Magnifiers

Thom Yorke - FeelingPulledApartByHorses

2009-10-08T01:17:00.000-07:00

Just posted a micro-review of Yorke's new single (listen to each song here and here) on eMusic, thought it turned out well:

"The first track menaces (but not in a particularly great way): rough-edged eerieness by way of lo-fi percussion and a misanthropic bassline. Kinda builds to a swirling kinda-climax, but is strongest when content to simply swagger.

The second track meanders (but not in a particularly bad way): crisp, understated, carried by a disconcertingly plain and affecting vocal melody that alternates with more of Yorke's spooky shenanigans. Do I hear a trace of reggaeton in that two-stepping kickdrum, Thom?"

I like working within these length constraints, Christgau-style. Maybe I'll do more.

The Beast and Dragon, Adored [Spoon Feeder: Vol. 5]

2009-04-04T01:00:00.000-07:00

This title of this song has always appealed to me: evocative, esoteric and apocalyptic, it is one of the more baroque examples in the Spoon catalog. The song itself, though, I've always felt is somewhat middle-of-the-pack, interesting for the way it steadily builds an atmosphere of dread, but ultimately just somewhat lacking in vitality.

"Beast" establishes Gimme Fiction's repetition-fetish immediately: for most of the song, Spoon stretches out a simple, ominous minor-key chromatic piano progression into a half-speed dirge. Major-key choruses attempt to deliver a release sufficient to match the verses' continuous tension-build (amplified by Britt's strangled guitar salvos, like miniature car collisions), and the second chorus succeeds a bit with its little extension/variation on the initial chord progression. However, the slightly oppressive lethargy of the song is never fully counterbalanced by Britt's vocal performance, and the song has conspicuously few enlivening melodic flourishes by the band. Is it horrible? Not by any means. The end result just comes off as just the slightest bit... well, dull.

At the very least, though, "Beast" does serve as an interesting and relatively effective album opener: an unsettling call-to-arms ('when you don't feel it, it shows, they tear out your soul; and when you believe they call it rock-and-roll') that also functions as a sort of overture and scene-setter for the album (this theatrical, song-as-album-prelude/overture notion is reinforced by the song's lyrics, which reference two later songs, "I Summon You" and "Never Got You").

I Turn My Camera On [Spoon Feeder: Vol. 4]

2009-03-03T12:10:00.000-08:00

Kill the Moonlight was a breakthrough album for Spoon, and part of that success can be attributed to "The Way We Get By", arguably the first song by the band to gain traction beyond their fan base as a "hit" single, at least in the limited sense that a song released on Merge Records can be a "hit". Earlier songs might have had the potential to make this broader mark ("Car Radio", for example, released on a major label itself, ironically), but predated the song-centric age of the mp3-internet and the burgeoning expansion of Indie to the point where it had its own sort of pseudo-mainstream centralization (as a side note/tangent, you could argue that England, a more culturally and geographically compact country, had this structure long before us, but that it took the Internet to create the same sort of phenomenon in the sprawling American continent).

Each Spoon album since then has had at least one single of obvious and immediate appeal; on Gimme Fiction, "I Turn My Camera On" fits this bill, and it's easy to see why. This is a song built for immediacy: with its limber octave-hopping, tick-tock tension bounce and Britt's pure falsetto coo lead vocal spinning mundane nonsense into catchy, spunky nonsense (as many great pop songs do), it is Spoon's most obvious attempt to adapt crowd-pleasing dancefloor tropes to their sparse idiom, all played at three-quarters speed for extra sonic separation, Kill the Moonlight-style. Speaking of which...

Stylistic novelty aside, the song is also interesting for how it neatly provides a bridge of sorts from Moonlight, maintaining the airy, negative space and immediacy of that album, but also displaying the structural simplicity and groove-focus so characteristic of Fiction, an album which has less of the tidy, rapid shifts between ingenious melodic parts and rhythmic sections that characterized its predecessors. Instead, Fiction finds Spoon often exploring prolonged insistence on a single rhythmic or melodic motif, building ominous tension to points of controlled release (see "The Beast and Dragon, Adored", "My Mathematical Mind", "Never Got You"), or developing percussive chants of zen-like focus ("Was It You?", "Camera", "Merchants of Soul"). Fiction's reliance on repetition is probably one reason why, for many, it remains less accessible and immediate than its nearest siblings.

Decora [Spoon Feeder: Vol. 3]

2009-03-01T03:11:00.000-08:00

A cover song can be a redundant nonentity, rock stars playing dress up as other rock stars, churning out a sloppy, blurred carbon copy; kudos to Spoon then for approaching others' compositions with the same enlivening creativity and minimalist rigor that they do their own.

Yo La Tengo's "Decora" evokes a hazy sort of slacker grandeur: narcoleptic vocals, slurred lead guitar slashing, simple bass quarter notes and a steady, simple drum thump. It's an endearing (if aloof) little song that ambles its way on-stage, taking its time getting where its going.

Spoon's cover extracts the nugget of tasty melody at the heart of the original and moves it to the forefront. Where the original plays hide the ball, burying its charms under a smoke screen of distortion and ambient guitar effects, Spoon lays all its cards on the table from the get go: Spoon's "Decora" begins with that distinctive (and entirely of their own creation) guitar-bass call and response riff, soon joined by an equally distinctive double tap-hiccuping drum beat. As on their other prominent cover, "Don't You Evah", Spoon seems here to have used the original song as a theoretical starting point, and put faithfulness secondary to tunefulness (as all good covers should); notice inspired details like the guitar and bass synchronizing after the first chorus.

Eventually the song edges closer to the original territory at the wordless, swirling choruses, but notice how within the first ten seconds the entire basic skeleton for Spoon's version of the song is introduced and defined: a spry, punchy, rhythmically engaging and witty translation; in otherwards, a Spoon song.

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart - "Contender"

2009-02-24T21:46:00.000-08:00

I remember reading or hearing somewhere (chances are it was in a Borges essay) that a nineteenth century intellectual was tormented by the fear that the realm of possible musical compositions was finite and would eventually be exhausted, that one day there would simply be no new music left to write. This vision of musical apocalypse fascinated me, and I am reminded of it, and of its fallacy, whenever I encounter quality, original music formed from familiar ingredients. After all, what chance is there of depletion when delving into even intensely well-mined territory can produce music of novel, thrilling vitality? Is This It, anyone?

Consider then, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart. A more cynical listener might balk at the many venerable strains of Indie commingling in the Brooklyn band's debut self-titled album: the buzzing guitar-scramble rush of early My Bloody Valentine, the melancholy jangle of 80's British bands like the Smiths, and the weightless, sighing vocal melodicism of twee-pop and the fey-er side of indie pop. I like the album best when the band puts muscle behind its mumble ("Come Saturday", "Hey Paul", the ascendant chorus of "Stay Alive", the cavernous "Gentle Sons"), but standout opening track "Contender" is the exception that proves the rule, a simple concoction of fuzzy bass, guitar and tambourine, all anchored to a continuous note of bell-like feedback. "Contender" particularly evokes Belle and Sebastian via its exceedingly effective, lighter-than-air vocal melody, which, like vintage Belle and Sebastian, is so carefully, wittily crafted and delicately delivered with just the right touch that it sounds effortless.

Also, speaking of mining well-worn territory, this song is just about the one-billionth successful reiteration of the 1-4 back-and-forth chord progression (to hear the 1-4 interval, think the first two notes of "Amazing Grace"); LCD Soundsystem's "All My Friends", The Strokes' "Modern Age", the immortal New Order duo of "Ceremony" and "Age of Consent", about three or four really solid songs from Clap Your Hands' first album, U2's "Bad", B&S's own "If You Are Feeling Sinister"... the list goes on and on. (thanks to Chen for some of these examples)

A Handful of Favorites from 2008

2009-02-22T20:03:00.000-08:00

I listened to far too little 2008-music in 2008 to make a decent judgment about the year as a whole, or to even pretend to be able to construct a numerical rank. Nevertheless, here is a little selection of the year's bits and pieces that brought me lasting joy:

Hercules and Love Affair - S/T

Inventive, emotive, urbane dance music: a marvel of a modern disco-pop album, bathed in warm, organic retro textures ("Hercules Theme", "Athene", "Raise Me Up"). The album is at times playful, at times dew-eyed and reserved (compare the wounded croon of opener "Time Will" to mischievous, kitchen-sink closer "True False/Fake Real"). Some songs even deftly split the difference (the undeniable yet vulnerable strut of "Raise Me Up"). But what gives this album lasting life is the sharp melodic sense at work in each precision horn burst, each delicate keyboard twinkle, each taut, octave-hopping bassline. Album highlight "Hercules Theme" is particularly packed with these details; "Iris" with its lovely, looping thumb piano-like keyboard melody and distant background flute-like harmonies is the album's emotional core. Perhaps the album I gave the most time to in 2008.

Air France - No Way Down EP

Irrepressibly wistful, exuberant breeze-pop. Like the Avalanches, they assemble patchwork sonic landscapes from pop detritus, but Air France's music seems more compositionally focused, and more honed for maximum emotional impact. This is wide-open, unabashed, open-hearted pop music, unafraid to make broad gestures; but despite the liberal use of sweeping orchestration and super-stuffed feel, the album remains approachable and intimate because each arrangement feels definitively handcrafted, like a homemade scrapbook of memory and joy. The sepia-toned album cover, a boy, his kite, sunlight bleeding through and over all, could not be more apropos: these are miniature anthems and arias of childlike yearning and rhapsodic bliss.

Osborne - "16th Stage"
Over the course of eight serene minutes, Osborne methodically unspools layer after layer of gossamer melody: that endearingly jumbled keyboard riff; that mumbling vocal sample pulsing along to the heart-like backbeat; that fluttering butterfly-synth line dancing over it all... A plaintive bedroom-dance beauty so unassuming, I didn't notice it shuffle shyly into my heart and steal it away.

Women - "Black Rice"
I wrote about this song in an earlier post; an undeniable vocal melody skips and leaps over murky, lumbering-zombie sort of psychedelic funeral dirge. Hypnotic and pleasantly off-kilter, like a dream of sitting down to a wonderful meal with old friends whose faces you simply cannot place.

Vampire Weekend - "Walcott"
The reverb-heavy pound of the piano, the softly glowing guitar line, the shimmering cymbal hits combine to serendipitous effect: "Walcott" surges like a series of frozen waterfalls thawing in the sunlight, a cascade of icy shards and glittering, frosty mist, all building to one last climactic, breathtaking plunge.

M83 - "Kim and Jessie"
Tears for Fears' "Head Over Heels" re-imagined as theme music for sentimental French superheroes. That massive, massive, majestic earthquake of a chorus, all megaton drums and jetstream synths and guitar peals arcing across the sky obliterates all thought, leaving only shimmering rapture in its wake.

Library of Borges: Vol. 9

2009-02-20T12:57:00.000-08:00

A Jew's profile in the subway is perhaps that of Christ; the hands giving us our change at a ticket window perhaps repeat those that one day were nailed to the cross by some soldiers.

Perhaps some feature of that crucified countenance lurks in every mirror; perhaps the face died, was obliterated, so that God could be all of us.

Who knows whether tonight we shall not see it in the labyrinths of our dreams and not even know it tomorrow.

from "Paradiso, XXXI, 108"
in Labyrinths

Loss Leaders [Spoon Feeder: Vol. 2]

2009-02-19T00:13:00.000-08:00

This is the second installment of "Spoon Feeder", a [hopefully] regular feature wherein I examine, dissect and reflect on selections from the vast and spectacular Spoon catalog.

1997's Soft Effects EP was released only eight months or so after Spoon's debut LP, Telephono, and it is a striking document of the rapidity of the band's maturity. Telephono was a spiky, abrasive, confrontational record; the polished pop tastefulness that Spoon is now synonymous with peeked out here and there amidst the buzz and crash, but for the most part it was still somewhat buried under post-Pixies squall and post-Pavement squalor. That roughness did not disappear on Soft Effects (and indeed remains part of the band's arsenal), but the elevation in songwriting consistency is still remarkable, and the textural and stylistic diversity of the wide-ranging EP must have at the time suggested that there few limits to Spoon's ability to manipulate indie rock forms into fresh and exciting shapes: we have the majestic crash of pocket-epic "Mountain to Sound", the jaunty pop of "Waiting for the Kid to Come Out", the low-key drone-pop of "I Could See the Dude", and the dark, sinister, sensual fuzz-rock churn of "Get Out the State".

And then there is "Loss Leaders". One of the last Spoon songs I discovered in my time spent trawling back through their catalog, the EP-ender is still a sentimental favorite. "Loss Leaders" is a bright, fresh-faced, unabashed pop song, bursting with the sparkling jangle of Daniel's guitar (Rachel noted the superficial resemblance the song bears to 90's alterna-rock, a la Gin Blossoms; in this vein see also: "Sister Jack"). As an early instance of particularly excellent work, you can hear in it the blueprint for future successes, the Spoon road map to pop-domination. To wit:

1. For a band who operates with such high standards of craft, Spoon has always done a great job adding little bits of in-studio dialog, or snatches of pseudo-improvised guitar strums or drum hits etc., as if surreptitiously captured in studio sessions as the tapes rolled. The little guitar fumbling on the intro to this song is a lovely example. All these thoughtful little details infuse Spoon songs with an approachability and an tangibility, make them feel more organic, more human, less like hermetically-sealed pieces of artifice.

2. Britt Daniel has a very distinctive approach to guitar-work; I remember reading somewhere that he basically thinks he is a poor guitar player, but he sells himself short: he plays like a true songwriter. His guitar playing is extremely compositionally-driven, with a strong melodic sense, and his playing is always rhythmically dynamic and interesting (in fact you could say he expertly straddles the line between rhythm and lead guitar playing), no matter that his parts would pose little challenge to a guitarist of even moderate skill. His signature style is showcased on "Loss Leaders": note the brash open-strumming chords of the verses, ever-fluid with their continuous little hammer-ons; note the echo-y chirping guitar stab-and-slides that balance against solemn single downward strums in the pre-chorus; note the highly melodic and utterly simple guitar picking in the muted instrumental chorus; note the dramatic palm-muted strums that lead us back from that pensive section back into the wide-open glory of the verse again; note the lyrical pseudo-solo that issues forth during the last instrumental chorus/outro. The three minutes and thirty seconds of "Loss Leaders" pass quickly. It can be easy to miss Britt Daniel's guitar pouring out all these volumes of musical wit.

3. Perhaps Spoon's core asset is Britt Daniel's voice and delivery; he is a master at coming up with muscular vocal hooks, and is particularly good at keeping his cadences and vocal rhythms dynamic and punchy; notice how in "Loss Leaders" he chops up his syllables in a percussive staccato manner in the first section of the song, then stretches out his notes into a scratchy-throated croon for maximum effect in the next. Also, as the lovely wordless refrain of "Sha-no-my" (roughly) displays, he is adept at creating catchy little non-word vocalizations in the grand pop tradition of shoo-be-doo's and koo-koo-ka-choo's. As seen in his guitarwork, his melodic sense, his taste for what works, is incredibly consistent.

4. Also, the intonation and delivery of Daniel's vocals tend to do the lion's share of the emotional work in Spoon's songs, as his lyrics can sometimes be obscure, indiscernible, or mundane. This is true of "Loss Leaders": although the first line is classic Spoon meta-lyricism, an ode to the sheer joy of making music ("I get up and all I got on my mind is thinking up brand new chords"), what follows is apparently about the murder of Chicago-area Black Panthers leader Fred Hampton in 1969 (?!?). Definitely noConveniently, Britt Daniel's impassioned slurring can, as here, often increase the impact of his vocals by reducing their clarity; in their ambiguity, the emotional undercurrent of the backing music and vocal delivery are heightened.

5. Though their contributions are usually less obvious than Britt Daniel's, drummer Jim Eno and bassist (until 2007) Joshua Zarbo, provide solid rhythmic support, steady and emphatic, and contributing a few little unobtrusive but engaging musical flourishes that great rock rhythm sections utilize to maximize the listenability of the song (for an example of a rhythm section that takes this technique to a near-absurd extreme, dangling at the edge of excess and yet still manages to still sound fantastic, see Carlos D and Sam Fogarino of Interpol). Some flourishes of note: the little off-time bass riff at each second iteration of the pre-chorus "Sha-No-My"; Jim Eno's tight little stuttering fill at 0:56.

But what helps make this song a personal favorite is not just its mastery of pop form and structure: after all that criteria would sweep in a great many Spoon songs. No, what deepens my affection for the song is its undercurrent of longing, detectable to a small degree from those very first plaintive, false-improv intro guitar notes. The boisterous verse manages to shade over a great deal of that sentiment (though once aware of the emotion's existence, the contrast arguably enhances the effect), but something in the particular vector of the verse vocal melody nevertheless bears it through, until we reach the achingly melancholy prechorus and chorus, and it rises to the forefront again. "Loss Leaders" is thus a peculiar alchemy of revelry and regret, somewhat like looking through old photo albums filled with smiling young faces, and being touched by that old joy, yet simultaneously recalling loneliness between those moments that went uncaptured by any camera. The evocation of this blissful, nostalgic ache is what gives "Loss Leaders" its powerful appeal, and secures it pride of place as a standout in the stellar Spoon catalog.

Imaginary Genre: Transit Pop

2009-02-17T04:57:00.000-08:00

You know this is a truly imaginary genre when I can only suggest three exemplary songs. But despite the dearth of stimuli, the idea behind this genre springs vibrant from my mind: transit pop is music that, first and foremost, evokes forward momentum, the rush of the subway train along elevated tracks. It is the sound of the city in motion, and of all the glamor and grit that entails. In its more emotional manifestations, it evokes the myriad human stories, aspirations and failings, loves and losses that travel inside every packed subway-car, bus and taxicab as they shuttle forth in the intricate ballet of mass transit. In its less sentimental representations, it at least conveys a sense of mechanical energy and velocity, pounding pistons and industrial exhaust, the precision engineering of interlocking musical pieces traveling forward in unity.

"The City" - The Dismemberment Plan
Joe Easley's wonderful-as-always drumming, a skittering forward-stumble and bounce is this lovely song's transit pop core, but note also the recurring bass-synth line and chime of the guitar that amplifies the effect, and, of course, the song title, and the lyrical focus on commuting and city details. The Dismemberment Plan always were angular pop songwriters, taking odd routes to their hooks and embracing obtuse rhythms and sometimes grating textures: in this case their indirect, paradoxical approach is wildly successful, producing a soaring, melancholy anthem of urban isolation and regret.

"Meantime" - The Futureheads
Transit pop more for the verse than anything else, again with its insistent four on the floor drum beat, and sharp, interlocking, interweaving, staccato guitar parts.

"One More Time" - The French Kicks
I know that it is the reality of millennial, internet-age Indie that music fans are presented with an overwhelming swarm of competent bands making perfectly competent sounds, an vast undifferentiated mass of chiming guitars and yelped and/or mumbled vocals; and I know little about the French Kicks, but I know they are by no means a critic's darling: a workmanlike band who have produced workmanlike Indie over the course of four or five albums or so, as far as I can tell the consensus is that they are also-rans, representative residents of that sea of competence. I would dispute whether such a backhanded encapsulation, or any such similar assessment of the life's work of a person or group of people is justifiable, but sidestepping wholesale evaluations of their catalog, I humbly submit "One More Time" for your consideration. It is a song that probably slipped through the cracks for most, but one which has carved out its own lasting niche in my music-loving heart.

Pulsating with a restless energy, "One More Time" is precisely what I think of when I think of this phantom notion of transit pop. It has, first and foremost a propulsive sense of forward momentum, in those doubled-snare hits, in the relentless chug of that keyboard that enters at about 0:27, and undergirds the song. Then there is that single synth-string melody descending softly like a plane through the sky, or like the outline of the city skyline receding in the distance. And over this entire lovely backdrop, the yearning, supple croon of vocalist Nick Stumpf soars and dives, the organic warmth and languid emotion of his drawn-out voice sprawling across the song, contrasting beautifully with the taut stutter and snap of the backing music. Add to that the drama-doubling build-up bridge which cascades back into a gush of guitar and the inspired sudden cut-off ending, and we are left with a sublime and lasting piece of Indie songcraft, one which brings warmly to life the pale ghost of this imaginary genre.

P.S. If you have more suggestions for songs that fit the transit pop bill, by all means post them in the comments and let us substantiate the genre with their addition.

Everything Hits at Once [Spoon Feeder: Vol. 1]

2009-02-15T00:01:00.000-08:00

This is the first installment of "Spoon Feeder", a [hopefully] regular feature wherein I examine, dissect and reflect on songs from the vast and spectacular Spoon catalog.

In 2001, Spoon was coming off the hangover of a major-label sign-and-drop debacle with Elektra Records. Picked up by the label as they were on the rise, they released the magnificent A Series of Sneaks to commercial ambivalence. Agreements and promises apparently went breached and unfulfilled and Spoon was dropped from the label (a tumultuous time out of which emerged the excellent Agony of Laffitte EP, their musical kiss-off to Elektra, and Elektra A&R man Ronn Laffitte in particular). Older, and we can perhaps speculate, somewhat wiser from the experience, they released Girls Can Tell.

Girls Can Tell marked a new phase for Spoon. Its predecessor, 1998's A Series of Sneaks was an incredibly lean and muscular collection of tightly-wound indie rock. The album has a dry, even dusty sort of sparseness to it; even at its most anthemic ("Car Radio", "Utilitarian", the sublime "Advance Cassette") it sounds shambling, skeletal. Furthermore, despite its innovative, extra-terse songcraft, it had a fairly direct sound and instrumentation that placed it directly in the 90's mainstream American Indie lineage of the Pixies, Pavement, etc.

Girls Can Tell finds Spoon fully embracing an older vein of rock tradition: the supple grooves of 60's R&B, Motown and Blue-Eyed Soul (a vein they first explored on 2000's extremely strong Love Ways EP). From the very first bars of "Everything Hits at Once", Girls Can Tell's opening track, Spoon's broadened musical arsenal is on display.

"Everything Hits at Once" exemplifies a particular type of smoky, minor-key Spoon song that can aptly be called noir-pop. It doesn't forgo the compositional brilliance displayed on A Series of Sneaks; it maintains an uncanny sense of song architecture, the deft deployment of melody around a dynamic rhythmic core, but in its deeper, echoing production and expanded instrumentation, all chiming keys and fluttering mellotron, the song exemplifies its album's cooler tonal palette. Girls Can Tell is, on balance, a rather nocturnal album, and "Everything Hits at Once" is the album's overture: it captures the sound of coasting through the city at night, riding the insistent pulse of a sleepwalking metropolis in a dream-like haze, wandering to escape some regret, or nurse some deep, lingering wound. A persistent undercurrent of gentle longing emerges from every corner of this song, but perhaps most brilliantly from the four-note mirrored sighing piano and guitar lines that ascend repeatedly over the chorus; ah, but then there's the lovely bridge as well, with its see-sawing call and response mellotron bursts; ah, but also the lovely, ethereal fade out, haunted by Britt Daniel's ghost-like coo...

In the end, as with many of Spoon's best songs, there are many "best" moments, and it is hard not to underline nearly every detail of "Everything Hits at Once" for the high degree of its craft and the class evinced in its execution.

Library of Borges: Vol. 8

2009-02-14T22:37:00.001-08:00

The truth is that we live our lives putting off all that can be put off; perhaps we all know deep down that we are immortal and that sooner or later all men will do and know all things.

from "Funes the Memorious"
in Labyrinths

Library of Borges: Vol. 7

2009-02-14T22:20:00.000-08:00

Deeds which populate the dimensions of space and which reach their end when someone dies may cause us wonderment, but one thing, or an infinite number of things, dies in every final agony, unless there is a universal memory as the theosophists have conjectured. In time there was a day that extinguished the last eyes to see Christ; the battle of Junin and the love of Helen died with the death of a man. What will die with me when I die, what pathetic or fragile form will the world lose? The voice of Macedonio Fernandez, the image of a red horse in the vacant lot at Serrano and Charcas, a bar of sulphur in the drawer of a mahogany desk?

from "The Witness"
in Labyrinths

Library of Borges: Vol. 6

2009-02-10T23:23:00.000-08:00

Why does it disturb us that the map be included in the map and the thousand and one nights in the book of the Thousand and One Nights? Why does it disturb us that Don Quixote be a reader of the Quixote and Hamlet a spectator of Hamlet? I believe I have found the reason: these inversions suggest that if the characters of a fictional work can be readers or spectators, we, its readers or spectators, can be fictitious. In 1833, Carlyle observed that the history of the universe is an infinite sacred book that all men write and read and try to understand, and in which they are also written.

from "Partial Magic in the Quixote"
in Labyrinths

Library of Borges: Vol. 5

2009-02-10T21:45:00.000-08:00

Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river that sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire. The world, unfortunately, is real; I, unfortunately, am Borges.

from "A New Refutation of Time"
in Labyrinths

Mastodon-ticipation: [Exhibit A for Awesome]

2009-02-10T21:35:00.000-08:00

"There is a paraplegic and the only way that he can go anywhere is if he astral travels. He goes out of his body, into outer space and a bit like Icarus, he goes too close to the sun, burning off the golden umbilical cord that is attached to his solar plexus. So he is in outer space and he is lost, he gets sucked into a wormhole, he ends up in the spirit realm and he talks to spirits telling them that he is not really dead. So they send him to the Russian cult, they use him in a divination and they find out his problem. They decide they are going to help him. They put his soul inside Rasputin's body. Rasputin goes to usurp the czar and he is murdered. The two souls fly out of Rasputin's body through the crack in the sky(e) and Rasputin is the wise man that is trying to lead the child home to his body because his parents have discovered him by now and think that he is dead. Rasputin needs to get him back into his body before it's too late. But they end up running into the Devil along the way and the Devil tries to steal their souls and bring them down…there are some obstacles along the way."

Mastodon drummer Brann Dailor describing the geeky-awesome concept behind their upcoming album, sure-to-be-prog-metal-opus, Crack the Skye

Library of Borges: Vol. 4

2009-02-10T21:14:00.000-08:00

A man sets himself the task of depicting the world. Year after year, he fills a space with images of provinces, kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, instruments, stars, horses, and people. Just before he dies, he discovers that out of this patient labyrinth of lines emerge the features of his own face.

From "Afterword"
in The Maker

Library of Borges: Vol. 3

2009-01-24T00:27:00.001-08:00

I was born on August 24, 1899. I'm happy about this because I like the nineteenth century very much, although it could be said to the detriment of the nineteenth century that it led to the twentieth century, which I find less admirable.

from "First Conversation"
in Seven Conversations with Jorge Luis Borges

Library of Borges: Vol. 2

2009-01-21T17:56:00.001-08:00

What is a divine mind? the reader will perhaps inquire. There is not a theologian who does not define it; I prefer an example. The steps a man takes from the day of his birth until that of his death trace in time an inconceivable figure. The Divine Mind intuitively grasps that form immediately, as men do a triangle. This figure (perhaps) has its given function in the economy of the universe.

from "The Mirror of Enigmas"
in Labyrinths

Library of Borges: Vol. 1

2009-01-20T21:34:00.000-08:00

Music, states of happiness, mythology, faces belabored by time, certain twilights and certain places try to tell us something, or have said something we should not have missed, or are about to say something; this imminence of a revelation which does not occur is, perhaps, the aesthetic phenomenon.

from "The Wall and the Books"
in Labyrinths

Lizard-Block

2008-12-29T23:37:00.000-08:00

I've been wrestling with my review of the Jesus Lizard's Liar for a while now. My difficulties with it have really helped me see the challenge in writing an album review so as to have a sort of narrative quality to it, flowing prose with a beginning, middle and end. I've been trying all sorts of little angles to get the juices flowing, and came up with this terse little piece I thought I'd share:

Recipe For a Jesus Lizard Song

1. Have rhythm section play absolutely punishing backing beat.

2. Have guitar player alternate between:

(a) chunky blues-based riffs,
(b) post-punk chime/shimmer
(c) all-out squalls of white noise.

3. Have vocalist:

(a) drink body weight in alcohol,
(b) rant and rave on top of the whole glorious mess.

4.Repeat.

5.Reap awesome results.

Serves 4-6

Sifting for Gold in Pitchfork's Year-End Lists: Pt. 2

2008-12-27T21:57:00.000-08:00

Empire of the Sun - "Walking on a Dream"

First things first:

Intensely tongue-piercing-cheek irony or outrageously overreaching numb-to-taste delirium? I mean this cover so completely screams EXCESS!!! that it looks more and more earnest and sincere the more I look at it, in a "Hey! Let's capture all of the awesomeness of a thousand epic movie posters on a single album cover! AWESOME!" sort of way. See this video, where you can see those costumes from the cover in full motion (quick summary: two coked-out looking dudes mugging for the camera in Shanghai, China[?!?]), and this interview for further evidence on that question.

So I was surprised to find that the title track (Pitchfork's #96) of this album, which I was expecting to be some symphony-bursting, over-produced mess (the aural equivalent of the poster's blockbuster movie-fest I guess) is such a tight, tight, lovely, sighing little piece of 80's-derived pop music. In fact, it's the incredible leanness of the song that is one of the biggest factors contributing to its success. The thing simply sounds effortless.

Note the opening descending cloud-like synthesizer melody, the brief bursts of one-note vocals that open the verse melody, the insistent, yet understated chiming guitar that underpins the entire song and subtly shifts its pattern at appropriate moments.

"Walking on a Dream" sounds like the product of innumerable, ruthless editing sessions, like what emerges after attempting to take out as many extraneous sections as possible until what is left is as direct and succinct a pop song as possible. As they say, it takes a lot of work to make something look that effortless.

There's also something so winning to me about vocalist Luke Steele's performance, the way he petulantly open mouths some words ("how can i explain"), the little quirks of pronunciation he brings throughout the song.

One of my favorite moments is the mini-bridge, when the percussion drops out and a disembodied voice, sounding distant and scratchy, almost like a sample, sings "catch me I'm falling down", partially accompanied by another voice further up in the mix. It's a lovely little moment of semi-repose and wistfulness that provides a touch of emotional resonance in the midst of the song's coasting joy, and it exemplifies the subtle detail and craft all over this song, cheese-bomb cover and coked-out video be damned.

Sifting for Gold in Pitchfork's Year-End Lists: Pt. 1

2008-12-19T00:46:00.000-08:00

The end of the year means list-making time in the music world, and, out-of-touch with the Indie zeitgeist though I may be, I still doubt any site's list carries more weight than Pitchfork's (admittedly there's the Village Voice's Pazz and Jop and Idolator.com's Jackin' Pop, but both of those are aggregate lists, combining votes from hundreds of disparate music critics for a more mainstream picture). So it's interesting to check in with them at the end of the year and see exactly how things turned out in their view, what narratives they use to frame the year, and also which early heavily hyped juggernauts have run out of steam, which underdogs might sneak their way to the top (I remember Sufjan Stevens' Michigan coming out of nowhere to grab the #3 slot in 2003; he was a relative unknown at the time and it really helped kick-start his ascent to his current place in the mainstream Indie pantheon).

Their lists (especially the singles list) provide a broad and decently diverse (read: Indie-centric but dipping in dance, rap, pop, and metal) pool of music, and a great opportunity to discover some of the year's highlights that may have slipped under your own personal radar. I'll make a few posts with my own favorite discoveries from the lists. Here's one to start:

Women - "Black Rice"

This song caught my eye partly because its high rank (#17 overall) combined with its obscurity, and partly because it sat atop Pitchfork-founder Ryan Schreiber's own individual top tracks list. Superficially, the track stakes out the same sort of echo-ey garage-psych-postpunk territory Deerhunter so successfully inhabited on Cryptograms, but "Black Rice" finds hypnotic splendor not in rapturous overload (see, i.e., "Spring Hall Convert") but in shambolic, plodding warmth, bone-dry production, Panda Bear-like vocals (read: Beach Boys-derived), and an absurdly catchy, serpentine melody that I somehow feel justified in describing as "sideways". A truly dusty gem.

Quality Details: the deceptively intricate xylophone part that enters the song accomplanied by zombie handclaps on (what sounds like) the words "lemon and daylight"; the lovely cascading bassline that funnels the song back into its second verse; the sudden falsetto leap in the chorus that best exemplifies the melody's pleasantly queasy quality.

Return?

2008-12-15T22:22:00.000-08:00

Surprise! Hello there. This semesters' exams are almost over and I can't believe my last post was back after my last set of exams. I'll start something up again on this after finals. I'll put up something, anything for consideration/dialog. See you there~

Post-Exams Update: Thoughts and Murmurs on Orchestra of Bubbles and Kensington Heights

2008-05-15T21:49:00.000-07:00

I need to work on some long-overdue reviews for Audrey (sorry Audrey!), but here's some quick thoughts on some things I've been listening to lately (please make use of the imeem player above to sample the songs I mention, and let me know if it's working for you!):

Ellen Allien & Apparat - Orchestra of Bubbles

It's been exam-studying time, and that means a greater than usual dose of instrumental music. Last semester it was Tortoise; this time I went with the Disintegration Loops, Stereolab (vocals, yes, but it's only distracting when you can understand what they're saying; unintelligible French cooing presents no distraction) Aphex Twin and recently, this album. I find it hard to put my finger on what separates engaging, interesting and listenable dance and electronic music from its less fortunate brethren. The album is melodically and rhythmically strong, sure, but there is also a pure pleasantness and organic warmth in the sounds themselves. On album standout "Jet" for example, the warm pulsing synth that mirrors the bass pulse and the delightful little scuttling noises that strafe across it like tiny crabs on a sandy beach, exemplify how the best tracks on the album build tension piece by piece, with simple melodic elements that display an exceptional sonic tautness. Not every track is as successful, but some are, "Turbo Dreams", among them.

The Constantines - Kensington Heights

Still delving into this record, but it sounds promising so far, an interesting development in the wake of the surprisingly sparse and trad-rock influenced Tournament of Hearts, both expanding on that sound, and re-integrating more of the spikier post-punk of earlier albums. Opening track "Hard Feelings" is the perfect example of this melding of worlds: The song has classic rock swagger and even a decent straight-up guitar solo(!), but also an unmistakable angularity and metallic bite that evokes Fugazi, not Fogerty (in fact, the band's sound has often been pegged as "Springsteen fronting Fugazi"; an application of the "Band X meets Band Y" device that music critics often overuse at the expense of actual insight or description. This particular descriptor is stubbornly persistent as a lazy shorthand for the band; it's like the statement just gets copy and pasted from review to review). The song channels its ample energy into stuttering, interlocking keyboard and guitar riffs, which contrast nicely with Bryan Webb's always-satisfying rasp of a vocal delivery. Also deserves mention: the awesomely pounding repeating post-chorus riff that evokes both an air siren and some giant machine press crashing down and resetting itself over and over. The rest of the album I don't know as well, but some other preliminary thoughts: "Million Star Hotel" is a formidable second track; where "Feeling" took a horizontal approach (barreling forward momentum) Feeling is more vertical: the tempo more deliberate as riffs soar, tower and crash. "Trans Canada" rides a chunky bass riff to an impassioned climax, although the build is so brief, I'm not sure the payoff is fully earned. "Shower of Stones", the first misstep, is sung by Steve Lambke instead of Webb, and confirms just how effective Webb is as a vocalist, and how much the band loses in his absence. And I'll agree with Pitchfork's Jason Crock, that I could do entirely without the odd, cheesy keyboard effects on "Credit River". I still haven't quite parsed the lyrics on the album; although I'm not a big lyrics guy, lyrics are usually a plus point for the band, who employ a hyper-romantic sort of street poetry tempered by rootsier, blue-collar sensibilities. Sometimes I feel like they can overdo the affected poetic mannerisms, but Webb's impassioned vocal delivery is so effective, he tends to make almost anything work. A sample of some nice lines at the front end of the "Trans Canada" climax:

"I had that vision, brother/the one about you, brother/we did ride, ride on the shining path together"

I will say that I don't particularly like the album cover, though. For what sounds like, so far, such a lively record, that cover is surprisingly drab and dull, and the airplane propeller silhouette, unless I'm really missing something, just seems like a total non sequitur. Really, it looks like something slapped together in Photoshop in about 45 seconds. But minor gripes aside (and I'll admit, I'm actively searching for them because I am a bit biased towards the Constantines; "On to You" is a personal favorite of mine), initial impressions suggest thatKensington Heights just may eventually prove a worthy development and extension of the Constantines' already accomplished oeuvre.

Alright! For now it's back to work on that Jesus Lizard piece, and maybe even the Stereolab one I was hoping to do. I'll post them here after I'm done. I've got a lot of ideas for this blog that I'm excited about implementing, and now that it's summer, I might actually have the time to implement, but we'll see!

Here's to you, Britt Daniel.

2008-04-20T20:59:00.001-07:00

Exquisitely tactful vocalist, unerringly consistent songsmith, and all-around awesome frontman Britt Daniel, you deserve every accolade you receive and so much more.

Ok, I'll admit, Spoon is my favorite band. My music taste has somewhat of a formalist slant. I appreciate expansive creativity and avant-garde boundary pushing, sure, but I really have a soft spot for musicians and artists who can artfully manipulate the formal constraints of classic pop and rock songwriting structures and assemble them into new, exciting and timeless shapes.* Spoon is a perhaps peerless example of such a band.

I heard recently that Matthew Perpetua of Fluxblog fame has a project to review one R.E.M. song every day for a year or something (and that Floodwatchmusic , another great blog, is doing the same for Rush(!)). Maybe I'll anatomize Spoon's catalog as well. I'd love to set out in clear and rational terms, with all the evidence I can muster, why I believe them to be truly (one of) the greatest band(s) of our generation.

*As an aside, I think the same sort of logic explains why I love "Ocean's Eleven"; the movie takes a familiar theme and and executes it with such wit, class and restraint that the end result has a transcendent sort of breezy magic, channeling the charisma and glamor of Old Hollywood.

The Redemption of Karen Carpenter: Kick-Ass Drummer.

2008-03-29T23:04:00.000-07:00

When I was young, probably in elementary school, I read a joke in Reader's Digest, in one of those "Laughter, The Best Medicine" sections. The joke went like this:

Some musician dies, and awakens to find himself in a club where a jam session is about to take place. The people there tell him he's in hell, and he asks who's jamming, only to find that all these legends are jamming there together, Hendrix on guitar, John Lennon singing, etc. So he's all incredulous and says there's no way this is hell; I must be in heaven! And the punchline is, that at exactly that moment, Karen Carpenter walks out and gets behind the drum kit.

I didn't really find it that funny, not really knowing who most of the people really were; the only lesson forever imprinted on my impressionable young mind was that Karen Carpenter was a horrible drummer, bad enough to make Heaven into Hell. As an enormous, almost obsessive fan of good, smart, tasteful, musical drumming (I can call Mastodon one of my favorite bands largely on the strength of Brian Dailor alone), I guess that little piece of information stuck in my head, a damning account of an inexcusably tacky musician. So I was more than a little surprised to find a clip like this on Youtube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6dJUnh6N8-U&feature=related

If you don't have time to mess around, go straight to the 8:50 mark for the real goods. Plus, half the time she's simultaneously singing in that flawless soft-rock voice. All apologies, Karen Carpenter. You have been forever vindicated in my mind and heart, as a truly kick-ass drummer.

Concert Review: Sunset Rubdown/Blood on the Wall/Ecstatic Sunshine @ Brooklyn Masonic Temple (3/27/08)

2008-03-29T00:18:00.000-07:00

(NOTE: I made the above playlist at imeem.com, an awesome site for streaming music files. I recommend signing up for a free account there in order to listen to basically every song on the site in full-length version. In the meantime, here is a link to a full version of "Acid Fight", and here's the Myspace page for Ecstatic Sunshine)

My appreciation of Sunset Rubdown has been a long while in the birthing. Spencer Krug purveys a highly theatrical brand of densely-layered symphonic and yet clattering indie rock with his increasingly serious (haven't they put out two full-length albums since Wolf Parade put out their debut?) and noteworthy in its own right stand-alone side-project. His songwriting, especially on last year's Random Spirit Lover tends towards the labyrinthine, piling melodic line on top of melodic line, shifting from chord to chord in a restless way that doesn't seem to appeal immediately with conventional listening sensibilities... or at least with mine, anyway. I think in describing their music to friends, I've used something like "Baroque, proggy, garage rockin' oompah-clatter." (I should have added to the end of that phrase, "that tends towards moments of shimmering transcendence.") Anyway, I remember that upon my first listen to Shut Up I Am Dreaming, the band's 2006 debut LP, I felt shut out by the dense murkiness of the production and the songs themselves. I definitely would not describe that record as "sharp". Spencer's keyboard tones shimmer and bleed, leaking all over the rest of the composition, and the drummer hammers on the crash early and often. Plus, when I heard second track "They Took a Vote and Said No" I got turned off pretty quickly, thinking "wow, goofy, faux-precious toy marching-band stuff. Not for me."

I was however always impressed with Krug's lyrics and the way he throws this mess of highly-evocative dreamlike language together and delivers it all in a highly-affected impassioned voice. Perhaps that lyrical talent was what encouraged me to keep coming back to those difficult, vaseline-smeared songs for additional listens, until finally the unorthodox melodies began to make sense and I could submerge myself in the wall of instrumentation instead of running smack into it and bouncing off.

So at this point I definitely consider myself a Sunset Rubdown fan, if not a fanatic, per se, and it was with some eagerness that last night, my good friend Chen and I went out to see them perform as the headliners at a wonderfully budget-priced show (thank you Boost Mobile and New York Magazine for targeting this demographic!) in the heart of Fort Greene, Brooklyn.

The venue was, as expected, a Masonic Temple, and managed to convey a pleasantly appealing low-key community-center-converted-for-a-punk-rock-show vibe in spite of the banners of corporate products adorning the main hall, and despite the imposing and elaborate architectural touches (which actually provided an apropos framing for Sunset Rubdown's ornate compositions) that come with being, well, a Masonic Temple. Not long after arrival, first act of the night, Ecstatic Sunshine took the stage. The venue was still pleasingly sparsely-filled and Chen and I took up chairs at the rear of the venue to conserve our standing strength and lower-back muscle endurance for the later acts. As lead-off men, let's just say that Ecstatic Sunshine did not quite do a Rickey Henderson-like job of setting the table for the rest of the line-up. I had actually done some prep work before hand to acquaint myself a bit better with the opening bands, and had found a 2006 record of theirs composed of dual indie-rock guitar instrumentals, like the guitar tracks from a Bloc Party record played in isolation, except more busy and complex to make up for their starkness. I thought it would make for a good opening act; gimmicky and interesting and diverting enough, a musical appetizer before the main course.

Alas, they instead opted instead to assault the audience with chime-y guitar loops and fuzzed-out analog keyboard tones, and Chen and I, after zoning out for a bit and wasting some of our eardrum's membrane integrity, instead opted to sit on a nice bench in the hallway. Although I only heard about ten minutes of music or so, they nevertheless shook me of the opinion that they were not playing compositions but merely "jamming" in an unfortunately unentertaining way that involved a lot of knob-twiddling and little to no dynamics, melody or complexity. Sorry, guys, I couldn't dig it.

We went in some time after we heard the abrasive noise inside the main hall end, to take up decent positions for the band batting second, Blood on the Wall. I had heard good things about BotW for a while, that they effectively and energetically recreated the sloppy, pleasantly slack sounds of early/mid 90's Indie Rock, (back when that term evoked Archers of Loaf, Pavement, Sebadoh and their ilk, and not the gratifyingly confusing mish-mash of styles it does today).

They took stage, just guitar, bass and drums, a refreshingly sparse setup and a good contrast to the relative plethora of instruments and musicians I expected the headliners to roll out. Bass player Courtney Shanks spoke-sang in what Chen pointed out was a pleasingly low register, a female vocal approach pointedly contrasted by her brother, guitarist Brad Shanks, who had the kind of appealing high-pitched whine that evoked Black Francis more than anyone, but also gave me glimpses of Jack White. Drummer Zach Campbell maintained a competent, hard-hitting thump.

They jammed out their straightforward Indie Rockin' tunes, but for most of their set were more notable to me for their earnest energy and good-natured approach than any compositional achievement. With their last two songs, however, I caught a glimpse of something special, the sort of slapdash, spiky, catchiness that was as appealing last night as it must have been for Pixies fans back in the day. Second-to-last song "Mary Susan" was an exhilarating shout-along and a bona fide anthem, and set-closer "Acid Fight" was a build and release jam that ended with Brad writhing on the floor of the stage repeatedly shouting the ridiculously great chorus "THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOUR FACE!!!!". In these two songs, Brad's vocals were at their finest, reaching heights of catchy shout/screaming that suggested he'd cross-bred his Black Francis shriek with a healthy dose of the yelping of the Jesus Lizard's David Yow (Acid Fight reminded me of Jesus Lizard staple "Seasick" with its churning, repetition of a single riff buoyed by super-charismatic howl-vocals).

So, with at least their immediate predecessors having done a bang-up job opening for them, Sunset Rubdown finally took stage. Spencer was even more boyish looking than I anticipated, which, along with his omnipresent slight lisp, cast his musical work in a different light, as the product of a preternaturally talented mastermind (I discovered later that he turns 31 in less than two months; no Zach Condon is he). They opened with an decent version of Random Spirit Lover standout "Winged/Wicked Things", that didn't quite nail the full martial drama and energy of the album version, probably just from being the first song of the night played, with no prior momentum to aid it. Immediately afterwards, though, and as if acknowledging the likeness, they played another waltz-time song of similarly stately and epic form, Shut Up precursor to "Winged/Wicked Things", "Stadiums and Shrines II". Their performance of this song was spot-on and one of the highlights of the night, and in an inspired choice, tacked on the outro from "They Took a Vote and Said No" for good measure, a thrashy section that fit better at the end of "Stadiums" than it did in its original place.

The front-loading of the set continued with "Trumpet, Trumpet, Toot! Toot!", a swift, howling minor-key rocker from Spirit Lover. On the whole, though, they balanced their set well, interspersing a few new songs amongst fan favorites, and never letting the energy drag too much. I was happy to see them display a good grasp of the strengths and weaknesses of their own catalog (especially as they work in the live setting), shunting many of their more marginal album tracks in favor of the more upbeat/epic numbers. It was enough that they included the dirge-like six and a half minute plus behemoth "Stallion" at the center of their set; had they also included fellow slowpokes "The Men are Called Horsemen There" or "I'm Sorry I Sang on Your Hands...", the energy of the set would have been totally quashed.

I was also disappointed by the truncated version of standout track "Shut Up I Am Dreaming of Places Where Lovers Have Wings", they played, cutting out the lovely, drama-building acoustic intro AND the awesome, psuedo-calypso new-wave-y outro that was one of the finest (and surprisingly in contrast with the rest of the album, very crisply-executed) moments on that album; it was a passage I had been looking forward to seeing live, but alas was not to be.

Krug and co. closed out the main part of their set with a surprisingly moderately-paced version of "Mending of the Gown" whose distinctive opening guitar flickers elicited a big cheer from the crowd, confirming which fan favorite was fairest of them all. I was not digging the relaxed tempo so much, but they did add some dramatic start-stop pauses and loud-soft dynamics that made up for the loss of faster album version's sheer giddy rush.

The obligatory encore brought out big, surprisingly conventionally structured (relatively speaking that is, for Krug) ballad "Us Ones In Between", the most effective slow song of the night. It was followed by unreleased song "Three Colours", a song that opened with a pleasantly breezy yet melancholy descending guitar figure, and in general proceeded along less melodically wild lines than the typical Sunset Rubdown tune (CORRECTION: "Three Colours" is actually an old tune that appears on a 2005 EP; I thought it was a bit misanthropic/anti-climatic of Krug to close with a new/unreleased song. Thanks to Maria for the tip). It was a solid song, and Chen even commented that it was the most appealing tune of the night for him.

So with that the concert ended. Overall, it was a fine show. Sunset Rubdown acquitted themselves well, for the most part totally nailing Krug's byzantine arrangements (except for, notably, one point in "Up On Your Leopard...", the little guitar lick that comes in at 0:53 in album version, when the guitarist either played a reeeeallly discordant improvisation, or more likely, just completely botched it), and Spencer's voice was surprisingly forceful, limber and accurate; he replicated, in note-perfect fashion much of the hooting and barking I had taken to be spontaneous when I heard it on record. But if I could select one general gripe with their performance, Chen and I did think the show suffered from the band's general disconnect with the audience. They performed competently and often passionately, Spencer forcefully banging out chords with aplomb and percussionist at the rear of the stage battering away with wild abandon, but there was little in the way of between song dialog, and as far as I could tell Spencer sang almost every word with his eyes closed. For a band so invested in highly theatrical music, they could have benefited from a little more playing to the crowd, a bit more hamming it up or just some on-stage movement or action, in the vein of the raucous Funeral-era Arcade Fire live show. Then their live show might actually become a moving theatrical spectacle in its own right, instead of just appearing to soundtrack one.

Sunset Rubdown Setlist:

Wicked/Winged Things
Stadiums and Shrines II
Trumpet, Trumpet, Toot! Toot!
Silver Moons
Up On Your Leopard, Upon the End of Your Feral Days
Idiot Heart
Stallion
Shut Up I Am Dreaming of Places Where Lovers Have Wings
Taming of the Hands that Came Back to Life
(New Song)
Mending of the Gown

ENCORE
Us Ones In Between
Three Colours

A Little Detour into Borges and Criticism

2008-02-04T21:57:00.000-08:00

I've been reading a ton of Jorge Luis Borges recently. The man has become my favorite author. As much as I love his short stories, I may love his essays even more. There is something that is just so appealing to me about Borges' non-fiction writing; each essay is like an opportunity to sit down and chat with this incredibly well-read and intelligent person, to hear him ruminate with resounding clarity and an enduring sense of wonder about endless topics in philosophy, religion, politics and history, and above all, literature. I love it!

If you've never read Borges before, he is sort of a super-brainy forefather to the Latin American Magical Realists. His short stories often involve the exploration of an idea or logical puzzle. There are a few central themes that he is particularly fond of and returns to again and again, among them, the unity of all humans and human experience and the unfathomability of the concept of infinity. I highly recommend Labyrinths as a starting point. If you find you have the pallet for him, go on to his Collected Fictions and Selected Non-Fictions;

All this literary material may seem at first blush a bit far off topic, but Borges is actually a big inspiration for this site. I've often struggled with the nagging fear that music writing and criticism is parasitic, that no matter what, it will always be inferior to the production of music itself. But reading Borges' lucid and insightful literary criticism, I see that criticism can act as an invaluable bridge between the reader/listener/consumer and the book/music/art itself, as well as between fellow art appreciators. Besides, I totally subscribe to the notion that the viewer/listener collaborates with the artist to create the meaning and value of his art. With that in mind, criticism can be just as creative as art itself, a secondary vehicle that nevertheless animates and articulates what the experience of art is for the recipient. Criticism can breathe life into thoughts and emotions that usually go unexpressed and unexplored, can bring them more clearly into focus, can put their aesthetic mechanisms "under the magnifying glass" (if you will permit the pun).

Now, with regards to actual music-related content, the purported focus of this site, I'm going to start doing some album reviews and posting them up here. I think it'll provide some good practice and put a give a little structure to what I'm trying to do here. My first review will be of the Jesus Lizard's 1992 album Liar, motivated and inspired by Audrey Gertz's very cool 1992 music review project (thanks, Audrey!). Look for it here soon~

Hiatus Redux

2007-12-18T11:38:00.000-08:00

Hey guys,

So I got hit by the incredible schedule-devouring beast that is final exams, and I have neglected this little side-project like crazy. But I'll be back at it, exercising my criticism muscles just as soon as these things end (Thursday).

In the meantime check out this Mp3 blog, Good Vibrato. They specialize in classical music (including 20th century minimalism), electronic music (laptop pop, glitch, ambient, IDM), and any other type of instrumental music, including post-rock and folk. Each post consists of a painting accompanied by a link to a very-well accredited song (it is called the "occasional blog of the Wordless Music Series" although a few tracks do have some vocals). Since I don't listen to music with words while I'm studying, I've been enjoying it immensely recently.

I'd like to point out two posts I've particularly enjoyed:

Hans Appelqvist: “En Lektion I Ansvar”

Philip Glass: “Floe”

I should also recommend Hype Machine, to those not already relying on its awesomeness to browse music blogs. You can search for artists to stream songs from blog posts, and can make an account and keep a list of favorite blogs. The site includes a streaming player that is wonderful. Here's the site for Good Vibrato on Hype Machine.

Anyway, I return now to my studies, but I'll be back and up and running by the end of this week. See you soon.

Putting my Hiatus on Hiatus

2007-11-09T11:40:00.001-08:00

Well, I certainly didn't intend to take an almost month-long break after my first substantive post. I'll see if I can make contributions with a little more regularity, even if that requires them to be a bit more compact.

Thank you for the comments on the last post, everyone. Chen pointed out a great example of a song that totally embodies the sort of cloud-bursting, huge, minor-verse to major-chorus transition, "Happy Together" by the Turtles, and inadvertently brought "Days" by Television to my attention at the same time, which has little inverted major-verse to minor-chorus action as well.

Koko pointed out a composition of his own that fits in the conventional minor-chorus, major-verse scheme too.

Laurel nobly came to the defense of the slandered "The Fool on the Hill", advocating lyrical primacy as well as the active-listening pleasure of surprising effects in music. While I don't agree with her, I can't say that she's alone.

For one, she's got Alan W. Pollack, musicologist on her side. Here's what he had to say about "Fool":

"This song surely belongs in McCartney's top drawer. On one level, it is one of his most explicit efforts in the evocative direction of the Early Romantic (19th century) 'art song'. Yet, on another level, it can also be described as an intriguing fusion of the sort that is arguably one of Paul's specialties of the house."

I guess I can see where Laurel and her scholarly comrade stand, and I'm trying to really see why I personally don't think it's one of his better compositions.

I think a lot of it has to do with the awkward juxtaposition of that dopey-sounding, oompah rhythm and syrupy-sweet instrumentation with the elongated diction Paul uses to sing the lyrics. It comes off to me like this weird blend of naivety and condescension; when the song goes into its minor key chorus, it's like this concerted effort to "get deep". The moment Paul sings "he knows that they're the fools", is kind of the kicker, the clinching moment of the faux-fool's spiritual snobbery. [Wow, this little digression turned out way more bitter-sounding than I intended... ^_^]

That quote, by the way, was taken from Pollock's analysis of "Fool on the Hill", which is itself part of a huge compendium he composed, a complete music theory analysis of the entire Beatles catalog. (!!!) Entitled the "Notes on..." Series, it consists of Pollock's exploration of the melodic and harmonic structure, lyrical usage, compositional structure, just about every aspect you can think of, for every Beatles song.

You can find it here arranged in alphabetical order (the numbers on the far right signify each song's place in chronological order), here arranged in the order Pollock wrote them, and here in the form of a 751-pg.(!) pdf file (Don't worry, it's all kosher, authorized by Pollock himself).

The Minor Fall, The Major Lift (and Vice Versa)

2007-10-13T22:55:00.000-07:00

Ok then! Introduction complete, hopefully this post will serve some example of what I intend for this blog:

So, one thing I listen for when I listen to music is how a song uses and transitions between major and minor keys. The typical, or at least more conventional approach, is to meander about in the minor key for the verse; brooding, building tension and intensity and then bursting into glorious, golden-hued release with a big major key chorus. One can often see the device clearly at work in big pop ballads.

"Total Eclipse of the Heart" by Bonnie Tyler, is one of the quintessential 80's uber-ballads, truly the cream of the Aquanet crop, and provides a solid example of the major/minor device at work (as an aside, I HIGHLY recommend you check out the video by clicking on the link and experience, for your own cultural edification, the truly peculiar magic of big budget music videos in their awkward formative years). Undeniable schlock-appeal of the accompanying video aside, though, what a set of pipes on Ms. Tyler, eh?

The song's structure is actually not as straightforward as I initially thought. Check, to cite but one example, the little false-lift into major key at 00:38, before collapsing back into minor. Such quirks actually come as no surprise now that I've discovered that Jim Steinman of Meatloaf hit-making fame wrote the thing. but on the whole, the song still serves as a solid illustration of the minor-verse major-chorus device. For another solid example, check R. Kelly ubiqui-ballad "I Believe I Can Fly".

The minor-verse major-chorus trope exists for a reason I think, as I mentioned above. It is undeniably effective, and people will probably milk it until the end of time, with equally unending results.

But what I began to notice were the little odd-balls that bucked the predictable trend; the ugly ducklings that, sometimes awkwardly, took the reverse approach: setting up in major key only to move into minor for the chorus.

A good example of this phenomena is provided by pop indexers The Beatles themselves, in Paul's "The Fool on the Hill". My pop sensibilities are a little jarred every time I hear this song. The explicit and abrupt shift to minor key in the chorus just seems to introduces so much tension to the song, especially after the big major key setup of the verses. It's like the musical equivalent of a feel-good movie climaxing with the disgrace and untimely demise of the likeable main character. In this case I don't think Paul really earns his little musical manipulation. The song ends up an odd sort of spiritually-bent trifle, "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" sitting in lotus position, a doofy smile on its face.

Much more effective I think is the Arcade Fire's approach in "Rebellion (Lies)". Where intensity and desperation are already the name of the game, why not write an anthem that starts in major key and then ratchet up the intensity even further with a minor key shift in the chorus? Win Butler and co. seem to have asked and effectively answered just that question, and skirts the pitfalls of "The Fool on the Hill" by augmenting their minor key chorus with (and this is all over the Arcade Fire's work) BIG everything: an enormous, stomping drumbeat, even higher pitched backing vocals chirping the titular parenthetical refrain, and a soaring wonder of a string melody (Actually, I just realized "Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)" also seems to employ this inverted, major-verse, minor-chorus structure to some extent. Anyone see another Arcade Fire song structured along these lines?).

One might be inclined to think such a compositional gambit would be restricted to the arsenals of pop mavericks like the Arcade Fire or auteurs like Mr. McCartney, but Marc Anthony's "My Baby You" puts the lie to that notion.

As a pop ballad tear-jerker expressly engineered and immaculately constructed specifically for mass consumption, I have to say that this was the most surprising of the three entries into the major-verse, minor-chorus catalog. I think it's interesting that the song's intensely minor key chorus, evocative of uncertainty and pathos, seems to undercut the intended conviction of Mr. Anthony's professions of love. Was such bi-level analysis intended? Should you take offense if your loved one dedicates the song to you? Are J.Lo. and Marc Anthony headed for stormy relationship waters? The answer to these questions is, of course, undoubtedly no, and, it is in noting that my analysis has somehow taken me into the realm of the deciphering of pop songs for their prophetic tabloid fodder content that I close this discussion.

If anyone has any suggestions or entries of their own that fit the major-verse, minor-chorus dichotomy (especially those that do so in a BIG way) please, by all means, let me know! There were a lot of songs that seemed to fit the standard, but just not as exuberantly as the above examples (Belle & Sebastian's "I'm a Cuckoo" and Arcade Fire's "Une Année Sans Lumiére" come to mind).

Also, if any standout examples of the standard "Total Eclipse" "I Believe" minor-verse major-chorus format come to mind, please let me know too! I would love to bolster the meager hard evidence I have that such a structure is even the standard at all.

If you've made it all the the way down here, kudos on your persistence! Until next time, happy listening to you all!

-Yoshi

An Introduction

2007-10-04T16:07:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Magnifiers! My name is Yoshinori Sasao, and I will be your host.

Inevitably, as a human, I am a music fan (and thus, inevitably, so are you). I love music, and I especially love to think about music (I acknowledge my analytic tendencies). I draw upon a bit of music theory knowledge, a smidgen of instrumental experience, and many, many hours of listening. These are my tools, my arsenal of analysis. I love to construct systems, to decode patterns across disparate grounds. Magnifiers is where I will post these systems and patterns and my thoughts on them. With my enthusiasm and my empirical eye, I stake out a new territory in music criticism.

But really, producing this blog will be a pleasure, pure and simple: the pleasure of unfettered and uninhibited self-expression. Honestly, I've waited too long to try my hand at this, out of paralyzing self-consciousness and infinite, perfectionist self-editing. This blog will be driven by directness, exuberance and enthusiasm(!!!). After all, however inscrutable and obscure these systems might get, they are systems constructed out of joy, the joy of listening, a joy I am happy to now share with you.

-Yoshi