For ten seconds in the middle of The Walkmen’s performance of “All Hands & The Cook” during their September 22 show at the 9:30 Club, singer Hamilton Leithauser arched his back, gripped his microphone, and clearly defined every vein in his neck as he held a single note in the middle of the lyric “If you don’t like it, won’t you tell me?” The phrase “ten seconds” is often used as shorthand for “no time at all,” and in most situations, such a short moment cannot hold any significance, but screaming in Leithauser’s sore-throated, somehow suave rasp for ten entire seconds is a feat. He had the stage presence of an angry Frank Sinatra. Guitarist Paul Maroon quietly played his instrument under Leithauser’s yell as the audience cheered on, using their loudness to reach a place of joy as the singer was using his to express frustration. At second eleven, the rest of the band, filled out by drummer Matt Barrick and alternating bassist/organists Peter Bauer and Walter Martin, started playing again. Leithauser took a breath.
The moment, contained within a tense song from The Walkmen’s 2006 album “A Hundred Miles Off,” was rare in its anger. While the band made its name on more aggressive songs like “Little House of Savages” and “The Rat,” Tuesday’s show highlighted music from last year’s “You & Me”— their quietest work so far. That album was partly recorded at the legendary Sun Studio in Memphis, Tennessee, former home of Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Roy Orbison, and nearly every other major rock act of the 1950s. It, and the four or five new songs played at the show, took most of its inspiration from Orbison’s back catalogue, where the slow songs are about staying up through the night trying to convince yourself that you are better off without her and the fast songs are about knowing that you are better off.
“Thinking of a Dream I Had,” an early career track usually defined by its galloping drums and paper shredder-tuned guitar, was significantly settled down for the show; while the drumming stayed furious, the guitar hit a soft, dreamy reverb. During the band’s summer, 2008 tour, Leithauser picked up his own electric guitar during the song to complement Maroon’s, but now a single guitar plays lower in the mix than the bass. In other words, it was adapted into The Walkmen’s new style.
That isn’t a knock, though. “You & Me” songs like “Red Moon” and “Canadian Girl,” reached slower tempos, but expressed as much regret and longing as anything that The Walkmen have ever turned up to ten. These songs, as well as a small number from “A Hundred Miles Off,” were complemented by a four-piece horn section made up of three trumpets and a trombone. One of the trumpeters was later introduced as Leithauser’s wife, and during “Red Moon,” he swayed back and forth while watching her; he was playing an acoustic guitar as she trumpeted in a dual serenade.
Last year’s relatively new material does have edge, but it appears in smaller quantities. “On The Water” opened with muffled instrumentals before taking off as Maroon brought his guitar from wandering to immediate and one of the trumpeters went crazy on a triangle pressed against a microphone. Second song of the night “In The New Year’s” chorus led the majority of the audience to sing along and revel in the optimism of lyrics like “I don’t see the bad times and I never will” while Leithauser’s face turned red from screaming and the fingers he was using to hold his microphone all twitched wildly from their knuckles.
Though the band formed in New York City and is currently based there and in Philadelphia, every member grew up in Washington, and Leithauser noted at the beginning and end how happy he was to play at home. During the encore, a middle-aged man made his way to the edge of the stage, called the singer’s name, and, after Leithauser recognized him, shook his hand. Moments like this created a feeling that the band was giving its former hometown a present, and that a show this good could only occur in Washington.
And yes, they played “The Rat” during the encore and everybody rocked out.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Yo La Tengo Concert Review: 9/17/09, 9:30 Club, Washington (Originally Posted To TheEagleOnline.com)
One of the great ironies of Yo La Tengo is how little they have changed as a band in the seventeen years since James McNew signed on as bassist, but how incredibly wide their range has become. Thursday’s set at the 9:30 Club showed off this range, covering the quiet, late-night introspection of 2000’s “And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out,” the heavy, near-psychedelic qualities of new album opener “Here To Fall,” and the stripped down covers that have consistently shown up in Yo La Tengo’s shows and albums since their original, McNew-less 1986 inception. Ira Kaplan still burst into long-but-never-too-long guitar solos; Georgia Hubley still played the drums better than she will ever receive credit for.
The lack of change to the trio’s set-up has been a boon if anything, leading to near-psychic connections between the band mates: When Kaplan turned the normally succinct “Let’s Save Tony Orlando’s House” into an extended jam, McNew and Hubley did not miss a beat, continuing the song and playing off of their guitarist’s improvisations, and when Kaplan made a passing reference to the group’s hometown of Hoboken and his marriage to Hubley in between songs, it was acknowledged that if you had paid to see Yo La Tengo, you were probably familiar with their history.
As is the case on their albums, Hubley and Kaplan’s voices were often overtaken by their instruments. Even during quieter, sparer songs like “Autumn Sweater,” where the only noises come from two drummers and an organ, Kaplan’s vocals were mixed so low that it was easy to wonder whether or not he was still singing. The decision to keep the vocals low seemed like a defense mechanism at times, especially when Kaplan was whispering out lyrics like “I try my best to hide in the crowded room; it’s nearly impossible.” When his more aggressive work kicked in during initial set closer “Pass the Hatchet, I Think I’m Goodkind,” though, there was no question that Kaplan was capable of being heard when he wanted to be.
Surprisingly, when James McNew sang lead vocals in a falsetto familiar to fans of his solo project, Dump, he was able to rise above the instrumentation, as was displayed during a cover of Black Flag’s “Nervous Breakdown.”
While the first half of the band’s two hour set was heavy on songs led by organ, the back half brought out Kaplan’s guitar hero ferocity, with highlights in the classic “Tom Courtenay” and “Sugarcube,” which was introduced with 30 seconds of random noise by each band member before revealing itself to be Yo La Tengo’s highest charting single and the song that tried to turn the band into a radio sensation. The song is still catchy ten years on, and when the small guitar solos that punctuate the chorus broke out, McNew was clearly smiling. “Sugarcube” led one man in the front row to take his earplugs out. If you’re going to lose your hearing, there are much worse soundtracks to a deafening than a Yo La Tengo song.
Toward the end, Hubley came out from behind her drum kit to play acoustic guitar, a move that Kaplan said was “quickly becoming [his] favorite part of the show.” It was clear that there was affection amongst the band members. The evidence was in every one of Kaplan’s smiles to his wife and in every nod to McNew that signified the introduction of an eight minute solo.
The lack of change to the trio’s set-up has been a boon if anything, leading to near-psychic connections between the band mates: When Kaplan turned the normally succinct “Let’s Save Tony Orlando’s House” into an extended jam, McNew and Hubley did not miss a beat, continuing the song and playing off of their guitarist’s improvisations, and when Kaplan made a passing reference to the group’s hometown of Hoboken and his marriage to Hubley in between songs, it was acknowledged that if you had paid to see Yo La Tengo, you were probably familiar with their history.
As is the case on their albums, Hubley and Kaplan’s voices were often overtaken by their instruments. Even during quieter, sparer songs like “Autumn Sweater,” where the only noises come from two drummers and an organ, Kaplan’s vocals were mixed so low that it was easy to wonder whether or not he was still singing. The decision to keep the vocals low seemed like a defense mechanism at times, especially when Kaplan was whispering out lyrics like “I try my best to hide in the crowded room; it’s nearly impossible.” When his more aggressive work kicked in during initial set closer “Pass the Hatchet, I Think I’m Goodkind,” though, there was no question that Kaplan was capable of being heard when he wanted to be.
Surprisingly, when James McNew sang lead vocals in a falsetto familiar to fans of his solo project, Dump, he was able to rise above the instrumentation, as was displayed during a cover of Black Flag’s “Nervous Breakdown.”
While the first half of the band’s two hour set was heavy on songs led by organ, the back half brought out Kaplan’s guitar hero ferocity, with highlights in the classic “Tom Courtenay” and “Sugarcube,” which was introduced with 30 seconds of random noise by each band member before revealing itself to be Yo La Tengo’s highest charting single and the song that tried to turn the band into a radio sensation. The song is still catchy ten years on, and when the small guitar solos that punctuate the chorus broke out, McNew was clearly smiling. “Sugarcube” led one man in the front row to take his earplugs out. If you’re going to lose your hearing, there are much worse soundtracks to a deafening than a Yo La Tengo song.
Toward the end, Hubley came out from behind her drum kit to play acoustic guitar, a move that Kaplan said was “quickly becoming [his] favorite part of the show.” It was clear that there was affection amongst the band members. The evidence was in every one of Kaplan’s smiles to his wife and in every nod to McNew that signified the introduction of an eight minute solo.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Review - Beheaded by Bedhead
I'm writing this to tell you about an album I'm really enjoying. It is "Beheaded" by the band Bedhead. Maybe you've already heard of it/them, maybe you haven't. Either way I'm going to go ahead and overwrite the hell out of this recommendation
Bedhead were a 90s indie rock band, sometimes perhaps unfairly called slow-core. I say this because I don't really know how anyone can get excited over a genre called slow-core. The singer's voice is subdued and reminds me a little of Ira Kaplan ofYo La Tengo, and I think if you like YLT you'll like Bedhead as well.
At the recommendation of one of my favorite blogs I checked out their first album, "WhatFunLifeWas", and while I liked it I was a bit disappointed. It seemed a little too simple, relying on the same predictable dynamic shifts. There were a few good tracks on it, but as a whole I didn't think it was that special.
I found their third album at a used record store, and while I liked that it was more polished, and I thought the songs were well-written, it sounded a bit tired and didn't have that something to make it great.
Flash forward to a week ago, and I decided to try out their second album, "Beheaded". I hadn't listened to it earlier because I thought any album that's a pun on the band's name isn't going to be that good. I was wrong.
It's darker than Bedhead's other efforts, and than those the band that rose from Bedhead's ashes, The New Year, write. But it definitely has a kind of originality the other albums lack; from the opening track I could tell this was different from the other Bedhead I'd heard. It can be depressing and bleak, but I'm unaware of any albums like it.
The next track is reminiscent of the first Bedhead album, gradually getting louder and more intense. A little predictable, but he climax is rewarding and better than most of the songs on WhatFunLifeWas.
There are a few tracks in here, that while are not necessarily throw-away tracks, aren't as strong as the album highlights. But seven out of 11 tracks being great are some pretty good percentages. And seven is a safe estimate.
The lyrics also seem better this time around, but it could be that they're just easier to hear. Or maybe it's just the way the singer pulls off the lyrics that makes me want to find a lyrics sheet, that makes it hard to ignore the meaning of the words coming out of his mouth.
In addition to the first track, "Smoke", "Roman Candle", "Withdraw" and "Lares And Penates" are worth you listening to this album. "Withdraw" is probably the most accessible, so if you need to preview a track I'd check out that one. However, "Lares and Penates" is my personal favorite at the moment. But honestly every track is an enjoyable listen.
So if you're looking for a quiet and depressing but beautiful album, give Beheaded a go.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Kanye West Is Doing It
If you were at all keen on Kanye West, I hope you stayed away from Facebook and Twitter for the past week. Every third status update revolved around how evil West was for taking time away from Taylor Swift's acceptance speech at the MTV Video Music Awards, and the comments attached to these posts always carried something to the effect of "WHAT A JERK I HATE HIM!"
And I understand the feelings behind this, but I love Kanye West.
For the sake of getting it out of the way early, I'll mention upfront that I don't care about the VMAs or Taylor Swift. You know who had the best music video of the year? Dinosaur Jr. You know who deserved to win instead of Taylor Swift? Whoever actually directed and produced the video that her song played behind.
This doesn't mean that she didn't deserve her time to shine-- it isn't Swift's fault that the VMAs need recognizable faces to deliver speeches, and it's clear that J Mascis won't ever hit the spotlight again the way he did when his band was at the height of their fame with "Feel The Pain," and MTV has to reflect that in their awards shows.
What this means is that I don't find West's interruption to be an open sore on the face of MTV the way the rest of my peers do.
Still, it's rude as hell. We have our new King of All Rock Stars.
A few years ago, Spin Magazine declared Marilyn Manson to be the last American rock star. We had lost our Motley Crues and Diamond Daves, but we still had Manson, and he was going to be the hero who decided to take a helicopter ride to a super-model's house at 4 a.m. He was going to show up to every press event drunk and pass out with his hands on an interviewer's breasts. He was going to marry and divorce the same woman four times over the course of a year.
The problem with this is that Manson is too obsessed with how he is perceived. During interviews, he's always sure to make shocking comments apropos of nothing. Sometimes he's happy that the US dropped atomic bombs on Japan, sometimes he stops the interview cold to usher in whoever he's dating and then proceed to make out with that person in front of the interviewer. He wants the attention and never stops trying to attain it. Axl Rose didn't become a recluse because he wanted the paparazzi to camp outside of his mansion; Ozzy Osbourne didn't drink Nikki Sixx's urine with the intent to publish a book about the event later. For a rock star to be truly interesting, he has to say and do things that happen because he just has some inherent feeling that he must say and do them.
The problem with such wild spontaneity is the consequences. When Vince Neil went on a weeks-long bender, his adventure ended in the deaths of three people. Neil delivered a public apology, but at the end of the day, everybody had to remember that three people had died.
When West loses his mind, the only damage done is inflicted upon West. And the apologies are the best part. After the Taylor Swift incident, West exclaimed that he felt "LIKE BEN STILLER IN "MEET THE PARENTS" WHEN HE MESSED UP AND ROBERT DENIRO ASKED HIM TO LEAVE." In another blog apology, West expressed regret over his actions, followed by this statement, addressed to Swift: "YOU ARE VERY VERY TALENTED!!!!!!! I GAVE MY AWARDS TO OUTKAST OVER ME WHEN THEY DESERVED IT OVER ME... THAT'S WHAT IT IS!!!!!!!! I'M NOT CRAZY YALL. I'M JUST REAL."
In the process of apologizing, West implied that Swift should have given her award to competitor Beyonce because Swift should have recognized that the video made for her song was inferior to the one for Beyonce's. BRILLIANT YALL. Even in his apologies, he can't help but put her down.
West is also head and shoulders above his peers because he is a loud personality in music when loud personalities are diminishing in number. Thom Yorke of Radiohead does not want to be cool and believes that he is not accepted by those who are, nobody really knows what the guys in Daft Punk look like, and if a member of Nickelback was to sit down next to you on the Metro, you wouldn't know him from your plumber. These are the biggest bands of our generation.
Kanye West's explosions are fascinating, Kanye West's attempts at redemption are fascinating, Kanye West's periods of relative silence are fascinating (like today, when he used his blog to post five pictures of high-design chairs and then delete three of them). Kanye West is our rock star. Kanye West is doing it.
And I understand the feelings behind this, but I love Kanye West.
For the sake of getting it out of the way early, I'll mention upfront that I don't care about the VMAs or Taylor Swift. You know who had the best music video of the year? Dinosaur Jr. You know who deserved to win instead of Taylor Swift? Whoever actually directed and produced the video that her song played behind.
This doesn't mean that she didn't deserve her time to shine-- it isn't Swift's fault that the VMAs need recognizable faces to deliver speeches, and it's clear that J Mascis won't ever hit the spotlight again the way he did when his band was at the height of their fame with "Feel The Pain," and MTV has to reflect that in their awards shows.
What this means is that I don't find West's interruption to be an open sore on the face of MTV the way the rest of my peers do.
Still, it's rude as hell. We have our new King of All Rock Stars.
A few years ago, Spin Magazine declared Marilyn Manson to be the last American rock star. We had lost our Motley Crues and Diamond Daves, but we still had Manson, and he was going to be the hero who decided to take a helicopter ride to a super-model's house at 4 a.m. He was going to show up to every press event drunk and pass out with his hands on an interviewer's breasts. He was going to marry and divorce the same woman four times over the course of a year.
The problem with this is that Manson is too obsessed with how he is perceived. During interviews, he's always sure to make shocking comments apropos of nothing. Sometimes he's happy that the US dropped atomic bombs on Japan, sometimes he stops the interview cold to usher in whoever he's dating and then proceed to make out with that person in front of the interviewer. He wants the attention and never stops trying to attain it. Axl Rose didn't become a recluse because he wanted the paparazzi to camp outside of his mansion; Ozzy Osbourne didn't drink Nikki Sixx's urine with the intent to publish a book about the event later. For a rock star to be truly interesting, he has to say and do things that happen because he just has some inherent feeling that he must say and do them.
The problem with such wild spontaneity is the consequences. When Vince Neil went on a weeks-long bender, his adventure ended in the deaths of three people. Neil delivered a public apology, but at the end of the day, everybody had to remember that three people had died.
When West loses his mind, the only damage done is inflicted upon West. And the apologies are the best part. After the Taylor Swift incident, West exclaimed that he felt "LIKE BEN STILLER IN "MEET THE PARENTS" WHEN HE MESSED UP AND ROBERT DENIRO ASKED HIM TO LEAVE." In another blog apology, West expressed regret over his actions, followed by this statement, addressed to Swift: "YOU ARE VERY VERY TALENTED!!!!!!! I GAVE MY AWARDS TO OUTKAST OVER ME WHEN THEY DESERVED IT OVER ME... THAT'S WHAT IT IS!!!!!!!! I'M NOT CRAZY YALL. I'M JUST REAL."
In the process of apologizing, West implied that Swift should have given her award to competitor Beyonce because Swift should have recognized that the video made for her song was inferior to the one for Beyonce's. BRILLIANT YALL. Even in his apologies, he can't help but put her down.
West is also head and shoulders above his peers because he is a loud personality in music when loud personalities are diminishing in number. Thom Yorke of Radiohead does not want to be cool and believes that he is not accepted by those who are, nobody really knows what the guys in Daft Punk look like, and if a member of Nickelback was to sit down next to you on the Metro, you wouldn't know him from your plumber. These are the biggest bands of our generation.
Kanye West's explosions are fascinating, Kanye West's attempts at redemption are fascinating, Kanye West's periods of relative silence are fascinating (like today, when he used his blog to post five pictures of high-design chairs and then delete three of them). Kanye West is our rock star. Kanye West is doing it.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Sam's Top Ten Shows
I wrote this a while ago, and looking through old stuff decided to update it, and then decided it was the kind of thing that could be posted on a music blog.
Sam's top 11 showsof all time so far :
1. Broken Social Scene @ Showbox Sodo in Seattle
2. Kaki King @ the Attic in Santa Cruz
3. The Arcade Fire @ The Greek Theatre in Berkeley
4. Beirut @ the Grand Ballroom in San Francisco
5. Deerhunter @ Nuemo's in Seattle
6. Beach House @ Bimbo's 365 Club in San Francisco
7. Broken Social Scene/Two Gallants @ The Greek Theatre in Berkeley
8. The National @ The Moore in Seattle
9. Kaki King @ Outside Lands in San Francisco
10. Islands @ Bimbo's 365 Club in San Francisco
11. Lucy Michelle and the Velvet Lapelles @ The Den in Tacoma
And the honorable mention goes to Built To Spill @ the Pitchfork Music Festival in Chicago
Sam's top 11 shows
1. Broken Social Scene @ Showbox Sodo in Seattle
2. Kaki King @ the Attic in Santa Cruz
3. The Arcade Fire @ The Greek Theatre in Berkeley
4. Beirut @ the Grand Ballroom in San Francisco
5. Deerhunter @ Nuemo's in Seattle
6. Beach House @ Bimbo's 365 Club in San Francisco
7. Broken Social Scene/Two Gallants @ The Greek Theatre in Berkeley
8. The National @ The Moore in Seattle
9. Kaki King @ Outside Lands in San Francisco
10. Islands @ Bimbo's 365 Club in San Francisco
11. Lucy Michelle and the Velvet Lapelles @ The Den in Tacoma
And the honorable mention goes to Built To Spill @ the Pitchfork Music Festival in Chicago
Sunday, August 16, 2009
On Music Piracy
This may not make any sense to you, but I've developed a code of conduct as pertaining to music piracy: I don't have a problem with people downloading music--I have a problem with people not feeling guilty about downloading music, people who feel that they are entitled to download something because it's freely available--that the universe owes them music, that it's rightfully theirs and therefore people who buy CDs are brain-washed capitalist consumers.
I'm hypocritical. I've downloaded hundreds of albums, and for most of them I didn't even stop and think twice about downloading. I tell myself it's okay to download them because I don't have the money to purchase CDs; the sales wouldn't exist anyway. I rationalize that I buy the CDs I love when I do have the money, and end up using downloading as more of a preview service than a collection of music. I tell myself the musician makes very little on each album and a few cents isn't going to make that much difference either way. I go to shows, I recommend music to people I think will like it, I support the bands I love and don't support those I don't like, and therefore it's okay to pirate music because I'm shaping the music industry with my purchases.
But a lot of that, and other arguments for illegal music downloading, is muddled thinking, and it's a result of an excessive music industry. While I'm going to defend my position on music piracy, I feel obligated to acknowledge that I think the music industry is inherently broken. I find it hard to justify paying anything for music downloads, yet alone the bloated prices of songs on digital music stores such as iTunes or Amazon. But I'm also part of a group of people that needs a tangible object in their hands, a group of people that may very well be growing smaller and smaller with every generation, and I might even stop purchasing music altogether if the CD dies out. I'm not going into any more depth on what's wrong right now and my ideas for a solution (mostly because they aren't fully thought out), but there needs to be some kind of massive overhaul, and until that happens piracy will continue to occur.
What prompted me to write this piece was a post someone left in the shoutbox for on the Mount Eerie page of last.fm, in regards to pirating the album Wind's Poem,
"Why not? The music sounds the same whether you buy it or not - Culture should not be a commodity that must be brought - Culture should be free to all. If we can make it free - why choose to buy? Purchasing music does not make one a more 'real' or 'authentic' a fan of music. If one feels it does, well done consumerist culture, Capitalist Ideology has made us think that buying things makes us whole! Yay!"
I get agitated every time I read it. It's the product of illogical thinking, of blindly choosing one view of an argument without considering the other.
Even if we ignore the audiophile side of the argument (that the music on CDs is in a lossless format and to many sounds better than MP3s) there are numerous examples of music being leaked to the public before it's even done being mixed. But mp3 (lossy) degradation also occurs offline, when someone burns CD for a friend from MP3s. The point is that with society in love with the MP3, many times a pirated copy does sound inferior to a CD.
I don't think anyone's trying to say that culture should come at a price, but part of the problem with piracy is that there's access to so much music, it's easy to become overwhelmed by it all, and overlook something great because you didn't like it on an initial listen. I'd argue that with fewer CDs it's easier to form an attachment to them. The act of making an investment on a CD makes you more prone to give it a fair chance.
This post comments that "if we can make it free, why choose to buy?". Music is not free just because it's free to you; it still costs the musician money to purchase instruments, rent a studio, pay studio musicians, mix, master, pay for cover art, promote the CD, and living expenses. No musician should be in it for the money, because that's a stupid idea. The money's pretty bad unless you're in the top 0.5%, but that doesn't mean a musician shouldn't get paid for something he or she spent hundreds of hours working on and poured immeasurable amounts of themselves into.
Furthermore, like it or not we live in a capitalist society: how we spend our money chooses what we support, what is continued to be produced and what isn't. I've spent over $200 on headphones that were probably made in a sweatshop, and I feel bad that my money went to the owners of sweatshops rather than the musicians of the CDs I could have bought with that money. It doesn't make sense to me to continue pouring money into something I don't support over something I do. But at the same time I'm not going to go into a store and steal headphones.
A few days later the poster responded to the discussion in the shout box as such:
"How amusing, Art should be free as it should not be something limited by how much money you make, it should not be something the rich can have and the poor cannot have. Supporting artists is all well and good, but the price on albums is rather ridiculous. If I were to change my sinful ways, I would have to spend over, say 10 thousand pound. Now before I downloaded music I barely listened to anything as I didn't have the money. Packaging is not why I want to listen to music and at the end of the day if I were Phil I'd be happy that my music was getting to more people than ever, rather than getting angry at the leak and subsequent lack of money. Now if you believe that Art will disappear if artists don't get a lot of money, you have reached heights of cynicism that not even I approach. Also I have not met you, so why are you calling me a dumb stoner?* Also, I actually do buy films** and I have spent way to much money on them, as I love them and think the higher quality pays off."
*Note: No one made a comment whatsoever about him being dumb or a stoner.***
**For people unaware of the piracy scene it's just as easy to pirate movies as it is music.
***After he made this comment I looked at his last.fm page and saw this: "I am a communist a film, music and video games nerd and I love drinking tea and smoking green."
It makes me feel better that not all people are as stupid as him. Now getting back on the subject...
Downloading music has allowed me to come across great bands I would NEVER have heard of otherwise (Brasstronaut, The Middle East, Seagull), and to show my support I buy their albums. New CDs probably won't exist in 40 years, and all my CDs will be worthless pieces of plastic, but I won't consider the money I spent wasted because it went towards supporting the artist. The only thing I have to show for the hundreds of dollars I've spent on concert tickets are my memories, but I also know that some of the money I spent allowed the artist to continue to make and play music.
Finally, this will probably sound stupid, MP3s aren't an adequate replacement for the CD; there's no soul in an MP3. It's something that exists only in the hard drive of my computer as a group of ones and zeros. Every MP3 I own appears exactly the same in iTunes, and I don't feel that much for any of them. Whereas with most of my CDs I can tell you where/when/why I purchased them, the memories surrounding the music, and to what other CDs those purchases lead me; they tell a continually evolving story of my music tastes.
In the end I think most artists would rather have someone buy a CD if only to distinguish it from everything else they download--because I think people are much more likely to give something a fair chance if they have it on CD, if they paid money for it; if they aren't spoiled by the technology available and half-listen to it once while making comments before dismissing it with the ten other albums they downloaded that day.
I'm hypocritical. I've downloaded hundreds of albums, and for most of them I didn't even stop and think twice about downloading. I tell myself it's okay to download them because I don't have the money to purchase CDs; the sales wouldn't exist anyway. I rationalize that I buy the CDs I love when I do have the money, and end up using downloading as more of a preview service than a collection of music. I tell myself the musician makes very little on each album and a few cents isn't going to make that much difference either way. I go to shows, I recommend music to people I think will like it, I support the bands I love and don't support those I don't like, and therefore it's okay to pirate music because I'm shaping the music industry with my purchases.
But a lot of that, and other arguments for illegal music downloading, is muddled thinking, and it's a result of an excessive music industry. While I'm going to defend my position on music piracy, I feel obligated to acknowledge that I think the music industry is inherently broken. I find it hard to justify paying anything for music downloads, yet alone the bloated prices of songs on digital music stores such as iTunes or Amazon. But I'm also part of a group of people that needs a tangible object in their hands, a group of people that may very well be growing smaller and smaller with every generation, and I might even stop purchasing music altogether if the CD dies out. I'm not going into any more depth on what's wrong right now and my ideas for a solution (mostly because they aren't fully thought out), but there needs to be some kind of massive overhaul, and until that happens piracy will continue to occur.
What prompted me to write this piece was a post someone left in the shoutbox for on the Mount Eerie page of last.fm, in regards to pirating the album Wind's Poem,
"Why not? The music sounds the same whether you buy it or not - Culture should not be a commodity that must be brought - Culture should be free to all. If we can make it free - why choose to buy? Purchasing music does not make one a more 'real' or 'authentic' a fan of music. If one feels it does, well done consumerist culture, Capitalist Ideology has made us think that buying things makes us whole! Yay!"
I get agitated every time I read it. It's the product of illogical thinking, of blindly choosing one view of an argument without considering the other.
Even if we ignore the audiophile side of the argument (that the music on CDs is in a lossless format and to many sounds better than MP3s) there are numerous examples of music being leaked to the public before it's even done being mixed. But mp3 (lossy) degradation also occurs offline, when someone burns CD for a friend from MP3s. The point is that with society in love with the MP3, many times a pirated copy does sound inferior to a CD.
I don't think anyone's trying to say that culture should come at a price, but part of the problem with piracy is that there's access to so much music, it's easy to become overwhelmed by it all, and overlook something great because you didn't like it on an initial listen. I'd argue that with fewer CDs it's easier to form an attachment to them. The act of making an investment on a CD makes you more prone to give it a fair chance.
This post comments that "if we can make it free, why choose to buy?". Music is not free just because it's free to you; it still costs the musician money to purchase instruments, rent a studio, pay studio musicians, mix, master, pay for cover art, promote the CD, and living expenses. No musician should be in it for the money, because that's a stupid idea. The money's pretty bad unless you're in the top 0.5%, but that doesn't mean a musician shouldn't get paid for something he or she spent hundreds of hours working on and poured immeasurable amounts of themselves into.
Furthermore, like it or not we live in a capitalist society: how we spend our money chooses what we support, what is continued to be produced and what isn't. I've spent over $200 on headphones that were probably made in a sweatshop, and I feel bad that my money went to the owners of sweatshops rather than the musicians of the CDs I could have bought with that money. It doesn't make sense to me to continue pouring money into something I don't support over something I do. But at the same time I'm not going to go into a store and steal headphones.
A few days later the poster responded to the discussion in the shout box as such:
"How amusing, Art should be free as it should not be something limited by how much money you make, it should not be something the rich can have and the poor cannot have. Supporting artists is all well and good, but the price on albums is rather ridiculous. If I were to change my sinful ways, I would have to spend over, say 10 thousand pound. Now before I downloaded music I barely listened to anything as I didn't have the money. Packaging is not why I want to listen to music and at the end of the day if I were Phil I'd be happy that my music was getting to more people than ever, rather than getting angry at the leak and subsequent lack of money. Now if you believe that Art will disappear if artists don't get a lot of money, you have reached heights of cynicism that not even I approach. Also I have not met you, so why are you calling me a dumb stoner?* Also, I actually do buy films** and I have spent way to much money on them, as I love them and think the higher quality pays off."
*Note: No one made a comment whatsoever about him being dumb or a stoner.***
**For people unaware of the piracy scene it's just as easy to pirate movies as it is music.
***After he made this comment I looked at his last.fm page and saw this: "I am a communist a film, music and video games nerd and I love drinking tea and smoking green."
It makes me feel better that not all people are as stupid as him. Now getting back on the subject...
Downloading music has allowed me to come across great bands I would NEVER have heard of otherwise (Brasstronaut, The Middle East, Seagull), and to show my support I buy their albums. New CDs probably won't exist in 40 years, and all my CDs will be worthless pieces of plastic, but I won't consider the money I spent wasted because it went towards supporting the artist. The only thing I have to show for the hundreds of dollars I've spent on concert tickets are my memories, but I also know that some of the money I spent allowed the artist to continue to make and play music.
Finally, this will probably sound stupid, MP3s aren't an adequate replacement for the CD; there's no soul in an MP3. It's something that exists only in the hard drive of my computer as a group of ones and zeros. Every MP3 I own appears exactly the same in iTunes, and I don't feel that much for any of them. Whereas with most of my CDs I can tell you where/when/why I purchased them, the memories surrounding the music, and to what other CDs those purchases lead me; they tell a continually evolving story of my music tastes.
In the end I think most artists would rather have someone buy a CD if only to distinguish it from everything else they download--because I think people are much more likely to give something a fair chance if they have it on CD, if they paid money for it; if they aren't spoiled by the technology available and half-listen to it once while making comments before dismissing it with the ten other albums they downloaded that day.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
In Defense of Everybody's Favorite Album of All Time
Neutral Milk Hotel's In The Aeroplane Over The Sea is not my favorite album, but it is the sort of album that leaves me wondering if there will ever be anything as good ever again every time Jeff Mangum puts his guitar down at the end of "Two Headed Boy, Part 2." Yes, that sounds like hyperbole, and it probably is, but a large percentage of the music nerd world feels the exact same way, and none of us is faking it or trying too hard to fall in love with something that does not warrant our appreciation.
When I first discovered Aeroplane, I did not know about that following. I wasn't familiar with the name "Neutral Milk Hotel" or "Elephant Six" or "Mangum," I didn't know that the band had only released two albums, and when a friend stuck "King of Carrot Flowers, Part 1" on a mix CD during my sophomore year of high school, I didn't know that everybody everywhere had been waiting for a follow-up for eight years. If anything separates Sam from myself regarding this album, it is that I walked in without expectations. I heard "King of Carrot Flowers, Part 1," I fell in love, and I bought the full album. Hipsters weren't telling me how life-changing Aeroplane was to them; Pitchfork wasn't telling me that Jeff Mangum had managed to part heaven and let pure melancholic expression back into the lives of the many, or whatever the hell they were on about.
That isn't to say that In The Aeroplane Over The Sea can only be appreciated before it has been talked up, but that my love for it has probably become so steady because for all I knew I was initially listening to something that had been released earlier that month in 2005. You have to decide for yourself that something is brilliant, and I was afforded that luxury with an album so highly (and widely) praised that I still cannot believe that I didn't know it existed.
The production quality has never bothered me. Everything is clear and everything sounds exactly as it was intended to sound. I would even go so far as to call the guitar sounds "crisp." This isn't lo-fi in the sense that it sounds rough on purpose; it's lo-fi in the sense that Rick Rubin wasn't around to throw money at it, and the instrumentation never blurs together (with the exception of "Holland, 1945" and "King of Carrot Flowers Part 2 and 3," which are intentional blow-outs) or becomes too obscured to enjoy. That isn't to dismiss Sam's point-- bad production quality will destroy an otherwise good album-- but Aeroplane is produced wonderfully (there's another vague positive word), and easily sounds better than anything from early Yo La Tengo, early Pavement or Mount Eerie (sidenote: Phil Elverum owes his career to this album).
Jeff Mangum has a very pure voice. It's hard to call it anything else. Neutral Milk Hotel's singer/lyricist is always able to completely enunciate every word and idea. His poetry is itself profoundly and emotionally touching (whatever that means), and the voice only enhances it. Mangum has a terrific control over the volume of his voice. I wish that I could pinpoint why this matters so much, but all I can say is that it does, and let the reader listen for himself.
Anyway,
I think that In The Aeroplane Over The Sea is very good. The music is wonderful and the lyrics are as poetic as anything ever was. That is my review. That is my seventh-grade-debate defense. The difference between Jeff Mangum and the asshole playing guitar in the corner at every party is that Mangum can write lyrics and his band (who I should have emphasized more above, as they are nearly as important as their singer) can write music. I love this album and I can't really explain why. My brain can say "thank God I didn't walk in with unreal expectations," but it can't pick apart why I don't mind one of Sam's points about the "campfire" qualities of Jeff Mangum's guitar playing (though even Sam admits that the horns are BOSS). I asked Sam if I could defend this album a few days ago after he wanted to know if I would be interested in writing on this blog, and I can't just not write anything, but at the same time, I can't explain why I absolutely enjoy Aeroplane. It is moving. It is still moving every time I listen to it.
When I first discovered Aeroplane, I did not know about that following. I wasn't familiar with the name "Neutral Milk Hotel" or "Elephant Six" or "Mangum," I didn't know that the band had only released two albums, and when a friend stuck "King of Carrot Flowers, Part 1" on a mix CD during my sophomore year of high school, I didn't know that everybody everywhere had been waiting for a follow-up for eight years. If anything separates Sam from myself regarding this album, it is that I walked in without expectations. I heard "King of Carrot Flowers, Part 1," I fell in love, and I bought the full album. Hipsters weren't telling me how life-changing Aeroplane was to them; Pitchfork wasn't telling me that Jeff Mangum had managed to part heaven and let pure melancholic expression back into the lives of the many, or whatever the hell they were on about.
That isn't to say that In The Aeroplane Over The Sea can only be appreciated before it has been talked up, but that my love for it has probably become so steady because for all I knew I was initially listening to something that had been released earlier that month in 2005. You have to decide for yourself that something is brilliant, and I was afforded that luxury with an album so highly (and widely) praised that I still cannot believe that I didn't know it existed.
The production quality has never bothered me. Everything is clear and everything sounds exactly as it was intended to sound. I would even go so far as to call the guitar sounds "crisp." This isn't lo-fi in the sense that it sounds rough on purpose; it's lo-fi in the sense that Rick Rubin wasn't around to throw money at it, and the instrumentation never blurs together (with the exception of "Holland, 1945" and "King of Carrot Flowers Part 2 and 3," which are intentional blow-outs) or becomes too obscured to enjoy. That isn't to dismiss Sam's point-- bad production quality will destroy an otherwise good album-- but Aeroplane is produced wonderfully (there's another vague positive word), and easily sounds better than anything from early Yo La Tengo, early Pavement or Mount Eerie (sidenote: Phil Elverum owes his career to this album).
Jeff Mangum has a very pure voice. It's hard to call it anything else. Neutral Milk Hotel's singer/lyricist is always able to completely enunciate every word and idea. His poetry is itself profoundly and emotionally touching (whatever that means), and the voice only enhances it. Mangum has a terrific control over the volume of his voice. I wish that I could pinpoint why this matters so much, but all I can say is that it does, and let the reader listen for himself.
Anyway,
I think that In The Aeroplane Over The Sea is very good. The music is wonderful and the lyrics are as poetic as anything ever was. That is my review. That is my seventh-grade-debate defense. The difference between Jeff Mangum and the asshole playing guitar in the corner at every party is that Mangum can write lyrics and his band (who I should have emphasized more above, as they are nearly as important as their singer) can write music. I love this album and I can't really explain why. My brain can say "thank God I didn't walk in with unreal expectations," but it can't pick apart why I don't mind one of Sam's points about the "campfire" qualities of Jeff Mangum's guitar playing (though even Sam admits that the horns are BOSS). I asked Sam if I could defend this album a few days ago after he wanted to know if I would be interested in writing on this blog, and I can't just not write anything, but at the same time, I can't explain why I absolutely enjoy Aeroplane. It is moving. It is still moving every time I listen to it.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Overrated: "In The Aeroplane Over The Sea"
First of all, while these segments may be controversial, they do not aim to be inflammatory for no other reason than to evoke public outcry. The goal of these pieces is to explain why the author thinks these album are overrated and at the same time acknowledge why others praise them.
Neutral Milk Hotel
In The Aeroplane Over The Sea
1998
When it comes down to it, my taste's don't vary that much from most fans of indie rock/pop. However I disagree with all those who consider Neutral Milk Hotel's In The Aeroplane Over The Sea to be "perfect" and hugely influential.
I first tried to make my way through In The "Aeroplane Over The Sea" in high school. Granted at the time I was looking for bands with the same grandiosity as Broken Social Scene and The Arcade Fire, and was disappointed by it.
Flash forward to my freshmen year in college, and I kept reading people reference this album as one of their favorites, and thought I'd give it another try. This time I unfairly dismissed it as overrated sloppy campfire songs—the kind of songs that jerk at the party with the guitar would be playing. (2010 EDIT: I actually met one of those jerks last summer, transcending them from the "oh they probably exist" level to the "oh they unfortunately do exist" level)
A few weeks ago I sat down and tried it again, after listening to the "Everything Is" ep and enjoying it. Has my opinion changed?
I still think the guitar is too campfire-y. But I can forgive that; progressions have been ripped off since the dawn of music by countless imitators in their soulless tunes, but Neutral Milk Hotel do a good job convincing me that these aren't those songs, but instead something unique.
I still think most of the vocals are sloppy. But the melodies are catchy as hell. After repeated listenings many melodies were stuck in my head. I think Jeff Mangum's voice is so much more effective when it's controlled and quieter, as in "The Communist Daughter" or "Two-Headed Boy Part 2."
I'll also concede that the album has had an impact on the modern indie scene. There are so many imitators trying to achieve this folk/pop song sound, but I don't really think any of them come close. One thing that actually surprised me was how much the horn arrangements reminded me of the newest Beirut EP . Which leads me to a complaint: some of the instruments sound horrible because of the terrible sound quality. Perhaps this was an aesthetic choice, but when I compare "The Fool" to "On A Bayonet", I realize that while both are good, I like Beirut's better, if only because of the cleaner sound. But it's easy to see how Zach Condon was influenced by this album.
But is it worth all the hype? I personally adopt the viewpoint that it's a good album, but not perfect. And perhaps it would be better for one to listen to it not out of desire to see what the hype is all about, but instead to enjoy an album of consistently great songs, with the knowledge that it might not be an easy album to get into. But that's just my opinion. If you disagree you're welcome to leave a comment.
Some months later: I have been listening to it even more, and have gone through different periods of liking different songs. I can see why this album comes up as so many people's favorites--it's diverse enough to find a song for almost any mood, it's full of energy, and while it may sound sloppy at times it's hard to imagine Jeff Mangum recording a better take than any of those featured on this album.
I'm not sure whether I'd call it essential listening if you're a fan of the genre, because that might draw people in with the same expectations I had. Instead, I think this is one of those albums that should be passed on via the recommendation of friends. It seems contradictory to make a widespread impersonal recommendation of an album that affects so many people on a very personal level.
Neutral Milk Hotel
In The Aeroplane Over The Sea
1998
I first tried to make my way through In The "Aeroplane Over The Sea" in high school. Granted at the time I was looking for bands with the same grandiosity as Broken Social Scene and The Arcade Fire, and was disappointed by it.
Flash forward to my freshmen year in college, and I kept reading people reference this album as one of their favorites, and thought I'd give it another try. This time I unfairly dismissed it as overrated sloppy campfire songs—the kind of songs that jerk at the party with the guitar would be playing. (2010 EDIT: I actually met one of those jerks last summer, transcending them from the "oh they probably exist" level to the "oh they unfortunately do exist" level)
A few weeks ago I sat down and tried it again, after listening to the "Everything Is" ep and enjoying it. Has my opinion changed?
I still think the guitar is too campfire-y. But I can forgive that; progressions have been ripped off since the dawn of music by countless imitators in their soulless tunes, but Neutral Milk Hotel do a good job convincing me that these aren't those songs, but instead something unique.
I still think most of the vocals are sloppy. But the melodies are catchy as hell. After repeated listenings many melodies were stuck in my head. I think Jeff Mangum's voice is so much more effective when it's controlled and quieter, as in "The Communist Daughter" or "Two-Headed Boy Part 2."
I'll also concede that the album has had an impact on the modern indie scene. There are so many imitators trying to achieve this folk/pop song sound, but I don't really think any of them come close. One thing that actually surprised me was how much the horn arrangements reminded me of the newest Beirut EP . Which leads me to a complaint: some of the instruments sound horrible because of the terrible sound quality. Perhaps this was an aesthetic choice, but when I compare "The Fool" to "On A Bayonet", I realize that while both are good, I like Beirut's better, if only because of the cleaner sound. But it's easy to see how Zach Condon was influenced by this album.
But is it worth all the hype? I personally adopt the viewpoint that it's a good album, but not perfect. And perhaps it would be better for one to listen to it not out of desire to see what the hype is all about, but instead to enjoy an album of consistently great songs, with the knowledge that it might not be an easy album to get into. But that's just my opinion. If you disagree you're welcome to leave a comment.
Some months later: I have been listening to it even more, and have gone through different periods of liking different songs. I can see why this album comes up as so many people's favorites--it's diverse enough to find a song for almost any mood, it's full of energy, and while it may sound sloppy at times it's hard to imagine Jeff Mangum recording a better take than any of those featured on this album.
I'm not sure whether I'd call it essential listening if you're a fan of the genre, because that might draw people in with the same expectations I had. Instead, I think this is one of those albums that should be passed on via the recommendation of friends. It seems contradictory to make a widespread impersonal recommendation of an album that affects so many people on a very personal level.
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