Going on Record

Barton Hollow - The Civil Wars, 2011

2012-02-13T23:47:00.000-08:00

I am so happy that after last night's Grammy Awards, most of America is now aware of the force that is The Civil Wars. The first time I ever paid this duo (John Paul White and Joy Williams) any attention was while watching So You Think You Can Dance last summer, when a group routine was choreographed to their beautiful "Poison & Wine". Now, I love this show with a passion, and it was a lovely, well-danced routine, but I remember trying to focus on what was happening visually, while being completely wrapped up in what was happening audibly. And actually, looking back I don't think the choreography does the song justice, but you can decide that for yourself, and watch it here:

"Poison & Wine" became their first widely received track, having also had play during a Grey's Anatomy episode - I should really start watching that show just for the exposure to emotion-packed songs by new artists. Soon enough however, I was listening to their whole album, Barton Hollow, and most thankfully, my roommate Beth bought it on vinyl when we got to see them live at The Vogue in November. So, here I am, on my day off on the morning after the Grammys, fully expecting to do a Whitney tribute blog, or maybe finish off the Billy Joel one that's been sitting in my drafts for a week, and all I can think about is The Civil Wars. And apparently I'm not the only one, with Barton Hollow climbing back up to the #5 download on iTunes this morning!

So I slip Side 1 over the post and settle onto my couch, with ears perked up. "20 Years" introduces us to Barton Hollow - a place full of stories - and to what The Civil Wars do best: soft and subtle harmonies over a lullaby-esque picked acoustic guitar. The story is simple yet compelling, speaking of a 20-year-old note on "yellow paper" waiting to be read and responded to. Although this record was made in 2011, I sometimes feel as though Barton Hollow is that old letter slid under my door, and I am unfolding it to discover old secrets and truths of a stranger.

Next is one of the album's few more perky tracks, "I've Got This Friend", which was on regular rotation on my summer playlists this past July and August. Probably my favorite matchmaking song... not that I can think of any others (without including "Matchmaker" from Fiddler on the Roof). Since seeing The Civil Wars perform live, I can't help but picture Joy bouncing along to this song like she does in her heels and knee-length dress.

As I've listened to "C'est La Mort" and "To Whom It May Concern" today, they keep reminding me of two other songs of similar content: Respectively, Bruno Mars' "Grenade" and John Mayer's "Love Song for No One". (If you are unfamiliar with either, the names will link you to youtube vids.) Of course there are several differences in both cases, but I think what truly sets The Civil Wars songs apart is their earnestness, and ability to sound convincing, whether on the subject of a love worth dying for or a non-existent, but yearned for love.

I would say this quality is suspended into their concert performances. Although Joy and John are not a couple, but married to different people, they are able to hold such beauty and tension in their relationship to one another. Their partnership allows them to be so honest in their music, letting them be each other's voices for pain and love in that way. They mean the words they sing, just not about one another. Amazing.

Next comes the enchanting "Poison & Wine", which still causes me to stop nearly any activity in order to digest more fully. The song comes across as a bottle of wine that I want to guzzle, and often once I've listened intently with eyes closed, I feel drunk by the end of it. I kind of wish Side 1 of the vinyl version ended there, but instead "My Father's Father" brings the first half of the record to a close with a sparse and simple song. I feel as though this is the best kind of country music, because all though it is all about telling stories, they never spell it out too much for the listener, leaving plenty of room for us to fill in the blanks with our imagination. How literal or metaphorical is the grandfather's blood on the tracks? It's left for us to decide.

I turn the record over and get picked back up with the album's title track, "Barton Hollow"; the bluesy number that was performed at the Grammy awards. Continuing the trend of subtle stories, Barton Hollow becomes a home that can never be returned to, and is marked by the final line of the chorus: "Can't no preacher man save my soul". This is followed by instrumental "The Violet Hour" on piano, guitar and a little bit of cello, that ends with the piano mimicking a bell tolling. "The Violet Hour" reminds me how instrumentally sparse the whole album really is - the instruments are there to support the vocals, and the default attitude is that less is more. Sometimes a violin will highlight melody or add something a little extra, or a cello will give a foundation for the guitar lick, but for the most part, listening to The Civil Wars is all about lyrics, vocal harmony, and whatever may lend itself to these.

As an example, "The Girl with the Red Balloon" has a very light amount of violin in it; other than in the moments that swell with tension and timbre, the song is sung over guitar chords and the odd cymbal roll. This is also what has the next song, "Falling", always remind me of the music from Marketa Iglova and Glen Hansard from the movie Once. It probably also helps that they have a song with nearly the same title, "Falling Slowly". Joy and John Paul's voices once again are so believably full of experience and desire and pain.

Although I am starting to feel bad about how much I am comparing the songs on this album to other artists and work, I have not mentioned the most obvious, which is Alison Krauss and Robert Plant's collaboration on Raising Sand. There are many comparisons one could draw, but "Forget Me Not" seems like the one song that feels as though it could have been a B Side to "Please Read the Letter". If someone had played me this song a year ago and told me it would be on my stereo on the regular, I would have laughed and made a hostile comment towards country music in general. Alas and alack, I have given in. If this is Country, I am a fan. Lower case f-fan only.

"Birds of a Feather" closes off the vinyl version of Barton Hollow, and continues the theme of channelling Krauss and Plant... can channelling happen to living beings? Oh well. It's fun, though minor, and leaves me wanting more. Altogether, I am amazed that such a sad sounding album could feel so alive and well. It is mostly in minor keys and either whispery-quiet, or desperately-loud, but it is honest and beautiful, and will long live on my future iPods.

Although officially that's the end of the album, the bonus tracks that come with the iTunes download are very worth a mention. The first is a song that nearly knocked me off my seat in concert: a cover of Jackson 5's "I Want You Back". Now, I am the opposite of a fan of covering anything by Michael Jackson, but this is phenomenal, as they recreate it to the point of being nearly unrecognizable. Next is a Leonard Cohen cover (of which I am nearly always a fan) of the song "Dance Me to the End of Love". All this to say, I am a pacifist, but I support keeping The Civil Wars in the top download category by getting their album on iTunes. If you haven't already. And if you still need convincing, you can pick a free download of one of their shows, "Live at Eddie's Attic" right here: http://noisetrade.com/thecivilwars

Congrats Joy and John Paul, on your Grammys and many new fans!

A Rant Turned Tribute

2012-02-03T10:31:00.000-08:00

I have a bone to pick. I can't completely decide who it's with exactly, but contenders include Rolling Stone magazine, music critics in general, and the culture of popular music.

Perhaps you would like a bit of context. Some of you may know by now that I am a bit of a list-o-phile. Usually I like my lists to be specific enough to make sense, but open-ended enough to have to make tough decisions, such as the greatest ______ of a particular genre or time period. But every once in a while I love to spend some time in the vast lists that Rolling Stone enjoys dropping. Recently a coworker and I made a competition out of seeing whose iTunes library included more of their "500 Greatest Songs of All-Time". (By the way, I won the competition, so this is not the response of a bitter loser). The list was not nearly as sweeping as it claimed, completely ignoring anything before 1957 and barely entering our present decade or the one before it. I won't even bother with that list here, but it did get me curious about their similarly titled list of albums, which I quickly found some issues with.

Out of 500 albums spanning from the 1950's to now, and across the genre spectrum from Country to Rap, Soul to Psychadelic Rock, those with female participation in bands or as solo artists make up 13%. If I were to add only those by either solo female artists and bands with front women, it would be below 10% with 45 artists. 45! out of 500! See the whole thing HERE.

Now, I recognize that Rolling Stone magazine is about as sausage-festy as magazines get, but it is also one of the most well-respected publications in popular music, and is, at the moment, the driving force in writing our pop music history. So, is it the fault of listeners and buyers of music that success is only given to male solo artists, or all-male bands? Or, is it the fault of these panels of judges, who write articles and best-of lists, painting our perception of greatness with a brush of testosterone?

And so I'd like to lead you on a scavenger hunt for great albums by female artists that seem to be missing from Rolling Stone's list. Seeing as I have a tendency to specify lists in some way, we'll look at one genre at a time. First of all, is there anything missing from the world of jazz and blues, music that has indeed paved the way for all modern pop music? Miles Davis is there, John Coltrane is there, even Frank Sinatra showed up for the party! Then, surely Ella will make an appearance, even if only alongside Louis Armstrong, and Billie Holiday should be expected at some point with a live recording or a best-of! I dare you to try to find either of their names anywhere. With the possible (but not justified) argument that Ella and Billie were not writing or producing their albums, an even more stark omission is Nina Simone, who wrote music for more than 40 albums in her lifetime, and continues to be constantly quoted, referenced, covered, and sampled all over the place in hiphop and pop.

Those are just the obvious, but in a list of 500 I might also expect to see Mahalia Jackson, one of the greatest gospel voices to hear on vinyl, or Bessie Smith the "Empress of Blues" who inspired all of the above, and who also inspired many blues artists (male and female) who did make the list. I would also implore consideration of Alice Coltrane's Journey in Satchindananda, one of a few jazz records where the front woman is not a vocalist, but a pianist and harpist. Still, it's possible that we know of her by the celebrity of her husband. Newer women of jazz and blues could include Norah Jones, Cassandra Wilson, or Natalie Cole.

R&B/Soul is represented relatively well on this list by the likes of some expected (ie. Aretha, Dusty Springfield's Dusty in Memphis and Diana Ross & The Supremes) and some surprises (ie. TLC, Whitney Houston, and Mary J Blige). I'm not going to lie, I loved the fact that Janet charts with both Rhthym Nation and Velvet Rope. Many additions I would make would have more to do with a need for updating (the list was published in 2003), to include newer records such as Amy Winehouse's Back to Black, Janelle Monae's Archandroid, or nearly anything by Sharon Jones. At this point I might even venture to suggest Beyonce's 4, but are you really surprised? Still, others cannot be excused by time, because 3 years is certainly enough to recognize the force and beauty of Erykah Badu's Mama's Gun, which is nowhere to be found in the 500. Not to mention the mature and smouldering Lover's Rock from british beauty, Sade, that came out the same year. Others that I wouldn't mind seeing on the list might be Roberta Flack's First Take or legendary Killing Me Softly, Gladys Knight's Imagination, something from Jill Scott, or Tina Turner without the abusive Ike on Private Dancer.

I'm sure I could go on, but we'll take a break and move along to Country and Folk. I don't have a lot to say about Country music in general, and when it comes to albums, the few female-made records I would expect are here: collections of Dolly Parton, Patsy Cline, and Lucinda Williams' Car Wheels on a Gravel Road. I do however, notice a lack of certain folk singer-songwriters. Joni Mitchell has some representation with Blue and Court and Spark, but I would add Hejira, For the Roses and maybe Clouds (If Randy Newman can chart with 3 albums, I think Joni Mitchell is entitled to at least one more). The Joans (Baez and Armatrading) are both missing entirely along with two incredibly prolific poets, Ani DiFranco and Kate Bush. They would have been well represented in my opinion by Not a Pretty Girl and Hounds of Love respectively, although they each have many additional album contenders. Tori Amos' Little Earthquakes should probably be included, and maybe her Strange Little Girls as well. As singer-songwriters go, Tori offers not only well-written individual songs, but album contexts that invite us to find relationship between the songs.

Moving on to the genre that Rolling Stone loves most: good old Rock 'n Roll. This genre makes up an overwhelming majority of the list, and is littered with multiple albums of The Beatles (with 11), The Rolling Stones (with 10) and Bruce Springsteen and The Who (with 8 each). I have no problem with classic rock - and I'll freely admit to having a lot of this music, either on vinyl or mp3 - but it becomes overkill when a list so clearly wants to promote one kind of album to greatness, without considering albums that are the products of imagination and a desire to move the culture of pop music in a new direction. It also suggests to me a "golden age" of music (7 of the top 10 are from the 60's), that doesn't consider other influences and movements enough.

That being said, this rant is really only worth writing if it is true that there are indeed women making music as well as men. So who can replace an extraneous 60's or 70's British rock band record? I have a few suggestions.

Patti Smith finds herself in the top 50 (at #44) with Horses, but I would love to also see her more conceptually driven Easter, which fearlessly explores themes of the religious holiday, such as death and resurrection. I was certainly expecting some of my favorite female rockers, especially Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart with Dreamboat Annie. "Crazy on You" was equally snubbed from RS's 500 Greatest Songs, in my opinion, so I suppose we shouldn't be shocked. I found myself scanning for either Pat Benatar or Joan Jett, who may have done more with singles, but so did a lot of men on the list. For some 90's representation, I would have thought Sheryl Crow's Tuesday Night Music Club could hold its own, having won Crow the first 3 of her 9 Grammys.

Annie Lennox shows up for the first and only time on the list at #500, and even then, only with the Eurythmics. I'm not entirely sure what that's about, but wonder if the editors of Rolling Stone have heard album giants Diva and/or Medusa. Medusa is full of great songs written by men, many of which they consider to be "all-time greats". Perhaps they feel threatened that a woman does these tracks so thoughtfully and originally.

Another one-hit-wonder on the list is Bjork, whose accessible Post is at #373, but her brilliant electronic masterpiece, Homogenic is left out. Homogenic is considered by many to be the best of electronic music, yet can't even scrape into the top 500 albums of all time. If this is not an offense to women, it is an offense to the genre. As we've already moved into the world of pop, I can't help but wonder about Mariah. In 2003, did we still love to hate her so much that we couldn't take seriously anything she did in the 90's? If so, it's unfortunate. Say what you want about Mariah, but she has a more impressive range than nearly anyone on the list, and although it's pop, she's writing her own material. All the while in heels and a mini-skirt. Broadway divas such as Barbara Streisand and Judy Garland are also ignored, although each has at least one album that has been recognized by a Grammy.

Finally, let's take a minute to talk about rap music. I will admit, there are not enough women in rap in general. However, there is only one woman recognized: Lauryn Hill at #312 with her Miseducation and #477 on The Fugee's The Score, so even though they chose the best, they keep her above 300. I understand that there is not exactly a plethora of solo female rap artists putting out fantastic albums (and RS was probably patting themselves on the back for including any rap at all), but I seriously hoped for a bit of Missy Elliott, and crossed my fingers for a taste of Salt-n-Pepa. If they revisit the list, I would be floored if they fail to include M.I.A.'s Kala.

This is by no means a comprehensive list of women in music, but I hope it at least it reminds us that women are making music, even if male-critics like those at Rolling Stone don't seem to recognize it. In the mean time, check out some of the artists I've mentioned. I made it easy to get started: all the pictures (and some of the words) link to performances on youtube.

Peace out,

Danice

The Score - The Fugees, 1996

2012-01-17T20:45:00.000-08:00

As I continue to reflect on the past year, I love to remember great concerts. I had the great privilege of seeing the magnificent Ms. Hill at the Commodore – it may no longer have bouncy floors, but it’s still my favorite Vancouver venue - last spring. The best surprise of the night – after discovering it was her birthday and having the crowd burst into song for her – was L. Boogie’s presentation of material from The Score. She did a total of 5 songs from the album and owned everything. Regardless of whether verses were originally spat by Wyclef or Pras, she would authoritatively rap every bit of the song at nearly double speed. The songs lost some of their groove this way – the familiar rap felt a little less melodic than I was used to - and yet it had a new kind of forceful power.

Anyway, this is not a concert blog, but seeing Lauryn Hill in 2011 brought her work with Fugees back into my regular playlists over the past several months, and most recently I even made The Score my alarm CD to wake up to. At Lauryn's show, I was reminded not only how deeply Miseducation shaped and spoke to my adolescent self, but how her role in the Fugees introduced me a world of socially conscious rap. Not that I would have called it that in Jr. High, but even in 1996 I could tell The Score was different than Snoop’s Doggy Style.

Suprisingly, it was never Lauryn alone that made The Fugees attractive to a 13 year old white girl from the burbs. Wyclef Jean allows his sense of humor shine through even the most serious verse, giving a sense of playfulness in “Fu-Gee-La” especially. Pras sounds like a man with a lot of anger, but is too stoned to do anything about it. Together they made a loveable trio, who though clearly intelligent, never lost their ability to have a good time. When I bought the album, I had only heard the two radio-played covers: “Killing Me Softly” and “No Woman No Cry”. Although hearing Ms. Hill sing the Roberta Flack tune would alter whatever actions I had been in the middle of, it was Wyclef’s guitar and vocals on the Bob Marley cover that drew the money out of my pocket.

At the time, I didn’t know much about these refugees (other than having loved Lauryn Hill's performance in Sister Act II), but soon the first half of the album would open up my understanding of what music could be. “How Many Mics”, “Ready Or Not”, and “Zealots” quickly became my favorite 13ish minutes. To this day, I love how the three MCs share the songs; No one gets more mic time than anyone else, even though there are admittedly “too many MC’s, not enough mics”. References are thick and plenty, whether it’s to Marcus Garvey or Corey Hart, and rhymes are effortlessly smooth. Choruses are crooned, and I momentarily forget that this isn’t a classic R&B album. Momentarily until “Ready or Not” reminds us, which is home to my favorite Lauryn line ever: “So while you imitating Al Capone, I’ll be Nina Simone and defecating on your microphone.” Ok, one of my favorites. She’s got a lot (oh yeah). ;)

It took me some time to appreciate “The Beast”, even though I loved to imitate the beastly-noises that Wyclef makes. I don't think, at the time, that I picked up on the comic-feel of this song, even though it's constantly referencing super heroes and sci-fi characters. Now when I listen to this frustration rant against greed and corruption in government and policing.

Like Miseducation, most songs on The Score are punctuated by spoken scenes emphasizing the down-to-earth style of the Fugees. "The Beast" is followed by possibly the oddest and funniest sketch, set in a Chinese restaurant that is "like burger king, have it your way".

At a younger age, both “The Mask” and “Cowboys” always felt awkward to me. “The Mask” is one of my favorites now because it is positively brilliant, showing off the Fugees ability to use extended metaphor. Cowboys is also an example of this, although lacking in groove. “Cowboys” allows the three MCs to have some fun with the plethora of Western clichés and cowboy media references. It’s a bringing together of Reggae and Country in a way that I can stomach, and on top of it, critiquing drug culture. Fave line: “F*** the Sheriff, I shot John Wayne”. LOVE it.

Fu-Gee-Las (the original and the three remixes provided) never get old to me. Sometimes I'll plan to skip one of the versions, but it’s hard – they’re each unique enough to require a listen. Actually, I take that back. Now that I’m listening through it all again, I know the Sly & Robbie mix the least. I think I would tend to listen to the first Refugee Camp Remix and than skip ahead to “Mista Mista”, which is eerily beautiful. When I was younger I thought it was a joke – every time Wyclef answers himself with “Hell No Mutha*****”, it would tickle my funnybone. Now I hear it as a musical conversation that can be seen on a regular basis in my neighborhood, and the questions so many of us in any city have to ask ourselves: when do we help those we see in need, and what is helping? Money? Food? A fix to forget?

Finally, they end on a happy note, with the last Fu-Gee-La remix. It's possible that 4 versions of the same song on a full length album is overkill, but at least it's a good, catchy song. Or maybe we should just consider ourselves lucky that in The Score you received both an LP and a single. Either way, it's not worth a complaint. If you're not sick of it yet, you should probably watch this video.

Earlier I mentioned that all 3 Fugees share the microphone well. Still, I can’t help but notice that Ms. Hill is already hitting the hardest. And she gets away with some of the best words. I mean, Poli-trick-cians? And rhyming galaxy with phalaxy? Awesome, right? She is a phenomenon, and high on my list of hopes for 2012/beyond is a full comeback for this talented woman we grew to love, respect, and groove to. Until then, I'll keep returning to The Score, far more than other rap albums from the mid-90's, most of which was about hating on MC peers, at the height of the East-West tensions (Tupac died later that year). While the majority of the rap world was focused on destruction and self-promotion, The Fugees attempted to spit some positivity and call out the larger systems to blame, rather than simply slamming their own competition. And when they did address their peers in rap, they called them to maturity instead of violence. Sounds like something worth listening to, both now and then.

Undun - The Roots, 2011

2012-01-12T21:17:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to go back a little and give you reason to pull an older slightly-neglected album off the shelves again, but new music has been so good lately! Undun is the record I can't get enough of right now, and I want to offer it up as an alternative to Kanye's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy as an album that attempts to push rap music in a new direction. The Roots, however, are able to do so far more narratively and positively on Undun, which focuses on a man - Redford Stevens - who dies at the beginning of the album, and everything we hear after that looks back to what led up to that particular moment. And that's about as much pre-amble as I want to give you, because something tells me Undun is the kind of thing that we'll enjoy as we discover new things each time we listen.

The first thing I notice, before I even hit play, is the album art depicting a kid "flipping in the ghetto on a dirty mattress" as Lauryn Hill so eloquently describes. Like any great rap album, Undun is full of reference, even in its few, but intentional visuals. The first track, "Dun", builds (or fades out backwards-ly) sonically toward the first full song, "Sleep": stunning in its short and slow depiction of Redford looking on his own death through incredibly poetic rap. Similarly, "Make My" is Redford's coming to terms with his near-approaching life's end. This song is so beautiful, and strikes me as brutally honest in its ability to realistically capture someone's final song or word. As conceptual as Undun is, I can't get over how catchy the music is throughout. The Roots are relatively un-rivalled in the arena of instrumental hip-hop (heck, they created it), and prove they are still on top. The bass line from "Make My"slips and slides around everywhere, and "One Time" is driven forward by percussive piano chords that, although with a low bpm, force physical movement out of its listener.

"Kool On" introduces a completely different beat with one of the slickest transitions I can remember - and it's just a fade in! And let's face it, using an old-school vocal line as a rhythmic beat is so awesome right now, whether it's on Watch the Throne or not. This and the next, "The OtherSide" is the closest track to a dance groove that you'll find on the album, but they are not really for dancing at all since they are gritty looks at a life of chasing drugs and money. Greg Porn has some of the most direct and simple phrases, like "I'm on the edge of my bed making love to my meds".

I keep thinking that the worst must be over; Redford is dead, so eventually we'll get to some happy memories, right? On the contrary, it seems like his death is the most peaceful moment on the album, and "Stomp" definitely intensifies things, and gets the physicality of life, viscerally describing "blood sweat and tears, broken teeth and spit". "Lighthouse" continues that theme as guest rapper Dice Raw asks us to "take a look at my lungs and my liver - it's disgusting". Again, the rawness of the story is never abandoned in the midst of thoughtful and catchy hooks that can be played anywhere. I have cooked and cleaned and just chilled out to this record, and it all works.

"I Remember" suggests that Redford never really had a chance, drawing "a two from the deck" and continues to be fairly aware that death is not too far off. "Tip the Scale" is the last track that gives us any lyrics, and I suppose it can be seen as the beginning of the end in multiple ways. It reveals either a real or felt decision he is making between a friend's life and his own. Knowing the end outcome gives this song even more dramatic weight. And we are left to contemplate the short life of a thug over Sufjan Stevens' "Redford (for Yia Yia & Pappou)", and its 3 variations in the form of movements. Each take a very different approach while holding a recognizable piece of Sufjan's original: "Possibility" is high and dream-like, "Will to Power" is is dark and jazzy, and ends with chaotic chordal clusters, and finally "Finality" feels much like a string quartet at a funeral, yet ends with a low hammer on the piano.

Undun allowed us to peer into a common character's last bits of life, but Redford's stereotypical thug-like behaviour never distracted me from his humanity. Nothing about this album felt like every other rap about money, drugs, sex, and death. It was neither braggy nor preachy, yet honestly looked at nothing less than the meaning of life, and I'm left wanting to have another listen. Don't mind if I do...

4 - Beyonce, 2011

2012-01-02T15:03:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite things to do around the new year is reflect on the finishing year by reading lists and making some of my own. There are a number of artists that have shaped my 2011 with new and newly discovered albums - Bon Iver, Florence, Adele, Josh Garrels - but I've decided to talk about Beyonce's 4, because I doubt I will ever be inspired to write about any of her other albums, past or future. And I cannot stop listening to it.

Who would have expected this? A chock-full collection of hit after hit, that somehow sound even better together, from a woman who has built her career on singles and music videos. Beyonce has never been what I've considered great at the art of album, but 4 is an incredibly happy exception.

"1+1" reintroduces Beyonce to us as a sexy balladess with clear control on her vocal range. Before we dance, we are asked to remember that she is not only a beautiful, engaging performer, but a vocal contender as well. "I Care" and "Miss You" are best paired together, both using 80's instrumentation to recall a classic pop-r&b fusion, and both wrestling with relationships either on their way out or regretfully finished. Come to think of it, "Best Thing I Never Had" is a part of the series too - but adds some real Beyonce attitude. Sure it's a pithy chorus, but Beyonce's never been hailed as a lyricist anyway, and it's a great song to sing at the top of your lungs in the car. Try it sometime.

By now, we've remembered what Beyonce is capable of, but we're not sure if she's still really got the power to start the party. By the time I listened to 4 in it's entirety I had already seen the video for the last track, "Run the World (Girls)", and was at best disappointed. Was that going to be the strongest dance song on the album? Certainly not. And this is where the party begins, appropriately with "Party", which brings along with it Andre 3000 and Kanye, and a sample of La-Di-Da-Di. It's a massive summer party track, but was unfortunately released a little too late to get the attention it deserves.

There's always one song I don't love, and on 4 it's "Rather Die Young", which feels inauthentic and silly, referencing a bad boy who is worth all the trouble. Beyonce is getting too old for that, and I find "Start Over" to be far more believable as she searches to reignite a spark with a long-term partner.

"Love on Top" is a throwback to past divas such as Whitney of the 80's and even Diana of the 60's, as she once again shows what she can do, this time in 6 key changes. It was the perfect song to let the world know of her anticipated Knowles-Carter child in this pop-historic VMAs performance. You should probably watch it here if you haven't yet:

The party refuses to stop as Beyonce uses a counting down sample from Boyz II Men (good move B) to "Countdown" which is one of the most eclectic songs that doesn't sound scattered ever made in the r&b world. The video is nearly perfect as it mirrors this collage of a song, with great dance moves and even greater outfits. If you haven't seen it, you should probably watch it here:

THEN, "End of Time" comes on, with its massive horn shots and epic marching beat. This for me is the highlight of the album. By now I am sold on B, and all that is left to do is shake whatever your mother gave you, regardless of how it compares to what Beyonce received from her mother.

"I Was Here" slows everything down again with the track that will likely be played at Beyonce's funeral. Written by legendary love song writer Diane Warren, it might be a little melodramatic for my taste, but every diva needs to plan ahead for a memorial or life-time achievement award.

The album ends with "Run the World", which actually has an incredible beat and similar energy levels to "End of Time", but falls flat when compared to other girl-power/feminist anthems like Destiny's Child's earlier "Independent Women". The video has some amazing dancing, but it mostly frustrates me by what it could've been. Still, considering this post has been video heavy, I might as well conclude one last performance that almost convinced me of this song:

When I think of 2011, I will undoubtedly think of Beyonce's 4. What will you think of?

My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy - Kanye West, 2010

2011-12-08T17:10:00.001-08:00

*Note: I wrote this blog draft back in November and forgot to finish/post it! Better late than never...

I have been thinking about Kanye West quite a bit lately. Perhaps because of my favorite November game - attempting to predict the Grammy nominations - and now that they have been announced, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy has become the most talked about album, not only because of the nominations it has received, but also those it has evaded (namely, Album of the Year).

What do I like about Kanye's Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy? Well, to begin with, it's a great title. The album not only embodies each descriptor, but holds them in tension with one another. The fantasy often leaves us (and Kanye himself) wondering if he's bat-poop crazy, yet always in awe of the demented beauty in his stories and sounds. And sights too, if we've watched "Runaway", the accompanying short film that makes use of all but 4 of MBDFT's songs.

But for now, this is a post about the listening experience, and the album begins with Nicki Minaj quoting(ish) from Roald Dahl's "Revolting Rhymes", setting MBDTF up as one of those classic, twisted nursery rhymes that we routinely censor and disney-fy. Not that I think we try to child-proof Kanye, but perhaps it's on this album where he most deeply attempts to come to terms with the person that he feels he truly is, with the person of his celebrity. "Dark Fantasy" kicks off the album with an almost Moby-esque repeated line over piano chords, long before he funnels to the center of his psyche, peaking at "Monster" and then spirals back along a slightly different path, getting "Lost in the Woods" along the way, and finally wondering who can survive America - perhaps the source of his insanity.

Kanye can't help but offend most people at some point. He certainly would like to. But I appreciate that the shock is rarely for shock value alone; He actually has some really great motivations. The song that is getting the most Grammy attention, "All of the Lights", is epically full of everything: guest appearances, horns, catchy hooks, and an anthemic sense of greatness. At face value, the song is about Kanye walking in on his girlfriend cheating with someone else, and him wanting to reveal the truth with the brightest lights possible. It may seem hypocritical if he weren't starkly honest with his own imperfections on tracks like "Runaway" and "The Blame Game". The whole album is really a call for turning on the lights - to quit hiding what we're not proud of.

I am finding it difficult to write about Kanye's Fantasy in a linear fashion, and I wonder if the songs simply aren't meant to interact with one another that way. We are meant to think of "All of the Lights" during "Hell of Life", and we are meant to hear "Gorgeous" echoing in our mind when listening to "The Blame Game". Kanye has provided transitions with intentionality and artistry that is hard to beat - it seems he is following a true and free flow of his own thoughts. The songs and themes feed into one another. Together the songs work at getting to the bottom of what makes Kanye West tick: they explore a mourning of his two greatest role models (his mother and MJ), his experience of celebrity, and his incredibly dysfunctional relationships with all female creatures; They bring some of the best and most eclectic artists in the business together, from Bon Iver to John Legend, to create something even better than Kanye could do by himself (GASP!?); They creatively combine all the things Kanye has done best on his previous 4 albums: the raw, catchy hooks of College Dropout and Late Registration, the dark and epic sense from Graduation, and the experimentation of 808's and Heartbreak. And I know I could say that he has done all of these things more successfully together on My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy.

Let's rewind to some of the stand-out moments on the album. Because it was leaked early, many of us heard "Power" before anything else, and while it sounds like a political question, there is something personal about it as well. What is the power we have handed over to Kanye himself, or any one person for that matter, why do we do it, and does anyone deserve it? Meanwhile, KWest is not about to let go of any he finds. Even when he offers a confession of sorts in "Runaway", we know it is a backhanded apology, as it proves that none of us are actually ready to run away from him. He knows he deserves to be dropped, but lets us know on an addictive beat and catchy hook.

Recently for my birthday I was given Blood Bank, The Bon Iver EP from which "Lost in the World" gets its foundation (the song "Woods"). I keep listening to this song, trying to imagine Kanye hearing it and thinking, "I can make that even better". In its own right, it is hauntingly beautiful. And although I know several haters (or Indie purists?) who will vehemently disagree with me on this, but there is something that Kanye really does add to this track. He seems to have made it his own, and although very different from Bon Iver stylistically, both artists seem to deeply wrestle with and understand the concept of lost in a deep way. For me, "Lost in the World" holds its own more than any other track on the album, and yet every song is given context within this bizarrely personal and introspective Kanye collection. Whatever you think of this egotistically, self-proclaimed workaholic jerk-off, MBDTF is an honest look at a complicated man that at its best calls us to question our own motives and behaviour, and at its worst sounds good. Sounds like a grammy-contender to me.

Lungs - Florence + The Machine, 2009

2011-11-07T15:58:00.000-08:00

I have begun to write this particular blog so many times that finally an incentive occured to me. Last night I went out and bought F+tM's new record, Ceremonials, and I am allowing myself to listen to it only once I've finally published this. So you can be guaranteed what I'll be up to for the hour following this post. I'm pretty stoked.

I think my problem has been that I have attempted to listen to Lungs (with the intention of blogging) on several trips, and by the time I arrive at my destination I have no time to actually do something with my thoughts. This has happened on 4 separate occasions, and I am left to at least notice that this is a great album to travel with. It sounds especially great when you are alone and the volume is up, so that you can sing along loudly whether or not you know the lyrics; it just makes us want to yell.

Dog Days Are Over is one of those songs that has been impossible to avoid, not that I've bothered to try. The hopeful anthem is rather perfect for drama of all kinds, being pushed forward by action, excitement, and fantasy. The first track wisely asks us to let go and set our sights on the good that's coming, and sets the tone for the rest of the album both instrumentally - with plucked harp and heavy drums - and atmospherically.

"Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)" continues with a similar sense of freedom. It's hard to picture anything other than some beautiful Stevie Nick-ian woman running through an enchanted forest. Spiritual-mythological themes are introduced, causing many to describe Lungs as Goth-pop as she uses fantasy lit imagery to invite us into her world and question it with her. In turn, we are also invited to question the things we know of our own world.

"I'm Not Calling You a Liar" is so stunning and always makes me think of the Ani lyrics that compare liars with alcoholics, asking, "Has he changed?... Or is he just a liar with nothing to lie about?" By the time "Howl" hits the course, I am seriously wondering how one woman can carry the energy of so far 4 phenomenal tracks in a row on one album. I know recording isn't that simple, but I am almost exhausted just from pretending to Florence; what must it be like to have such ideas and passion that exudes itself all over this record?

Now for something a little different. "Kiss With a Fist" was my first Florence song, so I have a soft spot for it. Even though this song feels more similar to contemporaries like Lily Allen or Kate Nash in its playfulness and violence, Florence hits this genre harder, and shows off her ability to just plain rock out. And right before slowing down and giving us the bluesy, and morbid ballad, "Girl With One Eye"; one of the many tracks that reminds me of Annie Lennox in her uniquely powerful, story-telling voice.

"Drumming Song" "Between Two Lungs, "Cosmic Love" come as a triplet, acting as not only the middle section of the album, but the mysterious center of the setting we've been drawn into. The first and last are two of my favorite songs to blast in the car and drum along to, and all three give a context for the album title as they explore the physical and visceral of life and death, love and purpose. Life and death continue to be contemplated even more explicitly in "My Boy Builds Coffins".

"Hurricane Drunk", though still thematically dark has a lighter tone and sounds the most like a pop song so far. I get a little annoyed when this song fades out, but when "Blinding" sets in I forgive and forget, as the softer song builds. I really can't believe that this album is able to sound so cohesive and consistent in tone and setting, and yet I still can't say I've had enough. I am still stoked to rip open the new album and listen to more of the same! But before I need to do that, Florence presents me with one of my all time favorite covers of "You've Got the Love". The album finishes, but my time with Florence does not. If you loved the last track as well, it was remixed by the genius Jamie from The XX. Listen to it here.

The Final Video Stars: Art Films

2011-10-10T21:29:00.000-07:00

I suppose I should have warned you that there would be a catch-all category. Music videos - because of primarily their length - can get away with doing something entirely conceptual, without clear plot or emotion, but still something freaking cool to look at. Some of these videos still draw us in using character or idea, but generally there was no other genre that they naturally fit into. Because of their un-film like way of using the music video medium, this category turns out some of the most memorable videos of all time. Let's get to them.

10. Doo Wop (That Thing) - Lauryn Hill, 1998. Directed by Big TV!

If you've been following this Video Stars series, you may have noticed a theme of musicians making multiple appearances in their own video. Here we are again with Lauryn Hill showing us the best use of the split screen in music video history. The video is a perfect mirror of the song itself which marries doo-wop of the 50's to hip hop of the 90's. And to be honest, it becomes visual proof that the only thing better than one L-Boogie is two.

9. Hardest Button to Button - The White Stripes, 2003. Directed by Michel Gondry.

Although the concept itself is simple, I can only imagine the amount of labour would have been necessary to create this stop-motion classic; dragging numerous drum sets all over the place. To be exact: 32 Ludwig sets, 32 amps, and 16 mic stands, which when added together equal pure awesome-sauce.

8. Buddy Holly - Weezer, 1994. Directed by Spike Jonze.

Set within Arnold's restaurant of Happy Days, Weezer - a 90's band paying homage to a '50's rock legend - are cut seamlessly into an episode of a 1970's show that pays homage to the decade from which Buddy Holly comes. Brilliant and believable, Spike Jonze makes yet another outstanding video.

7. Pursuit of Happiness - Kid Cudi, 2009. Directed by Megaforce.

Megaforce is able to capture a surprising, gravity-defying world where Kid Cudi is either dreaming or stoned out of his mind. Or perhaps both. That could also be the reason he chose a terrible mainstream version as the official video instead of this masterpiece.

6. Crazy - Gnarls Barkley, 2006. Directed by Robert Hales.

What does it say about you if you keep seeing Cee-Lo Green in your inkblot tests? I think you're crazy... actually it's more likely that you are watching this video for Crazy that finds a visual concept that questions the viewer's mental state. Bryan Louie gets the nod for all the inkblot art design that is best described as mesmerizing.

5. Islands - The XX, 2010. Directed by Saam Farahmand.

I am pretty late to The XX fanclub - I've only started listening to them after discovering Jamie's awesome remixes of Adele and Florence + the Machine - but this video is absolutely worth your attention. At first you think it's the biggest cop out ever, but then you notice details, and how brilliantly it expresses the singer's need for freedom from convention and routine. And then you watch it again.

4. Cry - Godley & Creme, 1985. Directed by Godley & Creme.

We all thought MJ's "Black or White" was brilliant for the seamless morphing of faces, but this one-hit-wonder did it first, and for 1985 it was pretty darn good. Although sometimes a bit creepy, the up close faces are able to elicit sympathy as they sing about tears.

3. Let Forever Be - Chemical Brothers, 1999. Directed by Michel Gondry.

One woman's reaccuring nightmare becomes another's entertaining music video, with this magical illusion that juxtaposes crisp kaleidoscopesque images with effect-less handheld film, and as Gondry loves to do, makes us feel like we are watching one continuous shot. When I'm not thinking "this would be so fun to shoot", I'm thinking "how did he do that!?"

2. Drop - The Pharcyde, 1995. Directed by Spike Jonze.

An early and stunning use of backwards filming. Sure Chris Martin did it, but he wasn't rapping! These guys pull off all of the best backwards tricks, including graffiti, dressing themselves, realistic swagger, and pouring water. Not necessarily in that order. And although many more have attempted to follow in The Pharcyde's footprints, they will forever need to fight to be more than a mere reference to Spike Jonze's mastery of the technique.

1. Street Spirit (Fade Out) - Radiohead, 1995. Directed by Jonathan Glazer.

At first glance this video didn't quite register when I watched it out of the corner of my eye. But soon enough I was sucked into the beauty of these juxtaposed ideas that defy the laws of time. The song is almost meditative, and the video lends itself to that as the black and white film exaggerates the play of light and shadow across Thom's face. I notice something new everytime I watch it, and would likely rank this with the best of the best music videos of all time.

The Video Stars: DANCE Vids

2011-09-28T15:41:00.000-07:00

I have been waiting and waiting for this. I still have one more category to go after today, but I have been anticipating this particular group of ten videos more than any others. Here are the top 10 dance music videos of all time:

10. Runaway - Kanye West, 2010. Directed by Fredrico Fellini & Stanley Kubrick.

Why yes, I am one of those who think Kanye will get the Grammy nod this year for My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, but that's not the point. This video is strikingly beautiful in its juxtoposition of ballet dancers, warehouse setting, and Kanye's rap, yet everything works more than anything the rest of us could have imagined. By far the most noteworthy excerpt from the full-length film. If you do still want to watch the whole thing, you can watch it here.

9. Like a Boy - Ciara, 2006. Directed by Diane Martel.

The choreography is great, but that's not even why it's here. Sure, Ciara isn't the only woman to ever try to use a music video to question gender roles, but here she plays both parts incredibly well, always looks super fly, and shows off her moves, which are as smooth as ever in this vid. I think we also get a kick out of watching Ciara grab her crotch and kiss her biceps.

8. Vogue - Madonna, 1990. Directed by David Fincher.

Perhaps I should have warned you, there is something about a black and white dance video, because this is clearly not the first and certainly won't be the last. The dance in this video is subtle, because Vogue is all about the relationship between style, grace, and attitude. But it is indeed a dance, and has inspired many partiers throughout the following decades to "strike a pose" whenever the moment deems it appropriate.

7. Alright - Janet Jackson, 1990. Directed by Julien Temple.

In the style of a 50's musical, we get to watch Janet have fun dancing around an old-school New York in a pinstripe suit. Madonna got to do Dick Tracy that year, and perhaps Janet got jealous and made this video? I dunno, but "Alright" is proving to stand the test of time, and even being referenced by other younger dancers like Usher (at 1:35 in this Janet tribute) and Chris Brown in Yeah 3x.

6. Tightrope - Janelle Monae, 2010. Directed by Wendy Morgan.

Perhaps I should have also warned you of the number of women in suits that appear on this list! Janelle Monae (if you don't know her, here's a blog I posted earlier this year) is a genius, and her feet are full of magic. As for the video, it has a great story, the production is perfect, and it makes us want to dance just like Janelle Monae, although most of us can't because of my previous sentence.

5. Party Rock Anthem - LMFAO, 2011. Directed by Mickey Finnegan.

I'm positive this is the only video from this year I'll have in any of my lists. I've hummed and hawed over it; how can we possibly know if this will stand the test of time? I guess we can't, and at the rate that many of us are watching it, there will likely come a time when we are so sick of shuffling. However, I'm not there yet, and this video has a hilarious concept, and some truly great hipster dancing... which until PRA, I had thought was an oxymoron.

4. Lose Control - Missy Elliott feat. Ciara & Fat Man Scoop, 2005. Directed by Dave Meyers.

This video reminds me of reminds me of a video game the way it finds itself in 5 distinct settings as if they are levels to achieve. Each one is full of stark and surprising visuals that incorporate some truly phenomenal dancing. Besides, even in real life the combination of Missy and Ciara is one of my faves to dance to!

3. Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It) - Beyonce, 2008. Directed by Jake Nava.

This has become the "R.E.S.P.E.C.T." of music videos; it is one of the most parodied videos of late; although attempted by many the dance is actually really difficult; and the whole thing - although Beyonce and her dancers are scantily clad - comes off as incredibly classy. It's because of this that "Single Ladies" has been elevated to legendary status.

2. Smooth Criminal - Michael Jackson, 1986. Directed by Colin Chilvers.

Although we don't understand what's going on (even in the context of Moonwalker - the film for which Smooth Criminal is the climax) we can't help but be sucked in to the general action of gangsters in a nightclub. Not only is it full of drama and intrigue and costume and swagger, but the quintessential Jackson moves that, for most of us, define our pop King.

1. Rhythm Nation - Janet Jackson, 1989. Directed by Dominic Sena.

The only person in the world that could beat MJ in a music video contest is his sister. Choreographed by Anthony Thomas (who also choreographed "Alright") this video uses a harsh militant routine that fits with the song and setting of an abandoned warehouse, and shows off Janet dancing unlike she ever has before (or after for that matter). With the very short exception of some solo dance moments, the group is always dancing together in tight formation to a street style that seems as though it musically and physically demonstrates what a true rhythm nation could be. Or perhaps it's just a lot of fun to dress up and look tough. Either way, I'm sold. Although it sounds crazy cheesy, and I know nostalgia is probably working against me, this video still has the power to inspire hope and desire for a better world. If you could stomach more of me praising JJ's Rhythm Nation, here's my blog devoted to the whole album.

Happy Dancing!

PS. I can't not mention the runner up for this list, because it was so hard to leave out. Another video by Wendy Morgan, this time for Gnarles Barkley's "Going On". Check it out if you have time and space to move in your seat. My other difficult choices in case you're interested, were MJ's Bad and Daft Punk's Around the World.

The Video Stars: Animated Edition

2011-09-20T15:55:00.000-07:00

I am hardly an expert on animation, but these are the 10 that stand out as music videos using the medium creatively and fittingly:

10. Tonight, Tonight - Smashing Pumpkins, 1996. Directed by Jonathan Dayton & Valerie Faris.

The dreamy imagery in this video is inspired by the album cover art of Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness and turn of the century silent films. I feel like I'm reading a storybook where the pictures are coming to life.

9. I Miss You - Bjork, 1995. Directed by John Kricfalusi.

Directed and animated by the creator of Ren and Stimpy, we see Bjork as a cartoon sex-symbol. And believe it or not, it gets even stranger and stranger from there. Don't say I didn't warn you.

8. D.A.N.C.E. - Justice, 2007. Directed by Jonas & Francois.

Such a simple concept, but I cannot for the life of me figure out how they do this so smoothly. The t-shirt designs are fun, hilarious, colourful, and keep our attention throughout the whole video.

7. Float On - Modest Mouse, 2004. Directed by Christopher Mills.

This video is complete with stop-motion sheep heading towards their unfortunate destiny. This song is awesome on it's own, but it certainly doesn't hurt to have a video you can't take your eyes off of.

6. Fell In Love With a Girl - White Stripes, 2002. Directed by Michel Gondry.

I would argue that LEGO is to this day the best toy ever invented, and here the brilliant Gondry uses it as one of the best stop-motion tools ever. This video makes me want to listen to the White Stripes all day while playing LEGO.

5. Flood Pt. 1 - The Acorn, 2008. Directed by Christopher Mills.

Although not as popular as Mills' "Float On", there is something so stunning about not only the style, but also the musicality. Everything is to the beat, and yet it doesn't feel over-emphasized. The characters, though only 2 dimentional drawings, are so compelling. Everything seems just right - I almost wish the song was written for the video instead of vice versa.

4. Do The Evolution - Pearl Jam, 1998. Directed by Kevin Altieri and Todd McFarlane.

A comic rendition of a not exactly sugar coated human history set to the ironic lyrics of "Do The Evolution". Somehow this one video is able to touch on nearly every tragedy and issue ever referenced by nearly any other video. Pearl Jam don't make a lot of videos, but when they do, you can trust that they'll go all out.

3. One More Time - Daft Punk, 2003. Directed by Leiji Matsumoto.

This is here less based on the one video, and more as a representation of the film from which it comes - Interstella 5555 - the anime that goes along with Daft Punk's album Discovery. "One More Time" is my favorite, and kicks off the film by introducing us to it's main characters - the band, The Crecsendolls. The other highlight for me is "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger".

2. Sledgehammer - Peter Gabriel, 1986. Directed by Stephen R. Johnson & Adam Whittaker.

Although not the first video to ever use this kind of animation, thanks to Nick Park it was the first to use it so well. Sledgehammer continues to be a marker for all videos that use stop-motion animation and holds the record for video to be most played on MTV ever, proving that it continues to translate 25 years later.

1. Take On Me - A-ha, 1985. Directed by Steve Barron.

Not only is the animation incredible (transitions between live action and drawings are seemless), but the story is uber 80s romantic. I mean, this video caused numerous women around the world to fall in love with a line drawing. Unfortunately the lead singer Morton Harket is far more appealing as a cartoon than the live action version of himself. Still, the combination of story and the use of brilliant graphics make for an absolutely legendary video.

The Video Stars: Science Fiction Music Videos

2011-09-08T16:44:00.000-07:00

Sci-Fi tends to be a popular genre for music videos, possibly because it's far easier to draw attention in a short amount of time, focusing on using special effects rather than storyline to convey an idea. I had the most difficult time yet in narrowing these down to only 10. So don't judge me too much if a favorite isn't here. Also, don't expect Thriller or anything else that appears in another list - I'm only considering any music video in one particular category.

10. Can You Feel It - Jackson 5, 1980. Directed by Bruce Gowers and Robert Abel.

I think in the end I couldn't not add this video, if for no other reason than it gives us historical context for MJ's relationship to music videos. For 1980, the visuals here are over the top and in our face, setting the standard early for Michael, and giving him a strong sense of relationship between song and video before many others ever did.

9. Home - LCD Soundsystem, 2010. Directed by Rick Darge.

Not so much the effects, but the plot in this one draws me in, as a robot tries to party all night with the local hipsters. I am pleasantly surprised with how easily I sympathize with this wordless and generally unimpressive robot.

8. California Love - 2Pac feat. Dr. Dre & Roger Troutman, 1996. Directed by Hype Williams.

A classic post-apocalyptic America set in 2095, where California
still knows how to party better than anyone. I'm not sure why they bothered to make a second video, but they did, so make sure you click the pic and watch the right one.

7. In This World/In My Heart - Moby, 2002. Directed by Stylewar.

Right up there next to E.T. and Wall-E, these are some of the most loveable aliens on film. Beautiful, emotional, and importantly for this particular top 10 list, Sci-fi.

6. Virtual Insanity - Jamiroquai, 1996. Directed by Jonathan Glazer.

I suppose this is supposed to be on another planet, although this is never explicit. Still, I would love to travel there one day. Jamiroquai put themselves on the pop map with not only this song, but this powerful visual to conect it with.

5. Sock it to Me - Missy Elliott, 1997. Directed by Hype Williams.

Missy is stylistically carving out an entire culture for herself in 1997 with this and Supa Dupa fly (with the help of Hype Williams' fisheye lens and Timbaland's beats). Here she takes inspiration the Mega Man music videos and creates some visual fun to go along with her audio good times. On another note, I wonder whatever happened to Da Brat's helmet... I would look boss in that thing.

4. Rockit - Herbie Hancock, 1983. Directed by Godley & Creme.

A lot is going on, not only in this video, but in music history. Here, Hancock is building a bridge between pop and jazz in an important way, and although it is moving towards the future, it still looks a little raw like the robotics in this vid.

3. Scream - Michael & Janet Jackson, 1995. Directed by Mark Romanek.

When I first heard about this video I was 13 years old, and I remember thinking, "Finally Michael and Janet together". And to this day when I watch it, although it's hard not to notice the amount of effort and money that went into this video, what gives it an unmatched charisma is the duo involved. Janet looks as boss as ever, and both of them are bound by both love and anger.

2. Intergallactic - Beastie Boys, 1998. Directed by Nathaniel Hornblower (aka: MCA of the Beastie Boys).

Parodies bode well for these boys, while Sabotage worked off of Crime TV, Intergallactic bows to Japanese monster movies. And what can I say, I am quickly acknowledging my soft spot for a dancing robot.

1. All is Full of Love - Bjork, 1999. Directed by Chris Cunningham.

Slightly eerie, incredibly beautiful, and impossible not to watch. An appropriate video of robotic love to a song composed entirely from "sounds inspired by machines" according to Bjork. With both sound and film, Bjork shows us how sexy machines can be. Who knew?

The Video Stars: High School Music Videos

2011-09-01T21:35:00.000-07:00

Ok fine, this is probably my most debatable category in this series. Like in the world of High School movies many are duds but a few gems keep the genre alive, and as far as I'm concerned, that's enough for a top 10 list. And oh look, here's one now!

10. Whip My Hair - Willow, 2010. Directed by Ray Kay.

This one surprised me slightly, but in the end it made the cut, simply for being cute and kid-friendly without making my lip curl like say, Lil' Mama did. Willow has the attitude and spark of her mother, and the charisma and ears of her daddy - how could you not love that? The colours and hair are fabulous in this vid, and quite simply, it makes me want to crump.

9. Make Em Say Uhh! - Master P, 1997. Directed by ???

Yeah, I can't find the director. Maybe he's not proud of his work, or maybe this video isn't what most people online have ever talked about. But it's actually great, if only because something entitled "Make em say Uhh" is set in a high school gymnasium, and is actually all about basketball... How refreshing! Is this just nostalgic for me? I apologize if that's the case.

8. 1979 - Smashing Pumpkins, 1996. Directed by Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris.

This video will make you nostalgic for 1979 regardless of whether you remember it, or had even been born by then. It may not be set in a high school, but it's clearly portraying a typically ideal teen life that is both culturally specific and transcendent. And it helps that the song is so perfect for this.

7. Opposite of Adults - Chiddy Bang, 2010. Directed by Waverly.

The bobble head is such a simple idea, but I can't take my eyes off this video in a similar way to when I watch the one with the dog heads.

6. Hot for Teacher - Van Halen, 1984. Directed by Pete Angelus and David Lee Roth.

What High School was like in the 80s, or at least how David Lee Roth would have liked it to be. I wonder what the world would have been like if John Hughes (director of all those brat pack movies) had directed music videos...

5. Popular - Nada Surf, 1996. Directed by Jesse Peretz.

The band playing in the football field has been done a lot, but I think this is the best example of it. I love how the song is being said/sung by Matthew from Nada Surf as a lesson about popularity, and I love how the band looks like greasy college students. This one-hit-wonder probably wouldn't have even been that if it weren't for this appropriate, well stylized and memorable video.

4. ...Baby, One More Time - Britney Spears, 1998. Directed by Nigel Dick.

Whatever we may think of Britney or this song, we simply can't deny the influence of this video. What it does, it does well, and most of us will forever picture the Britney of this video when we hear her name or voice. Videos will be trying to copy this for decades to come.

3. Gossip Folks - Missy Elliott featuring Ludacris and Ms. Jade, 2003. Directed by Dave Meyers.

I simply could not put this video below Britney. At times it looks like an Adidas commercial, but that's Missy... and that's High School too. The colours are fantastic and the choreography is even more so. Out of every school shown in this list, this is the one I would like to attend the most.

2. Jeremy - Pearl Jam, 1992. Directed by Mark Pellington.

A haunting video that boldly and tactfully wrestles with bullying and suicide. The video jumps between contrasting images whether moving or still, or light or dark, and is meant to feel a little like a collage on film. Stunning and creepy in the right way.

1. Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana, 1991. Directed by Samuel Bayer.

Basically the opposite of the pep rally in Master P's video, and the antithesis to Britney Spear's Hit Me high school. It gave voice not only to the grunge movement, but to unhappy high school haters everywhere. This was a band that saw through the plastic of popularity, and was ready to make some noise. The video itself is raw and eerie, and is so mentally linked with the song that it's hard to think of one without the other, which is pretty much the definition of the role of a good music video. For a band that couldn't care less about conformity, they certaintly used the tools of the mainstream well.

I should briefly note why The Ramone's Rock and Roll High School isn't on this list. For one, it's because the movie is a movie, not a music video. And secondly, the music video is mostly clips from the movie. A lot of videos do that, but I don't think it makes for a good video as it relies more on the nostalgia of the film than it does on presenting a story or concept itself. So there's my rationalization. Hope you have fun watching the rest of these!

The Video Stars: Top 10 Action/Adventure

2011-08-29T22:24:00.000-07:00

Here comes another 10 excellent music videos that you are going to want to procrastinate by watching on youtube! Action/Adventure may not be a normal category for music videos, but there are plenty of them. Unlike drama, their stories may not always be crystal clear, but we're kept engaged because there's always something happening: running, jumping, fighting, swaggering... you name it.

10. Hungry Like the Wolf - Duran Duran, 1982. Directed by Russell Mulcahy.

This video was shot in Sri Lanka, which helps a lot with the Indiana Jones theme. For a video in the 80's, this actually looked a bit like a film and fit the imagery in the song without being too literal. (I am so grateful there are no hungry wolves running around in this!)

9. 99 Problems - Jay-Z, 2004. Directed by Mark Romanek.

This one comes with a warning - there's a bit of violence that you should know about before you watch. But you probably know that already, because the image is a powerful one that I think of nearly everytime I hear Jay-Z. I also regularly picture him in this video: black and white, walking around Brooklyn. This has less of a continuous plot as it is snapshots of being a black man in Brooklyn, but it still strikes me as action more than anything else.

8. Telephone - Lady Gaga & Beyonce, 2010. Directed by Jonas Akerlund.

Whether we like it or not, this has become somewhat legendary. The video has absolutely nothing to do with the song, and yet no one seems to care - it almost adds to the ridiculousness of the whole thing. This video has everything else you could imagine, and most things you never would (like cigarette shades). I still am not convinced why Beyonce would feel the need to pair up with Gaga, but in this instance it works. She was probably swayed with a promise she could drive the Pussy Wagon from Kill Bill.

I should probably add a warning to this as well, but I'm not exactly sure what I should say. Lady Gaga's purpose in life is to make you cringe or feel awkward, and Telephone is no exception.

7. Glosoli - Sigur Ros, 2005. Directed by Arni & Kinski.

Another beautiful video by this team, featuring beautiful Icelandic children in beautiful Icelandic scenery. A visual representation of JD Salinger's "Catcher in the Rye" quote about catching all the children jumping off a cliff. Clever and, well... beautiful.

6. Don't Come Around Here No More - Tom Petty, 1985. Directed by Jeff Stein.

Who would have thought Tom Petty would make such a fantastic Mad Hatter, and who would have believed his band could have depicted Alice in Wonderland in an even creepier fashion? Apparently both the song and video were inspired by Stevie Nicks, which may explain why they are so full of mystery and excellence.

5. Beat It - Michael Jackson, 1982. Directed by Bob Giraldi.

I can't believe I've posted this many videos before mentioning MJ. Don't worry, this won't be the last. His version of West Side Story is as good as anyone's, and kicks off his long music video legacy of teaching the world that all conflicts can be solved through dance.

4. Everlong - Foo Fighters, 1997. Directed by Michel Gondry.

I am committed to watching everything Michel Gondry has ever been a part of, and this is one of many reasons why. Here my favorite director collaborates with a band with a huge and creative imagination to create nothing if not a visually stimulating, action-packed spectacle. I wish my dreams were directed by Gondry.

3. Hoppipolla - Sigur Ros, 2005. Directed Arni & Kinski.

Another cinematic jewel from Iceland, this time featuring not the young, but the older. This has become basically a perfect depiction of what I want to be like when I am a senior citizen.

2. Sabotage - Beastie Boys, 1995. Directed by Spike Jonze.

A masterpiece parody of 1970's crime tv, complete with fake moustaches and plenty of chase scenes on foot and wheel. The Beastie Boys are masters of having fun and being filmed in the process, and nearly anyone who's seen this wishes they thought of it first. Brilliant.

1. Thriller - Michael Jackson, 1983. Directed by John Landis.

I'm sure you were expecting this at some point. The only difficulty I had was in deciding which category it should be considered in. But this is quintessential action. Although we all know the dance, and we love the sci-fi effects of 1983, ultimately this video is ingrained into our hearts and minds because it continues to be one of the best examples of a video with a plot. It's actually a little bit creepy - especially with Vincent Price and his pseudo-rap - and MJ makes a terribly convincing zombie. Music videos will forever pay homage to this with red jackets, mass choreography, and dancing zombies, and people everywhere will forever learn the choreography to show off at parties or in flash mobs. And all of these facts make the world a better place to live in. Thanks Michael.

The Video Stars: Top 10 Comedies

2011-08-24T20:18:00.000-07:00

Time for my second installment of music videos. Here's my choices for the top 10 comedy music video. Enjoy!

10. I Feel Better - Hot Chip, 2010. Directed by Peter Serafinowicz.

At first you just think it's a great boy-band-parody video, and then a bizarre thing happens. I nearly peed myself when I first saw this one.

9. All the Small things - Blink 182, 1999. Directed by Marcos Siega

Probably more the parody vid you were expecting. Makes fun of nearly every bubblegum pop video that was out in the 90's, and does so in true Blink 182 style. Now when I see an old Backstreet Boys video, I think of this. Classic.

8. Bien o Mal (Right or Wrong) - Julieta Venegas, 2010. Directed by Agustin Alberdi.

So, I can't understand any of the lyrics, which may actually be part of the charm of Bien o Mal. I find it adorable, lovely, and terribly giggle-worthy. Even better, it's meant to be a feminist critique of who decides what is "lady-like". I am totally for this parallel universe, especially if I get to fart butterflies too!

7. I'm On a Boat - The Lonely Island featuring T. Pain, 2009. Directed by Akiva Schaffer.

The Lonely Island have now made a bunch of videos to choose from, but this one stands out for not only its humor, but production. It looks like the kind of rap videos it's making fun of, and got so much acclaim that it was even nominated for a grammy! Most importantly, I don't think I've since been on any kind of boat without this song being referenced at least once. Granted, I am usually doing the referencing...

6. Frontier Psychiatry - The Avalanches, 2002. Directed by Tom Kuntz & Mike Maguire.

This is possibly the most random music video I've ever seen, and yet it ideally suits the song (which is composed of samples from 37 different spoken tracks). Plus, there is just something so awesome about an old woman playing the drums.

5. Learn to Fly - Foo Fighters, 2001. Directed by Jesse Peretz.

I've been noticing that I especially love videos where someone in the band is duplicated. This is an extreme example, and I absolutely love it. Especially when Dave Grohl asks Dave Grohl for his autograph. For fun, try to figure out which characters are all played by which band members. Also, see if you can recognize the song that's played muzak-style at the beginning.

4. Weapon of Choice - Fatboy Slim, 2001. Directed by Spike Jonze.

What a beautiful marriage between band, director, and actor. There is possibly no other actor that could have created the same effect that Christopher Walken does here; he has no deadpan/dance equal. The comedy of this video relies entirely on his creepiness, and there was never any doubt it would succeed.

3. Land of Confusion - Genesis, 1987. Directed by John Lloyd & Jim Yukich

So many puppets, so much happiness. Especially when the puppets represent Ronald and Nancy Reagan, a few other presidents and a whole host of celebrities. The only video from the 80's in this particular list, and isn't it appropriate that it features puppets? What was with the 80's and puppets anyway?

2. Praise You - Fatboy Slim, 1999. Directed by Spike Jonze.

So great. Yes, it looks like someone caught a flash mob on their camera phone, and that's the point. The choreography is wonderfully goofy, the crowd's reactions are 100% genuine, and this likely goes down in history as the cheapest music video to ever be shown on MTV. Also, whenever this song gets played at a party, guess what happens.

1. It's Oh So Quiet - Bjork, 1995. Directed by Spike Jonze.

I won't pretend like this was an easy choice; at some point I considered nearly all of the top 5 videos for the number 1 position. Yet, it does seem appropriate that Spike Jonze is involved considering his name is on so many videos I would consider hilarious or clever. You should probably go right now and watch his entire videography if you haven't already.

But in the end, Bjork's emotional ode to falling in love stands out. There are two thoughts that simultaneously enter my head when I watch this entertaining video: 1. Where did they come up with these ideas? I could never have this kind of imaginitive creativity! and 2. This video is exactly what the song needs - no other video could have possibly existed! It captures Bjork's quirkiness, and her shifts between mellow and exstatic, with such fluidity considering they're terribly abrupt. Genius. Also, I totally have "dance with a mailbox" on my bucketlist thanks to this. Totes.

The Video Stars: Top 10 Dramas

2011-08-22T13:17:00.001-07:00

I've decided to take a short break from albums to make a few top ten lists. This week I have been on a major music video kick, and as a result I have discovered a whole new respect for the medium. Just like physical albums allow us as listeners to tangibly and contextually connect with the music, videos allow us to experience a song in new, visual way.

There are those skeptics who would see music videos nothing more than advertisements, and I can see some truth in that: videos can massively effect the reception of a song or an album in the mainstream, so I'm sure many are made for purely promotional purposes. But as I have been watching and picking videos for top 10 lists, I've been convinced of music video as a whole artistic category on its own.

I have grouped the videos based on what genre the video best fits into, and have one self-appointed rule that no video can be in two lists (even if they clearly fit into several). Let's begin with my top 10 dramatic music videos. These videos all have an uncanny ability to tell a story.

10. Mr. Brightside - The Killers, 2004. Directed by Brad and Brian Palmer.

This song tells a great story all on its own, but with some incredible costumes, great acting, a magical setting, and references to one of my all time favorite movies (Moulin Rouge), the jealousy Brandon Flowers sings about comes to life.

9. This is Hardcore - Pulp, 1998. Directed by Doug Nichol.

Three stories are interwoven, all using old film imagery to remind us that it is all hollywood pretend - a fitting mask for a song about a destructive lifestyle. Creative and beautiful exploration of the song without taking a literal approach, but I kept it in the drama category because it holds intrigue, and asks us to look for the story behind the stories.

8. Like a Prayer - Madonna, 1989. Directed by Mary Lambert.

Better known for its controversy with the Catholic Church and Pepsi, Like a Prayer actually tells a captivating story about a black man wrongfully accused of rape while still capturing the themes of spiritual and sexual ecstasy in the song. Many videos would go on to push the envelope in order to gain popularity through controversy, but few would do it as well as Madonna.

7. November Rain - Guns n' Roses, 1992. Directed by Andy Morahan.

An epic video for an epic song. And it has become so Iconic. And coolest setting for a guitar solo of all time. The story for the video is based on Del James' short story "Without You", which gives a bit more context for the bride's death, but it seems GNR have decided to go for mystery here. I think it works.

6. Nothing Compares 2 U - Sinead O'Conner, 1990. Directed by John Maybury.

Pretty much the opposite of November Rain, Sinead O'Conner gives us one of the most vulnerable moments in music video history: her unavoidable face. The story doesn't need to be spelled out because our interest is in the emotions of this character, and we can't look away. In the same vane, check out Janelle Monae's "Cold War".

5. Rabbit in Your Headlights - UNKLE feat. Thom Yorke, 1998. Directed by Jonathan Glazer.

Eerie and intriguing, this videa was hard for me to watch at first and now I can't stop. Is this a simple story about a man with mental illness, or is it a parable about the way society tackles its problems? Either way, Rabbit in Your Headlights is thought provoking and unexpectedly beautiful.

4. Vidrar Vel Til Loftarasa - Sigur Ros, 2001. Directed by Arni & Kinski.

The slow motion adds to the drama and beauty - very few directors hold a cinematographic candle to Icelandic duo Arni and Kinski - while telling a story so important, and yet barely before tackeled through music video. I especially love the faces of the crowd at the football match.

3. The Scientist - Coldplay, 2001. Directed by Jamie Thraves.

Others have down the backwards thing, but none have done so in such a narrative focused and appropriate way, allowing us to nearly forget the novelty of it. And I'm sure no one has done as convincing a job at singing in reverse action as Martin does here - mind you, it took him a whole month to learn to do it. Oh yeah, and I think this is the only backwards video to not use the water effect. An accomplishment in its own right.

2. Just - Radiohead, 1995. Directed by Jamie Thraves.

The best stories keep you guessing, even after you've heard them. This is one of those. Also, the best use (and non-use) of subtitles ever.

1. Hurt - Johnny Cash, 2002. Directed by Mark Romanek.

Everytime I watched this video it climbed higher up the list until I simply couldn't deny it the number 1 spot. First of all, this is one of the best covers of all time. "Hurt" is given all the more meaning when sung by someone who has lived as much life as Johnny Cash has. And the line "my empire of dirt" is given a new context from a superstar in his 70's.

The video is fairly simple autobiography, with Romanek piecing old footage together, and yet he does so carefully and musically. Cash allows himself to be vulnerable so near the end of his life, giving this video a haunting sense of eulogy or epitaph. A fantastic last word from a complicated and beautiful man that gets better and better every time you watch it. Really.

Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation 1814, 1989

2011-07-25T16:38:00.000-07:00

If I were writing a top ten list of albums that shaped me as a kid, I might as well start by putting this record on top. So forgive me if I wax nostalgic. No matter what song is played from this album, my first mental image is of being in my older brother's basement room, using his double bed as a stage and a deoderant bottle as a microphone, trying my darndest to be Janet. Before spending countless hours in front of the tv, trying to memorize her brother's "Thriller" dance, I was taking lessons from Rhythm Nation 1814.

I won't attempt to talk about this album with mentioning the videos associated with it because very few of us who have ever seen this, can listen to "Rhythm Nation" without being transported to the stark setting of the streets or the sparse warehouse where militant dancers are being trained to transform the world. Janet has a long resume of impressive music videos with high production quality (and costs), however what I love about the videos connected with Rhythm Nation is that they are all very simple ideas and settings allowing the focus to remain on choreography and narrative.

As soon as the bell tolls, opening the album, I am there - one of Janet's army - and to be honest, I've never counted myself out of this number since first hearing this record.

The first three tracks set the foundational concern towards social injustice, calling for a new formation of people along the same line as George Clinton's One Nation Under a Groove. Here, Janet reminds us that there is still a place for the protest/socially conscious song in R&B that was established in the 60's and 70's by Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, ect, but had been missing for nearly a decade. Janet is young here, but with the New Jack Swing fathers, Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis she is able to deliver a call to justice and equality that packs a punch, and keeps us dancing.

After reminding us of the "State of the World", and delivering her thesis that only "The Knowledge" can conquer the likes of prejudice, ignorance, bigotry and illiteracy, she moves the album along with:
"Get the point? Good. Let's dance..." and continues to encourage movement with two power dance tracks, "Miss You Much", and "Love Will Never Do (Without You)". For someone with such a light wispy voice, she sure knows how to energize her listeners. Still, she never let's us get too far away from the issues at hand, reminding us to think of the children in "Livin' In a World (They Didn't Make)".

I recently bought this on vinyl, and "Living in a World..." appropriatly concludes the chapter that is side A. When I turn it over I'm thrust back into the action with the brilliant anthem, "Alright". This song could alone define New Jack Swing with its street class swagger, and marriage of R&B melodies with heavy hip hop beats. Not to mention it boasts one of my favorite music videos of the time. I'm going to go ahead and imbed this one...

Together with "Escapade" these two tracks offer two attempts to hide from the harsh reality, the first with imagination and friendship, the second with flight. "Black Cat" instead faces the danger of the streets as a warning to her lover. Written by Janet herself, I'm not always sure how the harder rock-inspired track fits into this dance record, but it's an example of decent songwriting that sounds eerily like Michael.

There is a very small part of me that wishes the album ended here. However, the last three tracks prepare us all for Janet's sexual revolution that is to come. We can't say she didn't warn us. I read a review somewhere that said "Lonely" is the sexiest song about not getting any that ever existed. That's probably true, at least as of 1989. As in any new nation, love is never left out of the equation entirely. Still, when she takes it all the way to the anticipatory "Someday is Tonight", I just feel dirty. For some reason, this song is so much worse than her way more explicit stuff that comes in the 90's. I don't know why, maybe her age, or how it fits on Rhythm Nation... but however I might justify it, this is my favorite track to skip for sheer awkwardness.

A brief Interlude followed by the same bell tolls that open the album asks us not to allow our eyes to deceive us, since it is only our "knowledge and wisdom that separate us". If I were to critique her philosophy here, I might say we need more than darkness to be blind to our differences, but brighter light to see how deeply we are the same. But that's not what I'm here to do. The real point is that this unlikely young Jackson does exactly what she sets out to do: inspire us to dance in the darkness and invite everyone to join in, regardless of race or status.

21 - Adele, 2011

2011-05-07T13:54:00.000-07:00

I've been attempting to finish a post on the magnificent Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation, 1814 for the past couple weeks, but can't seem to. I'm sure a large part of the delay is the fact that I'm awaiting a vinyl copy to come in the mail, and want to have listened to it once before finally publishing anything. That's what you have to look forward to. In the mean time, I've been going through a bit of a music funk. I'm tired of almost everything I've heard before, but can't seem to find the energy to listen to anything new.

The one exception has been Adele's second album, 21. Yes, it's titled from the age at which she wrote the material, and yes, that throws me off every time considering the emotional depth and maturity that echoes through most of the tracks. I have to admit, this album is growing on me with every listen. As a follow up to 19 I immediately found it disappointing. Don't get me wrong, I fell in love with "Rolling in the Deep" like everyone else, and was playing and re-posting her performance at the Brit Awards of "Someone Like You" along with the half of facebook. But after my first listen, I felt that the rest of the album couldn't live up to these two power songs.

I still think they are the strongest on the album along with "Rumour Has It". Yet at some point I gave the rest of 21 another chance, and this time I imagined that it was a backwards sandwich - the goods at either end with mostly boring essentials in the middle. Eventually it morphed into a Lasagna, where the cheese is still on top, and most of the good juices drip to the bottom, but really, it's all good. Something tells me I'm hungry...

As I mentioned, 21 begins with a bang. The album is an exploration of a particular breakup, but instead of opening with melancholy, Adele comes out swinging. There is indeed a fire in her heart, and it's contagious. I guess the first two songs represent the anger stage of the grief cycle. That's my favorite.

"Turning Tables" jumps back in time to the moment she realizes a breakup is necessary, and although it's a good song, it has an annoying tendency to get Rihanna's "Unfaithful" in my head. I'm no Rihanna-hater, but this is really one of her worst. Still, I shouldn't take out my feelings on Adele; it's not her fault that Rihanna wrote a catchy tune that talks about being a murderer.

The one song I haven't changed my mind on is the next: "Don't You Remember". Adele, you are so much better than a shmultzy country song. I know every breakup album needs a depression-infused-regret song, but this can not be it. I honestly think I would have enjoyed this album much earlier if this wasn't included.

And now that we're past it, I can relax. It gets better from here; it's a steady increase of good tuneage. "Set Fire to the Rain" is quickly becoming the spicy meat in my Adele sandwich... or lasagna. It's the ideal Adele instrumentation that starts with piano at the foundation and builds through the verses to create a climax at the chorus with strings and an epic feeling chord progression.

I love the punctuated piano shots of "He Won't Go", and I do tend to sing along, so perhaps it'll still grow on me, but right now I'm mostly excited for the ballads to start. "Take It All" feeds that craving. Pure, soulful Adele-voice, with the tiniest dab of gospel choir. I kind of wish she saved this one until later, because it's hard to go back to the poppy "I'll Be Waiting".

Something about "One and Only" sounds like it should be in Dream Girls (Am I alone in this?). Maybe that's why I feel like it doesn't hit as hard as it might be trying to. I do LOVE the bridge, where she gives him a little understanding: "I know it ain't easy, giving up your heart." Almost wish it was a song in itself. Then Adele does something I never would have expected. She covers the Cure's "Lovesong". I really like this a lot by itself, but I'm still not sure how it goes with everything else. Are we meant to hear that she's ready to love again, is it denial, or does she actually feel like she'll love the D-bag forever? I'm a little confused.

I forgive and forget everything that came before as soon as the arpeggios of "Someone Like You" begin. This son makes me melt all over, no matter where I am; I become that dork on the bus with the iPod who closes her eyes super dramatically, and worries everyone around that she might burst into tears, and no one will know what to do. But hey, you try to listen to this tragic tune without controlling your emotional reactions.

Here's that post I love to share. I have to go cry now, and no, I don't have time to talk about whatever the bonus track is that came with my iTunes download.

Actor - St. Vincent, 2009

2011-03-22T22:15:00.000-07:00

Recently, I made the mistake of trying to listen to St. Vincent's Actor at work. I call it a mistake, partially because this album begs more attention than it gets as the soundtrack to my pink ukulele sales pitch, but also because I've become accustomed to listening to it on vinyl, in my living room, very loudly. Background levels of volume at the music store hardly does it justice, and left me wanting, so I played it again on the bus over my headphones, and yet again when I got home on the record player where it was truly meant to be.

I have no qualms describing Actor as a work of art. Themes and images run deep beneath thick textures boasting of driving rhythms and catchy-as-hell melodies and counter-melodies(whether sung or played on sax or violin, I can be heard whistling St. Vincent melodies daily). As the title suggests, the album explores the line between fake and real, authenticity and invention, especially in the portrayal of personas and primarily in the likely setting of the suburban neighborhood. Nearly every song is linked by foundational questions of how well we are really known by our lovers, friends and family, introduced right off the bat in "Strangers". As I let these questions percolate, I can't help but wonder what part her stark headshot on the album cover plays, and indeed, even her use of pseudonym (her given name being Annie Clark). How well do we know this woman who serenades us? Who is she really? How thick a line separates who we are from who we present ourselves to be?

When I break from philosophizing, I appreciate St. Vincent's sense of orchestration. Like listening to Radiohead, you know know that every sound has been placed by a perfectionist - with utmost precision - so that even the most chaotic moments are fully controlled. Also like Radiohead, St. Vincent loves to experiment with extreme clarity and distortion, yet somehow is never beyond accessible. Strings, horns, and a rhythm section give Actor the epic feel of a movie soundtrack that is mostly rock and roll, but transforms itself when necessary to jazz or even Broadway-esque. Her rhythms are intensely controlled, creating a contrast against her almost lazy vocals.

One thing that I find so beautiful about listening to this on vinyl is that it seems intentionally divided into two acts, moving the final song on the CD, "The Sequel" to the end of Side A, allowing for the bouncy "Laughing with a Mouth of Blood" to be heard as a new beginning, and concluding the album with "Just the Same but Brand New", which I never even noticed before hearing it as the final track.

Although the songs of this album feel completely tied to one another, in an attempt to take angled digs at the same subject, I feel as though I respond to each one differently: During "Strangers", I'm philosophizing; "Save Me from What I Want" has me grooving with my shoulders while I drink my beer; "The Neighbors" gets me moody; "Actor out of Work" gives me an all-out desire to dance; "Black Rainbow" has me singing the lines of the violins and horns out-loud; "The Sequel" allows me to sink back into my head, before I'm brought back to reality when I flip to Side B and hear "Laughing with a Mouth of Blood"; I can't not rock out to "Marrow" before settling into my thinky-ness as "The Bed" brings me a sense of mystery in the world, though it doesn't make me want to actually lie down in bed like "The Party" ironically tends to; and finally "Just the Same but Brand New" pulls me full-circle to a nostalgic questioning of meaning in the world. And I don't regret the experience for a minute. Just writing this blog gives me such an impatience for this woman's next work of art. But for now, let's watch this great video:

Peace out,
Dance

ArchAndroid - Janelle Monae, 2010 (Part II)

2011-02-14T23:49:00.000-08:00

I have trouble knowing exactly how to understand the two Suites found on The ArchAndroid. What really throws me off is that the first Suite (Monae's album The Chase) and presumably her fouth/last Suite are albums to themselves. Why has she put the middle two on one epic album? Are they incomplete without each other, or was it simply practical?

Although the two Suites are distinct from one another separated by their overtures, the album is listened to in its entirety. Never have I thought to myself, 'well, I think I'll just listen to the third suite of The ArchAndroid now'. The album is divided, but it's still one album: If Monae really wanted separate listening experiences, she would have turned it into a double disc at least.

And so here we are where I left off: The third Suite's overture chiming in, interestingly enough not only foreshadowing the melodies to come, but also picking up on themes provided primarily by the final song of Suite II, "Mushrooms and Roses", further evidence that there is something more substantial linking these particular two Suites.

"Neon Valley Street" moves directly out of the Suite III Overture with a much smoother transition then that of Suite II. It feels almost like a song meant to give you a bit of time to remember where and when you are in the performance, and settle into your seat for the second act. "May the song reach your heart" beckons the listener back into the story, and by the time Janelle's robotic rap starts up I am hooked again. The speaking outro could just as easily be the intro to "Make the Bus" which abruptly begins with Of Montreal's Kevin Barns voice which is totally creepy, and works super well with the whole science-fiction vibe.

In fantastic form, Monae proves that she can indie it up, and then move into "Wondaland", whose melody is reminiscent of the catchiest of an Earth Wind and Fire track. I find myself humming it when I'm walking around work, or waiting for a bus on a regular basis.

The next two tracks are on the mellower side, "57821" (the number referring to Cyndi's droid number) points to her chosen-ness. Sir Greendown is both her lover, and biggest believer in her being a Messianic figure, and it seems that this song suggests that even her droid number somehow prophecies that Cindi will indeed be the one to save Metropolis. Musically, the song layers harmony with Monae and Deep Cotton, and reminds me of something that Fleet Foxes would do. (Have I mentioned that her genre diversity literally blows my mind?) "Say You'll Go" is haunting and beautiful, and comes across to me as a duet between Janelle and the piano.

Finally, "BaBopBye Ya" which transitions through a whole bunch of varied sections, and yet always makes me think of the James Bond movie songs that scroll during the opening/closing credits. You know, like this: It allows the album to end while still holding an intrigue and mystery as to what is to come with Suite IV. I'm ready for it, Janelle Monae!

The ArchAndroid, though only the middle of a story, has a lot to say. About love, freedom, race, and boundary crossing. And it is definitely worth a listen.

ArchAndroid - Janelle Monae, 2010 (Part I)

2011-02-06T22:45:00.000-08:00

2010 was a pretty incredible year for music. And I know it's a little late for any best-of blogs, but part of my hiatus here has had to do with an onslaught of good new music to listen to. It's time to pay homage to one of those distractions, and although there are several to choose from, none of the records from last year have demanded attention like Janelle Monae's The ArchAndroid. It's insanely ballsy, diverse in genre and mood, and yet cohesive in both its bizarre concept and polished production.

The album needs a rather large introduction since the only real way to listen to it is within the context of its concept. The ArchAndroid is composed of 2 Suites, each propelled and punctuated by an overture (at tracks 1 and 12). This is why I've decided to break this blog into two parts, and will discuss each Suite separately. Also, there's just way too much to say!

There is a serious overlap of music with drama as Monae theatrically presents the suites (actually the 2nd and 3rd of what will be a total of 4) as work of the futuristic character of Janelle Monae, who was forced to leave her home year of 2719, and is imprisoned as a patient in Palace of the Dogs in the present. Much of her music regards her sort of alter-ego, Cindi Mayweather, an android (and THE Archandroid whom the album is named for) built with Monae's DNA who is a messianic figure of Metropolis. Yes, a somewhat complicated story. But one that adds layers to the listening experience as The ArchAndroid unites Science Fiction to Reality and Past to Future. Even as the story presents itself as distant from our world, the liner notes name inspirations for each track to be familiar icons of our present and past culture, from "Princess Leia's cinammon (sic) buns hairstyle" to Salvador Dali.

Certainly Monae isn't the first to produce and promote an album through the use of an alter-ego. Many have gone before, and certainly comparisons have been made - most clearly to David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust - yet it seems worth mentioning this is the first by an African-American woman (no, Sasha Fierce does not count). The significance of a protagonist of a beautifully crafted Futuristic setting being an African American woman cannot be lost. I know I'm no Science Fiction buff, but I can think of very few black women in the genre of Science Fiction at all (Nyota Uhura from Star Trek is not exactly a household name), much less as the central figure on whom hope rests. This album is a statement, or at the very least, a new option of hero for an up-and-coming generation.

Musically, Monae pushes through countless boundaries, as each track seems to hop from genre to genre without feeling disjointed or sacrificing the continuity of the album. Whether it's funk, soul, rap, progressive or experimental rock, she sounds at home, and ready for company. She breaks divides by doing collaborations with not only the somewhat expected Big Boi (she's worked with Outkast in the past), but also with the offbeat indie rockers, Of Montreal on "Make the Bus". On top of it all is her fabulous on stage image, dancing like James Brown in her "uniform"comprised of a black suit with a skinny tie and saddle shoes. Not to mention the gravity defying poof on her head.

Ok, let's freaking listen to this thing! As I mentioned before, the album kicks off with an introduction to the 2nd Suite, which picks up on a few melodic themes from songs to come. Somehow she manages an effortless transition from orchestral overture to rhythmic, upbeat, bassy and beepy "Dance or Die" which launches Janelle into energetic rap-sing verses (that tends to remind me of Missy Elliott) hoping for heightened freedom, over a beat which is established with Saul Williams' poetry. It sets the stage, and like any good setting, it's hard to notice when something new has begun, which is exactly how "Faster" begins. I can't tell you how many times I've felt as though it was the second part of the same song. Still, it adds to the tension of the story as we're reminded that our hero is a fugitive. Again, "Locked Inside", which continues themes of captivity and the hope and fight for freedom, begins without drawing great attention to the fact that a new song has begun. The first three tracks launch us into the tension and urgency of the story, and work as a single unit - kind of like the first act of a play.

Then, probably because of a fade out, Sir Greendown slows down and reflects on the primary romantic relationship at hand: Cindi Mayweather and Anthony Greendown, first introduced to us during Monae's first suite called The Chase. Greendown's love gives our hero the motivation and power to persevere, even though the next two giant songs of funk and melody, "Cold War" and "Tightrope" lyrically find the work difficult. Still, the groove in each is enough to feel as though she can do anything, and dance right through it. "Cold War" makes me nod my head without fail, and "Tightrope", well, it makes me want to perfect my tightrope dance. Again, grounding us from this dance interlude, Monae slows it down with a backward recording on "Neon Gumbo" allowing us to reflect where we are in the story. It also bridges into the at first acoustic-sounding "Oh Maker", one of my favorite non-dance tracks on the album.

Abruptly we find ourselves in two songs linked by their names and perhaps their use of electric guitars, but otherwise could not be more different. "Come Alive" is fantastic, bizarre, and sometimes angry, while "Mushrooms and Roses" can only be described as the sex scene of the album (if albums can have sex scenes...), which ever so gradually fades out, and thus appropriately ends our second Suite. But not the album, of course! Check back soon for the third suite of Janelle Monae's Metropolis!

Peace out for now,
Dance

I Never Loved A Man the Way I Love You – Aretha Franklin, 1967

2010-10-15T14:46:00.000-07:00

When I bought Tom Moon’s 1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die, I made two lists: recordings that sounded interesting that I should check out at some point, and albums that I should actively pursue and pay money for, pronto. I Never Loved A Man was in the second category. I didn’t already own this record because I’ve always thought that Aretha was a hit-maker, but not necessarily an artful album-releaser, so I was surprised when Moon listed two of her albums, (along with Amazing Grace, which I’m still in search of for cheap on vinyl) instead of one really good collection that included all of her power ballads and historic gospel tracks.

So anyway, this has been on my purchase-upon-sight-list for about half a year now, and I found it recently on a Sabbath Monday record shop stroll. The album artwork is truly one of Aretha’s few beautiful covers, with the Queen of soul herself looking pensive and candid. As Tom Moon directed, I remembered that this album historically propelled its heroine both into the mainstream, and onto a level shared with the fathers of soul, and listened to it as a beginning. I pretended to have never heard neither the crisp and lively voice that was about to burst from the speakers, nor what has become The feminist anthem of our time. I imagined that I knew ‘Respect’ only because Otis Redding recorded it first, and that the last time I heard strong feminine soul music it was through the vocal chords of Jazz’s triple-threat: Billie, Ella, and Sarah – powerful and deep, yes, but a different game entirely. I placed myself in 1967 as best I could.

And this record completely. Blew. Me. Away.

She begins with ‘Respect’. If that by itself doesn’t demand it, I don’t know what does. She is bold and I can’t take my ears off her, because she means every word, every horn shot, and every pitch inflection. She takes Otis’s ingenious-to-begin-with track, and gives it a whole new meaning as she represents the other half of the human population, bringing the song into the hearts of generations of people – men and women alike.

And then, just when you think this woman has established her confidence and strength, she drops the saddest song in the world. When anyone else sings ‘Drown In My Own Tears’, it’s nothing but melodrama, but I am pretty sure Aretha is channeling Billie Holiday, because I believe every word.

The remainder of side-1 continues to dig deep into the emotional life of this mesmerizing woman of strength and beauty, while highlighting original tunes of herself and her fellow musicians (such as Soul Serenade which was written by T Sax player, King Curtis). The title track makes it clear why she was launched onto the billboards, and is not nearly played enough compared to some of Aretha’s other huge singles.

I never want to skip a single track on this record, but I do start to bounce a little in anticipation of flipping it over. There is something about the second side of a record – and I say that especially in regards to this one. Side-2 begins with the three most fun and groovy songs of the album, ‘Dr. Feelgood’, ‘Good Times’, and ‘Do Right Woman – Do Right Man’ (which connects gender-equality and right-relationship perfectly with head-nodding and chair-dancing), and then they are coupled with the desperate, sad, and yet hopeful ‘Save Me’, and Sam Cooke’s track that is strained with urgency: ‘A Change is Gonna Come’.

I Never Loved A Man the Way I Love You is a true gospel album that speaks, no, sings of both the best and worst of life from the most honest place possible, and ends looking forward with ample faith and confidence. I feel like I’ve laughed and cried, and am officially ready to start the day. At 2:30 in the afternoon on a Friday.

BJ & Dawn: The Land of Make Believe, 2010

2010-09-30T23:34:00.000-07:00

Today marks an historical moment. This is by far the most recent release I have ever written about. This past Tuesday BJ Block and Dawn Pemberton's The Land of Make Believe was released on iTunes, but can also be found on cdbaby. It's the work of BJ Block and his friend Dawn Pemberton, who after having many successful shared shows have finally written some music together, and the result is refreshing and uplifting. Local Vancouverites BJ and Dawn are each incredibly talented musicians, but this is definitely one of those collaborations where the sum is even more than its parts.

The album notes on cdbaby describe The Land of Make Believe as "a children's record for grown-ups," and when I read that I laughed out loud. That is exactly what it is. BJ's guitar lines often sound 80's-Sesame-Street-inspired, and the references to the classic television show get a little less subtle when two tracks, "You Happy?" and "Up and Down" lift direct samples from my favorite Sesame Street guest: Little John John. The result? Wisdom from the mouths of babes, and a nostalgic smile on my face.

I'm getting ahead of myself though; those are nearly the last songs on the recording. "Just Be" beams us straight into a happy "make believe" world, without it feeling too foreign a place. In fact, a lot of the album has an optimistic take on life in a way that is almost otherworldly, yet Dawn Pemberton's soulful voice make it thoroughly believable.

When "Unlucky"'s dirty bass line begins to groove I find myself unexpectedly weighing the ever-debated paradigms of choice vs. circumstance. "Turn It Around" feels a bit like a continuation of the same thought, but I don't find it quite as strong. There are, however, some pretty boss guitar solos. And I am left wondering whether to call this jazzy soul or soulful jazz.

The next stretch of songs are my favorite, probably because they are all danceable party tracks. "You Happy?" makes it clear that this is far more than a "children's album for adults," but the kind of album that anyone can enjoy. I am seriously thinking of getting it for my parents, my brother who has three young children, and my teenage nephew who plays guitar. And I can literally think of nothing else that would be a good gift for all three of those demographics. Except maybe food.

By the time I've thought this thought I realize how perfectly appropriate the name of the next song is: "Everybody's Party." BJ and Dawn just want everyone to have a good time, and I think they're accomplishing their goals pretty well. And though the last couple songs have done their job at creating a certain mood for the room, I am quite sure that "Up and Down" makes me want to do the muppet dance (you know, the one with the limp arms?) all on my own. I can't help imagine the guitar licks expressing the movement and language of some ridiculous new Jim Henson creature popping up around buildings and from behind trash cans.

The album is rounded out by two slightly more reflective love songs, "Without You" and "Tender," which do their part in making me crave more from this duo. BJ and Dawn to answer your question, I am happy too.

Paul Simon: Graceland, 1986

2010-09-10T16:15:00.000-07:00

I could take a year to write a blog post on such a great musical landmark as this. Graceland. I think I could research and analyze and compile enough material to write a small book (or at least a chapter) on the album's cultural, social and political significance/implications. Because I have enough trouble keeping this updated as it is.

So I have decided to try to keep this short, in order to primarily point you to spend a bit of time with this experiment-gone-oh-so-right. And if you get a real tangible copy, Paul Simon has included plenty of interesting details about the instrumentation and composition about the pieces.

There is something about this album, and hearing the married styles of American rock and roll with the people's music of South Africa... yes, there is something distinctly flavored about this record, but it doesn't leave the awkward after taste of forced fusion for the sake of concept. It's SO much more than a concept. It's a love story that transcends all prejudice. It's Romeo and Juliet with a happy ending. Paul Simon fell in love with the music of South Africa - it equally felt to him foreign and familiar - so he made an inspired album using local musicians and their traditions, crossing a metaphorical barrier into a country that was being culturally boycotted by America for anti-apartheid convictions. However Simon, far from supporting apartheid, managed to expose a music that had been hidden from the world under a racist regime.

And when finally uncovered as a mash-up with Simon's own folky American rock-and-roll style, the overwhelming feeling this record communicates can only be described in one word: happy.

I am sure once someone described the music on this record like floating. And it does float: it grooves along a slow canal under hot sun. It bounces up and down and never loses the momentum. Nothing can get me down, even as I unload my dishwasher and notice a layer of grit left on all the bowls. I have probably already said too much, and I haven't said a thing about a single song.

Ok, well hold on tight through The Boy in the Bubble. It always sounds a bit messy to me, and I have to be in the right mood for it, but I never regret letting it play out into the title track, Graceland, which still is not my favorite track, but sets the tone as a strong story of journey and pilgrimage to where "we all will be received". And then we start to have fun. I can do anything while I listen to I Know What I Know, as long as I can sing along, and Gumboots keeps me doing it. Activity preferred.

Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes is the smoothest track, going down like a latte from Cafe Artigiano, and I do tend to pour myself something to drink at this point of the record to relax a little, just in time to turn it over for the superior side of the album.

If you don't have this on vinyl, I would encourage you to take a 30 second break before you start the second half, because I'm convinced it's supposed to be there. You Can Call Me Al sounds like it's starting over somehow, and Under African Skies is maybe the most stereotypical nod to the motherland, but it's so perfect, and prepares us for the accapella Homeless that follows.

And what else can I say? Three more songs (on the vinyl edition that I have) and they are all fantastic. Crazy Love Vol II makes me passionate, That Was Your Mother makes me smirk (it's the one song I feel Paul Simon could have maybe left off), and All Around the World or the Myth of Fingerprints makes me want to dance, and leaves us feeling hopeful for the world.

Hopeful. An album made in the thick of Apartheid debates in traditional South African styles that remains full of hope is nothing short of a Paul Simon miracle. Maybe he should be made a saint. If he can ever successfully reunite with Garfunkle, he just might.

Lauryn Hill: The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, 1998

2010-07-20T22:42:00.000-07:00

I know, you thought I had completely given up on this venture. Well, so had I. Not intentionally. I can't exactly blame business for my lack of writing, because the truth is, I wrote the most when I had the most school work to do, and since graduating I haven't had nearly the deadlines! Perhaps I've been at least partially word-paralyzed by the immensity of the album that has for months now been my next listening project: The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill.

Miseducation is an album that I never need a reason to play. In 1998 it rightly swept the Grammies, and gave a ridiculous know-it-all teenager a strong down-to-earth and talented female role-model. Although I hadn't experienced half of the life Lauryn sings about (love, motherhood...) I felt as though she was singing words from my own soul. Maybe she was just showing me where my English-raised soul was located. Either way, it was an experience of something much deeper than cool sounds.

So I will try my best not to wax sentimental here. Without the nostalgia, which I do realize can be terribly powerful, there is plenty to appreciate. Let's start with the cover art. We find ourselves looking down on a sloped wooden desk, like many times before, oblivious to the lesson spouting at us, tracing with our finger the outlines scratched by earlier students, and wondering who sat here before us. It's clear what we have in our hands is a story of a student who has become the teacher. As soon as the record begins our interest is peaked even further when we realize that our protagonist is missing from the roll call... and my mind's camera seems to pan out and zoom to the real location of Lauryn.

And this is when I tend to wake up. Whenever The Lost Ones kicks in as my alarm, Lauryn spits words at me with a beat that makes it very hard to remain horizontal. Her words are harsh and motivating with a "wake up and pay attention" feel, as she calls her listeners on every mistake of pride and hypocrisy. We're getting ready for a lesson. And it's clear once we're back to the classroom that the topic of the day is love. The entire album moves between two educational settings: the classroom and wherever Lauryn is, and it seems to frame the record as a lesson or at least discussion on the definition of love.

Yet Lauryn's first love song of the album is not what we might expect from such a lesson! Instead of being about a beautiful man or incredible sex, it's about choosing to keep her child, Zion, and finds her focus on spirituality, complete with a backing gospel choir and the prayer-like solos of Carlos Santana. Meanwhile back in class the kids are talking about what it's like to be in love.

Superstar and Final Hour have always felt like a pair to me and even though they have entirely different feels, they are connected by their concern with being real, calling artists away from selling out with choruses like, "Music is supposed to inspire," and "You can get the money, you can get the power, but keep your eyes on the final hour". She draws attention away from celebrity to personal integrity ("I'm about to change the focus from the richest to the brokest") warning us all to "watch out what you cling to".

When It Hurts So Bad begins to sound a little more familiar as an R&B ballad of unrequited love, and has never gripped me like the rest of the album, along with I Used To which I barely noticed. More than that, its seeming fickleness bugged me: She used to love him but now she doesn't? What's that about? Yet I was forced to pay more attention this time considering not only Lauryn, but Mary J. is also belting out the lesson. The song is really about a unhealthy relationship (abusive?) that is suffocating these strong, beautiful women. I wonder if we are meant to experience the juxtaposition of the fickle sounding background hook and the verses that reveal a true salvation song - much like an outsider might react to a breakup, without knowing the whole story.

Forgive Them Father may sound a bit preachy, but it also proves to me that no one can rap biblical references like Lauryn can. Is she a prophet? It could explain the crazy she now finds herself in.

I have only at this point listened to half of the album and still there is plenty left to say! Nothing Even Matters reigns as the most stereotypical love song on the album, completed by dueting Lauryn with D'Angelo who you do not even need to look at to be physically attracted to (although looking wouldn't hurt). Still, organs add a really unique texture to the track, and the finger snaps are as groovy as finger snaps have ever been.

From here on out, we are deep in love, metaphorically and literally. With Lauryn herself. Ex-Factor is a true-to-life reflection on the complications of love and breaking up, where the singer flits between being the one trying to let go to the relationship, and the one desperately hanging on.

Doo Wop was easily the biggest deal from this album. Everyone remembers this song, and everyone should remember the music video. This track is the perfect example of how great Lauryn is at everything she does: we have layers of perfect old-school soul-filled harmonies, exciting energy, and the heaviest fattest rhymes proving that "female rapper" is no oxymoron, all the while spitting a lyrical truth that though we might call it love, some guys/girls are only about that thing.

The retro feel of Doo Wop (That Thing) launches us into the nostalgic track Every Ghetto, Every City, full of references of early hip hop years that give me the imagination that it's where I'm from, even though I'm a white girl from a suburb called New Westminster.

Everything is Everything at the moment does nothing but remind me of Mia Michaels on So You Think You Can Dance. Everything she loves is "everything". Every instrument on this track hits hard, like Lauryn's rhymes, which give a contrasting background to her smooth vocals on the verses and choruses. Ms. Hill reminds us that change is always around the corner, so we need to take advantage of what we're given in the time being to make that change a good one. Or maybe, slightly more far-fetched, that regardless of how "schooled" we think we are, we always have the chance to be educated by life. Yep, that was far-fetched. Sorry.

The album concludes (but doesn't finish) with the title track, that's given a vinyl record quality, and I'm forced to imagine what it would be like to have this album on vinyl for real. The organ and keyboard are superfluous and kind of sound like church. Well, what I imagine a black church to sound like. A combination of a black church and my dad. Ok, I'm taking on a bit of Lauryn's crazy now...

Finally The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill wraps up with two bonus tracks: You're Just Too Good to be True, and Tell Him. I think they're bonus because we're not really meant to hear them as a part of the story (whatever that may have been for you), but they're applicable and appropriate. I love these tracks, but I'm going to end this here. I feel as though I've made up for months of missed writing, and these songs are primarily meant to be enjoyed and not talked about.

Peace out,
Danice

My New Hero: Tom Moon

2010-02-24T11:03:00.000-08:00

Never heard of Tom Moon? Neither had I until a stop in a bookstore during a weekend trip to Victoria. There I stumbled over a fat book entitled 1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die. I pulled it from the shelf and flipped it open to analyze and criticize the book that would no doubt overemphasize a particular genre or era of music. If not, perhaps it would be a collection voted on by several critics, who really disagreed with the list as a whole, and written by several voices giving the book a disjunct feeling.

But 1000 Recordings is neither a unbalanced list of one musical style or concept over another, nor is it written by a committee or forum of critics. One man, yes, Tom Moon, has compiled this list. He is one of the most adventurous and eclectic listeners I know of, appreciating recordings that span the centuries and the globe. More surprising, both country and rap have a sizable contingent. Even more surprising, he doesn't group anything by category(!) but leaves it all alphabetical, so that you may find yourself in the same sitting read about composer J.S. Bach, hardcore punk band Bad Brains and the head-wrapped soul singer Erykah Badu.

Against my better judgment, I did not immediately purchase the book. I assumed that it would frustrate me, and that I would better spend my time finding my personal best 1000 or more recordings, but that decision could not stop me from looking up the author online. This is where I discovered his website, where I was quickly sucked into his blog. You have to check it out here. On the website Moon hasn't had his entire book published, but you can spend hours (literally) browsing the list by artist or genre, and some of them do include the book entry. It's still not quite enough to satisfy me (I'm going to see if I can find a copy of the book today).

I have discovered in Tom Moon another boost of inspiration (outside of the many albums that draw me to write in praise of them) as a writer who positively describes every kind of music in a way that inspires others to explore new worlds of sound.

Of course, the dreaded next question is if I will pull a Julie Powell on him and blog every album on his list. It was certainly the question that popped into my head, just before I discovered that there are at least two other bloggers in cyberspace doing the same already - see 1000 Recordings (The Ride) and Whit's Blog. Besides, 1000 is a lot, and a nearly-never-ending project like that will probably just add never-ending stress. Plus, one of the reasons I love Moon is that he's always writing positively, and I like writing about things I love. Going through the list will inevitably cause me to write blogs about albums I don't really appreciate.

Instead, though I will no doubt have my listening shaped by his suggestions, I have my own list of to-blog albums that I will continue to make my way through. And I will, I promise, though I may be down to one post a month until graduation.

See you soon,

Danice

Joni Mitchell: Hejira, 1976

2010-01-25T19:28:00.000-08:00

I'm back! And although I haven't been at this blogging thing for very long, I think it's safe to say that this is a rather uncommon entry. My reasons for writing on Hejira, (an album that will mark both my first blog on something recorded before my own birth, as well as my first blog on an album I haven't already become acquainted with) require a bit of back-story:

You see, Mondays are my sabbath. I began practicing sabbath on Mondays when I was on staff at church, making it very impossible to rest on a work day, and I guess I've kept it because rest for me means sleeping in, and Sunday morning service doesn't let me do that. However, this semester I have a class with enough reading to occupy my far more than 7 days a week, and this week in particular I have been asked to finish George Eliot's Middlemarch, a 621 page novel. Being fiction, I decided I would afford to let it make up a large part of Monday.

All of this to say that I went to my favorite coffee spot with my favorite person to read and caffeinate, but was unable to make it there without stopping at my favorite shop on the Drive: Audiopile. I flipped through the Joni Mitchel section, looking for Blue and picking up Clouds immediately, when Beth suggested we buy Hejira too ("it's only $5!").

As I mentioned earlier, I've never written a blog about an album I haven't previously listened to. Usually I have to spend a little more time with it, get to know it intimately, take it out on a few dates on my iPod. Not this time. I resolved to blog this album as I realized how cohesive it is. The instruments are nearly limited to soft reverb-ed guitar, a bass, and barely noticeable percussion. The few times that any shift occurs, it stands out and begs to be asked regarding its intentions.

Also, this is no album of extremes. You won't find anything as emotionally saturated as Both Sides Now or as cheerful as Chelsea Morning. This is not the album on which Joni teaches cold English housewives how to feel (thanks Emma Thompson in Love Actually). Instead it will tell us stories, paint us pictures, and generally allow me to relax (even reading victorian lit) on my sabbath.

Hejira opens with Coyote, the reason Beth decided to purchase the record, which drives us straight into the action of the sound of road-tripping across America. Appropriate, since it's the setting for Joni's inspiration for this collection: "Hejira" references an Arabic word meaning journey, and all the songs being written on a solitary drive from Maine to L.A. It's a theme that we're introduced to as soon as we pick up the cardboard record sleeve picturing an open highway stretching further than the eye can see (set within Joni's too thick torso... that's just weird).

I try to pick up my novel, but instead Beth and I launch into a conversation about the relationship between Joni's lyrics and chord structures. We decide that comparisons can be made to a recitative section in opera, where the point is really the dialogue and not the melody. Joni often sounds as if she's half-consciously telling us a story without worry for matching the climax with any kind of "chorus". And the music seems to wait for her, only moving on when she seems to have finished a thought. I think this has a lot to do with the interaction between her and one of the most influential bassists of all time, but I'll talk about that soon enough.

Amelia settles into the more continuous tone of the record, which is slowly reflective, and connects her themes of womanhood and journeying with one of the most famous female adventurers: Amelia Earhart. Her life and death inspires Joni to imagine possible destinations and tragedies, both worth the risk of journey: "till you get there yourself you never really know, where some have found their paradise, others just come to harm..." and draws in the inevitable and linked themes of escape and anonymity.

Furry Sings the Blues is apparently a reference to a ultra-popular country blues guitarist, Furry Lewis, of whom I know nothing about. But if you're talking about the blues, why not feature harmonica? And if you're going to feature harmonica, why not get Neil Young to make an album cameo? I don't know what he's playing, because it certainly doesn't sound like cross harp. It's almost as if an entirely different song is playing in the background - probably only Young was confident enough to play something so mis-matched. I think it works, and certainly shows off what a crisp harp soloist he is. Hooray for a collaboration between Canada's two best folkers. Is that a word? oh well...

Finally the album's title track, Hejira, the only song I recognize much. I almost want to copy out her entire first verse, but instead I'll tell you to check it out yourself. Which reminds me. Mitchell is a freaking poet. I mean, I suppose it's fairly common to say this of a folk singer-songwriter, but really, the same thing that causes me to say things like, "where the heck is the melody?" give me the feeling like it's story time, and I'm cuddled up in a blanket hanging on every word. Here we also get the one other highly notable instrumental change. With a reference to Benny Goodman, subtle clarinet lines emerge. (Yeah, a clarinet can be subtle. It was news to me too!)

It was also during Hejira that I finally picked up the sleeve wondering who the heck was playing those bass lines. No, "bass line" doesn't even describe them. "Counter-melodies on the electric bass" is a much better description, although I didn't seem to notice this beauty except for during Coyote. Soon enough it all makes sense. Jaco Pastorius, who changed bass playing for the world, apparently collaborated with Mitchell a few times, and this is one of them. Each song he's featured on pops out of the texture of the record like one of those high-def scenes of a flower blossoming on Planet Earth. He shows off the range of the bass, even throwing his famous harmonics into the mix without any virtuoso show-offy-ness. I can't understand why he's not used on every track of Hejira. Maybe Mitchell believes in too much of a good thing? Seriously though, where Joni lacks melody, I find myself more likely to sing a long to Jaco in this song and later on Black Crow.

Song for Sharon, I'm sorry to say, has me thinking about George Eliot's Middlemarch. As Joni reflects on a dichotomy between marriage and independence, I reflect on what a different sort of question that is in the 1830's setting of the characters of my book. I even pick it up and read a little further, though it's rather obvious that I am far more interested in listening and writing this by now.

Black Crow might be my favorite track on the album. The song has a destination like the bird of subject, and plans to arrive by grooving out. It retains a certain amount of the blues that shows up everywhere else on Hejira, but like some of my more conscientious lecturers who will let us take stretch breaks, Mitchell recognizes that in order to keep from falling asleep we need to move along with the vehicle. I can't help it, here is my favorite bit:

In search of love and music my whole life has been, Illumination, corruption, and diving, diving, diving, diving, diving down to pick up on every shiny thing...

And yes, I did count the number of divings.

Blue Room Motel dwells on a lover who is waiting for her back home. Why? I'm done with her feeling sorry for herself. She can reflect all she wants on life, but to be pining away for some guy who isn't even apart of this grand journey? Really? Nearing the end of the album, I suppose we're nearing LA with Joni, but I am bored by these whiney blues. Thank the Lord that she ends with another collaboration with Jaco instead of this tripe.

Refuge of the Road doesn't arrive anywhere, but leaves us in the journey; the hejira. Continually displacing us in the progression and resolving back into the comfortable and familiar, just like the highway clearly is refuge to her. Now I'm going to have to download this album so I can experience it on the open road as it was conceived and probably meant to be heard, though Joni's voice cuts through cleaner on vinyl than anywhere. Well, probably it's even better live. But that's just conjecture.

Back to Middlemarch for me. Please forgive my gaps between albums - I doubt this semester will be very blog friendly.

#1 Album of 00's: Radiohead's In Rainbows, 2007

2010-01-03T22:56:00.000-08:00

Better late than never, right? The thing is, I didn’t pre-consider the fact that I might want to spend more significant time on albums that most shaped my personal experience of the Ohsies. So I’m sorry that I didn’t stick with the 12 day plan, but here I am at the number one album as promised, and even before the distraction of the first New Music Tuesday of 2010.

I tried my darndest to keep it to one album per artist, I really did. But once I started compiling my list by considering possible number one albums, it was clear that both Kid A and In Rainbows were not simply contenders for the top 12, but for the number one spot. Just be grateful that I didn’t give in and add Thom Yorke’s Eraser to the list as well!

Luckily for me, the two Radiohead albums listed are not simply two really amazing albums, but they’re also incredibly distinct. Two albums couldn’t have more of an opposite effect on me: While Kid A seems to demand my intellect in full attention, In Rainbows has a more flexible feel, appropriate for nearly any excuse to put music on. The interplay between melody and rhythm plays like a good jazz record, and I rarely stop to listen or look up lyrics (though uncharacteristically, Radiohead does supply lyrics in the liner notes). On top of it, when we do stop to listen to what’s being sung, the lyrics represent the most personal stuff Radiohead has ever released!

The closest track we get to an electronic Kid A sound is the first song, yet it’s instantly clear that we are experiencing Radiohead as a full out rock band. (Perhaps Yorke realized he can play with electronics satisfactorily on his solo projects?) And no, this is not simply an experience of a band returning to an earlier formula, since In Rainbows sounds just as dissimilar from The Bends as any other album. What we have here is a brand new band; one who has continued to grow and is finally ready to play with everything that they have learned and discovered over decades of music-making; a band that is willing to make use of all of its members to their greatest potential. Not only that, but they’re willing to let the public decide what their music is worth, releasing a downloadable version first for your choice of a donated amount. Whatever you paid, it’s worth at least twice as much.

15 Steps feels like a punch in the face, but in a good way. Though the album can be listened to in nearly every context there is one very important consistent: some part of my body will be punching out the beat, which by the way, is the most natural feeling 5/4 since Brubeck and Desmond’s Take Five. This symptom of foot tapping/head nodding continues into Bodysnatchers, creating the greatest pair of momentum builder tunes for doing nearly any productive thing. Bodysnatchers is full of speed and sound and distortion, with clean guitar strings settling in overtop the rhythm and lyrics, but as it prepares to come to a close, it does the opposite of expected and drops a wicked guitar solo.

Then with Nude comes another change of pace, but doesn’t shock the system. Instead it melts my insides thoroughly as the string quartet seems to dialogue with Thom’s passionate vocals on the intertwined topics of desire and disappointment. I think this is the first time I’ve thought of a Radiohead song as sexy. And as Thom’s voice rises to the conclusion that leaves me hanging a little, the mood carries itself through Weird Fishes/Arpeggi. Who would have thought “sexy” could be associated with a song called Weird Fishes? But the guitar riff seems to effortlessly roll over the straight drumbeat that pauses only briefly about 3 minutes in, as if stopping to make sure we’re headed in the right direction. Turns out we are, as the song remains mostly instrumental till the end. So stunningly beautiful.

All I Need introduces Radiohead’s first romantic ballad, not without its dark undertones created by fuzzy droning synthesizer, cello, and lyrics that hint at loneliness and even obsession. As creepy as this groove is, the message seems to be a love that runs deep and unconditionally... then again, that kind of committed love can be pretty terrifying...

Faust Arp and Reckoner have most often been the strongest competition to be my favorite track on the record. Faust Arp feels intensly cyclical though it throws a 9/8 measure in every few bars, giving a sense of loosing control, though we hop right back on the familiar rotation soon enough. Still doing things brutally uncommon in the pop/rock genre, Radiohead does the experimental gently, as though holding your hand through the unexpected.

Reckoner begins with an atmosphere that seems as though I’m approaching the song rather than the other way around. Philip Selway’s snare and cymbals sound echoey and loud as if in a cement tunnel, and the soft electric guitar builds its volume at tiny increments. I feel as though I’ve stumbled across the best-kept secret of the decade, and the only thing there is to do is groove out.

Ever since finally seeing this band live, House of Cards is tied to my memory of their first encore at Thunderbird Stadium. As I sit in the living room, sipping on my rum and coke float, I think to myself that if it were raining right now, I would be moved enough to go out in my headphones and attempt to recreate that outdoor concert experience. Yorke’s voice on the track is even reverb-ed, creating just the stadium effect I need for my nostalgia.

Jigsaw Puzzle Falling Into Place recalls some of the album’s earlier energy, and portrays the story well as two people connect as if puzzle pieces that fit together. I can’t help but think that the way Radiohead is rocking out as an expression of the same chemistry.

In Rainbows closes with the spine-tingling, minimalist Videotape. Three piano chords cycle incessantly as the drum beat is slowly offset, creating a reflective tone as Yorke sings of looking back on a life nearing the end of it. A reference to Mephistopheles not so subtly recalls the Faust theme of the first half of the album, inviting us to examine our own life through the frame the music provides.

At the moment I feel so in love with In Rainbows that I cannot even articulate what it is that sets it apart so. There is an atmosphere to it that goes beyond a soundtrack quality, but settles into my emotional core and finds meaning in whatever happens to be at the center of my attention at the time. Every song finds a certain perfection that allows itself to be played in nearly any circumstance, and yet also welcomes analysis and questions. It’s the most colourful Radiohead we’ve heard yet.

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So there you have it. My twelve favorite albums of the Ohsies are now recorded and heard, and I’m ready for a new decade of music. For those curious and disappointed, here is a list of the albums that had reoccurring guest spots in Listmas drafts. Likely I will blog them one day, but at the moment am looking forward to returning to some older music. We shall see. Happy Listmas to you all!

In Chronological Order:

Eminem: The Marshall Mathers LP, 2000
Jack Johnson: Brushfire Fairytales, 2000
India Arie: Acoustic Soul, 2001
Broken Social Scene: You Forgot It In People, 2002
Damien Rice: O, 2003
Postal Service: Give Up, 2003
Death Cab for Cutie: Transatlanticism, 2003
U2: How to Dismantle and Atomic Bomb, 2004
KD Lang: Hymns of the 49th Parallel, 2004
Imogen Heap: Speak for Yourself, 2005
Regina Spektor: Begin to Hope, 2006
Handsome Furs: Plague Park, 2007
Yael Naim: Yael Naim, 2007
Coldplay: Viva La Vida, 2008
Animal Collective: Merry Weather Post Pavillion, 2009
K-Os: Yes, 2009

So, what were your favorite albums of the Ohsies? What'd I miss?

Peace out,

Danice

#2) The Arcade Fire: Funeral, 2004

2010-01-02T13:24:00.000-08:00

When Arcade Fire’s Funeral is mentioned, I must admit, what comes to mind first is not always the music. I think of the thin cardboard disc jacket that often becomes hidden among my other CDs, and the single sheet bulletin style liner notes which in a short band bio notes, “the irony of their first full length recording bearing a name with such closure.” Ironic indeed. For as the tracks explore mortality and loss, they never gets bogged down with grief, but push ahead full of drive and… well, life!

Leaving my iTunes minimized, I pop Funeral into the ghetto-blaster that acts primarily as an alarm clock on my bedside table as I attempt to clean up my pig sty of a room before my roommate gets home. Christmas presents must find spaces, clothes must be washed, and papers must be sorted: welcome to the new year! I’m finding myself spending a lot more time with the lyrics than with all I need to put away though.

The album begins with 4 tracks with the same name: Neighborhood #1, 2, 3, and 4, with a short intermission between #2 (Laika) and #3 (Power Out), called Une annee sans Lumiere (Sorry, but I have no clue how to add French accents in here). #1 (Tunnels) paints a childhood dream in vivid picture of a town completely snowed in (did I mention these guys are from Montreal?). The two love-struck kids dig tunnels to meet in town alone, and find themselves in their own world, forgetting what life was like before.

The neighborhood tracks beckon us into a coming-of-age story, as we discover what we are to become only in light of reflecting on all that we’ve lost. #2 subtitled Laika refers to the first dog sent into space without intention to bring him back as a metaphor for the black sheep of the family. I love the relational dimensions brought into this song though, sung from the point of view of a sibling, we picture the fights with a parent, and even the way neighbors can revel in a good story to tell, regardless of the pain it causes. It’s sung with a lot of tongue in cheek goodness.

Thus begins the year without light. Une Annee Sans Lumiere breaks from the cycle of neighborhood pictures to find a moment to grieve and reflect, but only a moment. Upon closer investigation (looking up a translation), the song is really a joining of the songs on either side of it. Une Annee combines metaphors of family struggle (the father wears blinders like a horse) with a dark world that’s lost it’s power (“hey! The streetlights all burnt out”). In preparation for Neighborhood #3 (Power Out), Une Annee speeds up with tambourine and shouts of “Hey!” that make me want to start running all the way into the next track. Power Out continues to describe the town searching for light, and extends the metaphor to a final frustrated thought and plea: “and the power’s out in the heart of man, take it from your heart put it in your hand.”

Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles) uses actual kettle whistles above the repeated string patterns in between verses. It drives me a little crazy, but creates a mysterious effect as Butler continues to reflect on the relationship between birth and death in lines like, “Time keeps creepin’ through the neighborhood, killing old folks, wakin’ up babies just like we knew it would,” and “they say a watched pot won’t ever boil… just like a seed down in the soil you gotta give it time.”

Crown of Love seems to be the center of this album, while all the other songs run at full pace this one is a simple apology: “if you still want me, please forgive me, the crown of love is not upon me,” showing of Butler’s ability to embody great passion. In the final minute, the track’s string driven 6/8 feel breaks into 4/4 and I break out dancing for the last minute of the song. My only disappointment on the entire album is that it fades out instead of developing the energy yet again, and expanding the song to 6 minutes.

But I forget all disappointment as soon as Wake Up strikes up and calls everyone to sing along to the syllable of “oh” like a good U2 chorus. In this song we return to the theme of growing older, and although the song begins heavily, they cleverly transition into dance beat that seems to face death without fear, affirmed by Butler shouting, “you better look out below!”

Hanging up clothes as Haiti plays, I can’t help but think the repeated counter melody sounds like a steel drum melody, though it tends to be played be flute and voices. Suspended electronic sounds remain while nothing else does, and the anticipated Rebellion (Lies) beat enters right on top with energy-contagious kick drum and bouncing double bass combo. I don’t want to close my eyes, because it’s simply not safe when you’re jumping around the room.

Finally Funeral comes to a close with female vocalist Regine Chassagne, who sings with a haunting Bjork quality. Until now she’s only headed up “oohs” or accented words or lines sung primarily by Win Butler, and I wonder if she was held back earlier in the album in order to create the surprise that In the Backseat brings. Swinging between two feels of either thin arch-shaped piano lines, and a heavy rock underscored by bowed bass, the instrumentation seems to hint at the song’s theme of moving between childhood and responsibility: “My family tree’s loosing all it’s leaves, crashing towards the driver’s seat”. At the end of Funeral, this is one of the few songs that appropriately fades into silence, and I’m left with nothing to do other than push play again.

#3) Sufjan Stevens: Come On! Feel the Illinoise!, 2005

2010-01-01T15:44:00.000-08:00

I have to at least wonder how my experience of Come on! Feel the Illinoise! would change if I had ever stepped foot into the state of Illinois. As Sufjan’s second installment of albums inspired by/dedicated to each of America’s 50 states (which is a project he’ll doubtfully complete), he references many specific locations, personalities, and events particularly relevant to Illinois, such as Chicago, Decator, Jacksonville, serial killer John Wayne Gacy Jr., Superman (he’s from Metropolis, duh!), and those are just examples taken from the song titles. Not to mention, those are just ones that I actually recognize.

But I don’t find the album’s American prairie setting excludes me completely as a west coast Canadian, because ultimately the album’s true concept is a collection of short stories of human life meshed with Stevens’ touching personal reflections. Just as a good movie can do, specific setting is used to create a fairly universal story. And story is one of the many things Illinoise does incredibly well; it is folk music at its absolute highest caliber.

Although it is somewhat ambiguous from the first two tracks, Illinoise quickly shows itself to be the happiest sound on my list, and arguably the entire decade! Even tackling heavy subjects of war and murder, there is a lightness in the exquisitely eclectic instrumentation, and a sense of humor that comes with ridiculously long song titles. (For the purpose of time and space, I’ll use abbreviated names unless absolutely necessary).

And so we are introduced to Illinois/Illinoise with reflective piano not constrained by any time signature used in pop music prior (65/16. And no, I don’t want to admit how long I spent on that), preparing us for a collection of songs that refuse to fit into any box. Flutes trill above the texture freely, until they go crazy in The Black Hawk War, a march complete with snare shots doubled by trumpets.

Both tracks to me feel like a slow approach to the listener, before full out inviting us to indeed “Feel the Illinoise” with the title track, which is broken into two parts: The World’s Columbian Exposition, and Carl Sandburg Visits Me in a Dream equally portray some of the most joyful energy, even as both parts question the meaning of progress in light of the world fair and transitioning to a more personal inquisition inspired by the poet Carl Sandburg: “Are you writing from the heart?”

While this album creates an atmosphere easy to play in any background, it can additionally be appreciated musically and lyrically for hours. For months I didn’t pay attention to what John Wayne Gacy Jr. was about, and when a friend pointed out that he was a famous serial killer I was eager to listen to the lyrics more closely. Sufjan has a way of empathizing with both victim and victimizer, turning the final line into an introspection: “and in my best behavior, I am really just like him, look beneath the floorboard for the secrets I have hid”.

Jacksonville through Decatur (the first song I know of positively dedicated to step-mothers!) have a great southern banjo flavor that is only briefly interrupted by A Short Reprise of strings (which tie the entire album together, without sounding too formal) that flow straight into the best-known and loved track on the album, Chicago. Oh how I need to go to Chicago. In the past, I’ve mostly wanted to go so I could have my picture taken with the bronze Michael Jordan outside of the United Center. I still want to do that, but now I just want to duplicate an experience of a van road tripping and sleeping in parking lots like described in this song.

More sensitive story telling with Casmir Pulaski Day, showing what has been consistently true of Illinoise; Sufjan’s beautiful sense of both melody and harmony. Having a brief instrumental break before The Man of Metropolis jars us back into interest with a few beats of an electric guitar that doesn’t find its way back into the track for a full two minutes. The variety in instrumentation is noted yet again, as The Prairie Fires return to a Sufjan-favoured combination of oboes and muted trumpets that finds itself displayed in all of its glory throughout the Predatory Wasp as well. And for the sake of trivia and awe, Sufjan himself plays nearly every instrument in the recording of this album.

As Sufjan continues to sing his simple and deeply honest lyrics, it occurs to me that there is something about his voice that doesn’t quite fit in with the other artists on my top 12. Thus far it has seemed that one of the most consistent themes of Listmas has been men making use of their falsetto range. Think about it: Falsetto is practically a trademark for Justin Timberlake, Thom Yorke, Chris Martin, and Jonsi Birgusson. Yet Sufjan’s voice is under-produced, softly calling us to pay attention to his insights. Not that he never hits a high note, but there really is something quite noteworthy how unremarkable his voice really is. Yet we love him for it, and the way it seems to welcome us all to sing along with him.

This album also plays rather like a movie. It’s certainly long enough to be a feature film, and as we near the end, tracks like Night Zombies and The Seer’s Tower turn dark, seemingly more at home on the earlier album Seven Swans, which is a musical interpretation of the Biblical Revelation. The ghostly part of the album doesn’t last long however, and we return to another 2 part-ed song full of energy and joy as though we really haven’t departed to far from the title track. Even the transitions between the two parts finds itself made up primarily of falling trumpet lines, while Illinoise transitioned by rising ones.

In noticing similarities between Illinoise and The Tallest Man, I begin to wonder if the whole record is set up in a chiastic structure, since they match also as the third and third from last song on the album. This would make The Man of Metropolis Steals our Hearts the most important track through which to hear the rest of the songs. Interesting, but I’ll have to leave that analysis for another day, and instead try to remember whether Sufjan Stevens was in my Orchestration class as we also had to write an exercise of riffs using a single note. Either way, he cheats a bit.

And so beautifully, Out of Egypt concludes the experience in a wonderfully Steve Reich influenced instrumental repetition that fluctuates slowly and covertly. It allows me to put the whole experience down for a while and reflect before I decide to pick this album up again. Sounds take their turns emerging and re-submerging into the texture as all that makes up Illinoise seems to be waving wide-eyed goodbyes.

In a decade of emo and self-pity, Sufjan asks his questions of meaning not with naivety, but with refreshing hopefulness. Easily one of my favorite things created this decade, and absolutely my favorite new creative genius from these past 10 years.

#4) Radiohead: Kid A, 2000

2009-12-31T09:18:00.000-08:00

In a way, it was such a gamble. How could a band like Radiohead follow up their 1997 album, OK Computer, which was hailed by some to be one of the greatest albums ever recorded? What musical move would they make next after reaching the heights of becoming arguably the best rock band ever? That's easy; make an even better album, with more experimentation, that is received by an equally large audience.
Not that this album was "easy" for Radiohead to release: Thom Yorke experienced depression and writer's block under so much pressure. But regardless of the details of process, what they came up with in Kid A is a masterpiece. I experience it as so much more than an album, but as an event.

Although it is not a concept album per se, it seems to spark a dialogue between the real and the illusion; the true and the false; the human and the machine. Kid A may even be referring to a human clone, though Yorke insists there is no specific story or concept driving this album. Either way, the title suggests someone stripped of the humanity that comes with having a name. And how appropriate, as listening we attempt (unsuccessfully sometimes) to decipher what is human and what is machine throughout Kid A.

I have begun listening to this album so many times these last few weeks. The first time, my iPod decided it needed a charge; Other times I simply mis-judged the time I had before other plans or commitments, and was forced to interrupt myself. Finally today as I walked, skytrained, and walked some more, I was able to make it from Everything in its Right Place all the way to Motion Picture Soundtrack. Here is my Kid A experience.

Instantly I’m introduced to the fine line between the use of human voice and mechanized voice, as vocals are distorted right from the start. Yet as if coaxing us to stick with him, he lets us know that Everything’s In Its Right Place. The title track continues the voice distortion, far before the vocoder became every pop artist's favorite toy, and meanwhile a glockenspiel gives the track a sense of eerie playfulness. Kid A feels as though we have lost gravity, and yet a solid foundation is maintained through solid beat, and is not far from our feet; as if we're floating, but it's not terribly dangerous.

It's clear by The National Anthem that the sonic intricacies are calling my attention far above any interesting train companion or view. Can I also mention that any national anthem that includes a Bari Sax honking out is one that makes me feel very patriotic. Unfortunately, I don’t know what country (or planet!) I should be proud of. Perhaps I can consider it a universal-national anthem. All the horn parts on this track remind me of either/both Charlie Mingus and/or Ornette Coleman's Free Jazz. As the overblown cadence draws the anthem to a close, a faint recording of an old band reminds us of what a more stereotypical style of patriotic music might sound like.

The next two tracks combined seem to draw me into an entirely different dimension of time or space. In some ways this track sounds more familiar, more closely linked to Ok Computer songs like Exit Music for a Film, Let Down, or even Karma Police. Still, the song finds itself still more pensive beneath electronically layered sounds. The vocals on How to Disappear Completely sound more human than anything so far, yet his clear lyrics are saying "I'm not here" and "this isn't happening".

I find myself sinking deeper into my psyche and finding the ancient philosophical conundrum: how can we be sure of what is real? How do we know we're not just dreaming all the time? The strings build this question into a climax of cries, while the slow waltz-like rhythm rocks me as if to comfort my questioning mind. And then Treefingers is simply present, with no sense of time at all. I’m suspended, and if anywhere I feel as though I’m underwater. I half expect to see the outside world with brand new eyes.

In Optimistic I recognize that we have made quite the departure from Everything in its Right Place's line, "yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon" to more, well, optimistic lyrics like, "try the best you can, the best you can is good enough". And although Optimistic fades out, it only does so as it foreshadows the In Limbo guitar riff, and In Limbo slides in as if it is the second movement of the same piece, though not quite as optimistic in tone.

Actually, this whole album feels as if it works as one piece. Each track could be seen as a movement that explores different aspects of sound and thought, but in the end they all go together. This could explain why none of the albums songs was really considered a single. With the possible exception of the next track.

There is certainly something special about Idioteque. I wonder if music can have three dimensions, as I find sounds sneaking up behind me, while others face me head on and fearless. Still others kindly tap me on the shoulder to let me know they’re standing beside me. And all of that over a drum machine! I find myself trying to imagine a group dance choreographed by Sonya on So You Think You Can Dance. Oh man, I hope that becomes a reality! That thought (and perhaps the meter in 5 on Morning Bell) put an extra bounce in my step.

The conclusion of the album with Motion Picture Soundtrack offers a brand new instrumentation. Beginning with organ and voice, I imagine I arrive at a dramatic funeral on another planet. Slowly, the track has sweeping harp lines and eventually a distant operatic voice. Repeating, “I think you’re crazy, maybe” over and over, I wonder if I am. Has this album played a trick on me? I wonder if I’ve somehow entered a psychological thriller, and I have no idea what’s about to happen. The track plays on for a few minutes in silence, only to be interrupted with a short return of suspended notes.

Kid A is an album I will return to repeatedly and ask new questions of each time. It has even been listed by many notable critics as the number one album of the decade. I can certainly see why, although there are three more albums that seem to have embedded themselves even deeper into my own heart…

#5) Fleet Foxes: Fleet Foxes, 2008

2009-12-28T23:43:00.000-08:00

Hands down the best album of 2008. Hands way down. It's an album with a unique mood and timbre that makes my living room smell like the woods when I listen to it on vinyl. The folky guitar lines and full, high male harmonies make me want to put on flannel and eat spinach at the same time. If you have not yet listened to the Fleet Foxes on a proper vinyl record, please consider this your invitation to join me on a foggy day at Chalet de Brie (this is the name of my house). Something about this record sounds simultaneously old-fashioned and like nothing I've ever heard before. And I swear the crackles of dust enhance the entire experience.

I must admit, this listmas thing has become more of a challenge than I ever expected. And although I am fully enjoying the listening and writing that is the process of blogging, I know that I cannot do the Fleet Foxes justice. Also, as contradictory as this sounds, though Fleet Foxes are best heard on vinyl, they are also best listened to in a moving vehicle. Yes, I do know turntables are rather stationary, and that this makes no sense, but just go with me for a second. If you can't give all your attention to the album, in a setting that would ideally include blankets, hot beverages, and a well-stoked fire, one must have the album be the soundtrack to beautiful British Columbia, in all of it's big green splendor passing by your window. Seriously, you should try both sometime.

What I am trying to say here, is that I am not going to blog this album song by song, but instead make these two suggestions: play it on your way home from somewhere in daylight (at least a 40 minute drive), or come over. I promise one day I will blog about this album in a more in-depth way - hopefully from the point of view of a road-trip passenger - but until then, it must make a brief appearance to accept the honor of receiving my personal award of the fifth best album released between 2000 and 2009.

#6) Sigur Ros: Takk..., 2005

2009-12-27T22:06:00.000-08:00

It's true that Takk...'s lyrics are mostly translatable, having been written primarily in Icelandic as opposed to the band’s made up language of Vonlenska favored on the earlier album, (). (There are several moments when Birgisson breaks into the scatted combination of English, Icelandic, and Gibberish, but I personally can’t tell the difference anyway.) However, I'd rather not bother with translation because apart of the beauty for me listening to Sigur Ros is in not understanding their words. I experience the vocals far more like a breathy solo instrument. In fact, it’s not even always as the primary soloing instrument, but one of many adding to the texture of the piece. And so, the only word that needs translation from this album is the title itself: Takk means thank you.

And what a thank-you it is, whether this album is meant to be directed to life itself, or god, or loved ones, the entire album is packed with beauty and a magical sense of thankfulness for all that is around us. At least that’s what I feel when I hear it.

Today I needed to experience the great outdoors. It was an absolutely beautiful, clear, cold day in Vancouver, and I had only been out to buy groceries and empty to compost bucket. I knew I would be listening to Takk... this afternoon, and that it’s not a terribly productivity inducing collection of songs, so I put my headphones on and journeyed out into my neighborhood before darkness would inevitably take over. It was a good plan. I’m sure that it didn’t hurt that I headed out during magic hour – just as the sun was beginning to set and bathe our icy streets in warm orangey light – but it also is true that noticing and imagining beautiful things is not an uncommon activity when Sigur Ros is in ear-range.

I took my camera, and even thought about making this one a photo blog, but alas my batteries died, and Beth took the card-reader on her Christmas vacation to Saskatoon. Perhaps another time with one of Sigur Ros's many fabulous records.

Takk… like the majority of Sigur Ros’s music is extraodinarily ethereal. I knew right away that they would have to make my listmas, and simply chose my favorite album. I’m sure my going out near dusk must have persuaded my mind to consider that this album expresses a kind of threshold experience. It can’t just be me either, since the cover art pictures a stencil of a person walking under an archway of tall plants. The songs themselves effortlessly bleed into one another, and as transitions are made within pieces, sometimes I’m not sure whether or not a new track has begun. The music on this album creates a mystery that reminds me of Narnia’s wardrobe. "Glosoli" in particular has me wonder if the air around me is an illusion, and if I look close enough I might find a hatch into some magical kingdom. I feel like a little kid.

As I zig-zag through the streets just east of my house I’m full of wonder for the world around me. I'm terribly aware of my inner-child whenever a xylophone or the higher octave on the piano is played during the first several tracks. "Hoppipolla" makes me want to dance in the rain, as does the next track, "Med Blodnasir"; "Se Lest" makes me want to run through a park with a kite or maybe a dog; "Saeglopur" makes me want to climb a tree and yell at the top of my lungs; all of them make me wish I were listening to this CD in a giant sandbox or cushion-made fort. If A Rush of Blood to the Head was black and white, Takk… is the opposite, full of life and colour and magic. It’s really only a matter of time before a feature film decides to use Sigur Ros alone for their soundtrack. I’d watch it, no matter the premise or plot.

"Milano" strikes me as slightly more reflective than the other tracks, and though I can’t understand the lyrics I find myself thinking of Christmas Day in all of its chaos, remembering the beauty and love that I have experienced through my nephews and niece. (My, they are working their way into this blog more than I expected!). "Gong" changes pace and mood, adding to the dream-state a sense of threat, as all great fantasies must have.

There is a certain amount of energy that is kept up throughout the album until "Advari", which plays more like a lullaby, and Takk… retains this mellower sound through to the end (even when "Svo Hljott" gets huge with sound it feels rather sleepy). That’s ok by me though, as I’ve returned home to warm my circulation-challenged fingers and toes. I watch the world fade to darkness from the heated side of the window, curled up in blankets. It’s as though my Takk… experience was only a dream, and it has coaxed me back to sleep only to wake up to a more familiar reality. All this time we have been searching the backs of our closets for secret entrances, when all we needed to do was put Takk... on the stereo.

#7) Coldplay: A Rush of Blood to the Head, 2002

2009-12-27T15:52:00.000-08:00

Somehow I can’t believe this album came out this decade, it feels so long ago! It is so far my earliest album on the list, and like Hot Fuss has a particularly nostalgic effect on me. Without a doubt, Coldplay has been one of the most successful bands of the Ohsies, releasing four single-packed LP’s starting in 2000 with Parachutes, and completing the era with Viva La Vida or Death and All His Friends in 2008. With no hints that they’ll be stopping anytime soon, Coldplay could very well go on to be the next U2 and find themselves in the mainstream for another 20 years or more, like it or not.

But band history and predictions aside, let’s listen to the album at hand. I’m not sure how much I’m being influenced by the artwork on the cover when I say this, but I find that Politik has me dreaming in black and white. The song seems to state the boundaries in entering dialogue with the album. “Give me time and give me space, give me real, don’t give me fake…” And to the rhythm of the whole band pounding out 8th notes between every verse I put some breakfast together, heeding the call to open up my eyes (or ears as the case may be). And like a good introduction, a hint of the conclusion rounds off the first track with the beautiful line, “but give me love over this”.

I’m finishing up eating and sit with my cup of coffee as In My Place, which is a very good song for drinking coffee, because a good cup of joe makes me feel quite comfortable wherever I may be. My only complaint is that I ran out of milk, so I used soy beverage instead. I should have had it black. I’m going to sit and enjoy this song before I start in on the many “to-do’s” on my list.

Dishes are done to God Put A Smile Upon Your Face. This has often been my favorite track on the album, and I can remember listening to this in my old office at the church in New Westminster as I attempted to plan ridiculous games for teenagers. Somehow the song would be a reminder to give everyone a chance to be great, because “when you work it out, I’m worse than you…” I’m still not so great at that though.

And although The Scientist has become the dreaded piano line that everyone learns to play because of it’s simple chords, I will always remember it as what made me fall in love with Coldplay in the first place. Before ever buying the whole album, I actually went out and paid for a single of this song. (Yes I went out, and bought a cd with only 3 songs on it! These were the years before the iTunes store was something I had discovered). Full of grief and longing, and closely connected in my brain to the haunting music video. And as a note, the pictures in my head are all in black in white, even though the video was shot if colour. Don’t ask me to explain that.

Even though we are 7 years later, I still react to Clocks like an overplayed song. I guess this is one of the downsides to listening to albums from a period when I still spent a great deal of time listening to the radio. Even when the song began to fall from the heights of radio-play, it was used it countless movies and trailers, and later even other songs! I’m not sure I can ever again be not sick of this song. Strangely though, I realize as I’m singing along to the bridge (“nothing else compares…”) that it’s the first time I’ve opened my mouth and sung, even though I’m the only one home.

When Daylight begins, I’m half expecting colour pictures to emerge in my head, but they don’t until Green Eyes. There is something about this song that feels green, far beyond the eyes in discussion. Maybe it’s the acoustic guitar that I feel like I’ve been waiting for. As I’m moving around the kitchen, attempting to clean some mystery items out of the fridge, I make two discoveries. 1) There is beer. At the back of the fridge. I was so sure we were out. 2) There is milk! In the door! I run to the sink, dump out the dregs of my soy-tainted coffee and start grinding some beans for a second try.

I wait for the coffee to brew and sort my recycling as I croon along to Warning Sign, another former favorite track. So sentimental and regretful, and it’s pretty easy to sing lines like “I miss you so,” in a big empty house.

All of Rush of Blood tends to be very image-full for me. The title track clearly brings to mind two moments from cinema. The first is fairly obvious: What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, when the whole album sits outside on the couch watching their family home burn down. The second is related by theme: in Forest Gump when Jenny is found throwing rocks at the house where she grew up. Both are statements of love, revenge, justice, and simply moving forward out of pain and sorrow. This song for me is like a really good monologue that paints a picture not only of the speaking character, but the implied 2nd person. In other news, my coffee is much better now.

The fact that Coldplay named their album for this song suggests we look at all the songs through this lens. The album itself is carefully crafted, and far more than just a product of a “rush of blood to the head”. Yet, each moment on the album is a product of great passion and tends to build up a bit of a rush for the listener. Ultimately, the album seems to ask me a question: What will I do with my passion? What does any of my anger or love or empathy or sadness accomplish at all, until I decide to do something about it?

And as if Chris expected me to get to this place, Amsterdam comes as a word of encouragement, even if I can’t help but question whether there’s a note of sarcasm: “time is in on your side… it’s no cause for concern…” Is there time? And if there is, what’s worth it? Big questions and good questions, as any great album should ask. Which is exactly what A Rush of Blood to the Head is.

#8) Justin Timberlake: FutureSex/LoveSounds, 2006

2009-12-26T23:09:00.001-08:00

So now it is officially official: I am behind. Christmas Day was a lot more tiring than I thought it would be, and blogging was simply not an option at the end of it. Have no fear though, the list will go on, and if I must I will spend all of New Year’s Day counting down to #1.

Although I knew quite early that this would make my list, I haven't had the chance to listen to it straight through in the last month, so tonight after work I listened, sitting on my bed, drinking lemon ginger tea (because for Christmas, I got a cold) as I wrote this blog. My first thought as I began was remembering a conversation I recently had with my niece. She insisted that Timbaland’s real name is “Justin Timberland”, just like Justin Timberlake. I don't think she can fully tell the two apart! And why should she be able to, with the incredible partnership they built up on this album?

Right from the get-go FutureSex/LoveSounds (the song and album) is like nothing we had ever heard before from a boy-band member, or from Justin himself. It has darker and sexier tones, that are only given more weight by Timbaland’s heavy bass and diverse sounds. And then, as if he needed to state the obvious, Justin announces that he has brought Sexy Back. As hot as this track was the first time I heard it on the radio, it packed way more of a punch on the album. Naturally, it became one of the biggest dance tracks of the decade, by making each and every one of us want to bring some part of sexy back, in any small way we can.

Sexy Ladies comes off sounding really cocky, but then he gets away with it by admitting it: “Now it might sound cocky, but is it really cocky if you know it’s true?” Fine. You’re forgiven. I'll even let you put "sexy" in the title of two of your songs back to back. Who the heck can get away with that?

All of a sudden, I realize I must put joking aside. Throughout FutureSex/LoveSounds, the Timb's use “interludes” and “preludes” to tie songs together, and therefore contains some of the best transitions on a pop record. For example the Let Me Talk to You prelude at the end of Sexy Ladies that leads into My Love is so boss, I actually forget how the whole track goes until it starts up. And then when it does and I've already heard the chorus several times, I'm not bored by it because of how different it feels. The movement in the rhythmic synth riff is contagious, and I'm doing a sort of upper body dance that I don't think should ever been seen by human eyes.

And soon enough it happens all over again in LoveStoned/I Think She Knows. Half way through the song, instrumentation strips down to beatbox and strings, and then cuts out again to a solo guitar vamping on the same pattern. By the time Justin is singing again, it’s hard to remember that I’m actually listening to the same song - the same chorus even! When he does move on to What Goes Around…/…Comes Back Around, he has to make it unmistakably new, yet I feel as though the semi-continuity of orchestral strings still ties the two tracks together a bit. What Goes Around... sounds like a predictable pop song for once... until about 5.5 minutes in when you expect the song to round down, and instead and it shifts to an entirely different attitude. I stop feeling sorry for Justin, and begin to feel his anger.

And anger is a good thing to feel a little of in the dirty sound, which is exactly where we're headed with Chop Me Up. Timbaland's distorted echo is just nasty on this track. Mafia Three 6 makes an appearance and slows the bounce considerably, but gets nowhere near stopping anything. I wish the album could keep on going like this, instead of moving to Damn Girl, which sticks out like a sour thumb. It’s not that it’s a bad track. It’s a lot of fun, but it takes me a while to get into the old school groove and harmony after half an album of Timbaland’s unique and futuristic sounding influence.

But don’t worry, Timb's back with Summer Love. I am strutting all over the kitchen, living room, down the stairs, wherever with this one. And although the next song, Until the End of Time, has a completely different tone, once again an incredibly crafted transition prepares me and takes me there, without me even realizing it. The album is funneling down into a new thought and sound, and maybe conclusion, but there's no forced-ness or awkwardness about it.

Loosing My Way comes across as far more humble than the rest of this sexy and confident album, although Justin gives himself the character named George. This one is saturated with MJ influence, complete even with a children’s choir. “Can anybody hear me, cause I can’t seem to hear myself…” is a prayer for help and forgiveness, which takes a moment to sink into, but ends up believable.

Another Song (All Over Again) is the only other track on the album (other than Damn Girl) that is not produced by Timbaland. And yet here I think it works a little better. At the end of the album, it hits me as a very honest track: After he has been a love god in his own eyes, bringing sexy back and the whole bit, ultimately he’s left as a boy who’s messed up and is begging for a second chance.

Another Song is very far from where we began FutureSex/LoveSounds, but one that was made by a journey of transitions. Just as each track is crafted to perfection, the album is shaped in such a way that I do want to put the album on all over again to see just how they did it. However, I have 7 more albums to listen to, so a repeat will have to wait.

#9) The Killers: Hot Fuss, 2004

2009-12-25T00:47:00.000-08:00

I had almost forgotten that these songs even made up an album because of how often they would show up individually on so many of my playlists. How did it make it's way on to this list? I blame shuffle. Nearing the end of the semester I rode the bus home with my ipod in, when "Smile Like You Mean It" started playing, and a flood of memories overtook me. I realized that Hot Fuss had to become a contender, and it kept playing on my iPod the rest of that final week of school.

On a general note, the Killers represent a very important aspect of the Ohsies for me: a return to all things 80's. I for one, never really left them, having drawn most of my ideas of teenage-hood from the brat pack. Yet, for the wider culture, decades tend to need an extra 10 years to cool off and come back into style; we had to say goodbye to the 90's before we could re-appreciate the big hair, big sleeves and big shoulders of the 80's. But soon enough, we saw Ray-bans, mustaches, and synthesizers swing back into popularity, and all three were at least partially due to Brandon Flowers.

Anyway, on the bus last week, after I decided to let Hot Fuss have it's chance, the opening helicopter of "Jenny is a Friend of Mine" yanked me from my present state to the same physical spot roughly 6 years ago. For a few years during my undergrad I had the same schedule every Friday: After Saxophone masterclass I would run to the bus loop, catch the 99 B-line, transfer at Broadway Station, skytrain to New West, and literally sprint up the hill to the church where I ran a youth group in the evening, arriving just in time to let volunteers in and frantically set up for the event. Why does this matter? Because I learned to sympathize with many kinds of killers... no, actually, it's because Hot Fuss became one of the few albums that had a high enough energy level to pump me up for the night and to supply an uphill-sprint soundtrack.

The first four tracks are non-stop, and in perfect 80's form are complete with epic, sing-a-long-able choruses and nearly British accents. "Mr. Brightside" begs to be yelled out with not a little bit of anger, and "Somebody Told Me" is so catchy that it's dangerous to end with ever, or else you'll be singing it for the rest of your days. That's why it is couched in the middle of an album, by the way. I'm sure of it.

"All These Things That I've Done" seems to be a turning point on the album, and it holds a variety of turning points within it. I almost feel like it's an album within an album, when it cuts down to the building harmonies on "I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier", and then returns to the earlier "but don't you put me on the back burner..." lines. At first it sounds like the album is finally chilling out, but really this track has as much energy as the first four combined, and we realize that we've simply been working our way up to this one.

But they couldn't just keep going, so Andy, You're a Star significantly slows the tempo while still creating a sense of eager anxiety, until we get major chords in the chorus. And then soon enough it works it's way into incredible combination of synth-pop licks and tamborine in the On Top intro, which makes me feel like I'm ready for anything. "We don't need to satisfy tonight" becomes my mantra going into youth group, as the album turns to "Change Your Mind" which mostly just keeps me moving.

"Believe Me Natalie" makes me forget that the horns it uses are fake. For one of the only times ever, I just don't care. I just love all the tom beats. And as we approach the end of the album, "Midnight Show" keeps a high energy, but unfortunately there is nothing else about this song that I can get into. It almost sounds like a rip of a bad 80's track. Maybe I just don't like all the innuendo, but for whatever reason it's my least favorite track on the album.

Still, one complaint ain't bad, and when it counts Hot Fuss pulls together a great conclusion with "Everything Will Be Alright"; yet another important mantra when working with teens. Flower's distorted voice has become a strong trigger for remembering much of our nearly past decade, and I don't think that's such a bad thing either.

#10) Amy Winehouse: Back to Black, 2007

2009-12-23T22:53:00.000-08:00

Why yes, this is my most embarrassing album on the list, thanks for asking! But as hard as I tried, I couldn’t seem to leave it off. Even though I don’t think we will ever hear anything remotely interesting or intelligent from her again. Even though I think in many ways, the album is a humongous fluke, and should not have gained the popularity it did. Even though Amy Winehouse herself really does not deserve to be on anyone’s top list of anything. Here she is, paving the way for the end of this decade, for white girls from Britain making good soulful music, like Adele and Duffy - who I enjoy far more - but must recognize that they probably would not have made it into the mainstream without Ms. Winehouse

I have decided to not spend a great deal of time in defense of why any particular album is on my list. However, there are two specific things that I must draw your attention to that also act as points of defense. The first is the quality of production. Back to Black gives us an old Motown sound and feel that works, even with Amy’s foul-mouth and bad attitude. Other than Mark Ronson for production, I would give nearly all the credit to the backing band. The Dap-Kings are hands down the number one reason that your body can’t not groove out when you hear nearly any track on this album. Just listen to You Know I’m No Good, and its phat beats layered with down and dirty saxophone and cutting trumpet tones. If it were up to me, I think I would have started the album with this track, but it’s Rehab that actually kicks it off.

In a way, the album mirrors the way Winehouse effectively walked into the mainstream brashly and unapologetically. Rehab begins as if we’re already in the middle of a conversation, as if we’ve already accused Amy, without having any introduction to her.

It takes a couple tracks before completely blowing me away though. What it takes is Me and Mr. Jones, and a brand new use of the f-word: “f---ery”. Only she could get away with making up a word and working it into nearly every verse. It has made it’s way up to my all time favorite use of an obscenity in pop music, based on its originality alone!

A few minutes later as Just Friends is blaring on my stereo with that its super groovy offbeat Bari Sax and horn shots, I recognize that this is a rather appropriate album for the Christmas season, considering the stereotypical plethora of alcoholic beverages and mood lighting. This calls for a Hot Chocolate. Spiked of course. And I return to listen to the rest of the CD while I stare in vain at our house’s 2000 piece puzzle. I don’t think the drink will help with the puzzle, but it sure makes Amy sound even better. No wonder she doesn’t want to go back to rehab!

The title track, Back to Black is so wonderfully bitter, it’s hard not to seethe at any old fling that went wrong. A sample of inspiring lyrics: “We only said goodbye with words… you go back to her, and I go back to black”. Oh the glory of dramatic sexual tension.

And how else could she follow up that song but with Love is a Losing Game. Here Amy puts aside some of her rage, and sunk slightly into a classy depression. You know, the kind where a very sad woman sits alone in her apartment wearing a red party dress? Well, that’s what I imagine. And unless I get up and do something, I’m going to begin melancholing with the best of them. Why yes, I did just use that as a verb! Amy’s inspiring to expand my vocabulary through the art of BS. Thanks Amy!

Luckily I don’t need to get up after all, since Tears Dry on Their Own strikes up. It sort of reminds me of a really ironic TV show theme song. But in a good way… and before I know it, emotions shift again with Wake Up Alone. At this point the album starts to feel somewhat manic-depressive. Still, I can’t help but love the old-school vocal harmonies on this track.

Finally, her ending with He Can Only Hold Her works similarly to Rehab in beginning the album. I can’t help but think that the album isn’t trying to be an entire separate entity, but instead is just a continuation of the great R&B that already exists. I don’t want to move on to something new; I want to keep listening to good music all evening: I’m jumping all over my funk and soul playlists. Amy (and her crew) inspires me to return to that classic Motown sound I haven’t listened to for a long time, and that deserves a great many thanks.

#11) Death Cab for Cutie: Plans, 2005

2009-12-23T00:29:00.001-08:00

Honestly I know, they are more than a little emo, and Ben Gibbard isn’t the most amazing singer who has ever graced even an Indie band. However, there are moments that call for Death Cab above anything else. Recently, I arrived home to Beth, who had been writing most of the day and was beyond tired and fed up, and asked me to put some music on that was neither depressing nor upbeat. I had to scroll through (and suggest) several artists before we settled on this particular album. It was perfect.

Now, I do realize that to some they could be considered depressing, but their music is not so reflective that I tend to curl into fetal when it’s on, losing all hope in life like I do with say, oh, Damien Rice for example. Interesting that I say that, because one of the strongest themes on plans seems to be growing older, and expectations not being met. That sounds pretty fetal in theory, but it turns out sounding more thoughtful and less self-pittying than fetal normally allows.

Getting to the music, Marching Bands of Manhattan is the best way this album could have started. It builds up anticipation inside of me, not necessarily for the rest of the album, but for anything - anything - to happen. Something about the mix of instrumentation and timing give me an inner sense of purpose, even with lines like “sorrow drips you’re your heart through a pinhole… your love is gonna drown”. Perhaps these lines are warnings for my increasingly Emo music taste in the middle of this decade. Yes, I was listening to Dashboard Confessional too, and no you won’t find them on the list. (On another note, I have brushed my hair over my face in a rather effective emover for the event of writing this blog, and I do believe it is helping.)

Next comes a string of great tracks beginning with Soul Meets Body and reaching a sort of climax with the acoustic I Will Follow You into the Dark. Quick side note: my favorite lyric on Soul Meets Body is “I know our filthy hands can wash one another’s and not one speck will remain”. In between these include a track of nostalgia (Summer Skin) and another of melancholy thoughtfulness (Different Names…) before the chord pattern strikes up for I Will Follow You into the Dark; a title and chorus that are hinted at earlier with lines like, “but if the silence takes you, then I hope it takes you too,” and later echoed in the weaving of two central themes: death with love.

I have often thought the album sort of dips down to a low point until it hits What Sarah Said, but I noticed “Your Heart is an Empty Room” this time. For the first time I recognized its stunning beauty next to I Will Follow You into the Dark, potentially offering another response to the end of a relationship. It seems to be an outsider's point of view on a relationship, with the opinion that one does have the opportunity to start fresh, as awful as it may feel.

Crooked Teeth was probably the biggest single from this record, and I honestly cannot tell you why. It’s a little fun, but the number of times I skip this track far outweigh the number I sit and listen. Maybe because by this point I am only waiting for What Sarah Said: my highlight of the album. Here we finally discover how the album's title Plans, works. “And it came to me then that every plan, is a tiny prayer to father time…” Written from the perspective of a loved one sitting in the waiting room of an Intensive Care Unit, this beautiful track hit me hardest during the summer of 2006 when I watched my good friend question daily for weeks whether his wife would make it out of VGH. She did, but I still can instantly see his worn, unshaved face when I hear Gibbard almost whisper, “love is watching someone die.”

Then, there is just enough musical interlude to force you to reflect on the implicit question that will eventually be explicitly sung: “who’s gonna watch you die?” Not accusing or mean in anyway. Ben almost sounds like he actually cares about me.

And he does. Well, he cares enough to cushion the album with a couple more songs that pull me out of “what Sarah said” and not remain fetal the rest of my day. Not that Brothers on a Hotel Bed doesn’t deserve some thought and interest in it’s own right, but at the moment I’m tired, and can’t talk too long of beds without climbing into one. Basically it’s more on the obvious themes of the album, and it’s catchy.

And then the album ends. With Stable Song, which is really not much more than a somewhat un-striking yet appropriate ending. Perhaps a little too self-aware with an opening line like, “time for the final bow”, but I forgive it fairly easily, because just as the song admits in it’s conclusion, “the gift of memory’s an awful curse, with age it just gets much worse, but I won’t mind.”

Ps. I do realize that I am now officially over a day behind in this blogging project. I might try to catch up with myself, but I also might just ignore it and end on the 1^st of January. I got over my unmet expectations, and hope you can too. ;)

Peace,

Danice

#12) Danger Mouse: The Grey Album, 2004

2009-12-21T12:45:00.001-08:00

Everything about it sounds like a gimmick. I mean, really: a cappella rhymes from Jay-Z’s Black Album layered over looped samples from The Beatles’ classic White Album (without permission from EMI) was destined to draw some kind of controversy. And what an interesting controversy it was, bringing up the increasingly relevant questions of sampling, plagiarism, and ultimately, who deserves credit for what in the music industry.

I find it a particularly good question to ask in the context of this album, considering that Jay-Z is not bound to make a clear reference of every quote he adopts into his rap. Rap is all about reference. There’s no liner note in the Black Album that says “insane in the membrane” is a Cypress Hill line, frankly because that would be ridiculous and unnecessary. Don’t hear me arguing for any particular ethic on the subject. I just think it’s an interesting question to ask – where is the line drawn when it comes to copyright?

Personally, it’s difficult for me to see Danger Mouse’s work as anything other than an art form. I recently completed a class where we all had to work on a creative project and present our art to one another. A pattern I quickly noticed was how many of the students had chosen fairly rigid forms to create forced restrictions for themselves to work within, such as the sonnet form. On the Grey Album, Danger Mouse is only allowing himself to work with two albums from very different artists, and the results are stunning. Who would have thought that someone could mix Jay-Z with The Beatles in a way that would be even listenable? Yet here, a whole collection of songs is completed, and for the most part, they work very well, meanwhile making an interesting comment on racism and mainstream pop-culture.

I was amazed at how often I completely forgot that it was the White Album being sampled; the song felt so cohesive as if meant to originally sound like that. Even songs that were originally awkward grew comfortable for me, like 99 Problems over Helter Skelter - two very strong tracks on their own. Most of the listening of this album was on my iPod since my roommates aren’t huge fans of rap, and also because I got these new Sennheiser headphones that I wanted to spend some time with. Consequently, I was doing a lot of transit riding and walking to the Grey Album. Several times I felt a little like I was in a Black and White music video – making the album’s title even more appropriate considering Vancouver this time of year. Seeing the city around me without color hardly took a stretch of my imagination.

Yet, as grey as it was, I couldn’t help but lift my chin a little higher, walking to Jay-Z’s cocky rhymes, and sometimes brushing that dirt of my shoulder. At one point I was reflecting on how I felt about Jay-Z regularly using a play on the (mispronounced) name of the biblical God, “Jehovah”. I’ll admit, sometimes I’m a little uncomfortable with it, but I couldn’t help but notice how he contrasts pride with vulnerability by referring to himself by his birth name, Shawn, especially in December 4th.

I will always remember this record as a high point of the Ohsies music in that it combined two of the biggest names in music of the decade (Danger Mouse also created Gnarles Barkley), with one of the biggest bands of the century, and is simply hard not respect. A lot.

Twelve Days of Listmas

2009-12-14T13:12:00.000-08:00

Surely you’ve heard of the 12 days of Christmas, but I am about to transform your experience of the holiday season with the 12 days of Listmas. No one can seem to figure out what 12 days the never-ending drink-induced song is even referring to, but I promise, this will be simple. The last 12 days of the ‘00’s - or “Ohsies” as I’ve taken to call them - will each be marked by a record of the decade: Beginning on December 20th, Going on Record will be counting down the 12 albums that have most shaped (in my own personal experience of course), this soon-to-be past decade, ending with my choice for the number one album of 2000-2009 on December 31st, just in time to begin a new era of recorded music.

I know that this is an extremely critic-esque thing to do, and the last thing I am trying to do is judge the albums I listen to. But the truth is, when recently asked what my favorite part of December is, I without doubt answered, “all the year end lists!” That’s right, not the tree, or the snow, and especially not the consumerism and terrible music, but the lists. Right around the beginning of this month, lists began to emerge on Music websites and blogs everywhere for not only the best of 2009, but also the entire decade! Oh, how I have enjoyed picking them apart in true argument and jest! And so, it’s really about time I made my own for others to apply their judgments and opinions toward.

So here we go. Prepare yourselves, and be sure to stop by on and after December 20th!

Enjoy,

Danice

John Mayer: "Heavier Things", 2003

2009-12-07T14:11:00.000-08:00

So let's face it. This album hasn't even touched my list of albums that I've wanted to write about. I don't know about you, but I got so sick of John Mayer right around the time when Waiting on the World to Change was playing everywhere, always. I really haven't spent a great deal of time with him since then, although I was reminded that I don't fully dislike him when his rendition of Human Nature was possibly my favorite part of MJ's memorial.

All this to say that I surprised myself when I got a craving for Heavier Things while sitting in the library Tuesday afternoon, headphones on, attempting to find related books on the subject of God's immutability (or mutability as the case may be). It was a really fantastic choice. As soon as Clarity began I found myself transported to an earlier, idealist state of mind - I could even imagine the paper I was working on being somehow personally significant. I think I'll blame Roy Hargrove's trumpet lines. They're so full of joy. Only downside: It is very difficult to sit silently in the library while Johnny is yelling "someday I'll fly, someday I'll soar!" in Bigger than My Body.

It took a while, but about three quarters of the way through Something's Missing I pull myself out of the books, struck by my appreciation for Mayer's transitions. Whether they are instrumental breaks (like the hot trumpet break in Clarity) or a wicked bridge like in Bigger than My Body, or in this case Something's Missing's outro: "How come everything I think I need always comes with batteries?" He finds a way of moving to a new thought or expression with a lot more ease than I tend to.

Which brings me to what I most appreciate about this album: the searching element. The whole thing is directed at the internal, and full of questions about the heavier things in life. What really matters anyway? What does it all mean? Is numb really the new deep? Even when he tries to convince us in New Deep that he's given up on questioning the meaning of life in order to just chill out and have fun, he's a lot more believable when he sings "look at the stars, don't it remind you just how feeble we are?"

In general though, the album mainly is acting as a catalyst for me and the conscious world. I flip through a few books and bounce my chair in time, not getting too caught up in the lyrics. Still I can't help but notice how even his stereotypical romantic ballads and pop tunes are framed in a bigger picture and question of purpose and meaning. Split Screen Sadness has almost none of the normal elements of a break-up song, probably because it's not entirely clear that it is a break-up song, but regardless of what the rest of the story behind the song is, it's terribly beautiful. For a long time it was my favorite of the album.

The only song on Heavier Things that doesn't quite fit for me is Only Heart. Way too pop and electric on an album of diverse, but often acoustic instrumentation: sparse piano licks, rhythm guitar, brass, ect. Not to mention in an album of searching it sounds too simple, too easy. Like his semi-conclusion at the end of the album, when he seems to decide on a Karmic view of love and life. It's a continuation of his earlier allusion to life-cycling in the ever heart-warming Daughters (which is in honesty a little much for me most days). Karma. It was inevitable - what else could he conclude? After his questions and reflections, all he can believe is that it must be worth something; what goes around must come back around, otherwise why even try? The just plain living-of-life requires some kind of faith. Maybe this is more true for those who register as NF on the Myers Briggs scale, but it's still worth saying and exploring in an album so appropriately named.

Peace,

Danice

32 Flavors of Whine

2009-12-01T00:21:00.000-08:00

You can probably tell that I’ve reached that point in the semester when assignments have piled up and I have fallen behind enough to make blogging (along with other things) a guilt-ridden and restless activity. Still, I have a fear that if I don’t post anything before December begins, I just might never post again. Sure, this may be as irrational as my fear of squirrels, but I’d rather not prove nor disprove that theory, and instead I'll go ahead and throw something into the cosmic space of the internet before November officially comes to a close.

I must confess, I don’t have an album to listen to with you this time around. It’s not that I haven’t been listening to albums lately, but I haven’t been paying them the attention they deserve. Still, there's something I want to acknowledge that has recently affected my listening experience.

About a month ago I complained about iTunes’ rating system, and how it would not allow me to rate albums separately from the songs that are a part of them. It seems things have changed with iTunes 9.0.2., and my only possible explanation is that I have a reader with enormous power sway in the world of my favorite digital media manager. Then again, maybe I just spoke too soon.

There are actually a number of features in the new iTunes update that make for an even fuller listening of albums. First of all, they have brought back the option of viewing your songs in the context of their particular album by simply clicking a side-arrow which displays the artwork of the cover. A clean single line separates songs on one album from those on another. It’s beautiful.

And now for the best part: Under the visible album cover is a number of stars (out of five) that do not necessarily match the average of the album’s individual song ratings. It does rather courteously offer you in fuzzy grey stars, a suggested rating that is based on an average. However, if you choose a greater or lesser number of stars, there are no complaints or consequences of any kind. And vice versa(!): If I rate an album before rating individual songs, iTunes will suggest the album’s number of stars for any unrated track in grey. How thoughtful!

Finally, 9.0.2. has also added an Artist scroll bar directly to the left of the Artwork pop-out display tab. This fabulous feature allows us to browse our artists without moving away from a particular track that we’re listening to or working with, or creating extra playlists to do this work for you. Not to mention, searching multiple albums of one particular artist has become that much easier.

So there you have it. I take a great amount of pleasure in eating my words. Thanks to iTunes for listening to my advice and offering their best update yet!

Peace out,

Danice

…Someday you are going to get hungry, and eat most of the words you just said…
- Ani DiFranco

Stars: "Set Yourself on Fire", 2004

2009-10-26T18:12:00.000-07:00

It really wasn’t so many years ago that Set Yourself on Fire was left on repeat on my stereo for several months, and even now I don’t feel as though I’ve exhausted its effect on me. The sentimentality of the record is varied in such a way that it seems to fit any circumstance: it’s great on my iPod, on a road trip, or while I’m at home studying. Or like this Friday, cranking out the stereo as I prepared brunch for myself and a friend.

Before I say too much, I should mention that as soon as I put this album on I am automatically in danger of completely contradicting my philosophy of albums and the intention of this blog. The reason being I could quite easily spend the entire post on the first track, Your Ex-Lover is Dead. I’ll try to keep it short. Your Ex-Lover is Dead provides a window through which to view the rest of the songs of the album, and sets the tone for what the album (and the band in general) is best at: break up songs.

The song showcases Stars’ two lead vocalists Torquille and Amy, by having them play the parts of two departed lovers. Before we know anything of the intended setting, a string section and a cello line sets a mood that paints a picture in my head. And even though I'm sure it's influenced by my foreknowledge of the lyrics, I’m immediately transported to a rainy evening on a cobblestone street, trying to hail a taxi.

It’s also hard not to hear this song without mental pictures of the film, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, but I’m positive that’s only because the music video makes pretty clear references to it. Other great things about this track: the shift between a lighter 6/8 feel characterized by the orchestral strings and a more punchy every-beat-emphasized feel in 3; along with great bitter-sweet lines like, “I’ll write you a postcard, I’ll send you the news from the house down the road from real love”.

But moving on to the title track, Set Yourself on Fire. It’s a fairly smooth transition actually, partially because the intro of the song keeps a meter in 6/8 before snapping back into common time for the verses. What this song does really well is move us from the beauty of the first track into further exploration of failed relationships through the rest of the album by unifying the world through experience of the “one thing”, which of course is up for interpretation, but not really.

I begin to pull out ingredients for hash-browns, but about 3 minutes into the song I’m tempted to crawl back into bed to add to my “20 years of sleep”. Thankfully, by the time I convince myself, Ageless Beauty kicks in and reminds me that Sarah will be at my door in about 20 minutes, and I need to chop some freaking potatoes! So I do, to a slightly more poetic and hopeful view of love and life (“we will always be a light”).

Reunion comes next, reminding me that I have one myself to look forward next year: Ten years past high-school. I’m not so sure that I’ll go, but for now I’ll enjoy this song about nostalgia for old crushes and youthfulness.

Then, once again, Stars play off their duet capabilities in The Big Fight. These are always my favorite songs of Stars. This song is relaxed and groovy, and even though I’m spending my time boiling potatoes, I feel suave. I kind of imagine myself sitting by a fire with a stiff drink in hand. But then the mood breaks a little when I picture Torque and Amy acting out their disagreements through a dance off during the long instrumental outro…

All I can say about What I’m Trying to Say is that I find it impossible not to sing along with. It captures an awkwardness of relationships that songs rarely can without sounding awkward themselves. “I am trying to say… what I want to say… without having to say… I love you” So great.

Sarah arrives and I make her help with all the brunch that hasn’t been finished, while I also lose my focus on the music playing in the background. Instead of ignoring my friend to blog, I wait and put the CD on at work during the evening shift.

One More Night (Your Ex-Lover Remains Dead) gets even deeper into the complexities of end-of-relationship phenomena: The last night together. It’s dark, and I love it. I also love how it’s back to back with Sleep Tonight, the one fairly simple, love song on the album. Yet even on Sleep Tonight, we’re aware of what we’re ignoring: “with buried heads we both forget all of the past and its regret”. Still, “all the love’s alive tonight”. Maybe it is still possible to love after all of the disappointment and pain that we’ve been experiencing.

Nearing the end of the album, we get a brief picture of a beginning of a relationship: The First Five Times. I’m not nearly as into it this time, but in the past it’s been one of my favorites to bounce around to.

He Lied About Death is just plain angry. I have never loved this song. Sometimes I yell to it a bit, and it was a little fun listening to at work, but for the most part I don’t see how it fits with the rest.

Finally the trio completes it all: Celebration Guns, Soft Revolution, and Calendar Girl. We have another clear return to the strings and brass that began the album, creating a bit of a nostalgic and reflective tone. Next Soft Revolution jumps back in to the familiar steady beat to get us ready for the ultimate end-of-album ballad (Calendar Girl) that spends some time repeating that, after all is said and done, I am alive.

So in the end, Set Yourself on Fire is relatively hopeful and thankful for life, allowing the title to take an ironic tone. Maybe we can survive our broken hearts and failed attempts at love. And even when it feels like we won’t, we have a great album to relate to.

Peace,

Danice

U2: "War", 1983

2009-10-20T12:02:00.000-07:00

Yep, I began my little project with U2. Not a huge surprise – they have made a lot of albums to choose from, and I have been listening to them for as long as I can remember. I still have a school assignment that I did in grade 4 that states if I could be anything when I grow up it would be Bono. Interesting.

So War was an easy choice because it has always been one of my favorites for its high energy and ability to stick to one theme without ever boring me. In 42 minutes, we – along with Bono, The Edge, Larry, and Adam – explore a whole gamut of aspects and effects of the album’s namesake: war.

Setting: one morning getting ready for work. Sunday Bloody Sunday woke me up quickly, rattling off machine-gun-esque snare beats and painting clear pictures of physical and relational pain (“bodies strewn across the dead end street…” “mother’s children, brothers, sisters torn apart…”).

Justifiably angry and loud, SBS gears up our frustration just in time for Seconds, which reflects more particularly of the prospect of nuclear war in a similar fashion. I’m up, making coffee, getting dressed, and sporadically punching the air in time with Larry.

Next comes New Years Day, with the first glimmer of hope on the record (“though torn in two, we can be one”). There is a reason it became the album’s first single and most successful track: It’s full of passion, and begs to be sung along with. I break from all routines at this point, turn up the volume and pull out the liner notes to sing along more confidently.

With such a tough act to follow, Like a Song… falls slightly flat, and I take a bathroom break. I guess album listening takes a bit of patience, or maybe it makes me appreciate the other songs even more. Something’s got to keep the album moving I guess, but this feels forced and moralistic. Some decent lines, but I don't need any more convincing – I’m ready for something else.

Drowning Man vies once again for my attention, and I sit down to finish my coffee. There’s something eerie and refreshing about Bono singing low in his range, and it creates a dramatic moment when he finally does jump back up to that more familiar octave. I love how the most depressing track title gives way to lyrics that are possibly the deepest expression of love and promise on the album.

I’m going to fast-forward through the next couple, but not because I skipped any tracks. The Refugee, Two Hearts Beat as One, Red Light and Surrender keep a high enough energy for me to get some breakfast and pack my stuff without asking too much of my attention. The one exception is a few minutes in to Red Light during the trumpet solo, and when it continues to scream out as Bono sings out repeatedly, “I give you my love”. Surrender is actually one of my favorites songs on the album, partially because it fits so well without being so directly about a literal war. I haven’t heard this song in a while, since I’m not likely to hear it outside of the album context.

Finally, “40”. U2 demonstrates here that they really know how to tie an album together. Starting with a bang, and ending with space for contemplation, a formula they also use on The Unforgettable Fire book-ending with A Sort of Homecoming and MLK.

But on War the relationship between the first and last song is much more than a shaping of album mood. Sunday Bloody Sunday and “40” both contain the album’s driving question: How long do we have to sing this song? But the difference is that at the start, we can’t see beyond today (“tonight we can be as one” is the most hopeful line in the entire song), and by the time we journey through War, “40” is confident that though we may not know when, we will eventually sing a new song.

Peace,

Danice

Desperately Wanting

2009-10-19T12:49:00.000-07:00

An album is coming soon, I promise. And this post is relevant, emerging from my recent album listening. Today I discovered a new pet peeve.

Did you know that iTunes does not let you rate an album separately from song ratings, but gives it an average number of stars based on your rating of its songs. This is a problem. Don’t they realize that an album can be more (or less!) than the sum of its parts?

That was my lame music-snob-moment of the day. Am I the only one that this bothers? Possibly. But one deeply committed, involved iTunes user should be enough.

Peace,

Danice

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes!

2009-10-16T22:15:00.000-07:00

Change seems to be the theme of this October. And no, I’m not primarily referring to the trees outside my front porch, or anything else weather related. Even without the obvious, I seem to be surrounded by change: At work in last couple of weeks, I have said goodbye to two fantastic co-workers, and today was my boss’s last day. At home this month, two of my three housemates are moving out, and two new yet-unknown people will be taking their places. Along with my two housemates leaving, so has and will several pieces of furniture, which should add to the general feeling of change in my environment. On top of this, I am facing my final year at grad school with a fairly consistent hum of uncertainty about what comes next, reminding me that much more change is yet ahead.

And the change most worth talking about here: I am starting a blog. It terrifies me to think of making random thoughts so public, but maybe I need to own up to the things that come out of my mouth and brain.

I’ll try not to overwhelm you too much, focus my thoughts to a specific topic, namely, records. Not necessarily of the vinyl variety, but collections by artists of songs also known as albums. Since becoming an avid fan and user of iTunes earlier this decade, I have become aware of how my listening of music has dramatically shifted. When I like a band or artist it is no longer an automatic that I would go purchase an album since I could just go online and legally download the singles I like for $0.99 each. While I used to primarily hear songs either on the radio or in the context of their album, I’m now more likely to hear them in a new context of my own created playlists or a “party shuffle”. The mixtape has nearly replaced the original album.

So in short, I’m going to rebel against this shift, and intentionally stick with albums for a while. As much as possible I’ll be listening to whole records and writing about what I notice. I realize that some would say the album is a dying art and that I am living in the past. Could be. But even if the album is on it’s way out, I would like to spend some significant time with it before it’s dying breath.

Welcome to the space where I will write about my experience of record listening in an attempt to think more clearly about how and why we listen to music at all. I’ll do my best to not critique too much, but simply supply a narrative that may or may not persuade you to listen to albums along with me.

Peace,

Danice