1977 Rerun: Rumours - Fleetwood Mac

So it seems that this is the season for break-ups among my friends, and having written on the more recent For Emma, Forever Ago by Bon Iver, I've decided to stick with the theme for one more post, and stray from my original order for the reruns.  Break-up albums have been doing alright lately, either by allowing an artist to reinvent their sound, like ...Little Broken Hearts did for Norah Jones, or bringing album sales on the map, not to mention help an artist shovel in the Grammys, like 21 did for Adele.  Forget lemonade, when life gives you a bad break-up, make some freaking good music.

So that brings me to 1977, the year of my all-time favourite break-up album: Fleetwood Mac's Rumours.  Although a 5-piece band, each member of Fleetwood Mac was in the midst of  struggling with personal failed relationship.  John and Christine McVie (the bassist and keyboardist respectively) were in the midst of divorce from 8 years of marriage; Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks were in an off period of their "on-again-off-again" relationship; and drummer Mick Fleetwood was reeling from discovering his wife cheating on him.  On top of all this, since the release of their 1975 self-titled album, the band was regularly shooting down dramatic rumours being circulated by the press; everything from deathly illnesses and love-children to a massive member change.  They were falling apart, and few of them could communicate with one another regarding anything other than the music they were working on.  The fact that Rumours was even created in the midst of all that relational stress is nothing but a miracle.

Even more miraculous is how Fleetwood Mac is able to maintain their poppy sound while so miserable.  The album appropriately begins Second Hand News, but instead of being used as a synonym for rumours, it is how the left lover feels after he's been replaced.  Still, there is almost happiness in the midst of frustration - as though he's trying to laugh off what has happened in order to deal with the grief.  The subtle yet clear Dreams plays next, and I can almost smell the tension that must have been in the studio as Stevie sings her own words about begrudgingly letting someone go, aching for her ex to be aware of "what (they) had, and what (they) lost".

Lindsey Buckingham gets the next word on Never Going Back Again, but although the title suggests he won't return to the relationship, this lyrically sparse track seems too relaxed and not angry enough to be a break-up song.  There is something else he won't return to, maybe because of what he learned in his now failed relationship with Nicks, or maybe not.  It's rather vague, but it seems to be more about coming to terms with himself than it does an angry break-up song.  Besides, soon enough we get something much closer to that in Go Your Own Way, also penned by Lindsey.  (For some unknown reason, I am on a first-name basis with these band members).  Don't Stop finds itself wedged between Lindsey's songs, with an incredibly bright take on moving on from a break-up, wanting both parties to just be happier with whatever comes next.

Nearing the end of a relatively happy side A, Rumours takes a turn with Songbird, one of the most beautiful and timeless love songs ever.  What makes it a break-up song more than anything else is the sadness in the tone of the singers voice, and this is something that necessarily is replicated when Songbird is covered by Eva Cassidy, Willie Nelson, or whoever might do it next.

It's always a stretch for me to flip the record over to The Chain, Rumour's most bitter song so far, and yet ironically, it also boasts some of the tightest harmonies between Lindsey, Stevie, and Christine.  The tightness of the entire band is made clear in the sexy You Make Loving Fun.  The bass line is sick, and the harmonies that echo Christine are perfect.  I am beginning to believe that Christine McVie might have been one of the best songwriters of the 70's (along with Stevie, of course).

I Don't Want To Know returns to the bitter playfulness that is in Second Hand News.  Similarly, the singer doesn't want to hold the other back, or "stand between (him) and love", but just wants everyone to get along and "feel fine".  But perhaps appropriately after this attempt at confidence, Oh Daddy is a somewhat pathetic attempt to recognize what mistakes the singer has made.  To be honest, I find this one to be a dud.  Anything with "daddy" as a repeated lyric is doomed.

Rumours, along with some of the relationships it wrestles with, come to a close with Gold Dust Woman, where the fictional woman is told to "pick up the pieces and go home", and the song ends with an extended instrumental outro seeming to noisily hold on and avoid an actual finish.  The only appropriate sound to immediately follow Gold Dust Woman is silence, during which I imagine all the band members quietly pack up their instruments and leave separately.  I'm sure it never actually happened that way, but even though the band hung together for a while longer in this formation, they were never able to make another album match the honesty, beauty, and frustration that this one did.


    

A Rant Turned Tribute

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

Lungs - Florence + The Machine, 2009

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.

Paul Simon: Graceland, 1986

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.

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

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

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

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.

John Mayer: "Heavier Things", 2003

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

Stars: "Set Yourself on Fire", 2004

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