Record Reviews: Fall Edition

I haven’t expressed my thoughts on any new music releases in a while, so here’s some quick hits without all the bullshit:

Okkervil River-The Stand Ins

The Stand Ins, a continuation of sorts to last year’s The Stage Names, shows a mature take on the often immature trappings of being in a touring rock band– a topic certainly familiar to the road-weary dudes in Okkervil River. Write about what you know, right?

Singer Will Sheff’s voice is akin to John Roderick of the Long Winters, and they also happen to share a knack for keen storytelling. The lyrics effortlessly convey all the themes of loneliness, isolation, exhaustion and fleeting relationships that are shared in all great road songs (like Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead Or Alive”, Bob Seger’s “Turn The Page”, or hell, even Tenacious D’s “The Road”.)

The instrumentation is quite varied, often accentuating the usual rock fare with the use of horns and strings, but never weighing down the arrangements with an unnecessary pastiche of sounds. I haven’t heard anyone do it this well since Neon Bible.

A late contender for best album of the year. Yeah, I said it.

Standout tracks: “Lost Coastlines”, “Blue Tulip”, “Pop Lie”, “On Tour With Zykos”.

TV On The Radio-Dear Science

Hot off the presses with a release date of just a few days ago, I’ve only listened to this album thrice the whole way through, but I’m already loving it. TVOTR’s back to their Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes form– hypnotic, throbbing beats overladen with simple, electro-funk melodies and topped off by stunning falsetto vocals.

This album doesn’t feel as heavy on the ambiance as their last, Return To Cookie Mountain. That definitely makes it more fun and infinitely more palatable. It’s good when a band decides not to overthink it and just lets the songs flow effortlessly.

Not to say that Dear Science doesn’t sound well-thought out, it’s quite the contrary– it’s a focused and precise refinement of the band’s aesthetic.

Another late entry to the albums of the year list.

Standout tracks: “Halfway Home”, “Dancing Choose”, “Golden Age”, “DLZ”.

Dr. Dog-Fate

I didn’t know much about Dr. Dog before listening to their new album, Fate. I gotta say, I’m a big fan. Much like Wilco as of late, there’s a timeless feel to their sound and production that borrows heavily from the Band, Dylan’s early electric work and Lennon’s solo catalog, all without sounding overtly derivative.

There’s a big contrast between the songs sung by vocalists Toby Leaman and Scott McMicken; the ladder especially stands out with a soulful, Joe Cocker-like growl that really elevates the songs past simple indie rock tributes to the height of ageless anthems.

I’m pretty sure that if you play this album for that old dude next door who stopped buying records after 1978 and has a jacket that perennially smells of weed, he would probably approve. He might even invite you over to get high and listen to some “real” records afterward.

Standout tracks: “The Breeze”, “Hang On”, “The Old Days”, The Ark”, “The Beach”.

Conor Oberst-S/T

It’s easy to see that Conor Oberst wanted a clean slate for his latest work– he dropped the Bright Eyes moniker for the first time in over a decade, moved to Mexico to record with a new set of musicians, didn’t record with longtime producer Mike Mogis, and elected to release the album on Merge instead of his own Saddle Creek/Team Love imprints.

It’s not so easy, however, to see why he would go to great lengths to remove himself from what’s become so familiar to him, especially when the record sounds inexplicably like a wonted Bright Eyes outing.

The production, however, is more bare-bones than his last release, Cassadega, and it actually helps the songwriting shine through a bit more this time. Oberst has always been a great lyricist and although he’s moved away from the blunt personal style of his youth to more ubiquitous and covert subjects, his phrasing and metaphors are still top notch.

Although this in not his best work, he’s always worth a listen.

Standout tracks: “Cape Canaveral”, “Get-Well-Cards”, “I Don’t Want To Die (In The Hospital)”.

Fleet Foxes-S/T

This album is here to fuck with me. Some of the songs on Fleet Foxes sound so much like At Dawn-era My Morning Jacket that a lawsuit from Jim James doesn’t seem entirely out of line.

The thing is, the songs on Fleet Foxes are still really good. They, in fact, seem to sound more like My Morning Jacket than My Morning Jacket has of late. So, I’m forced to face the age-old musical conundrum: Is it acceptable to embrace a band whose sound is so blatantly derivative of another band?

Well, in this case, the answer is yes. Especially since in my elder years I’m trying to live by the motto, “A good song is a good song, no matter what.” I mean, all music is derivative of something else, that’s how it works. I shouldn’t let minor details get in the way of enjoying a tune. Life’s too short.

Standout tracks: “White Winter Hymnal”, “Ragged Wood”, “Your Protector”.

Metallica-Death Magnetic

I’ve already expressed my love for metal and especially for Metallica’s output in the mid-to-late Eighties. So, when I heard that über-producer Rick Rubin was helming their new album and that it was going to be a return to past form, I got giddy. After all, Rubin produced the last few Slayer albums and they’ve been mercilessly brutal. Even his work with System Of A Down was admirable, just for the drum and guitar sounds alone.

So, the first time I sat down with Death Magnetic I felt a sort of nervous anticipation; bracing for the worst while desperately hoping for the metalhead in me to be blown away.

Well, as it turns out, my feelings lie somewhere in between. In many ways the album is a return to form– Kirk Hammet’s leads are once again featured on every song after being complete ly omitted on 2003′s St. Anger and the “snare drum in an aluminum trash can” sound that haunted said album is now thankfully absent. Even James Hetfield’s excessive vocal stylings have been finally restrained after reaching laughable levels, almost bordering on parody, on St. Anger. The lyrics are quintessentially metal (pain, depression, evil, death, rinse, repeat) as well. There’s even an extended instrumental, “Suicide & Redemption”, à la Ride The Lightning‘s “Call Of Ktulu”, Master Of Puppets‘ “Orion” or …And Justice For All‘s “To Live Is To Die.”

So while the songs are essentially satisfying to my innate metal aesthetic, they left me a bit flat. Never mind the fact that the mastered sound of the album has its problems, I just think I’ll probably never be as excited about this kind of music as I was when I was 15 years old. And that really has nothing to do with Metallica and everything to do with me getting older.

Standout tracks: “That Was Just Your Life”, “All Nightmare Long”, “The Judas Kiss”.

Things I Like, Part 2: Heavy Metal

Is there a genre of music as moronic as Heavy Metal?

Probably not.

The macho posturing, the deliberate aural strain, the obtuse doctrine of louder+ faster= better, not to mention the outlandish lyrical themes, the phony satanic idolatry, and who could forget, the assless leather chaps.

It’s all very silly. It’s what made This Is Spinal Tap so funny, after all.

And it’s exactly why millions of boys are drawn to it like moths to a flame. It’s quite possibly the most fitting soundtrack to male adolescence. Aggressive, rebellious and its lyrics are entirely comprised of sex, drugs, violence, oppression and the occult –things that a 13 year old boy finds fascinating and terrifying, all at once.

I was one of those boys. Heavy Metal, and more specifically, Thrash Metal –an amalgam of New Wave of British Heavy Metal and Hardcore Punk– resonated with me from the first distorted tritonal chord I heard. The Thrash Metal bands were not as flashy or reliant on the Dungeons & Dragons imagery as their brethren often was, instead focusing on musical prowess and a low-key persona. This lack of pretension appealed to me.

And what band was at the top of the Thrash Metal game? Metallica, of course. I mean, they had the word Metal in their goddam name! Their 1986 album, Master of Puppets, became a defining record for the genre and quite a revelation in my early musical life. No other band in the genre mattered as much to me. Of the big four of Thrash (Metallica, Slayer, Anthrax & Megadeth) Slayer was undoubtedly the heaviest, but the absurd Sigil of Bathomet imagery and the Nazi undertones definitely turned me off, Anthrax was a bit too playful and fratboyish and I always thought that Megadeth’s founder, and former Metallica member, Dave Mustain had a terrible singing voice and never lived up to his former bandmates.

Metallica, on the other hand, was a perfect blend of velocity, intensity and virtuosity. The title track off of Master of Puppets was a model representation of the band:

The song starts with a rhythmic staccato guitar riff stressed by drum and bass accents. That leads into a syncopated groove of the main theme that doesn’t let up for two verses, bridges and choruses until it reaches a Metallica staple: the instrumental interlude. Not only does this curveball waylay the listener, but it also sets up the crescendo to the anthemic lyrical summation of the song and the subsequent guitar solo. And just when you think the song might be over, it kicks back in with another verse, bridge and chorus that leads into a coda and ultimately into the maniacal laughs of the titular Puppet Master.

From the moment I heard that song, the sound of Metal was ingrained in the nucleus accumbens part of my brain, producing great pleasure and satisfaction whenever heard.

Even though Metallica never really recovered after the death of bassist Cliff Burton and every album since has been progressively worse¹, that sound has lived in my subconscious ever since. As my tastes moved to the Pacific NW in the early nineties, the Metal tinges that bands like Nirvana, Soundgarden and Alice In Chains showed helped quench my thirst for headbanging as did the Melvins, Guns N Roses, Primus, Rage Against The Machine, Quicksand, Helmet, Tool, Pantera, Kyuss, At The Drive-In, the Hope Conspiracy and Paint It Black for years to come.

As I started playing guitar around the age of 14, I learned that there’s nothing more fun to play than Metal, too. The beauty of a palm-muted, down-stroked, mid-scooped, distorted open E string on a cranked up amp is quite heavenly (or hellishly, rather; to keep with the theme). It’s akin to firing an AK-47 or wielding a thunder bolt, Zeus-style –something you just can’t get from playing Guitar Hero III, I assure you.

The feeling doesn’t fade with time either. Even just a few years ago, whenever my ex-roommate/drummer James and I would jam out in our basement, every session would eventually escalate to a crushing Metal riff-off, no matter how tamely we would start. The power is too alluring to keep from embracing it; I don’t know how anyone with an electric guitar can keep from wanting to unleash devastating riffage, it’s too much fun.

So don’t get me wrong, I love a folk ballad with a three part harmony and a flute solo too, but if you really want to get me going, I’m going to need double kick drums, Gibson Explorers through Marshall stacks, wah-wah pedals and a pissed off, Cookie Monster-sounding motherfucker with a fu-manchu screaming on top of it all.

If I have to give up my indie rock credentials for that, then count me out. I’ll be blasting “Fight Fire With Fire” in my ’67 Mustang…..

¹Although they did team up with Rick Rubin for their upcoming album, so let’s hope he can inject some metal back in their ever-hardening veins.

See Also - Things I Like, Part 1: Basketball