Tapes 'n Tapes- Walk It Off

I wish someone would explain to me why Dave Fridmann sees fit to work with young, up and coming indie rock bands. I get that his aesthetic works with bands who need a shot in the arm, like Low and Sleater-Kinney, but he is definitely one of the more distinctive and obvious producing hands in the business today. With his piles of instruments and distorted, over-driven, and compressed sound, you never really know how a band will come through his wringer. This isn't so exciting and necessary for young bands, however. Both Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! and Tapes 'n Tapes released debut albums of effortless, self-assured indie rock that were some of the most exciting and fresh releases of their respective years. And then they recruited Dave Fridmann to produce their second albums, leading to dramatic changes in their sound before it was strictly called for.

This isn't to say that Some Loud Thunder or Walk It Off are terrible. In fact, I've warmed up to both via repeat listens. But after going back to their first releases, it's hard to feel that the changes were for the better. I'm a well compensated lobbyist to get bands to expand and/or change their style on subsequent albums, but both Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! and Tapes 'n Tapes lost a good deal of what appealed to people about them in the first place by doing so. Certainly their second albums are more experimental, nuanced, and definitely fit under the header of "albums that grow on you" for it, three things I have ready to paste into reviews to chastise other bands for not doing, but in this case I can't say I, or many other people, would have been very unhappy if both bands had released second albums that kept some of the immediacy and catchy hooks of their debuts.

Part of the appeal of Tapes 'n Tapes's debut was its ability to display obvious influences but not outright steal from them. Pixies, Pavement, and Modest Mouse are the clear starting points, but The Loon, in general, was like a glorious love letter to indie rock of all stripes. People sometimes say that music critics are just frustrated musicians (those who can, do; those who can't, criticize), so I think a sizeable portion of those of us who loved the band love them because they were fans who managed to wrangle their favorite bands' sounds in new, interesting ways. Another part of the appeal of their debut, for me at least, was its spacious production. The slower songs like 'Manitoba', 'Omaha', and 'In Houston' revealed a band perfectly capable of restraint, letting every delicate guitar or keyboard note sail through the air. Then there were the addictive, instantly enjoyable rock songs like 'Insistor' and 'Cowbell' which showed a young band capable of great things, and still greater things to come.

So why is it that Walk It Off has practically none of these elements??

I give the band credit for trying something different with their second album. It was a gamble, but as with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!, it didn't completely pay off. Paradoxically, while shedding some of their more obvious influences, Tapes 'n Tapes have actually become less distinctive in the process. I don't think I'm alone in thinking that this set of songs is more indebted to sounds (both in the lyric writing and way instruments are used) than songs. Moreover, the production is another atrocious Dave Fridmann mess. Gone is the relaxed, spacious atmosphere of The Loon. In its place is Fridmann's now-patented "compress and distort things needlessly; pile on instruments needlessly; try to make every album sound like a Flaming Lips album needlessly" style. While this worked for Sleater-Kinney and Low, it worked because those bands were in need of a new direction. Here, his production only furthers the sense that Tapes 'n Tapes are moving away from everything that made me like them in the first place. I could accept that the band wanted their second album to sound really different, or that the songs wouldn't be as immediately catchy, but not both at once. Speaking of not-as-catchy: I defy anyone to name a song on Walk It Off as good as even 'Just Drums' or '10 Gallon Ascots' from The Loon. The closest the band comes is 'Hang Them All' and 'Lines', two songs that, not coincidentally, feel the closest to the spirit and sense of fun of their debut.

Spending some time with Walk It Off always tempers my disappointment somewhat. It's not a bad album by any means, but as soon as I go back to their debut, it instantly seems like an inferior, needlessly experimental sophomore effort. Look, not every band needs to revolutionize their sound on their second release. Also, I don't think any band needs such a distinctive, forceful producer as Dave Fridmann to work on said second release. Had the band stuck a bit closer to their debut, had the band not worked with Fridmann, had this been their third or fourth album instead of their second...perhaps then, Walk It Off could have been a resounding success. As it is, though, Walk It Off, like Some Loud Thunder, is a very different beast from the debut, and one that acquired its "different-ness" at the expense of most of what made us like the band in the first place.

Band of Horses- Cease To Begin

There's a phrase I often hear people begin statements with: "More of the same, but..." Taken on its own, this fragment doesn't explicitly declare a negative or positive conclusion. No, you need to finish it to add that in: "More of the same, but better" or "more of the same, but worse." As I am a cynic and lazy, I get bored of things really easily. It's not that I have ADD, it's that I know there's so much else out there to experience--movies, books, things I should be writing, videogames, conversations with friends and loved ones--that I feel I can't spare a moment on something that is "more of the same." To me, "more of the same" always implicitly means "more of the same, but worse" because most of life (like our jobs, eating, taking a shower, etc.) is more of the same. I don't know about you, but everyday I go to the bathroom and it's "more of the same", and even when it's "more of the same, but better" it's still not great.

It may seem like I'm rambling (I am), but this "more of the same" concept has captured my imagination as I listen to Cease To Begin. Personally, I think Band of Horses's first album is a bit overrated. While I like it a lot, it pretty much defines the '4 stars out of 5' rating for me because it's a good little album for what it is but it's never seemed as astonishing and fantastic as some reviewers have made it out to be. In short, Band of Horses are a 'second tier' band for me, "second tier" being bands that make good little albums that I like but don't rouse me enough from my couch to accost passersby in the street. With all of that said, then: Cease To Begin is more of the same. Just, "more of the same", mind you; not better, not worse.

Again, "more of the same" implies "bad" and "boring" to me, so let me be completely clear. Cease To Begin is every bit as good as Everything All The Time, but both albums are pretty similar. This isn't "more of the same, but different"; it's "more of the same, but equal." The band itself and some critics have pointed out that Cease To Begin is a touch more 'rustic' than their debut, but this mostly amounts to, say, honky tonk piano and handclaps on 'General Specific.' Since the album was recorded in the Carolinas, where the band currently resides, I expected more of the local flavor, but whatever. If anything Cease To Begin solidifies Band of Horses's sound, a blend best summed up by this awkward chunk of words: "My Morning Jacket's singer meets Built To Spill's clean upper register guitars, minus guitar solos and longer songs, plus a dash of country." Other than having a bit more country, the only detectable difference for me was that the album has more...confidence, for lack of a better word. The vagaries continue: the songs feel more majestic and...nocturnal, where on Everything All The Time there seemed to be a...humbleness and afternoon-ish-ness about the whole thing. But not a lazy country summer day kind of afternoon; rather, more of a 'concert taking place between 4 and sundown' kind of vibe. I wish I could be more specific, so let me offer this. Where Everything All The Time ended with the short acoustic singalong 'St. Augustine', Cease closes with a slow motion, moondance, slide guitar totin' ballad in 'Window Blues.'

While I could see someone making a case for one of these two albums as 'superior' to the other, I am not that person. I'm just not that into this band to really prefer one over the other. I think most of us are best off flipping a coin and picking one or the other. Cease To Begin may get some credit for not being a disappointing sophomore effort, but to these ears it's similar enough to their debut to almost (almost) make me want to call the band out for playing it safe. But...no. Cease To Begin is another solid '4 stars out of 5' set of songs from a band who may never surprise me but at least make a point of not letting me down.

Album of the Week/Primer: Beck part 10- Modern Guilt

Counting Stereopathetic Soulmanure and One Foot In The Grave, which some people don't, Modern Guilt marks Beck's 10th album. It's at this point in most long-running careers that the double digit milestone causes an artist to rip everything up and start again. But, since Beck has made a career out of stylistic jumps, what is he to do?? It turns out, what he does is record the most concise album of his career, and one that revitalizes his art after a few albums of standing still.

While I liked The Information, there's no denying that Modern Guilt is a superior album in every regard. It is almost half the length of The Information and bursting with new ideas and fantastic songs. There isn't a dud to be had here. Along with Radiohead's In Rainbows, a later career, ultra-tight and concise album that saw the band lightening the mood a bit, Modern Guilt hones Beck's songwriting to a fine point and marries his increasingly dark and paranoid lyrics to a bedrock combination of late 60s garage rock and modern day hip hop. Some of this new sound must come from producer Danger Mouse, who rose to prominence based on his mash-up of the Beatles's White Album (1968) and Jay Z's The Black Album (2003).

Many critics have remarked about the dark nature of the lyrics on Modern Guilt, what with its obsessions over the environment, death, age, etc. Those of us who've been paying attention to the sub-text of albums post-Sea Change have noticed this encroaching heaviness. At any rate, Modern Guilt is the most successful at tackling these themes because Beck is at the center of these songs at all times. Guero and The Information had a tendency toward burying Beck beneath a whiz-bang crust of samples, funky beats, atmospherics, and cryptic, hard-to-make-out vocals. Modern Guilt is a relatively straightforward album for Beck, by contrast, because his lyrics are generally easy to hear and understand, while the music itself is stripped down even further than The Information. Frequently making use of a 60s garage rock backing of guitar, bass, and percussion, Beck and Danger Mouse also offer drum machines, keyboards, and discrete loops/samples when necessary.

Modern Guilt's true contribution to Beck's discography is in bringing back the Beck of effortless melodies and catchy songs. Going back to Midnite Vultures and working your way forward, it quickly becomes apparent how few new ideas Beck was having. Modern Guilt is endlessly inventive, with melodies, rhythms, and hooks packed inside of each other. Even the less immediate songs like 'Chemtrails' (a slow burning, gradually building psychedelic ballad) and 'Replica' (with its glitchy electronic beats that sound more like something off an Autechre album) contain more new and great ideas than The Information, which I felt contained a few interesting new ideas, but still not enough. As usual, though, the true appeal of a Beck album is the upbeat songs, and Modern Guilt is no slouch here, with the addictive 'Gamma Ray', the incessant beat of the title track, and the ultra-distorted 'Profanity Prayers' which opens up like a flower during its chorus.

One only hopes that other long-going artists will follow the lead of Radiohead and Beck in creating half-hour-ish albums of such clarity and inventiveness. Only time will tell if Modern Guilt spells a rebirth, a renaissance, for Beck's art. Whatever the case may turn out to be, we're left with one of the most pleasing and immediately enjoyable albums in his discography.

Video: Bjork- Human Behaviour

An easy way to tell if someone is worthy to be your friend is to show them this video and note their reaction. If they don't like it, they aren't worthy.

I remember seeing this video back when it was first on TV, and even as a kid I thought it was incredible. I'm a big fan of videos that attempt to move to the music, rather than just being something totally unrelated or the band lipsynching and miming along to the music. This video takes it to the next level by presenting you with dream-like visual images that stick in your head, such as the hypnotic walking motion of the bear. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Michel Gondry is a genius.

The Complainer: Pandora

People are always going on about artificial intelligence, but I'd personally be more interested in hearing what kind of music AI would write. Almost all of our response to music is based on emotion, and even the most mechanical, precise, and sterile electronic music provokes some response other than intellectual fascination. Would music created by AI appeal to humans on any level?? Would it even sound like music to us??

I bring this up because Pandora attempts to reduce music down to its scientific components and then recommend music to you based on that. Unfortunately, music is not chemistry, so where two parts hydrogen and one part oxygen will always make water, "electric rock instrumentation" and "minor key tonality" can create, apparently, 'Mushroom' by Can and--I kid you not--'Once Upon A Time In The West' by the Dire Straits. Apparently, 'Debaser' by the Pixies and 'God Save The Queen' by the Sex Pistols share similar music/molecular components, too.

To be fair, that last set of songs sound vaguely similar, but you'll never see any human comparing the two in any way. They come from different motivations and different aesthetic sensibilities, and conjure up different emotional resonances in the listener. What, then, to make of a band that radically changes sounds from album to album?? I had enough problems with Animal Collective, because Pandora played 'Leaf House' and then found stuff similar to its strange, skewed folk (giving me a TV On the Radio track that is vocal focused, a Devendra Banhart psych-folk nugget, and finally a Magnetic Fields song...which I heard 5 seconds of before Pandora tried to get me to register) while most of the band's music is more electric and layered. I can't even imagine what would happen if I put Beck in.

Now, I realize that Pandora is free. And it does help people find new music. But even if you go by 'song' instead of 'artist', it'll turn up weird results like those mentioned above. Hey, I like the Magnetic Fields just fine, but they don't sound anything like the Animal Collective. This is what happens when we let science determine what music is made up of. Pandora is great, like so much science, in theory, but in actual use and trials it fails completely.

Album of the Week: Grizzly Bear- Yellow House

Sorry to get all 'New Journalism' on you, but I've been going through a period of writer's block for the past few months. It's mostly been affecting my fiction output, but right now I find myself yet again spending a drowsy afternoon trying desperately to decide what to write. Which ended up working nicely, because Yellow House is a perfect album for drowsy afternoons.

It's not that this album lacks dynamics, or plays out like a leisurely summer rainstorm, all gentle-white-noise washing out from the speakers and caressing your ear drums. No, it's more that somewhere along the line I end up categorizing most albums as belonging to a specific time of day, or a specific emotional mindset, or what have you. I can't, for instance, listen to The Marble Index by Nico unless I'm vaguely depressed, in a catatonic kind of way, and have my shades drawn. I can't listen to Architecture In Helsinki unless I'm hopped up on caffeine and/or something diabetes inducing, like a mound of Pixie stick powder large enough to rival the final scene of Scarface. But I digress. Even the songs on Yellow House that rouse themselves above a drowsy-afternoon-energy-level don't shock the listener into hypnagogic jerks, unlike, say, almost every post-rock album ever recorded. You're sailing along nicely on marshmallow boats of clipped snare drums, ponderous guitars, and bathysphere deep bass when the band decides to hit a crescendo or a wall of noise suddenly arrives as if spun loose from a Lightning Bolt album. Meanwhile, Yellow House offers logical spikes, more akin to neighbors slamming their car doors down the block while your left arm dangles off the couch or your roommate arriving home, realizing you're half-asleep, and trying to very quietly sneak past without disturbing you.

Were I hard pressed to describe Grizzly Bear's music, I would have to resort to the lazy 'psych-folk' genre. Primarily acoustic instrument based, but played in a dreamy/psychedelic fashion. The problem is that the 'psych-folk' genre encompasses such disparate, modern-day musicians as Devendra Banhart, Joanna Newsom, and Animal Collective. Problematically, only Sung Tongs by the latter could be considered 'psych-folk', maybe Campfire Songs, too, but whatever. The point is that Yellow House has a similar reverential attitude toward reverb, repetitive acoustic guitar, and pastoral-but-not-honky-tonky-country-kind-of-pastoral atmospherics. The album also reminds me of the post-rock-by-way-of-acoustic-instruments vibe that Roots and Crowns by Califone gives off.

Yellow House is the kind of album you'll need to spend some time with before it truly engrosses you. The problem with albums like this--of the drowsy afternoon breed in total, actually--is that a full accounting of their strengths can only be calculated while your energy level synchs up. As I said earlier, it's not that Yellow House is a slow IV drip of an album, but it doesn't have enough quick, punchy dynamic songs to catch a cursory listener's ear. Spend a drowsy afternoon or two listening to the full album (don't feel bad if you fall asleep for awhile, it's part of the charm) and its deliberate, thoughtful pacing and restraint will blossom. 'On A Neck, On A Spit', the best example of what I mean, initially seems a schizophrenic work that gets markedly better in its second half where the tempo picks up and we are catapulted into a maximalist groove, with gushing walls of sound and vocal choruses of the "oooohhhhh----ahhhhh"-ish sort. I would also point to the obvious 'Knife', a song which the listener is immediately drawn into, with its big vocals and almost shoegazer-esque guitar soundscapes before the minute-and-a-half outro of cinematic piano and clattering percussion. Lest I forget the drowsy bulk of the album, which I've been mumbling about all along: the haunting chill of 'Central And Remote', the whistle-fortified vocal harmonics of 'Plans', and the aptly named 'Lullabye', which, though it is the second song, establishes the emotional and energy-level status quo for the remainder of the album.

Frankly I think a lot of people were mystified as to why this album was getting such praise two years ago. It is one of those releases that most people are going to listen to once or twice, pick out the obvious, more direct songs, discard everything else, and wonder why the rest of us are so in love with the whole package. In this miss-matched era of MetaCritic scores determining what music fans go after and those people downloading ten albums at a time and only giving two of those a chance because they immediately gratify, Yellow House is doomed to failure. Those of us willing to give albums like this a chance will be writing dazzled reviews, reviews that are then read by puzzled listeners who hear a stray track from poor Grizzly Bear on an iTunes shuffle in between, say, Vampire Weekend and the Hold Steady. But, if you're like me, you spend a lot of drowsy afternoons bored and alone, and Yellow House is a perfect complement for it.

Video: The Beatles- I Am The Walrus

I'm not sure what the current consensus is on Magical Mystery Tour. It seems like every few years, people (ok, hipsters and critics) go back and forth on it. Pretentious, nonsensical piece of shit, or brilliant absurdist/surrealist art film?? I tend to fall toward the latter, and on certain days I would be inclined to argue that the Magical Mystery Tour album (especially in its filled out U.S. version, not the original British EP) is a better summer of love/psychedelic touchstone than Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

I base a good deal of this argument on this part of the movie: the video for 'I Am The Walrus.' Not only is the song insane and one of the best experimental pop tunes ever written, the bizarre costumes and movements of the Beatles themselves throughout it will become images that remain with you for at least a day or so, wondering how much pot and LSD you would need to come up with something equally fascinating.