ALBUM REVIEW: John Mayer- Born & Raised (2012)

If I remember correctly, my first reaction to John Mayer when he hit the mainstream back in the early 2000s was a very muted "meh". This was back when I was just a freshman in high school, and when his first big single "Your Body is a Wonderland" was swimming all over the airwaves. Not to say that I didn't think it's simple hook and melodically pleasing picking pattern wasn't competent, it just wasn't my thing. Then, I started hearing the song absolutely EVERYWHERE-- movies, tv commercials, every single radio station, those old "All The Hits" CDs that Wal-Mart made millions selling- and I, based on just this one narrow view of his music, decided John Mayer just wasn't for me.

In 2012, a very good friend of mine bought me a ticket to see John Mayer live for my birthday. By that point, I had actually heard his live record Where The Light Is, and had already been turned on to the fact that he wasn't just some pretty boy singing poppy love songs while banging half of Hollywood's hottest actresses. The thing is (if you don't already know) John Mayer is actually one hell of a brilliant guitarist. You can't always tell from his hit singles, but the guy knows his stuff. One of my friends once compared him to Stevie Ray Vaughan, and I would never have seen the huge influence the great Stevie Ray has had on Mr. Mayer until sinking my teeth into Where The Light Is. For one thing, Mayer not only gets up on stage and performs blindingly inspired versions of his hits and better known album tracks, but actually reserves a whole set for what he calls The John Mayer Trio. A blues-based, jazz-inflected collective fronted by Mayer that allows him to step out of the pop impresario costume and let his obsession with guitar prowess and roots-rock influence all hang out. After hearing that record (and watching the beautifully shot DVD that accompanied it's release), I was extremely excited to see him live. And let me tell you, he didn't disappoint. From minute one, Mayer held me completely captive and not only made good on his promise to imbue his hits with the live elasticity and improvisation he is known for, but I was also blown away by the renditions of his newest material I hadn't yet heard from the Born & Raised album. The fact that each of the songs were joined by beautifully trippy background video that made the stage seem cavernous and endless was just a cherry on top of the whole experience.

Born & Raised, on a purely musical level, is a bit of a scaling back for Mayer. While his previous records piled on the layers, with glossy production work that sounded pristine and expensive, Mayer makes a conscious effort this time around to peel some of the layers back and let things sound natural and warm. Taking inspiration from the singer-songwriter records of the 60s & 70s, with a very healthy dose of old-school country and Americana thrown in for good measure, Born & Raised has a laid-back and easygoing comfortable feeling that provides a better bed for his nostalgic sentimentality. The bulk of the album sounds a little weightless, hovering in that ethereal space between rousing and relaxing, more like a tall glass of warm milk for the soul rather than a rock n' roll speedball shot to the brain. Depending on how you like your rock music, this could go either way, but in light of the career blunders and health problems that threatened to tear down everything Mayer had built by that point, Born & Raised signals not only a much more mature and measured artist, but one that no longer has to so boastfully shout his strengths to be taken seriously.

None of that is to say that this record isn't strong or powerful. Songs like the anthemic title track, "Something Like Olivia", and possibly his most inspiring song to date "Age of Worry",  showcase how Mayer is incredibly adept at bridging the gap between the music of the past and the angst-ridden social mentality of today's manic world. By sewing stories of repentance, forgiveness, late-night anxiety, and chronic nostalgia to the comforting warmth of traditional american folk songwriting, Mayer comes full circle. By embracing his roots, he's able to better contextualize that brash attitude of his that could sometimes threaten to outshine his many musical talents. This is an old-school album, where the entire tapestry appeals more than just each individual song on their own. With the longest track clocking in at just over 5 minutes, and a few that hardly push the 3 minute mark, Born & Raised was clearly meant to be easily digested in one sitting. And I can confidently say that's the best way to enjoy it.

You might have a certain image of John Mayer in your head. If it's based mostly on his upbeat pop singles and his outsized public persona, I urge you to take a chance on letting Born & Raised sing you to sleep. Or drive you to work. Or simply calm you down at home when the whirlwind of 21st century life seems a bit too much to take.

Alive in the age of worry, indeed.

ALBUM REVIEW: Minus The Bear- Menos El Oso (2005)

With so many guitar-driven bands coming and going since the advent of the 2000s indie rock explosion, it’s easy to dismiss and forget certain records that made a splash upon their arrival before fading out of view. Minus The Bear, a band known for their intricate math-rock riffing and (sometimes) maddening middle-of-road consistency nevertheless created one of the best examples of just the kind of sprightly, inventive, cathartic (yet tonally deadpan) indie art-emo that seems to be sorely missing in today’s musical climate. Menos El Oso, their 2005 sophomore outing is the kind of record that has a little bit of everything-- rendering the term “indie rock” profusely inadequate because it doesn't even hint at the melodic excitement and technical know-how Minus The Bear display here.

Menos El Oso is the sound of a band committing to their vision and forcing it to blossom on all accounts. Firing on all cylinders, and besting their already impressive debut, it is an album that sounds deceptively fluid and smooth if you’re not paying close attention. Something Minus The Bear do so ridiculously well— they seem to have an endless supply of groovy bass and guitar riffing that, more often than not, can combine into a sublime expression of pure musical exuberance. A perfect example is on the album highlight “Drilling”, where an insistent forward-thinking guitar riff drives the song into an all-hands-on-deck treatise on how to blow away an audience and keep them both engaged and on fire for over 5 minutes. It’s not quite aggressive— there’s nobody on earth who could call vocalist Jake Snyder anything but soulful— but it has an edge that pushes it just a bit further than calm & collected. It’s got hunger. Elsewhere, on mid-album sunshine stunner “Pachuca Sunrise”, Minus is able to completely (and accurately) capture a picture of beachside melancholy. I mean it, listen to the song and you can almost feel the breezy seaside air blowing past your face as you connect with the lyrical yearning to share the scene with a faraway lover. Between these two extremes, the band balances the rest of the record, unafraid to tempter driving riffage with serene soundscapes and equally fearless when bolstering the production with slight electronic bedding. For proof they can pull the elctro-pop skitter off just fine, look no further than “El Torrente”— a grower that’ll be stuck in your head for hours after the album stops spinning. 

Minus The Bear, overall, has been a frustrating band since releasing Menos El Oso. No, they haven’t released an outright TERRIBLE record (regardless of what some fans will tell you about 4th outing OMNI, it’s actually pretty good), but their albums tend to vacillate between captivating/interesting and boring/middling to a degree that would make any fan slightly indifferent. Whenever I stop to go back and re-listen, though, I’m always surprised at what I find— songs I’d forgotten about, songs I didn’t initially like but somehow capture me on repeated spins, overall album arcs that remind me of why I should care in the first place— Minus The Bear may not be critical darlings but they can out-riff a million of the newcomers that have sprung up in their wake. If you’re looking for a reason to fall in love with guitar-rock again, or just need a healthy dose of inventive indie swashbuckling set to dirty grooves, you can’t possibly go wrong with Menos El Oso. 

Beach towel not included, BYOB.

ALBUM REVIEW: Coldplay- A Rush of Blood To The Head (2002)

 I want to start this off by saying that I do realize the implications of writing about Coldplay in the year 2015. While most everything has been said about them, running the gamut from claiming them as the best band in the world, to the absolute worst in the world, my allegiances stand firmly somewhere in the middle. Well, if not the middle, I at least like to take a much more considered view of their music, the nuances within the records they've made, and the reasons for their rapid ascent. There's something about this band that resonates. Love them or hate them, you can't knock 'em for trying to present a re-vamped version of themselves for each successive record. The fact that the results have been all over the map only indicates their willingness to step outside of a well-worn comfort zone, at the very least trying their best to confound expectations. Coldplay have become such a big name in pop music (I'm hesitant to use the term Rock), that it sometimes becomes very easy to forget the grace and glamour with which they their early records were imbued.

A Rush of Blood To The Head is a perfect example of a well-rounded and expertly executed record from a band that was just on the cusp of worldwide acclaim. If you go back and have a listen, you'll be reminded why: just a few years on from their very modest debut outing Parachutes, the band was willing to plug-in and expound in all mannered directions at once. Parachutes exuded a confident melodic sense, for sure, but wore most of these ideas out in the same hushed tones and acoustic arrangements. Well done for a band that didn't want to come out of the gates seeming over-eager, but although the album charted well and produced two lovely singles ("Yellow" and "Trouble"), the template was certainly used up by the conclusion of the record. Critics took note, though, and hailed the band as the second-coming of the original incarnation of Radiohead. A misplaced and (especially with hindsight being 20/20) completely inaccurate assessment of the career trajectory Coldplay would pursue, they nonetheless did take the opportunity to branch out with their second LP. In modest Coldplay fashion, of course, but to effective and applaudable results.

Opening with a blast of tempered passion, "Politik" rolls in on cascading guitar figures of the distorted variety before hushing immediately for quiet verses that set up a juxtaposition the band will bare out over the course of the remaining album. It swells and ebbs, and the breakdown in the middle of the song emits such a gloriously disarming sunshine that anyone would be forgiven for falling for the song on only its first spin. Luckily for any listener that was seduced (I, myself, obviously included), the record plays on with every bit as much intent and confidence. First single "In My Place" follows up on the promise of the shimmering mid-section with its own melancholic delight, employing a yearning Chris Martin vocal and a slow-swinging groove that asks only that we stop for a moment and pay attention. Unlike the laboured epic sound the band would shoot for later in its career, this song sounds nothing but effortless. And beautiful. The record continues to impress in this same way, vacillating between gentle and dreamy ("The Scientist", "Clocks") and more emphatically balls-forward numbers ("Warning Sign", "A Rush of Blood to The Head"). Coldplay accomplish a wonderful under-handed feat, whereby they continue their brilliant and confident songwriting streak but also add a whole bunch of colour to their original palette. By the time album closer "Amsterdam" comes sweeping through on a beautiful bed of solo piano, it's impossible not to feel like something truly special has just happened. Dark Side Of The Moon this is not, but it accomplishes a goal that is rarely met: a sophomore record that not only delivers on the promise of the debut, but bests it and expands upon it. Not an easy feat for any band, much less one that was already heralded "the next Radiohead".

As we all now know, the band would continue trying to best itself, but to sometimes disastrous results, and especially their next album X & Y, would come under heavy criticisms that were mostly warranted. Having made a record as uniformly strong as A Rush of Blood To The Head, who could blame the band for cracking under the pressure of making a follow-up? My point, though, has really nothing to do with what Coldplay have done since, except by way of backwards-comparison: if you've forgotten how good these guys can be with an unsullied melodic sensibility and the confidence of just really damn good songs... go back and listen. A Rush of Blood, indeed.

ALBUM REVIEW: Death Cab For Cutie- Kintsugi (2015)

Kintsugi is a rather important record for Death Cab. After taking a decidedly risky stylistic detour with Codes & Keys (the bands' 2011 effort that, while interesting and enjoyable, disappointed most of their fanbase), and with the announced departure of producer and guitarist Chris Walla- the veteran indie darlings stand at a crossroads.

Rather than throw out convention and redesign their sound from the ground-up, Ben Gibbard & Co. instead decide to do a nostalgic glance-backwards, while retaining and more effectively incorporating the dreamy synth heavy atmospherics they explored the last time out. Kintsugi being, by definition, the art of fusing lacquered gold & silver into the process of repairing broken pottery (a practice in Japanese art that philosophically aims to celebrate the broken history of a piece rather than hide it), one could interpret the record as a way to celebrate what some critics have labelled 'shortcomings' in the classic Death Cab for Cutie sound. A smart and prescient move for album number 8.

In my opinion, DCFC has always been about celebrating shortcomings- Gibbard's lyrics at their best reflect the inner crevices of messy love and the lost hopes and dreams we all carry along with us. By honing in and focusing on the kind of personal and intimate storytelling the band made its name presenting, Death Cab have made a record of songs that ease their way into your head & heart, instead of stumble and stretch to find new ground. This tactic might seem safe and stilted to some more cynical and demanding listeners, but to me seems more like a realignment of priorities and purpose. In fact, what made Codes & Keys hard to completely enjoy was the way that it felt like the band was trying its best to put on a dress that didn't quite fit. There are definitely some aural holdovers from that album to be found here (a move that makes sense and actually reinforces why we should still care about Death Cab For Cutie in 2015), but these songs have an unlabored forward momentum that feels honest and true in a way the widescreen phantasms of Codes & Keys simply didn't.

Still, with all of that said, the album does fall short of being anything resembling a masterpiece. Maybe that's ok, though, for a band that has spent 2 decades chronicling everyday hardships and practically spearheading a genre explosion that they were, at least on a musical level, never really that much a part of. These guys have made at least 3 absolutely essential modern-day indie rock records, and have at all times endeavoured- if not completely succeeded- to push their sound into exciting new places with each new album. If their eighth record sounds like a mature group of guys facing down middle age with the calm assurance of basking in the familiar, it's actually pretty hard to fault them for it. Maybe fixing what seemed broken really is enough after all.

ALBUM REVIEW: "Second Listen" - The Smashing Pumpkins- Zeitgeist Deluxe Edition (2007)

When Zeitgeist arrived in 2007, I wasn't exactly ecstatic about it. Yes, I had been waiting 7 long years for what was promised to be a triumphant return from one of my all-time favourite bands. What I got was a muddled heap of towering metallic guitars, a thin and improperly-mixed Billy Corgan, and just a laboured few of the kind of transcendent Pumpkins' moments I had been craving. Needless to say I didn't play that first version of Zeitgeist all that much at all. Save for "That's The Way (My Love Is), "Neverlost", and "Tarantula", I hadn't really found a whole lot to love about the album. In a lot of ways it left me alienated, both as a fan and as someone who appreciates great music. The album sounded like a parade that had forgotten to blow up its floats before marching down the main drag. Lots of noise but very little beauty.

About 2 years ago I realized there was a deluxe version of Zeitgeist floating around. It boasted 4 bonus tracks that were inexplicably left off of the original release of the album. Knowing that Billy Corgan had a penchant not only for b-sides and rarities, but REALLY GOOD b-sides and rarities (more often than not rivalling the quality and depth of album tracks), I was curious but cautious. I knew that Zeitgeist had some great ideas floating around within it's ham-fisted walls, but just couldn't vibe with how it seemed so one-sided. I've always been a fan of how The Smashing Pumpkins are adept at provoking many feelings and moods, and their youthful exuberance usually led them to take artistic detours that, while not always successful, were at least admirable and enjoyable. I never felt like they painted too much with one single colour until the arrival of the original Zeitgeist pressing. Naturally, I assumed that the once-fertile inspirational well that Billy & Co. drew from was now close to empty. With only 2 remaining members of the group left, it seemed the magic had dwindled and the band had simply misunderstood what their audience expected of them.

I have to admit that I was wrong about Zeitgeist. That is how much of an impact those extra 4 songs have had on me and my feeling towards the record in the time since I've discovered them. You wouldn't expect 4 b-sides to completely cast the record in a whole new light, but that's exactly what they do. Why did Billy decide to exclude "Stellar", "Ma Belle", "Death from Above",  and "Zeitgeist" from the original album? These are by no means among the best of the Pumpkins' considerable ouevre, but they are miles ahead of most of what made it onto Zeitgeist. "Stellar" surges with a twinkle-twilight rush of twisting guitar figures and understated emotional heft, culling to mind close aural kin "Set The Ray To Jerry" but with more umph and prescience. It has not only become one of my favorite songs on the album, but it has found its way into my heart as just a beautiful and potent Pumpkins song in general. "Ma Belle" boasts Billy's most poetic lyrical output since the glory days, paced along perfectly to a driving Jimmy Chamberlain signature backbeat. It doesn't feel rushed or ham-fisted, it just sounds honest and natural. Something the rest of Zeitgeist labours to express. The final 2-- "Death from Above" and "Zeitgeist", the former a new-wave trounce through the synthesizer-heavy colours of Billy's solo record The Future Embrace, and the latter a lilting acoustic lullaby akin to anything found on the American Gothic EP-- both add much needed shading to an album that lacked a variance in tone and intent.

By mixing these tracks into the general flow of the original album, they have managed to make me look at the entire collection differently. I can't pretend that I like the extended vocal bridge of United States (the passage in which Billy tunelessly yelps "let me be every moment I ever misunderstood" while ironically adding the tackiest of diminishing echo to the words), any more than I did before but I can now temper those obviously miscommunicated moments with the grander vision these 4 missing songs present. I wouldn't endeavour to call Zeitgeist any kind of masterpiece, but I've grown rather fond of "Bleeding The Orchid", "Doomsday Clock", "Come On (Lets Go)", and most of the other tracks originally presented precisely because balance has been restored. Zeitgeist is a more complete, well-rounded, and typically "Pumpkins" record with these tracks nestled beside the others. I wonder if Billy knew this and was just testing his audience, daring them to endure the colossal guitar attack, but promising more if they're willing to follow? I doubt this, but hey it could be true. I can't imagine any other reason why someone would leave these 4 lovely songs on the cutting room floor, especially with a record in tow that desperately needed them in order to stand up straight and tall.

Some Thoughts On Black Friday Riots

After watching videos of violent Black Friday mobs bearing down on stores and shopping malls, I am compelled to reflect on our culture and its insatiable need to consume.

Not only are we now a culture who cares more about overhyped "deals" on consumer items than we do about the welfare of the people around us, but we are so subservient to the act of consuming that most of us don't even realize how hopelessly enslaved we are by the entire process.

Had anyone stopped to realize that these "deals" are presented to us only to encourage more spending right before Christmas, or that the act of fighting through mobs of other crazed shoppers is antithetical to the entire concept of holiday spirit, maybe they would have also paused to realize that the over-arching tone of the whole ritual was to have us all so focused on spending and buying that we'd have to overlook the generous amount of ill will being done in the world today.

I want to say this as clearly as possible. Wake up! If you feel that you need a new television so badly that you literally have to wake up at the crack of dawn, rush to your local Wal-Mart, and beat up other people just to get it-- your priorities in life are SERIOUSLY skewed. You are sick, and you should probably seek immediate professional help (although the sad thing is if everyone who took part in a violent Black Friday raid sought help for mental instability, there would be no psychiatrists left on the planet).

If the people raiding department stores got that excited about helping the poor or spending time with their families, or supporting a worthy cause, we would have already created the much-better world we're all always dreaming of. When will people stop believing the lie that having a bunch of new stuff will make them happy? Being willing to literally push, shove, and fight other human beings to get your hands on something says volumes about our inherent love affair with materialism and blatant disregard for the well-being of others.

I'm not blaming people for wanting to take advantage of deals. And I know most of the people reading this will not have been out punching and kicking people in the mall yesterday. But the general shrugged shoulders I've noticed as a reaction to the phenomenon of violent consumerism is disheartening.

A new twist on an old cliche is in order: a bunch of new stuff (even new stuff that you got on sale) won't ever make you truly happy. Why not fight for something that will?

ALBUM REVIEW: Wye Oak- Shriek (2014)

I will start this review by stating a fact: I am not a previous or long-term fan of Wye Oak. The only knowledge I have of them came via a friend who forwarded to me (sometime last year) an acoustic rendition of their song "Civilian", by way of a youtube video. The haunting vocals combined with a skeletal and foreboding guitar figure, that seemed to ratchet up in intensity until the final explosive climax had me hooked. That song was on repeat for days, but I never thought to explore more of the bands music, and the song got quietly filed away on my ever-expanding iPod classic.

So what to make of this new album, Shriek? Well, for starters, I dare say that the guitars have been almost completely abandoned. While it seems fashionable lately for a lot of previously guitar-oriented bands to start picking up synthesizers and rummaging through WalMart's bargain bins for inspiration from Sounds of the 80's, what Wye Oak achieve on this album seems indicative of something else. There is a deeper purpose to the shiny surfaces and frothy rhythms here, and vocalist/co-songwriter Jenn Weaver explained it in the weeks leading up to the release of the album. Essentially, she was bored of her guitar. After the relentless touring following the monumental success of Wye Oak's previous album, Civilian, Weaver was scared to death of the notion that she would have to now sit down and use the same instruments, and go through the same familiar process to write a follow-up. Change was imminent, and almost inevitable.

The problem facing an artist as revered for specifically those things they are hoping to abandon (ie: layers of guitars, pounding drums, and throbbing bass that swell into cacophonic resolutions, then fade out), will always be: how to move forward without abandoning what fans know and love about the band in the first place? The answer, in Wye Oak's case is... completely obliterate expectation and start from scratch. No looking back, no apologies, no fear.

Shriek is not formulated around the indie-rock precedent of the three-element live-band set up. The sound is built of layers, mainly formulated of oscillating synth lines, bubbling bass, skittering beats, and of course, haunting vocals. Jenn Weaver manages to continue her strong show on the microphone, but on Shriek she lets her voice come to the fore-- it is still somewhat buried in the mix on most of these tunes but it absolutely sparkles, and shimmers, and booms like thunder from the foggy mist. She is an extremely talented vocalist, and while some of the music on Shriek leaves the listener feeling around in the dark, her vocals pin each emotional sentiment to the ground with authority and melodic purpose. Andy Stack, who previously handled drums and production, has now taken the reins of Wye Oak's sound completely under his wing. His clever production manages to wrap the music in a gauzy haze, without completely obscuring it, or marginalizing it, or even, polishing it too much. The sound is, unsurprisingly, related to the pop and rock of the 80's, but the reference points are a little less obvious. These songs do not go immediately for the easy hook, or the brightly spit-shined radio sheen, but instead strike a balance between push and pull. We are hooked in by the beauty, but stick around to unravel the mystery.

I have an inkling that most fans of Wye Oak's previous output will be disappointed with this record, and I don't think I have the right to negate such a sentiment. While I believe this album to be truly beautiful, haunting, engaging, and unique-- I also understand how the intensity of their guitar-based music was impactful in an entirely different way. The emotions on Shriek are fluffed up and come to the surface gradually, with some digging. On Civilian, the emotions were up-front and intense. Shriek is a record that prefers to purr and whisper, even though it does swell and boom in its own delicate way. I implore you to give it a chance to wow you, and if it doesn't... please be Civil.