ALBUM REVIEW: Arcade Fire- Reflektor (2013)

Expectation can be a crazy thing. Especially when it comes to a band as reviled and praised as Canada's own Arcade Fire. Though they've long been known to shatter expectations and revamp convention with each of their previous 3 albums, their newest addition to an already laudable catalog is a concept (what else?) double-album of proportions they'd only hinted at before. Expectations were considerably high, and for good reason. This is a band who have never shied away from doing something overblown and spectacular, and their 2010 album The Suburbs was nothing shy of a masterpiece that captured the disenfranchised isolation of the life of suburban young adults through a series of ruminations on the mundane. The album was a success because of how it captured that reasonably common experience and drew out the spectacular shades of emotion within, in a way that only Arcade Fire would have the talent and audacity to do. The pressure to follow that award-winning album with something even more visionary and accomplished would be hard for any band to live up to, but Arcade Fire have met and exceeded expectations with Reflektor. Knee-jerk negative reviews by first-listen only critics not withstanding.

Let's get something out of the way before I continue. If you're going to despise an Arcade Fire album for being (1) too highly conceptual, or (2) overblown and bombastic, you're asking of the music something it never pretends or wants to be. Of course it's overblown, highly-conceptual, and will challenge the limits of your attention-span. That's a given. Reflektor demands of the listener just about as much patience and indulgence as the band held onto to bring it to life. But what you'll find upon giving it the time of day, is a record that stands defiantly unafraid to be great. Even in its flaws, and it does have some flaws, you will find something to admire or enjoy. Arcade Fire have literally taken every trick they have and thrown them, guts and all, onto tape-- making sure to twist them in new and refreshingly combustible ways to prove they aren't afraid to be exactly what they are. It's also danceable, so for the less cerebrally inclined, there's still a lot to like.

The truth is, Reflektor isn't about disco or David Bowie revivalism. Sure, there are shades of every rock excess (both in theory and in practice), hinted at throughout the record but it's also something much more. Underneath the sound of the album is an uneasy feeling the permeates almost all of it. There's nothing one would be able to call "uplifting" to be found, and this is where some critics have levelled their attack on Reflektor. Melodically, it is certainly not warm like The Suburbs was, but it is definitely full of melody and memorable hooks. The difference is that the veneer of calm settled Americana has been eschewed in favour of an underworldly decay and decadence-- Arcade Fire are warning everyone that the party is over, but they're doing it by throwing the be-all, end-all.  Like all great albums that tell of a time and place, Reflektor threatens to explode into a forest fire at any second, yet it backs off just that little bit to control its impulses. It is rough around the edges, and it is long-winded in its execution. But it's an indulgence you'll take every bit of pleasure in while spinning it on repeat.

If you couldn't already tell, I'm shying away from nit-picking song specifics and analyzing lyrics because I don't believe it's my place to do that for you. You have ears, you have brains, you can listen and decide for yourself how it all comes together for you. I don't have to sing the praises of Arcade Fire's technical proficiency because that is something that has never been questionable. The album rocks, but it rocks for a purpose and it leaves me with the feeling like there's something about myself I don't quite like-- something that needs to change. If a record can make me question how I'm living in my daily consumption-heavy lifestyle, I consider it a winner. What will you find when you look into Reflektor? What's staring back? Just listen.

In The Wake of Record-Low Record Sales: What "The Album" Means To Me

I remember being a young kid. I mean really young, like 3 or 4 years old. My parents had a great audio set up even then. My father was something of an audiophile, and it was always one of my all-time favourite things to do to sit in the over-sized brown chair with those huge eggshell 80s headphones and listen to records. By records I mean vinyl records. I was a child of the 80s, don't forget.

Sure, the records I was listening to were nothing special. My parents were unfortunately collectors of mainly christian music. This was unfortunate because I missed out on a lot of the more awesome music (ie. almost all of it) of the 60s, 70s, and 80s. So be it. I still loved sitting there listening while I looked at the oversized vinyl sleeves. The art, the credits, the lyrics, everything about the recorded audio format made me fall in love with music. With the idea of tying an image to the music, and making it all into a statement of the heart, a message from a place in time that would never vanish. Something concrete that would exist into the future, to project the sound of a place and a time and a memory.

As I got older I started experimenting the with audio cassette tape. I liked this format because I could be in charge of the recording, the artwork, the message, the sound. When I got my first tape recorder I was literally ecstatic. I took that thing everywhere, recorded everything, annoyed everyone around me because I just wouldn't shut that damn thing off. And when I discovered how to take records, cds, and other tapes and overdub them into mixes that I could take with me in the backseat of long drives and play on my walkman... well, I was in love. Just totally, purely, incredibly in love.

Back to the album itself. I remember purchasing my first CDs. I remember taking time to just sit in my room and play them. I'd look at the booklet, I'd analyze the lyrics, I'd listen over and over again to take in the thematic elements of the record itself. Even then, in my adolescence, I understood what the format was. I understood it as not only a collection of songs that could fend for themselves, but as a collective that worked together. Somehow, inherently, I understood the importance of sequencing and song placement, the way the sounds have to work together to create a narrative. I loved it when bands would sneak sound effects and snippets in-between songs, or put 23 tracks of silence after the last listed song, only to find a hidden mysterious song after patiently waiting. I just always thought the album format was a beautiful thing.

Even when the era of music downloading reared its head and I discovered I could actually grasp all this music I didn't have access to before (I guess you could call this the beginning of the end), I still downloaded albums, not just songs. You could call me a hypocrite I suppose, but my point isn't to attack music pirating or the issue of how downloading music has affected sales and revenue. The album as a format is a collection of songs that are released as a single unit. Vinyl, CD, Tape, Mp3, the format is irrelevant. Artists release albums (well, good artists) to make a statement from a place and time, to tie disparate elements of emotional resonance together through a collection of songs that work within the album itself. I still love this, and I still mostly listen to records in their entirety (although with so much music to choose from now, I find this difficult some days).

My point is that, I feel slightly sad that our generation of "give-me-what-I-want" cherry-picking has dulled the importance of the album format, and the significance of what an artist's vision can be. Albums are released everyday, but most people pick a few songs on iTunes, throw them onto the iPhone or other listening device and press shuffle. That's it. Instant playlist personal radio. Is there something wrong with this? Of course not. Do I do the same thing sometimes? Of course I do. But I think it's important now, more than ever, to stop every once in a while and listen to the whole album. From beginning to end. On repeat. In the shower. While you float off to sleep. In the car. On the bus. Walking. Biking. You get the picture.

I'm sad to hear that we are finally reaching absolute record lows in album sales, because it means the change in the collective mentality is shifting irrevocably in a direction that favours the single over the album. And while that might be where popular music started in the first place, I'm still sad to see the era of the album dwindle in importance.

But that's just my two cents.

ALBUM REVIEW: Blonde Redhead- Penny Sparkle (2010)

 

As is usually the case when indie darlings turn into symphonic beat-bearers for the calm-wave set, this album was derided with impossible expectations and flaunted as a failure upon its release in 2010. But if all you're looking for is a rehash of the early angular proto-prog-punk that made Blonde Redhead dreamboats for the critical acclaim they only sometimes actually got-- you're actually missing the point. Penny Sparkle doesn't nod in that direction at all. In fact, if you were to place 1997's Fake Can Be Just As Good beside Penny Sparkle to do a side-by-side comparison you'd actually believe it even less that the same band recorded both records. Have I used enough hyphens yet?

That's the thing with Blond Redhead. They've always had a weird, mysterious edge. As much as we're all tempted to turn away in disapproval over the sedated (read: BORING) sound of Penny Sparkle, a cursory listen doesn't even begin to reveal the charms it carries. This is an album that needs a soaking period. Actually I've only just started appreciating the album for what it is, and I've been trying since it was released. Maybe it's because I am laying in bed at 1:05 am and I've got the munchies. Maybe not. Stay with me, I promise I'll explain.

Penny Sparkle. The name itself has a certain ring to it. At once an atiquated image, and at once a mood descriptor, it functions on many levels. Even if you don't derive any meaning from the title, once you start unpacking the sound of the record, there's a duality obviously at play. What should Blonde Redhead be, now that they've proven they can triangulate the shit out of a slanted pop hook? What can they conjure with their arguably outdated (but still cool as hell) bag of tricks?

Well, conjure they certainly do. This album is probably the most mysteriously deceptive of any in their canon. Really. Don't believe what all the "fans" told you, this isn't Blonde Redhead: The Senile Years just yet. No, Penny Sparkle revolves and revokes itself from view. It spins and shatters, repeats and replays, and the trance it creates is hard to ignore. That doesn't mean it's an easy record to love, or even to appreciate. No, you have to shut out the world, and tune in. You have to breathe and close your eyes, you have to dive and take a chance. Let your guard down. Sit in awhile. Stop hurrying to the next track. This album deserves a full spin and a rainy day. If that makes any sense.

Blond Redhead have finalized their conversion to synthesizers and drum machines. We all saw this coming, and we all decided if we liked this side of the band a long time ago. If you do, you'll find charms aplenty peppered all over Penny Sparkle. If you didn't, you probably won't stick around long enough to find them. But it's still your call.

MOVIE REVIEW: Side Effects (2013)

Starring: Rooney Mara, Channing Tatum, Jude Law, Catherine Zeta-Jones

So I went to see Side Effects last night, and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. I had only seen a few ads for the movie but decided it looked at least interesting, at worst convoluted. Thankfully, it landed more on the side of the former. Although, truth be told, some of it was convoluted. But that’s ok.

We start off with a movie about a very depressed woman (Rooney Mara) greeting her husband (Channing Tatum) as he is released from prison after a 5 year stint for insider trading. Emily (Mara’s character) has seen a landslide of bad circumstances pull the ground out from underneath her. We understand and empathize with her plight, and when she drives her car into a parking garage wall (but survives), we really do understand her frustration and inability to cope with her current circumstances. At the hospital, she meets a very empathetic psychiatrist and is prescribed anti-depressant medication and a schedule of therapy before being released. The movie is in slow-motion for a while, as we sit and wonder how much more brooding and pill-popping we can possibly endure. And then the first twist.

Soon we are plunged into a movie that is all thrilling twists and turns, sub-plots and double-crosses, triple-crosses and quick changes, that turn Side Effects into something entirely different than I was prepared for. I can’t tell you what happens— the movie would surely be spoiled if I did— but I can tell you it’s worth the wait to be plunged into the dark underbelly of scandal, the repercussions of prescription drugs, and the dark mind of a woman who never is what she claims to be.

Both Rooney Mara and Jude Law turn in totally compelling and riveting performances. Rooney's depressed and calculating Emily is a twist of a character that constantly keeps you wondering what's what and who's who-- a true testament to her deadpan style, her cloying cuteness, and her ability to subvert convention. Jude Law puts on a very convincing performance as her psychiatrist, a conflicted but well-mannered and professional guy who gets caught up and pulled into circumstances that force him to dig deep and find ingenious ways to pull himself out of the murk. It's clever, the way the movie focuses on his mental state, and the way he is able to not only ward off the crazies but remind everyone else why his line of work is the perfect fit. I don't know if I'm talking about Law or his character, but the point is valid either way.

Director Steven Soderbergh claims this will be his final film. I don’t think that’s going to be true, considering the acclaim he has received in the past, and the acclaim this film is already getting, but c’est la vie if it is. He goes out with a bang, and while this movie isn’t perfect, it surely surpasses most of the would-be thrillers that attempt what this film actually pulls off. We don’t sit there force-fed details that miraculously come together, we watch the movie unfold and transform, taking us under bit-by-bit. It’s a glorious display of cinematic tension and flair for detail that turns Side Effects into something more satisfying than your average popcorn-flick. 

It’s a movie about the duality of the human mind, and the way we attempt to control and subvert our own emotions and thought processes. But it’s also a movie about deception, yearning, unfulfilled dreams, and how life can only hurt you so much before you inevitably hurt back. Take a chance and have an open mind while watching.