State Of The Pretzel Logic: November

Well, November didn’t exactly go as planned. My non-music-writing life caught up to me in a big way this past month and I’ve had the rabid, academic monster known as college breathing down my neck. I’m still quite wrapped up in schoolwork, but hopefully I’ll find some time in the coming weeks to review a few albums before posting my Best Music of 2009 feature. I’m really looking forward to boiling an entire year’s worth of music down to a few key highlights.

In keeping with that theme, there’s one small change I want to make to album grades. The Mars Volta’s Octahedron is losing half a pretzel, dropping it down to a still respectable 4 pretzels. Octahedron is the album I’ve listened to the least among my overall favorites from the year and upon further listens, it doesn’t quite have the spark I thought I heard when I first listened to the album. These things happen.

There are only a few albums I know I want to review in December. The Portishead offshoot Beak>’s debut album is one of them, as is Clipse’s Til The Casket Drops. Despite being released months ago, Dark Night Of The Soul deserves some coverage as well. Devendra Banhart, Them Crooked Vultures and 50 Cent round out the list of intriguing albums that are coming in during these closing moments of the decade. Finally, should Lil Wayne’s Rebirth actually be released this month, you can be sure I’ll have lots to write about it.

I want to thank everyone who’s been reading Pretzel Logic thus far. 2009 (and the 2000s) are almost over, meaning there’s going to be a lot of music talk going on. I enjoy adding my own voice to that mix.

Bookends

Artist: Animal Collective

Album: Fall Be Kind EP

Year: 2009

Grade: 4.5 pretzels

It feels appropriate that Animal Collective, who turned the world on end at the beginning of the year with their masterful Merriweather Post Pavilion, are closing this year out for us music listeners with the Fall Be Kind EP. In many ways, this has been the Year of Animal Collective. Their music has been great and their expansive, lush sound has been creeping into many of the other major indie releases of the year (Atlas Sound’s Logos is just the tip of the iceburg). I started this year as one of their biggest skeptics, but (almost) twelve months later, I’ve been converted into a believer. Fall Be Kind is just the cherry on the top of a banner year for the Baltimore band.

Fall Be Kind is definitely an outgrowth of Merriweather’s soupy, organic sound. The opening track, “Graze”, is all cinematic, widescreen electronic textures, with Avey Tare’s voice languidly stretching all over the music. The song itself “wakes up” over the course of its five-and-a-half minutes, eventually morphing into a flute-led energetic romp. However, this bright, upbeat song is somewhat unrepresentative of the rest of the music on the EP.

The most audible change in Animal Collective’s music is an emerging sense of darkness, seeping into the frame behind all the squelches and harmonized vocals. “On A Highway” is flag-bearer for this new sound and, in keeping with that role, has already begun polarizing AC fans. Personally, I wholeheartedly support the band following these moodier inclinations even further. “On A Highway” pairs a distant, eerie keyboard riff with a miasma of atmospheric sounds, abstractly conjuring up the noise blur of actual highway driving. The lyrics never quite synch up with the song’s rhythm, resulting in a disorienting and slightly uncomfortable song. Coming from a band that has built its reputation on hyper-colorful, whimsical electronics, I can see why older fans might be thrown for a bit of a loop.

The best intersection of these converging styles is the closing “I Think I Can”, with its insidiously catchy main riff and echoing percussion. Spread across seven minutes, “I Think I Can” really showcases the new ways the band members are using space. While Merriweather felt comfortingly dense, Fall Be Kind sounds like it was recorded in a cathedral. These songs have lots of air and room to breathe, but with that space comes a certain ominous feeling. This EP is clearly the next step in Animal Collective’s continuing evolution, retaining enough of the past to keep fans from going crazy, but determinedly looking forward. It’s becoming almost unthinkable that I basically hated this band a year ago. Their body of work over the past twelve months is virtually peerless.

My Top Drummers, Pt. 5

#2
Name: Stewart Copeland
Associated Bands: The Police

While all three members of the Police don’t get enough credit for the instrumental skills, Stewart Copeland’s flowing, complicated drum patterns deserve the most praise. Finding a middle-ground between rock’s force, jazz’s subtlety and reggae’s emphasis of off-beats, Copeland’s work as a member of the Police is exquisitely intricate and smooth. His snare hits always have a startling crack to them, giving songs some energy, but his crisp cymbal-playing recalls the steady beats of jazz. To top it all off, you’ve got the drum breakdown in the middle of “Walking On The Moon”, which threatens to fly off the rhythmic rails entirely but still somehow works.

Required Listening: “Walking On The Moon”, “Driven To Tears”, “Spirits In The Material World”

#1
Name: Phil Selway
Associated Bands: Radiohead

Most of the drummers on this list play in rock bands, but few really play in that heavy, forceful style usually associated with rock music. Those that do (McNeilly, Dailor, Carey) are noteworthy for their intricacy or unearthly sharpness. Phil Selway is amazing because he can do both. To this day, I’ve never heard as drummer as versatile as this bald, mild-mannered Englishman. As Radiohead has warped and evolved creatively over the years, Selway has been there all along, contributing whatever types of rhythm the band needs at the time. He can play smash-your-face-in-rock, or he can dial it way back and play funereal jazz. He has even sampled and programmed drum tracks on Radiohead’s more techno-influenced material. Phil Selway is the Swiss Army knife of drummers, ready and willing to supply the perfect rhythm for every musical problem imaginable.

Required Listening: “My Iron Lung”, “Climbing Up The Walls”, “Dollars & Cents”

My Top Drummers, Pt. 4

#4
Name: Danny Carey
Associated Bands: Tool

My high school-era love for Tool has faded greatly, but my respect and appreciation for Danny Carey’s mind-warpingly intricate drummer remains. Most metal drummers favor speed and soul-crushing power, but Carey’s brilliance lies in his subtly and overall restraint. While he can certainly shift into higher gears when a song demands it, his best moments are when he unleashes nuanced, detailed drum patterns that twist and squirm. He has an unpredictable, technically demanding style that suits Tool’s music perfectly. Even with all myths about his supposed “unicursal hexagram” patterns, Carey’s is one impressive drummer.

Required Listening: “Prison Sex”, “Schism”, “Vicarious”

#3
Name: Pete de Freitas
Associated Bands: Echo & The Bunnymen

The postpunk years contained many incredible, unique drummers, but none stand as high as the late, great Pete de Freitas. His playing in Echo & The Bunnymen is veritable whirlwind of percussion, surging forward with more energy than any of his peers. While he shared his precise sound with drummers such as Joy Division’s Stephen Morris, de Freitas never became one of those human drum machines, devoid of primal, rhythmic energy. His drumming always sounded wonderfully, thrillingly alive, which made his death in a motorcycle accident 1989 all the more tragic.

Required Listening: “Crocodiles”, “All My Colours”, “Back Of Love”

My Top Drummers, Pt. 3

#6
Name: Stephen Morris
Associated Bands: Joy Division, New Order

Drums are usually associated with a certain raw, primal energy and drummers are expected to tap into that with an appropriate passion. However, there are those drummers, like Stephen Morris, who seem perfectly content to play like a human drum machine. Steady as a metronome and often utilizing odd combinations of drums and electronic percussion, Morris’ work in both Joy Division and New Order formed unrelenting musical bedrock. There’s not much soul or power in his drumming, but that stark, mechanical coldness proves to be just as compelling.

Required Listening: “She’s Lost Control”, “Atrocity Exhibition”, “A Means To An End”

#5
Name: Brann Dailor
Associated Bands: Mastodon

Metal has long been the natural habit for insanely virtuosic drumming. The speed and sheer heaviness of the music lets drummers really showcase their dexterity and chops. However, the first metal drummer to really separate himself from the rest of the double-bass-drum-pounding pack was Mastodon’s Brann Dailor. On one level, he’s just ridiculously fast. Dailor’s drumsticks whip around that kit faster than the human eye can really track. At the same time, however, there’s a weird and not-always identifiable oddness to his drum patterns that really makes them stick in your mind. His stuttering, off-rhythm snare hits and ominously skipping cymbals help Mastodon create their uniquely masterful sound.

Required Listening: “March Of The Fire Ants”, “Seabeast”, “Crystal Skull”

My Top Drummers, Pt. 2

#8
Name: ?uestlove
Associated Bands: The Roots

Needless to say, as one of the few full-time rap drummers, ?uestlove has a unique style. The Roots identity is built around the fact that they’re a live band, not just a series of programmed beats and ?uestlove’s heavy percussion really drives that point home. While he still provides the sharp, crisp rhythms you’d expect from rap, his clattering drumming also has an organic, immediate quality to it, far removed from the slightly stale cut-and-pasted feel you get on normal rap beats. Add in his penchant for unorthodox drum sounds, like the trash-can-like crashes throughout “In The Music”, and you’ve got a wonderfully compelling and original drummer on your hands.

Required Listening: “The Seed (2.0)”, “In The Music”, “Get Busy”

#7
Name: Ginger Baker
Associated Bands: Cream, Blind Faith

Ok, so, sure, Ginger Baker has unleashed more than a few horrendously long drum solos in his lifetime. He’s definitely part of an older generation of drummers, who held showmanship and extravagance higher than the post-Bonham crowd might. But what separates Baker from the rest of those showoffs is his thunderous, tribal rhythms and intricate, jazz-influenced syncopation. In many ways, he’s just not a rock drummer. His patterns and fills are too nuanced and expressive to fit into the stereotype of the snare-pummeling lunkhead. Inventive and hard to predict, Baker has rightfully been given a place in the pantheon of great drummers.

Required Listening: “We’re Going Wrong”, “Deserted Cities Of The Heart”, “Had To Cry Today”

My Top Drummers, Pt. 1

So far here on Pretzel Logic, I’ve covered my all time favorite bassists (and instrument I play proficiently) and guitarists (an instrument I dabble around with). Therefore, it’s time to move on to an instrument I can’t even attempt to play well: drums! This month, I’m showcasing ten of my favorite drummers, drawn from a wide range of diverse musical styles. Now, as a non-drummer, I’m not really in a position to say how these drummers match up from a technical standpoint. All I know is that these ten men (female drummers seem few and far between) have managed to stick out in my mind over the years. While you won’t find any John Bonhams or Keith Moons here, these are the drummers who’ve lifted themselves beyond simple rhythm to become an integral part in my musical enjoyment of their bands.

#10
Name: Levon Helm
Associated Bands: The Band

While I may not nessicarily agree with Levon Helm’s hilariously stereotypical, “the south shall rise again” politics, there’s no denying that the man can absolutely make drums sing. Of course, he also sings himself on many of the band’s songs, but it’s his expressive flourishes and tendency to fall behind the count ever-so-slightly that really gives his patterns and drum riffs character. The Band thrived on their rural, curled-in-front-of-the-fire vibe and Helm’s charmingly simplistic drumming really added to that atmosphere.

Required Listening: “The Night The Drove Old Dixie Down”, “Up On Cripple Creek”, “Jawbone”

#9
Name: Mac McNeilly
Associated Bands: The Jesus Lizard

In the early part of their career, the Jesus Lizard depended on a drum machine to supply rhythm*. Then Mac McNeilly arrived and catapulted the band into the stratosphere. Heavy-hitting and muscular, McNeilly’s tight, virtually lockstep rhythms are integral in holding the Lizard’s chaotic music together. His pummeling snare hits and cacophonous cymbal crashes also give the band’s music a violent, powerful edge, hitting you hard in your chest while the rest of the band attacks your ears and better judgment.

Required Listening: “Nub”, “Puss”, “Destroy Before Reading”

*A sidenote: Big Black’s Roland, a drum machine credited as a full member of the band in press material, was #11 on this list.

Blast From The Past

Artist: Girls

Album: Album

Year: 2009

Grade: 4.5 pretzels

Joining the xx in this year’s sweepstakes for “Indie Band With The Most Un-Googleable Name”, San Francisco’s Girls are definitely one of the most buzzed-about new acts of the year. Their debut album, Album (that was really fun to write), has passed the Pitchfork test and various other publications have been lining up behind them, praising the band’s retro-thinking, insidiously catchy style. While, personally, I’m not quite ready to jump on the “best-band-since-sliced-bread” bandwagon, I have to admit that Album has far too many irresistible songs to be ignored.

I mean, opening an album with the one-two knockout punch of “Lust For Life” and “Laura” is just unfair. The former is all jangle and trebly guitar chords, topped by Christopher Owens’ exuberant vocal performance. To follow that with the mid-tempo balladry of “Laura” creates a brilliant opening. So good, in fact, that the rest of the album struggles to keep pace. The rest of the album is full of songs that harken back to both the fuzzy romance of 50s rock & roll and the nerdish pining of Elvis Costello. It doesn’t hurt that Owens posses the same nasal croon as Costello, either. But nowhere on Album can you find songs that match the opening pair.

Not that the rest is just filler, mind you. The band’s first single, “Hellhole Ratrace”, justifies most of the praise that’s been lavished upon it, even despite the fact that it’s about three minutes too long. The album’s closing trio also put up a solid fight, best heard on the dark, sonically violent (and slightly ironically named) “Morning Light”. It’s on during the album’s middle section that things start to feel a bit undercooked. “Big Bad Mean Motherfucker” is the kind of song you’re amazed hasn’t been written before…and that’s not really a good thing. Likewise, “Summertime” never quite transforms into anything more than a generic, California-obsessed ballad. These missteps are still more than listenable, however. They just remind you that this is, after all, a debut album. Girls still have ways to grow and evolve.

The media overplays Owens’ background, growing up with the Children of God cult. For all the talk about how Album is a dramatic example of someone breaking out of the boundaries that have been placed upon them, the album sounds pretty predictable. It succeeds, however, because it delivers exactly what you’d expect really, really well. These songs sound like they’ve just escaped from a 50s diner, malts and burgers in hand, but in the best way possible. Album does more than just ape the past. It manages the very difficult task of reminding us of the past while still sounding timeless.

Brace Yourself For Disappointment

Well, apparently, the Who are going to be playing at this year’s Super Bowl halftime show. I, for one, find this a completely logical choice. When I think about the NFL, I envision a couple of decrepit Brits desperately trying to recapture their former glory. What? You don’t get that image in your mind? Odd…

But seriously…after the dynamic performance Bruce Springsteen (the ageless wonder) turned in last year, how are the husks of a couple of formerly great musicians going to be anything other than disappointing? Townshend will pull out a couple of those guitar windmills and Daltrey will, uh, be Roger Daltrey. But there’s no way around the fact that the Who haven’t done anything culturally relevant in decades. Sit back and prepare to be bored.

Also, I wonder how many younger viewers will hear them and think “Hey! They’re playing the CSI theme song!”

Playing Catch-Up, Part 3

Artist: Gossip

Album: Music For Men

Year: 2009

Grade: 3.5 pretzels

Before reviewing Music For Men, I need to impress upon people the sheer, explosive energy of Gossip’s live performances. If you ever get a chance to see them live, do not hesitate to go. Do whatever you can to get tickets. Maul people, if you have to. Whether you’re a big fan of their music or not, Gossip are just way too fun to miss live. Beth Ditto’s world-quaking voice has no comparison and the rock-solid grooves the band locks into make not dancing an impossibility. This is music that compels you to move, in whatever way you feel appropriate, doing whatever it can to keep you from standing still. I bring all this up for one very important reason: Music For Men doesn’t even capture a tenth of this energy.

Not that the songs aren’t there. “Love Long Distance”, with that insidious little piano riff, is a top-notch, single-worthy track. The stomping “Pop Goes The World” is a fantastic dance-oriented jam. Topping everything off is “Heavy Cross”, a ferocious, growling beast that features guitar leaping from tension-building scratches to a completely unhinged chorus riff. While they may not have the fire of “Standing In The Way Of Control”, the song that put Gossip on the map, at least 80% of these songs are worthy additions to the Gossip songbook. They’ve just had all their fangs removed by the production.

The man I’m choosing to blame is producer-to-the-stars Rick Rubin (his clients have included the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the Beastie Boys and Slayer, to name only a few). Thanks to Rubin’s influence, Music For Men is Gossip’s first major-label release. However, his production is terrifyingly slick, polished and smooth. Gossip are a band that celebrate and flaunt what others would call flaws, so a certain level of gritty audio mixing is appropriate. On this new album, all those thrilling rough edges are sand-blasted away to make the band more radio-friendly. The results are songs like “Dimestore Diamond” and “Men In Love”, which sound thin and slightly empty. Guitarist Brace Paine isn’t given the chance to dominate these songs the way he does live, removing one of the most exciting and necessary elements in Gossip’s music.

The upside to all this is that Hannah Blilie’s drums are suddenly pushed to the forefront, in all their chugging, unstoppable glory. The rhythm in these songs is just insane. The tense, angular “Vertical Rhythm” shows the subtle end of the band’s spectrum. Rubin’s production is actually very appropriate for these slow-burning numbers. Sadly, “Heavy Cross” is alone when it comes to sheer rocking power. Gossip are at their strongest when Ditto and co. are at their most brazen. This is a band who challenges our perceptions of human sexuality on paper (gay and lesbian themes dominate the lyrics) and who challenges our perceptions of beauty onstage (Ditto is quite a large woman, Paine has a penchant for dressing in bondage gear and Blilie rocks a very androgynous look. Just check out that cover). They need to tear the roof down if the song demands it and Rubin’s toothless production takes too much of the danger and fun out of an exciting band.

Playing Catch-Up, Part 2

Artist: Volcano Choir

Album: Unmap

Year: 2009

Grade: 3 pretzels

Volcano Choir’s Unmap is another critically lauded album that has evaded me for some time now. Volcano Choir is less of a full band and more of a collaboration between the band Collections Of Colonies Of Bees (don’t worry, I’ve never heard of them either) and Justin Vernon, better known as Bon Iver, who’s For Emma, Forever Ago has highlighted Best Of The Year charts for the past two years (due to two separate releases). All these musicians are Wisconsin natives and together they’ve created an album that fits nicely into the charmingly folky reputation people associate with the Cheese State.

Or does it? While Vernon’s warm, hushed vocals set a tone of fire-side strumming and acoustic pleasantness, when you actually dig in and listen to Unmap, you realize how unusual this album really ended up being. “Island, IS” seems like a lilting little acoustic ditty until you notice the subtle keyboards squeaking in the background. “Mbira In The Morass” is much more obvious in its strangeness, as a variety of non-traditional percussive elements clank and chime away, while Vernon’s voice takes on a much more angular tone. The minute-long “Cool Knowledge” gets ripped apart halfway through by some thudding drums. “Still” actually has Auto-Tuned vocals! You wish I was kidding about that.

Unmap is secretly a very experimental record. The risks the musicians are taking are quite subtle (most of the time, Auto-Tune notwithstanding), but at least one detailed listen reveals the odd sonic complexity oozing right beneath the surface. Mercifully, few of these elements feel intentionally “challenging,” in that cerebral, confrontational kind of way. They mostly just sound like off-the-wall ideas that someone thought sounded really good within the context of the song.

Which brings us to the album’s greatest flaw. While Unmap has all these great, unusual touches, they’re grafted onto a set of songs that go virtually nowhere. Either they end up too short to stretch out completely or they just wander on for six minutes until you’re completely sick of them, no matter how many soup cans they’re using for drums. While unintelligible lyrics aren’t a bad thing in the abstract, here, they just underscore the frustrating lack of musical solid ground for the listener to stand on. Unmap is a strange sonic soup of an album, with unexpected musical elements occasionally floating through a broth of folky traditionalism. There are tasty moments, but you end up a bit frustrated once you’ve eaten all the substance and you’re left a bowlful of boring music to slurp down.

Playing Catch-Up, Part 1

Artist: Neon Indian

Album: Psychic Chasms

Year: 2009

Grade: 2.5 pretzels

As much as I try to keep up with the latest exciting or buzzed-about releases, things do occasionally slip through the cracks or escape my notice. One of these is Neon Indian’s Psychic Chasms, which has been floating around for about a month now. The usual suspects (Pitchfork and the blog community) have lavished this album with praise, so it’s about time I weighed in with my own opinions.

First of all, before you can talk about the album itself, you have to talk about “Deadbeat Summer”, the album’s lead single and all-around calling card. In and of itself, “Deadbeat Summer” is a wonderfully blissed-out little nugget of indie-pop, bouncing and gurgling along without a care in the world. If I heard this song in, say, the middle of July, I’m sure I’d be listening to it about eighty times per day. Now that we’re in the middle of November and I’m greeted by the biting New England wind every time I walk out the door, it’s a bit of a different experience, but the song’s cheerfulness still shines through.

The problem with Psychic Chasms is that it fails to sound like anything more than a brightly-colored vehicle for this one great song. The synthy dance-jam “Terminally Chill” comes the closest to greatness in its own right, but the rest of the album just sounds way too thin and undercooked. There are only about four complete songs here, with the rest of the album dedicated to sonic soundscapes and sketches that might have grown into something more interesting, if given the time. Yet, here they are on Psychic Chasms, sent out into the world long before they’re ready to face the light of day.

Neon Indian’s primary composer, Alan Palomo, clearly has a yearning for the expansively electronic music of the mid-80s. Shades of New Order are all over the album, along with some New Romantic sparkle and even some bubblegum pop air-headedness. Despite the variety of negative connatotaions we associate with those genres, Neon Indian have boiled them down into something that is both pleasantly nostalgic and quite modern. The idea and the sound they’re working with seems like a lot of fun. If only there were a few more actual songs amid all the burbling keyboards and springy drum machine loops. “Deadbeat Summer” is only the first step. Psychic Chasms just doesn’t follow through on that single song’s promise.

Keepin' Up The Good Work

Artist: Atlas Sound

Album: Logos

Year: 2009

Grade: 3.5 pretzels

I was late to jump on the Deerhunter bandwagon. While various chunks of the music community immediately attached themselves to the Atlanta-based band’s dreamy, meandering sound, it took me a couple of years (and a very impressive live show) to see the quality songwriting hiding beneath all the shoegaze-lite guitar strumming. Over the past six months, I’ve cracked one of the many musical mysteries I’ve been trying to solve, meaning this is the perfect time for me to hear Logos, the second solo album from Deerhunter’s frontman, Bradford Cox.

Again recorded under the moniker Atlas Sound, Logos is a considerably more coherent and unified work than last year’s Let The Blind Lead Those Who Can See But Cannot Feel. Even more organic and babbling than Deerhunter, Cox’s solo songs strip away most of the shimmering guitars in favor of warm acoustic guitar strumming, supplemented by layered keyboards and minimal, efficient drumming. This fairly skeletal sound reveals the songs’ odd twists and turns, featuring all kinds of pleasantly atonal details floating through the mix.

Of course, the downside to this style (and all of Deerhunter’s work, for that matter), is that the songs can get so wispy that they threaten to float right out the window. Roughly half of Logos compensates for this with winning melodies or other compelling elements, but “Kid Klimax” or “Criminals” will pass by unnoticed if you’re not careful. The songs aren’t exactly boring, but they don’t draw attention to themselves. The album’s highest points, including the endlessly hummable “Sheila” and the squelchy “Walkabout” (featuring Animal Collective’s Noah Lennox), are the songs that force the listener to interact with them in some way.

Logos is very good by the usual solo album standards. It has its own distinctive qualities that separate it from Cox’s work in Deerhunter, while still retaining enough similarities that fans should embrace it pretty much wholeheartedly. It also features a handful of truly memorable songs, which rank among some of the most enjoyable indie pop in years. The other songs do let the album down somewhat, but I’m not going to kick the proverbial gift horse in the mouth, here. “Walkabout” alone justifies this album’s existence and it’s nice to see Cox maintain his insanely rapid rate of new music releases.

Some Songs Are Better Than Others

Artist: Morrissey

Album: Swords

Year: 2009

Grade: 3 pretzels

2009 was an important year for Morrissey. First of all, everyone's favorite curmudgeon turned fifty back in May (presumably, he had an “unhappy birthday”). However, second and more importantly, he released Years Of Refusal in February, a strong, assured album that capped a tremendous comeback decade for Moz. Combined with You Are The Quarry (2004) and Ringleader Of The Tormentors (2006), Morrissey’s work these past ten years has reassured the world that the Mozfather isn’t fading into obscurity as he ages. Not unlike Nick Cave, who is still rocking hard at fifty-one, Morrissey is entering his fourth decade in the music industry on a very strong note.

However, as the last dregs of the 2000s float around, Morrissey is releasing one final album, Swords, compiling the assorted b-sides that accompanied his past three albums. This makes sense on a number of levels. For one, those three albums will always be grouped together by music historians, hopefully as Morrissey’s “renaissance period.” Having all their outtakes grouped together is convenient for fans and underlines the albums’ trilogy-like status. Morrissey has also established a precedent for releasing compilation albums, giving his fans more and more of the moody babble and anti-social moaning they love so much (I say that with affection, Moz). Finally, if nothing else, it gives the world more of Morrissey’s amazing song-titles.

I mean, really, how does this man come up with this stuff? “If You Don’t Like Me, Don’t Look At Me”? “Friday Mourning”? Perhaps best of all, Swords offers up “Don’t Make Fun Of Daddy’s Voice”. While the actual track is a lackluster guitar cruncher marred by some misplaced keyboards, just reading that song title makes me grin (an experience foreign to Morrissey himself). As is occasionally the case with Moz, the idea is better than the actual execution and most of the songs here are better quips than they are songs. However, there’s nothing truly abysmal, with the possible exception of the shapeless “Sweetie-Pie”. These are b-sides and they sound the part. They would have dragged any album down a bit, but they’re still interesting to those deeply interested in Moz’s craft and bottomless depth for musical moping.

Swords doesn’t have too much value for casual Morrissey fans (although a fiery cover of Bowie’s “Drive-In Saturday” is nothing short of awesome). Those interested in buying into the cult of Mozzer are encouraged to pick up his aforementioned three proper albums of the decade, along with his very solid work from the early 90s. Once you’ve thoroughly absorbed those basics, you should be ready to dive into Swords, which features a less polished, but still rewarding side to the man’s songwriting.

Not Even An Echo Of The Past

Artist: Echo & The Bunnymen

Album: The Fountain

Year: 2009

Grade: 1.5 pretzels

No band wants to be saddled with a “sell-by date” by critics and fans. In a perfect world, great bands would keep releasing great music until they decided to call it a day. However, that idealistic dream is far removed from the reality of things. As much as us critics can sit here and discuss how an artist’s latest album sounds lazy or weak, the musicians themselves rely on releases to, y’know, make money and feed themselves and all that. This is a reality of being a working musician, especially once your glory years have faded into the past. However, this doesn’t make the albums in question any easier to listen to.

As much as I love their albums from the 80s, I’m the first person to admit that Echo & The Bunnymen should have packed it in back in 1989, when drummer Pete de Freitas died in a tragic motorcycle crash. De Freitas was a huge part of the Bunnymen’s sound and there was simply no way they’d ever be the same again. After an awkward album in 1990 (without singer Ian McCulloch to boot), they did actually break up. Yet, there was another reunion in 1996, this time with McCulloch back in the fold and it’s this version of the band that has limped along painfully over the past decade. The Fountain is their fourth album since then and it only reaffirms what any longtime Bunnymen fan already knows: the magic is gone and shows no signs of every coming back.

First, you’ve got McCulloch’s ragged voice. His original soaring bellow has been shredded by years of smoking and drinking and rock & roll lifestyle. It’s tragic to hear his once-majestic pipes reduced to something resembling gravel being mixed in a blender. His croaking and gasping gives these songs a sadly unintentional sense of sadness and futility. The Bunnymen are still writing the same evocative ballads as always…but the voice behind them has disintegrated beyond all recognition. When McCulloch asks “Don’t You Know Who I Am?”, he doesn’t realize how much irony he’s just stumbled into.

You also can’t ignore the fact that these songs just…well…blow viciously. There’s no polite way around it. There’s nothing memorable about 90% of the material here. Despite a bright, glistening production job, there’s just no substance. The opening “Think I Need It Too” is three-and-a-half minutes of fake drama and bombast, disguising Will Sergeant’s disappointingly simplistic guitar figures and the song’s tendency to just repeat itself over and over again. Even more hideous is “Shroud Of Turin”, featuring lyrics so appalling bad (“I love that you’re from Turin, I love that sweet sack you’re in”) that one wonders how nobody said anything during the recording sessions. McCulloch’s words have degenerated to the point of obnoxious old-man-puns. Please, make it stop. Be merciful!

Listening to The Fountain is almost physically painful for a huge Bunnymen fan such as myself. There’s just enough of the old Bunnymen here to remind the listener that this actually is the same band that recorded “The Killing Moon”. McCulloch and Sergeant have not aged gracefully and this dreary album is just the latest affirmation of that. Although there is a brief moment of hope towards the album’s end, in the form of the rolling “Drivetime”, The Fountain gives Bunnymen fans no reason to keep any last shreds of faith we may have in this band. Echo & The Bunnymen are over. Most fans have accepted this. Now, if only we could get the band to agree with us…

Who's Simon Defending Now?: Igor Stravinsky

(Due to Internet problems and college-related stresses, Pretzel Logic experienced some downtime this past week. However, things are now resolved and I’ll be posting at a slightly more rapid pace this upcoming week to compensate for missed time.)

I spend most of my time here on Pretzel Logic discussing what musicologists refer to as “popular music.” This poorly defined term describes virtually anything that doesn’t fit in the equally vague categories of “folk music” and “art music.” “Art music” is music supposedly informed by complicated musical relationships and so forth and so on… it’s what most people would call “classical music.” Now, as a diehard cultural postmodernist, I simply refuse to believe that music can be classified in such black and white terms. All these types of music blend and mix, creating the vast range of music the world knows and loves. Why do we need arbitrary dividing lines? In keeping with this line of thinking, this month’s Who's Simon Defending Now? is dedicated to the most badass, intense and all-around hardcore “art music” composer of the twentieth century: Igor (mo’fuckin’) Stravinsky!

Now, full disclose time: I’m not much of a musicologist. I’ve got a very limited understand of music theory and keys and diminished, Mixolydian quarter notes and so forth. I can’t talk about Stravinsky’s formal musical inventions from any real, educated place. All I can speak for is the way music makes me feel… which is precisely why I like Stravinsky’s music so much. His music doesn’t require focused cerebral scrutiny to be rewarding. He just assaults you with powerful emotions. Sounds good to me.

Particularly on two of his greatest ballets, The Rite Of Spring and The Firebird, the sheer power of Stravinsky hits you. His most bombastic sections abandon any attempt at sounding “pleasant,” usually resulting in a belligerent, atonal attack, full of screeching violins, blasting horns and some ruthless timpani. Just give a listen to the second part of Rite Of Spring (accompanied by Disney dinosaurs). An ominous build-up eventually culminates in a roaring, rhythmic motif, full of fear and anger and intensity. From its first subtle entrance on the horns all the way to its final, full-orchestra reemergence, it’s an unforgettable snippet of music.

Stravinsky was also a bit of a rock star in his time. When Rite Of Spring premiered in 1913, people, for lack of a better term, lost their collective shit. There were riots. There were tears. There were accusations that it “wasn’t music at all! Just noise!” Good ol’ Igor challenged the musical conventions of time, pushing highbrow music down a path that was too dark for many listeners. In tone, his music actually parallels (and preempts) so much of what modern hard rock and metal musicians have accomplished in the past forty years. Stravinsky confronted you with a cataclysmic collection of notes, played fast and loud, breaking away from the all-too-boring conventions of “nice and pretty” music. Just listen to the final segments of The Firebird (again, accompanied by Disney’s loving animations). How can you not pump your fist in the air during those last moments? The strings soar, the horns crash all around you, while the drums pound and hammer away. And the whole thing sounds absolutely majestic. “Art music” or not, “classical” or not… it makes no difference what genre it gets arbitrarily lumped into. It’s music that makes you feel something. That’s all I could ever want from a piece of music.

Here's Johnny!

Artist: The Cribs

Album: Ignore The Ignorant

Year: 2009

Grade: 2.5 pretzels

Ignore The Ignorant is never going to be given a fair chance. No critic is going to approach this album from a rational perspective, carefully looking at how it fits into the Cribs’ body of work. Instead, every person listening will immediately address the elephant in the room: this is guitarist Johnny Marr’s first album as an official band member. Maybe you’ve heard of Johnny’s first band. They were called the Smiths.

Mind you, music listeners have already dealt with this situation once before, back in 2007 when Marr hooked up with Modest Mouse for their We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank. Yet, after the initial flurry of incredulous stares and jaw-gapping wonderment had faded away, most people realized that Johnny’s actual musical contributions to that album were very subtle and not attention grabbing in any way. In Modest Mouse, Marr became just another guitarist, adding some nuances and texture to the band’s sound, but certainly not stealing the show the way he used to in the Smiths. Ignore The Ignorant is no different. While Marr’s name will bring this album a lot of press, his actual guitar playing remains somewhat in the background.

As for the Cribs’ themselves, the group of three English brothers at the core the band, they play the same, strident Brindie rock they’ve been playing for years. Unfortunately, their songwriting chops seem to have stumbled mightily on this new album. Until now, the Cribs could be relied on to deliver catchy songs at the very least, bursting at the seams with charming little guitar hooks that wormed their way into your ears. With Ignore The Ignorant, they seem to have aimed for “mature” songwriting, focusing more on their weighty lyrics and sonic adventurousness than catchy pop. However, most of what made them lovable gets thrown out in the process. Let’s compare this album’s lead single, “Cheat On Me”, with “Men’s Needs”, the lead single from 2007’s Men’s Needs, Women’s Needs, Whatever. Give ‘em a good listen. Which one do you really think you’re going to want to listen to more than twice?

Ignore The Ignorant just doesn’t seem comfortable with itself, as an entire album. The songs wander through semi-aimless chord progressions, while the dual vocals from Gary and Ryan Jarman rarely go beyond heavily accented barking and warbling. The rockers have an awkward desperateness to them, best heard on “We Were Aborted”, which can’t seem to decide which it wants to be: an angsty rock song or an anthemic pop single. Even the Smiths-aping “We Share The Same Skies”, which finally lets Marr do what he does best, falls a bit flat. Aside from the Sonic-Youth-lite guitar weirdness of “City Of Bugs”, the songs on Ignore The Ignorant are sadly forgettable. They don’t grab your attention, making the album’s title a bit of an ironic joke. The Cribs may have become the latest vehicle for Johnny Marr’s midlife crisis, but their lackluster songwriting lets everybody down.