Big Beat

Let me start off this brief review of It's Blitz!, the new record by downtown rock-aesthetes Yeah Yeah Yeah's, by saying that its album artwork is the most memorable I've seen in ages, rivaling even Spiritualized's stunning Ladies and Gentlemen We are Floating in Space and Fantomas' Delirium Cordia. It is a bit of a rarity nowadays for musicians, or, rather, the art departments of the record labels for which bands aim to move "units," to apply as much thought to the packaging of an album as much as its to the songs therein. A hearty bravissimo!, then, to artist-photographer Urs Fischer for having the technical capacity and artistic vision necessary to capture the temperament of a record that refuses to be held down, even by its own limitations.

The first few measures of the album's opener, "Zero," will tell long-time listeners that Yeah Yeah Yeah's find themselves in a period of transition, growth, and, dare I say, "maturity" (if maturity means abandoning a formula that was already successful, deliriously so). Gone are the diamond-cut guitar lines of the band's debut, replaced with the decidedly more subtle textures of keyboards usually reserved for dance music, the song's propulsive rhythm framed around Karen O.'s distinctive cooing. And so it goes until midway through the album, where there's something of a shift in tenor, as though the band decided to abandon its experiment and embrace once again the chug-chug-chug of Marshall-driven rock music.

In this context, Yeah Yeah Yeah's, the 2.0 version are, in essence, a dance band for listeners, the hip and uncool alike, who lift hairbrushes to their mouths and gyrate in bedrooms while no one is around, because such is the fantasy that dance music generates. This change in approach can be a little jarring, given that this is a band that once opened for the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion (remember them?) at the Knitting Factory, which once relied on dirty aggression and the sort of detachment which marked one's membership into the privileged circles of indie rock fanatics. Ah, but if only things were so simple: the most effective, kinetic song on this record is "Dull Life," a track that relies on Nick Zinner's tunefully aware guitar; it rocks, plain and simple, which is a reminder why YYY's were so popular in the first place.

Here's to hoping that the band doesn't entirely turn its back on its substantive strengths for the sake of creating a mood, a tone. Incidentally, the Yeah Yeah Yeah's are the musical guest on "Saturday Night Live" tonight.

HOT WAX:

"Dull Life"

"Softshock"

Neither Hello Nor Goodbye

There are some songs, by virtue of their arrangements or lyrics, carefully laid out, which ask you, time and again, from the deepest recesses of your brain to the most open of tunnels, to give them your undivided attention, and which remind you, with all sincerity, that there is more to your simple life than the waiting to which you've grown accustomed. Oh, these songs are rare, they offer infrequent visits, but when they do arrive, you cannot help but say yes, cannot help but be taken by their insistence; the only disappointment, like an orchid past its glory in a shaking hand, is that brevity continues to be their name.

For me, such a song is Bonnie "Prince" Billy's "I am Goodbye," from his new record, Beware.

Please follow the link, and enjoy.

Love,
[D | R]

Border Crossing

A few years ago a young musician, Zach Condon, under the guise of "Beirut," released an album called Gulag Orkestar, a record that displayed a fascinatinon with sounds from Eastern Europe, and which became a favorite with the cognoscenti over at Pitchfork. I must admit that I find the recent tendency in indie-rock to absorb, if not appropriate, "world" music and repackage it for a hipster audience rather unsettling, as though the music somehow needs to be reworked, reformulated (read: watered down and bastardized). Having said that, there is no denying that Condon's songwriting talents are genuine and immense, and there is no doubting his sincerity; his music, and our troubled ears, would suffer otherwise. As Beirut, in releases like Lon Gisland and The Flying Cub Cup, Condon has taken the best of disparate, wide-ranging rhythms and taken them on as his own. In this way, Condon uses a very post-modern approach to music; he is not, as some might suggest, a cultural thief who is only interested in the new and "exotic."

Beirut's newest release, March of the Zapotec/Realpeople: Holland, finds the ever-precocious Condon, a young man still in his early twenties, looking southward, to the Mexican state of Oaxaca, from which he drew inspiration for the record's first half (more on Realpeople: Holland, later). Working with a local, nineteen-piece brass band called the Jimenez Band, Condon relies upon traditional instrumentation and patterns to striking effect, resulting in songs that look to the past as much as they look to the future. On March of the Zapotec, Condon and his bandmates come through as restless recorders of the troubled and weary, and turn on a new definition of popular music, but make no mistake: this is not the soundtrack of nostalgia, this is not the diary of dusty, backwater afternoons. No, there is something far more important here, if only felt and not seen.

My favorite track of the first half of the album, "The Akara," is a mid-tempo song with enough pathos to suffocate a class of wayward schoolchildren. The song opens with a few measures of a plaintive horn line, making it sound like a funeral dirge, before that instrument de rigeur, the ukele, ushers in a steady, military beat. Once Condons voice, surprisingly deep and rich, enters, one cannot but feel the melancholy reflected in the track's lyrics: so long to these to these kite strings / so long / I've been saved before, I'm saved once more. One can only wonder what Condon may have experienced, or may have imagined, during his time in Oaxaca, a historical region of Mexico that has recently seen its share of political violence.

The second half of the album, credited to Condon's earlier musical incarnation, Realpeople, is electronic music that leans toward bouncy, glitchy beats, as in "My Night With the Prostitute from Marseilles." While electronic music--no matter how pop its sensibilities--can feel cold and removed from anything resembling emotion, songs like "Venice" do much to infuse Realpeople: Holland with a warmth missing so much from its contemporaries.

Beirut, the band, on the Internet:
Official homepage
Myspace

[D | R]

This Is How We Build a Place

Of all the records I've heard this year, there has been just one that has kept me bright, open, and, best of all, dancing: Antidotes, by Oxford-based Foals. Continuing the heritage of sharp, angular post-punk of Gang of Four and Franz Ferdinand (with some traces of Wire for good measure), Foals' focus is on the immediate pleasures that are centered in the hips. At the same time, Foals, anchored ever-so-steadily by drummer Jack Bevan, somehow manage to sound as serious (or just so) as their more cerebrally-minded predecessors. Now, what helps this band so much is the use of a horn section, the cutting tone of which serves as something more than an accent, works more than an afterthought; it's a shame, however, given the instrument's punchy nature, that the horns were essentially buried in the final mix under a hailstorm of guitar- and bass-lines.

While the criticism that Foals' music isn't new or even all that interesting might very well be true, there's alot to be said, I think, for reminding listeners that music can, and should, remain the safest escape route from "the lighthouse (that) is an accident."

I'm particularly fond of "Olympic Airways," "The French Open," "Cassius," and--fuck it--I'm just going to say that I'm all over this record.

*

Anyone with half of a brain cell--or at least those who don't entirely consume their political coverage from Fox News--who saw last week's vice-presidential debate understood that the victor, clearly, was Joe Biden. On matters ranging from foreign policy to the economy, Biden, unlike the "debater" standing a few feet away from him, answered the questions that were directed at him, and he held back some of the sharp tongue that has gotten him into trouble in the past. Madame Governor, on the other hand, with her faux-populist leanings, ready-made zingers, and cutesy winks at the camera, proved evasive and insincere, and stood as something of a puppet for McCain's speech writers. (What price, desperation?)

What I found most troubling is the idea, as Maureen Dowd pointed out so insightfully in her column, that to be part of the "elite" necessarily means something sinister, misguiding, as though what we need in Washington are four more years of raging incompetence and tomfoolery. Oh, and let me just point out that Palin wants the Vice-Presidency to be granted more power, a black-black move given that the era of the most dangerous vice-president is about to end.

*

Homeward bound...

The Glory of Love

Aside from ace records by Spiritualized and Bonnie "Prince" Billy, there hasn't been all that much to listen to--until now at least. The newest from Stereolab is due out next month, and Primal Scream's tenth full-length is released tomorrow. I'll be forking some cash over to my local, friendly record store clerk very, very soon. Sizzle!

Stereolab - Chemical Chords - [4AD]

Primal Scream - Beautiful Future - [Warner Bros.]

Fresh Platters

Here are a couple of records--including the newest by Supergrass--that are worth some of your precious time and money:

Supergrass - Diamond Hoo Ha - [Astralwerks/EMI; 2008]

Band of Horses - Cease to Begin - [Sub Pop; 2007]


Choice traxxx include:

Band of Horses - "Is There a Ghost," "No One's Gonna Love You"
Supergrass - "Diamond Hoo Ha Man," "Ghost of a Man," "When I Needed You"

[D | R]

Strictly for the Birds

As I was eating my lunch earlier today in a park just outside the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, I noticed a small bird just beyond my feet. I briefly considered throwing it a small piece of bread off the PB & J sandwich that LM had so kindly prepared for me, but thought against it. A few minutes later, I felt wings brushing up against my left hand, a sensation strange not only for its rarity, but also for its acute softness, quickly granted. I then looked down, again, at my feet, and saw that this same bird, a lark perhaps, had a sliver of bread in its beak. It then occurred to me that the avian interloper had just stolen a portion of a meal, so delicious and fresh, from its rightful owner. The bird, which much surely belong to a hitherto unknown species of animal prone to urban thievery, then flew into the waiting chasm of Trinity Place, where Alexander Hamilton must have called out to it from his grave.

*

The new EP by Brooklyn- and Chicago-based These Are Powers, Tarot Taro, suffers from ideas that are far too broad and loose, as though its creators were unable to agree on what chords to keep, on how to set their dirty impulses to tape (or Reason or whatever recording software the kids are using nowadays). But at least you can't say that their songs are devoid of spirit and drive; "Chipping Ice," for example, arguably the collection's best song, starts with an double-time snare drum pattern and just doesn't let up.

These Are Powers' abrasive energy, which can sound rather menacing, counts for plenty nowadays, whatwith positively dull bands like Low and Sigur Ros taking up precious space. The band, which features Pat Noecker (formerly of Liars) on bass, has previously released one full-length record, Terrific Seasons, which may or may not be terrific.

[D | R]

Album of the Week

A different kind of folk/indie/Americana/roots music album for the end of days; its "Where Is the Puzzle?" is the most moving song I've heard all year. Highly recommended!

Bonnie "Prince" Billy - Lie Down In the Light - [Drag City]