Silversun Pickups’ latest album, Neck of the Woods, was released last week, and it’s stellar.
If you’re looking for a Panic Switch or Lazy Eye, you might end up disappointed – but if you’re interested in SSPU’s experimental side, this might turn out to be your cup of musical tea.
For one, this is a long album. There aren’t any short songs here; in fact they’re all pretty spread-out. The length of this record allows the band to really go down new avenues. Skin Graph, the album’s 6-minute opener, sets the tone amicably. A slow intro gives way to shimmery guitars and a blast of drums, and it isn’t until nearly the 3-minute mark that the song has its “chorus”.
People have always tended to point out the band’s not-so-hidden love for the shoegaze-y, distorted, moody alternative rock that early Smashing Pumpkins turned out. Taking into consideration their sonic love for the Pumpkins, it isn’t far-fetched to call Neck of the Woods their Siamese Dream.
This isn’t to say, however, that this will turn off ALL fans of Swoon and Carnavas – this album might prove divisive to some (as ballsy albums usually do), since it’s much more of a “let’s try something new” affair, but those that “get it” will love it.
Make Believe sounds a bit Swoon-ish, although it takes a while to get going since it’s another lengthy song.
In terms of a “radio hit”, look for Mean Spirits to end up dominating the airwaves soon. It has that Silversun single sound – fuzzy, electronic-tinged guitars and Brian Aubert’s unmistakable vocal delivery. And it’s damn catchy, too.
Simmer is another key point on the album, an extended exploration into the emotive aspects of their sound as a unit. I can imagine a pretty sweet light show going along with this song live, another tune that dabbles in electronica with its synth blasts and urgent tones. The same can be said for The Pit, which starts out sounding like a song on the Drive soundtrack.
It would be great to see Silversun give Neck of the Woods the full album treatment live, as this is a solid “album experience” more than it is a collection of individual songs. Further, it might actually be a better experience to listen to it all the way through rather than track-by-track, which is a rare thing to say in today’s iTunes-singles dominated music world.
Dots and Dashes (Enough Already) even reminds me a bit of Kasabian, those delightful U.K. electro-rockers who are a personal favorite of mine. It’s weird to say Silversun sounds like Kasabian, but the song’s groove-laden rhythm and melody remind me of something Sergio & the gang would come up with.
If you haven’t gotten the hint yet, Neck of the Woods is a “different” type of album from Silversun Pickups. With this album, they really spread their wings, so to speak, and it results in one of the most solid albums of the year so far.
Personally, I can’t wait to hear where they go from here, because this is one damn good record.
How were The Black Keys supposed to follow up an album as great as 2010’s Brothers?
By making an even better one, that’s how.
El Camino, the seventh proper studio album by guitarist/vocalist Dan Auerbach and bifocaled drummer Patrick Carney, is luckily not Brothers Part Two.
Instead, it’s a more eclectic album of foot-stomping rhythms and the duo’s customary infectious melodies. Whereas Brothers tended to incorporate more of a blues style with songs like She’s Long Gone, Sinister Kid and The Go Getter, El Camino weaves in a bit of soul, even implementing more keyboards and bass, two elements that really ramp up the duo’s usual simplistic approach. They may be white dudes from Ohio, but they know how to get down.
Lonely Boy, the ridiculously great album opener that you’ve probably heard tens of times by now, kicks things off with one of the most danceable beats they’ve ever unleashed on the world. The music video for the song is suitably perfect, as well:
The beginning, or appetizer portion of the album, is just deadly: Dead and Gone is driven by its bass line and Carney’s relentless drums, while Gold on the Ceiling, with its handclaps, keys, and Auerbach’s old-timey vocals, should easily be the Tighten Up of this record. They played it on Saturday Night Live this past weekend, so it’s probably destined to be an FM radio staple soon, and rightly so.
It’s followed by Little Black Submarines, a tune that starts out with an acoustic, Stairway-esque passage that leads into the inevitable crush of electric guitar and drums. Still, the way the song nods to some older classic rock numbers gives it a timeless feel that ranks among the most expertly-crafted songs these guys have ever released.
Money Maker, Run Right Back and Sister join forces to be a delicious middle portion of this three-course meal of grit and groove, with Run Right Back specifically one of the record’s highest points – from the main riff to Auerbach’s top-notch croon, it’s aces. The same can be said for Sister, a song that relies on the keyboard as much as it does some smartly layered vocals.
Hell of a Season, the first of the album’s four-song sundae of show-stopping fun continues the energy, while Stop Stop takes things even further into the promised land: it deserves to be in some 1960s-themed car chase scene between a team of sassy female bank robbers and some old curmudgeon-y police detectives. Tarantino, are you listening?
Nova Baby and Mind Eraser close out the bodacious slab of excellence that is El Camino, the former boasting a relentlessly catchy vocal hook and the album-closer ending things on a typically bluesy, percussion-heavy exclamation point. It would make a great set closer for the duo’s upcoming arena tour.
With this record, the Black Keys have definitely made a statement; they’ve always been a prolific band, but with El Camino they’re showing that they definitely deserved all the attention that was thrown at Brothers. That album gave them the chance to finally make the jump from “indie favorites” to “headlining Madison Square Garden” status, but judging by the sounds on this record, they didn’t let that newfound attention take with it their ability to make some damn fine music.
Congrats, dudes, you’ve managed to out-do yourselves, which I didn’t think was possible.
Noel Gallagher, the songwriting half of the ever-quarreling Gallagher brothers, released his first proper solo album, Noel Gallagher’s High-Flying Birds, today. Well, it came out in the UK last month, but the US had to wait until today for its proper release.
Perhaps predictably, the album is bursting with Britpop flavor delivered with the precision and skill one might expect from a songwriter like Noel, who wrote some of the 1990s’ biggest and most memorable Britpop songs. While it’s true this album might lack a definitive Wonderwall, Champagne Supernova, or Live Forever, that doesn’t take away from its impact one bit.
Opener Everybody’s On the Run begins with a chorus of voices and an orchestral flourish, allowing Gallagher and his team of assembled musicians to drive home the point that this is an album meant to be taken rather seriously. Noel’s sweeping chorus of Hang in there love/ You’ve gotta hold on/Hang in there love/You’ve gotta hold on elevates the song’s overall feel to one of urgency and serves as a gorgeous introduction to Noel’s long-awaited and much-anticipated foray into the “solo artist” world.
Oasis broke up in 2009, Liam’s band Beady Eye quickly put out a debut album (ostensibly just to beat Noel to the punch), but Noel took his time, and it shows.
Dream On is driven by the type of beat that calls to mind Oasis songs like The Importance of Being Idle, among others. Dream On has a rich, engaging melody, the kind that Noel seems to be able to churn out with ease.
If I Had a Gun…, though, is arguably the finest song on this album, and one of the best Noel’s ever composed. If I had a gun/I’d shoot a hole into the sun/And love would burn this city down for you, Noel sings over some gentle guitar chords, before the song takes on “anthem” status. A simple vocal hook drives the song’s standout melody, as well as the chord progression. It’s not a world-changing song structurally, but it does the “Noel Gallagher emotional song” thing exceedingly well. Its cathartic feel and lyrical themes (it’s about love, simple as that) have the power to transport you back to the mid-1990s, when songs like this received the attention they deserved. This is the sort of number that Noel detractors/people who think his creative peak passed after (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? should hear.
Check out the video below.
The Death of You and Me also uses the same rhythmic feel as The Importance of Being Idle, but as the album’s first single it boasts one of the strongest choruses, as well.
(I Wanna Live In A Dream In My) Record Machine is a tune Noel had been working on for years. Originally an Oasis b-side, the song is now much louder and dynamic than the tender acoustic song it once was. It was a good decision to re-vamp Record Machine for this album.
AKA…What A Life! brings with it a sense of urgency, mostly due to the propulsive piano plucks that combine with the percussion to give the song a grabbing, immediate feel. Noel again does the “sweeping vocal hook” thing here, and it pays off as well as it did with If I Had A Gun. Check out the 8-minute video below, and look for the offbeat cameo by Russell Brand.
AKA…Broken Arrow’s verse strips away the bells and whistles of elaborate instrumentation and choir-like vocals, allowing Noel and his guitar to take center stage. It’s a welcomed switch-up, and when the musical accompaniment returns for the memorable chorus the song is elevated to “album highlight” status. You might think you’ve heard this song before; the chorus is very Oasis-like, melody-wise, but it has the flourishes and accentuations that make up the definitive High-Flying Birds sound.
(Stranded On) The Wrong Beach, a bouncy, swaying jam finds Noel singing Oh, me oh my/I say so long, and baby bye-bye. The song has an almost country twang to it, and Noel tweaks his vocal delivery accordingly. It becomes a bit redundant to say “it has one of the album’s best melodies”, but it really does. He knows a thing or two about writing a catchy tune.
The album concludes with Stop the Clocks, another song Noel has been working on for years. Its pairing of pianos, a slow pace and Noel’s vocals calls to mind Let There Be Love (off Oasis’s 2005 album Don’t Believe the Truth). It’s a perfect album-capper: a dreamlike, atmospheric song that could be the soundtrack to a flight through the clouds, its melodies ascending and expanding with the aid of ethereal vocal choruses before coming back down to Earth for a jangly, horn-filled Britpop coda that serves as an exclamation point to the song’s sonic ups and downs.
(Note: This album has a handful of bonus tracks floating around on its various editions that can expand the track list, but the “standard” edition of the album ends with Stop the Clocks.)
Simply put, Noel Gallagher’s High-Flying Birds is probably the best thing he could have released as a first solo record. Oasis only disbanded two years ago, but Noel’s had some of these songs in the works for quite awhile. He has stated plans to release another album sometime next year, indicating that he still has a lot left in the tank, songwriting-wise.
As a lifelong Oasis fan, this is the album I was anticipating after he and Liam had their big fight in 2009. While they’ve hinted at burying the hatchet AGAIN and re-forming in 2015 for the 20th anniversary of Morning Glory (which would be great), this album shows that Noel is more than capable of continuing his musical legacy well past his original band’s expiration date.
Noel might be a polarizing figure, due to his outspoken personality and penchant for saying colorful things, but you can’t deny his songwriting prowess. It shines throughout this album, which can hold its own pretty well against most Oasis records.
Enjoy the video for The Death of You and Me below.
Coldplay released their fifth full-length album, the difficultly-titled Mylo Xyloto, this week.
To prepare for writing this review, the album was my soundtrack on a light night stroll around the neighborhood, which suited it well. It’s a sprawling, bombastic concept album about two lovers, Mylo and Xyloto, who live in a miserable, suffocating dystopia sometime in the future. Their troubled tale is told in mostly typical Coldplay-ian fashion, that is: loud piano shimmers, fluttery guitars and stadium-ready soaring anthemic choruses.
Despite the countless bleeps and bloops and electronic touches that pepper the album, the songs do sometimes manage to hearken back to the type of sound that the band used on their breakout debut album Parachutes. Don’t go interpreting this, though, as meaning the album is mostly just piano, guitars and vocals, or else you’ll end up disappointed.
Hurts Like Heaven is the first proper song here, and Chris Martin‘s unmistakable voice is here aided by some Auto-Tunage, for better or worse. Its dance-y rhythm and flittery guitars give it an ethereal quality, and helps it serve as a fitting intro to the rest of the album due to its unlikely (at least by Coldplay standards) upbeat feel.
Paraadise comes next, and you’ll either hate it or love it, considering on your opinion of the band. If you’re a non-fan, you’ll hate it. It’s just as memorable as Clocks, Vida,Yellow, Viva laVida or Talk. It starts out noisy, slows down for Martin to tell the story of the girl dreaming about paradise, and then picks up with its oh-so-infectious chorus.
Charlie Brown could end up being their next smash hit as well. This one has a bit more of a “traditional Coldplay” feel to it, especially the main guitar riff (shimmery, of course) and melody.
Us Against the World is the song most likely to appeal to fans of Coldplay’s more subdued approach (the kind visited on Parachutes and most of A Rush of Blood to the Head). There aren’t a lot of empty aesthetics on this one, it’s mostly just guitar strumming and Martin’s hushed vocals, making it a nice break from the noisiness of the first few tracks.
We have jackets.
The album’s first single, Every Teardrop Is a Waterfall, wasn’t my favorite when I heard it, but it fits within the context of the album much better than it does as a standalone song. The contrast between the previous, more somber, track and the synthesizer-heavy Every Teardrop creates a powerful transition, another nod to the album’s solid sequencing.
Major Minus is another highlight, again ramping up the tempo a bit and having a bouncy, percussive rhythm base as well as a strong vocal hook by Martin.
When Rihanna shows up, though, the results aren’t as A-list as you’d hope. Princess of China, which is dominated by her nasal delivery and presence, falls a bit flat under its own aesthetic posturing. Laser beeps bounce around the almost hip-hop beat, which of course sounds weird on a Coldplay album. Then again, this is a band whose lead singer stomped around onstage with Jay-Z last year, so it does make sense for a collaboration like this to exist. It’s just not as grabbing as it should have been. It’ll probably be a big hit, regardless.
After the aptly titled interlude A Hopeful Transmission, Mylo Xyloto concludes with Don’t Let It Break Your Heart and Up With the Birds, two songs that end things on an uplifting note. Don’t Let It‘s relentless, pounding beat drives home more ethereal atmospherics, while Up with the Birds caps things with another visit to the band’s early career (that is, mostly just Martin and a piano), until picking up for a rousing finish.
With Mylo Xyloto, Coldplay made an album that will probably appeal to people who have appreciated their various stylistic endeavors over the years. If you already hated Coldplay and hopped on the wagon of making fun of them, this probably won’t change your mind. It has as many sure-to-be-overplayed songs as any other album they’ve made, and will probably only make them even more popular in the public eye.
But if you generally dig their style, you’ll find something to enjoy. Whether you stopped listening after they started becoming the next U2 or have stuck with them throughout, there’s something for you on this album if you give it a chance.
In a music landscape marred by redundancy and bands that live well beyond their shelf life, it’s refreshing to hear Thrice sound as vibrant as ever, more than a decade after they formed. Their newest album, Major/Minor, just might be their crowning achievement thus far.
The Irvine-based band released the follow-up to 2009’s stellar Beggars this week, and it’s a near-perfect encapsulation of the genre-shifting they’ve done since emerging among the “post-hardcore”crowd in the late ‘90s.
No, there’s no Deadbolt or All That’s Left on Major/Minor, but anyone who has followed the band throughout the years knows they’re an entirely different band now.
Replacing the angst and aggro-metal riffs from Identity Crisis and The Illusion of Safety with introspection and a subdued intensity that has come to be their calling card, Thrice should be the envy of many bands: they fully have their own identifiable sound.
Yellow Belly kicks things off with what could be the “heaviest” song on the record; its rough, distorted riff and Dustin Kensrue’s throaty vocal delivery is a telling introduction to the album. By the time Riley Breckenridge’s drums come in, the song explodes into a fury of organized chaos. Kensrue is a master at shout-singing without coming across as abrasive, as he seemingly runs his vocal chords raw with the amount of passion he puts into every syllable.
Promises starts with a steadily increasing rhythm and Teppei Teranishi’s workmanlike riffage, before again exploding into a gorgeous blend of melody and energy. Much like how The Weight explored the concept of marriage and commitment, Promises touches on those themes as well, with Kensrue offering thought-provoking lines like We promise pretty things/ And we pledge with diamond rings; We profess undying love/ But does that word hold any weight?/ We reserve the right to break/Any vow that draws our blood. It’s one of the album’s strongest tracks, although to simplify Major/Minor in such a way would take away from its impact.
Songs like Blinded and Cataracts are the natural progression from the sort of experimentation carried out on Vheissu and Beggars, but with a more…relaxing feel to them. That’s not to say they’re “mellow”; rather, the groove-oriented feel and squealing, post-grunge guitars displayed on Cataracts come across more like Thrice exploring new avenues rather than re-visiting past territory.
That’s really the best quality of Major/Minor: As a band, Thrice have their own unique, identifiable sound now. While most bands struggle for “that sound” that truly sets them apart from their peers, Thrice have achieved it, and it comes across on each song on this album. Kensrue’s masterful vocal performances, Teranishi’s top-notch guitar work, Eddie Breckenridge’s driving bass or Riley Breckenridge’s steady drums have never sounded better, and that’s not a critique of anything they’ve done in the past. They’re just at the top of their game now.
The gorgeous, sprawling Call It in the Air might be one of the best songs Thrice have ever made. In it, the uncertainty of life and its unpredictability are matched with the ideal sonic atmosphere for such themes. A coin tossed into the air will come down/ it will come down somewhere/ Your life is a coin in the air/ it will come down somewhere, Kensrue sings in a hushed tone. His words accentuate the slow, building instrumentation, taking on a sense of urgency and earnestness before leading to a monumentally powerful chorus aided by dark, ominous guitar chords. Life IS as simple as a coin toss, for better or worse, and Thrice couldn’t possibly have expressed that sentiment any more poetically than with Call it in the Air.
Doing the "Promo Photo" thing...
Treading Paper continues the melancholic atmosphere created by the previous track, providing even more rich melodies (both in the guitars and vocals) matched with Kensrue’s strained words about restlessness and, again, uncertainty: Because I contend that all of this is more than just a meaningless charade/ That each and every moment is a bottle with a message hid away he says, and the delivery is just amazing.
Blur provides a burst of energy and aggression that counteracts the more tranquil stylings of the previous two songs, before Words in the Water and Listen Through Me bring back the reflective tones. He laid aside his crown/ All our crimes he carried/Was lifted from the ground/With our burdens buried, Kensrue sings on Listen Through Me, a not-so-subtle reference to Jesus. Not many bands would dare throw a song that is implicitly pro-religion on an album, but Thrice do just that with this one. Kensrue has even noted that he had to be careful, considering even his own band mates aren’t the most devout individuals themselves; his own spirituality inspired the song, yet it refrains from coming across as heavy-handed. Well done.
The album closes with Anthology, another candidate for “best thing Thrice has ever done” and Disarmed. The emotive earnestness of Anthology, with its building, swelling guitars and positively uplifting vocals, would have made a fantastic album-capper, but Disarmed brings things to an end with an affecting, cathartic feel. The guitars and backing vocals swirl around at the end, acting as a sensory exclamation point to an emotional album. Musically, this is a life-affirming record, despite its dark lyrical themes, and Disarmed ends it all in a fitting manner.
Major/Minor is simply a near-perfect record. VERY few bands continue to progress and expand with each album without a few misfires here and there; Thrice just don’t adhere to that formula. Each album is more impressive and more challenging than the last. Major/Minor is the definition of a “grower” album, too: it may not be as immediate as Vheissu or Beggars, but if you put in the time, it just might end up being your favorite Thrice record of them all.
They’re a special band, and Major/Minor is a special accomplishment.
Bird by Bird, the Berkeley duo comprised of guitarist Jonathan Devoto and drummer Ross Traver, released their first proper full-length record, While You Sleep, recently.
The band’s first release since 2010′s Albatross EP, While You Sleep finds Bird by Bird growing into its own, crafting pleasant rock-pop songs with an earnestness that is reminiscent of Devoto’s work with defunct Oakland band The Matches. The music on While You Sleep sounds much more like a full band effort than the work of two people, a testament to the album’s great production.
Album opener Simple Days, with its steady drum beat coupled with a choppy guitar rhythm, is almost U2-ish stylistically, giving it a warm, inviting overall feel. Devoto’s lyrics about trading grade school lunches and how the “simple days” of the past are now gone touch on issues with which we can all relate, especially those of us in our mid-twenties. The musicianship on this song is top-notch, really demonstrating the band’s best attributes perfectly.
Relationships and breakups are the common themes on the album, most evident with She Calls and Break, tender recollections of the kind of emotion that goes along with the highs and lows of love. On Break, the music swells and builds along with Devoto’s voice beautifully, a melancholy guitar riff leading the way.
Delirious, which was included on Albatross, comes up again here in re-recorded form, which is great considering it’s one of Bird by Bird’s more memorable songs, both in catchiness and the strength of Devoto’s guitar playing.
Don’t Wake Me picks up the pace a bit with a bouncy, drum-led rhythm and “lat-dah-dah-dahs” filling up the background of the song. Throughout the tune, chunky electric guitar riffs play off of the acoustic lead-in, creating a whirlwind of guitar harmony that is quite welcomed.
Let Go demonstrates the duo’s ability to switch gears, blending energetic riffs and slower, passionate vocals with lines like You say we’re a social animal/More like socially awkward. Originally an acoustic track from Albatross, Let Go sounds great fleshed out in electric form.
The rest of the album continues the blend of harmonic guitar work and emotional songs about life and love, culminating in album-capper Family Tree, which is Bruce Springsteen-ian in its tone, lyrics, and riffs…for the first two minutes, anyway. After that point, the song becomes a feverish jam between the guitars and drums, the rhythm rising and falling rapidly and taking on an improvisational feel. The tune (and album) conclude with a cacophony of sounds, whispered voices, computer beeps and feedback, the audio equivalent of smashing instruments onstage at the end of a show.
While You Sleep is a solid record of guitar-driven rock-pop. Bird by Bird have had many different lineups and personnel over the past couple of years, but Devoto and Traver seem to have settled on their best version yet. Only having two band members is one of the album’s strongest aspects, as the songs have an understated simplicity that works consistently well.
In the end, While You Sleep should put Bird by Bird on the map. It’s a solid collection of songs by a band that has really progressed in the few years since its inception.
You can check it out for yourself over at the band’s Bandcamp page.
The Red Hot Chili Peppers have finally released the artwork for their upcoming John Frusciante-less album I’m With You, which is slated for release on August 30th.
As the good people at Antiquiet were quick to notice, the band posted the cover in a newsletter update on their official website, simply saying “Check out our new album cover – officially revealed! Damien Hirst did it for us and we’re happy to get this out to ya!”
It will be interesting to hear the sounds made by the band with new guitarist Josh Klinghoffer, having replaced the recently departed (again) guitarist John Frusciante. Hopefully we’ll get some musical samples from the new record soon…
Flash backwards to the year 2004. Limp Bizkit had just released Results May Vary, a mishmash of past-its-prime nu-metal angst and attempts at sophisticated “grown-up” rock music that lacked the mass appeal of the band’s previous hit records, Significant Other and Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water. Guitarist and costume-wearer Wes Borland had jumped ship in 2001, taking with him the band’s most likable (or least hate-able) quality: the riffs. If someone had told you then that “Limp Bizkit’s going to release a new album 7 years from now with their original lineup!” you’d probably have laughed in their face. It would be hard to imagine 40-year old Fred Durst hopping around shouting out expletives and bragging about being famous.
And yet, here we sit in 2011, seemingly decades from the heyday of the nu-metal movement, and Limp Bizkit have just released that album, Gold Cobra. There’s little point in critiquing an LB record in terms of “artistry” or “substance”, as they’ve always been the musical equivalent of cotton candy: it tastes good when you’re young but rots your teeth and makes you sick as you get older. As another comparison, consider Limp Bizkit the auditory version of a Michael Bay film: flashy, colorful, filled with explosions and some fun moments, but lacking intellectual capacity or depth.
No one asked Limp Bizkit to re-form and record a new record; all the fans from the late-1990s early 2000s are now in their mid to late twenties, hardly the angry-at-the-world high school drifters they were back then. Even Bizkit’s one-time contemporaries in the genre have either changed styles completely (Linkin Park) or stayed true to themselves and remained a major figure in rock music, despite their genre’s lack of popularity (Deftones). Others, like Korn, have failed to maintain a huge mainstream audience, having turned to dubstep in an effort to become relevant again. Listening to Gold Cobra, it’s apparent that Freddy D. and the gang just don’t care about being accepted. On five different songs on the album, he says exactly that: I don’t give a damn (Bring it Back), I don’t give a fuck what none of y’all people think (Gold Cobra), I don’t give a shit what those motherfuckers think (Get a Life), Should I remind you motherfuckers I don’t give a fuck? (Shotgun) and It’s going out to the people who don’t give a fuck (90.2.10). Perhaps Gold Cobra‘s artwork should have been this.
It’s a shame that Fred is such a force on this record, because Borland, John Otto, Sam Rivers and DJ Lethal have never sounded better. Remember how high in the mix Fred’s voice was on Chocolate Starfish? That’s again the case here, as most of the songs begin with loud guitars and violent rhythms, before quieting down and letting his shrill voice clog up all the air. After the nightmare-ish Introbra (ugh), Bring it Back kicks off the album with an oddly-timed blend of club beats and spitfire riffage. Fred rambles about parties and “danger zones” until a jarring Borland riff combines with Otto’s thunderous drums, giving the song a sick groove that unfortunately ends too soon.
One of these is not like the others...
Gold Cobra is the album’s lead single, complete with ridiculous music video (as shown below). Again featuring the mash up of Borland’s wailing guitar and Otto’s slick percussion, the song features more inane lyrics (Holding the gold, it’s so gold, it’s so golden y’all) and a verse structure that sounds like Avril Lavigne’s Girlfriend, a dubious comparison. In Shark Attack, Fred references Break Stuff, this time saying it’s Another one of those days/feelin’ like a shovel. An affront to the Bizkit detractors out there, Fred brags about still shockin’ like a heart attack, obviously proud of himself. Borland provides some of his best guitar work on the album on this cut, atmospheric squeals lighting up the background of the song. Fred’s terrible vocal bridge is saved by Rivers’ bass line, which nods to the Jaws films. Get it? Shark Attack and Jaws? Pure genius.
Despite its silly Cypress Hill-styled verse, Get a Life features the album’s most abrasive chorus, with Fred screaming like he hasn’t since Three Dollar Bill Y’all. Eerie guitars and pounding drums lead into the aggressive chorus, giving the song an appealing “old-school” vibe, as long as you don’t pay attention to Fred’s ego-stroking and confrontational nonsense.
Shotgun sounds like both P.O.D. and Saliva, so it’s best to stop talking about it right there. Douche Bag, with Fred copping a raspy, snarling tone, is made for the haters: transparent braggadocio aided by more ear-pleasing (if not technically advanced) guitar work by Borland. There’s an urgency in the music that leads into the chorus of Douche bag!/I’ma fuck you up/fuck you/ fuck you/ fuck you up! It’s a perfect song for blasting in your car as you chug energy drinks on the way to an MMA fight. The jazzy outro with Fred laughing like a power-crazed maniac is odd, and just may be his way of admitting that he’s been trolling us all these years.
As with most Limp Bizkit albums, the slower, “deeper” songs are the easiest to appreciate. Walking Away is atmospheric and finds Fred actually singing. Think Re-Arranged mixed with It’ll Be Ok and you’ll have an idea how this one sounds. Loser borrows My Way’s echoing guitar intro, but has its own nice melody and almost somewhat decent lyrics. The song shows that LB is capable of creating “good” music with some semblance of meaning and creativity every now and then. Borland adds a great guitar solo in the bridge as well.
Autotunage would have fit on Lil’ Wayne’s abysmalRebirth album. A party anthem, the song is driven by some of Otto’s best percussion and drum work on the disc, which partly makes up for the song’s lyrical vapidity. Auto-Tune Fred is amusing for about a minute, but it soon wears thin, which might have been the point of the song in the first place. Who knows?
90.2.10, a song that begins with Slayer-like instrumental fury, quickly unravels into a typical Durst rap about girls and parties and Hollywood. Killer in You closes out the album with hip-hop beats, sludgy guitars and Fred warning someone about a home intruder. An odd choice for album-closer, maybe, but it does finish off the album on a high note, musically.
With Gold Cobra, Limp Bizkit have proven that they really don’t care about being hated; releasing an album like this in 2011 definitely takes some courage. There’s practically no audience for boisterous rap-metal like this in today’s musical climate. Here we are, however, with a brand new Limp Bizkit record to discuss. Perhaps it’s the shock value of a band like LB releasing an album like this that has garnered Gold Cobra more than a few mixed (or at least not-totally-hateful) reviews. The band consciously chose to return to the formula that put them on the map nearly fifteen years ago. Gold Cobra features the band’s best musical (but not lyrical) output since Three Dollar Bill Y’all, if you can tolerate Fred’s macho-dude posturing. Yes, it’s empty thematically; it provides nothing in terms of sophistication or introspection. If you want that, go listen to the new Bon Iver album. Gold Cobra is silly, frivolous summer blockbuster music, just as it was intended to be.
LB’s never been about substance, nor have they claimed to be “serious”. It’s easy and understandable to hate them for that, considering all the earnest, creatively worthwhile bands that struggle to make it in this business. In the end, though, despising Limp Bizkit just isn’t worth the time it takes to get worked up. If you don’t want to listen to it, don’t. They don’t take themselves seriously, so why should you? There are plenty of other better, substantive 2011 album releases to check out. If, however, you’re looking for some mindless, cotton-candy fun and can appreciate the solid musicianship behind Durst’s overbearing presence, give Gold Cobra a spin.
The Swellers’ new album Good For Me is a top-notch blend of older and newer pop-punk/alternative stylings, but with an added sense of nostalgic homage to the late 1990s that demonstrates that we’ve apparently reached the point where bands refer to that decade with a degree of melancholy and fond memories. Hey, fellow twentysomething music bloggers: we’re getting old.
Album opener Runaway kicks things off with an energetic guitar and drum burst, leading into an upbeat verse with vocalist Nick Diener saying I don’t feel like myself anymore/I need to get out of this room today. Swellers fans familiar with their previous two albums may have found this opening track jarring, as the band seems to have embraced a more straightforward and catchy sound than the rawer tunes on 2009’s breakout album Ups and Downsizing. Runaway is a great introduction to the record, which is full of memorable songs that cast a fond look back to the past.
Inside My Head finds the band channeling both Motion City Soundtrack and Jimmy Eat World. The MCS-like synth and JEW-esque chorus help the song stand out, as it manages to sound like both those bands without sounding like a knockoff. The Swellers are creating their own unique sound using the influence of bands like those two, and it pays off incredibly well. The one-two punch of Runaway and Inside My Head give the album a great opening sequence that leads into The Damage, which starts off a bit slower, allowing Diener’s scruffy voice to take over. The guitar work on this one requires discussion, as both Diener and Ryan Collins alternate between distorted riffage and softer, more melodic notes seamlessly. Some great backup vocals help the bridge shine (something that happens throughout the album).
Parkview keeps the energy going, with Diener expressing that sort of twentysomething layabout boredom that is all too familiar to many of us: It’s been four years/And I still don’t know what I’m doing here/My friends settled down/And all I do when I’m home is sleep in. The song has a peppy chorus with the narrator lamenting about shoveling snow, being paralyzed and not standing up for himself. Paired with the upbeat music which ultimately leads to some wonderfully melodic background vocals at the very end, the song is a great lead in to the album’s biggest highlight, The Best I Ever Had.
The Best I Ever Had gives me the same sense of nostalgia and melancholic vibe that The Ataris’In This Diary did back in 2003, but without that tune’s cheesiness. I remember April ’94/September ’96/And every day of ’99 (all of ’99)/Whether I waited for those records/Or helped Seattle cry/It was the best I ever had/And I know we’ll never die Diener cries, expressing a fond adoration of the songs that shaped his life all those years ago. He later sings about planning his escape from the suit-and-tie lifestyle that eventually plagued so many of his friends (and everyone else’s).
It’s something that people my age (read: mid-twenties) can instantly relate to, but it’s approached in a much more enjoyable, wistful fashion than most songs that play the “Oh, I miss being a kid!” card so heavy-handedly. The song is becoming a favorite among the AbsolutePunk crowd, and rightly so.
Better Things begins with some acoustic strumming and Diener talking about being on the way to bigger things, before the song explodes into an irresistible chorus, buoyed by a driving rhythm and chord progression. Lyrically, it’s a confident tune with a slight bitterness about the target of the song, with Diener saying I guess you wouldn’t know since you’re not here, but also wishing her (or him) well. Musically, it’s one of Good For Me’s best songs, fully demonstrating how well the Swellers can do the rock/pop thing.
The grungy guitars of On the Line wouldn’t sound out of place on a Foo Fighters record. The buzzy chords give it a dark energy that carries throughout its 3 minutes and 41 seconds. Diener yells I try to scream but there’s no sound/’Cause you’re alone/And I want you to come around while choppy riffs blaze through the chorus. It’s one of the album’s better songs, due in part to the great guitars. Drummer Jonathan Diener and bassist Anto Boros bring a lot of energy to the track, helping to give it its great grunge flavor.
Nothing More and Prime Meridian are both solid tracks, but they’re sandwiched between two of the album’s strongest moments. The aforementioned On the Line and the album-capper Warming Up are some of the Swellers’ greatest accomplishments on Good For Me. With its Pinkerton-like synth and Diener’s vocal delivery, Warming Up sounds like 1996-era Weezer. It’s really a great song about wishing, dreaming, and how the narrator will never be me without you. Long after the song comes to an end, the keyboards and overall melody of the song will loop in your head, which is always the mark of a memorable album-closer.
With Good for Me, The Swellers have really made a statement. The album shows the band’s best qualities throughout its ten songs: energetic, pop-punk-alternative songs about nostalgia, longing, and youthful exuberance being reflected upon by people who are no longer teenagers. That the band explores these themes while sounding like some of the best bands of the era they’re singing about helps the album leave quite a mark on the listener. It’s been a great year so far for pop punk revivals, and The Swellers may have released the best of the bunch.
This week, The Strokes release their new album, Angles, their first since going on an “indefinite hiatus” after touring for 2006’s First Impressions of Earth. That’s a long time for a band that burst onto the scene in 2001 with a huge, “we’re bringing in an entirely new era of rock music” buzz around them.
The band has said some not-so-cheery things about the recording sessions for Angles, even going so far as to say that it was an “awful” experience. That might make someone expect it to sound as fractured as the recording process that created it, but for the most part that isn’t the case.
If the band’s hiatus was an attempt to take some time off and refresh their creative batteries, then it’s safe to say it was well-timed. First Impressions of Earth was decent, but at that point, as the band’s third album in 6 years, it was apparent that they were running out of ideas. The music on Angles is VERY different from the tried-and-true “Strokes sound”. The songs are not straightforward rock numbers with vocalist Julian Casablancas slurring his words over Nick Valensi and Albert Hammond, Jr.’s guitar riffery.
Instead, Angles is filled with much more abstractly arranged and structured songs, such as album opener Machu Picchu. Sounding like it was lifted from a Talking Heads album, it’s a great introduction to the odd vibes of this album. There’s no lack of groove on this one, accentuated with some echo-y guitar work and some sweet percussive touches. Casablancas snarls about putting your body to the test and trying to find a mountain I can climb before humming over the instruments toward the end. It seriously sounds like it could be a song made in 1986, and that statement is meant in the best way possible. After calmly singing most of the song, Julian yells a bit at the end until the whole thing comes to a raucous finish.
Under Cover of Darkness, the most Strokes-ian song on the record, finds Casablancas sounding younger than he did on Is This It way back ten years ago. It’s a bouncy, catchy song, primed for radio play, despite Julian’s claim that he won’t be a puppet on a string. Valensi’s guitar solo after the first chorus is pretty juicy, too.
Things start getting weird with Two Kinds of Happiness. Beginning with Julian’s low-register humming and building steadily with staccato guitars, the song is notable for its inability to really go anywhere yet still remain interesting. It builds and builds, bringing in some fast guitar noodling before going back to the downbeat vocal harmonies. It’s definitely an experimental song, and one that a lot of casual Strokes fans may find very confusing.
You’re So Right, written by bassist Nikolai Fraiture, ramps up the strangeness, with even more off-key vocal harmonies and Casablancas sounding as if he was making up his vocals on the spot. You’re So Right is not a crisp, tight song, but rather another attempt at being really unpredictable and experimental. Despite its bizarre elements, the song works thanks to the ominous tone and frantic drumming by Fabrizio Moretti.
Photo: We All Want Someone To Shout For
The chorus of Taken for a Fool is reminiscent of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, which is admittedly a strange comparison to make when discussing the Strokes. Julian says things like You’re so gullible but I don’t mind/I don’t need any more women right now/ Monday, Tuesday is my weekend right before another great instrumental break driven by Moretti and his drum kit. This is one of the album’s strongest tracks, with every band member at his best.
Games brings back the 1980s again, synth and gentle guitars giving way to a strong chorus featuring Casablancas’ layered vocals. Its downbeat, low-key flourishes are similar to those found in You’re So Right, but this song will probably be easier to get into than the previous one, in part due to the synth and a pretty smooth instrumental part in the middle.
Call Me Back is the album’s mellowest moment, and is a bit more straightforward than the adventurous, all-over-the-map sound of the other songs. Because of that, the song is not as grabbing as the others. But hey, every album needs a slow jam, right?
Things pick up again with Gratisfaction, a song that sounds oddly familiar and yet new at the same time. Maybe the sound is “vintage”, maybe it’s “throwback”, but whatever it is it’s a good time. On Metabolism, Julian laments that I want to be outrageous/But inside I know I’m lame, which could either be some scathing self-criticism or just words that fit the verse. Whatever their intent, the song is a standout in the same way You’re So Right and Games were. The downbeat instrumentation gives the song a quiet intensity that fits Julian’s vocals perfectly.
The album closes out with Life Is Simple In The Moonlight, a tune that finds Julian mostly singing softly and often along with the guitar melody. Rather than end the album with a bland softer song, Life Is Simple wraps things up on a catchy and memorable note.
Angles is a much more challenging Strokes record than the previous three. Their hiatus and the markedly different approach with this record suggest that they were bored with their old sound. On this new one, there are also shades of Julian’s solo album Phrazes for the Young, which was also very 80s-tinged and synthed-out much in the same way Angles is.
These songs aren’t as immediately accessible as Last Nite, Reptilia or Someday, but they’re a solid representation of where the band is now. The album is the end result of a tumultuous, high-pressure experience in the studio, and has given the band the same kind of intensity and hostility that they had back in their early days.
Despite their current internal conflicts, Angles is the Strokes saying that they’re back and making new rules this time, and it will be interesting to see where they go from here.
