Posts Tagged Album Review

Loud Cut

Loud CutI was surprised last week to find out that Swinging Popsicle has a new album out, called Loud Cut.  It appears to be not so much a proper album as a hodge-podge of random cuts:  video game themes, a cover or two, a few tracks off previous albums.  Perhaps as a result of this, it doesn’t hold together as well as it could, but there’s still some good stuff here.

Bassist Hironobu Hirata was in charge of the background music to the video game Sumaga, and a lot of the material here originates from that project.  Album openers “Perfect Loop” and “(a) SLOW STAR” were both theme songs to the game, and three other songs (“Meet U”, “UN-K.O. ~Our Day Will Come~”, and “Good Time”) are vocal versions of background music tracks from the game.  I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the other stuff here is also from Sumaga (I don’t have the game or its soundtracks);  certainly, the creepy instrumental “Tragedy In Your Brain” sounds like a video game background track.

Beyond the soundtrack stuff, there’s also an Auroranote cover (“Seijyaku to Ryuusei”), two tracks apiece from the last two Popsicle albums (Transit and Go On), and two of the bands’ early b-sides, apparently re-recorded (I’ve never heard the original versions, but Georide marks both セルフカバー, “self-cover”).  If you’re keeping track, that accounts for thirteen of the albums’ fourteen tracks — the fourteenth, “Kururi Sakura Hirari”, is listed as “Swinging Popsicle Ver.”, so maybe it’s a cover too?

There’s nothing wrong with odds-and-ends compilations, of course.  The four Transit and Go On tracks at the end of the album seem like bizarre padding, but if you disregard them, you still have a 10-song mini-album, and a not bad one at that.  Certainly, I’ve raved about “(a) SLOW STAR” before, and “Perfect Loop” is quite good too, continuing the band’s recent experiments adding subtle electronic elements to their music.  “UN-K.O.” is also quite good, a big guitar song that comes up a bit short in the chorus department, but still rocks.  Those are the main highlights, but the pleasant samba cut “Good Time”, the mid-tempo “Kururi Sakura Hirari”, and the Auroranote cover are all pretty good too.  The low points are the rather pointless “Tragedy In Your Brain” and the overly dramatic piano ballad “Let Me Fly”.

At any rate, this album hardly supplants Go On as my go-to Swinging Popsicle album (despite the inclusion of that album’s brilliant title track), but it’s not a bad record to have around, particularly for the first six tracks.  I’d say it’s not worth the import price for the physical CD, but for $10 off JapanFiles for the MP3, it’s well worth it.

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Asobi Seksu’s Hush

Hush on Amazon.comI wrote last month about my initial disappointment with Asobi Seksu’s new album Hush, and now that the album is actually coming out I thought I should update my thoughts on it.

Except that I haven’t really changed my opinion much.  Not so much a bad album as a disappointing one, Hush just isn’t as exciting or engaging as its predecessors.

At first I thought that I just missed those big, majestic guitars, since the band chose to go with a spare, fragile sound this time out — reminiscent of classic 4AD recordings — instead of their previous shoegazer guitar roar.  And that may be part of it, because as anyone who reads this blog knows, I really like big majestic guitars.  But the album’s real problem is that it’s a pretty dull listen, with one delicate, mid-tempo song after another blurring together into a rather dour monotony.

It’s not that the band is bad at dream pop.  Songs like “Layers”, “Gliss”, and “Mehnomae” are quite beautiful.  But the band has eschewed much of their earlier diversity here — nothing as punky as “Mizu Asobi” or “Asobi Masho”, nothing as flat-out poppy as “I’m Happy But You Don’t Like Me” or “Taiyo” — mostly sticking to frigid, slow numbers.  And this is where the production really hurts them, because there’s a surprising lack of dynamics to much of the material, as if a crush of huge guitars on the chorus was the only tool the band had in their arsenal to add emotional punch to their songs, and having decided to not do that this time around, the songs are left feeling empty and cold.  The drums and guitars are extremely low in the mix for the most part, which does accentuate Yuki Chikudate’s wonderful, ethereal singing, but also leaves the songs badly in need of an injection of tension, drama, and release.

The album’s two best songs come at the end:  “Glacially”, the ninth track, is built on top of a pulsing, melodic bassline (reminiscent of New Order) that adds some welcome urgency to the song, and has a tremolo-laden chorus that adds some of the excitement that’s so lacking elsewhere on the album.  And closer “Blind Little Rain” is the album’s absolute highlight, a wonderful melding of girl-group elements (which the band flirted with on their b-side cover of “Then He Kissed Me” a couple years ago) with dream pop.  The song is gorgeous and heart-breaking, and exudes a warmth that most of the rest of the album lacks.  If only everything on Hush was this good.

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Swinging of Eden by Swinging Popsicle

I mentioned a few days ago that, of all the CD’s I bought on my Tokyo record shopping trip, the one that I was most excited about was Swinging Of Eden [TOKYO STYLE], by Swinging Popsicle.  There’s no mystery to that – in the year since I first discovered them, the Japanese indie pop trio have become one of my favorite bands.

One of the things I like about them is that I never know quite what I’m going to get with one of their releases — they’ve recorded everything from spiky guitar pop to retro-60’s soul to dance pop.  Whatever they try, they seem to always do it well.

Running at about 35 minutes with nine tracks, Swinging Of Eden turns out to be a collection of lush, pastoral pop songs.  What it really reminds me of, weirdly, is my other favorite (currently recording) band, Saint Etienne — specifically the chilly electronic soundscapes of Sound Of Water, though the bouncy retro-60’s pop of “Appleholic” would have fit perfectly on Good Humour. This isn’t a bad thing — the songs are all wonderful, catchy, low-key pop music, with dense, detailed production.

Highlights include singer Fujishima Mineoko’s cooing vocals on “Kitty’s Affair”, the aforementioned mod pop of “Appleholic”, and the mournful “Eve’s Love”.  “Room Service” is built on a gently swinging electronic percussion rhythm, and features vocals by guitarist Shimada Osamu, singing a call-and-response duet with Fujishima.  Four minutes in, the song unexpectedly descends into a pop-psychedelic sound collage, giving it a very Beatlesque feel (the band would do something similar five years later with the title track of their 2007 album Go On).  Less successful is a cover of the Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows”, largely stripped down to an acoustic guitar and voice, with little attempt to recreate the lush vocal arrangements of the original.  It’s grown on me a fair bit since my first listen, but it still falls far short of the amazing original.

The album is well sequenced, bookended by vaguely ambient instrumentals and featuring another instrumental, “Kona Coast” (which follows “God Only Knows” and hints at surf music itself), as its centerpiece.  The songs flow easily between one another, and despite the mini-album’s relative brevity, it feels very well-rounded and complete.  Well worth my ¥2100.

(Well, one review down, on my ten to go …)

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Coldplay’s Viva La Vida

Viva La Vida

Viva La Vida

Alright, I’ll admit it:  I like Coldplay’s Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends.  I was seriously underwhelmed by their debut, to the point that I didn’t bother to listen to them again until all the positive hype about their new album.  But enough people who seemed to hold the band in contempt gave this one good reviews that I thought it’d be worth checking out.  And it was.

Honestly, I’m not sure what the deal is – has the band’s songwriting really improved this much?  Or is Brian Eno’s production completely responsible for the change in sound, towards something much more intriguing and deep?  A little of both, I’d guess.

Certainly Chris Martin’s singing is much better and more nuanced here (his voice drove me nuts on Parachutes).  The songs are more varied and textured than previously, and the band breaks from the usual verse-chorus-verse structure on quite a few of the songs, giving the album a feel of unpredictability – which ultimately makes even the straightforward arena anthems, when they appear, sound much more distinct and interesting by contrast.  But, that said, the anthems are here, and ultimately the album doesn’t stray all that far from where Coldplay’s been before.  But they sound so much more ambitious and interesting now, it’s a little difficult to believe that this is the same band.

There are quite a few highlights – the anthemic “Lovers In Japan”, the pulsing post-punk rush of “Chinese Sleep Chant”, the stirring “Viva La Vida”, and the Peter Gabriel–esque “Strawberry Swing” all come to mind – but it’s a sign of the album’s quality (and excellent sequencing) that even the songs that, by themselves, would sound dull or uninteresting, work well in the ebb and flow of the tracklist.  The album culminates with “Death And All His Friends”, which starts off as a piano ballad but transforms midway into a soaring anthem, complete with an urgent chant-along chorus at the end.  It’s a fantastic conclusion, and perfectly encapsulates the album’s ambitions.

(So it seemed that maybe I’d been underestimating Coldplay all these years, and I went out and picked up a copy of A Rush Of Blood To The Head.  Guess what?  It sucked.)

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Archers Of Loaf vs. The Greatest Of All Time

Archers Of Loaf vs. the Greatest of All Time

Archers Of Loaf vs. the Greatest of All Time

More mid-90’s indie rock nostalgia ….

For most people, the band that personifies early- to mid-90’s indie rock seems to be Pavement.  But to me, it’s the Archers Of Loaf.  Their music was gloriously noisy, laden with white noise and a sometimes almost hardcore level of aggression, but somehow they managed to still be catchy as hell and fun to listen to.  Like Pavement they gave off a distinct slacker vibe (with their sloppy arrangements and Eric Bachmann’s clever and often arch lyrics), but somehow they gave it off while they were thrashing away like crazy.

My first intro to Archers Of Loaf was the fantastic track “What Did You Expect?” off the Rows Of Teeth compilation, which I absolutely loved, so after reading a favorable review of their EP Vs The Greatest Of All Time in Alternative Press (I think) a few months later, I ran out and picked up the 10″ vinyl version.  Translucent lime green vinyl, as I recall.

Coming out in 1994 between Icky Mettle and Vee Vee, the band’s first and second albums, the EP showed them transitioning towards the denser, noisier sound of the second.  The songs are full of static and shards of dissonant noise, with goofy, pointless jams interspersed between the tracks.  But the songs themselves are fantastic, without a weak song in the batch.  “Audiowhore”, “Lowest Part Is Free!”, and “Revenge” are all pounding rockers, while “All Hail The Black Market” is a slow shout-along, and “Freezing Point” – the EP’s centerpiece and best track – is a stately anthem that wrings far too much pathos and drama out of what is likely another set of lyrics about indie rock (at least, that seems to be what most Archers songs were about at this point).

Anyway, I listened to the EP endlessly and then ran out and picked up the equally excellent Vee Vee when it came out, picking up their first album on the same day.  I’m probably thinking about them now because we’re having our usual belated hot September weather in San Francisco, and it’s reminding me of driving around Los Angeles in my beat up old car in ‘95 cranking those two albums, which I’d copied onto opposite sides of a cassette (that’s what we did back then, kids).  That was actually a miserable time in my life, but listening to The Greatest Of All Time, I still feel nostalgic for it.  Go figure.

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Forth by the Verve

Forth

Forth

When I heard last year that the Verve was regrouping, eight years after breaking up, I honestly didn’t feel any interest, in spite of the fact that their last album, 1997’s Urban Hymns, is one of my all-time favorite records.  I suppose it could be because singer Richard Ashcroft’s solo career has been inconsistent and rather disappointing, or that I’ve never really liked any of the Verve’s other albums (I know, I suck), or maybe just a sign of my cynicism about reunion tours in general.

But when I heard “Love Is Noise”, the first single off their new album Forth, I got excited:  pulsing, brooding, and majestic, it seemed to perfectly encapsulate everything that was great about the band in 1997.  So I picked up the album a few days after it came out, and have been listening to it since, trying to make up my mind about it – a difficult task, because while the album has some absolutely fantastic songs on it, it’s also quite flawed.

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23 by Blonde Redhead

23

23

Okay, this is hardly a new release, but I wasn’t blogging when Blonde Redhead’s 23 came out last year, and since I gave it a listen this morning and was bowled over all over again by how great it is, I thought maybe I’d write about it a bit.

I’ll confess that I don’t know a huge amount of Blonde Redhead’s music.  When I was doing college radio back in the late 90’s, I knew some guys who liked them a lot, and I played tracks from them from time-to-time myself.  I recall them sounding pretty much like Sonic Youth knock-offs, but if that was the case then, their abilities have developed quite a bit.

Which isn’t to say that Sonic Youth isn’t still an apt reference point.  They’re definitely still an art rock band, and the album ripples with tension.  But the band indulges their pop instincts now as well.  This contrast is embodied in singer Kazu Makino’s voice, which often verges on shrillness, but never quite crosses that line, instead coming across as both unearthly and alluring.

Opening track “23″ is all thundering drums and deep bass, with “Glider”-era My Bloody Valentine guitars layered on top.  The song walks a fine balance between art rock and pop, and does it magnificently, setting the stage for the rest of the album.  The album’s second highlight is “Silently”, whose slinky beat, ethereal harmonies, and poignant chorus make it the album’s pop centerpiece.  “Top Ranking”, the penultimate track, could almost be described as jangle pop if it wasn’t so apprehensive and creepy sounding.  And album closer “My Impure Hair” is haunting, beautiful dream pop, allowing the album to drift away at the end, in contrast to its thundering opening.

Those are the album’s highlights, but the rest of the material is fine as well. Amedeo Pace sings the bulk of the album’s middle section (“Silently”, somewhat oddly, is nestled between his three songs), and while his voice is a bit annoying, it fits the unsettling vibe of the material (the best of his songs is the propulsive “Spring And By Summer Fall”).  This album is really good.  I’m going to have to dig into the back catalog.

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Basie’s At Night by Sadao Watanabe

Basie's At Night

Back in August I wrote about a concert by Japanese sax player Sadao Watanabe at Yoshi’s in San Francisco that my wife and I went to.  At the show, we picked up a copy of his new album, Basie’s at Night, which officially came out in the States a few days later on Koch Records (though it has apparently been out in Japan for over a year). The album, a 17 track, two disc live set recorded at club Basie in Ichinoseki (280 miles North of Tokyo), proved a wonderful complement to the show, as it features a similar selection of material and most of the same personnel that we saw at Yoshi’s (guitarist Jun Kajiwara doesn’t appear on the Basie set, and it features Koichi Osamu on bass instead of Kiichiro Komobuchi, whom Watanabe said was making his debut with the band the night we saw them at Yoshi’s).

Obligatory Jazz Disclaimer:  I like jazz, but I don’t know anything about it.

The Basie show seems to start off in a more straight-ahead jazz mode than the Yoshi’s set did, though this could be my imagination (certainly overall, the setlist shows the same eclecticism that was on display at Yoshi’s).  When I saw the combo live, Watanabe often seemed willing to allow the band to dominate a song for several minutes at a time, but here his saxophone is definitely the dominant presence, and his playing is excellent – soulful and elegant, fiery on the fast tracks, and with a beautiful tone.

Highlights of the set include a ripping version of “I’m Old Fashioned” (probably my favorite song here); the percussive, jubilant “Tembea”, which features an extended percussion solo by N’diasse Niang and excellent playing by pianist Akira Onozuka; the laid back Watanabe composition “Life Is All Like That (For Snoopy & His Friends)”, which Watanabe dedicated to Charles Schultz when he played it at Yoshi’s; and the rollicking “Harambee”, whose carefree atmosphere is enhanced by the band chanting through the opening measures while the audience claps along.  The record dips through a variety of jazz styles – bop, cool, latin, bossa nova – before closing with a delicate rendition of Pixinguinha’s “Carinhoso”.

The only real weak spot on the album is a traditional number called “Alalake”, one of Watanabe’s excursions into African music, which I found a bit dull (I believe they played the same song at Yoshi’s, and I found it rather dull there, as well) – not bad, but not my thing.  But even there, things pick up midway through when the song morphs nicely into “Lopin’”, a percussion-heavy slow number.

All-in-all, an excellent record, perhaps not a classic, but sophisticated and rewarding.  Recommended.

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Oceans Will Rise by the Stills

Oceans Will Rise

Oceans Will Rise

I wrote a week back about the Stills’ great new single, “Being Here”. I’ve since had some time to listen to and digest the accompanying album, Oceans Will Rise, and the results are … pretty damn good, if imperfect, and a reassuring move back towards the band’s early sound after the stylistic detour on their second album.

I fell in love with the Stills’ first album, Logic Will Break Your Heart, when it came out in 2003.  One of the many albums mining 80’s post-punk in the wake of the breakout success of the Strokes and Interpol, the Stills stood out by pulling from a more diverse set of influences than their contemporaries, incorporating elements of shoegazing and Britpop as well as the more usual Chameleons and Echo & The Bunnymen references.  And Tim Fletcher’s affecting, emotional vocals gave their music a more intimate feel than many of their peers, who were largely trying to emulate Lou Reed’s nonchalance or Ian Curtis’ icy emotional remoteness.  The result was a gloomy, grandiose album – cohesive and compelling, if occasionally flawed (I never cared for their stabs at dance punk, for example, and the songwriting didn’t always live up to the pure pleasure of the album’s big sound).

Logic Will Break Your Heart

Logic Will Break Your Heart

The band switched gears for their follow-up, though.  2006’s Without Feathers saw a line-up shift, as guitarist Greg Paquet left the group and drummer Dave Hamelin switched instruments to take his spot.  Hamelin was apparently already the band’s primary songwriter on the debut, and he now took up the bulk of the singing duties as well (he sang only one song on Logic, but over half on Feathers).  His voice, while not bad, didn’t have the presence of Fletcher’s, and combined with a radical shift in sound – away from 80’s anglophilia towards a more ragged, rock n’ roll sound – it left many fans perplexed and disappointed.  Feathers is actually a decent collection of songs, but it jettisons much of the personality of Logic, leaving the band sounding somewhat generic.

With Oceans Will Rise, the band seems to be trying to split the difference between the two albums.  It’s not a full return to Logic’s atmospherics and gloom, but there are bigger guitars, slicker production, more nods to new wave and Britpop … and a lot more Fletcher vocals (unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find songwriting credits for the album, to determine if this is a strategic move on the band’s part, or simply the result of Fletcher writing more material this time out).

The Stills<br /><em>(photo by Liam Maloney)</em>

photo by Liam Maloney

The album doesn’t open particularly strongly, starting with the dull, vaguely reggae-tinged “Don’t Talk Down”, and after the odd but propulsive “Snow In California”, stumbling again with the slow, percussive “Snakecharming The Masses”.

With track four, however – the aforementioned “Being Here” – the album catches fire.  That song’s arena-size sound isn’t matched by anything else here, but there’s plenty of other tracks that come close:  “Panic” and “Hands On Fire” ply similar anthemic terrain, while garage rocker “Eastern Europe” sounds like the band is on the verge of losing control.  Elsewhere, “I’m With You” hearkens back to the earthier sonics of Feathers, while the quiet album-closing ballad “Statue Of Sirens” is all finger-picked arpeggios and lovely harmony vocals, giving Fletcher a final platform to show off his beautiful voice.  The only real misstep in the album’s second half is “Rubioos/Palm Wine Drinkard”, another garage rocker – and an epic one at that – that somehow fails to pull its pieces together into something memorable.

The end result is an excellent album, lacking their debut’s cohesiveness and sense of gloom, but on a song-for-song basis possibly a bit stronger.  And fans who were dismayed with Feathers will be relieved to see that that record was just a detour, and that the band is now moving back onto course.  Recommended.

The Stills

photo by Ashley Tredenick

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Elbow’s The Seldom Seen Kid wins the Mercury Prize

The Seldom Seen Kid

The Seldom Seen Kid

So, Elbow’s The Seldom Seen Kid has won the 2008 Mercury Prize (beating out Radiohead, who are apparently doomed to be forever nominated, never victorious), awarded to the best album out of the UK or Ireland for the year.  I actually just got around to picking up a copy of the album two weeks ago, and was hoping to have had a review up for it by now.  But that hasn’t happened – the problem being that The Seldom Seen Kid, like their debut Asleep in the Back (the only other Elbow album I have), is entirely made up of slow, quiet, melancholy songs, which take a long, long time to sink in.

Eventually they do, however, and as with Elbow’s debut, the results are rewarding – alternately mesmerizing and unsettling, and frequently beautiful, with rhythmic complexities and subtle shadings that slowly reveal themselves across multiple listens.  The only band that I can think of that they really remind me of are the Doves, except without that group’s occasional forays into anthemic rock (“The Cedar Room”) or pop (“Words”).

The Seldom Seen Kid turns out to be a very consistent, strong set of material.  There are a few “rock” songs – first single “Grounds For Divorce” (which throws some fuzz bass into the chorus, making it considerably heavier than the other tracks) and “Bones Of You” (also a single) – but most of it plies Elbow’s usual slow, deliberate terrain.  “Weather To Fly” is one of these tracks, but it benefits from a particularly delicate production that matches the song’s mood perfectly.  “The Loneliness Of A Tower Crane Driver” and “Some Riot” are both slow, stately tracks, but the former builds to a stirring climax while the latter slowly fades away in haunting reverie.  The album’s highlight, however, is penultimate track (and second single) “One Day Like This”, an uncharacteristically uplifting track, with a beautiful, rasped chorus and a sing-along fadeout reminiscent of “Hey Jude”.

There are a couple weak moments on the album – “An Audience With The Pope”, which manages to largely sound trite, and “The Fix”, which sounds like the band was watching too many spaghetti westerns with Ennio Morricone soundtracks while recording.  But everything else is top-notch, and the album is well worth picking up.

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