Showing posts with label Menzingers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Menzingers. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

June Mixtape


Highlighting the songs I've discovered, rediscovered, or repeatedly played each month. The order reflects an attempt to create a cohesive mixtape, not to rank the songs in any way.




1. Wavves - "Post-Acid." I really like Wavves' second album, but there are some moments where he needed to drop the Animal Collective impression and embrace a punkier aesthetic.  He does that brilliantly on "Post-Acid," a raucous anthem that demands headbanging, steering-wheel-drumming, and sing/shoutalongs. (I'm guilty of all three.)  Unlike the vulnerable "Beat Me Up" (see song #2), Williams sounds cold and even cruelly calloused here, as he confesses, "I'm just having fun with you."  But while Williams doesn't sound like the ideal friend (see here for evidence) or lover, he also refuses to sugarcoat or wallow in his flaws.  I find that commendable.  When evaluating Wavves, and also Kanye (see below), moral and aesthetic judgments do not necessarily hold equal weight, and I think it's a testament to the power of art when we, as listeners, suspend or reconsider our values.

2. Wavves -  "Beat Me Up."  Woah, the chorus on this.  It's like grunge visits the beach -- Seattle meets SoCal.  The handclaps recall early Beach Boys but the drawling, echoey vocals and fuzzy guitars are much more rooted in 90s alternative rocks.  Surprisingly, Wavves blends these seemingly disparate genres in one up-tempo, self-deprecating summer jam.  Lyrically, it's simplistic, sincere, and morbidly funny: "Do you really think I easily bruise? / Or do you have a smoke that I could borrow? / I just wanna spend some time with you... / Or you could beat me up." For such a short song, "Beat Me Up" surprisingly hasn't lost it's staying power after a month of nonstop listens.  I feel confident labeling it one of the best songs of 2013.

3. Wavves - "Green Eyes."  The summer of Wavves continues!  I have distinct memories with each of these songs: I played "Post-Acid" while driving to and from Topps' diner, screaming "I'm juuuust having fun... with you-ou-ou-ooouuu"; "Beat Me Up" repeatedly on a vomit-filled NJ transit bus, eagerly awaiting my arrival to Corey/Ryan/James/Tori's house; and "Green Eyes" while driving to Annie's, navigating through traffic on 95 (what a surprise).  On "Green Eyes," Williams layers on the self-deprecation: "I try running away / I'm just not fast enough"; "My own friends hate me"; "I try staying awake / I'm just not man enough"; and "I would try and understand / That I'm to blame / 'Cause I'm so lame."  Despite all this, though, he never lets his miseries detract from the summery instrumentals.  With layers of guitars, catchy percussion, and xylophones, I guess it's hard to wallow -- much easier to sing along, shouting your own failures with Williams, or just being happy knowing you're in a much better place.

4. The Menzingers - "Mexican Guitars."  I gotta say, when I started listening to the Menzingers, I did not expect heartbreaking, beautiful, nostalgic poetry.  I was happy just to find a band that could pull off a more mature version of pop-punk than the stuff I listened to 8-9 years ago.  But wow, this song is stunning.  The singer (I'm unsure of his name) recollects his memories with an "old friend," from their drinking on porch steps to learning songs on Mexican guitars.  We never learn what ruined this relationship, but even as the singer describes leaving town "to wander around the world for a little bit," he cannot escape "the memory in the back of [his] head": "I'm on cruise control and the radio was on / Yeah, they were playing that song / That we both learned on our Mexican guitars . . . / You were my old friend." The song devastatingly ends the way it begins, only changing the indefinite article "you were an old friend" to the more intimate possessive pronoun "you were my old friend."  As the song comes full-circle lyrically, we're reminded that there is no transcendence here, only a heightened feeling of despair and loss punctuated by mournful guitars and throat-shredding vocals.


5. Deafheaven - "Dream House."  I don't ever really listen to metal, but I was lucky enough to find this on Spin's top 40 songs of 2013.  I used the playlist as jogging music, but found it mostly filled with sucky rap and hip-hop.  Just when I was about to write it off for good, a surge of shoegazey guitars flooded my headphones; finally, I thought, something to run to!  But I was quickly in awe when the curdling black metal vocals and relentlessly heavy drums emerged.  I've never heard anything so colorful and textured yet also so incredibly heavy and frigid.  And the song kept going and going: sunny guitars glimmering and rising to explosive levels while icy vocals angrily crackle.   Six minutes in, the song finally seemed to come to a close, but it was only the band manipulating loud/soft dynamics -- insisting that metal does not need to be incessantly heavy to be effective.  The song re-emerged with a blistering crescendo, as winding guitars seared through fuzzy feedback and drums escalated in a slow but commanding breakdown.  I'm still completely fascinated and inspired by this unbelievable hybrid of a song, and I'm glad to see it's getting the hype it deserves.

6. The Drums - "Days."  Sorry to the Drums, but they're totally the outlier on this mix.  Their Real Estate-sque brand of chimey guitars and breezy vocals were a nice addition to my summer commutes/workouts, but they don't gel with the rest of these songs.  Oh well.  I think that the band sounds like a sunnier version of the XX's nocturnal melodies, though their lyrics are actually much bleaker: "Days go by, and I never needed you."

7. Kanye West - "Hold My Liquor."  In stark contrast to the visceral, minimalistic diatribes that open Kanye's Yeezus, "Hold My Liquor" begins subdued and introspectively, with an auto-tuned Bon Iver somberly gurgling "I can hold my liquor."  This just gets things started on what proves to be a volatile and ornately crafted song.  Keys begin to tap quietly over cloudy ambient noise, as an autotuned Chief Keef admits, after inhaling what sounds like weed, "I can't handle no liquor."  Then Kanye emerges, rapping with conviction over two beats: one brake-screeching and the other effervescent electronics.  Despite his seriousness, he still finds room for comedy--"Slightly scratched your Corolla / Okay, I smashed your Corolla"-- though overall the subject matter is digressive [the lyrics overall on this album are often more provocative than profound].  The architecture of this song, however, is absolutely stunning, totally unlike anything I've ever heard before on a rap album (though that genre now seems too restrictive for what Kanye's creating here). For instance, after Kanye's long verse, he interpolates some robotic vocal on the bridge, which blends with Justin Vernon's auto-tuned falsetto and baritone.  This incredibly moody moment lasts only for a few seconds, as we're brought to Chief Keef's heavier hook again, which seems to direct us towards the climax -- only instead the volume completely fades.  Next on this musical rollercoaster, Bon Iver again delivers an emotionally potent mix of auto-tuned falsetto and baritone with nearly no instrumental accompaniment.  This finally leads to the song's purely instrumental climax, featuring layers of synths and guitars that sound more fitting on Pink Floyd's Animals or Wish You Were Here than on a rap album, no matter how experimental.  And exhale!  "Hold My Liquor" is such a genre-bender of a song, and Kanye makes it seem so effortless. [Note to Kanye: you need to create an LP with Bon Iver. Every song you've released with him thus far has been phenomenal ("Monster," "Lost in the World," "Hold My Liquor," "I'm In It").]

8. Kanye West - "Blood on the Leaves."  When I saw Yeezus was streaming, I decided to give it my undivided attention.  So I went in my room, put on headphones, and laid on my bed listening. [Note to self: please do this more often; this is how you learned to love music; why'd you stop?]  I was a little afraid of the album after opener "On Sight," which basks in its hideousness, but became more and more enamored as I soared through songs like "New Slaves" and "Hold My Liquor."  But "Blood on the Leaves" left me completely stunned.  When that massive, brassy beat finally drops, a smile ran across my face.  I couldn't take it off.  In fact, I'm still in awe of this.  Kanye sounds absolutely incensed, tearing through the fourth verse with furious conviction.  And the sample of Nina Simone's "Strange Fruit" is stunning.  I don't think Kanye for a second equates his relationship issues with the lynchings of slaves, but I do think  Kanye feels like a "new slave" to materialism ("single black female / addicted to retail," he sung years ago on "All Falls Down"), women, drugs, and corporate execs.  He also certainly enjoys the provocation of the sample.  There's so much more to say about this, but I'll save it for another time.  I think it easily cracks the top 3 songs of the year.

Friday, June 21, 2013

May Mixtape


Highlighting the songs I've discovered, rediscovered, or repeatedly played each month. The order reflects an attempt to create a cohesive mixtape, not to rank the songs in any way.




1. Daft Punk feat. Panda Bear - "Doin' It Right."  After a month of listens, I'm still unsure if Daft Punk's newest album is as great as everyone makes it out to be.  I definitely don't think Random Access Memories matches the brilliance of Discovery; there's no "One More Time" or "Digital Love" on here, not even an "Aerodynamic."  There are, however, some true standouts, especially the sensual "The Game of Love" and the funky, endlessly catchy "Get Lucky," which is rightfully claiming its spot as the 2013's go-to summer anthem.  But the first song I heard after "Get Lucky" was "Doin' It Right," whose gargled, robotic vocals immediately had me hooked--even as I struggled to register the unlikely pairing of Panda Bear and Daft Punk.  The combo does work, though, producing tremendous results, as PB's breezy vocals float over the track's looped noise and tiptoeing keys.  The chorus is brilliant and timeless, and probably speaks to the transcendent experience of DP's live show: "If you lose your way tonight that's how you know the magic's right." Yet the song is also tinged with sadness, as the robot occasionally sputters "You're not doing it right," perhaps critiquing the current state of EDM or, even, lamenting music's inability to consistently conjure the "right" magic for its listeners.

2. James Blake - "I Am Sold." I was so excited for James Blake's new album, and I feel like my expectations were half-met: "Retrograde" is Overgrown's centerpiece and one of JB's best songs to date, "Overgrown" begins the album with a powerful slow-burner, and "I Am Sold" has the most wonderfully sinister bass line Blake's produced yet.  But man, is "Take A Fall for Me" horrible, or what?  I don't know how Blake allowed such a cheesy song on his album, or why the album slumbers on the second half, but it's a shame to see him experiment so successfully and disastrously on the same album.  Talk about risk/reward.  I do keep returning to "I Am Sold" for its fragile vocals, hazy, smokey-room atmosphere, and that amazing bass line, though.  Hopefully Blake will select tracks more wisely on his third album.


3. The Menzingers - "Burn After Writing."  I have this very untested theory about pop-punk and emo: while emo bands often exaggerate drama and exploit their fan's fragile emotions, pop-punk bands are more direct and sincere.  Pop-punk is also not as whiny and narcissistic as emo generally is, even though pop-punk's lead-singers often sound like pre-pubescent boys.  The Menzingers certainly don't sound like that (the vocals are deeper), but everything else (the multiple guitars, speedy drums, bouncy chorus) epitomizes pop-punk.  And you know what?  It's a great genre.  It brings me back to the happy times of my adolescence and still sounds fresh enough that I want to make new memories to it.  Thanks for the recommendation, Nick Parco.

4. Bright Eyes - "Beginner's Mind."  I was  skeptical of any new Conor Oberst material after some very insipid side-projects (Mystic Valley Band, Monsters of Folk) and the alarmingly uneven Cassadaga, so The People's Key came as a wonderful surprise.  I think "Beginner's Mind" is my favorite track from the album because Oberst sounds so damn interested, unlike some of his detached narratives from Cassadaga ([don't] see the god-awful "Classic Cars," whose title should be enough evidence of Oberst's indifference).  It's been awhile since Oberst has sounded this sincere and has sung with such urgency, and the result is a more mature--or less whiny--version of Oberst's Fevers and Mirrors material, when he would gasp through each note as if it would be his last.  Here he pleads to a "beginner's mind" to remain innocent and not conform to "all those tangled hypocrites," which may be Oberst revisiting his past mistakes as he returns to his former singing style.  Maybe.  But anyway, this song is one of Oberst's most contagious (and that's saying something); I hear it once and then need to listen to it for a few weeks until it finally leaves my mind.


5. Vampire Weekend - "Ya Hey."  I did not love Modern Vampires of the City when I first heard it, and I think that's the point: VW's third album challenges its listeners by defamiliarizing conventional pop structures, offering, for instance, squirrelish vocals in place of the chorus on "Ya Hey."  I had no idea what to do with this song when I first heard it; sure, it starts off brilliantly, with Koenig's clear vocals echoing over a lightly foggy backdrop, but that chorus seemed like a buzzkill, interrupting the flow of an otherwise crisp and catchy song.  And the spoken interlude seemed like a deliberate attempt to withhold the song's most gratifying elements: the funky bass, ghostly chants, and Koenig's perfect delivery.  Yet the gratifying elements kept me returning, and eventually the things I didn't like became strangely addicting.  Maybe this is the way to keep ephemeral pop fresh and interesting, as the song ages for the listener with time?  I'm not sure.  I am sure, however, that I'm reluctant to play this song in front of friends because they might 1) not like it and 2) ask questions that I really can't answer: "What the hell is this squirrel doing?"  "Why is the singer talking?"  So I'll enjoy this one by myself, searching for answers while also enjoying the unexpected pleasures of this hunt.

6. The National - "Fireproof."  Woah, this was a treat.  I was first struck by this song during one of my commutes from a rainy Lincoln Center; as I was exiting my subway station, I felt immediately taken in by Matt Berninger's haunting vocals and that heavily ominous bassoon, which drops like an earthquake when Berninger sings "you're fireproof." The finger plucking guitar recalls the pianos from Boxer's "Abel," but the dark mood of this song--heightened by an allusion to Elliott Smith's devastating "Needle in the Hay"--raises comparisons to "Mistaken for Strangers" and "Afraid of Everyone."  Only here the drums are subdued, tempered like the passions of the mysteriously "fireproof" subject.

7. The National - "Sea of Love."  Bryan Devendorf's brilliant drumming is more prominent on "Sea of Love," possibly my favorite song from this excellent album.  (What a great month for music!)  I first heard "Sea" when I watched its charming video, which interestingly captures both the intensity and claustrophobia of the National's music.  Yet "Sea of Love" is, as its title suggests, free-roaming, an expansive anthem that reminds us, especially when juxtaposed with "Fireproof," of the incredible emotional range of this incredibly emotional band.