teabowl

Violator (Deluxe Edition CD+DVD)

Depeche Mode. Rhino / Wea 2006, Audio CD, $18.31

It’s hard to remember, from today’s perspective, just how powerful Depeche Mode’s Violator was when it came out in 1990. It neatly, elegantly bridged the gap between punk and mainstream pop while at the same time articulating an aesthetic that somehow convincingly melded the blues to the band’s meticulously programmed synthpop. For the first time on a DM record, guitars occupy a somewhat equal space with sequencers and synthesizers. There isn’t a weak track here, and some are true masterpieces of the genre: “Personal Jesus,” “Sweetest Perfection,” “Waiting for the Night,” “Policy of Truth,” “World in my Eyes.” These are beacons of songcraft and electronic production: Alan Wilder’s production is tight, focused and imaginative - much of Depeche Mode’s ‘classic’ sound, from Some Great Reward to Songs of Faith and Devotion, is due to Wilder’s clever instrumentation and arrangements, and DM have never quite sounded the same since he left in 1995. Pet Shop Boys’ Neil Tennant has said that they were deeply envious of DM’s sound on Violator.

There’s still a freshness to this record’s sound, especially in the remastered CD/DVD version, that can make you want to dance. In big goth boots, maybe. Eyeliner and Martin Gore boa optional.

Heathen [Limited Edition w/Bonus Disc]

David Bowie. Sony 2002, Audio CD, $9.70

Released in 2002, this is - for me - Bowie’s most satisfying record of the 2000s so far. It demonstrates what rock can sound like today - well-produced, full, dense, interesting, full of aural appeal, mystery, layers, greys and autumn colours. Bowie’s legacy, of course, is an impossibility to comment on in its entirety; this CD shows Bowie taking a look at it and creating un-ironic new music that’s both modern and conscious of many aspects of classic Bowie. Still one of rock’s most evocative lyricists, Bowie’s art is often in the way he leaves things unsaid - “5:15 The Angels Have Gone” is an ode to public transit as much as a love song and metaphysical reflection:

5:15 | Train overdue. | Angels have gone. | No ticket. | I’m jumping tracks. | I’m changing towns. | We never talk anymore. | Forever I will adore you.

If you thought Bowie’s run ended with Scary Monsters, think again. There’s a slew of newer records that are very good. While I wouldn’t necessarily recommend Earthling and Outside as (much) more than uneven oddities with really great bits, Hours, Heathen and Reality are all great, satisfying, ‘mature’ (in the best way) Bowie records.

Carried to Dust

Calexico. Quarterstick 2008, Audio CD, $10.59

And while I’m busy clearing the backlog of “CDs I must mention on my blog,” here’s a definite contender for 2008 Record of the Year. Calexico is an Arizona-based outfit that makes an interesting blend of indie pop and Mariachi/Rock en Espanol, full of deep rumbling basses, accordions and nimble, brushed drums. For me, this music evokes the desert somehow. (I can say this with slightly more legitimacy than someone who’s just seen too many spaghetti westerns because I actually grew up in a desert country. But that’s not strictly relevant.) I can imagine driving on a night-time desert highway and be carried by these sounds. They have a certain intimacy that makes you want to focus entirely on the music. Another observation - for me at least - is how similar parts of Carried to Dust are to some of Chris Isaak’s post-surf rock, music that should be talked about much more than it is (sadly).

There’s been much to love in Calexico’s music for many years. I’m especially fond of the Mexican influences - Calexico’s embrance of another culture’s music is a much-needed widening of indie’s prevailing young-white-man aesthetic (these days, the young men don’t even seem particularly angry). At times, Calexico sound delightfully like a less rocky Los Lobos. Is this as ‘authentic’ as Los Lobos, who have an impeccable East LA pedigree? When you listen to Calexico’s incredibly funky electronica/ranchero “Inspiración,” does it matter?

There’s a theme in Calexico of embracing other cultures and actively adding to the ‘Americana’ song book. Joey Burns, one half of Calexico, has recently produced L’Entredeux by Marianne Dissard, a French singer-songwriter based in Tucson. Unlike anything I’ve heard come out of Quebec (which, you’d think, would produce all kinds of North-American-cool pop music sung in French, but doesn’t, presumably because it’s trying to be Frencher than anyone in France), this is an excellent blend of French chanson with Americana, conveying the sort of low-key sophistication that makes it perfect for a dinner party with smart people who’d like some continental flavour but don’t want to risk the new album by Carla Bruni.

I think Calexico is one excellent way for indie to stop gazing at its own shoes and start to take notice of what else there is in the world. Joey Burns and John Convertino discovered that the world is right on their doorstep. 66 miles due South, to be exact.

On an irrelevant but related side note, Ready Made magazine’s October/November 2008 has a whole page about how Calexico made its own drum brushes out of bamboo. Unfortunately, the piece doesn’t seem to be online. The magazine’s not worth buying, but the article is worth checking out as an example of truly superb spin doctoring. Getting your act’s do-it-yourself project mentioned in a do-it-yourselfer magazine to coincide with your record release is completely awesome.

Oh (Ohio)

Lambchop. Merge Records 2008, Audio CD, $10.59

Despite the recording industry’s continuing contraction (not unlike the financial system’s), the world is full of beautiful music that’s worth hearing. One result of the long tail economy has been that there’s so much more music being released independently but not necessarily distributed or marketed. It’s a lot of work reading all the relevant magazines and sites to get ideas and stay on top of things. All of this as a preamble to establish some sort of reasonable way for me to say that I hadn’t ever heard Lambchop before today. I had read about them and they were on my must-check-them-out radar for a while. Now, though, there’s a new album, and New Release Tuesday put it in front of me so that I couldn’t ignore it any longer. In a handy listening post, no less.

This is spectacularly beautiful music. It’s immediately engaging and fits right into the Americana-country-folk-jazz gumbo I’ve been listening to lately. It’s a sort of downtempo alt-country (but alt-country not in a twangy way - more in a “what if Elvis had lived and regressed back to his glam country roots” kind of way), sung by singer-songwriter Kurt Wagner in a dispassionate, minimalist, low voice while an eleven-piece band plays some of the biggest quiet music you can imagine.

Some of it sounds a little like a loungy, countrified, downtempo, ever-so-slightly electronic version of Marvin Gaye’s late period slow burners. Then, there are pieces that somehow marry Neil Diamond and REM (if that makes any sense). Despite being very different vocalists, Kurt Wagner also has something of Bryan Ferry’s theatricality.

This is a very ‘technicolor’ record - incredibly big and very focused and economical at the same time. The quality of the recorded sound is beautiful throughout: a ramarkably sparse ‘widescreen’ experience where power comes from practicing restraint. This is quite a different band from, say, the Arcade Fire - there, more musicians means more sound, more space of the spectrum taken up by noise. Here, it’s the opposite: it’s a fun guessing game to see if you can spot what instrument/musician might have produced the barely audible murmur in the background.

Another good game would be to come up with theories as to why Kurt Wagner needs eleven musicians at all. Not that I’m complaining. I would highly recommend this, and I’ll be exploring more Lambchop.

Lifeline

Ben Harper & the Innocent Criminals. Virgin Records Us 2007, Audio CD, $8.29

Ben Harper plays a stylish blend of rock, reggae and old-style r’n'b, like a subtler, less flashy version of Lenny Kravitz. These are well-crafted, well-rehearsed songs, recorded in just seven days in a studio in Paris, directly to 16-track without using any digital tools. The CD sounds open, airy and spacious. It’s sort of like Ben Harper’s ‘unplugged’ album. I’ve been a Ben Harper follower for a long time; in fact, it’s a little hard for me to pick just one Ben Harper record for the desert island batch. So I’ll pick this one because I’m enjoying it right now. There’s a certain honesty in Ben Harper’s music - a lack of irony, a deep understanding of, and reflection on, the history of popular music. I think this is becoming a bit of a theme for me: high quality music, a bit ‘retro,’ that avoids irony… anyway, this is a great record that you should listen to if you can.

The Bride Stripped Bare

Bryan Ferry. Virgin Records Us 2000, Audio CD, $7.50

Bryan Ferry is a classic crooner in the same sense that Frank Sinatra was - he can sing anything and imbue it with his own style, interpreting it meaningfully and casting it in a new light. Starting in the 70s, Ferry established a long tradition of occasionally releasing solo albums that featured cover versions. The Bride Stripped Bare is, in my opinion, the best example of this: filled with ‘The Same Old Blues,’ ‘Carrickfergus’ and ‘Take Me to the River,’ it can’t fail. The arrangements are tasteful and accomplished, and Ferry’s own compositions (almost) keep up with the covers. His version of ‘That’s How Strong My Love Is’ has to be heard to be believed - it’s completely over the top to the point of being camp, and emotionally touching and sincere at the same time… quite an accomplishment. Most people would think of this as a ‘minor’ record at best, a footnote made by someone who was famous for something else; I think it deserves to be loved for being fearless and really showcasing Bryan Ferry’s unique and sensuous voice.

It’s heartening to see that there are rock ‘n’ roll acts who age gracefully. I think this is particularly (maybe a little too) important for those of us who would still like to think of themselves as a little counter-cultural, or at least open to it, not fully on ‘the man’s’ side, not quite bought in/sold out. While actually saying these things may have just caused all of them to happen to me anyway, I’d like to think of myself as someone who’s at best skeptical about many aspects of what society appears to expect from someone who’s 38 (work, life circumstances, where I live, what I wear, how I choose to spend my time, etc.). And so I search for validation for some of these choices as we all do, seeking to affirm them and understand them in the context of what I see others do. Preferably others who have something to say, show or share.

Since I’m such a music nut, looking to rock appears to be a good choice - rock has a lot to offer, continues to be a vital form of music and is filled with interesting characters. But they’re not always beacons of inspiration. I mean, Bono? He’s inimitably larger-than-life at best and wears really bad sunglasses at worst. I won’t build a list of rock musicians and pithy comments here; suffice it to say that successful musicians seem caught in an insect net of ’stardom,’ limiting genre definitions, unfortunate ‘reinventions,’ the drive to develop more-or-less useful charitable or political profiles, and so on. Speaking metaphorically, it sometimes seems that once a rock musician’s career is in full swing, there’s little discernably left of the person. It’s all been lost in a PR maelstrom. And I think what happens frequently (too frequently) is that the music suffers as a result.

Take Coldplay (okay, one more example). They seem like lovely people. Smart, likable, they write good music, support good causes and lead intelligent lives. And yet - once you get to that sort of level of exposure - some almost imperceptible thing sets in where, as Noel Gallagher put it in the August 2008 edition of Mojo, the music becomes afflicted by “the Brian Eno curse.” Why do they need Brian Eno? Is it to try and re-capture the greatness he and U2 achieved on Achtung Baby? Is that realistic? Is it even it? Another reviewer of Coldplay’s latest oeuvre said that they were trying to subtly bring ‘indie’ to major label music (don’t remember where I read this). Realizing that’s exactly what Coldplay tries to do didn’t make me admire them more (as, say, ‘revolutionaries from inside the system’) but rather less. Okay, enough with the exposé - you get my point.

Acts that do inspire, time and again, and that seem to have found a positive balance, a comfortable place in the treacherous tapestry of rock ‘n’ roll ’stardom,’ are therefore a rare and meaningful find. They’re to be cherished. Each new record release or media interview causes me slight anxiety (”Is he going to say something stupid?” - “Have they turned into a retro act?”) and palpable relief when they get it right one more time. Of course I’m fully aware of the carefully constructed nature of it all and realize that - especially when it comes to representing oneself in the media - almost everything can be carefully controlled. Yet I think that the music can’t really lie. I think I, and other listeners, can tell if it sucks. It’s that simple.

Two artists that I return to as resting poles of graceful aging are Paul Weller and Pearl Jam. Weller founded The Jam in the late 70s and, after its demise, saw out the 80s with The Style Council. Two completely different styles done with eloquence, skill and inspiration. Even his more obscure pop-jazz stylings in the 80s were never anything less than an interesting musical and sartorial exploration. Weller has subsequently developed a fabulous solo career that started in the early 90s and continues strongly today. Nine studio albums in, this is rock ‘n’ roll for grown-ups, music that resonates, grooves, makes you think, calls up references from the storied history of popular music as seen through a 50-year-old British musician’s eyes. Paul Weller, in many ways, did everything right - he’s a great and ever-maturing singer, a fabulous guitar player, a man of excellent taste. He’s also an important taste-maker, as evidenced by the many, many leading British musicians who openly acknowledge him as a revered influence (Oasis et al.).

I know Paul Weller’s latest offering has been received cautiously by the critics, but I’ll recommend it here anyway. I think that ‘cautiously’ is the only way one can receive a Paul Weller record that doesn’t immediately reveal itself as the work of rock ‘n’ roll genius… 22 Dreams is full of excellent music, though some of it may not be as accessible as, say, Wild Wood (which - if you don’t own it - you should go and buy immediately). It’s perhaps the prerogative of a gracefully aging rock musician to be ‘allowed’ to conduct gentle experiments and not lose a single follower in the process.

22 Dreams

Paul Weller. Yep Roc Records 2008, Audio CD, $10.10

On to Pearl Jam. If you’re like me, you’ll remember them primarily as members of Seattle’s ‘grunge’ movement from the late 80s/early 90s. A sludgy, heavy-metalish sound, but punkier maybe, more do-it-yourself-ish. Not a bad band, but - for someone who felt that he was just emerging from the “Metal 80s” and cutting his hair for the first time in years, it felt like a bit of a throw-back. I struggled to see exactly how Ten was substantially different from some of the smarter, more mature metal bands at the time. So I mostly ignored Pearl Jam. (Nirvana, on the other hand, had what appeared to be more of a punk edge, and an outstanding singer-songwriter at the helm who then killed himself. Not a role model, maybe, but quite iconic. And great music, too.) I was vaguely aware that Pearl Jam had become one of the most popular and successful rock bands of the 90s, but that just caused me to do what I typically do with fame - I don’t go and investigate an act just because it’s famous. I wait for something else to pique my interest.

Fast forward many years to about 18 months ago. I’m not sure what made me look at Pearl Jam again (it’s not like I really needed more CDs or anything). But somehow, starting somewhere in the mid-90s, Pearl Jam turned itself into an incredible ‘alternative acoustic rock’ act with brilliant, economical songcraft, an intelligent ‘message’ profile and perfectly acceptable hair cuts. Eddie Vedder turned out to be a deeply gifted lyricist, someone who has the ability to write honest lyrics that aren’t cloying or terrible in other ways. Sure, there’s an earnestness in Pearl Jam’s music, but - if you’ve looked at my blog before - earnestness, for me, is not a deterrent (not everything has to be seen through a pop culture irony filter; that gets old very quickly).

So for every 30-something reader who’s still wondering what, exactly, happened to MTV’s Unplugged, I’ll recommend two Pearl Jam records that continue to amaze me at each listen. And, I think, I’ll also throw in Eddie Vedder’s recent solo soundtrack album from Into the Wild, a Sean Penn movie I’ve not seen. Listen to these records if you’re looking for music that won’t make you feel like you’re 16 if you’re really, well, a little bit older than that.

Riot Act

Pearl Jam. Sony 2002, Audio CD, $4.32

Live at Benaroya Hall

Pearl Jam. Ten Club 2004, Audio CD, $9.19

Music for the Motion Picture Into the Wild

Eddie Vedder. J-Records 2007, Audio CD, $11.52

It’s odd - sometimes there’s an artist who, despite my best efforts to take an inclusive view, slips through my fingers for years. I may know about them but - for whatever reason - I’ve never really listened to them. Then, something triggers a journey of discovery, and I explore what for me is a hidden gem (that everyone else has known about for years).

The Kinks recently became a case like that. A leisurely, sunny late-morning breakfast in New York’s East Village bore decent food and very pleasurable music. Neither of us knew who it was, but it was so good that we asked. The waiter, an Indian chap, said they were “Kings,” and it took several more songs (and the appearance of ‘L.O.L.A. Lola’) for the coin to finally drop. Oh, the Kinks!

A quick visit to Amazon.com resulted in this:

The Kink Kronikles

The Kinks. Reprise / Wea 1990, Audio CD, $12.38

Fabulous music. At first, second and third listen, what I love most is how English they are. And that they’re perhaps ‘more like the Beatles and less like the Stones’ (whatever that means; I’ve never been a big Stones fan). I like the playfulness of the lyrics, the clean simplicity of the music. Theirs is definitely a catalogue I’d like to explore further.

Other major artists of rock history that are in my blind spot include The Who and The Band. I’ve started to look into The Band more actively lately. Maybe The Who’s next. (Yes, I know that’s an album of theirs. I just haven’t heard it :)

Blame It On Gravity

Old 97’s. New West Records 2008, Audio CD, $9.00

I love this band. They’ve gone through many changes over the years, but there’s always something musical and inspiring to discover in their records. I’ve never seen them play live, but their 2005 live album, Alive and Wired, suggests they’re a “smoking” live act (as the sleeve notes say).

Old 97’s are from Texas and come from the same ‘cow punk’ school made popular by Uncle Tupelo: a punky form of country rock, sort of the anti-Eagles… like Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young if Neil had been allowed to plug in his guitar. This is country restored by injecting Texas singer/songwriter cred and hardcore’s energy. Their early records contained such spectacular songs as ‘Doreen’ and ‘Barrier Reef’ - by the sounds of it, fanbase favourites and staples of the live show.

Since about 1999’s Fight Songs, main songwriter Rhett Miller (who has solo aspirations - there are two solo records) has steered the Old 97’s towards a more pop-inflected sound. The country roots are definitely there, but the subject matter and melodies are oriented towards an indie-pop kind of sound (think Barenaked Ladies or They Might Be Giants). The resulting sound is like a more energetic version of Blue Rodeo, or a slightly slicker, more modern Uncle Tupelo. Where Wilco rose from Tupelo’s ashes and gained virtually limitless credibility by mixing country and experimental indie rock, Old 97’s chose to blend country punk with pop. They’re an easier listen, much lighter than Wilco, and a little less sleepy than Blue Rodeo (who, I always thought, were the anti-Wilco - at the opposite end of the modern country/rock spectrum). (I should say that I deeply admire both Wilco and Blue Rodeo.)

Enough of the comparisons and historical situating and on to the new Old 97’s record. Blame it on Gravity is a very listenable, friendly indie/pop/country album. Perhaps not their strongest studio effort, but it’s got strong highlights in ‘Dance with Me’ and ‘She Loves the Sunset’ - both with wacky Latin influences, putting an indie spin on Jimmy Buffett in a manner of speaking. ‘The Easy Way’ has a bit more crunch to it, ‘The One’ rocks and ‘Color of a Lonely Heart is Blue’ is an excellent ballad.

I’m less positive about songs like ‘My Two Feet’ or ‘Ride’ - they sound too pop or indie, too run-of-the-mill to me. It’s as if their lack of country twang hampers them, holds them back from becoming everything they could be. This band shines when a thumping double bass provides a solid two-note baseline to twangy story songs.

Old 97’s are a band worth exploring. You’ll find a lot to like. I’d suggest you start with their earlier records, but this new one is certainly worth listening to.

Eagles

Eagles. Elektra / Wea 2003, Audio CD, $12.90

Mirrors on the ceiling | Pink champagne on ice | And she said, “We are all just prisoners here, of our own device.”

This is a confession of sorts. I really like the Eagles. I know I’m not supposed to. It’s just not cool. Mainstream rock circa 1976 is like mainstream country today. In fact, much new country sounds distinctly rockier than the Eagles. After punk, New Wave, the 80s, the 90s and the 00s, this music just doesn’t have a place anymore. It doesn’t fit. Old people listen to it. The Eagles are still touring, as a very expensive nostalgia act. After disbanding in the early 80s, they made two quite successful ‘comeback’ albums, Hell Freezes Over in 1994, and the Walmart-only Long Road out of Eden in 2007. Both were reasonably well received, but in that slightly shocked, “It’s not quite terrible! It’s not embarrassing!” kind of way that ‘comeback’ albums are often reviewed these days. They’re competent, journeymanlike productions full of the latest studio techniques, made by artists past their prime. 60 is the new 30.

But when the Eagles were in their prime, they were immensely competent songwriters, assured, even exciting performers, and they made great records. I was born in 1970 with no older siblings, so I have no ‘original’ recollection of any of this. I discovered them ‘on my own.’ Well, I think I taped Eagles Live off of my friend Marc’s dad’s record collection. Then, a little later, I bought it on tape. For some reason, that was the one I latched on to. Reviewing the band’s history and discography now, I realize that this first foray was very much at the tail end of their career and I was listening to a band that was already no longer particularly cohesive. Maybe they never were. Too many drugs and other trappings of Southern California rockstardom.

Even though it’s inexcusable for anyone who professes to write about music on the web to admit to liking them, the Eagles were of course deeply influential, and their aesthetic (coupled, maybe, with the Beach Boys and CSN&Y) permeates every aspect of what we call country and ‘country rock’ today. Even still-active bands in related genres that are beyond a shadow of a doubt ‘credible,’ like Blue Rodeo, Wilco or Carl Newman’s New Pornographers, are more than a little indebted to the Eagles’ way of marrying country/folk harmonies to danceable, old-style rock ‘n’ roll. And their classic songs, themselves distilled archetypes built from classic country and continuing a journey begun by Gram Parsons, the Byrds, Creedence Clearwater Revival and others, have become models for much of what followed.

Like mid-70s Fleetwood Mac (another guilty pleasure I proudly admit to and whose defense I’ll write up one of these days), the production values of records like Hotel California are fantastically detailed and flawlessly well thought out. I’m not sure whether I should say they demonstrate studio mastery: they probably do, but given the incredibly long months/years these artists spent in the studio, I have to imagine productivity was quite low. Whether that was because the equipment - though expensive and great - was cumbersome to use, or whether there were other factors (dissent in the ranks, drugs, too much free time) is unclear to me. Either way, the resulting records sound like studio magic. They have an unmatched clarity (well, I think there are some ‘matches,’ like the Mac’s Rumours…), an anologue warmth and a very spacious balance. They also have real drama.

The Very Best of Eagles is a very nice package and, I think, worth getting for even the most unconvinced Indie listener who’d never consider listening to the Eagles. To understand why you’re manning the barricades, it’s often interesting to return to before the revolution and be open to things as they were then. If you like Carl Newman’s full harmonies/wall-of-sound approach, you might wonder where that came from. This is where. The other audience demographic (to use labelspeak) that would probably really enjoy listening to this is the ‘urban country’ crowd in small towns all over North America. The reason the Eagles are on classic rock format radio and country stations rarely play them is related to formulaic corporate programming norms (and taxonomies created by music historians) rather than any base in reality.

There’s a certain 1970s superstar fabulousness to what the Eagles may sing about; an imagined hippie America that was, even then, probably an entirely mythical place.

Take it easy, take it easy | Don’t let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy […]

Or, of course, a little further along in the same number, the always-classic lines:

I’m a standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona | I’m such a fine sight to see | It’s a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed Ford | Slowin’ down to take a look at me | Come on baby, don’t say maybe […]

These situations and sentiments are both completely familiar and completely strange to us now. That’s because the Eagles (and various country/rock predecessors and cohorts) invented them. As a band, they are perhaps the final truly commercial embodiment of this ethic.

After them, popular music changed forever. It fragmented, renewed itself a hundred times; and with each split and rebirth came layers and layers of judgment about what had come before. Now, in 2008, it’s still ‘common knowledge’ that you’re not supposed to think the Eagles are cool. If you’re over 35, you can maybe get away with listening to them and liking them (in your own car, with the windows rolled up… and maybe with the volume lowered a little when you pull up at an intersection just to make sure nobody outside overhears you). But you’re certainly not allowed to think they’re cool. Given the quality of their music, it’s essentially irrelevant whether they were ever cool. Theirs is a great, lasting body of song that should be heard.