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August 29, 2008
God Understands Irony, A Postscript
We're not claiming God's a Democrat, but it's clear She doesn't respond to Republican wingnut raindances.
First the Good Lord sent a tropical storm to bungle a meeting of global warming deniers in Florida. Then She conjured up Gustav to threaten to delay Bush's speech at the RNC.
Last night, God flat-out denied ex-pastor (and ex-meteorologist) Stuart Shepard's entreaties to rain on the Obama parade. In the Focus on the Family video clip shown below, the group's digital media director encouraged viewers to pray for rain during Obama's speech at the DNC. Not just "torrential rain," but "network-cameras-can't-see-the-podium rain, attendees-can't-walk-back-to-the-indoor-arena-without-wishing-for-hip-waders rain."
Watch the raindance here:
After the ensuing uproar, and being named "World's Worst Person" by Keith Olbermann, Shepard issued a video mea culpa and Focus on the Family took the original video down. What's next, RNC sunshine requests for McCain and Palin?
—Nichole Wong
August 28, 2008
Roundtable Review: Trouble the Water
A few days before Hurricane Katrina struck land in New Orleans three years ago Friday, 24-year-old rapper Kimberly Rivers Roberts bought a camcorder for $20 on the street. With her husband Scott, she started filming her neighbors—most of whom didn't have the means to leave—and their preparations to ride out the storm. She kept filming until the levees failed, even as the water rose and her friends sought safety in their attics. Two weeks later, Kim and Scott returned to document the destruction, and join some 20 friends in the back of a truck to begin the long trip to dry land. Kim and Scott's footage, along with archival materials including recovered recordings of 911 calls and video of inmates trapped in the Orleans Parish Prison, makes for a film that is at once journalistic and deeply personal.
Four MoJo staffers watched Trouble the Water Tuesday night and discussed it via Gchat Wednesday morning. Read the conversation here.
August 26, 2008
Hillary Clinton's Music Strikes a Minor Chord
While Senator Hillary Clinton's speech tonight at the Democratic National Convention in Denver struck an energetic, unifying tone, the music used in her tribute video and walk-on offered an interesting counterpoint. The video, narrated by Chelsea and played before her speech, kicked off brightly and energetically, with a couple of rock tracks that were considered edgy when they first came out but have since settled into the classic-rock pantheon. First we heard The Kinks' "You Really Got Me," which is based entirely around rising, pulsing major chords, in the upbeat "Louie Louie" style of the time. Then we segued into Lenny Kravitz' "Are You Gonna Go My Way," a track whose funky minor chords in the verses give way to celebratory major chords in the chorus. Next up, Tom Petty's "American Girl," whose chorus kicks off with major chords but then steps briefly into melancholy territory, with a few minor chords expressing a certain nostalgia.
Then the music stepped down another notch. Halfway through the video, the images were accompanied by a dramatic orchestral arrangement based almost entirely around minor keys, somewhere between CBS' "Cold Case" theme and The Killers' "Somebody Told Me." It was a surprisingly fierce choice for a moment that could have relied on cheesy balladry.
Finally, Hillary took the stage to a track she used often on the campaign trail (after that whole Celine Dion debacle): Big Head Todd and the Monsters' "Blue Sky." While its refrain of "we can change the world" couldn't be more optimistic, the chorus returns again and again to a minor chord that gives the song a tone that touches on regret as much as hope. The song has an odd resemblance to Graham Nash's "Chicago," another minor-chord tune which may bring up uneasy reminders of another fractious Democratic convention. Whatever the night's narrative, Hillary's musical metanarrative touched only briefly on celebratory chords, veering quickly into nostalgia and even daringly intense fervor before settling on a reflective minor-chord wistfulness. While the speech electrified the crowd, the music seemed to seep into the subconscious and ask, "What if?"
Did Facebook Just Endorse Obama?
This past weekend I finally decided to launch myself a Facebook page. I was going about my business setting up my profile, editing my information, importing pictures, re-editing my information, and so on until I was ready to begin inviting friends. So I found an old buddy, clicked "Add as Friend" and this popped up:
I didn't notice at first. But then I saw it... look again at the words I was required to enter.
"voted ican"
Usually we're just asked to type randomly capitalized jibberish, but here we have an incredible promotion of civic engagement. How responsible of Facebook. Thank you, Mark.
But wait—"ican"—that reminds me of something... Seriously, did Facebook just endorse Obama?
—Jesse Finfrock
Merge Records's 20-Year Anniversary Collections to Remind Us of the Greatness of Merge Records
If you look up "Indie Record Label" in the dictionary, does it have a picture of North Carolina's Merge Records' logo there? Yeah, I know, "what's a dictionary." The legendary imprint will celebrate its 20th anniversary this fall with a set of subscription-only specially-curated compilations, which, as Idolator put it, are guaranteed to open the wallets of nerds worldwide. The first CD will be curated by R.E.M.'s Peter Buck and Junebug director Phil Morrison, while celebs like Jonathan Lethem, David Byrne an Amy Poehler are lined up to take charge of future discs. You can start ordering them on September 8th, and they're limited editions, so set your alarms, my fellow nerds.
The label's 20-year existence is bookended by two bands who are symbolic of the "indie culture" of their time: Superchunk, whose music Merge was formed specifically to release, and Arcade Fire, whose two recent full-lengths were the label's greatest financial successes by far. But they've released a lot of other fine music in the interim. After the jump, some Merge-tastic videos from a few of my faves.
Superchunk – "Hyper Enough" (from Here's Where the Strings Come In, 1995)
Neutral Milk Hotel – "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea" (live) (from In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, 1998)
The Magnetic Fields – "All My Little Words" (amateur video) (from 69 Love Songs, 1999)
Lambchop – "Up with People" (from Nixon, 2000)
Arcade Fire – "No Cars Go" (from Neon Bible, 2007)
August 25, 2008
Mining for Gold
After more than two weeks of shot putting, somersaulting, sprinting, and spiking, the Beijing Olympics have come to a close. And for the first time in 72 years, the United States isn't standing atop the podium.
China has come away with the most gold medals, walloping the US 51-36. And while home countries often claim more victories in the year they host—Greece procured an impressive 16 medals in the 2004 Athens Olympics—few countries have seemed as driven as China and none have toppled the dominant USA in a quarter of a century. And the US is having trouble dealing with it. The UK edition of the Times Online noted that the United States is defying the traditional system by keeping tabs of the most overall medals instead of golds (The US scored 110 overalls to China's 100)—a move summed up in the headline "America Refuses to Accept Defeat in the Olympic Medal Count."
Most Americans will gauge this Olympics, as they always do (ok, maybe a little moreso this year), by its heroes: Michael Phelps with his record-breaking dominance and supportive single mother; Shawn Johnson and the Chinese coach who guided her to gold in his hometown. Don't forget your Michael Phelps gold medal tribute to remember! But fluffing Phelps' feathers aside, the medal tally matters. When billions of people around the world see that you're the top dog, it's an unbeatable global PR push.
After Beijing got the bid for the 2008 Olympics, it made it clear it was in it to win it. The August 4th Newsweek cover package asked, "What drives China?" The answer: a desire to overcome a global inferiority complex. When cities clamor to host the games, they do so in part because they know it will vault them onto the global stage.
And the time is now, they've noticed. A sagging economy, corrupt administration, and unpopular war have tarnished the US' once-shiny veneer. Meanwhile, countries like China are increasingly asserting their economic prowess in the industrial world. There's no doubt many will remember China's supreme performance in the 2008 Olympics. More importantly, many will remember that for the first time in a long time, America didn't come out on top.
—Nikki Gloudeman
August 23, 2008
Outside Lands: Slogging It, Part Two
An hour and a half after our streetcar adventure began, we made it to Golden Gate Park Friday evening with more than a half an hour to spare before Manu Chao took the stage at 6:15.
Making our way through the gates took another 45 minutes: We entered the park at 19th Avenue, the closest entrance to the box office and our passes, but the festival map did not label the intra-park streets, which snake around and break off into tributaries. I figured this was the organizers' way of testing our spatial-reasoning skills.
This thought was confirmed when, after we realized we had walked too far and turned around to backtrack, we saw signs labeled "media check-in" and "will call" with arrows pointing us in the right direction. The sign was hanging on a fence, facing away from anyone who entered the park at 19th Avenue.
We still had another few hundred yards to walk before we were in view of the Lands End stage, where Manu Chao had already started playing, so to save time I decided to skip it and head to the Sutro stage, where Beck would be playing at 6:40. The stage sat about 200 yards directly north of Lands End, but a long grove of trees clogged that gap, meaning anyone walking from one to the other had to schlep around it, turning a walk in the park into a commute.
When I arrived at Beck's stage, the sound check was almost done, so I decided to push my way through the crowd for a better view. But even from just outside the "VIP" area—a limited-access wedge of grass for people who paid a few hundred extra dollars to view every show from an "exclusive" location—I couldn't see much of the stage.
As soon as Beck took the stage an exploded into "E-Pro," the smell of pot and cigarettes began mixing with the aroma of mud and Heineken that had already been clogging my nostrils. Of course, this is part of the festival experience; I expect it whenever I attend any sort of outdoor concert. So it wasn't eau de Outside Lands that made me retreat toward the back. It was the stream festival-goers wedging their way through the tightly packed crowd to find a closer spot to see the show. One college-age guy attempted this while carrying a glass of red wine and a double cheeseburger; it did not end up well for his shirt.
But once I found a spot that let me breathe, I could focus on appreciating Beck's set, which he packed with songs from Modern Guilt, his latest. He sounded spot on, and upbeat songs like "Gamma Ray" and "Girl" meshed perfectly with the festival backdrop.
I left the Sutro stage area early to find a good spot for Radiohead's set, which began just as the sun had sunk below the trees behind the stage, giving it a halo of sunlight. I walked around for a while before finding a hill to the right of the stage where my view wasn't blocked, and as soon as I heard the hook-beat of "15 Step," their opening number, I forgot about all the slogging I had to do to get there. —Steve Aquino
My Outside Lands Experience: Worth the Fog and Trouble
First of all, not to rub it in to my streetcar-entrapped Mother Jones colleagues, but a motorcycle makes things a lot easier.
To those of you who aren't located within about a 10-mile radius of San Francisco, let me remind you of our unique meteorological situation. The California Current brings cold Pacific Ocean water south from Canada, while upwelling from the frigid, murky deep peaks during the summer months, making our ocean waters colder in June and July than they are in December. The summer sun heats the land in central California, causing high low surface pressure, and sucking the chilly, saturated air in from the sea and over SF. This creates the famous fog, which everyone thinks is so charming in pictures but actually feels like a soggy blizzard. It's my personal theory that the Bay Area's notorious political uniqueness is actually a symptom of meteorological alienation from the rest of America, frolicking in the summer sun while we huddle around our space heaters. Whatever else our shivery summer isolation causes, it makes an outdoor music festival in Golden Gate Park, out by the ocean where thick fog is almost inevitable, seem about as attractive as spending an evening under the vegetable sprayers in the supermarket.
Unfortunately, that's where production company Another Planet decided to stick Beck and Radiohead yesterday, and what are you going to do, not go? We bundled up and got ourselves out to the park, and trouble started immediately. Organizers seemed to be planning for a couple hundred people, not the 60,000 who eventually showed up, and claustrophobia-inducing bottlenecks were commonplace, even early in the afternoon. Lines for the few food and drink stands stretched as far as the eye could see (and I have no idea where my MoJo comrades found shrimp ceviche!), and Beck was set to play on a side stage, accessible only through a tiny, winding pathway through the trees. Because, you know, who likes that Beck guy, nobody. After standing in a stationary people-jam in this torture funnel for ten minutes, concert-goers started to rebel, and we witnessed the first of five examples of fence-trampling we would see over the course of the night.
Beck himself took the stage with a mellow nonchalance, remarking that he was glad somebody told him to wear a scarf. I gave Modern Guilt a tepid review last month, but interestingly, these new songs seemed to emerge from under the CD's muddy production and take on new life: "Gamma Ray"'s surf-y groove and the funky breakbeat of "Youthless" had the crowd dancing, although it was hits like "Loser" that got the "woos." Unfortunately it sounded like some of the airborne moisture got into his drum machine, as an 808-driven rendition of the 8-bit remix of "Hell Yes" came out horribly distorted. But when Beck stops being silly, he has a phenomenal voice, hitting the high notes with clear, bright tones, making ballads like "Lost Cause" or his soaring cover of the Korgis' "Everybody's Got to Learn Sometime" all the more enjoyable live. But while fence-crashers had by now created a new, wider pathway to the main stage area, we thought it prudent to get a move on to catch Radiohead's 8 p.m. start time.
We got settled in right next to glow-in-the-dark hula-hoop-wielding hippies just as the stage lit up to the sounds of "15 Step" from last year's universally-hailed In Rainbows. While we were miles from the stage, a set of video screens offered quirky closeups of the band members, filtered to match the colors of the stage lighting. Most impressive was a set of 72 vertical light strips which hung from the roof all the way down to the stage (with some stopping just above the band). They were both a minimalist art statement and a technological wonder, displaying random patterns and even barely-obscured text, and yet they evoked stately architecture like a cathedral or Superman's Fortress of Solitude. Somebody clearly took some cues from Daft Punk.
Unfortunately, something happened I've never experienced at a concert before: the PA cut completely out not once, but twice, plunging the audience into stunned silence as the band continued playing. I had a vision of the gay dude in Airplane grinning maniacally over an unplugged electrical cord, but who knows what the problem was.
It sounds like a recipe for misery: bitter, soggy cold, overcrowding, and hippies. But the band themselves were phenomenal. When it wasn't cutting out, the sound had a clarity I've rarely heard at large outdoor festivals. Every individual instrument seemed perfectly defined, even shakers or subtle effects. It served to illustrate the hard work this band must have done over the past year, developing a live show suitable for giant outdoor stages, despite the complexity of their new material. New songs like "All I Need" were hypnotic and delicate, and the thick reverb on Thom Yorke's falsetto in "Reckoner" gave the song a jaw-dropping impact. Classics like "Paranoid Android" became operatic in scope, perfectly executed and exquisitely balanced. The only technical issue surfaced during what must be an extraordinarily challenging version of "Idiotheque," during which the band forces drummer Phil Selway to join in with a blipping, syncopated drum machine, accompanied only by Yorke's voice. When it works, it's awe-inspiring, but when he's not quite in synch, it's immediately obvious.
I hate to use a cliché Olympic metaphor, but this is a band willing to attempt unheard-of levels of difficulty, and they usually pay off: songs feature complex time signatures, like "Android"'s 7/8 sections and "15 Step"'s 5/4 shuffle, and even standard 4/4 tracks like Amnesiac's "Pyramid Song" obscure the beat under strange rhythmic twists. Amusingly, they flubbed their simplest number, an acoustic "You and Whose Army," when the wrong guitar chord caused Yorke to collapse into embarrassed laughter. It was an endearing moment in a show so well-executed it was almost unreal.
Taking their cue from remixers, the band added a thumping beat to "Everything in Its Right Place" to close the show, and the light strips flashed the words in bright pink lines, moving across the stage like an optical illusion. "What was that you tried to say," sang Yorke, and multi-instrumentalist Jonny Greenwood digitally snatched a brief clip of his voice, winding it backwards and looping it, as the song climaxed in an extended instrumental outro. It was both sonically exciting and metaphorically intriguing, an instant recording of a live performance turned into an instrument in that performance: a band feeding off itself. The loops continued even as the band left the stage, mutating into a dreamlike wash of sound.
While some may criticize Radiohead as dour, whiny, and weird, they may be our only great band willing to look 2008 in the face: a reality of technological wonders and potential apocalypse, of environmental disaster and artistic beauty, of political terror and individual compassion. How strange, how wonderful, that 60,000 people will brave the arctic fog and panic-inducing crowds to listen.
Photos: Kristi Highum
Outside Lands: Slogging It
Our downtown offices at Mother Jones sit just a few miles from Golden Gate Park, the site of the Outside Lands fest, so to make sure we had a good spot for Manu Chao's set at 6, Brittney and I hopped on an outbound streetcar just after 4 yesterday afternoon.
After the train pulled away from Montgomery Street, we began talking about the bands we were excited to see: The Black Keys, Radiohead, Beck, Cold War Kids. It had been a long week at MoJo; our Military Bases project finally went live. We were looking forward to a relaxing night in the park.
And then approximately 12,639 tourists, hipsters, hippies, festival-goers, and unlucky commuters crammed themselves into to the train at the next stop. I guessed 12,634 of them were also on their way to Outside Lands. Suddenly, I became acutely acquainted with the aromatic heft of Old Spice deodorant under the arm of the guy who wedged in next to me to grab the pole over my head. Two women, probably on their way home, sitting in the seats just in front of me looked up at the crowd that had made the train a can of sardines; their faces wore Kurtz's horror.
So many people had squeezed in to the train the door wouldn't close, so the conductor politely informed the crowd not to lean on the bars that, when pressed, open the doors when the cars stop at street level. Ten stops and ten similar announcements later, he'd lost his patience: "DON'T LEAN ON THE BARS! THE BARS KEEP THE DOORS OPEN! GET OFF THE CAR! CAR TWO! I KNOW IT'S YOU, CAR TWO!" A girl at the back of the car put it even more bluntly: "Get off the f*cking bars! Get off the f*cking car!"
We were half way there.
—Steve Aquino
Outside Lands: Radiohead Makes History
Thirteen sets and two Natalie Portman-sightings later, the first night of San Francisco's Outside Lands festival wrapped up by 10 p.m.
While acts ranged from Cold War Kids to Manu Chao to Beck, the night had one consistent theme: confusion. You couldn't find a sign leading you to an entrance, but we found a stash of unused signs, including the much needed "Restrooms this way," stored in the crew area. And in lieu of "branded stages" companies sponsored interactive exhibits such as exclusive lounges that required a specific Visa card for admittance.
Yet efforts toward greening the event, the unique food selection (think shrimp ceviche), and a spectacular location helped us forget the organizational troubles. Not to mention talented visual artists decorated each stage. Plus, as the first group to ever play in Golden Gate Park at night, Radiohead's show was as visually stunning as the music was enthralling.
Despite some organizational glitches, the Outside Lands festival is off to a solid start.
—Brittney Andres
August 20, 2008
Murakami's Running Lags Behind
I can't tell you how excited I was to read Haruki Murakami's new memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. As a runner and admirer of Murakami's work, I raced to the bookstore in hopes of discovering thrilling personal connections between myself and the great novelist.
Unfortunately, what aspects I could relate to— the pain of training for a marathon; the feeling of running outside in the wet New England fall—were eclipsed by a parade of high-school-gym-class-style clichés ("Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional."). Even more disappointing was the pace and style of the book: The rambling trains of thought did not arrive at interesting destinations, and despite Murakami's claim to months of careful editing, the collection is about as organized and well thought out as your average LiveJournal entry.
And that's what this book seems to be—not a memoir or an essay collection so much as Murakami's personal blog, printed out and placed between two hard covers. And no matter who keeps them, personal blogs are ultimately records of the quotidian. Even giving Murakami the benefit of the doubt—perhaps his hackneyed phrases are much more beautiful in the original Japanese—the book cycles again and again through the kinds of small revelations that I have on every run. Running is hard. Running is like writing. These are not insignificant, but neither are they worth $21.
2008 Conventions: Who's Performing?
I'd love to attend the upcoming RNC and DNC, if nothing else just to watch the live music performances; and yes, this makes me a geek. Despite several lineup reports, when I called event planners today to confirm, my call to the DNC went straight to voice mail and folks at the RNC said to call back next week.
Until then, I'm going by a scattered reports from the interwebs:
DNC lineup: Punk band NOFX will allegedly play its album Punk In Drublic in its entirety, and the Mighty Mighty Bosstones (who knew they were still a band?), My Morning Jacket and the Black Keys are supposedly performing throughout the weekend. The Allman Brothers (keepin' it old school, I guess) are supposed to be closing the event.
Elsewhere in Denver the same week: Sounds like the real DNC action might be three miles across town at the Denver Coliseum, where Rage Against the Machine will team up with Iraq Veterans Against the War and Tent State University to perform at the "Tent State Music Festival to End the War." Also at coliseum will be the Flobots, The Coup, State Radio, and Wayne Kramer, who played during the riotous 1968 DNC in Chicago with MC5. I know where I'd be hanging out. As suspected, Dave Matthews Band and Bruce Springsteen may also be performing during the convention.
RNC lineup: On the hush-hush, or so they tell me. But I know folks like Jackson Browne and John Mellancamp will definitely not be showing up.
Elsewhere in Minneapolis the same week: Rage Against the Machine (again?) will perform at a Target center in Minneapolis for $60 a pop. Rage guitarist Tom Morello will also do some sideshows with country/guitar guy Steve Earle. Even Vieux Farka Toure will be in town, also.
How it stands up to 2004: Four years ago, country act Brooks & Dunn did their thing at the RNC in New York, along with rock band Dexter Freebish, gospel singer Donnie McClurkin, Christian singer Gracie Rosenburger, and country singer Darryl Worley.
Among many entertainers at the DNC in Boston four years ago, the Kwong Kow Chinese Drum Ensemble performed, as did Mavis Staples and Willie Nelson.
New TV on the Radio Picks Up Where Beck Left Off
New York combo TV on the Radio made my #2 album of 2006, so when I learned that a track from their upcoming album, Dear Science, was available to stream on their web site, I clicked over there as fast as my mouse could take me. First of all, what's the deal with indie rock bands and wedding announcement fonts? Are they trying to steal a little bit of Ellen DeGeneres' blog fire? Okay, just had to get that out of the way. The song, "Golden Age," is a little more accessible and straightforward than the angst-ridden material on Cookie Mountain; it's got a jaunty little beat and buzzy synths reminiscent of Beck's "Hell Yes," although unlike that song's focused, quirky minimalism, "Golden Age" builds and builds until the whole band is singing along with a crazy horn section. I'm having a bit of trouble making out the lyrics, although at one point Kyp appears to rhyme "natural disaster" with "ghetto blaster," which deserves an award in and of itself. Either way, this is at least my song of the month.
Dear Science is out September 23 on Interscope. After the jump, Beck's "Hell Yes" for comparison, and TV on the Radio's "Wolf Like Me" from 2006's Return to Cookie Mountain, just for fun.
Beck – "Hell Yes"
TV on the Radio - "Wolf Like Me"
August 19, 2008
Hooray: Rachel Maddow Gets Her Own MSNBC Show
Nothing against Dan Abrams. Air America host Rachel Maddow will be taking over Abrams' 9 p.m. slot on MSNBC effective, like, right away: Abrams will sign off Thursday and Maddow will kick off her show September 8. The move has long been rumored since everybody thought she was awesome, and Abrams will stick around in a general manager role. Everybody's happy!
After the jump: More praise for Maddow, and watch her take down Pat Buchanan.
Maddow debuted on Keith Olbermann's show on MSNBC only a few months ago, but quickly established herself as one of the smartest (and funniest) political voices on TV, representing progressive viewpoints with a calm demeanor and a wry smile. Plus, her bio says she "hates Coldplay." No way, me too, let's be friends! More importantly, she's one of the only talking heads willing to call out the more ridiculous crap coming from the right. Watch her take down Pat Buchanan a couple weeks ago:
Olbermann went on DailyKos to brag that he "had something to do with it" and to lament that she can't be his guest host any more. There's celebration in queer circles as well, as the openly lesbian Maddow has long been active in LGBT causes. Now if only CNN could get themselves a gay host…
Whut If Barack Wuz a Kitteh?
The lead-up to the convention just got a little weirder. Adorable, but weird. Check out Slate's video of "Pol Cats: The Treadmill." It's a "satire" of Hillary and Barack's political aspirations, as illustrated by two felines running on a treadmill. Hillary is a fluffy calico, and Barack is a black cat with tiny white socks. If we wanted to get literal, the Barack cat should be half-white, but hey, they're running on a freakin' treadmill. The video's not hilarious, but it's probably more entertaining (and infinitely cuter) than the slew of post-convention political commercials that's in our future.
(Image courtesy of lolcats4obama.com)
August 18, 2008
Your New Favorite Band: Glasvegas
Like with most things, I'm a little late to the party on this one. This Scottish quartet came in 4th in the BBC's "Sound of 2008" poll, and NME ranked the first version of their single "Daddy's Gone" as their #2 song of 2007. Well, Alan McGee was way ahead of everybody: the Creation Records svengali who discovered Oasis spotted them in 2006. But there's still time to get on board before the backlash!
If you're wondering, here's what they sound like to me: imagine the Jesus & Mary Chain got off the drugs (mostly) and did some songs with Billy Bragg. There's a homey, folksy, eternal quality to their music, but the fuzzy almost-rockabilly sound lines them right up with hipsters like The Raveonettes. But while those two live out their '50s cinematic fantasies in their lyrics, Glasvegas sing about what they know, with a brutal plainness that Hemingway might have admired. "Daddy's Gone" offers no resolution, just emotion: "To see your son on Saturdays/What way is that to live your life?" New single "Geraldine" floats in on a Brian Eno-style whisper of guitar noise, and the stadium-size chords are definitely reminiscent of U2. But lead singer James Allan has a thick Scottish brogue that seems to double the syllables: "My name is Geraldine, I-eem yee-er sow-cial woer-er-kerrr!" Now that, my friends, is an accent.
The band are planning a quick tour of the East Coast in September and October, and while they just signed to Columbia, apparently the debut album won't be out until 2009. Oh well. Watch some videos after the jump.
"Daddy's Gone"
"Geraldine" (live on Later with Jools Holland)
New AC/DC, G N' R Albums To Be Wal-Mart Exclusives?
Let me get this straight. The music industry is in crisis, as sales plummet and stores consider eliminating CD sections entirely. Artists with name recognition are exploring new avenues of distribution, bypassing the retail store entirely. So, say you're a beloved rock band with a highly-anticipated new album coming out. What do you do? How about you force your fans to jump through ridiculous hoops and go on a freakin' retail scavenger hunt just to track it down? Brilliant! And thus, AC/DC is requiring that anyone interested in their first new album in eight years, Black Ice, to get in the SUV and head out to Wal-Mart or Sam's Club to pick it up (starting October 20th, for $11.88). Not to be outdone, Guns n' Roses are in the midst of negotiations with either Wal-Mart or Best Buy for exclusive retail rights for the mythical Chinese Democracy. Ah, the music industry: answering complaints that its business model is inconvenient by making things more inconvenient. Well, just you wait; when I release my album, it will only be available on a ledge halfway up the side of K2.
New U2 Recorded By Some Guy Walking Past Bono's House?
This is silly. Yes, U2 is supposedly working on a new album, No Line on the Horizon, with a tentative release date later this fall. But check out this ridiculous story: apparently a "cheeky holidaymaker" was strolling past Bono's pad in the South of France and heard what sounded like new U2 songs blasting from the windows. Said pedestrian just happened to be carrying some sort of easily-accessible recording equipment with him, with which he taped the tracks, then raced home to post the recordings on YouTube. The fact that this has happened before makes it even less believable. I mean, how close can you even get to Bono's house before the laser robots get you?
However, the recordings themselves (listen at Vulture) are oddly compelling, as lo-fi as you can get, featuring the buzzing of insects, passing cars (or possibly waves on a beach) and far-off conversations. While Vulture hopes the noises won't make it to the actual album, there's something kind of compelling about them, muffled far-off tunes on what sounds like a lovely summer night. It kind of reminds me of the KLF's hypnotic Chill Out, a concept album meant to evoke a drive through Texas and Louisiana. Come to think of it, playing a bit of an artsy prank on the media by having your music "taped" from outside your house is kind of KLF's style, too. Has Bono been taken hostage by sheep-wielding million-pound-burning art terrorists? Enjoy a bit of Chill Out after the jump.
August 15, 2008
New (Leaked) Music: The Verve - Forth
People think I'm an arrogant jerk, but I really do try to be nice. Honestly. My friends go crazy for Coldplay, and I try to focus on Brian Eno's epic production; buddies want to watch Roger Waters for three hours, and I'm a good sport and hang around. But The Verve has caused perhaps insurmountable rifts between me and my hipster pals. They love The Verve, and I think that other than the inspired sampling on "Bitter Sweet Symphony," Richard Ashcroft and co are dull as doorknobs, whiny, plodding, a fine example of Britishness covering up lack of ingenuity. Like Sigur Ros, they're lumped in with a genre populated by good and great bands, but they just don't measure up. The Verve split in 1999 after Urban Hymns brought them worldwide fame, but recently have come back together for a few live shows. Forth is their first album together in ten years, which leaked onto the intertubes this week.
Unfortunately, the things that bothered me about the band have only become more pronounced over time. While the guitar work often has an attractive, Neil Young-style crunchiness, the songs seem to meander without first establishing a pattern, crossing the line separating "psychedelic" from "pointless jam." Ashcroft's vocal chords haven't aged well, and the innocent clarity that balanced "Bitter Sweet Symphony"'s pouty lyrics with a plaintive emotional straightforwardness has turned into a guttural mumble. On "Numbness," a six-plus minute song without a discernible chorus, Ashcroft's voice is almost laughably gravelly, as he repeats "numbness on the brain," over and over and over.
I've already remarked on the lyrical ridiculousness in evidence on Forth, and things get even lazier, like rhyming "before you have time to slip the chains loose," with "before you really really really really let loose." Loose, loose! I'm sorry, only Eminem gets to make rhymes with the same word.
On "I See Houses," there's a brief moment of melodic interest, as Ashcroft sings, "I get this feeling that I've been here before," reminiscent of the "I just can't make it alone" line from Urban Hymns' "Space and Time." But the rest of the chorus just wanders away, and I listened to it four times and still couldn't remember what he was saying afterwards. Included with the leak is a "bonus track" called "Chic Dub," and it's got some interesting reggae-style production, but even there, there's no song to begin with. Forth is that saddest of things, musicians making music with talent but without soul, spirit, passion, pep, vim, vigor, or, hmm, what's the word.
Forth is out on August 26 in the US on Megaforce/RED.
Poor McCain, Even Jackson Browne and Mike Myers Are Against Him
Can't somebody throw the guy a bone? John Mellencamp said "uh-uh," Chuck Berry said "sorry," even fellow politician John Hall (he wrote "Still the One") said "no dice." Only the Rich part of Big and Rich seems to care. Well, it turns out that the McCain campaign is just shooting the moon now, culturally speaking, throwing copyrighted material into their ads willy-nilly like a demented mash-up hooligan. I guess the Republican presidential nominee should take it as a compliment that people are still paying any attention, since a couple more artists have sued to make him stop. First up, Jackson Browne is none too happy about "Running on Empty" being used in ads for the senator, apparently without a license, filing suit against McCain and the Republican Party. A McCain campaign spokesman denied they had anything to do with it.
But they've got a bad track record: just a few days before, Mike Myers demanded the McCain campaign remove the "Wayne's World" clip from their "celebrity" anti-Obama ad. The campaign's Michael Goldfarb tried to make a joke out of it, blogging that "apparently, we are not, in fact, worthy." Ha, but overlooked is the fact that they put one of the most recognizable moments in Saturday Night Live history in a TV spot, and didn't think to call anybody? Could they possibly just be playing a cynical political game, breaking the rules intentionally just to get some coverage? Nah, they wouldn't do that. Well, hey, John, you kooky culture jammer, if you want to use some of my mashups in your commercials, you go right ahead. I'm sure the original artists whose rights I never bothered to get wouldn't mind…