It makes me happy to know that the band with the ironic name that I thought was only going to have one good EP, a s/t 2010 release on Jagjaguwar, that I would listen to until I got sick of it (like that ever happens) managed to get a full length album out this year. It makes me even happier that “Limits of Desire” is an album that is definitely worth writing about, and finds the band exploring their sound and different musical directions within that sound.
Though initially lumped in with other chillwave (thanks, Hipster Runoff, for giving us that genre label before falling into complete irrelevance, bro) artists like Washed Out and Neon Indian, they are moving closer to electronic music similar in style to Starfucker. From the opening synth of “Free at Dawn,” to when the vocals enter on that track, it becomes clear that this is going to be a cleaner album, bereft of the grit that permeated large swaths of their previous EP. So call them synthpop, or call them chillwave, or forget the label altogether and just listen.
What comes through, beyond all the labeling, are songs that reach for status as electronic anthems replete with drum machine beats that are mixed clear and clean, right up front. And there is a fine line between chillwave and soft-rock, however, and some of the album is a bit fuzzy on which side of the line it is on. Without the grit and graininess of the EP some of the edge is lost. This is most notable on “Canoe,” its layer upon layer of galactic synth sounds taking over the entire track. Thankfully these moments of soft-rock-bordering are balanced with some buzzier synths.
Before we make a hasty decision to file “Limits of Desire” alongside Destroyer’s smooth-jazz-tastic “Kaputt” it should be noted that the melodies within these songs are something worth remembering. Small Black doesn’t stop at texture and timbre without delivering on a whole lot more.
You can check out their video for “No Stranger” below, and head over to their official site for more. “Limits of Desire” was released May 14th and is available from Jagjaguwar.
I have a few different things that I’m working on right now that are going to take some more time to write than I have right now, but luckily I have an inbox full of music that I am trying to get through. I figure that now, toward the end of the year where new releases are getting fewer and farther between that I would do some housecleaning and share with you some of the very worthwhile stuff that I have been checking out.
First up is some heavy garage rock coming from our friends at Permanent Records in Chicago and L.A. The band is Basic Cable and the release is titled “I’m Good to Drive.” Officially released just two days ago “I’m good to drive” is the 39th release on Permanent Records’ own label. The track is a lot cleaner in production than other garagey offerings coming our way from the P-rex crew, but still delivers all the noise and reckless abandon that anyone could hope for. Take a listen to the track “Blonde Ambition” below.
Next up: what kind of a week would it be if Thee Oh Sees didn’t release something. The stream of non-stop ass-kickers continues with “What You Need (The Porch Boogie Thing),” reminding us that the band has released their 3rd singles collection, available now from Castle Face, there are still a few copies of the Pepto Pink vinyl left, as well as CDs. Listen to the track below, it’s exactly what you’d expect from Thee Oh Sees, and they are never ones to disappoint. Oh, and while you are over there at Castle Face, why not pick up a copy of the new White Fence Live in San Francisco recording, and I should add that I picked up the Fuzz EP live from the San Francisco Eagle, and that record (recorded direct to tape) sounds amazing. Guitar crunch and gut punching bass for days.
And now for something completely different. The Delay in the Universal Loop is from Benevento, Italy and they just released an album this past week entitled “Disarmonia.” The track below is “Spasmodica,” a song which starts off delicately enough, but takes a few twists and turns in the course of 4 minutes. The 17 year old Dylan Luliano is responsible for every aspect of the album, playing all the instruments, singing and writing all of the songs. More information and tons of links can be found here. “Disarmonia” is available worldwide right now. And you should maybe act fast because apparently there are an extremely (30?!) limited number of physical copies available. Head to the bandcamp page to check it out.
Enjoy those, and follow the links to some of the other stuff available from the Factum Est and Permanent Records soundcloud pages. Lots of worth stuff there.
Exotic Club’s dark dance music is an intoxicating mix of seemingly mismatched elements. “Alienation,” clearly visible against a dark night-time sky as backdrop. The album art is a perfect description the music contained within.
Well, it’s dance music for sure, while at the same time the effect of disassociation can not be overlooked. Exotic club uses the clean drum machine sounds and buzzing synths of a dance club, adding dark sounding, low and cavernously echoing vocals. When combined with the dancier elements the vocals seem to eschew the very aesthetic against which they are placed. The poppy, upbeat dance beats are not just countered, but downright denied. This is, as the title of the album states, no dance album. It’s dance music that is brooding and dark rather than the light, vapid instrumentals of the music that typifies a dance club. It’s dance music that’s run through an Interpol “Turn on the Bright Lights” filter.
I know that as I started to dig into this tape I found myself overcome with a sense of, maybe not anxiety, but more of a cautious and contemplative paranoia. Exotic Club has really found a direct line to some strange emotive places seldom explored. The desperately pleading vocals that come out of this dark texture, with lyrics such as “it’s Friday night, it’s Friday night, on the dance floor,” on “Lost in Music” that seem on the surface, reading them right there, like they are inviting and celebratory, but the delivery thwarts that interpretation in its droned repetition. The surface of the music, the danceable beats, drum machine hand claps, and buzzing synths paint a picture of a carefree night, while the lyrics and their delivery seem to simultaneously mock it. Ok, mock is a strong word, but listening to the track I think that the lyrics would be better translated as “it’s Friday night and you are supposed to be having a good time on the dance floor, so go have a good time because that is what it is that you are supposed to be doing.” Obviously, their lyric is better.
The robotic exactitude of the arrangement aids in the disassociation, by stripping away any human element, giving a deeper meaning to the coerced good time that the song is suggesting. Taking it out of the club is the track “American Zombies.” It uses the mechanical instrumental arrangement and dark atmosphere to comment on American consumer culture. “Runnin’ around in circles at the Walgreens, toothless smiles…,” listing off the automaton gestures that dominate the vast majority of American’s lives, and repeating each of these things line by line in a trancelike mantra, urging against deviation. Must consume. Must obey. “Forever, forever….forever….” as it is heard echoing into infinity at the conclusion of the track.
Melodies swirl and beats pulse, but don’t for one second take the music on Exotic Club’s “No Dance” as a given.
The tape, featuring a B-side full of remixes, is out now on Crash Symbols. Head over to their bandcamp to pick up a copy (only 100 made), or to download it if you aren’t into the whole physical media thing.
This is how it all started for me. When I bought my first Sonic Youth CDs from a friend at middle school that had way better taste in music than me and for some reason (I still have no idea why anyone would want to do this) but he didn’t want his Sonic Youth CDs anymore, or “Goo” and “Dirty” anyway. And even though I got both of those recordings at the same time I decided on listening to Dirty first,maybe because it was the most recent? Or maybe because I just liked the opening of “100%” the best. Not sure. Can’t remember. Not important. What is important is that I dubbed that thing to a side of a Maxell and played it incessantly.
I remember just being outside listening to the album on my walkman. I can’t remember exactly what I was doing, all I remember is that I was standing there. Just standing there in our backyard listening to “Dirty” on headphones. I listened to it walking to school, mowing the lawn, riding my bike aimlessly around our housing tract. At some point, knowing nothing about the band I remember thinking that they really could just do anything that they wanted. They didn’t sound like anything I had ever heard, and there was so many “mistakes” all over the place, there was so much displaced noise and feedback and just all these parts where I couldn’t tell what the hell was going on at all. Instead of dismissing it immediately, there was something about the sound of the album overall that kept me hooked. In my mind, from this point on, they could do no wrong (and how was I supposed to know that they were eventually going to release “New York City Ghosts and Flowers” or “A Thousand Leaves”?), they were the leaders, they knew better than anyone else. I didn’t know why I thought that (and I still don’t know what led me to think that) but I believed it.
The noisy opening of “100%” still sounds anthemic to me. It’s a really great way to open an album. The sound just explodes into existence like nothing else that they had ever done. Just think all the way back to “Confusion is Next” and “Bad Moon Rising” all the way up to “Goo,” none of their album openers were this immediate and attention getting. None of their album openers were, quite plainly, this loud. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time, but this may be, now that I think about it, the only album of theirs that opens so noisily.
And “Swimsuit Issue” and “Drunk Butterfly” featuring Kim Gordon’s jagged, forced vocals, might have been one of the first times that I had ever come to know a band that had more than one person taking on vocal duties. It would be several months at least before I realized that, in addition to Thurston, Lee actually sang some of the songs too. Not long after those realizations was noticing the different styles of each of their songs. Sure, “Teen Age Riot” is a different song entirely from “Hey Joni,” just like “100%” and “Wish Fulfillment” were completely different here.
Then there is the song “Nic Fit.” At the time that was my favorite. Of course, I couldn’t rewind the tape over and over to listen to the song. Not only was that a pain in the ass (not to mention I was impatient) but it would drain the battery when I could listen to the album a few more times instead. I would just have to wait for it to come around again. It still doesn’t sound like the same band to me. It’s clear to me now that part of the reason that that song sounds so different is that it was recorded live, and/or direct to tape. Something about that recording is just gritty, it sounds like it might have been done on a hand-held recorder. At the time I didn’t really think about those considerations as much as I just wanted to hear it because it was fast, sloppy and noisy. Listening to “Nic Fit” made me feel like I was listening to honest, old-school punk. The ending of that song, where it all collapses into slack-stringed destruction with Thurston intoning “tell nothing but the truth,” well that pretty much was just it for me.
I still think of “Dirty” fondly, though come to think of it I don’t really listen to it that much anymore. Lately (this week) I’ve been gravitating more toward the later stuff, particularly the SYR albums. But that is a discussion for another time. Looking back on “Dirty” I guess that I am glad that I came to know the band while they still had some youthful energy left in them. A few more great albums were ahead of them.
Julie’s Haircut is an Italian pysch band, though I’m really trying to think of a point of reference to clue you into the essence of their sound. There are elements of Stereolab in the synth work, but those are criss-crossed with more complex atmospherics, akin to Air’s output.
And that might be a good jumping off point. Julie’s Haircut is creating atmospheric, meditative psych-prog with songs that would fit nicely onto “Moon Safari” or some of the more kraut-rock inspired, motoric Stereolab tracks. I don’t think that those two things need to be mutually exclusive, and the pieces on “Ashram Equinox” explore the sound possibilities of mixing these two worlds to varying degrees. Where “Johin” is more of a driving force, with a persistent rhythmic backbone and droning harmony, “Taarna” is more melody driven, with buzzing and echoed synths casting long lines over top, finishing out with textless vocals, adding a rich complexity to the texture as the piece draws to a close.
I hear the album not only as an exploration of the atmospheric and the motoric, but also as an overall arch form where middle track, fittingly named “Equinox,” is nothing but mood, color and drones. But added to that mix is an unmistakable Eastern influence, imitating tabla and the tense sounds of an Oud, managing to evoke an entire landscape with only a few plucked notes.
The latter half of the album continues the trajectory of the first, the balancing act, with more moody instrumentals and driving rhythms. “Taotie” is the most active track on the album, perhaps calling to mind Kraftwerk’s “Tour De France,” while album closer “Han” uses silence effectively to create more space in the texture with a beautiful simplicity that seems to me to the best way to close an album. The relative silence and calm of “Han” focuses on one short repeated keyboard phrase, cycling around in minimalist contemplation.
“Ashram Equinox” was released on Crash Symbols on October 11th, and as such is currently available from their bandcamp page. The cassette is limited to 100 and are still available. Personally, the artwork goes so well with the album it is definitely worth the few dollars to get a physical copy of the album. In my opinion, it’s always nice to have something tangible anyway. Check out the album above and visit Julie’s Haircut’s site for more info and downloads. And be sure to check out the videos below that work as companion pieces to the album.
In 2010 Beach Fossils put out, in my opinion, one of the best albums of that year. That self-titled release paired well with Real Estate’s debut, combining to form a genre of breezy, sun-showered, effortless tunes. Actually, those albums came out at about the same time that Hipster Runoff coined the term “chillwave,” and at some point I thought these were the bands the new genre was created for. I think it would work either way.
“Clash the Truth” brings back the sound of the debut while adding a few nice touches. Thankfully the ringing, delayed guitar is back – obviously a key component to what it is that makes them Beach Fossils. Thankfully though it’s a little more under control this time around. I remember “Lazy Day,” on the 2010 release, where the guitar strings were made to ring so much that an overtone could be heard sounding over top of the rest of the mix, in an additive sound that was borderline ear piercing.
On this most recent release the guitars are cleaned up, and overall everything is fine-tuned. The addition of an acoustic guitar on “Sleep Apnea” adds something that we haven’t heard yet. Immediately following is “Careless,” taking a bit more of an energetic approach, pushing their sound to the edge of perhaps something bordering on new-wave nostalgia.
Speaking of which, so often I find myself coming back to that word with its relation to music: nostalgia. It seems like that is one of the most effective ways to create meaningful, emotionally relevant music. If a sound can tune into some sort of sense of familiarity then it’s already halfway to making a deeper connection. Boards of Canada accomplishes this through the vintage instruments, so does Neon Indian, Beach Fossils, to me, is a little bit more mysterious in how they are creating their familiarity. Maybe it’s the echo and reverb that drenches everything, or the breathy, extended legato melodic lines over top of jittering guitars and motoric drums. Imagine Joy Division, and now imagine that they were actually enjoyable to listen to and not dark and depressing, I think that is what “Clash the Truth” is.
There are a few devices that the band continually returns to, a few guitar fills that come back song after song, and even the melody line of the voice grows a little tired after a while, seeming to trace and re-trace the same path. It’s the explorations into new timbres that makes the album interesting. The distorted bass over top of brightly strummed steel string acoustic guitar, all while the bouncing delayed electric guitar continues to cast its light onto the entire texture of “Birthday” is what makes that song stand out. The same goes for the guest vocal appearance of Kazu Makino adding another layer of breathy whispers to “In Vertigo.”
It’s great that Beach Fossils was able to follow up their debut with just as solid an album as “Clash the Truth” is. Their really molding their sound, finding different ways to develop and explore their sound, changing just enough to make it noticeable, while not so much where it is a shocking departure. Now if they could just stop their habit of ending some of their songs on scale degree 2….
The album is available on vinyl or CD from Captured Tracks, and you can check out their soundcloud here.
On some levels it might seem like the easy way out, to record an album fully of acoustic guitar-based songs. It’s simpler, faster, maybe cheaper, at least that is what I think most people think. But, in actuality, it’s exactly the opposite. Recording such an album is pretty much the ballsiest thing that you can do. There is nothing to hide behind. Any mistakes made are going to shine through and be there forever. The stripped-down-ness of the entire affair, in actuality, complicates everything. Every aspect of a song needs to be given the same amount of thoughtful attention, because if anything is let to slip not only is that going to be noticeable but it’s going to drag down everything else in the mix.
By this point you can probably see what I’m getting at, and that thing is that Dim Peaks’ “Time of Joy” is, yes, a stripped down acoustic centric album that places all that it has to offer into a bright light, center stage. Before we even get to the lyrics we should talk in detail about just the sound of the album. The lone acoustic guitar is pushed way up front in the mix. No reverb, and no punching in (from what I can tell). The way that it’s recorded it’s possible to hear fingers against strings, strings against fretboard, sometimes a faint snapping of the lower strings as the thumb plucks out a bassline. And in the opening track “Rest Well” a piano adds a little lightness against the plucked strings and vocals.
“Rest Well” works perfectly as an album opener with its short and simple structure, terse lyric and gradual building up of the texture. Leading into “Control” and “Let the Bidding War Begin” introduces a few more instruments that periodically lay down some atmosphere to the background, again, shading the overall mood every so subtly.
Listening to the album I can’t help but be reminded of a few albums that I’ve spent some time with. The intimacy of the songs and the style of the guitar playing makes me think of Luke Roberts’ “The Iron Gates at Throop and Newport,” while sometimes the somber mood (for example on “Control” or “Slumberland”) reminds me of The Burning Hell’s “Happy Birthday” album. The occasional use of slide guitar, always a great addition when used properly, makes me think of Joel Plaskett’s solo debut “In Need of Medical Attention.” And I’m not saying that this album is derivative of those, not at all. What I am saying is that this album makes a great addition to those and I will forever link all of these releases in my mind.
The immediacy of recording an album that focuses primarily on intimate sounds is, I think, a huge advantage that this music has over so many others. What could get closer to harnessing the full affective powers of music? That is what all music is trying to accomplish after all. The rawness and realness of “Time of Joy” rings through in the title track. While the opening guitar line repeatedly traverses its infinitely descending melodic line one can hear guitarist/vocalist Niilo Smeds altering the dynamic of the lowest voice, with the tempo ever so slightly wavering before the entire band enters. It’s these tiny elements that make the songs sound so much more human, and again so much more affecting.
Each song is treated to its own individual arrangement. Instruments come in for one song never to be heard from again, which I think adds a personal touch to each track. Dim Peaks’ masterful uses of a fully fleshed out band in the title track contrasts with the equally thoughtful and efficient use of smaller forces in “Yellow Mountain.” This is not to mention the genre straddling that is going on throughout “Time of Joy.” Some songs lean a little bit heavier onto the folk elements, while others, like “New Orleans,” hint at a blues/country tradition, though they never stoop to using stock melodies and tricks. “New Orleans,” adding to the element of immediacy, sounds as though it’s being sung amongst a circle of friends and at any minute the entire crowd will bust out singing the chorus “I wish I was in New Orleans…” Meanwhile Niilo’s vocals are laid just as bare as the guitar across the album, and doesn’t falter one bit.
Take a listen to the songs that are up on soundcloud and bandcamp, as they are all very much worth it. “Time of Joy” was released earlier this year, in September through Gold Robot Records. Follow the links below for all the good stuff. The vinyl, by the way, is limited to only 500 copies, though the album is also available digitally.
The major label debut. Sonic Youth had followed the lead of Hüsker Dü by leaving the indie underground behind to sign with a major label. This deal with DGC paved the way for an explosion of new bands to become far more accessible than they had ever previously imagined. Of course that is a fight for another day, because some people defend Sonic Youth’s decision to take their show to the majors, while others still say that they had sold out. Thurston Moore tried to clear things up, after moving to Matador for the final phase in their career, saying that it was merely a matter of distribution. They wanted to reach more people, and with the internet thriving in the new millennium the band felt comfortable enough (and I’m sure it didn’t hurt that they were a household name by the time “The Eternal” came out anyway) to leave the major label behind and return to an independent like Matador.
All of that is beside the point. I think it’s more important that Sonic Youth managed to keep their artistic selves in tact during the transition. Sure, “Goo” certainly sounds more produced than any of their previous efforts, and some of the songs seem to be obvious attempts at mainstream radio-play. Ok, maybe not mainstream like Top 40, but “Dirty Boots,” and “Kool-Thing,” though classic SY tracks, sound very of the time. But with some of those attempts at commercial success they also had songs like “Tunic (Song for Karen),” “Cinderella’s Big Score,” and “Titanium Exposé” that are obvious products of the usual SY process.
The noise hadn’t disappeared by any means, for that we have “Mildred Pierce.” The same can be said for the overall atmosphere of the album, that brings back the general sinister darkness of, say, “Evol.”
I can’t help but wonder, listening back to the album now for probably the millionth time, if there was a certain part of them that was ironically recording some of these songs as wry commentaries on the corporate rock world overall. Hearing some of those “solos” come in, or the barrage of noise and interplay between Thurston and Lee that serve to stand in for the guitar solos, make me smile to myself. It’s as though they are commenting on the traditional rock song format, in the era of hair metal, by following it to a tee without straying from their original concept.
And they are geniuses for being able to do something like that. That ability to be adept, and thoroughly assured of their style allows them to only have to shade things ever so slightly in order to move between seemingly sarcastic social commentary to individualistic honesty. Just listen to the difference between the noise break down in “Dirty Boots” and that of “Tunic (Song for Karen).”
I also remember that when I was first listening to this album (“Goo” and “Dirty” were the first two Sonic Youth albums I ever owned. “Dirty” was the most recent release when I bought the CDs and two shirts off a friend of mine when I was in middle school) I had taped it from the CD and for some reason or another I had left “Mote” off the tape. I’m assuming it was something to do with that it’s the longest track on the album and I probably had “Dirty” on one side and “Goo” on the other. Anyway, the re-discovery (or maybe it was simply discovery) of “Mote” has etched into my mind that that is one of the best tracks on the album.
There really isn’t a bad track on the album, but it must have come as somewhat of a shock to people that were with them from the beginning. Thankfully the album isn’t so different that it sounds very “of the time.” This album has just as much of a timeless quality as each of those preceding. “Disappearer” captures that haunting beauty and ecstatic energy that really become a growing part of their overall aesthetic. For the first time in writing these entries about Sonic Youth I am finding it difficult to not just upload each of the tracks. I’m sure that the album can be found in full on youtube or spotify or whatever so you’ll just have to listen to the three that I decided on here. I figured I wouldn’t pick the obvious ones, but tracks that still manage to capture the overall sound of the album.
I feel like I am really lucky to have gotten into Sonic Youth at about this time. They still had several good albums in them after this, and to a certain extent this is where I start to feel as though I actually grew up listening to the band. Pretty significant, and rare, to be able to stick with a band from the time you are 13 to the time you are 32.
In the next part of this ongoing chronicle I’ll talk about “Dirty,” or the album that started it all for me, or the album that was my favorite thing ever for 2 years until “Experimental, Jet Set, Trash & No Star” came out.
To be honest, this album sort of slipped through the cracks for me. It was released in April, which was a pretty busy time for me as I was in the middle of a term, performing a lot and generally running around teaching and taking classes full time. During those super busy times I tend to fall into the rut of listening to old favorites on repeat forever (read: of Montreal, Lightning Bolt and Titus Andronicus).
The last CD that I ever bought, ever, was Phoenix’s “Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix” the day that it came out. I remember where I bought it, at the Eaton Center in Toronto. What I’m trying to say is that there was something about the PR machine that made a huge deal out of the release of that album, or maybe it was that I was somehow more exposed to it. I’m not sure. Or maybe it was that I had been listening to “It’s Never Been Like That” since 2006, thanks to my dealer. Either way, it was exciting that a band I had to explain to people who they were was now getting other people excited too.
And the style shift that happened between “It’s Never Been Like That” and “Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix” was pretty noticeable. A post-production sheen was added to each of the tracks. Something about the atmosphere that was created really lent itself to drudging up feelings of 80’s nostalgia. Though similar in some ways to chillwave music like Washed Out or Neon Indian, Phoenix’s music does not look to replicate nostalgia through the use of vintage synths and “lo-fi” recording techniques (note: I’m putting that term in quotes because I actually hate the term, but it carries the connotations that I am looking for, so it serves at least a purpose here). Phoenix is somehow able to get to the core of it and producing a nostalgic sound authentically.
I know that it seems like it would be the same thing, but the difference is that the aesthetic is pure, it’s not a post-modern re-consideration, or a look back at the music and re-imagining it with updated techniques. It involves working with specific melodic material that conjures up feelings of nostalgia, rather than simply letting timbre do all of the work.
Anyway, this is all starting to sound really vague, and I apologize, the fact of the matter is that I sadly didn’t give this album the attention that it deserved when it first came out and now I feel as though I am playing a bit of catch up. What I do remember about it, from the first time that I listened was that they really like to use the pentatonic scale right out in the open. The album starts with one, and it keeps popping up in the same descending fashion in the back of other tracks like “Drakkar Noir.” But that really isn’t the important thing to remember about the album, in fact it isn’t worth really remembering at all, it’s just the thing that I think about when I think about this album.
Phoenix is the kind of band that is capable of doing their sound incredibly well. That capability comes at a certain disadvantage though, because now they are getting dangerously close to pigeonholing themselves into creating cookie-cutter “Phoenix” tunes. Similar melodic fragments start to pop up here and there, similar syllabic constructions and accents of vocal lines start to become noticeable. They tend to relax into a midtempo, synth-pop groove and stay there for long stretches of time. The guitar has taken an increasingly more background role with the synths bearing most of the structural burden. Also, the songs “SOS IN Bel Air” and “Drakkar Noir” start off sounding remarkably similar. There are certain parts of the album that sound like the same ideas stitched together in different ways. This is all in addition to a lot of the build up in their songs seem to come from an idea that they had in “Countdown,” or “Girlfriend” back on their “Wolfgang…” album.
Though I don’t think that this is my favorite Phoenix album, it is their most solid effort to date. It doesn’t have the rhythmic drive and the raw edge of “It’s Never Been Like That,” but then again they are almost a completely different band now. Their sound has made drastic changes in the past 7 years. “Bankrupt” is even a big shift in direction from “Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix,” but this is the sound that has really propelled them into being the headlining act that they are today. To be honest, 2000s “United” is one of the most scattered and disorganized albums I’ve heard. That one seems to be exploding in every direction in a desperate search for a sound with which the band can be comfortable. To that end it seems like “Bankrupt” signals their arrival at a sound. I can be more fond of “It’s Never Been Like That,” but in reality this most recent effort is more focused and stolid.
It’s really difficult to deny that the thick, buzzing low end synth isn’t a really great addition to their sound. And the ethereal and dreamy sound that shifts them squarely into synth-pop territory casts a hazy familiarity to each of the tracks on “Bankrupt.” Hopefully the next release will take this fully formed sound and develop it, before the band starts to run out of tricks. All in all “Bankrupt” is a good album, and deserving of a spot on anyone’s year end list, but we’ll have to wait and see where their next release takes them. Hopefully some time out of the studio and off the road will allow them the opportunity to come up with some fresh ideas. It would be really exciting to hear Phoenix go off in a completely other direction following the synth-pop 1-2 punch of “Wolfgang…” and “Bankrupt.”
The band recently did a Take Away Show for La Blogothéque that finds them performing on a chartered jet. You can watch that video below.
Unfortunately for The Strokes, it seems as though they are never going to be able to catch a break again. I don’t so much blame them, or the music that they have been making since2000’s “Is This It?,” as I do journalism’s tendency toward histrionics when it comes to “the next big thing.”
The early 2000’s, as I’m sure you don’t need any reminding about, found the cycle of criticism once again looking for something that would be able to stand in opposition to the usual pop nonsense that captures the attention of the masses in general. I think that the first time in my lifetime that it happened was when every band in Seattle in the early 1990s was positioned to save “us” all from whatever nonsense that was on the radio at the time. The irony of this, of course, is that the artist that is put up as the answer to our prayers, to save us from top 40 pablum, become exactly the thing that they were to be standing up against. This is due, of course, to the industry’s willingness to milk an idea dry and only abandon it after absolute and total over-saturation. The worlds part, the pap is relegated back to its placeholder position while the industry figures out another trend that is going to shift focus temporarily. And the cycle continues.
The Strokes didn’t ask to be some sort of saviors of rock music, or indie music, or anything. Why would they? Being foisted into the spotlight instantly as the “chosen ones” only hurt them then, and it’s continuing to hurt them now. Thanks to the incessant press that their first album received, sure they got a lot of exposure, but the backlash was almost instantaneous. People fought over the legitimacy of the band because Casablancas comes from money. Thus began the “trust fund hipster” argument that sought to rip credibility from the band. Nevermind that such a claim has nothing to do with the music. At the same time that this battle was raging on the “indie” side the fanbase for the band became a mix of indie-rock fans and misguided tweens that fostered crushes on the disheveled badboys of rock. Notice how neither of these sides have the music as their first concern.
It always happens in groups. This time in particular, in the early 2000s it was The Strokes, The Hives, The Vines and The White Stripes. The White Stripes, now disbanded, were able to weather the storm due to their having 2 albums prior to “White Blood Cells,” their most current album when everything went down. In fact, they weathered the storm so well that they only rose to greater heights, gaining critical acclaim for every subsequent effort, and now have an air of royalty surrounding them that they went out on top. The Hives only had one previous album out, and though they are still around creating albums, their sound is completely dependent upon aping The Clash’s riffs and The Rolling Stones’ swagger. The Vines were even less experienced, and only had one song that even did anything. That song wasn’t even that good, it was a catchy chorus with a wild and unpredictable frontman at the helm. I think people were a.) slightly excited that he sounded in some way like Kurt Cobain (how long before people stop “looking” for Kurt Cobain. There was a Kurt Cobain, and now there is not a Kurt Cobain. It’s not that hard to understand) and b.) waiting to see if the group would actually be able to get through a song.
The Strokes were the least experienced of the bunch, yet the criticism machine at large decided that they would be the poster children. They also had the most original sound of any of the bands in that group. In that way The Strokes started at the highest point that a band could possibly ever even hope to attain. Without even having really done anything other than making a thoroughly great debut album, they were hailed as the reigning champions of rock. They weren’t even given a chance to prove themselves, and they didn’t have to.
How could they possibly be expected to thrive in that environment?
Now, 4 albums later, “Comedown Machine” was released and forgotten nearly just as quickly. The reason that it was forgotten is not because it is a bad album. It’s not a bad album. At all, by any stretch. It’s just that everyone, unfortunately, is always going to be comparing everything that the band does to how they felt when “Is This It?” was released. The fact of the matter remains that The Strokes have been a remarkably consistent band. That isn’t to say that they have been resting on their success, churning out the same album every few years. They haven’t been doing that. Their consistency exists in that they have continued to release worthwhile albums while retaining their original sound, finding the opportunity to branch out whenever possible.
“Comedown Machine” has some amazing moments. For example, the downtempo “50 50,” with it’s delicate, palm-muted guitar and Casablancas’ falsetto soaring into the stratosphere. The jerky glitch of “One Way Trigger.” The impossibly catchy melodies in so many of the choruses across the album. For any other band, this would be a triumph. Unfortunately The Strokes live in the shadow of The Strokes and nothing short of Sgt. Pepper would be good enough to garner them the attention that they once received without having to even do anything.
Maybe The Strokes weren’t the saviors of rock after all. Nobody was. And nobody is. The Strokes are just a band. And, as listeners, that should be all that we concern ourselves with.
