Christmas Disk - Elvis Manson
Remember a few reviews ago when I wrote about probable bias in some of my reviews? This one and the several that come after are the crown jewel of probable bias in my CD collection. Not only are they by my own father (Elvis Manson is his stage name), but this particular CD contains contributions from every member of my immediate family (and the kid next door) and one track features my own prepubescent speaking voice throughout. I’m pretty sure that would disqualify me from reviewing this album if I were a real reviewer. But I’m not.
This was my father’s first CD (although he’d recorded cassette tapes for years before then), made in the mid-90s. As the name certainly indicates, this is a Christmas album, and contains some of the most recognizable carols and songs performed in a straightforward fashion, notably Do You Hear What I Hear and Cantique de Noel (better known as Oh Holy Night). O Magnum Mysterium might not be as universally known but opens the album very nicely with its churchy, Latin vibe.
Most of the music here is either entirely original or given some unique spin by my father’s rather idiosyncratic sense of humor. Silent Night Shift intersperses bland synthesized carols with P.A. announcements like you’d hear occasionally interrupting the piped-in music in the grocery store (“Housekeeping, aisle 12, broken ketchup”). Visa or Mastercard more directly addresses the connection between Christmas and shopping by replacing the lyrics of “Carol of the Bells” with ones parodic of consumerism: “Cash registers / hear how they ring / stockholders say / profit is king.”
Other songs are neither reverent nor sarcastic, but simply fun, like The Snowball Fight and Skaters, instrumentals meant to represent winter sports in musical form, with Reindeer Ride similarly treating us to a more fantastical form of recreation. Malcolm Xmas retells the nativity story in the form of a rap. Ding Dong Packle Bell takes the Pachelbel cannon and soups it up a bit. Looking at the track listing now, it occurs to me that there’s a mixture of reverence, lightheartedness, and self-aware parody that seems to echo the reactions I see to the holiday season in general. Is this intentional? Maybe.
Track 13, called The Last of the 3 Spirits, is perhaps my least favorite track on the whole album. This is the one that features my own voice, calmly reading passages from Dickens’ A Christmas Carol while my father’s ghostly instrumental stylings illustrate the story in the background. The reason I don’t like it is very simple: it was an early experience with hearing my own voice on record, and as is often the case I found it disappointing. Plus I can just hear every little vocal stumple and foible, despite the many, many takes I remember enduring. But I was just a kid at the time. Nowadays, I can almost forgive my father for putting me on his CD.
Keep my bias in mind here, but if I had to rate this CD, I’d say it’s well worth checking out if you have any ability to. (It’s probably not available for sale anymore.) Despite its humble origins in a suburban attic, the recording is clean and polished, and the writing on the original songs is very clever and creative. Just feel free to skip track 13.
Next: Dishcover the Riddle
Monday, June 29, 2015
Friday, June 26, 2015
All My CDs, pt 72: Hybrid Theory
Hybrid Theory – Linkin Park
A few years after I got Meteora, I got into my head that I should own more albums by some of the artists in my collection, to deepen rather than broaden my collection (I continue to have weird ideas about how my musical experience can be improved, this review project being the latest). Linkin Park was on the list of artists I only had one album by, so I found another and bought it.
I can’t say this one stands out much. In a lot of ways it seems like more of the same, although I must recognize that Hybrid Theory came out first, so it really was Meteora that was more of the same. But after a while the angry lyrics just start to sound whiney, and there is only so much that the synthesized rhythms can dress up an overused theme. It’s not Hybrid Theory’s fault; there are many things I like about it.
Some songs explore the theme of emotional abuse and its aftereffects in ways that Meteora may have neglected. Papercut focuses on the insecurity and lack of self-confidence that may result from constant undue criticism:
Like a face that I hold inside
A face that awakes when I close my eyes
A face that watches every time I lie
A face that laughs every time I fall
With You shows the inescapability of such a relationship:
It’s true the way I feel
was promised by your face
The sound of your voice
even if you’re not with me
I’m with you
A Place for My Head finally describes the need to escape, somehow:
You try to take the best of me
Go away
I want to be in another place
I hate when you say you don't understand
I want to be in the energy, not with the enemy
A place for my head
That particular song also led me to an interesting revelation: there are music fans who enjoy having a singer scream “Go away!” repeatedly into their ears as part of a song. And apparently, I am a part of that group.
Crawling is possibly the catchiest and most beautiful song on the album, and one I remembered hearing on the radio throughout my adolescence. To this day I might describe it as the quintessential Linkin Park song. All the elements of their music that I enjoy most are present there: the memorable synthesizer riff that starts it off. Vocals that waver with emotion without ever plunging fully out of control. Lyrics full of compelling metaphors linking mental anguish to physical sensations (Crawling in my skin / these wounds, they will not heal).
In this case, it’s not a very big deal that this album isn’t especially distinguishable from Meteora. Both albums are so short that they both fit on an 80-minute CD, and both can be listened to one after another without a great investment of time. So I can, if necessary, just treat them as a single album.
Next: Christmas Disk
A few years after I got Meteora, I got into my head that I should own more albums by some of the artists in my collection, to deepen rather than broaden my collection (I continue to have weird ideas about how my musical experience can be improved, this review project being the latest). Linkin Park was on the list of artists I only had one album by, so I found another and bought it.
I can’t say this one stands out much. In a lot of ways it seems like more of the same, although I must recognize that Hybrid Theory came out first, so it really was Meteora that was more of the same. But after a while the angry lyrics just start to sound whiney, and there is only so much that the synthesized rhythms can dress up an overused theme. It’s not Hybrid Theory’s fault; there are many things I like about it.
Some songs explore the theme of emotional abuse and its aftereffects in ways that Meteora may have neglected. Papercut focuses on the insecurity and lack of self-confidence that may result from constant undue criticism:
Like a face that I hold inside
A face that awakes when I close my eyes
A face that watches every time I lie
A face that laughs every time I fall
With You shows the inescapability of such a relationship:
It’s true the way I feel
was promised by your face
The sound of your voice
even if you’re not with me
I’m with you
A Place for My Head finally describes the need to escape, somehow:
You try to take the best of me
Go away
I want to be in another place
I hate when you say you don't understand
I want to be in the energy, not with the enemy
A place for my head
That particular song also led me to an interesting revelation: there are music fans who enjoy having a singer scream “Go away!” repeatedly into their ears as part of a song. And apparently, I am a part of that group.
Crawling is possibly the catchiest and most beautiful song on the album, and one I remembered hearing on the radio throughout my adolescence. To this day I might describe it as the quintessential Linkin Park song. All the elements of their music that I enjoy most are present there: the memorable synthesizer riff that starts it off. Vocals that waver with emotion without ever plunging fully out of control. Lyrics full of compelling metaphors linking mental anguish to physical sensations (Crawling in my skin / these wounds, they will not heal).
In this case, it’s not a very big deal that this album isn’t especially distinguishable from Meteora. Both albums are so short that they both fit on an 80-minute CD, and both can be listened to one after another without a great investment of time. So I can, if necessary, just treat them as a single album.
Next: Christmas Disk
Monday, June 22, 2015
All My CDs, pt 71: Meteora
Meteora - Linkin Park
On my 16th birthday one of my friends gave me this CD, purely because I had asked for it. I listened to it obsessively for a good many weeks. After that it mostly faded from my interest, until now. I pulled it out, put it on, and was pulled a decade back in time.
Like Evanescence, I mostly enjoyed Linkin Park for giving a musical voice to my depression and general teenage angst. Unlike Evanescence, I never had a chance to appreciate Linkin Park as an adult (or perhaps I just grew out of it.) Either way, it’s been hard for me to connect with this music as I did then, and part of me has reacted with a touch of shame that I ever felt so moved by its somewhat immature and simplistic lyrics. Songs that once rang so true in my heart are now cacophonously disingenuous, even to the point of delusion. Take Breaking the Habit, a song which once struck me as so profound that I briefly attempted to model my life after its words:
"I'll write it on the walls
'Cause I'm the one at fault
...
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright
So I'm breaking the habit tonight"
See, I listened to these words and concluded that there was something wrong with me, that I was the source of all the conflict and discontentment in my life. That line, “I’ll never be alright,” is so typically adolescent and so typically delusional that it brings the whole song down in my opinion.
What hasn’t changed is that the music is quite enjoyable in spite of the words. Adventurous use of synthesized rhythms with a metalish edge keep the music driving forward; this is music constantly in motion, that never takes a break. The vocals are just screamy enough to communicate anguish and anger without being too hard on the ears for those who shy away from heavier metal.
Unlike Evanescence, and in spite of the above example, this album is mostly about anger focused outward, at some vilified other. Many of the lyrics are in second-person, ripping to shreds some unnamed “you” in return for selfishness, neglect, abuse, and ultimate responsibility for the speaker’s own terrible emotional scars. What I know about psychology and the effects of abuse and trauma on people’s long-term mental health is vividly explored in each of these songs. From Somewhere I Belong:
I want to heal
I want to feel
what I thought was never real
I want to let go of the pain I’ve held so long
From Lying from You:
I wanna be pushed aside so let me go
Let me take back my life
I’d rather be all alone
Anywhere on my own cause I can see
The very worst part of you is me
From Numb:
All I want to do
is be more like me
and be less like you
In the end, what I encountered in examining this album from an adult perspective is compassion. Not for the endlessly victimized persona of the narrator, but for the vilified other. Not because she is blameless, or falsely accused of all the harm and wreckage, but because so many villains begin as victims. Brief windows of empathy open up:
And I know
I may end up failing too
but I know
you were just like me
with someone disappointed in you
And through those windows the healing light can come through.
Next: Hybrid Theory
On my 16th birthday one of my friends gave me this CD, purely because I had asked for it. I listened to it obsessively for a good many weeks. After that it mostly faded from my interest, until now. I pulled it out, put it on, and was pulled a decade back in time.
Like Evanescence, I mostly enjoyed Linkin Park for giving a musical voice to my depression and general teenage angst. Unlike Evanescence, I never had a chance to appreciate Linkin Park as an adult (or perhaps I just grew out of it.) Either way, it’s been hard for me to connect with this music as I did then, and part of me has reacted with a touch of shame that I ever felt so moved by its somewhat immature and simplistic lyrics. Songs that once rang so true in my heart are now cacophonously disingenuous, even to the point of delusion. Take Breaking the Habit, a song which once struck me as so profound that I briefly attempted to model my life after its words:
"I'll write it on the walls
'Cause I'm the one at fault
...
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright
So I'm breaking the habit tonight"
See, I listened to these words and concluded that there was something wrong with me, that I was the source of all the conflict and discontentment in my life. That line, “I’ll never be alright,” is so typically adolescent and so typically delusional that it brings the whole song down in my opinion.
What hasn’t changed is that the music is quite enjoyable in spite of the words. Adventurous use of synthesized rhythms with a metalish edge keep the music driving forward; this is music constantly in motion, that never takes a break. The vocals are just screamy enough to communicate anguish and anger without being too hard on the ears for those who shy away from heavier metal.
Unlike Evanescence, and in spite of the above example, this album is mostly about anger focused outward, at some vilified other. Many of the lyrics are in second-person, ripping to shreds some unnamed “you” in return for selfishness, neglect, abuse, and ultimate responsibility for the speaker’s own terrible emotional scars. What I know about psychology and the effects of abuse and trauma on people’s long-term mental health is vividly explored in each of these songs. From Somewhere I Belong:
I want to heal
I want to feel
what I thought was never real
I want to let go of the pain I’ve held so long
From Lying from You:
I wanna be pushed aside so let me go
Let me take back my life
I’d rather be all alone
Anywhere on my own cause I can see
The very worst part of you is me
From Numb:
All I want to do
is be more like me
and be less like you
In the end, what I encountered in examining this album from an adult perspective is compassion. Not for the endlessly victimized persona of the narrator, but for the vilified other. Not because she is blameless, or falsely accused of all the harm and wreckage, but because so many villains begin as victims. Brief windows of empathy open up:
And I know
I may end up failing too
but I know
you were just like me
with someone disappointed in you
And through those windows the healing light can come through.
Next: Hybrid Theory
Thursday, June 18, 2015
All My CDs, pt 70: The Legend of Zelda 25th Anniversary Special Orchestra CD
The Legend of Zelda 25th Anniversary Special Orchestra CD
I cannot claim to be the gamer geek this CD might imply. I have only ever played one game in the Zelda series, Skyward Sword, and it came packaged with this symphonic orchestration. I can count other console games I've enjoyed on one hand. (Mirror's Edge, Portal, Portal 2, and Katamari Damacy, in case you wondered.)
I never actually listened to the thing until I was preparing to start this review. I'm rather surprised and a bit ashamed at how often that has been the case during this project, yet it's nice to be able to discover new things even while focusing on what I already have. There may be a lesson here about consumerism and our addiction to novelty, but I'll save that blog for another day.
For an orchestration adapted entirely from video game background music, I was pleased to find that it's not very soundtracky at all - that is, all of it is interesting to listen to on its own. Although it's easy to imagine a fantasy action-adventure playing out under each movement, it's clear that this particular arrangement is meant to stand alone, and that is very appealing.
It probably helps that the Legend of Zelda series of games has been long enough to generate an abundance of memorable themes and melodies, from the stirring theme of the first game to Skyward Sword's lilting and delicate "Ballad of the Goddess" as played on harp. The games are notoriously broad-ranging and versatile, with story elements touching on as many themes and moods as any well-established high fantasy saga; themes such as the struggle of good against evil, the rekindling of hope after despair, the bustling of vibrant communities, and reverent encounters with the divine. The music that accompanies each level of each game is specially crafted to inspire those feelings, and likewise there’s a lot going on in this CD.
At times during this symphony it almost seems like they went overboard trying to incorporate all these disparate snatches of music into a relatively cohesive whole. It's almost *too* diverse. But I'm inclined to like it anyway. If you’re into grand, fantasy-inspired orchestral music, regardless of your attitude toward gaming or the Zelda series, consider giving this a listen.
Next: Meteora
I cannot claim to be the gamer geek this CD might imply. I have only ever played one game in the Zelda series, Skyward Sword, and it came packaged with this symphonic orchestration. I can count other console games I've enjoyed on one hand. (Mirror's Edge, Portal, Portal 2, and Katamari Damacy, in case you wondered.)
I never actually listened to the thing until I was preparing to start this review. I'm rather surprised and a bit ashamed at how often that has been the case during this project, yet it's nice to be able to discover new things even while focusing on what I already have. There may be a lesson here about consumerism and our addiction to novelty, but I'll save that blog for another day.
For an orchestration adapted entirely from video game background music, I was pleased to find that it's not very soundtracky at all - that is, all of it is interesting to listen to on its own. Although it's easy to imagine a fantasy action-adventure playing out under each movement, it's clear that this particular arrangement is meant to stand alone, and that is very appealing.
It probably helps that the Legend of Zelda series of games has been long enough to generate an abundance of memorable themes and melodies, from the stirring theme of the first game to Skyward Sword's lilting and delicate "Ballad of the Goddess" as played on harp. The games are notoriously broad-ranging and versatile, with story elements touching on as many themes and moods as any well-established high fantasy saga; themes such as the struggle of good against evil, the rekindling of hope after despair, the bustling of vibrant communities, and reverent encounters with the divine. The music that accompanies each level of each game is specially crafted to inspire those feelings, and likewise there’s a lot going on in this CD.
At times during this symphony it almost seems like they went overboard trying to incorporate all these disparate snatches of music into a relatively cohesive whole. It's almost *too* diverse. But I'm inclined to like it anyway. If you’re into grand, fantasy-inspired orchestral music, regardless of your attitude toward gaming or the Zelda series, consider giving this a listen.
Next: Meteora
Monday, June 15, 2015
All My CDs, pt 69 - Volume One
Here's a review that is very likely to be biased, and it will not be the last. Actually, I am biased in all of these reviews, since with few exceptions they are albums I chose to keep in my collection, which probably makes my reviews significantly more positive than if I were a real music reviewer who knew what she was doing. But some of these are albums I own because I have some connection to the musician, which makes the bias especially pronounced.
However, I have good reason to believe that there's some truth to my bias in this case. So, add salt to taste.
Volume One - The Lakewood Project
The Lakewood Project is Lakewood High School's rock orchestra. It started around the time I started attending the school, and although it has the support and funding of the school district and music program, my understanding is that it mostly exists due to the initiative and enthusiasm of the students who founded it, practicing on their own time and without class credit, arranging most of the pieces themselves. As a rock orchestra, they merge the genres of classical and rock, thus setting themselves apart from both and spawning a new and refreshing creature. Half their songs are rock hits retooled for orchestral instruments, and the other half are well-known classical pieces played with a more contemporary style. Their lineup features an acoustic string section, a cadre of electric violins and cellos, a few electric guitars, synthesizer and a drum kit. The effect is quite stunning to see.
This is one of a few CDs they have recorded, although I know them mostly from the free annual concerts they play at the local Independence Day celebrations.
My salient impression is that the Lakewood Project is much more enjoyable when heard live, preferably in the open air at Lakewood Park. But the CD provides a great reminder of that experience, and probably a fair introduction for those who might not understand just what a rock orchestra is.
My favorite track at the moment is a jazzy rendition of the iconic first movement of Beethoven's Fifth. I am not sure how much of its appeal is due to the humor invoked by the juxtaposition of the highly-recognizable string refrain with swinging beats and a synthesizer solo. I do know that I enjoyed listening to it long after that particular novelty wore off.
The CD contains several other recognizable classical mainstays, from Mozart to Tchaikovsky, along with a wide variety of popular rock songs. It opens with The Who's Who Are You, played rather straightforwardly with vocals replaced by strings (surprisingly preserving much of the emotive expression in the original version).
I found other rock songs on the album less compelling, such as Sounds of Silence and Let it Be, which I feel lose much of their impact without their poetic lyrics. But even these fare quite well in adaptation, due to the emotive potency of bowed strings.
I don't listen to this CD very often, since I have frequent opportunities to hear the ensemble perform live. But I'm glad to own it anyway and have this opportunity to revisit some of those performances.
Next: The Legend of Zelda 25th Anniversary Special Orchestra CD
However, I have good reason to believe that there's some truth to my bias in this case. So, add salt to taste.
Volume One - The Lakewood Project
The Lakewood Project is Lakewood High School's rock orchestra. It started around the time I started attending the school, and although it has the support and funding of the school district and music program, my understanding is that it mostly exists due to the initiative and enthusiasm of the students who founded it, practicing on their own time and without class credit, arranging most of the pieces themselves. As a rock orchestra, they merge the genres of classical and rock, thus setting themselves apart from both and spawning a new and refreshing creature. Half their songs are rock hits retooled for orchestral instruments, and the other half are well-known classical pieces played with a more contemporary style. Their lineup features an acoustic string section, a cadre of electric violins and cellos, a few electric guitars, synthesizer and a drum kit. The effect is quite stunning to see.
This is one of a few CDs they have recorded, although I know them mostly from the free annual concerts they play at the local Independence Day celebrations.
My salient impression is that the Lakewood Project is much more enjoyable when heard live, preferably in the open air at Lakewood Park. But the CD provides a great reminder of that experience, and probably a fair introduction for those who might not understand just what a rock orchestra is.
My favorite track at the moment is a jazzy rendition of the iconic first movement of Beethoven's Fifth. I am not sure how much of its appeal is due to the humor invoked by the juxtaposition of the highly-recognizable string refrain with swinging beats and a synthesizer solo. I do know that I enjoyed listening to it long after that particular novelty wore off.
The CD contains several other recognizable classical mainstays, from Mozart to Tchaikovsky, along with a wide variety of popular rock songs. It opens with The Who's Who Are You, played rather straightforwardly with vocals replaced by strings (surprisingly preserving much of the emotive expression in the original version).
I found other rock songs on the album less compelling, such as Sounds of Silence and Let it Be, which I feel lose much of their impact without their poetic lyrics. But even these fare quite well in adaptation, due to the emotive potency of bowed strings.
I don't listen to this CD very often, since I have frequent opportunities to hear the ensemble perform live. But I'm glad to own it anyway and have this opportunity to revisit some of those performances.
Next: The Legend of Zelda 25th Anniversary Special Orchestra CD
Thursday, June 11, 2015
All My CDs, pt 68: Original Masters
Original Masters - Jethro Tull
Years ago I was in a record store with a friend who found this CD, said that I would probably enjoy it, and bought it for me. I admit my first impression was less than generous, but as is often the case with certain genres it grew on me over time. I even saw fit to name the turtle in my profile picture Jethro, after this band.
Like many of my most beloved artists, Jethro Tull appears unstuck in time, casually utilizing sounds and cultural reference points from all over human history. At times it even reminds me of Faith and the Muse, but with a more playful spirit. Many songs such as Too Old to Rock & Roll and Aqualung have a definite classic-rock sound while Minstrel in the Gallery and Witch's Promise draw imagery and instrumental flourishes straight from a Renaissance fair. The overall aesthetic leans more toward classic rock, which makes it fit right in alongside most contemporary music, more so than those deliberately invoking an ancient or historical feel.
Locomotive Breath, perhaps my favorite track on here, joins several other favorite songs (and a whole album) drawing its main theme and symbolism from trains. I don't know why these songs are so often dynamic and compelling, whether they are hopeful or, in this case, despairing.
Another favorite track is Skating Away On the Thin Ice of a New Day, which takes that despair and turns it into the trepidatious excitement that sometimes marks periods of dramatic change. I remember this song being a great comfort to me during one of the many times of transition I have lived through, probably the time when I had dropped out of college and was struggling to find a job. Perky flute and guitar riffs punctuate lyrics that are almost cliched in their positivity, but still tinged with anxiety.
I still know very little about this band and their other albums, but I can tell they are talented, intelligent, and creative in their songwriting. And their style is eclectic enough that I feel quite confident about playing them for mixed company whose tastes I may not know very well. I definitely would categorize Jethro Tull as a band I would like to hear more of once I am finished reviewing the rest of my collection.
Next: Volume One
Years ago I was in a record store with a friend who found this CD, said that I would probably enjoy it, and bought it for me. I admit my first impression was less than generous, but as is often the case with certain genres it grew on me over time. I even saw fit to name the turtle in my profile picture Jethro, after this band.
Like many of my most beloved artists, Jethro Tull appears unstuck in time, casually utilizing sounds and cultural reference points from all over human history. At times it even reminds me of Faith and the Muse, but with a more playful spirit. Many songs such as Too Old to Rock & Roll and Aqualung have a definite classic-rock sound while Minstrel in the Gallery and Witch's Promise draw imagery and instrumental flourishes straight from a Renaissance fair. The overall aesthetic leans more toward classic rock, which makes it fit right in alongside most contemporary music, more so than those deliberately invoking an ancient or historical feel.
Locomotive Breath, perhaps my favorite track on here, joins several other favorite songs (and a whole album) drawing its main theme and symbolism from trains. I don't know why these songs are so often dynamic and compelling, whether they are hopeful or, in this case, despairing.
Another favorite track is Skating Away On the Thin Ice of a New Day, which takes that despair and turns it into the trepidatious excitement that sometimes marks periods of dramatic change. I remember this song being a great comfort to me during one of the many times of transition I have lived through, probably the time when I had dropped out of college and was struggling to find a job. Perky flute and guitar riffs punctuate lyrics that are almost cliched in their positivity, but still tinged with anxiety.
I still know very little about this band and their other albums, but I can tell they are talented, intelligent, and creative in their songwriting. And their style is eclectic enough that I feel quite confident about playing them for mixed company whose tastes I may not know very well. I definitely would categorize Jethro Tull as a band I would like to hear more of once I am finished reviewing the rest of my collection.
Next: Volume One
Monday, June 08, 2015
All My CDs, pt 67: I Wanted to Call Out
I Wanted to Call Out - Ivan & the Inkdrops
A few years ago I was at a party with a group of Bohemian arty types. I knew very few folks there but still felt quite at home because they let me read poetry aloud and others followed suit. One of the guests, Ivan, was an out-of-towner with a guitar and harmonica and a box of CDs he was selling to fund his travels; I greatly enjoyed the songs he played for us and bought a CD. Far from a mere act of charity, the purchase proved to be very much worthwhile.
The six songs here range from folk-influenced indy in the vein of Indigo Girls to more contemporary indy rock that reminds me of the likes of Sufjan Stevens. The lyrics waver between light and cheery to more cynical-sounding. (One song begins "does the world not understand your jokes or are you just not funny?")
Yet there does not appear to be a thematic inconsistency. The more idyllic, nature-inspired imagery still has a tangy taste to it. Autumn Strawberry is about finding unexpected sweetness when the world is beginning to turn cold. I'd be quite unsurprised to learn that it and Late Bloomer are inspired by the same story.
My favorite song at the moment is Cheerio. It has the virtue of being catchy and singable without being too poppish, and exemplifies much of the best indy music I've heard.
I feel fortunate to have had my first taste of some of these songs in the form of a live performance in an intimate, casual setting. Like much folk music, it seems most enjoyable when heard live, preferably while singing along. Since each of the songs contains at least one portion of call-and-response or repetitive background vocals they are intentionally suited for audience participation.
In reviewing this CD I have reaffirmed my belief in the value of live performances, especially in intimate settings. It makes music seem less of a commodity than a communion, and we need more of that in our society.
Next: Original Masters
A few years ago I was at a party with a group of Bohemian arty types. I knew very few folks there but still felt quite at home because they let me read poetry aloud and others followed suit. One of the guests, Ivan, was an out-of-towner with a guitar and harmonica and a box of CDs he was selling to fund his travels; I greatly enjoyed the songs he played for us and bought a CD. Far from a mere act of charity, the purchase proved to be very much worthwhile.
The six songs here range from folk-influenced indy in the vein of Indigo Girls to more contemporary indy rock that reminds me of the likes of Sufjan Stevens. The lyrics waver between light and cheery to more cynical-sounding. (One song begins "does the world not understand your jokes or are you just not funny?")
Yet there does not appear to be a thematic inconsistency. The more idyllic, nature-inspired imagery still has a tangy taste to it. Autumn Strawberry is about finding unexpected sweetness when the world is beginning to turn cold. I'd be quite unsurprised to learn that it and Late Bloomer are inspired by the same story.
My favorite song at the moment is Cheerio. It has the virtue of being catchy and singable without being too poppish, and exemplifies much of the best indy music I've heard.
I feel fortunate to have had my first taste of some of these songs in the form of a live performance in an intimate, casual setting. Like much folk music, it seems most enjoyable when heard live, preferably while singing along. Since each of the songs contains at least one portion of call-and-response or repetitive background vocals they are intentionally suited for audience participation.
In reviewing this CD I have reaffirmed my belief in the value of live performances, especially in intimate settings. It makes music seem less of a commodity than a communion, and we need more of that in our society.
Next: Original Masters
Thursday, June 04, 2015
All My CDs: pt 66: Come On Now Social
Come On Now Social - Indigo Girls
This will be the last Indigo Girls album I'll be reviewing. I bought it on a whim in early 2013 while perusing the bargain rack with one who is now my fiance. It quickly became a mutual favorite, and I get pretty sentimental writing about it now.
Unlike any other album of theirs that I've heard, Come On Now Social is angry. It's still a far cry from the most wrathful and metal of my adolescence, but has a definite strain of mature, controlled anger, like that of an peaceful but uncompromising freedom-fighter. It's clear from the first electric-guitar chords of the first track, Go, with shades of the fierceness of the first-wave feminist movement. "Did they tell you it was set in stone / that you'd end up alone / use your years to psych you out / you're too old to care, you're too young to count."
I also see a feminist agenda in Compromise, whose powerful and catchy refrain declares "When I'm walking through this world I need to hold your hand / let me take you on this road, I hope you understand / I'm not asking for a compromise." Not asking for a compromise, here, indicates that what is being fought for - freedom, equality, simple human rights - is just not up for negotiation. Yet there is still a call for reconciliation, a need for communion, that shows that the crusade for the oppressed need not be a war between people. It can instead be a reunion between those who have been needlessly - and unnaturally - segregated. Needless to say it could equally apply to the efforts of any other oppressed group's struggle for justice in this world.
Faye Tucker and Philosophy of Loss are similarly dripping with social and political commentary. The latter is cloyingly sweet in melody and vocals but biting and even bitter in its words, from its very first lines to its very last.
Yet here also are songs refreshingly compassionate toward types of people that many lovers of liberal-leaning folk rock might be tempted to look down on: the type described in Cold Beer and Remote Control, the working stiff who can't be bothered to think politically or fight for change in the world. He's too tired from a long hard day for anything but numbing, passive recreation. The kind who might "try not to care, I would lose my mind / runnin' round the same thing time after time."
And also here are some of the happiest songs I have heard all month. Peace Tonight breaks ground by portraying the peacemaking process as more like a party with good friends than a long and contentious negotiation. We Are Together seems along the same lovey-dovey vein. Together the few happy songs provide a needed respite from some of the darker themes of the album.
That's the end of my Indigo Girls reviews. Now for someone much less well-known, but with a few things in common.
Next: I Wanted to Call Out
This will be the last Indigo Girls album I'll be reviewing. I bought it on a whim in early 2013 while perusing the bargain rack with one who is now my fiance. It quickly became a mutual favorite, and I get pretty sentimental writing about it now.
Unlike any other album of theirs that I've heard, Come On Now Social is angry. It's still a far cry from the most wrathful and metal of my adolescence, but has a definite strain of mature, controlled anger, like that of an peaceful but uncompromising freedom-fighter. It's clear from the first electric-guitar chords of the first track, Go, with shades of the fierceness of the first-wave feminist movement. "Did they tell you it was set in stone / that you'd end up alone / use your years to psych you out / you're too old to care, you're too young to count."
I also see a feminist agenda in Compromise, whose powerful and catchy refrain declares "When I'm walking through this world I need to hold your hand / let me take you on this road, I hope you understand / I'm not asking for a compromise." Not asking for a compromise, here, indicates that what is being fought for - freedom, equality, simple human rights - is just not up for negotiation. Yet there is still a call for reconciliation, a need for communion, that shows that the crusade for the oppressed need not be a war between people. It can instead be a reunion between those who have been needlessly - and unnaturally - segregated. Needless to say it could equally apply to the efforts of any other oppressed group's struggle for justice in this world.
Faye Tucker and Philosophy of Loss are similarly dripping with social and political commentary. The latter is cloyingly sweet in melody and vocals but biting and even bitter in its words, from its very first lines to its very last.
Yet here also are songs refreshingly compassionate toward types of people that many lovers of liberal-leaning folk rock might be tempted to look down on: the type described in Cold Beer and Remote Control, the working stiff who can't be bothered to think politically or fight for change in the world. He's too tired from a long hard day for anything but numbing, passive recreation. The kind who might "try not to care, I would lose my mind / runnin' round the same thing time after time."
And also here are some of the happiest songs I have heard all month. Peace Tonight breaks ground by portraying the peacemaking process as more like a party with good friends than a long and contentious negotiation. We Are Together seems along the same lovey-dovey vein. Together the few happy songs provide a needed respite from some of the darker themes of the album.
That's the end of my Indigo Girls reviews. Now for someone much less well-known, but with a few things in common.
Next: I Wanted to Call Out
Monday, June 01, 2015
All My CDs, pt 65: Indigo Girls
Indigo Girls - Indigo Girls
I think this will be one of my favorite albums for a long time. I'm not sure if I can pin down the reason why, other than just my love for the band, since nothing seems to set it apart from the others significantly. I just know that I am filled with glee whenever I put it on.
It opens with a song tailor-made to soothe the nerves of an overthinker like myself. The next few songs are poetry rife with mysterious turns of phrase, quite fertile ground for an overthinker like myself. I am particularly enamored of Kid Fears, partly because of its ominously nostalgic imagery and partly due to the surprise vocal cameo by REM's Michael Stipe. I would not have expected him to fit so beautifully into an Indigo Girls song, but there he is in his familiar, slightly gravelly glory.
One that I used to love, then forgot about, and now love again is Prince of Darkness, a kind of anti-pessimism song that sees your dark and edgy ways and rejects them as... well, dark. In my life I dabble (often more than dabble) in things dreary and macabre - this music collection repeatedly shows that side of me. Yet I equally crave lightness, gentleness, and idealism. "My place is of the sun /this place is of the dark / I do not feel the romance / I do not catch the spark."
Yet there's not just rosy sunshine and happiness on this album. Blood and Fire is yet another angsty love song, and possibly among the angstiest of all, with stripped-down instrumentation and pain-filled vocals only Amy Ray can deliver. And in Secure Yourself, despite its overall idyllic outlook, it's difficult to escape the oblique allusions to death: "Secure yourself to heaven / hold on tight, the night has come."
Love's Recovery is a love song that has only become more meaningful and dear to me as I've gained love experience - particularly, as I've learned a little about what it takes to stay committed in a relationship that has gotten more challenging. "All our friends who think they're so together / they've all gone and left each other in the search for fairer weather / and we sit here in our storm and drink a toast / to the slim chance of love's recovery." The whole song is essentially an ode to sticking it out. Love songs may be a dime a dozen in the pop landscape, but commitment songs are gold.
Overall I find this to be one of the more cheerful and cheering of the albums I own. It's in subtle contrast with (and yet complimentary to) the next one I'll be reviewing.
Next: Come On Now Social
I think this will be one of my favorite albums for a long time. I'm not sure if I can pin down the reason why, other than just my love for the band, since nothing seems to set it apart from the others significantly. I just know that I am filled with glee whenever I put it on.
It opens with a song tailor-made to soothe the nerves of an overthinker like myself. The next few songs are poetry rife with mysterious turns of phrase, quite fertile ground for an overthinker like myself. I am particularly enamored of Kid Fears, partly because of its ominously nostalgic imagery and partly due to the surprise vocal cameo by REM's Michael Stipe. I would not have expected him to fit so beautifully into an Indigo Girls song, but there he is in his familiar, slightly gravelly glory.
One that I used to love, then forgot about, and now love again is Prince of Darkness, a kind of anti-pessimism song that sees your dark and edgy ways and rejects them as... well, dark. In my life I dabble (often more than dabble) in things dreary and macabre - this music collection repeatedly shows that side of me. Yet I equally crave lightness, gentleness, and idealism. "My place is of the sun /this place is of the dark / I do not feel the romance / I do not catch the spark."
Yet there's not just rosy sunshine and happiness on this album. Blood and Fire is yet another angsty love song, and possibly among the angstiest of all, with stripped-down instrumentation and pain-filled vocals only Amy Ray can deliver. And in Secure Yourself, despite its overall idyllic outlook, it's difficult to escape the oblique allusions to death: "Secure yourself to heaven / hold on tight, the night has come."
Love's Recovery is a love song that has only become more meaningful and dear to me as I've gained love experience - particularly, as I've learned a little about what it takes to stay committed in a relationship that has gotten more challenging. "All our friends who think they're so together / they've all gone and left each other in the search for fairer weather / and we sit here in our storm and drink a toast / to the slim chance of love's recovery." The whole song is essentially an ode to sticking it out. Love songs may be a dime a dozen in the pop landscape, but commitment songs are gold.
Overall I find this to be one of the more cheerful and cheering of the albums I own. It's in subtle contrast with (and yet complimentary to) the next one I'll be reviewing.
Next: Come On Now Social
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)