The Magic Position - Patrick Wolf
In the year and a half that I’ve been trying to hold myself to listening to my entire collection in the order they’re shelved in, this is the one I’ve most played out of turn, during the couple of weeks here and there that I’ve taken a break and just listened according to my immediate whims. I don’t think that’s because I like it any more than the rest of my collection - I think it might just be because it’s so late in the order that it’s been more of a strain on my patience than the others. It’s also unique - there is little about it that I could easily get from another album.
That said, I recently noticed that Patrick Wolf has some similarities with Rufus Wainwright, whom I reviewed a few weeks ago, although it’s hard to put my finger on exactly what it is they have in common. Certainly Wolf appears to be less mature and complex, a bit more angsty, but the majority of the songs on this album have an infectious joy in them that I see in Wainwright’s happier songs. Compare the title track, The Magic Position, to Wainwright’s Beautiful Child. Both were on the playlist I played at my wedding because of that joy that they embody.
Even the darkest songs on The Magic Position are a little hard to take seriously, not because they seem disingenuous but because they’re so enthusiastic in their angst. They’re far from boring or cliche. More often, the songs convey a sense of childlike wonder and pure appreciation of life, even its more painful aspects. A longtime favorite is the penultimate track, The Stars, which at one climactic point simply makes its central thesis:
Look up
look up
the stars!
and then lets the music show us their beauty.
I can’t think of a better way to end my collection than with such a lovely, love-filled album as this.
End of All My CDs
It’s been more than ten dozen reviews and a year and a half since I started this project. I had a goal I hoped to achieve in the process: a better knowledge and appreciation of my collection, so I don’t become one of those people who mindlessly consumes without stopping to really enjoy things. That’s why I resolved not to buy any new CDs until the project was completed. I ended up breaking that rule once, but it was quite late in the game and I don’t think that single lapse kept me from nurturing that sense of appreciation. As for knowledge, I feel I know my collection better than ever, and learned quite a lot about the music that I was neglecting over the years. In that way, I think I’ll call this project a success.
What’s the future of my collection? There’s one change I would like to make now that I’ve taken a full and deep inventory of its contents. I decided that alphabetical order is not the ideal organizational structure for music. Not when my collection is so large and diverse that I can’t immediately bring to mind the name of the band I would like to listen to at any given time. I always disliked segregating music by genre, the way record stores often do, because some of my favorite groups belong in multiple categories or none at all. I may compromise between those two strategies and categorize artists by why I like them, so that I can seek out those qualities when I’m in the mood for them. I already have an idea of what artists will end up grouped together.
I didn’t aim for it, but I think it’s fortuitously appropriate that my last review be posted on New Year’s Eve, so I can begin 2016 with a sense of accomplishment and an opportunity for future projects and new music. There are a couple of albums I have my eye on as new additions to my collection, although I don’t think I’ll be quite as acquisitive as I was in the past. In the meantime, I am very much looking forward to using my blogging powers for good in other areas of my life.
So see you next year, with who knows what kind of new subject matter. I’ll be sticking to a regular update schedule, but going down to once per week, on Thursdays.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Monday, December 28, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 122: Earth to America
Earth to America - Widespread Panic
This might be my most rushed review yet. Not only did I not give this album a proper listen when I first grabbed it at random from the bargain rack a few years ago, I didn’t get a chance to listen to it all weekend either. Now I’m supposed to have a review posted by the end of the day, and I haven’t yet heard more than half the album. I’m forming my first impression even as I write. But I have a schedule and really want to finish this project by the end of the year, so please forgive my haste.
I had zero knowledge of this band or their music before picking up the CD. I’m actually getting something of a Dave Matthews Band vibe from it; similar genre and vocal style at least. It’s fun rock music with a decent beat; it's got some jazz and blues elements but not enough to completely turn me off. It’s definitely not something I’d have sought out, but as a randomly-picked unknown, I’ve definitely had worse.
I can’t say anything about the lyrics at this time. It’s rare that they’re sung in a way that’s easy to follow without reading along, and I can’t say I’ve caught a single line of words that I’m confident I heard correctly. Not that I mind; the music itself is quite entertaining enough.
Overall I’m not sure why I never gave this a listen before now. I seem to remember it was one of two or three CDs I bought that day, and one of the others was by a favorite band. So I just never got around to listening to this one, to my detriment.
Next: The Magic Position
And: The End of All My CDs
This might be my most rushed review yet. Not only did I not give this album a proper listen when I first grabbed it at random from the bargain rack a few years ago, I didn’t get a chance to listen to it all weekend either. Now I’m supposed to have a review posted by the end of the day, and I haven’t yet heard more than half the album. I’m forming my first impression even as I write. But I have a schedule and really want to finish this project by the end of the year, so please forgive my haste.
I had zero knowledge of this band or their music before picking up the CD. I’m actually getting something of a Dave Matthews Band vibe from it; similar genre and vocal style at least. It’s fun rock music with a decent beat; it's got some jazz and blues elements but not enough to completely turn me off. It’s definitely not something I’d have sought out, but as a randomly-picked unknown, I’ve definitely had worse.
I can’t say anything about the lyrics at this time. It’s rare that they’re sung in a way that’s easy to follow without reading along, and I can’t say I’ve caught a single line of words that I’m confident I heard correctly. Not that I mind; the music itself is quite entertaining enough.
Overall I’m not sure why I never gave this a listen before now. I seem to remember it was one of two or three CDs I bought that day, and one of the others was by a favorite band. So I just never got around to listening to this one, to my detriment.
Next: The Magic Position
And: The End of All My CDs
Thursday, December 24, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 121: Where the Wild Things Are
Where the Wild Things Are: Motion Picture Soundtrack - Karen O. and the Kids
When the film Where the Wild Things Are came out, it was often said in reviews and various other writings that it may be a movie about childhood, but that didn’t necessarily make it for children, in that it dealt with a lot of darkness and complexity that would make it more suitable for adult audiences. Media like that hits a delicate demographic niche: it runs the risk of offending audiences that are expecting more lighthearted fare, and people who would appreciate the subtlety of the narrative may not even see it because of its childish appearance - filled with funny puppets and costumes and based, as it is, on a short picture book.
Media that is about childhood but not necessarily for children can be particularly difficult also because it is almost always made by adults - and understandably so, because children usually lack the resources and skills to make large-scale popular art. So media about children and childhood necessarily comes from an outsider perspective - yes we’ve all been children before, but how many of us still remember the visceral experience of it and can accurately describe it without injecting our mature perspectives?
What I’m getting at is that this soundtrack, like the movie it was made for, is made by adults trying to capture the perspectives and experiences of children. The most commonly heard voice on the album is of Karen O., an adult woman sounding remarkably similar to a little boy. Other voices are clearly trying to emulate the energetic and undisciplined sound of children singing, shouting, playing, fighting. The instrumental accompaniment is reminiscent of other large-group indie ensembles like The Polyphonic Spree and The Arcade Fire (possibly why a song by The Arcade Fire was used in the film’s trailer).
The exceptions are Hideaway and Worried Shoes, which sound calmer and more adult than the rest of the songs, with contemplative lyrics and simple piano accompaniment.
My favorite tracks on the album are Sailing Home and Building All Is Love, the latter because it’s one of those extra-long songs with several false endings that I generally find myself attracted to (if I’m enjoying something, I like having it go on longer than I expect). Both songs are just so hopeful and springy.
Two more CDs and I’ll be done with this project.
Next: Earth to America
When the film Where the Wild Things Are came out, it was often said in reviews and various other writings that it may be a movie about childhood, but that didn’t necessarily make it for children, in that it dealt with a lot of darkness and complexity that would make it more suitable for adult audiences. Media like that hits a delicate demographic niche: it runs the risk of offending audiences that are expecting more lighthearted fare, and people who would appreciate the subtlety of the narrative may not even see it because of its childish appearance - filled with funny puppets and costumes and based, as it is, on a short picture book.
Media that is about childhood but not necessarily for children can be particularly difficult also because it is almost always made by adults - and understandably so, because children usually lack the resources and skills to make large-scale popular art. So media about children and childhood necessarily comes from an outsider perspective - yes we’ve all been children before, but how many of us still remember the visceral experience of it and can accurately describe it without injecting our mature perspectives?
What I’m getting at is that this soundtrack, like the movie it was made for, is made by adults trying to capture the perspectives and experiences of children. The most commonly heard voice on the album is of Karen O., an adult woman sounding remarkably similar to a little boy. Other voices are clearly trying to emulate the energetic and undisciplined sound of children singing, shouting, playing, fighting. The instrumental accompaniment is reminiscent of other large-group indie ensembles like The Polyphonic Spree and The Arcade Fire (possibly why a song by The Arcade Fire was used in the film’s trailer).
The exceptions are Hideaway and Worried Shoes, which sound calmer and more adult than the rest of the songs, with contemplative lyrics and simple piano accompaniment.
My favorite tracks on the album are Sailing Home and Building All Is Love, the latter because it’s one of those extra-long songs with several false endings that I generally find myself attracted to (if I’m enjoying something, I like having it go on longer than I expect). Both songs are just so hopeful and springy.
Two more CDs and I’ll be done with this project.
Next: Earth to America
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 120: Wheel
I opened my eyes one day and was
Wheel - Pat DeSimio and Mallory Beck
This is another CD I’m liable to be biased in reviewing, since half of the duo who recorded it is a dear friend of mine. They recorded this eight-song “demo” of sorts before joining with a third member whose name escapes me to form a folk band called Wheel of Sky, which was locally active for a very short time before fate forced the members to go their separate ways.
The music is quite simple, traditional-style folk music with agrarian themes and a consistent focus on the cyclical nature of time - the pattern of night following day, the wheel of the passing seasons, and the broader cycle of life leading from birth to death. For songwriters living in modern suburban environments, it’s amazing how vividly they depict a less industrial existence in farm villages and near-wilderness, where the passing of seasons has such an impact on life that no aspect of work or play can ignore it.
As much as we can try to, I don’t think it’s any more possible to ignore such cycles now. We may be able to soften winter’s impact with heated houses and cars, but we still feel its power. And a modern human who fails to turn his face toward the sun during spring and summer is a sad one indeed. Moreover, the larger cycle of birth, life, age, and death has no less a grip on us than ever, although perhaps our de-emphasis on seasonal changes and their spiritual, cultural significance has made death all the more bleak and final to our minds.
These are the thoughts that this music has put into my head this week.
Come as mistakes turn into wisdom
come as the rash become the sage
come as the blooms of youth grow into
the rich harvest that blesses age
Next: Where the Wild Things Are
Wheel - Pat DeSimio and Mallory Beck
This is another CD I’m liable to be biased in reviewing, since half of the duo who recorded it is a dear friend of mine. They recorded this eight-song “demo” of sorts before joining with a third member whose name escapes me to form a folk band called Wheel of Sky, which was locally active for a very short time before fate forced the members to go their separate ways.
The music is quite simple, traditional-style folk music with agrarian themes and a consistent focus on the cyclical nature of time - the pattern of night following day, the wheel of the passing seasons, and the broader cycle of life leading from birth to death. For songwriters living in modern suburban environments, it’s amazing how vividly they depict a less industrial existence in farm villages and near-wilderness, where the passing of seasons has such an impact on life that no aspect of work or play can ignore it.
As much as we can try to, I don’t think it’s any more possible to ignore such cycles now. We may be able to soften winter’s impact with heated houses and cars, but we still feel its power. And a modern human who fails to turn his face toward the sun during spring and summer is a sad one indeed. Moreover, the larger cycle of birth, life, age, and death has no less a grip on us than ever, although perhaps our de-emphasis on seasonal changes and their spiritual, cultural significance has made death all the more bleak and final to our minds.
These are the thoughts that this music has put into my head this week.
Come as mistakes turn into wisdom
come as the rash become the sage
come as the blooms of youth grow into
the rich harvest that blesses age
Next: Where the Wild Things Are
Thursday, December 17, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 119: Want Two
I only have five more CDs to review before I’m done with my entire collection, and this project. I’ll have all reviews posted just in time for the end of 2015. After that, it’ll be a short break before I’m back with more to say, just not all of it on the subject of CDs that I own. Some of it will be about CDs I do not own. Some of it will be about things I own that are not CDs. Some of it will be about things that are not CDs and that I do not own. Some of it will be about things that could never be owned, like freedom or death or people. Some of it will be about things that will never be found on CD, like the voice of morning sunshine and the taste of blueberries.
I’m looking forward to an exciting new year.
Want Two - Rufus Wainwright
I got this album a few years after I got Want One, mainly because I had heard the song Little Sister and enjoyed it. It’s quite obviously a sequel, and not just due to the title. The cover art for each echoes the style and symbolism of the other, the major difference being that while Want One’s cover features pictures of Rufus dressed as a medieval knight with a sword, in Want Two’s he is dressed as a medieval lady with a distaff. A distaff is a tool used for spinning fiber into yarn or thread, and has since ancient times symbolized femininity - hence, it seems Want Two is intended to be the distaff counterpart to Want One, expressing female points of view or experiences.
And indeed a few of the songs do focus on women, such as Little Sister which humorously approaches the historical marginalization of women from an unashamed male standpoint, and The Art Teacher which tells a story of unrequited love from a woman’s point of view. Neither is exactly a feminist song, which is refreshing in a way; they focus on women’s struggles for recognition against expectations of passivity and properness, but in neither song is that status quo actually challenged. So it has been for most people for most of history.
Other than those two songs, though, there isn’t a huge difference between this album and Want One that makes it more inherently feminine. They’re similar in style, just as their covers are similar in style. If there’s a difference I can put my finger on it’s that Want Two might be slightly more experimental, a little more “out there”, taking a few more risks with weird sounds and lyrics. But even that is a subtle difference and possibly a subjective one.
Also worth noting is that Want Two has a few songs devoted to overt sexuality (such as Old Whore’s Diet), as well as to religious imagery (such as Agnus Dei). Funnily, Gay Messiah covers both areas at once, borrowing Christian mythological themes and affectionately applying gay stereotypes. Both sex and spirituality, as well as homosexuality, have historically been associated with femininity. Was that the intent behind making this album implicitly the female counterpoint to its predecessor? Or is the overall similarity in their styles intended to convey that there is no real, meaningful difference between the genders, as much as our history insists otherwise?
My guess is, a little bit of both.
Next: Wheel
I’m looking forward to an exciting new year.
Want Two - Rufus Wainwright
I got this album a few years after I got Want One, mainly because I had heard the song Little Sister and enjoyed it. It’s quite obviously a sequel, and not just due to the title. The cover art for each echoes the style and symbolism of the other, the major difference being that while Want One’s cover features pictures of Rufus dressed as a medieval knight with a sword, in Want Two’s he is dressed as a medieval lady with a distaff. A distaff is a tool used for spinning fiber into yarn or thread, and has since ancient times symbolized femininity - hence, it seems Want Two is intended to be the distaff counterpart to Want One, expressing female points of view or experiences.
And indeed a few of the songs do focus on women, such as Little Sister which humorously approaches the historical marginalization of women from an unashamed male standpoint, and The Art Teacher which tells a story of unrequited love from a woman’s point of view. Neither is exactly a feminist song, which is refreshing in a way; they focus on women’s struggles for recognition against expectations of passivity and properness, but in neither song is that status quo actually challenged. So it has been for most people for most of history.
Other than those two songs, though, there isn’t a huge difference between this album and Want One that makes it more inherently feminine. They’re similar in style, just as their covers are similar in style. If there’s a difference I can put my finger on it’s that Want Two might be slightly more experimental, a little more “out there”, taking a few more risks with weird sounds and lyrics. But even that is a subtle difference and possibly a subjective one.
Also worth noting is that Want Two has a few songs devoted to overt sexuality (such as Old Whore’s Diet), as well as to religious imagery (such as Agnus Dei). Funnily, Gay Messiah covers both areas at once, borrowing Christian mythological themes and affectionately applying gay stereotypes. Both sex and spirituality, as well as homosexuality, have historically been associated with femininity. Was that the intent behind making this album implicitly the female counterpoint to its predecessor? Or is the overall similarity in their styles intended to convey that there is no real, meaningful difference between the genders, as much as our history insists otherwise?
My guess is, a little bit of both.
Next: Wheel
Monday, December 14, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 118: Want One
Want One - Rufus Wainwright
After hearing his rendition of Hallelujah, and after Dinner at Eight showed up a few times on Pandora, I decided it was time to buy a Rufus Wainwright album and to start with Want One. I’d be lying if I said a small part of me wasn’t disappointed in the album as a whole, although there were definitely parts I liked about it. Over the years, however, I’ve come to understand how much I missed out on by not appreciating it.
In all the many ways there are to categorize music, by genre or by mood or by what kinds of instruments are involved, whether there are lyrics and whether the lyrics mean anything, one of the most basic distinctions I’ve seen is between “big” and “small” sound. Small sound may (but not necessarily) have few instruments, an intimate feel, and personal lyrics about feelings or relationships - evocative of a small cafe where someone sits in a corner strumming a guitar and crooning about lost love, or a living room where your guest picks out a tune on an upright piano. Big sound is more characteristic of large groups playing in arenas or concert halls, big productions and themes that are less personal. Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody is big sound, as is every classical symphony. Tori Amos’s Yes Anastasia is small sound, as is Moonlight Sonata.
Obviously there’s a great deal in the middle of these two extremes; it’s a broad spectrum. And notably, individual musicians can produce works anywhere along that spectrum, although some may favor one end or the other overall. When my experience of Rufus Wainwright was from the songs Hallelujah and Dinner at Eight, which are both very small, I was not sure what to make of an album full of songs with very big sound - orchestral accompaniment, choirs of backup singers, and grand bombastic deliveries - but lyrics that were much more evocative of intimate, personal themes. I just wasn’t sure how to appreciate it at first. Now, I think I do. The mix of big and small sound gives the album a lot of texture and an outlet for extremes of emotion that aren’t quite accessible in music that is only small.
Today, it is the biggest songs on the album that are my favorites, including Beautiful Child, which I went so far as to feature on the playlist of music I put on at my wedding this past fall. The outpouring of hope, joy, and overwhelming beauty in that song could only ever be captured with a chaos of blaring trumpets, jangling percussion, and about a million other voices united in coordinated disarray.
When I have finally found the room filled with toys
be banging on my crib excited by noise
Oh, how I’ll feel like a beautiful child
such a beautiful child again
Next: Want Two
After hearing his rendition of Hallelujah, and after Dinner at Eight showed up a few times on Pandora, I decided it was time to buy a Rufus Wainwright album and to start with Want One. I’d be lying if I said a small part of me wasn’t disappointed in the album as a whole, although there were definitely parts I liked about it. Over the years, however, I’ve come to understand how much I missed out on by not appreciating it.
In all the many ways there are to categorize music, by genre or by mood or by what kinds of instruments are involved, whether there are lyrics and whether the lyrics mean anything, one of the most basic distinctions I’ve seen is between “big” and “small” sound. Small sound may (but not necessarily) have few instruments, an intimate feel, and personal lyrics about feelings or relationships - evocative of a small cafe where someone sits in a corner strumming a guitar and crooning about lost love, or a living room where your guest picks out a tune on an upright piano. Big sound is more characteristic of large groups playing in arenas or concert halls, big productions and themes that are less personal. Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody is big sound, as is every classical symphony. Tori Amos’s Yes Anastasia is small sound, as is Moonlight Sonata.
Obviously there’s a great deal in the middle of these two extremes; it’s a broad spectrum. And notably, individual musicians can produce works anywhere along that spectrum, although some may favor one end or the other overall. When my experience of Rufus Wainwright was from the songs Hallelujah and Dinner at Eight, which are both very small, I was not sure what to make of an album full of songs with very big sound - orchestral accompaniment, choirs of backup singers, and grand bombastic deliveries - but lyrics that were much more evocative of intimate, personal themes. I just wasn’t sure how to appreciate it at first. Now, I think I do. The mix of big and small sound gives the album a lot of texture and an outlet for extremes of emotion that aren’t quite accessible in music that is only small.
Today, it is the biggest songs on the album that are my favorites, including Beautiful Child, which I went so far as to feature on the playlist of music I put on at my wedding this past fall. The outpouring of hope, joy, and overwhelming beauty in that song could only ever be captured with a chaos of blaring trumpets, jangling percussion, and about a million other voices united in coordinated disarray.
When I have finally found the room filled with toys
be banging on my crib excited by noise
Oh, how I’ll feel like a beautiful child
such a beautiful child again
Next: Want Two
Thursday, December 10, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 117: New Times
I got a machine and I took over the world
in one weekend
I did it because I was looking for a project
and it was either take over the world or learn french
so I took over the world
and next weekend I can learn french.
New Times - Violent Femmes
I got this album a few years after discovering and falling in love with the band’s self-titled album. My salient impression is that it’s the same, but very different. The styles are more diverse and adventurous, the subject matter more mature, but at its core it’s still very distinctly Violent Femmes. I like bands and musicians who are able to branch out without losing the unique characteristics that set them apart.
I don’t know if I have enough musical vocabulary (even after 116 of these reviews) to confidently say much about this album. It subverts expectations at almost every turn. It turns familiar tropes on their heads, but not in a way that looks parodic. A good example of what I’m trying to talk about is the song Key of 2, whose lyrics and music both tell a story about learning to love music that’s just... wrong, possibly due to the same exposure effect whereby an annoyance becomes beloved through repetition. “It’s the music of the future / and it will get to you.”
4 Seasons takes the very old motif of seasons that’s so common in classic romantic artwork, but plays with it in a punk style that makes it fresh and weird. I’m Nothing is a happy song about nihilism, and how could you possibly argue with that?
Machine is hardly even music - the words are spoken, the sounds (all electronic) have little in the way of melody, just well-orchestrated chaos. Yet it’s catchy and clever and I just love listening to it. I can’t imagine conveying the information in this song in any other format.
Overall I found the writing on this album far more intelligent and sophisticated than I ever expected. From the literary allusions in New Times and Agamemnon to the poignant international politics touched on in Jesus of Rio, there is just a lot to think about here.
I got a machine and I took over the world
but nothing changed
that wouldn’t be fair
Next: Want One
in one weekend
I did it because I was looking for a project
and it was either take over the world or learn french
so I took over the world
and next weekend I can learn french.
New Times - Violent Femmes
I got this album a few years after discovering and falling in love with the band’s self-titled album. My salient impression is that it’s the same, but very different. The styles are more diverse and adventurous, the subject matter more mature, but at its core it’s still very distinctly Violent Femmes. I like bands and musicians who are able to branch out without losing the unique characteristics that set them apart.
I don’t know if I have enough musical vocabulary (even after 116 of these reviews) to confidently say much about this album. It subverts expectations at almost every turn. It turns familiar tropes on their heads, but not in a way that looks parodic. A good example of what I’m trying to talk about is the song Key of 2, whose lyrics and music both tell a story about learning to love music that’s just... wrong, possibly due to the same exposure effect whereby an annoyance becomes beloved through repetition. “It’s the music of the future / and it will get to you.”
4 Seasons takes the very old motif of seasons that’s so common in classic romantic artwork, but plays with it in a punk style that makes it fresh and weird. I’m Nothing is a happy song about nihilism, and how could you possibly argue with that?
Machine is hardly even music - the words are spoken, the sounds (all electronic) have little in the way of melody, just well-orchestrated chaos. Yet it’s catchy and clever and I just love listening to it. I can’t imagine conveying the information in this song in any other format.
Overall I found the writing on this album far more intelligent and sophisticated than I ever expected. From the literary allusions in New Times and Agamemnon to the poignant international politics touched on in Jesus of Rio, there is just a lot to think about here.
I got a machine and I took over the world
but nothing changed
that wouldn’t be fair
Next: Want One
Monday, December 07, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 116: Violent Femmes
Violent Femmes - Violent Femmes
When I was a teenager, broke and wishing I could afford some new music, I happened to see this CD in the public trash can outside the local used record shop. I speculated that someone must have tried selling it to the shop, failed because it didn’t have its original liner notes, and threw it away instead. Never one to let perfectly good trash go to waste, I fished it out and discovered a new favorite band.
I had never heard of the Violent Femmes before, but I had heard one song on the album already: Blister in the Sun, which a group of kids had played at a church youth group talent show. That song has since become one of my favorites to sing at karaoke, and I suggest you try it as well, because the more breathy and uneven you are due to nervousness the more like the original you’ll sound. Plus it’s short, catchy, and repetitive.
Speaking of repetitive, the subjects and themes on this album are pretty narrow. The songs are almost all about the petty frustrations and simpleminded hungers of horny teenagers. And yet, they don’t sound at all like the emo bands that were popular in my youth, with their disproportioned rage and narcissism. They’re simplistic and rough and sincere, and very singable, but without the slightest trace of commercialism or pretense. And there is something deeply comforting about it. A part of me is still a petulant child with delusions of maturity, and listening to this album helps.
There seem to be no instruments all except for vocals, guitar, bass, and drums - the basic elements that a group of high schoolers might assemble in a garage in the hopes of achieving their dream of rockstardom. I don’t know if they nailed the garage-band aesthetic so perfectly because that’s what they were or if it was a calculated manipulation, but I don’t think I care because the result is just so enjoyable.
I will talk a little bit about my favorite song on the album, Add it Up, which I think of as a masterpiece expressing the continual disappointment and frustration that we all, every one of us, must face as a result of not living in a world catered to fulfilling our every desire.
why can’t I get just one screw
believe me I’d know what to do
but something won’t let me make love to you
The first few verses establish that, day after day, something is missing, and hints that something is eventually going to crack.
take a look now what at your boy has done
he’s walking around like he’s number one
he went downtown and he got him a gun
don’t shoot shoot shoot that thing at me
you know you’ve got my sympathy
but don’t shoot shoot shoot that thing at me
We live in a terrifying time, and as while everyone who cracks has some sick political or philosophical justification of what they’re doing, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a simpler explanation: all these frustrations and disappointments and perceived injustices just add up until the whole world needs to be punished. I don’t think it’s because life is any more fair for the people who aren’t spewing rage like a volcano. Something else is going on here, and I aim to figure it out.
Next: New Times
When I was a teenager, broke and wishing I could afford some new music, I happened to see this CD in the public trash can outside the local used record shop. I speculated that someone must have tried selling it to the shop, failed because it didn’t have its original liner notes, and threw it away instead. Never one to let perfectly good trash go to waste, I fished it out and discovered a new favorite band.
I had never heard of the Violent Femmes before, but I had heard one song on the album already: Blister in the Sun, which a group of kids had played at a church youth group talent show. That song has since become one of my favorites to sing at karaoke, and I suggest you try it as well, because the more breathy and uneven you are due to nervousness the more like the original you’ll sound. Plus it’s short, catchy, and repetitive.
Speaking of repetitive, the subjects and themes on this album are pretty narrow. The songs are almost all about the petty frustrations and simpleminded hungers of horny teenagers. And yet, they don’t sound at all like the emo bands that were popular in my youth, with their disproportioned rage and narcissism. They’re simplistic and rough and sincere, and very singable, but without the slightest trace of commercialism or pretense. And there is something deeply comforting about it. A part of me is still a petulant child with delusions of maturity, and listening to this album helps.
There seem to be no instruments all except for vocals, guitar, bass, and drums - the basic elements that a group of high schoolers might assemble in a garage in the hopes of achieving their dream of rockstardom. I don’t know if they nailed the garage-band aesthetic so perfectly because that’s what they were or if it was a calculated manipulation, but I don’t think I care because the result is just so enjoyable.
I will talk a little bit about my favorite song on the album, Add it Up, which I think of as a masterpiece expressing the continual disappointment and frustration that we all, every one of us, must face as a result of not living in a world catered to fulfilling our every desire.
why can’t I get just one screw
believe me I’d know what to do
but something won’t let me make love to you
The first few verses establish that, day after day, something is missing, and hints that something is eventually going to crack.
take a look now what at your boy has done
he’s walking around like he’s number one
he went downtown and he got him a gun
don’t shoot shoot shoot that thing at me
you know you’ve got my sympathy
but don’t shoot shoot shoot that thing at me
We live in a terrifying time, and as while everyone who cracks has some sick political or philosophical justification of what they’re doing, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a simpler explanation: all these frustrations and disappointments and perceived injustices just add up until the whole world needs to be punished. I don’t think it’s because life is any more fair for the people who aren’t spewing rage like a volcano. Something else is going on here, and I aim to figure it out.
Next: New Times
Thursday, December 03, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 115: Fear
Fear - Toad the Wet Sprocket
This is another of the handful of CDs that I got and barely listened to, if at all, for years until this review project forced me to actually play it all the way through. I picked it up from the dollar rack because I thought Toad the Wet Sprocket was a terrific name for a band, and I had vague memories of enjoying a few of their songs on the radio, but mostly because of the name. To this day I don’t know if I’ve ever encountered a better band name.
My first impression of the music was that it’s mostly bland folk-influenced pop rock with vaguely poetic lyrics such as “Walk on the ocean / step on the stones / flesh becomes water / wood becomes bone.” It seemed all very positive and pseudo-spiritual to me. And I mostly held onto that notion until a few songs later when I heard “Take her arms and hold her down and hold her down and hold her down / until she stops screaming / take her arms and hold her down and hold her down and hold her down / until she stops breathing.”
From then on, I started to notice a distinctly dark and morbid bend to the words, which started to bleed over into the music as well. Yet it still manages to not be completely dismal. Maybe it’s the harmony or the way the voices blend with the instruments but even during the refrain that goes “Before you were born someone kicked in the door / you are not wanted here, stay back where you belong” sounds somehow uplifting.
My favorite song of the moment is Something to Say, if only for one couplet:
you can take me down, you can show me your home
not the place where you live but the place where you belong
Here’s to all of you for whom that might ring true.
Next: Violent Femmes
This is another of the handful of CDs that I got and barely listened to, if at all, for years until this review project forced me to actually play it all the way through. I picked it up from the dollar rack because I thought Toad the Wet Sprocket was a terrific name for a band, and I had vague memories of enjoying a few of their songs on the radio, but mostly because of the name. To this day I don’t know if I’ve ever encountered a better band name.
My first impression of the music was that it’s mostly bland folk-influenced pop rock with vaguely poetic lyrics such as “Walk on the ocean / step on the stones / flesh becomes water / wood becomes bone.” It seemed all very positive and pseudo-spiritual to me. And I mostly held onto that notion until a few songs later when I heard “Take her arms and hold her down and hold her down and hold her down / until she stops screaming / take her arms and hold her down and hold her down and hold her down / until she stops breathing.”
From then on, I started to notice a distinctly dark and morbid bend to the words, which started to bleed over into the music as well. Yet it still manages to not be completely dismal. Maybe it’s the harmony or the way the voices blend with the instruments but even during the refrain that goes “Before you were born someone kicked in the door / you are not wanted here, stay back where you belong” sounds somehow uplifting.
My favorite song of the moment is Something to Say, if only for one couplet:
you can take me down, you can show me your home
not the place where you live but the place where you belong
Here’s to all of you for whom that might ring true.
Next: Violent Femmes
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