12.15.2014

A review of Marilyn Manson's "Deep Six"

Is that a toilet seat cover on his face?

The first twenty-one seconds of "Deep Six", the newest single from Manson's upcoming emission, The Pale Emperor, are good.
Then, the vocals, drums, guitar and bass come in and that changes pretty deistically.
The first "verse" and the fourth "verse" are the same, as are the second and third "verse".
Yes, there is grumpy, mush-mouthed mumbling.
Yes, there is bad word play, repeated ad infinitum (you wanna know what Zeus said to Narcissus? / you better watch yourself"). Get it? Huh? Get it?
There's something somewhat appealing about the mantra towards the end and Manson pushing his voice to new heights of agony at times, but whether that's good or not, I'm not going to hazard an opinion.
This is, hands down, the most interesting thing we've heard from TPE thus far, including the first official single "Third Day Of A Seven Day Binge""Cupid Carries A Gun" (which was used for the opening credits of Salem), and "Killing Strangers" (which was featured in the recent Keanu Reeves' blood orgy, John Wick).
That isn't saying very much.
The Pale Emperor begins his reign of mediocrity January 19th.
Hear "Deep Six", pre-order the standard or deluxe album (featuring three bonus tracks) or the hilarious, limited edition "definitive box" here, and mitigate your expectations.

The Year In Bitch - 2014



How the fuck is the year almost over?
*sigh*
We're all gonna fuckin' die.

Biggest Surprises
Since it's important to be positive, let's just get that out of the way first.
Aphex Twin - Syro
The biggest surprise for me this year was, within the span of just about a month, the announcement, reemergence and release of the "new" Aphex Twin album, Syro. He could have just done an interview or posted to his Facebook page, but fuck that, this is Richard D. James, Electro-Jizz God King. The marketing campaign for Syro utilized a blimp, the AT logo spraypainted all over New York City, and a press release that looked as if it were run three times through Google Translate.
That is how you announce something.
That is how you surprise people.
Thom Yorke - Tomorrow's Modern Boxes
Another fantastic surprise was the out-of-nowhere release of Thom Yorke's stellar Tomorrow's Modern Boxes, a direct follow up to his 2006 solo effort, The Eraser. Yorke said the whole point of the release was to see if people could "get their heads around" using BitTorrent's "pay-gate" system for music delivery. Whether or not it worked, the resulting album feels a lot less like an experiment than I was expecting; it's rich, varied, and stands up after multiple listens.
Maxi Bacon - Maci Baxon
The discovery of the existence of Maxi Bacon.
But more on that later.
Tori Amos - Unrepentant Geraldines
Finally, the most pleasant surprise, which wasn't, technically speaking, a surprise, was how much I enjoyed the new Tori Amos album, Unrepentant Geraldines. I've been a fan of her and her fire for years, but, during the mid-2000's until the beginning of this decade, when she started recording with a full orchestra and released the epic, complex tapestry that is Night of Hunters, I've felt indifferent towards her work. Her decision to start working with an orchestra reinvigorated her music and gave it new dimension, so, when she announced that her newest album would be a return to tradition recording, I became very worried. As it turned out, I had no reason to be; Geraldines might be her best album in fifteen years.
Nothing else surprised me this year.

2014 LIVE
I saw so many fucking shows this year (for me)...this has taught me one thing: I'm getting too old/bored/fed up with showing up hours early and listening to assholes to do GA anymore. Might be time to start looking into paying people to stand in line for me. Because, I, too, am an asshole. And a whiny one at that.
I had the good fortune to see three of my five favorite bands live this year: BeckEels and Nine Inch Nails, as well as St. VincentMother FeatherTV on the RadioDamon Albarn and Tori Amos.
I only usually see bands with whose music I am intimately familiar. Mainly because, if I haven't heard the song before, hearing it for the first time live is silly, as no PA I have ever encountered is good enough for a neophyte to make out the lyrics, also, I'm too persnickety to just "enjoy the music", so I end up standing there the whole time wishing I knew what the fuck the people on the stage were trying to tell me. This factor was the downfall of both TV on the Radio and Damon Albarn. Both shows were tremendous, but, more often than not I was just waiting for the part of the song that I knew and/or hoping I'd be better acquainted with whatever was coming next.
Tori was...a force of nature. This had been the first time I'd seen her in about fifteen years and, aside from not being savvy to the majority of the set, I loved it; it was like going to a place of worship and finding that your deity of choice just happened to be playing piano that night. Her fans though...I'm a firm believer that the only problem with the place I live, and, indeed, where everyone lives are the people living there. I fucking hate people and go out of my way to not be counted among them, hence why I always travel with huge headphones clamping the sides of my face. Tori may love her fans, but the twats to the left, texting and tweeting how awesome it was to see Tori Amos live! OMG! LOLLERSKATES! ROFLPUKE! and the massive king cunt to my right who was singing in broken English, louder than Tori's amplified voice along with every song he knew and discussing...Christ knows what, I don't speak Catalan...during those that he did not....those "people" deserved maiming, at the very least.
I told you I was too old for things.
I've seen Eels almost ten times and every time has been different, with its own highs and lows. While this was a great show, rife with songs I'd never heard performed live...I couldn't help but feel like something was missing and, at this moment, I'm having trouble really recalling it to memory. This probably has more to do with this year's The Cautionary Tales of Mark Oliver Everett than anything else. More on that later. I do recall that the opening, E coming out and singing "When You Wish Upon A Star", almost immediately brought me to tears. So at least that's still happening.
Out of these, the best live experience comes down to a tie between St. Vincent (who I had never seen live* but will always see live from this point on) and Beck, who I have seen a handful of times. St. Vincent's Digital Witness tour was so perfectly rehearsed and choreographed, and Annie Clark's presence so vastly different throughout its ninety minute span that I can't imagine anyone seeing this show and not adding it to the top of their list. It was actually awe inspiring.
But Beck...come on...he's the second funkiest white man alive! Plus, all of the Morning Phase material sounded fantastic and he played both "Sexx Laws" and "Debra"! Shit, this is tough... You know what? Fuck it, my favorite live experience this year goes to Mother Feather, whom I saw on my birthday with my best friend, at the Bowery Ballroom. The blistering pop cock rock that exploding on my face that night has yet to be recreated by either Annie Clark or Beck Hansen.
Way to go, ladies.

Biggest Disappointments
Most of my disappointments this year have to do with Trent Reznor.
Now, before I start venting my spleen, there's something you should know: Trent Reznor might be my favorite artist, so, when I bitch the hardest about him, it's because I know he's capable of so much more. Like a father...I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed.
Although I was genuinely fucking livid after my Nine Inch Nails touring experience this year. I had spent upwards of four hundred dollars (merch, tickets, transportation etc.) to see NIN twice in a row, as Reznor has always tried to keep live shows varied from night to night, because, for as humble as he appears to be, he is aware of how slavishly dedicated a lot of his fans are. Through some strange twist of fuck, both shows were identical. This, on its own, would have been a cockslap, but, some time soon after that second identical show ground to a close, a picture of that evening's original set list appeared...with several different songs. What happened? No one knows. All we have is the anger.
Then, there's the Gone Girl score that Reznor and Atticus Ross released earlier this year. As I've spewed piss about this for months already, I'll cut to the chase: I believe that Reznor should have either done that final leg of his tour or worked on this score. I think, by committing himself to both, that both were of a lower quality than they could have and should have been. Hey, people do it all the time, and, no matter how many Nine Inch Nails posters I have on my walls, Trent Reznor is still a person.
And, our last stop on the Trent Reznor 2014 Monorail of Sadness: the deluxe reissue of The Fragile...or, rather, the motherfucking, ballshitting continued lack thereof. This year was the fifteenth anniversary of Nine Inch Nails' The Fragile, the unequalled, two disc opus which featured some of their most disparate and fascinating music to date...and the reissue, which Reznor has been teasing for almost ten fucking years, was nowhere to be seen. In my mind, now addled with desire and time, this reissue (replete with a 5.1 mix, unreleased music, and a Blowjob Machine**) will not only reinvigorate my love for this album and this band...but it will also cure cancer.
Who's overreacting?
Fuck you.
Onto Eels. While I wouldn't call The Cautionary Tales of Mark Oliver Everett a disappointment exactly, the fact that it paled in comparison (for me, always for me) to last year's Wonderful, Glorious combined with the fact that Damon Albarn dropped his cold and lonely gem, Everyday Robots around the same time...well, it just got overshadowed. There's some genuinely great stuff on there, and, of course, I'm going to revisit it, but, just as with Hombre Lobo, nothing was going to live up to the pure, tear streaked brilliance of Blinking Lights and Other Revelations. No worries though, we'll see you soon, E.
The Bests! Yeah, The Bests!
Okay, in retrospect, maybe crafting a 2000+ word summation of my personal musical experiences in 2014 was a bit presumptuous. You don't know who I am and, therefore, why would you give even the slightest fuck about my opinion of stuff? Why am I even writing this?! Do you know how many tweets 2000 words is? Fuck!
So, I'm just going to get right to it. 
I was going to nominate*** Beck's Morning Phase as my favorite album of the year, but it's going to have to be St. Vincent's self titled release. While Morning Phase is an absolutely amazing second movement to the symphony he started over a decade ago with Sea Change, it's nothing new, just an evolution (a brilliant and glimmering evolution that emcompasses everything right about music), whereas Clark's St. Vincent just defies description. If you haven't heard it, you're missing out on what makes music exciting and vital.
Along with those two, I'm going to toss out Damon Albarn's solo debut, Everyday Robots, Yorke's Tomorrow's Modern BoxesTV on the Radio's Seeds (although I've only had that for a month or so) and...Maxi Bacon's Maci Baxon.
I've been a fan of Albarn, St. Vincent, Beck and TV on the Radio long enough to know what to expect, in a general sense. All of those artists are capable of surprising me, but in a predictable way, if you dig. Beck is going to have some super funk, or, depending on the type of hat he's wearing at the moment, some soulful, bluesey folk, perhaps accompanied by gorgeous strings, conducted by his father. Albarn is going to have something doleful or faux doleful, most likely underscored by some African beats. St. Vincent is going to play her blizzed out styrofoam guitar and sing with barely restrained chaos and panic in her voice. But Maxi Bacon...these guys...surprised me. I did not know this sort of thing even existed. Do I sound like a thirteen year old boy who has just discovered masturbation? Maybe. But it doesn't change how awesome orgasms are.  
Hopes & Fears for 2015
What do you fucking think? I want the goddamn Fragile reissue.
You fuck.
And there you have it.
Sorry to have bothered you.
Have a nice day.

Paul Guyet is an actor and writer living in New York City. He's violently opinionated and has a penchant for hyperbole, which makes him perfect for music journalism. He also has an affinity for talking about himself in the third person. He has a podcast, a website and a twitter, but he doesn't think he's better than you.
* I saw her with David Byrne when they toured for Love This Giant, but that doesn't count.
** Blowjob Machine not yet confirmed.
*** Oooh, nominate! Look at me, I'm Baron Von Fancyman, nominating folks for things!

12.04.2014

A review of TV On The Radio's "Seeds"





















The fourth album from the brilliant, intricate, living, breathing mysteries that comprise TV On The Radio is light and dark and life and death and smiling in the rain and flying. Endless flying.

Seeds takes flight with the opening of "Quartz", sprinting from a mountain top and leaping into the clear, blue sky with Tunde Adebimpe howling, "how much do I love you?", and doesn't land...ever. This whole album soars, at different heights and at various times of day, borne aloft by their energy and voices, from start to finish. 

The fuzz must be mentioned: that great, synthy, 80's VHS fuzz on "Careful You", "Love Stained" and the title track; like warm, static-y hugs. Also, the unbridled, explosive energy of "Lazerray"*, the joyful, rocketing elation of "Ride",  which has a deceptively somber and reflective intro, the dark shimmer of their fantastic first single, "Happy Idiot"**, the thudding, syrupy throb of "Love Stained", the uplifting penultimate anthem, "Trouble" and, finally, the resolutely optimistic closer, "Seeds". Never before has optimism and acceptance been better exemplified in a lyric: "rain comes down, like it always does, but this time, I've got seeds on ground". Not just optimism but the plan to turn something that could be destructive into something beneficial. It's overwhelming, too bright to look at.

Aside from "Test Pilot" and "Winter", both of which serve to drag things down around them (the former with its lethargic, limping beat, the latter with its unending and annoying 90's cock rock guitar riff), this might be my favorite TVOTR album. It's certainly their most accessible, and yet, it still manages to be a challenging and engaging listen. Seeds makes more sense, but it's still active listening, there's always too much going on for this to be background music, a huge compliment when the majority of music out there is so quickly processed and forgotten.

I also have to take a moment and give praise to the album art, something, in this digital age of disposable and intangible music never mind my grumping, I'm old. The slipcover, when combined with the art in the liner notes, functions as a Moire pattern. I won't spoil the surprise, but this is, hands down, the most inventive use for album art I've seen since Marilyn Manson's Mechanical Animals. Way to give a shit, you guys.   

It's hard to focus on the overabundance of positivity and optimism on Seeds without addressing the passing of the band's long-time member, Gerard Smith. I can't help but wonder if his death spurred this deluge of hope and light, something like a push back against the horrible tragedy they underwent, spitting in the reaper's face.

"I think I love you / and it's starting to show"
"Everything's alright / just let me be your darling"
"Think about the future / I know it's mine / look to the sky / it's time to ride"

The rain might be coming down on Seeds, but the sun is out.

P.S. I (finally) had a chance to see TVOTR live and did so on the 18th of November at the Apollo Theater. Review here on SoundBlab.





* I want Futurama to come back solely to do a music video for this song.

** And what a strange music video to accompany it...

12.01.2014

End of the Month Music Bitchfest - November 2014

They Might Be Giants

The biggest bit of news this month, I suppose, was the announcement of and offerings in next year's They Might Be Giants' Instant Fan Club, although, when set against their 2012 IFC, they pale in comparison. 52 new songs* (one arriving in your inbox every Tuesday of the year), their new adult and kids albums (plus a disc of any of those 52 songs not included on either album), two tickets to any TMBG show, a live DVD, t-shirt, balsa wood glider (?), and some "super secret surprises". Not a bad deal for a hundred bucks, but, again, when stacked up against the 2012 offerings...I cannot imagine anything will ever be as cocksmackingly amazing as receiving a They Might Be Giants song...featuring one's own name.
The next membership level (the Super President level) includes all the above stuff but with some vinyl thrown in along with a commemorative coin and your name in the liner notes of somethingorother. Not really worth the $250.
Yes, I've already signed up.
And you can too, for another few days, anyway.


Cake

CAKE HAS NEW SHIRTS, Y'ALL!!!


Reviews this month include delightfully-energetic-and-fresh-yet-perfectly-reminiscent-of-the-best-aspects-of-90's-female-fronted pop-punk Brooklynites, Chumped, with their debut album, Teenage Retirement, the latest from gauzy synth king, Daniel Woolhouse (AKA Deptford Goth), Songs, and the newest squirt of shit from "ambient sound artist", Dirty Beaches, Stateless. As it so happens, this is Dirty Beaches' (Alex Hungtai to those who feel silly calling a grown man "Dirty Beaches") final album. I am comforted by this fact and wish him well as long as he stays the fuck away from any and all things that could even be considered a musical instrument until the day he dies.

And, god fucking damn it, I fucking pre-ordered the motherfucking new fucking piece of dribbly shit Marilyn Manson album.
FUCK.
No, I didn't get punched in the face by Manson's laughing cock, I fell down some stairs.
FUCK.

Coming soon (yet also wildly overdue) are my reviews of the brand new, utterly spectacular TV On The Radio album, Seeds, as well as their show at the Apollo Theater.

I CANNOT BELIEVE I PRE-ORDERED THE FUCKING THING! "VOTE WITH YOUR WALLETS", I CRY, AS I BEND OVER AND TAKE HIS SHIT COCK IN MY ASS WHILE PAYING HIM FOR THE PRIVILEGE.

Leave me alone now. I need to conference call my therapist and priest so they can berate my stupid, consumer-ass ass.





* Although I'm anxious, as the word "new", when it comes to TMBG, can mean a  lot of things...some of them distinctly not new.