End of the Month Music Bitchfest - January 2015

They Might Be Giants
Welcome to the first of, oh, let's say, twelve installations of...

The Dial-A-Song Round-Up!*

Dial-A-Song returned this month with four brand new They Might Be Giants recordings, the first of which is a straight up guitar-centric rocker helmed by Mr. John Linnell. It's called "Erase" and is a fabulous start to this Year of Dial-A-Song. It fits with the age old TMBG trope of pairing bouncy, frenetic music with dark-as-hell lyrics ("when darlings must be murdered/when your heartbreak overwhelms your heart", "think of this as solving problem that should never have occured/please don't call it strangulation, that is such an ugly word", "the skeletons that won't stay down/the mercy kill that can't be drowned"). Such a return to form...it's almost too perfect.

Next, is a mellow, piano-driven track led by Flans called "Madam, I Challenge You To A Duel". At their show on January 25th, where this (and every other DAS song, for that matter) was debuted live, Flansburgh revealed that the genesis of the song came from this YouTube clip of Oliver Reed and Shelley Winters on the Tonight Show back in 1975. I'd like to imagine the number of songs with that origin can be counted on one, giant, foam finger. 

After that, already breaking from form, is a circusy/balladey type thing featuring Corn Mo as the sole vocalist. It's called "No Cops" and tells the story of a group of people who seem to have taken the band and the audience hostage ("we’ve locked all the doors and please understand/we’ve nailed down the latch so meet our demands/in the time that we permit, or else the band will get it"). They then go on to say that "(they) are here to steal your dreams" and then urge us to "listen and comply". This will serve as the new introduction music for TMBG's upcoming world tour.
Obviously. 

And, finally, the crown in this first month's collection, "Music Jail, Part 1 & 2"**.
Part 2 is my favorite and should be yours as well. I'm not even going to explain this, just listen for yourself. Also: how fucking insane is that video?

A wholly excellent offering for TMBG fans for this first month of Dial-A-Song.
It can only get worse from here.

As for that January 25th concert I mentioned earlier...that is to be the first of twelve shows at the Williamsburg Hall of Music that TMBG are having the last Sunday of each month for the entire year. Aside from two or three tracks I could've done without (you can probably guess which ones by now), it was a total blast and I'm looking forward to the rest of my spoiled-rotten-by-They-Might-Be-Giants year. Review of the show can be found here.

Eels
While working on the follow up to The Cautionary Tales Of Mark Oliver Everett, Eels will be releasing a new live album (and concert film), specifically of their performance from June 2014 at the Royal Albert Concert Hall. A little surprised and bummed they didn't put one out for their fantastic 2013 tour, but, knowing E, that's not an impossibility.
Fingers crossed.
Info and pre-orders and stuff here.



In other news, I sifted through some of the "best of" lists from the end of 2014, namely, Rolling Stone's, NPR's, and that of my friend, Will. Most of what I listened to has become a blur except for the following:

• Haley Bonar's The Last War is utterly fucking fantastic (thank you, Will).
• Sia, FKA Twigs and Banks should all tour together and end the evening with a massive, suicide fuck pit.
• Rolling Stone no longer knows anything about music.

The new Manson album, The Pale Emperor, was released earlier this month and I reviewed it. It's the best thing he's done in over a decade, but it's still not very good. One thing I do have to compliment him on is the packaging***; it's minimalist in a way I've never seen from Manson and it's very effective. The requisite photos of Mason are very well shot and tell a story that the album's songs do not. The disc is as close to pure black as one can achieve in this day and age of record label branding, logos and those god damned cocksucking anti-piracy marks****, plus, the front and back of the packaging have a distinct sandpaper texture that I've never encountered before on an album. And, yes, I know that, when one is giving the most praise from an album to its artwork that there's a real fucking problem.
Like I said: it's still not very good.
You can read the full review here.

Finally, it's been over four years since Cake released any new music and, you know what? I'm done with them. So, replacing Cake for the foreseeable future on the End of the Month Music Bitchfest is....

St. Vincent
Annie Clark (who got so many goddamn rightly deserved Best Of The Year awards for her mind-blowing self titled album) will be releasing a deluxe edition of her St. Vincent featuring five bonus tracks; three of them awesome ("Del Rio", "Pieta" (a recent live staple), Sparrow"), two of them not as awesome ("Bad Believer", the Darkside remix of "Digital Witness").
She's expanded her tour again***** and will also be contributing to David Byrne's new project "Contemporary Colors", which, despite both their involvement, is centered around color guard and, therefore, I have no interest in.

And there you are; 2015 is here. I expect those two new TMBG albums, maybe some more Beck, hopefully a fucking peep from Reznor and the announcement of that new Eels by Q3. Otherwise, I'm turning this whole thing around and we're going to try again...until we get it right.





* Shit my dick, am I as bad as ever with titles...

** According to Linnell, it would have been called "Music Jail Parts 1 & 2", except somebody typed the name in wrong.

*** Although I should probably be complimenting the designer who came up with it.

**** LIKE THOSE EVER STOPPED ANYONE FROM PIRATING ANYTHING! AND ANOTHER THING! WHY DO YOU ONLY HAVE THOSE FUCKING ANTI-PIRACY REMINDERS ON THE BLU-RAYS I PURCHASE?! I ALREADY PURCHASED IT! I DIDN'T PIRATE IT, YOU STUPID, USELESS FUCKS!

***** If you missed it the first time, don't make the same asshole idiot mistake again.

A review of They Might Be Giants at the Williamsburg Hall of Music - 1.25.15

Let's begin with the admission that I am completely spoiled. One of my very favorite bands lives within a fifteen mile radius of where I live and, therefore, end up playing a whole lot of shows near me, so I get to see them a whole lot.
That being said: this year, on the last Sunday of every month, They Might Be Giants will have a concert at the Williamsburg Hall of Music...a ten minute cab from my home.
I plan on going to all twelve.
The first of these shows was on January 25th, my birthday.
Another bonus: for the majority of these, there is no opener; doors are at 7, TMBG takes the stage at 8 and plays until just about 10. I showed up less than a half hour before doors and ended up dead center, seven feet from Mr. John Linnell's keyboard.

Now, onto the show: I hadn't seen They Might Be Giants since December of 2013, and I usually find that these shows, the "first in a long time" shows, tend to be something special. TMBG had wrapped up their Nanobots tour at the end of 2013, and, aside from three or four special shows in 2014, had sequestered themselves in the studio, creating two new albums set for release later this year as well as (I assume) the bulk of their 2015 Dial-A-Song offerings.
On the whole, this was a fabulously well-rounded show, featuring a handful of live staples ("Birdhouse In Your Soul", "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)" (featuring the Screaming Space Rock interlude)), some old favorites returning for the first time in a long time ("Spiraling Shape", "Cyclops Rock"), brand new, never-performed-live songs, most from TMBG's recently resurrected Dial-A-Song service ("Erase", "Music Jail, Part 1 & 2"), some newer live staples ("When Will You Die?", "Hey, Mr. DJ, I Thought You Said We Had A Deal"), and, a few tracks I'd prefer to never hear again ("Damn Good Times" (with which they opened), "The Mesopotamians")*.

Standouts included "Cyclops Rock", "Man, It's So Loud In Here" (which I hadn't heard in its pre-Mink Car arrangement since 1999 or so), "We're The Replacements", "Spiraling Shape" and "Call You Mom". Also the banter...always the banter.

Next month is their "First Album Show".





* But, at least the Avatars of They appear to have been retired. They were funny the first five times but then...yeesh...

The Radio Mercury Awards

For the past ten or so years, I've been working as a professional voice actor in New York City (90-95% VO, 5-10% on screen actor).
The majority of VO auditions I go out on are boring, banal and completely lacking the cool/important/effective sound or vibe that the writers/clients want and need so desperately. Every once in a while, a job will come along that is rewarding, challenging, and fun (Speakaboos, Target) but those are exceptions.
Some of the more overused and tired directions these scripts come with are "not-announcery", "conversational", "friendly" and so on. Although these are well known tropes, often it seems like no one is doing anything to change the status quo. How can we make people think of something more interesting? To challenge themselves to write better copy and push their limits?
Offer them money, of course.
So, then there was the Radio Mercury Awards, who give $50,000 dollars to the agency/production company who comes up with the most creative/innovative/entertaining etc. radio ad.*
Anyway, about a month or so ago, my friend and VP of Just Voices, Roger, got in touch with an audition that was pretty much right up my alley: I had to do about a dozen different voices, each one mocking the shitty copy I've been reading for a decade.
I played like a child in the ocean.
I auditioned, felt great about it, and, a day later, booked it.
I got to record in one of my favorite studios in the city (Sound Lounge) and work with some giants of the industry, who I proceeded to impress and delight with my vocals skills and then, on top of all this...I was given money for it.
Long story short: here's the first part of what we shot, enjoy.

Things We Don't Want to Hear in a Radio Ad (Part 1) from Radio Mercury Awards on Vimeo.

* And a bunch of random sums to Best New Agency, Runners Up and so on.

A review of Marilyn Manson's "The Pale Emperor"

My hopes were, admittedly, low as I waded into Marilyn Manson’s 9th studio album, The Pale Emperor. Would it be a sad, wet fart? A leaking bag of liquescent, worm-ridden feces? Something worse? Or…something listenable…maybe even…enjoyable?

The biggest problem with this album is Manson, specifically his voice and his lyrics (except for a tiny handful of tracks). Also, the down-n-dirty thump drums are way, way, way overused, but, aside from those two (arguably, pretty crucial) issues…sweet Christ I cannot believe I’m saying this after so long…this album is not a reeking pit of garbage.
This is a compliment.

Things get off to a genuinely solid start with “Killing Strangers”. Seriously. No bells and whistles, no pointless, droning intros, just some utterly filthy bass and guitar, as well as some percussion that could either be a mud caked maraca or a gun being cocked. Although there is some of that silly, lazy, not-really word play (“this world doesn’t need no opera / we’re here for the operation”), it’s not overly grating. Throw in a really nice eerily moody, sorrowfully melodic outro and, holy shit, you’ve gotten my hopes up, Marilyn…wait, why are you handing me a box of tissues…? And smiling?

Things…depreciate…from this point on until almost the end of the album. For as garbled as his vocals are, one can’t deny that “Cupid Carries A Gun” is a pretty well made song. After that, the closer, “Odds Of Even”, which has some excellent atmospheric layers, ameliorates some of what’s come before it. Like the majority of the tracks on Pale Emperor, it’s too good for Manson’s vocals. There’s some chilling, old school croaking from Manson towards the end, a pleasant throwback for fans.

Along with those three tracks, a few others stand out, mainly (pretty much solely), for their music and not their vocals or lyrics, specifically “Mephistopheles of Los Angeles”, “Warship My Wreck”* and “Slave Only Dreams To Be King”. If you’re keeping count, that six solid tracks of the ten that make up The Pale Emperor. A stunning ratio.

I also need to take a moment and give sincere praise to the one and only clever turn of phrase on the album: in the single, “Deep Six”, a song mentioning Zeus and Narcissus, as well as referring to Icarus, Manson has the lyric (repeated maybe a few times too many) “Eros is sore”…well done, Marilyn. Whether this came from hours of quiet reflection or you seeing the word “sore” quietly reflected in a pool of semen (he’d probably have random pools of semen strewn about his home, yes? He is still the God of Fuck, right?): I am impressed.

But. This one shining example is embedded in a viscous ocean of mung. Some examples: “I don’t want your God and your higher power / I want power to get higher” (“The Devil Beneath My Feet”), “You are what you beat” (“Slave Only Dreams To Be King”), and “You want to know what Zeus said to Narcissus? / ‘You’d better watch yourself’” (“Deep Six”). Ugh. I try not to think too hard about the “meaning” of his lyrics these days, because doing so is like sifting through shit looking for undigested peanuts.
And just as rewarding.

To get off my snark horse for a moment, I did have another real issue; when I listen to this album, I get no sense of who this “pale emperor” is supposed to be. Is it Death? Because nothing on offer really cements that or any other idea. There’s war imagery, talk of guns, God, the Devil, demons, angels; there’s a “King” mentioned in “Slave Only Dreams To Be King” and a line in “Cupid Carries A Gun” referring to Death (“Folks say that I look like Death”), but none of that is the same as constructing a storyline or creating a character. Unlike Antichrist Superstar and, to a lesser extent, Mechanical Animals and Holy Wood, where there was a clear narrative with characters, and a beginning, middle and end, this is just a collection of songs plagued with Thumpy Drums. I’ll fully admit to being drawn in immediately by the title; it’s very evocative, and this lack of depth is the biggest letdown for me, even when stacked next to Manson’s near-useless voice and overwrought lyrics.

There are three things I would say to Manson if he weren’t preoccupied with…I don’t know…filling ravens with cocaine and then slamming them up his ass?…that sounds outlandish and silly enough to be something he’d do, right?

1. Fix your voice. I’m not talking about auto tune or anything along those lines, I’m talking about maybe drinking some water or not singing first thing in the morning or removing all the socks from your mouth before hitting “record”. Vocally, the songs here fall into two categories, for the most part: irascible ranting or groggy mumbling. Sometimes the ranting is groggy, sometimes the mumbling is irascible, but, either way, it’s mostly garbage. Quite frankly, I just can’t understand a lot of what the fuck he’s saying without a lyric sheet in front of me. It’s distracting.
2. Repeating something several times in one three and a half minute song doesn’t make it clever or expose a deeper meaning. In fact, if it’s just barely tolerable the first time, it only gets worse with each repetition. It’s called “diminishing returns”, Marilyn…and I am 100% certain you’ve heard that term a few times in the last decade.
3. Stick with Tyler Bates (guitarist, keyboardist and co-producer on Pale Emperor). While it might not be groundbreaking, the music here is miles better than anything you’ve done (with or without Twiggy) in the past ten years.

Aside from The Golden Age Of Grotesque, released in 2003, this is, shockingly, one of Manson’s best albums, alas, he’s still missing the clarity, focus and fury of his best works. He just doesn’t really have anything to say anymore, nothing we want or need to hear anyway. I’m done expending my energy hoping Marilyn Manson is going to have some sort of renaissance. I think Pale Emperor is the best we can expect from him now, in the same way that thyroid cancer is the best kind of cancer someone can get.

A note on the bonus tracks: all three are acoustic-esque renditions of tracks from the album, namely “Third Day Of A Seven Day Binge” (“Day 3”), “The Mephistopheles of Los Angeles” (“Fated, Faithful, Fatal”), and “Odds Of Even” (“Fall Of The House Of Death”), so, if you’re favorite aspect of those three songs is Manson’s vocals, then the deluxe version of the album is for you.  

* Stupid pun or sloppy spellchecking? You decide!

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: Beck, Eels and Nine Inch Nails, as well as St. Vincent, Mother Feather, TV on the Radio, Damon 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 Boxes, TV 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!

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...

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.

A review of Chumped's "Teenage Retirement"

One thought kept banging around inside my head while listening to this album: Chumped could have scored both Daria and Scott Pilgrim Vs The World at the same time.* 

It's uncanny how these four friends from Brooklyn (Akina Pyle on lead vocals and guitar, Dan on drums, Doug on bass, and Drew on guitar**) manage to sound like everything good about female-fronted bands from the 90's, while, at the same moment, sound fresh and pertinent in today's toilety music scene. Pyle's vocals feel clear and declarative without being shrill or whiny, a thin line with female vocals in punk and an achievement worth nothing when it's pulled off.

Teenage Retirement, the band's first LP, is tight and bright, 12 tracks, 35 minutes. I like that math. "Hot 97 Summer Jam" is almost too 90's to believe it's not some forgotten b-side that just slipped past everyone's regard until just now, "Songs About Boats" is the one on which Bryan Lee O'Malley should base the next volume of Scott Pilgrim, and "Anywhere But Here", but for the vocals, sounds so much like Weezer that I could see YouTube's shitty anti-infringement software blocking it based on copyright grounds. I'm not really saying anything overly specific about these songs because they're all excellent bricks in an incredibly well-crafted wall of warm, nostalgic yet relevant pop punk. Except one. While everything else sounds like the best aspects of the 90's, "Coffee" sounds like a Blink-182 pastiche. It's short and quickly blotted from the listener's memory by the following song, but it's still there. Honestly, if it weren't for the guy's vocals, it would be great. The reason I'm focusing on this so much is that it's the only problem I really had with the album.

After a twenty five minute assault of BPMs, things wrap up with "The Pains Of Being" and "Old And Tired"; the former feels like pushing your way off a crowded subway: as the crowd disperses onto the platform, you get a chance to actually fill your lungs with air, get lost in your thoughts, get away from the other assholes penning you in, while the latter feels like emerging from the dark and dingy underground into hard, city sunlight. There are a few songs here featuring lyrics about trains: missing them, waiting for them, etc., and it all feels appropriate. Not only would I say this is music to be listened to on a subway, but, the album itself is a subway. There's a bright, silvery note that appears about thirteen seconds into the album that shines throughout. Bright and silvery like the outside of a subway car, which makes perfect sense, because, like a subway, the album is driving, a bit repetitive and always moving...plus, it's about 35 minutes, which is the exact length of time you'll have to wait for a fucking G train on the weekend if you've just missed one.***
If you miss the 90's and a sense of sincerity in music, you should probably listen to Teenage Retirement ...while riding the subway.

* Behold! My will is manifest as Chumped plays "Threshold" by Sex Bob-Omb!

** Fuck Drew, though.

*** Apologies to anyone reading this who is not from Brooklyn.

A review of Deptford Goth's "Songs"

Time, again, to bathe in the sullen sunlight of Daniel Woolhouse's gauzy synth forests.

Listening to Deptford Goth (the aforementioned Mr. Woolhouse) is akin to being embraced by a warm ghost. He sounds like the younger, softer brother of James Blake. There is more sophistication here, and less lyrics about fuckin'. Don't misunderstand; Daniel will fuck you, he'll just cuddle and talk and, maybe, weep afterwards. Blake might buy you dinner.
Might.

I immensely enjoyed the first DG album, Life After Defo*, and, quite frankly, Songs** blows it away.
Those that shimmer the brightest and have the most impact include "Do Exist", a sparse and delicate hymn, utilizing the repetition of the gentle sobriquet "my love", as well as the phrase "fear's gonna let you go" to create a gorgeous emotional resonance, "We Symbolise", which features an absolutely fantastic pairing of deep piano and Woolhouse's high, sweet voice, "A Circle", and "Near To A River", which nearly brought me to tears with Woolhouse's persistent pleas to "lift (his) body up" and "make (him) kind". The album closes with "A Shelter, A Weapon", a perfect ending to this rolling sunrise.

On the whole, Songs is a lot brighter, both sonically and lyrically, than Life After Defo, reaching new heights of warmth with "Codes", with its friendly, lumbering beat, like a child's imaginary friend coming in to play. While it does lack the emotional nuances of his first album because of its overabundance of light, is that so bad? There's enough darkness in our everyday lives, and, thanks to Woolhouse, we can get a little respite here, with Songs. Listen to this in the dark, cry, then feel better and move on.

* My review of which can be found here.

** Kudos on the most boldly bland album title I've heard in years.

A review of Dirty Beaches' "Stateless"

My first experience with Dirty Beaches...didn't turn out so great.* I'm going to go ahead and blame Alex Hungtai (aka Dirty Beaches), but I promised myself before I heard a note of the new album, Stateless, that I would give him a fair shake. Think of it this way: I'm in a place where literally anything he does will be a massive improvement.

Unless he really fucked it up this time round.

Stateless consists of four tracks, totaling forty two minutes.
Not off to a great start, man.

"Displaced"

Hypnotic, stammering saxophone.
For seven and a half minutes.
Far more interesting than anything I've heard from DB; frantic, menacing. Soundtrack to an ant hill or bee hive...of course it would be far more interesting still with something else to it.
Experimental in a good way: non-dynamic dynamism.

"Stateless"

Biblical horns signify the beginning procession of a city-long march. Echoing forever. Almost liquid, a river of melted down brass bells, in which the listener is drowning.
Reverb + delay = eternity.
This was cool for about four minutes...the last seven and a half? Not as much.
If "Displaced" is like being in the rain, "Stateless" is like looking at a picture of the rain.

"Pacific Ocean"

Do you remember Meredith? From the Water Park OST? Well, she brought her cat, Dingles, with her on this visit, and, while he certainly is a cute little nipper, boy, does that spirited scamp like to climb on studio equipment!
"No, Dingles! No!"
"Well, I guess we'll have to give him a producer's credit!"
*laughter*

"Time Washes Away Everything"

There is a joke here about this song washing away my patience that I'm not going to make.
The final track has a very strong A Winged Victory For The Sullen vibe to it, only, less structured...did you get that? Less structured than A Winged Victory For The Sullen.** Or, maybe, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, but with less effort and skill.
This track teases you...you think it's over, that you've made it and can now listen to...anything! Andy Gibb, The Drugs, Van Halen, Taylor Swift, MC 900 Ft. Jesus, anything that is not Dirty Beaches!
But then!
Ha! You silly bastard! You've still got eight minutes of this left! Bwa hah! Fool!

Is Stateless as drab as the Water Park OST? No, honestly, I can't think of anything that is...death, perhaps? But, less awful, droney "ambient music" is still a measurable quantity of awful, droney "ambient music".
Put this album on, then leave the house.





* This will really help with context. You know, if you like that sort of thing.

** This will only have impact if you know who A Winged Victory For The Sullen are. For that, I am heartily sorry.