Monday, April 23, 2018

Tonight I will avoid writing my dissertation

I've been working on my dissertation, an experience I'm excited about, aiming to base my career on, and loathe to ever repeat.  Funny how that works.

Anyhow, I've been listening to Damien Jurado's oeuvre, since it sets a good background tone for writing.  I know his songs well, so I can fill the empty room while not being fully distracted by the music.  It's always a struggle for me to find that perfect balance of intrusive enough to tune out all my errant non-dissertation thoughts, but not so intrusive that I'm distracted.  The last couple days, that's been Damien Jurado.

But, motherfucker, this song again.

Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Hear her voice as it's rolling and ringing through me

What a weird album.  It's kind of hard to believe that an album that mentions semen so many times could be doing so out of necessity.  It's kind of hard to believe that a nasal voice, jangly guitar, and trumpets could produce something so inherently sad.  It's really hard to believe that an album proclaimed to be the spiritual and artistic response of Jeff Mangum's reading "The Diary of a Young Girl" actually feels spiritual and artistic.  It's certainly hard to believe that something that feels so sloppy on the surface could be so incredibly fucking precise.

This album turns 20 this year and I'm still not quite sure what it is.  Take this stanza from "Oh Comely":
Oh comely, all of your friends are letting you blow
Bristling and ugly, bursting with fruits falling out from the holes
Of some pretty, bright, and bubbly friend
You could need to say comforting things in your ear
But oh comely, there isn't such one friend that you could find here
Standing next to me, he's only my enemy
I'll crush him with everything I own.
The stanza, like the song itself, starts off somewhere in the intersection of sexuality and innocence, but keeps tiptoeing through haunting imagery, ultimately drawing back on the Anne Frank imagery.  There's not a clarity of purpose to the lyrics, but there's certainly an emotional confusion, almost a battle of perspectives, occurring throughout.  It's hard from reading to see how such lyrics could be sung with emotion, but here we get Magnum's vocal duality - not a traditionally strong voice, but a superb tonality.  His battle, I perceive, is between the need to maintain a monotone matter-of-factness and the insuppressible meaning that ultimately forces its way out at the end of each sentence.  It's as if his voice is the light, the truth, the innocence trying to break from his knowledge of mortal realities.  The lyrics, the music, and the vocals are all portraying a child's perception of a dark world.

Age, maturity, and time have perhaps diminished the album's impact on me, but they've also given me some degree of appreciation, if for no other reason than that in the past 20 years, no other band has ever recreated all its parts.  Sure, you get your watered down fantasy bands - your Okkervil Rivers, for example.  A few bands have captured the sound, but not the lyrics.  Or the lyrics, but not the depth.  Given the complexity of the sound, we could maybe make a comparison to Brian Wilson, but that feels a somewhat hollow comparison.

I don't know how to end this.  I've just been listening to this a lot again and have been reading the lyrics and their interpretations on  I subsequently found myself in this hole.  What's with all the flowers?  "Semen stains the mountaintops"?  Are Jeff's words his own or those of an interpreter character?  Is Jeff the two-headed boy?  Why do these songs have multiple parts?  Are they even different songs then??

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

Good songs on bad albums

Because I'm of a certain era, I fucking love Jets to Brazil.  It's Blake Schwarzenbach's (Jawbreaker) grown-up indie band.  It's also his dad's classic rock band, his Neil Diamond band, his spacey drug-fueled afternoon band.  It's a lot of things.

When they first came together, it was all about Blake's new band, man.  A bunch of people got pissed because it wasn't Unfun pt. 2, but like most bands with cult followings, we can understand if the new band's target demographic is a little different.  Artists like to art in new and exciting ways.

They came out with an album Orange Rhyming Dictionary, and that title says a lot about it.  Not in some pretentious way, but in that way where a high school band has a real shit name but somehow put together one great song.  That's this album, but it's maybe 4 songs.  Some songs were just so blandly rock fueled in a way that was nearly an admonishment of Jawbreaker.  Other songs were so fucking Jawbreaker people wondered if they were written for that never-recorded final album.  It's hard to imagine I Typed for Miles being for anything other than a Jawbreaker album.  Generally, the album is inconsistent, with some pointed, angular rock songs and some rolling dark rock, capped by a folk song.

Their second album came out some years later and it just sucks.  People are open to their opinions, sure, but guh.  What a bland writing-a-school-report-on-a-Sunday-afternoon album this album is.  It starts off with a song called You're Having the Time of My Life and I'm already asleep.  Don't get me wrong, there's a massive aesthetic appeal to this album - it's technically proficient, a very grown-up album.  It's just that it sounds like the album Blake felt like he should be doing, rather than the album he should have been making.  It doesn't sound forced, it just sounds languid with really cliche pop moments.  Lyrically, sure, Blake's always had that down, but even his words just sound boring.  The album ends with a slow-build song called, what, Orange Rhyming Dictionary?  What?  Like the first album?  A holdover?  Title song didn't make the cut?  It's a decent song, but whatever.  Funny thing is, as fucking boring as this album is, it's nice to have on in the background.  It's a lazy afternoon.  It's a writing-a-school-report-on-a-Sunday-afternoon album, right, so it comes with all that entails.  It's fall and I'm 12 and it's cool outside and other kids are playing football but I'm at my warm desk sitting in a sunbeam.  It's boring, but familiar, like a hug from your racist grandmother.  I won't ask for it, but it's kind of nice when you're there.

Third album comes around and people seem to hate it.  I'm indifferent.  Having been innoculated to lazy Blake, this album slipped away like a one-hit wonder's third album.  I mean, yeah, it's fine.  A little more solidly built, a little exploratory in a way Blake's projects had never done.  Wish List is pretty catchy and Rocket Boy was the first thing that came to mind when 45 started talking shit on North Korea.  As a whole, though, this album?  Muh.

I was working on an article about child abuse and realized I'd been listening to Jets to Brazil on repeat most of the day.  It was perfect for writing.  That doesn't make them a great band, or their albums great albums, because they were good as writing-about-child-abuse music and that's not often a great sign.  Generally, a good writing album is inoffensive, familiar, bland, and a little upbeat.  That's these albums, hooboy.

In case it's not clear (heh), I fucking love Jets to Brazil because I'm 36, started listening to them half my life ago, first saw them when I was 21 and all mushy and shit, have heard Chinatown 10,000 times and love Jawbreaker more than you loved your first dog.  I think Sweet Avenue is one of the single best songs ever written in the history of music.  I've let out more rage to I Typed for Miles than an otherwise mentally healthy person should have.

I just dislike about 70% of their songs.

Sunday, January 21, 2018

You want me to read TWO things?

I got this on my Google Music feed.  It's suggesting albums, since I like the band Glossary and have listened to them a bunch on Music and Youtube.  I know a few of these - Cory Branan, Two Cow Garage, Joey Kneiser, but am not familiar with the others.  These are country-ish bands, ones that I would certainly put in the realm of modern Americana.  If you've experienced a lazy summer day in the States, you could probably get down with any of these.

What I was surprised about were the themes present here in these album covers.  Cory Branan's 80s clothed-in-the-tub album cover aside, two feature dilapidated rural housing (and one run down motel), three have children in some sort of rustic American dress (I'd argue shirtless and jeans is the most American childhood dress ever, even more than the kid literally draped in the American flag) and a solid 80% are in either black or white or some sepia shade.  From a marketing perspective, if I was targeting the run-down America backwater old-timey memory of childhood, it'd look like this, too.

Well, good for them, because it worked.  This Lauderdale album sounds like the Drive-by Truckers and it's great.  It'll wear out its welcome, certainly, but at least I have some other sepia albums to wander into.  Thanks, Google, for finding me bands I like that sound like other bands I like and yet wouldn't have heard of, if not for your crazy algorithm of truth.

I'm now wondering if Google can do some sort of social engineering and filter some of this good stuff into people's Kenny Chesney-or-whoever-the-fuck-is-on-the-radio stations playing that version of country that's really just sloppy pop with twang and stereotypes.  I just heard this band and song for the very first time, but tell me this isn't ten times better than any song on the 'country' radio stations:


On another note, it's been 14 years since Hot Snakes put out an album?  Is that right?  As with most of Hot Snakes, I'm not sure I'm digging this, but I love it in principle.  Other new releases from bands I'd forgotten about, like Yo La Tengo, The Decemberists, The Go Team, Calexico, the Shins.  Think there's an Okkervil River in there, too.  What is this, 2003?