Because you've blown them away. Three out of three ain't bad, babydolls. I was a little nervous because you graced the covers of Nylon magazine and was a featured artist on Myspace. Nope. The grit is still there. The sexiness is still there. The awesomeness is still there. I love this new album. I want to make silly, sweet love to it.
Females in the drone/experimental/weirdness genre are automatic rules of the world. I went to so many stores Saturday trying to find Valet's newest album, Naked Acid, only to find out it drops tomorrow. I wept. Until, of course, I get it tomorrow. Shares the Kranky Records label with fellow weirdness/drone/awesomeness/experimental brother Bradford Cox of Atlas Sound and Deerhunter. Can't go wrong with that. Kranky's the new Jagjaguwar.
Greatest.Diss.Song.Ever. Know why this diss song is so great? Because Jay-Z isn't that great a rapper. Allright, before I get stones thrown at me, lemme explain. You've got your great flowers, and you've got your great wordsmiths. You've got your great singers, and you've got your great voices. Very fine lines. Anyway, Shawn Carter falls in the "great wordsmiths" categories. He can't ride the beat that well, but what he's saying is so powerful that you don't even bother to get technical when you listen to 'em. Shit, Jimi Hendrix couldn't read a lick of music, according to Miles Davis who said so in a Hendrix biography, 'Scuse Me While I Kiss The Sky.
Anyway, so I didn't respect Jay-Z as much as I do now until he dissed Mobb Deep and Nas in The Blueprint's "Takeover." Nas did allright with his semi-entertaining "Ether," but Jay-Z went personal and did the most damage, at least to me. He got down. He took it to the heart. And even though Nas said some shit too, as I mentioned, it doesn't matter, because Jay-Z is still relevant without he and Beyoncé showing up at an award show with the word "Nigger" written on their tees and jackets.
I've mentioned before that Jimi Hendrix, along with Isaac Brock as far as current musicians goes, is my all-time guy. My dude. My soul mate from another lifetime. Well, just about everything that is my favorite was done by him. My favorite song about life, favorite song about afterlife, favorite song about the stars, favorite song about drugs, favorite song about relationships, favorite song about love, etc.
So my favorite song to listen to that captures love so gently, perfectly, is "May This Be Love." One of my all-time favorite scenes from a movie is from Singles where Campbell Scott and Kyra Sedgewick are hanging out for the first time and they're going through Scott's records he collected during his DJ days and he puts on "May This Be Love" and Sedgewick goes, "Ohhhh, I LOVE this song!" And Scott looks at her as if he finally figured out what it feels like to be in love.
I know what you're thinking--for someone who embraces being single most of the time, I sure do talk about love so adoringly. Yeah, true. To be honest, I'm full of shit. Disregard everything I said in the previous post ('cept the part about Valentine's Day--I still think it's a crock of shit).
I realized such a thought last night. And I must say, every year, that has been an interesting feat for me. I know, I know, everyone who is single or who isn't a typical female gripe about the lameness that is Valentine's Day, but frankly, I am really glad that I never had to deal with it. Not to say that I'll never have a bf during the holiday, just that I really find it odd that this is an actual holiday that people stress about. A dude at work today was talking about how he's stressed about it. Call me a natural single-ton, but that's just one thing I can't ever see myself stressing about.
But this is coming from someone who is a plant, or, in other words, asexual. Actually, no, wait...
Anyway, I will say I'm looking forward to Valentine's Day for once in my life. Liars are coming to town, and mama's got all the excitement in the world for 'em.
Whenever I express my love for YLT, I'm only speaking of them circa Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out. That album has some dream pop gems, including its intro track, "Everyday," one of the finest examples of experimental dream pop that actually isn't done by Stereolab.
This is the type of song you play in the background after you and your friends just got back from a crazy night of dancing and coming over to the crib to wind down and stay up until 7 a.m. talking. It's the kind of song that evokes trips to memory lane, remembering when you first heard this song and how it made you feel. Me, I first heard it Spring 2005 while walking to class and it was playing on my iPod. I literally stopped in my tracks and was thinking, "What the fuck is this song and why do I want to skip class just to listen to it all day?"
It's simply one of those songs, over six minutes of beauty.
I got nothing. The only thing that's somewhat newsworthy is last night's Grammys, and that was a huge snorefest. Kanye's performance was the only phenomenal performance, which was good. I love Feist to death, but her performance was way subdued.
Oh, Missy Elliott, how you make me move, girl! I've been a fan of her since her Sista days. She takes it back to when you know an album is good when the singles are hot. Here's the the best female in the hip-hop AND R&B game.
Lemme just tell it to ya straight--Jimi Hendrix and Isaac Brock are compacted tightly into my heart valves, and that's because everything they have ever written has hit me there directly. I've done my fair share of trying to "open" people's eyes and forcing them to listen to their stuff, but it's no use, because there are certain bands you really cannot express how you feel about them with just words. Honestly, I've had drafts on this here blog to discuss the illustrated history of Hendrix and Modest Mouse, but I realized how hard it would be for me to do that, not to mention how long the damn entry would be.
So I've given up on that, and all I do is just mention them briefly, as in, play one song from 'em and then keep it moving.
I was first exposed to Italian psych-rockers Jennifer Gentle while browsing some records at Wax 'n Facts and they were playing the promo copy of their June release Midnight Room. It was one of those rare moments when I approach the clerks and ask, "Who is this?!" And they proudly smile and told me who it was. It was March at the time, which meant I had to wait three more months to have the full listening pleasure.
By the time that I bought it, I was sure everyone was gonna mutter their names any chance they got to spread the love, but strangely, that has not happened. They even got a deal in 2004 with the grandmother of all indie labels, Sub Pop, but still got nothing.
But then there's the influences: Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd, Can and Captain Beefheart, to name a few. All three bands that no one appreciated until years later. Maybe that'll be the case for Jennifer Gentle, though that's unfortunate, because people need to know about them now.
That's a great thing, though, because that leaves musicians freer range to be themselves, and what Jennifer Gentle is doing is some straight up psychedelic garage gritty rock, man. Fasolo sounds like a mixture of Marc Bolan via electric T.Rex era and Ziggy Stardust David Bowie. Their first three albums were recorded in lead singer's Marco Fasolo's basement. They don't fuck around.
Kings of Convenience are the male equivalent to Feist, so it'd only make sense for them to pay homage to the woman they adore and collaborated with on their 2004 album, Riot on An Empty Street.
Because nothing makes me more excited than seeing a bunch of squirrelly white dudes trying to sound Africana and get famous for that reason.
Then again, good music is good music. My homeboy Christian clowned me today asking if I bought their album, but then said,"Or are you gonna protest because you don't want to do that kind of thing?" Which is true, I usually protest a Vampire Weekend-esque band. But hey, I can't protest before I give the cats a listen, right? And shockingly, I wasn't anti- it. I tried to be, but then my roommate Eric made a good point by saying, "I like their direction. I could definitely see 'em live. This is like the Graceland for hipsters."
And after listening to some more tracks, I agree. Shit's not bad.
Remember this chick? No? OK, let's refresh yer memory:
Ain't that some shit? She showed a lil gully-ness with that side slick haircut and shaking her hips a little bit in videos, but now she's all "Fuck you, I'm the baddest bitch" mentality. Like so:
Look at that picture. I wish I was old enough to be hanging out with these cats circa 1996.
I feel like I'm a Bob Dylan fan whenever I tell some folks about my strong love for S-K. They'll say, "Ugh, I hate her whiney voice. And ugh, their guitar riffs are so simplistic, it sounds like a kindergartener playing." And I'm like, "Hey, whatever, dude, they're fantastic." Not that I'm comparing them to the apparent god that Dylan is, but still.
Anyway, sometimes you just need to rock out and dance along their groovy beats. I love Corin Tucker's vocals--because, what have I said in the last few posts? The horrible the vocals are, the more I love 'em. And what I even love about Sleater-Kinney's sound is Carrie Brownstein backs Tucker up with sweet, innocent and melodic vocals, meanwhile shredding the guitar in cock-rock fashion. It was hard for me to listen to their studio albums for the longest after seeing them in live action. And Janet Weiss completes the band with her fast-paced drumming. They complete each other--awww.
As you can see, it's hard to actually describe the true essence of the Olympia via Portland trio. I still cannot put a finger on why I feel that S-K are an essential collection to my favorite bands, but they are. Is it their energy? Possibly. Do I like their lyrics? Of course. Is it the music as a whole? Could be. If anything, I'd say I loved them simply for the fact that I could tell just by listening to their music that they were having a wonderful time in the studio. It just didn't seem as if they half-assed anything. And once again, who knew they would be so Sabbath-esque when they came out with The Woods in 2005?
Whatever the case may be, I sure as hell miss it. It's been a while since I've loved a band just because.
Stumbled across it while looking for mp3s off Xiu Xiu's new album, and my jaws dropped immediately. This song, literally, is one of the greatest songs ever (ish). What the world needs now is not love, Jackie DeShannon, a.k.a. Miss Know-It-All, but more songs to sound this delicious.
Otherwise, I'd be a suicide case, a disgruntled war veteran at 18, a Lolita who threatens to tell of her affair with an older married man with kids, a drag queenl who falls for a straight guy and wants him to "cum on my lips, honey boy"--OK, you got it. On top of that, I do a killer Jamie Stewart impersonation by just sounding like I'm on a brink of tears while making noises similar to "singing." I love it. What did I say earlier today? I love unconventional vocalists.
But damn, the shit's real. Happens everywhere, all the time. For those of you who are musical extremists who hate to see their favorite indie rock band lend a song to a Chrysler commercial and would rather them be poor and hungry for the rest of their lives in order for them to have "indie cred," then you needn't to worry. Xiu Xiu doesn't seem to have it in 'em to go that route. They are straight gangsta and I cannot even imagine them polishing their sound.
Shit, even if they did, I'd be behind them 200 percent. Remember when Ethan Hawke's character in Great Expectations (which probably happened in the actual Dickens classic, but not gonna lie--never read the shit) got rich alluvasudden because Robert De Niro's character bought all of his paintings in the gallery? I'd be Xiu Xiu's De Niro.
Their new album, Women As Lovers, drops tomorrow, and after listening to only four tracks, I'm convinced that it's another brilliant album to add to the collection. Xiu Xiu is the type of band that I'd consider a gradual choice to be considered "one of my favorite bands of all time." You know the deal: you discover a band that you think is so amazing that you can only listen to them in snippets, otherwise it'll be too overwhelming. Then you forget about them, never buy a single album and let two, three new albums slip by until one day you're reunited with your initial, gut instinctual feelings: these babies are fucking incredible, and now that they're in my grasp again, I ain't lettin' go.
At least, that's what they want you to perceive 'em as. Hey, go for the gold, I always say.
I didn't know who the hell The Kills were until 2005 when my dear friend Leigh gave me a mix of their songs from Keep On Your Mean Side and No Wow. I want to give her a big ole kiss for introducing me to them because I would've missed out on something fantastic.
I love Alison Mosshart's gritty vocals, which are reminiscent of Pylon's Vanessa Briscoe Hay's vocal style. I could seriously listen to both of them all night long without ever getting bored. It's like listening to an audio version of Magic Eye because there are so many emotions embedded in their singing. Don't worry, it'll make sense eventually.
Midnight Boom will be released inMarch 10 in the UK and March 18 in the U.S. on Domino Records. They also will play at The Earl May 28. This is gonna be a great year.
This is the 50th installment of my posts about upcoming releases I'm ecstatic about, and Destroyer's Trouble In Dreams, due March 18 on Merge and Rough Trade Records. The album will look like this:
And I will look like this when he comes to The Earl April 28:
Because I will feel like I'm 3 years-old all over again and my only reactions would be me giggling uncontrollably and drooling occasionally.
I'm one of those music nerds who actually love a musician more when they have bad vocals. I could give you a laundry list of artists I love who have unconventional vocal styles, and Dan Bejar's included. I gravitate towards them because they know they aren't the best singers, but they still sing their asses off, to the point of sometimes straining their vocals, because they want to express themselves until they pop their veins. And I've learned that where they lack in supreme vocal capabilities, they make up for it with beautiful music and lyrics. I'll take the latter, please and thanks.
My gah, this album cover is horrific. What the hell is happening to Chan Marshall? Ever since Karl Lagerfield spotted her smoking a cigarette outside a NYC hotel, she went from talented musician to muse. Is she Nico now?
Don't get me wrong--I'm all about cultural versatility, but goddam, let's not bore me. I tried very hard to get into The Greatest, but I must say, I'm a hardcore You Are Free gal, so whenever I mention how much I adore Marshall's music, it'll only be in reference to that album. Well, I will say I enjoyed "Hate" off The Greatest, but that's really all I got. Don't get me wrong--the album's solid, but in order for me to consider adding an album to my collection, it has to be more than "solid."
Nevertheless, Cat Power will forever be remembered as the brilliant musician who brought us You Are Free. That album is--and I barely say this--flawless. Yes, flawless, as in, not a single mistake in the album. But it's kind of unfortunate because she was apparently battling alcoholism during this time period and beyond. But hey, great art is great art.
Buddy just gets drunk and full off of international cuisines for a living! How can you not love his show, No Reservations? Especially with the double-meaning title (no reservations for dinner, no reservations of his thoughts). But he's had his fair share, man. After working in the restaurant industry for three years, I see what line cooks go through, especially when you already have a specialty to be a chef. So kudos, brother. And you're kinda hot, in that older Jeff Goldblum/Chris Noth way.
Album of the Week: The Renaissance (2008, Universal Motown)
You can never go wrong with Q-Tip. He never grows stale. He's got some great featured artists such as Raphael Saadiq (who also never grows stale), Norah Jones (man, she has expanded her resumé as great hip-hop hook singer, too) and D'Angelo. Yessss. From Track 1 to the ending Track 12, it's deliciously listenable.
One of the greatest songs ever written was by Phil Elvrum of now defunct band The Microphones. Listeners take a journey through Phil's life as he struggles to cope with the harsh, grotesque realities it presents him. Feeling disappointed and defeated, a sullen Phil accepts the fact he's still living; then, as if on cue, a grand epiphany comes aboard this self-discovering adventure, and BAM!--blood rushes through his veins, through his heart, and his chest is full of positive air! Phil loves everything tangible and intangible! He loves life! He hopes this feeling never ends! "I'm glowing!" he exclaims.
