Orchestrations

Sometimes a song just grabs you and holds you.


It's Friday, the end of a long November week. I'm spent from packing boxes and moving furniture, a task that will only become more involving as the next week tears on. Yet as I write this, I find myself unable to turn my tunes off. There's a song that's been haunting me for a while now, and I think you need to hear it.

See, I first heard this song over the satellite airwaves a few weeks back. Initially I thought it might have been some descendant form of a Modest Mouse mutation, given the voice of the lead singer and the general feel of the track. Upon further research I found that it was actually a song by Georgia indie-rockers Manchester Orchestra off of their latest concept album Simple Math. While the eponymous single is more heartbreaking and contemplative, the single 'Virgin' has been stalking me at every turn, invading my dreams and haunting my waking hours as of late. It's the kind of ominous, foreboding heavy rocking tracks that evokes the best elements of the sturm and drang of grunge while tapping into our modern sensibilities of nuanced niche music that speaks to the cerebral listener. 

Thrumming away with lurching, swaying guitars and eerie choirs of children singing "We built this house with our hands and our time and our blood", 'Virgin' gets under your skin as it unfolds. Lead singer Andy Hull moans about our modern state and the heartbreak of a world crumbling around him while the song washes like waves, only to break into its dinosaur-stomp of a refrain. Coupled with an unsettling, iconic video, it's the kind of single that you listen to over and over to in the fear that you've done something terribly wrong. Only repeated listenings will tell you whether or not that's true.

I love this song. During the lead up to Halloween I made sure to crank it as loud as I could to wring every creepy, weepy bit of angst out of it as a form of musical penance. Check out the video and see if you don't pick up on what I mean from the imagery. It's a great single from a band that absolutely deserves a much, much wider audience.

Sick With Regret

Oh, White Stripes. How I miss thee.


What band in modernity have had an impact like that of Jack and Meg White, and with so few members to boot? It would be an easy conclusion to see that their raw, distilled power stems from the simplicity and lack of sleight of hand - this is the quintessential band for the notion of "what you see is what you get". It's always been tightly crafted, furious rocknroll pieces that get right to your primal core. That's why I, like everyone else who ever heard them, was crushed to learn that Icky Thump was to be their final album. The only consolation prize was that they went out with a bang.

As amazing as the entire album was, nothing defined the band for me like the eponymous single. Debuting in 2007, 'Icky Thump' was everything the White Stripes had become known for - relentless energy, massive guitars, bleating vocals and straight forward, bash-you-in-the-face drums. Basically, a knock out. By leading with this mastodon-like track, the two-piece proved they hadn't lost their edge as their careers reached new heights. While the world was quickly moving past the garage rock aesthetics the band had brought to the forefront less than a decade earlier, they were proving their style still had vitality in their last throes.

'Icky Thump' is Frankenstein monster of a single. By all common understanding the song shouldn't work in our over-produced, slick and glossy world of modern media. By cobbling together all these disparate elements, Jack and Meg created a song that felt just broken and dangerous enough to stand out. There's the menacing relentless thump of the verses, layered up with squirrely clavioline lines and Jack's exquisite piss-take rapping. His voice adds the perfect level of vitriolic distaste on the matter of illegal immigration as an added bonus. The single swings into a distinctively White Stripes-esque breakdown of sliding guitar riffs and slamming percussion. A series of broken and dying solos round out the song, as if to say "Solo for attention? How about I destroy my gear instead?" Despite the audacity of individuality and flaunting of convention, it works. Or maybe because of it.

I miss The White Stripes like no other. They were a rare beacon of genuine rocknroll in a homogenized, safe-for-corporations musical world. Still, as much as it pains me to say they;re no more, I can at least enjoy what they left as legacy. It blows me away to know they did tracks like this right up to the finish line.

Rain Delay

I probably should have had this ready to go on Halloween night.


Can you blame me though? I was all about celebrating my favorite holiday. I had to watch scary movies and fill up on candy corn and chocolate. The only other thing I was looking forward to as much was the latest release from my favorite Twin Cities rapper Homeless. Recorded live at the 7th Street Entry earlier in the year, this free (FREE I SAY!) LP features the rapper cutting up verses and hooks over sick samples and trading lines with another good friend of mine, the multi-talented Just Riley. Having been all over the duo's mixtape (Patience Makes Lighter/Kids Eat Free) after seeing countless shows of theirs and even roping them into performing at my own wedding, I was beyond excited to hear that after relocating to California, Homeless was still putting out this fantastic and tightly paced show for free online. My expectations were exceeded in every way.

Where as seemingly every other live show I've heard on record has suffered from bad mixes or a lack of passion, Homeless did the deft mix here of coupling a fantastic mix with a relentless lyrical fire. The MC is just as vibrant and alive on this LP as he is at any show. Best of all, thanks to a well-orchestrated production the vocals are crystal clear over the beat, sounding almost like an incredibly dynamic radio performance more than a bootleg recording. Jumping right into the madness after an intro from another local upstart, Toussaint Morrison, Homeless shows his growth and burgeoning swagger by spitting apocalypse fostering verses over a crazy beat by R Productions. 'Craze(y)' shows him running a manic foot race against a beat by Alchemist that was originally put to use by Mobb Deep. The minute long 'For The Record' ends with Homeless clarifying his stance on half and half in his coffee. 

Just Riley joins the fray for 'The Weather', making his presence known by screaming about "Humpty Dumpty tendencies". From here on out the pair, known together as Mnemosyne, volley tracks and lines back and forth. 'Familiar Strangers' is an ultra catchy live staple and inspires little shimmies as the two spit miles of lyrics together. 'Somniphobia' will break your heart as Just Riley incites the crowd to sing along with his fear of sleeping alone. On 'Kids Eat Free', the title track from his mixtape, Just Riley takes lead vocals to examine our mental starvation as he wraps his linguistics in circles around his own ideas. Rapping over a beat provided by Cecil Otter of Doomtree, Homeless and Riley paint a grim picture of life inside asylum walls on 'Welcome to Bedlam'. Homeless makes a case for making the most of your life on 'In The Air' from his release Patience Makes Lighter before closing the show with the pop insanity of 'Magic Man', as crafted by Weezer frontman Rivers Cuomo.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss Homeless, here in the Twin Cities. Truth be told, I hardly go to shows now that these two have headed west to CA. Sure, Doomtree have a stint of Blowout shows coming up, but they're shoe-ins - some of the joy in watching Homeless making a release like Right As Rain happen is seeing an artist cut his teeth and hone his craft. The man has genuine talent that grows every day. I just wish he didn't have to head out to bigger and better things to spread the good word. You look him up - I'll make him do a hometown show as soon as possible.

Fakeout

I suppose this could have been written a decade ago.

Previous posts have explored the idea of the futility of discovering music in a society that lacked omnipresent web access and hyperactive culture. Trying to catch the name of a band or song on the radio or MTV was hard enough. Deciding to waste the money on an album (or even a CD single) was even more frustrating. As I've previously written about my internet endeavors, I spent a fair amount of time in college searching for long-forgotten songs and things tucked in the farthest corners of my mind. One such song, 'Pure Morning' by Placebo, was a fantastic find. It could just as easily be a modern release, to boot.

'Pure Morning' was released in 1998. Originally a B-side from a more popular single, Placebo found themselves too enamored with the song to relegate it to the reject pile. It was not only included on the album but became one of the band's most popular singles to date, along with their earlier effort, 'Nancy Boy'. They've enjoyed enduring success in their native UK and abroad, but this track was the start of their slow descent from the top - the band peaked in the late 90s, essentially. This is not a bad thing - they're still doing just fine and selling millions of albums. It just takes a little longer with our fractured media landscape. Regardless, they endure and continue to have successful tours and releases. 

So why the big fuss? I guess I just dig the song. I feel like it could have been just as popular today as it was when it was released. Were one to slip the song into a playlist on, say, AltNation on satellite radio the audience would most likely not skip a beat. Maybe that's what makes the strange track so appealing in the long run. It's a great song but perhaps it was ahead of its time. Brian Molko's voice is peculiar but memorable, both indicative of the indulgent 90s music scene and our modern quirky-for-quirk's sake hipster ideals. The bass and guitar are spacey and fuzzed out in an obtuse but catchy sound that would fit either decade. The drums bang and wallop in this wide open loop that feels like it both belongs in the era of The Verve's 'Bittersweet Symphony' and would fit on any spotlight collection in the iTunes store. The only thing out of place about the song is the video, solely for the long, slow shots of police men interrupting a suicide attempt by Molko as he steps off a ledge. It's to calm and measured for our ADD minds. Bleak and strange, absolutely. Just too calm to fit in now.

Take a listen and see if I'm nuts. Even if you disagree with my assertion that 'Pure Morning' still feels modern you'll rediscover a great, overlooked song from the end of the last decade. It was a hard time to find music in the Midwestern town I called home - forgive me for indulging my nostalgiac embrace. 

Warm Feelings

Sometimes these posts are just as much about taking something back from the ether as they are about spreading love.

Allow me to clarify. 

So many of these posts are about things that have been swept under the rug by our collective hyperactivity and perpetual distraction. The world is so full of amazing things that it's easy to forget that we should appreciate what's there rather than denouncing emergent media or hailing the next big thing as 'BEST EVAR'. I get it. Hyperbole is what runs the internet. If it's not an opinion that polarizes, it's lost in the din. Life doesn't work that way, however. Sometimes we're lukewarm to things, or just not moved to passionate reaction. A nuanced life in this world we've created is a rare thing. I like to think, though, that minds change. People grow and reflect. I can embrace that which used to put me off. 

For example - when I was younger I hated fall with a passion that matched any miscreant on Xbox Live. I hated the days growing shorter, the cold, the inevitable winter that followed. I also hated the things I associated with it, retroactively. Albums I had listened to the previous fall were tainted. Things I had said or done were looked upon with regret or disdain, simply because of the intangible feeling associated with this time of year. At some point the tide in my head shifted. Maybe it was getting older and mellowing out just a bit. Maybe I started to understand to a greater extent my insignificant place in the universe. Maybe it was realizing someone loved me and wanted to spend the rest of their life with me as much as I did with them. That takes away a lot of your distemper, I've found. So when fall approaches now, I find myself picking through the mental detritus of my life, overturning stone and marveling at the things underneath, like ephemeral silverfish. I enjoy poking through my own neglected memories, things I hadn't thought about in years.

There was an album by Bush that I so strongly associated with this time of year (and admittedly, my own poor mental state at the time) that I simply refused to listen to it. There was something about it that was like biting on tinfoil when I heard the opening track. So strongly did I associate The Science of Things with these darkening days that I convinced myself that it was the music that was bad and not my listening experience or frame of reference. Through self indulgent curiosity I've found I had fooled myself. While it's not the greatest record EVAR (per common online parlance) there are some interesting and worthwhile moments to come back to. 

In particular, the opening track (and second single) 'Warm Machine' is beautiful in its crashing waves of sound. The discordant riff that dominates the song pulls so strongly at my heart and causes such a physical reaction in my chest that I can see now why I put it away for so long. There is such a melancholic, saudade-summoning essence to the ambiance that I must not have been able to handle the tones as a younger person. My own depression and unhappiness at the time tied in too closely with the feelings stirred up by the change in season and hearing this song as the sun set on an overcast, Midwestern skyline. Hearing it now makes me remember with vivid clarity just where I was and who I was with every time I heard it. The intensity of my rejection of the song is somehow proportional to my emergent appreciation for it a decade later. 

Funny how that works. Sometimes you're not in the right place or time or frame of mind to get something. A lot of art blew right past me as a young man, much as some things do now. I'm sure when another decade has passed I'll kick myself for not enjoying something simple and obvious like tomato soup. But you know what? My better half has already started me down the soup loving path. That's how life works. You learn to love the world, one piece at a time.

Dive In

So the weekend has once again come and gone.


I spent the majority of my time this weekend getting things done and crossing things off my mental check list. Some of it, like packing boxes and loading them in my truck, were very literal tasks that were relieving to have accomplished. Others, like seeing my family and adorable nephew, were more ephemeral and personally rewarding. No matter how it's counted, I feel great having come out the far side of the weekend with nothing written and tons accomplished. A novel (that was started just before NanoWrimo last year) is still spinning its wheels. A couple of short stories I'm cultivating are in the fermentation process at the moment - I have the bones, I'm just growing the connective tissue. In the meantime, I'm moving and looking forward to the adventure and change of scenery. As I pack up my current life with my better half I like to reminisce and reflect, marveling at elapsed time and forgotten events. When I do that I like to listen to music that adds to the contemplative mood. So I turn to Tycho.

Tycho is an electronic musician from the San Fran area in CA. Biologically known as Scott Hansen, Tycho is an artist whose music brings out the best in my mind, a sort of remembrance that stems from stirring up old dirt and letting it breath the air. It's the kind of music you put on to stimulate the mind but then forget you turned on. An hour into an album you realize you've been subconsciously jamming while going about your business, never pausing to reflect on why you feel so good about what you're doing. 

I wrote in yesterday's post about a song I only tend to listen to in the fall - Dive by Tycho is an album I hope to return to many times throughout my life, especially on these cold, fading days of fall. There's something so magical and intangible that he's captured in the music he creates. It's like nothing else I've heard. It has these elements of pulsing electronic beats coupled with melodic bells and chimes that make your heart ache. He causes tension in your chest from drawing out long phrases and resolving them with clever structural choice and serene production. In short, it's an album that stirs something all too rarely touched in your heart, only to leave you wanting to hear more. 

The days are getting shorter and we're always trying to pack more into them. I know that I can put on an album like Dive when I'm puttering around my condo, checking things off my list. Even if I don't get everything accomplished that I had hoped to, at least I can stretch that piece of my mind that needs the air when I put on Tycho's latest album. It's beautiful stuff - do yourself a favor and lighten your load. Listen in and loosen up.

Fall Apart

No bones about it.


Fall is here and making way for that dreaded sequential terror. The W word. It's lurking just around the bend. The days are shorter. The nights are longer. More often than not the sky is overcast and we have to pull up our collars around our collective scarves to keep the ever-growing chill out of our coats. Not all hope is lost, though. There are the small, subtle things to aid us in our journey, to give us lift in our daily endeavors. For me, one small thing is the old hit by INXS, 'Never Tear Us Apart'.

Unlike other posts I won't cite here, with this 80s hit I can cite specific reasons for personal relevance. I always associate this song with Fall. The melancholic air of the lyrics and sounds. Michael Hutchence's wailing and the pulling-at-the-heart string arrangement. They convey a cold and somber time, which is only furthered by the classic video from the late 80s, which I also saw repeated viewings of during the Fall season. In it, the band struts around in pained, pretentious manner in heavy coats as they sort of perform the song. No elaborate set up, despite the decadent decade - no, in an interesting twist on convention, INXS just wandered around Prague in the cold season, performing the song in a somber setting. I love it.

The song itself is great, a real hidden gem of a pop tune from an otherwise genre busting, funky New Wave band. I love that they made this weird, morose song that stands out among their canon. It's this stealth reminder of finding beauty in the heartache of the seasons passing and fading. Every year I find myself listening to this song more in Fall than in any other time. It's surprisingly lush and gorgeous despite its cold, isolated sense of heartbreak and romance. Hutchence sells it well with his plain yet theatrical voice. The dramatic pauses are wonderful as they unleash in the understated guitar licks and pounding drums. I have to confess this might be the only time that I will go on record as staunchly in favor of the saxophone contribution. There is no way this song would be the same at all with any other instrument playing that solo.

Give in to the season. Feel it surround you, the crisp air and the leaves beneath your feet. It gets cool, yeah, but it's not a bad thing. Just try it on and see if it fits. Putting INXS on your headphones as you tromp through the fading light of Fall is the perfect addition to the season. Let it wash over you and see if I'm right. No bones about it, we're in the thick of it. Might as well make the most of it while we can. 

Deeper and Deeper

Evening, cats.


It's Friday and I've spent the day moving heavy boxes. My back and arms ache. I've had more than my share of a bottle of red (Red Truck - not a cab or merlot or zin, just red) like an adult jukebox. I can't push myself to work on a longer, more involved piece I've been putting off, as of late. Instead, I thought I'd share with you the joy that is Adele remixed as part of a Childish Gambino track.


I knew of Adele prior to this, of course. 'Chasing Pavements' had been all over the scene and the soulful young lady had made a name for herself with her old-school voice and intense inflection. I'd been crazy impressed with Childish Gambino from his album Culdesac, his phenomenal mix tapes and his work in comedy. So when he took her ascendant single 'Rolling In The Deep' and cut it up, I was a little confused. I forgot about her career and focused on his...with good reason, I'd argue.

Adele is a voice whose reputation goes far and wide among the popular culture these days. She has such clout from her talent that I felt genuinely sad when I heard that she had to cancel her recent tour and undergo major surgery on her vocal cords/throat. She's the opposite of a flash-in-the-pan - she's an artist who you really get an intense interaction from. Similar reactions stem from Childish Gambino - he's a musician who can't be confined to one simple thing. He's  not just a rapper, or DJ, or singer or comedian, or actor. The guy is insanely talented at whatever he throws himself into. I'd already been blown away by his musical endeavors. So these two forces colliding made something even more amazing.

As great as Adele's version of 'Deep' is, the Childish Gambino remix is more vibrant, more vital. It's a song that brings out different feelings and emotions from it's different dynamics than the original, as if that's not as obvious enough of a statement. Instead of a churning acoustic and plodding backing band we have Gambino setting Adele's unmistakable voice against sparse yet infectious hand claps, getting your mind into the rhythm right off the bat. He wraps her voice around a series of breaks and percussive tones that evoke DIY aesthetics like banging on pipes and sampling overheard sounds. He warps he voice using pitch-shifters and snippets of samples, rearranging the song into a more distilled, aggressive version of itself. When a break appears midway through, Gambino drops in for a verse to offer a response filled with vitriol and defiance. His rapping is a genius example of breaking convention and offering a novel back-and-forth for a kiss-off pop song. It's fantastic stuff.

Don't get me wrong - Adele made an amazing song with 'Rolling In The Deep'. I just find the Childish Gambino version, which I actually heard before the original version, to be a more defining take on the tune. Hers is canon, his is gospel. Hers is the standard, his is the ripper. He tells a story and builds on the world she created. Listen to them both and let me know what you think. 

No Worries

Hey, gang.


What's good? You feeling good? Hope so. It's weird for me to be able to write about whatever I want and not have a structured sense of goals or obligations to strive for. No grand theme or design, no overarching concept to fit in to. How about instead of a massive existential crisis I just spill the beans on a great single that you might have missed? Sound good? Gravy, let's do it.


Peter Bjorn & John, abbreviated as PB&J, are an indie rock outfit from Sweden who have been cranking out tunes for the last decade. Of all their weird and wonderful music, my favorite track of theirs is the funky little ditty 'Nothing To Worry About'. Featuring kids chanting the titular chorus, a stomping beat and some catchy tones, it's a song that gets under your skin and stays there, whether you're aware of it or not. It originally came out in 2009, as a single from their album Living Thing. I picked up a little while later, but kept hearing it even after it made its way out of my regular rotation. It's just one of those tracks you can't shake due to its infectious nature. It has these synth chords buried in its beat.

There's something so delightfully strange and gorgeous about this song I can't quite put my finger on - maybe it stems from the relentless beat of the drums in the background. Maybe it's that barely-out-of-tune chord that keeps humming. Maybe it's just the hook, the kids singing "Doing this thing, this type of thing, put a lil' money in this type of thing' that gets me. Something about it is just infectious enough that after months away from it, I hear a snippet of it in a promo for Sunny or have it come on during a shuffled playlist and I think "Oh man, I have to bump this." I don't know. It's just fun and weird.

The video accompanying the song is just as delightfully strange. Showcasing the Japanese rockabilly subculture, the clip has nothing to do with the song, yet the vibe somehow fits the sound. These guys throwing themselves with such gusto into a completely arbitrary fashion and culture scene, I guess I can relate. Isn't that all fashion and culture on a certain level? It just takes something as mismatched as this to bring it to light, I suppose.

Me, I love this song. I'd highly suggest you throw down the necessary dollar and pick it up. It's just fun enough, off kilter enough, to get you through to the weekend. Sometimes you need an out-of-left-field mood lifter. I think this bit of Swedish indie rock could help you out. Have a listen, see what's up.

Mega Buster

If there's an upside to my cover coverage coming to an end, it's that I get to share more random, amazing things with you.

Take, for example, Dr. Wylie's recent amazing (and free!) EP, titled Wiggle. Packed full of robotic jams and off kilter beats, the EP shows what the DJ and producer hailing from Minneapolis is capable of when coming into his own. The collected tunes on file are a series of beats and songs that create a cohesive vibe, an artist who is really expressing a strong sense of identity with his sound. After getting familiarized with his sound through local artist Toussaint Morrison and his evermore impressive releases, I was pleasantly surprised to see that Dr. Wylie is compellingly capable of holding his own when stepping into the musical spotlight.

Wiggle is an EP whose roots are firmly planted in the world of electronics and videogames. The moniker alone should be enough of an indicator about his sensibilities. Dr. Wylie is the name of the antagonist roboticist extraordinaire in the seminal Mega Man series for the last 20-odd years. Both as an homage and namesake, our Wylie does the mad scientist proud with his electronic, robo-tinged sounds and samples. The opening tracks, 'GFGDGT' and 'Robot Love', show the artificial elements blending with natural melodies, creating a fresh hybrid sound. 'Favrit Flayvah' has enough twisted organic elements to allow the electronic samples to get loose and jazzy, aided by a just-barely-in-step piano and drum beat. 'Fear Is...' demonstrates the vibrancy and danger Wylie can harness in his equipment, full of low-slung buzzes and throbbing synths. 'Doris & The Machine' is full of snapping, head-whipping blasts of funk and fury. It sounds like breaking machines and malfunctioning droids. I love putting it on and watching the world around me lock into a rhythmic pocket. Built around a sample from Dr. Mario, 'Chill' is a fun, nostalgic banger that throws your ears out of whack. I love Wylie's rendition of folk staple 'Little Boxes' - here's hoping he gets his shot at opening an episode of Weeds.   

I love this EP - it feels, at its best moments, like party music from the not-too-distant future, or maybe a cocktail party hosted by Dr. Light. It's like our own, Minneapolis-bred version of Gorillaz, and I mean that in the most complimentary sense. Dr. Wylie creates these dense little audio worlds by himself, and in doing so establishes an undeniably unique presence in the scene. Keep an eye on him - he's only going to get crazier and build bigger, more dangerous sounds.