Crew Cuts

C'mon, like you didn't expect this?


Doomtree. No Kings. 


What more does a guy have to say? I've been all about the 'Meatcleaver tied to a Shotgun' since Just Riley turned me on to P.O.S. back in 2005. Since then, I've been as obsessed as any of their fans, clamoring for more material, the long awaited crew album, attending the (now week-long) Blowouts in First Ave. So when word dropped earlier in the fall about No Kings, I was super excited. The teaser tracks were killer, crazy stuff. I was gonna give you a full run down on why you should pick up the album (if you hadn't already) but it looks like the local City Pages beat me to the punch. That's the rub of a one man operation - I can only do so much. They did a fantastic job breaking down the release of the second full-crew release, so what more could I say? 

My own perspective, of course. While I certainly agreed with everything they had to say about Doomtree's rapid, hardworking rise to the top, it was interesting to see certain views and assumptions confirmed or denied. For example, my suspicions were correct, it seems, that the title and theme were completely coincidental in the context of the Occupy movement and the release of the Jay-Z/Kanye album. The crew had always had a 'make your own life' aesthetic to it, this album distilled that ethos. Additionally, the nature of the collaboration and presentation of the album was much more unified and cohesive when compared to their previous group effort. While I loved that album as a symbol of accomplishment and a statement on where they were, it was very diverse, almost scattered. No Kings, instead, is incredibly cohesive. Every song feels like part of an album instead of a showcase for each artist. Songs aren't individualized but more like limbs to a monster. 

The amount of growth each member of the crew has shown is also remarkable. The ideas and themes they put forth have always been lurking in the unspoken spaces of Doomtree hooks and lines. It's only in the last two years or so that the rappers have fully blossomed into the incredibly nuanced and articulate wordsmiths they are here. You could spend pages unpacking individual couplets, only to realize there would be more than one or two interpretations. Sims becomes more introspective and conversely more light in his delivery, feeling ever more alive and alight when he raps. P.O.S. refines his social viewpoints and desire to reform his world as he sees fit, all while gaining more verbal dexterity. Mictlan's word-collages grow evermore diverse and bizarre, creating murals with wordplay that hinges on free-association dadaism. Dessa has fallen into a dangerous pocket, retaining all her artistry she wielded on A Badly Broken Code, only now she finds herself completely lock-step with the rest of the insane crew, rather than being a stand out. Cecil Otter continues to make me question my own justification of using the same language he does. How can I claim to craft a sentence when he not only produces beats but creates some of the smartest, most cutting lyrics you've ever heard?

Yes, yes, hyperbole, I know. What I'm saying is prove me wrong. Listen to this album and tell me its not the most talented crew out there, working as one horrifyingly talented whole. The collective vision is so masterfully crafted and delivered, it almost puts anything else they've done to shame. All the shows at First Ave this week are sold out, but maybe if you know a guy, you can get in. They own their own world. We only get glimpses of it when they drop albums like this. 

Police State

Okay.


Alright.


So, I'm in.


I had heard the buzz about Polica for a while. As bummed as I was about the disolution of local folk husband-and-wife outfit Roma di Luna, there was a bright spot on the horizon. While Alexi was free to return to his main ouevre as part of Kill The Vultures, his wife Channy Leaneagh teamed up with Chris Bierden, Drew Christopherson and Ben Ivascu to record a full length album under the name Polica. Funny thing is, they did this without playing a proper show in Minnesota. Before the album even comes out, though, there has been a massive buzz around the band. Just a couple of tracks from the forth-coming Give You The Ghost have been teased, yet their is an insatiable hunger for more. 

While they recently built on the anticipation by opening for Foster The People at First Ave the other night, Polica have already become a staple on The Current. Check out their sight to hear 'Wandering Star' (titled 'Dark Star' on their official site). This was the first track of theirs that I heard. It sums up all the best parts of the band without exposing all their secrets. Channy's voice gets to float and flit over the band, the only other sounds being two drummers, bass and the occasional sample. It's sparse and aloof, some soft vocals that get twisted and and tweaked just a bit while washing over the band. The echo of the drums and the warm bass make a distinct sound that form a better whole than the separate elements. 'Lay Out Your Cards', on the Polica website, has a similar mix of empty spaces and warm, human touches. Another in-studio performance for Radio K yields another fantastic song, the Bjork-esque 'Leading to Death'. It has some great synthesizers that form a core around which the band crafts a whimsical and weird tune.

I can't wait to hear more, honestly. Full confession - I am totally on the band wagon now. I had heard the buzz building and thought "how can it be so great?". Then I heard one song. That was all it took. I had to hear more. The album is done and ready to go, but in a wise move they're holding their cards close. A Valentine's Day release show is planned. Get on board now, kids. You won't want to miss this. 

Drop Off

Thus ends the weekend.

Much better this time around. I actually got to sleep in. Another round of requisite errands and cleaning on a grey Sunday in Minnesota, one of those days where the horizon disappears. The ground is grey, and the overcast sky fades seamlessly in, making one indistinguishable world. It was a day of checking things off lists and a steady slow stream of conversation with my better half. I'm not gonna lie - there was some Xmas music in there. Not all of it, though. There was a buzzing, quiet drone that almost lulled me to sleep this afternoon. I kind of wish I had indulged in the nap that beckoned as I listened to 'Teardrop' by Massive Attack.

Yes, yes - I'm sure you're well familiar with the song due its use as the opening credits accompaniment on the medical series House. You know what, though? Forget all that. Not to knock the show (I've only ever caught a few episodes and can't confidently make a comprehensive judgement) but I don't like that this amazing, haunting song has been co-opted by a procedural. It's so much more amazing than that. But I guess that's what got it selected for use in the show, so what can I complain about, right? It's gorgeous and evocative of mourning and loss, despite its beautiful nature. The stark arrangement, the heavy thud of the piano, the steady click of the drums. There is so much coming together in just the right way with this song, forming a strong whole than the sum of its parts.

 I don't mean to be disparaging of the commercial use of 'Teardrop'. I'll be the first to state how much songs used in massively popular TV shows and movies make an impact. I guess it has more to do with the gentle and personal nature of this track that makes me react in that way. I shouldn't have to defend this song from the commercial sector. Haven't I written voluminous screeds about effective use of music in soundtracks and how they create meaningful moments? I can let this slide, I suppose. Just hearing the song today as I was winding down brought up the conflicting feeling of wanting to remind the world of its beauty but realizing it's been so co-opted that people would just assume "oh, that song from House?". Not the worst thing in the world, but try to separate the two. Listen to 'Teardrop' as a stand alone entity. Hear it for how serene and somber it is. It's haunting.

Cold Cut

Yo!


I am writing this having been on the business end of a Power Hour with my better half and my sister in law. Such is life. You gotta make your own fun in the burbs! But long before I got down to business carousing and drinking to a timer while jamming out to local artists, I was out on a series of requisite errands. While doing so, one of the first major so falls of the season came upon the metro area. While I was winding my way through the snow I found myself cranking up a thoroughly amazing song that I credit hearing solely to the local indie station, 89.3, The Current. The tune in question? 'Surgeon' by St. Vincent.

It was kind of a beautiful moment. I had made a productive round of the area, crossing all sorts of things off my list. I was headed back to base camp. The snow was falling slow and steady, the lackadaisical kind of weather that begs you to pull over and start wandering through the adjacent woods. Had I been in my parents homestead, I would have just strapped on some snowshoes and wandered off and seen what the world had in store. In the outer ring, though, it means cranking some indie tunes and barreling through the snow, feeling the song crafting the atmosphere around me.

'Suregoen' by St. Vincent is a trip of a track. Hailing from the album Strange Mercy, it's comprised of seemingly disparate pieces of music, all glued together under the guise of some out-of-synch guitars and fuzzed out bass. St. Vincent is a young woman, barely a year older than myself, who has cut her teeth supporting some of the titans of the independent music scene. Her songs are breathy, ethereal things. This tune is no exception. It's a phantom of a track that makes any day, especially one with an isolating winter storm, all the better. Your mind gets wrapped in a blanket. You get a warm, fuzzy feeling from the bass and off kilter elements.

It's been a crazy, weird night out here in the outer ring. A night like this, far from the bars and restaurants I know, you gotta make your own fun in the outpost. When the snow started falling, it felt a bit like I was headed to my Hoth encampment. The strange air lended by St. Vincent only made it more wonderful and odd. Listen to St. Vincent, for real. She is an amazing artist with a great, distinct sound.

Game On

So the weekend is here.


Thank goodness.


Been a long week. Glad to see it end. I didn't really get a break last week; while everyone else got a long weekend, I spent the time moving and hauling furniture. Now I get to unwind and tie one on, even if it is from the quiet, remote outpost that is the outer ring of the suburbs. Things will happen though, and I will inevitably get up to the requisite mischief. To accompany any such mischief, as well as whatever you might find yourself getting into, might I suggest something banging and thumping for a soundtrack? Yes? Good. How about 'Name of the Game' by the Crystal Method?

Whatever you find yourself getting into, you need to do it to the ominous, blasting sounds of The Crystal Method. The dirty, breaking sounds of this legendary electronic dance duo compliment any sort of behavior you might find yourself getting into. Pre-gaming for a pub crawl with a raucous crew of compatriots? Crank it. Simply crossing errands off of a checklist? Set a self imposed deadline and race against the clock while blasting this crazy tune (all in accordance with your local legal codes, mind you). No matter how manic or mundane your activities are, up the ante with 'Name of the Game' off their 2001 album Tweekend.

The song is a slow roaster of a jam, a staple from back at the turn of the millennium. A deep and funky guitar riff courtesy of Tom Morello propels the song along, putting one mammoth foot in front of the other. The big beat production duo break a steady beat open into full swing to give a sense of momentum and force to a juggernaut of a rock/dance hybrid. The video produced for the song is just as memorable and strange, featuring a young dude with only nose for a face, dealing with his (at the time, stereotypical) bad ass life - break-dancing, fighting with his girl, getting hassled by the cops. Charming stuff.

I'm not saying you need to break any laws this weekend. By all means, have a crazy, reckless time and blow off some steam. Just do it withing the boundaries of established legal precedent. I'm just suggesting that whatever you find yourself doing to vent can be made all the more dynamic and thrilling by putting a bit of the ol' bustin' n' breakin' riff/rock dance tunes underneath. That was a lot of apostrophe's, right? Yeah, probably too many. A sign I've had too much fun - I'm playing fast and loose with my punctuation. I'll settle down. You're just getting started, aren't you?

Shell Shock

There it is. 

There's no knowing if it will last for an extended duration, but the first legitimate snow of the season sneaked in last night. When confronted by the sight of my car huddled under the inch-or-so dusting, I found myself slightly confounded. I forgot how to proceed for a moment. Then I remembered I still had brushes and scrapers in my car from last winter. Never even took 'em out. After catching the bus into Minneapolis, I stepped down onto Nicollet Mall and started the cold walk into the office. Even knowing the cold and snow were going to last for at least another five months, it was a gorgeous way to start the day. The sidewalks were full of people pulling their coats tight against the brisk air, breathing into their scarves and gloves......we're all going to go mad from cabin fever in two months, aren't we? 

What made the morning journey even more enjoyable was the soundtrack supplied by the inscrutable Tortoise. Their surreal and genre-slipping album TNT added a wonderful touch of the ephemeral to the sojourn. I don't even recall acquiring the album - at some point it found its way onto my hard drive from my sister in law. The two of us are always exchanging musical pleasantries; this must have been one she left for me that I hadn't found for some time. I'm really glad she did, though, because I was looking for something relaxing and intriguing to listen to as I went about my day. I feel like I've exhausted my usual ambient/triphop/downtempo canon. Tortoise make a fine addition to what I think of as personal soundtracks. 

Released in 1998, TNT is an album that never stops shifting. It's not a hectic defiance of convention or an all-encompassing project like Gorillaz. No, TNT is an album that not only evolves as you listen to it, but shows you a band evolving. At this point in the band's career, they had recently brought on board their first guitar player and second bass player, in addition to a multi-membered percussion section. The unorthodox lineup afforded the already eclectic group to create more far-out songs and soundscapes. The music never quite hits a firm pocket, but it subtly shifts in tone every song, just enough to make your ear perk up. The phaser-based jazz of the title track. The espionage-inciting mood of 'I Set My Face To The Hillside'. The bells and bones playing on the eerie 'Ten-Day Interval'. 

What a great find. I wish I had found it sooner, though. Just goes to show what good things lie in store for you when you start spreading around good music. It comes back to you in the best way possible. Now I have a great soundtrack for the walk to the office, or any other time of potential contemplation. It sure made today a better day, thanks to this divergent start. Winter's here, it seems. Good tunes will help me get through the next five or six months. 

Space Out

Man. Crazy day.


Busy stuff. One of those days that sees you just trying to keep up with whatever comes down the pike, not just trying to knock things off your list but more along the lines of juggling while someone keeps throwing in fresh elements for you to keep aloft. I got through, though, without any of my weary remembrances of the dark days of my youth. Nah, sometimes you gotta take a bad day and just flip it over on itself. So instead of the slice and dice dangers of adolescent angst, how about we go full on Glam Rock? 'In The Meantime' by Spacehog. That's how you can turn it over.

 Not to pigeonhole the band, but these guys were a one hit wonder, right? I mean, think of another significant song of theirs - nothing else they did even comes close to the iconic riffage of 'In The Meantime'. It came out in 1996, at the heyday of, or maybe the downward slope of MTV's alternative love-fest. This song, and the strange video, got a lot of airplay on the old standby 120 Minutes. Too bad it was the only thing on the album Resident Alien that got any airplay despite the fact it went gold.

It has that kind of recognizable riff that immediately cuts through the white noise of our modern world. You hear the guitar lick the song is built around, and the high pitched backing vocals and BAM - there you have a song that gets you to cock your head and say "Yeah, okay. I got this." The whole song is good, with the little telephone signal intro and the strutting bassline under the verses. The vocals are pure Glam-era Bowie, over-sung and over emoted in the most goofy, sincere way. That chorus, though. It's total Glam cheese, but it's so insanely great that you can't be in a foul, stressed mood when you hear it. One spin around and you probably have a growing grin on your face.

See how that works? You can have me getting all existential and reflective one day, extolling the virtues of the Deftones and their alt metal gestalt, only to see the mood totally flip after a hectic day by listening to a single, bizarre song. Listen to it and try to place all the idiosyncratic times it's popped up in your life. 

Fur Is Murder

Evening, all. 

These cold, dreary days that linger between the fall and winter, but existing completely in neither, get me to thinking about what I was listening to when dealing with some of the worst I can recall. There was a particular time frame spanning a late fall/winter/early spring that was brutal. It was really hard for me to persevere. The strange thing was that it didn't really stem from any particular factors - instead it sprang seemingly from the depths of my mind, some horrible monster clawing its way up the walls of my head and having reign of the place while I waited it out. I think in hindsight I was just terribly unhappy with who I was. It seems (from the comfort of a distant mindset) that I just wasn't realized as the person I suspected I could be or was going to be. Even in my darkest days now, I can acknowledge that not only am I kind of really awesome, but that in general I am happy with the person I've turned out to be. Similar to what I'm experiencing now, being in an office during all daylight hours and almost never seeing the sun, I vividly recall what little social activity I partook in to involve a great deal of darkness, both real and imagined. My mind was a reeling, loopy thing that was reaching out for any kind of cathartic comfort, something to exorcise the demon from inside. In my darkest hours I reached out to a band I didn't understand - the Deftones. 

Sporting what is possibly my favorite band name ever, the Deftones were (and still sort of are) an alt-metal band that flourished right around the time of the dreaded Nu-Metal that brought us all sorts of terrible music I shamefully enjoyed. The Deftones always seemed a bit removed from that unfortunate label, though. They had an unusual (forgive the word choice, please) deftness about their musicianship and presentation that gave off a slightly more nuanced air. Sure, it was still scream-till-your-throat-is-raw metal at times, but there were also moments lighter, more subdued sounds that suggested a more artistic flair. As I said, their cathartic music was a release for my frustrated adolescent mind. A large portion of that unhappy time was spent driving around listening to their end of the millennium album 'Around the Fur'. 

'Around the Fur' is an album that is both sharp and slick, a sonic blade delivered from the CA-born band. Vocalist Chino Moreno vacillates between tense, anguished whispering to open-throated howling, never quite technically singing yet creating oddly unique melodies nonetheless. The first track, the blistering single 'My Own Summer (Shove It)' uses a twisting, descending riff coupled with a driving bassline to make one hammer of a track, especially when the chorus blasts out and Moreno's screaming takes center stage. The title track thumps away with heavy, propelling kick drums and guitars that grind and slice your ears. 'Headup' still makes appearances in my workout mixes due to its sheer frenzy and near-indecipherable rapping, but to be honest most of this album appears in workout and running mixes. If you want to read a longer breakdown of my love for the spacey metal of 'Be Quiet and Drive', follow the link to an older post. 

I leaned heavily on this album when in a bad space, which I suppose is odd, considering the abrasive and unsettling sounds it contains. What does that say about me? I don't know, maybe I was just a cliched angst-ridden teenager venting through alt-metal that my own band at the time couldn't produce. Whatever the case is, I still get a lot of sneaking satisfaction out of listening to this album on a cold, dark day like this, knowing that everything seems to have turned out alright. I like me, and I like the me that can listen to this and shake my head at the distant memory of the troubled teenager. 

Jar Head

It's oh so quiet.

I'm writing this from the new digs. What strikes me most, aside from the obvious, hit you on the head nature of moving, is the quiet. In the last five years I became quite accustomed to the sound of drunken howling, passing ambulances and car horns. The general ambiance of Uptown, in short. Escaping to the farther rings of the city offers something that I used to associate with living in my parent's house as a teenager - total silence. A quiet night like this one, totally bereft of noise, sneaking into the kitchen so as not to wake anyone sleeping with my footsteps and opening of cupboard doors...suddenly I"m 17 again, living in my parent's basement. 

Not all was silent, though. Through out the winter I spent my share of quiet, late nights playing PS2 games with the volume at the audible threshold. Between GTA3, Silent Hill 2 and Tony Hawk 3 I was a content Midwestern recluse. No matter the depths of a blizzard or quiet solitude of a Sunday night, I was happy to sit in the quiet and vid out. A night like this makes me think of a favorite lost song I should be hearing. If I still had my PS2 still hooked up (somewhere, packed away in a box with our shared systems - Atari, Nes, Snes, Sega, N64, PS2, Xbox, GameCube and a Wii) I would get all nostalgic and play Tony Hawk 3 with 'Not The Same' by Bodyjar on a loop.

The Tony Hawk video games weren't just frenetic, addictive fun. They had killer soundtracks, too. As a Midwestern recluse I heard a fair amount of good, fresh music from these games. I can attest that among my friends more than a share of us had memorized lyrics due to marathon gaming sessions. We all had our favorites. Mine was the melodic punk offering of the (now defunct) Australian band Bodyjar. Countless sessions of fevered two-minute rounds were played to the strains of blasting guitars and snide, rounded vocals only half discerned. The only thing missing from tonight that would complete the recollection is a PS2 controller and about three feet of snow, which, being the end of November, should be here by now. 

Hearing the song now, I still dig it, even if my tastes have slowed down slightly. While I listen to more down-tempo instrumental and ambient music, I still have an affinity for the unresolved tension of the main riff to 'Not The Same'. The pre-chorus, with its not-quite-out-of-key chord progression, still sounds great. If you're at all near my age bracket (which you can figure out via context clues) you might be familiar with this song. Give it a spin or hey - bust out the PS2. It's about 10 years on from that sweet spot with all those great games. On a quiet night like this, I'm quite tempted, myself.

Down And Out

...and just like that, I don't live in Uptown anymore.

The big move happened over the course of the last two days. It was a suspiciously smooth process, thanks in no small part to extensive pre-planning and several extremely helpful friends. I find myself typing this on a laptop in bed, my back full of knots and my mind completely shot. We're sort of settled but there are still a multitude of packages to be sorted and put away. As soon as I'm done with this post I'm shutting off the laptop and turning on Netflix. To shut my mind down, I'm going to indulge in the underrated, defunct series Party Down.

Originally broadcast on Starz back in 2009 and 2010, Party Down starred Adam Scott, Ken Marino and Lizzy Caplan as under-achieving caterers in Hollywood. It was a show that, while never killing the competition in the ratings, has garnered a devoted audience that followed along into the second and final season. The show, featuring a who's who of character and comedy actors, followed wash-up actor Henry, played by Scott, as he sorted his life out while slumming it in the catering business run by and old drinking buddy. He hits it off with a coworker and romantic entanglements ensue. His lack of motivation, along with his constant "Don't I know you?" troubles, make for an engaging and human series that was just strange and funny and fresh. It was a bona fide creative TV series amid a sea of banality. 

There are tons of reasons to watch this show. Scott is perfectly suited to play the surly, adorable Henry as he sorts out his life. Marino is an almost too-painful-to-watch natural as the perpetual sad sack boss of the Party Down catering crew. Lizzy Caplan, channeling the misery of Hollywood in her Casey character, is believable and well written. The rest of the cast is just as strong, with Martin Star, Jane Lynch and Megan Mullaly all bolstering the little series that could. Alumni from The State all make appearances, as do a cavalcade of wonderful headscratchers like Steve Guttenberg, J. K. Simmons, Kristen Bell and Ken Jeong. The writing is natural and flows freely, having an improvised air while being meticulously scripted. The plots and events are hysterical and rarely if ever contrived for a TV comedy. Also, who can't relate to taking a job when you need to, instead of when you want to? The underdog nature of the show is totally relatable and a genius creative choice.

It bums me out that this amazing, quality show got the ax after only two seasons, but then again I feel glad just to know it made it this far. 20 episodes is quite the run for a show this smart and funny. Usually we get stuck with dreck that lasts forever and barely a season of anything smart. Party Down shown bright and briefly. Take a look online or on DVD to see what you missed. I'm putting on an episode and tuning out as soon as I can.