Segue Way

It's raining, of course. It's March in Minnesota, so it's actually a nice change from snow. It cleans the streets and melts the snow berms, so I will gladly take it.

While I am enjoying the distraction of the weather, it's time I press on with Day 5 of the Doomtree Diatribe. Today's post won't just focus on the dusty guitars and rattling drums with which Cecil Otter supports his brilliance, it will also highlight a secret, mega album you can assemble Voltron-style via playlists. I'm gonna be a jerk and just assume you're using iTunes, but that's my choice, not yours, so you don't have to get in a twist about it. Point is, we can play cut and paste. But let's take a closer look at the contemplative poet, the George Harrison of the Doomtree crew - Cecil Otter.

Cecil Otter is another longtime Minneapolis resident, having met fellow founder P.O.S. in high school. In between skateboarding sessions he and P.O.S. got acquainted, beginning to make music shortly after. As I mentioned in the post about P.O.S. they collaborated often in their early endeavors, splitting EPs and producing beats for each other. When it came time for Cecil to do proper albums he not only enlisted former members MK Larada and Beautiful Bobby Gorgeous, but ended up creating his own as well. Cecil Otter's False Hopes served as a fantastic first album, establishing the palate with which he paints his soundscapes. Using a liberal amount of slowly creaking drum beats and broken-machine sounding samples, Cecil created a slew of wonderfully off-kilter and laid back songs, such as the epic one-two opening salvo of 'Atreyu And The Swamps of Sadness' and 'City Girl (Amuse Meant To Get Her)'. They show exactly the kind of art he would create - songs that convey his twisting and cuttingly witty wordplay in the train-hopping drifter attitude.

As any artist can tire of their own repertoire, Cecil Otter set about constructing a new album worth of material from the ground up. In both a surprising but hoped-for move, he also produced the album himself, crafting the songs from the ground up. Every dusty string, every sampled music box - they were all hand picked and arranged by Cecil himself. An advance copy of the album was completed surprisingly quickly and sold at the second annual Doomtree Blowout, held in First Avenue downtown. I was fortunate enough to pick up a copy and was amazed by the growth he displayed on just the advance version of his album. His lines were more intricately written, often times with several running and interlacing similes and metaphors that converge into one brilliant picture. The sparse, laid-back approach was more refined and unified, not simply being low-energy but a low-burning intensity that never loses its momentum. It was, though, an advance, i.e. not what was to be viewed as the final, polished offering. The actual album, Rebel Yellow, would be released just over a year and a half later with a revised track list and re-mastered production. Feeling just a hair more smoothed over and polished around the edges (and a more balanced mix), this version of Rebel Yellow was the proper album. Featuring a few key substitutions in tracks, it felt different than the advance - not worse, just a differing tone and sensibility when listened to straight through. What I began to ruminate on, though, is the merging of the two. 

I'm sure any artist would shudder at what I'm about to propose. No one wants an improperly assembled or illicit version of their work to be in the public spectrum. I understand. So, Cecil - on the off hand chance you read this, I apologize if this irks you, but the temptation was too good to pass up. Here's how it goes:

Take the final track listing for Rebel Yellow and stick it in a play list. Then, taking the tracks from the advance version, fill in the gaps on the official version, interlacing them where they would potentially have lain. There you have an expanded version. Now if you really want to be excessively nerdy take the individual tracks Cecil offered for False Hopes 13 and 15 and pepper those in. What you have, then, is the Voltron-esque Rebel Yellow that contains everything after his last album but before his next official release. A playlist would look something like this:

1999 
Poet is Rapist
Rebel Yellow
Sufficiently Breathless
100 Fathers
Untitled God
Firewalk With Me/Last Archer
The Archer & The Scarecrow
City Girl Prequel
Untitled
Forensics
Beat It Loose
Boxcar Diaries
Down Beast!
Little Demon Girl
Demon Girl
Matchbook Diaries
Le Factuer
Traveling Dunktank
Black Rose
Let Me Tell You
Duel
A Rickety Bridge

I love the idea of cut and paste albums (for evidence see my post on the conspiratorial OK Computer/In Rainbows collection). The resulting product when you make this mega-Otter playlist is a more detailed and fleshed out scene that Cecil may not have intended but illustrates his vision in a unique way. Hearing '100 Fathers' segued into the beginning of the mix gives it a new sense of relevancy to the other songs, like 'Untitled God'. The rawkus 'Black Rose' is a great follow up in and of itself to the single 'Traveling Dunktank'. The progression of the embryonic 'Demon Girl' right next to the finished version plays like a natural growth of a song, showing how ideas change over time. 

Cecil Otter is an unparalleled poet who can create a swirling mass of text around your ears that can make you weep while you raise an eyebrow at his puns. God forbid anyone is ever on the receiving end of his wit - his deftness can insult you without you even realizing it happens. So if you hear a verse about bloggers getting his albums all wrong, remind me and I'll simultaneously hang my head and shrug my shoulders. He's working on a few projects at the moment, in particular a new album and a collaborative effort with Lazerbeak where they swap beats and vocals. Do yourself a favor and keep an ear to the ground. 

Indie Darling

Happy Monday kids, another week to trudge through. 

Today is day four of the Doomtree Diatribe, which brings us to the verbose and loquacious Dessa. Dessa is the slow burning, ascendant member of the group. The only crew member to release a book of fiction, prose and poetry, the excellent Spiral Bound, she is also obviously the only female member as well. But you can tell by which characteristic I mention first is more descriptive of her role in the group. Rather than discussing the role of gender identity in hip hop ad nauseam (of which I'm sure I would do a terrible job) I'd rather spend today examining her methods of expression, which are far more prevalent in her artistic endeavors. While the music world has been abuzz with love for her latest album 'A Badly Broken Code' (and it is fantastic, you should buy it) I'm fascinated by the myriad of cuts that appeared between her first and latest offerings. 

Dessa, whom I'm guessing you already know at least a bit about if you're reading this, is another Minnesota native. Her entry into the rap world was a tentative one, having first sought out slam poetry and meeting members of her first group Medida, fellow artists Ronin and Yoni. While the group performed and recorded some material, they disbanded. When that happened Dessa was introduced to the raw and unfocused energy of Doomtree in its embryonic stage. After the crew had heard her perform and upon hearing of the demise of her group, Dessa was presented with the option of joining the burgeoning rap collective. She quickly said yes. What she brought to the table was a more refined, nuanced method of expression. Where as Mictlan and P.O.S. could volley back and forth on sheer frenetic energy, Dessa coaxed a literary sense of delivery out of the group, falling more into line with Cecil Otter's wordplay and Sims' insightful introspection. Her joining the group both influenced their delivery and writing style and hers.

Her first False Hopes EP shows this more subtle sense of song writing, with tracks like 'Kites' and '551' showing her divergent writing style. The first three tracks on the EP fall more into line with the group's ouvre, though - 'Press On' shows her rapping with the best of them, trading verses with Sims with ease. 'Mineshaft'  was a live staple for years after its release, her descriptive style displaying a depth of introspection rarely seen in the world of hip hop. Unfortunately a full five years would pass before she would offer a proper release. In the meantime, Dessa trickled out choice cuts and guest spots on her crew mates' albums. The Doomtree False Hopes, meant as a teaser before their long-awaited crew album, shows an excellent bit of her writing, the radio-ready 'Veteran'. It's such a great song with pop sensibilities that it's a wonder they didn't release it as a single - it really would sound right at home on any modern station. Knowing the Doomtree ethos, though, that would never happen. 'If And When' is a contemplative tune that almost marches forward with icy keys, a sign of where her album would go.

 When the full crew album finally was released we got a few great cuts from Dessa in particular, including the another team-up with Sims. 'The Wren' shows the two of them crafting a tale of broken hearts and trusts through the longstanding Doomtree bird terminology (a group of crows, etc.). 'Sadie Hawkins' sees her singing playfully over a funky piano beat, breaking into a Spanish rap halfway through the song. A guest spot on producer Paper Tiger's False Hopes EP has her singing in a strange new inflection, the eerie 'Speedmetal' slowly plunking along with haunting samples.  Interstingly, one of the tracks on Paper Tiger did for False Hopes 13 (with the Blowout DVD) later resurfaced with new vocals on top of it. Titled 'The Chaconne', it's a gorgeous, moving song that she has actually been performing with her younger brother accompanying her, as of late. At last year's annual Doomtree Blowout the group released another group False Hopes, this one being number 15(!!!). On it is one of Dessa's best, if over looked, tracks - the manic and confrontational 'Scuffle'. The song bears the unmistakable buzzing and stuttering guitars of a beat made by fellow MC P.O.S., and the soundscape created does indeed feel like a scuffle. Dessa displays some engaging and genuinely amusing rapping over the scrambled beats.

I'm just as fascinated by these scattered offerings as I am her staggeringly good album. Like I said, it's no surprise at all she gets such massive amounts of press when considering how talented she is, in particular the out-of-time and refreshingly genuine 'Dixon's Girl'. The video is an amazing piece as well. Still, I love that such a great artist will work to give her audience a fix, offering the occasional song to bridge the gap between releases. It reflects not only the work ethic but the changing landscape of the recording industry. While the album is still key, these individual tracks serve as a companion piece when compiled together, showing a cohesion of concepts. Dessa is one to keep an eye on, for sure. The national spotlight can't be far away.

Thinking Man's Blues

Good evening, welcome to the end of the weekend!

Additionally welcome to day three of my never ending Doomtree Diatribe. Today we look at the working man's/thinking man's rapper, your favorite bad ass and mine, Sims.

Sims is another Hopkins alumni, having met P.O.S. in high school. After buying beats off him, Sims began recording his music with P.O.S. and soon got rooked into the rap game with the newly emergent elements of Doomtree. Having released his own False Hopes EP early on, the fantastic and now out-of-print False Hopes 4, Sims released his album Lights Out Paris in 2005. Both a damning look into American culture and a call to arms to better our country and lives, the album was a fascinating glimpse into the mind of a man who is both frustrated with the world he lives in while simultaneously tries to improve it in any way possible. The album sees him digging into such diverse yet interconnected topics as the free market society, the daily grind & navigating rush hour, Bush's political landscape and his relationship with his father and the impact it had on him. It's no wonder the album received so many accolades, including the Strib's Best of 2005 list and gathering critical adoration in the online rap community.

 Unfortunately, the demand of both being a human being (working, paying rent, sleeping) and a member of the best damn rap crew around (touring, guesting, working on the highly anticipated crew album) kept Sims from the task of finishing his long awaited follow up, Bad Time Zoo. After all the pieces fell into place, though, it was finally released to the overwhelming approval of the local and national rap community. But while this album has been gathering a huge buzz, both online and via NPR (despite his understandable critiquing) what I find more fascinating is what happened between albums. To satiate the demand for his music and to satisfy his fans, Sims released an EP. Number 14 in the False Hopes canon, his EP is an interesting work in dynamics that really could warrant more love than it gets. Everyone is rightfully stoked about Bad Time Zoo, but we shouldn't forget about the EP that proceeded it.

Bearing beats produced by both members of the crew and a few outsiders, False Hopes XIV is an interesting peak into an artist in flux. At the time these songs were created, Sims was between the fury of his debut and the confidant consternation of his follow up. It essentially afforded the man an opportunity to exorcise some demons with the same demons plaguing the mood of a highly public release. While Lights Out Paris is full of clanging beats and despondent tones and Bad Time Zoo utilizes horns and strings to quantify man's plight, False Hopes XIV is a sparse, almost minimalist affair that serves as a playground for the artist fleshing out his ideas, seemingly painting as he goes. 'Like You Mean It' is a gorgeous, melancholic tune that is a fantastic warm up to the meat of the ten song EP. 'With The Fire In Its Palm' is a foggy, moody song that sees Sims spinning yarns about the people he's known, most movingly that of a soldier "who served and earned a medal - he made it home but the storm never settled". Sims is a man of the people and a heartbreaking story teller, capable of giving you just the right details to hook you in and see a real person in the lyrics. 'T C a G' utilizes a similar sharp piano loop as 'Like You Mean It' and the song shares the somber link of the tone. Showing further dichotomy to the ideas put forth, there are tracks like 'Rap Practice', where Sims shows he can still be playful and loose, not just focusing on societal strife. In it, he raps about jokingly and freely about how his "practice raps are soundin' better than your album tracks". 

There is no doubt that Sims is one of, if not the smartest rappers around. Who else would make a repeating theme, and song, out of citing Kurt Vonnegut's phrase "So It Goes"? He's the kind of man who dissects philosphy between carpentry jobs, seeing the wisdom and application in both. I'm so grateful he's getting the recognition he deserves, now that Bad Time Zoo is out. But while you enjoy his newest release, head over to the Doomtree store and pick up this fantastic, under appreciated EP.  

Living Slightly Larger

Saturday, day 2 of my multi-stage Doomtree diatribe. 

Today I want to look a little farther back in the canon and celebrate what was one of the first major outing for Doomtree, namely the first official album for P.O.S. - the curiously titled 'Ipecac Neat'. Released in 2004, the album was one of the first official records put out under the Doomtree banner and stands as some of P.O.S.'s best work, made all the more impressive by the fact that he was only 22 at the time. 

The Promise Of Stress (or Piece Of $#!% depending on his mood, born Stefan Alexander) is a lifelong Minneapolis native, having grown up here and attending Hopkins High School, where he met fellow crew members MK Larada, Cecil Otter, Mike Mictlan and Lazerbeak. Initially averse to rap and hip hop in general, in wasn't until a punk outfit he was playing with did a one-off gig as a rap-parody that the wheels turned in his head. Following the example of his friend Mike, P.O.S. took to rapping like a duck to water. He quickly became one of the best young MCs on the scene. For particular proof, track down a copy of his now-defunct group Cenospecies' first and only album - it's a fascinating look into the talented rapper's early work. His signature style is there, just not fully formed (it's a great piece of local history, if you can ever find it). When he began writing and rapping with eventual Doomtree crew member Cecil Otter they recorded and released a series of EPs, all under the title of False Hopes, not unlike, say, Nine Inch Nails' method for titling each release another in a series of Halos (Halo I, Halo II, etc.)  These Eps, (False Hopes, False Hopes Mega! and Cecil Otter's first solo foray, Hungover Seas) quickly established them as rising stars on the scene. When P.O.S. released his first full album there was no question about his talent and the potential that lay within.

The album, Ipecac Neat, is titled as such because P.O.S. wanted to conjure the image of "mental vomit" of which he identified his rapping - loose and free associating, yet personal and revelatory. Well played, sir. The album is definitely all those things and more. As an introduction to the astounding canon of material that would ensue, Ipecac Neat could serve as a primer for neophytes. Like any artist who is crafting their first album, P.O.S. drew upon the series of False Hopes eps for a couple choice cuts in addition to freshly penned (at the time) material. In particular the opener, Gimme Gunshots, is a fantastic illustration of personality contained within. The slower sections of verses show P.O.S.'s sly sense of humor and wit, cracking jokes and making winking references to the late Notorious B.I.G., even singing a bit, even if only in jest. When he switches up the rhyme scheme and tempo in the chorus we see his deft word play and knack for hooks - phrases fly by like shots and you can hardly decipher them before you're trying to catch the next line. I, personally, was hooked and blown away by the personal yet universal appeal of 'That One', an amazingly insightful song about the effects romantic entanglements. Just the opening lines had me enthralled when I first heard it "Gimme  a pen, a pad, a couch, a blanket, pillow and I'm out - I wrote this thing from 31st to Clinton foaming at the mouth, can I sleep in your den?" Those little details make his story telling very real and beleivable. The song is a heartbreaker, with P.O.S. spitting rhymes about suicide by cop and the moving refrain "I'm not waving, I'm drowning".

The whole album holds up as you listen through. 'Music For Shoplifting' is a speedy but sparse tune that makes a case for minimalism in hip hop. By crafting a beat around a broken kick-snare combo and putting just a hint of flamenco guitar on top, P.O.S.'s wit and wordplay get a chance to really shine through what is other wise a sonically dense album. Favorite line: "I'm not trying to save hip hop, I'm just trying to save my baby cousin from Jermaine Dupri". 'I Play The Matador' creates its energy and momentum seemingly out of thin air just from the beat, all snapping guitar licks and popping drums. The closer to the album, the personal 'Duct Tape', gives an even closer look into P.O.S.'s childhood and what he went through that made him who he is. The tales of home drama clearly made an impact but it gave birth to the passion on display here. Culled from an earlier ep, I'm guessing it was a natural choice for inclusion on the album. It's a moving, vivid piece of music that is quite affecting.

On a whole this is a fantastic album. I think, though, that part of the genius on display comes from the fact that P.O.S. had so much to prove when he was making it. Now, with three fantastic and varied records under his belt and all the critical adoration one could hope for, he may not have the same drive to prove his worth. On Ipecac Neat he had that desperation, the hunger of a young artist with the fire inside him. It's still there now, of course - he's tearing up the scene here and abroad, not only with solo sets and the Doomtree crew, but also with hardcore bands Building Better Bombs and Marijuana Deathsquads. He was also a highlight of the phenomenon that is Gayngs' album Relayted. all these cats are making huge waves at SXSW this year, so if you're not there, start with this amazing album and get acquainted quick, before you miss out. 

Hand Over What?

Holy Hannah, am I glad it's Friday.

As long as my week has been, one thing I can't stop obsessing over is all the amazing shows at SXSW I'm missing this year. Admittedly, I'd rather take a week off to go somewhere tropical and sit on the beach, but all that good music is too tempting. So I sit here in Minneapolis, reading constant updates about shows I can't see or movies I'll have to wait for. One thing I can console myself with, though, is the knowledge that I've had my fair shake at seeing Doomtree live. Knowing they're down there riding a huge wave of positive buzz and playing an obscene amount of shows makes me so proud of all the good things Minneapolis can create. I've dropped the Doomtree name in more than a few posts here and it's time I give them the full round of praise and explanation they deserve. Unfortunately it is literally a crew of people, so this will be no small undertaking. In order to keep this manageable I'm going to spotlight a release from each of the MCs and give proper credit to the beatmakers that make it all possible. I might end up hopping around a bit in the process but in the end there should be a nice collection of articles on the best hip hop to come out of Minnesota since Rhymesayers first made waves. First up - Mictlan and Lazerbeak's magnum opus 'Hand Over Fist'. 

Mike Mictlan is the proverbial Juggernaut of the crew - a rapper who, once he gains the momentum, cannot be stopped by any obstacle you throw in his way. His lyrical skill is unparalleled, with the ability to construct lines that approach Dada-ist absurdism in their twisted linguistics, while still maintaining coherence through complex similes and references. A Cali transplant, Mictlan spent separate chapters of his life traveling back and forth between MPLS and LA, gathering friends and influences in both states while honing his craft. His first official album under the Doomtree banner, 'Deity For Hire', was excellent and a strong indicator of things to come, but his talent and sound quickly grew beyond the parameters the album established. The album was reworked and expanded, released under the title 'Deity For Re-Hire' but again time passed and fans wanted more. Working with producer Lazerbeak, the duo set about constructing something massive. 

Lazerbeak, whom I previously wrote of in the Plastic Constellations post, was splitting time with both crews. From his time as a guitarist and vocalist in TPC he brought a refreshingly unique perspective to hip hop production, crafting beats and samples that displayed unusual musicality and sounds not often used in the genre. His songs show an affinity for real instrumentation instead of broken sounds - pianos, horns and guitars all serve as frequent backdrops for the tracks he creates. Beak and Mictlan were longtime friends and the collaboration came naturally as the two set about the long process of making the record together. What ensued is an album that is both heavy, full of banging drums and beats, while conversely musical and insightful, with Mictlan's lyrics delving into his personal life with intense candor.

To set the mood for the album, the opening, eponymous track sounds like a machine winding up in the first few seconds. When the song jumps to life, it's clear the energy is not a question here - Mictlan and Lazerbeak are going full steam, drums banging and Mike inciting the audience to hold up the signature hand signal of the crew, the bird gesture representing the Teeth & Wings of the Doomtree logo. Dropping references to ice-cold MN winds and rapping in his fluidic style, the track isn't even half over before we know exactly what the album has in store. The two lock into step and stay that way for the entire album. Tracks like 'Clam Casino' feature drop-in and out beats, with Mike bouncing along effortlessly. 'Shux' is a manic, barreling affair that features fellow crew member P.O.S. trading verses and double teaming the chorus. The song itself seems to follow the shouted instructions to grab a shovel and start digging, the beat digging farther and farther down. Maintaining the energy isn't simply a tempo trick, though. Tracks like 'Wolf Tickets' slows the pace but make up for it in the soundscape and ear-hook of the music. 'LA Raiders Hat' sees Mictlan talking about growing up in LA and it's a candid look into the rapper's life. It's easy to forget he's not solely a MN resident and his love for California is clear. 

The real standout track, however, is the album closer, which has also closed more than a few Doomtree sets. The massive and epic 'Prizefight' is an absolute highlight of what Doomtree, and Mictlan and Lazerbeak specifically, are capable of. The song is a grandly structured example of the musicality and range of styles hip hop can embody. It's essentially Mike rapping about keeping his "eyes on the prize" even though he might not know what he'd doing. It's a rundown of his life and how the passion for rapping he possesses has kept him moving forward and how it's paid off. It's also insanely danceable. The piano motif is both striking and funky, a testament to Lazerbeak's talent. Listening to this song winds the audience up no matter the occasion and it's no wonder they choose to close so many performances with it.

Hand Over Fist is an amazing album that shows just what Doomtree can do - it's all passion and drive, bolstered by insane talent and joy for the grind. Stay tuned for more posts about the crazy good music this collective can make!

Please Reunite

Hello, hello.

After yesterday's glorious surplus of a double post, today I thought I'd share something with you that is a little more personal. Friends of mine first gave me the drop on this excellent but now sadly defunct group. They were mainstays and darlings of the MPLS scene, gathering a devoted following and some national buzz until their dissolution at the hands of divergent personal lives and careers. By the time I got on board they were almost at the end of their road, releasing just one more album and doing only a handful of shows. Still, I was thrilled to hear The Plastic Constellations live just the few times I could, and their awesome music still lives on in various forms.

Formed by teenagers in the mid 90s, The Plastic Constellations (or TPC as I'll allow myself to truncate from now on) were all students at Hopkins High School. By scoring a lucky gig at First Ave early in their career, the band quickly created a buzz around their passionate sound and set to steady gigging on weekends. As years went by they continuously released record after record, making a lo-fi yet intricate canon of indie rock that is, at times, difficult to describe. When my friends introduced me to TPC and their sound, the only words he would use were "passionate" and "motivating". I honestly didn't know what to make of it, but hearing them brought the idea sharply into focus.

Turns out he was right.

The music these guys were creating was pretty much that - just passionate songs performed by intensely devoted, motivated people. While their early work certainly shows the talent they were cultivating, it's their last two albums that really move me. From the opening chord of 'Phoenix & The Faultline', the first track on their penultimate Crusades, it's all systems go. They immediately kick into high gear and don't stop for the next 36 minutes. Just the first line of the album could stand as a motif for the band's entire style and stance - "We're not going to the Belly of The Beast! We may be wrong but we refuse to just retreat!" The album never loses that momentum either - it's full bore until the last song. In a true test of their song craft, though, it doesn't become a draining affair. There's not an ounce of fat on Crusades, all the songs are fantastic. From the heavy grooves of 'Quixote' to the menacing mystic picking of 'Bring What You Bring', they throw down infectious, engaging tunes that have a life of their own.

Their final album, the epitome of their work, was the awesome 'We Appreciate You'. The album is the apex to their hard-won career. Full of the leveled-up versions of their signature riffs and whip-saw time-signature changes, the 'We Appreciate You' is an album that showed them at their A game. Songs like 'Stay That Way' and 'Black Market Pandas' are excellent examples of the band's sound. They're phenomenal mixes of the bombastic, shout-along choruses and mathematically detailed rhythms of the verses. The album is clearly TPC at their zenith, it's just a shame it had to be the end.

The one bright side to the band's demise is that they can still be heard and have an impact. They're not only a great example of what the Twin Cities can produce, but some members are still making great music, like guitarist/vocalist Aaron Mader, aka Lazerbeak. Lazerbeak makes the lava-bangers for the hip-hop collective Doomtree, who quite frankly make the best music in the Middle of America (pending post is forthcoming, give it time, people - there's ten of them). Regardless, The Plastic Constellations made some great, great rock music that is sorely missed in Minneapolis. Despite having recently reunited for a show to celebrate another Doomtree record release, there's no definite plans on the horizon. Until they do we have all their amazing albums to hold us over.

The Mystery of The Double Post

Alright kids, I promised a double post, so here we go!


I mentioned in my write up on Donald Glover and his musical endeavors that, in addition to his writing for 30 Rock and acting on Community, he also starred in the debut film from his comedy troupe Derrick Comedy. That movie, 2009's Mystery Team, is actually pretty darn funny and totally worth taking a look at if you're at all interested in the premise.

Directed by Dan Eckman and collaboratively written by Eckman, Glover, Derrick members D.C. Pierson and Dominic Dierks as well as Meggie McFadden, the movie is a hysterical take on the idea of Encyclopedia Brown/Nancy Drew type kid detectives and what happens as they grow up. In the movie Glover, Pierson and Dierks share top billing as the titular team, childhood detective heroes in their town who have since grown up yet haven't given up their business. While parents and the pressures of reality (graduating high school, attending college) bat at their subconscious, the team still spends their time solving mysteries for a dime apiece, like who stuck their finger in the pie on the window sill while still accepting payments in ice cream sandwiches. When a young girl in the neighborhood hires them to solve the mystery of who killed her parents the three detectives are forced to begin accepting their impending adulthood while investigating an actual crime. I have to confess, I think the concept is absolutely absurd and wonderful, and while the resulting film can be at times an uneven affair, it still is very funny and a great first outing for the comedy group.


The concept allows for a trio of incredibly naïve yet well-meaning characters, and the actors are all charmingly harmless as cases of arrested development. The team has their resident boy genius (Pierson), a master of disguises (Glover) and the strongest kid in town (Dierks, whose scrawny arms make it all the more absurd). The gang's reputation always precedes them, with even schoolyard hoods recognizing them before fleeing (the kid who ruined the pie: "Oh f#$%, it's the Mystery Team!" and he bolts from the swingset). SNL cast member Bobby Moynihan makes an appearance as a childhood friend/fan of the team, reminiscing about the adventures he missed out on while paying them in advance with the previously mentioned ice cream sandwiches. It's goofy stuff like this that I love - the premise for the movie allows for a very simple world view of better times in the past, which conflicts so well against the often unpleasant world around the main characters. There are other hey-it's-that-guy! moments with other NBC faces as well, like Parks & Rec's Aubrey Plaza, 30 Rock's John Lutz and Kevin Brown and The Office's Ellie Kemper. It's a wonder NBC didn't want to get involved in marketing the movie, considering how many of their actors are involved, but then again there's a fair amount of risque content to throw cold water on the idea. Oh well, their loss.

Mystery Team is a funny if at times unbalanced movie. The mystery does genuinely unfold but the humor starts to evaporate when the plot gets too serious about dolling out clues. Despite this, I found it to be genuinely entertaining and worth the look. It's available everywhere now, it seems - Netflix, On Demand, Dishnetwork. I would definitely encourage you to take a look if you've got a Friday night and you're into goofy comedies.

Accompaniment

Evening, all.


After yesterday's rantings about grilling and weather which resulted in a truncated post, I thought I'd go down the same route and just talk about a single song that's fantastic instead of having to cover an entire album. Additionally, look for another post later tonight as penance for shorter updates. Anyway, let's move on!


I wrote about Silverchair and their great album Neon Ballroom a few weeks back. After that album was released there was a bit of a hiatus for the band, and a few years passed with out a proper release. When the band went back to the studio to record the follow up, Diorama, they were older and wiser. For the first time in his career, Daniel Johns really seemed to be stretching his wings and flexing his song-writing muscles. It sounded, frankly, like he had grown up. The album that we got, as listeners, was a mixed bag - some heavy and in line with previous motifs (One Way Mule, The Lever) while others broke absolutely strange new ground (Tuna In The Brine, Across The Night). Splitting the difference for these disparate groups was a particular song that I feel really defines the band and stands as some of their best work. The song I'm referring to is the sweeping, dramatic 'Without You', the second single off the album. Ironically song is said to be a hold-over from Neon Ballroom, only reworked and expanded for Diorama after Johns decided to take more risks in his writing process.

The song is a work in almost diametrically opposed concepts, embodying both the heaviness of the group's youthful work while displaying a new sense of of melody and song structure. This newfound direction allowed the band to express more nuanced ideas while still wielding them with the weight and power of a rock group. At times on Diorama you can get a feeling that Johns had been struggling with identity and expectations, and with this album he afforded himself the opportunity to take some risks and venture, ever so slightly, out of his comfort zone. 'Without You' would be the best example of that fresh expression on the album. Played in a drop-Db tuning, the song is a momentous, heaving affair in a waltz time signature that propels itself forward with the rolling drums that evoke feelings of a symphony, only scaled back to fit the three piece band. Making great strides as a writer using major key melodies (what a novelty, right?) Johns sounds more upbeat, even if singing the anguished lines "Miles away there's hopeless smiles better than mine, and I need for you to come and go without the truth falling out." The pre-chorus shimmers with clean guitar lines, the distortion momentarily dropping out as the tension builds. When the chorus does finally hit, its a satisfying affair, all major chords and I-IV-V chord progressions. Johns' voice has grown nicely and he's able to hold higher and more varied melodies while still maintaining the rasp he used in his earlier work. The song is full of little touches that make it fantastic, like the burning hum of a sliding, electric guitar lick and acoustic flair added in towards the back half of the song.

'Without You' is a fantastic piece of power-pop. I love the song and how it has such a great sense of weight and momentum behind it, giving heft to the light touches that serve as it's structure. That's kind of the key to the piece as a whole - there's a low skeleton that supports a fragile framework and the two compliment each other very well. It really stands out as my favorite track on an album showcasing Johns' growth and risky moves. This would be their last official release for almost five years, but the band would return with vigor, offering the further endeavors in envelope-pushing that is Young Modern. I'm sure in the future I'll get a chance to do a proper write-up on Young Modern, but in the mean time give a listen to this amazing song. Hopefully you'll find it as rewarding as I do.

This Changes Things

Oh man, the sun is still shining and it's 7:00pm. How do you expect me to write anything when I just put the grill out on the deck?

Sigh.

Alright, I'll meet you half way. Instead of giving another passionate diatribe about an album that you absolutely must hear I'll focus on one particular song, thereby saving us all the effort. That song? The phenomenal and criminally under-appreciated 'Can't Change Me' by Soundgarden and Audioslave frontman Chris Cornell.

The song was the single off of Cornell's first solo album 'Euphoria Morning'. Cornell had been the singer in the massively  popular Soundgarden for ten years prior, only to strike out on his own when the band began to dissolve. If you don't know anything about Soundgarden I am sorry for your ignorance; I would then direct you to these Youtube clips for some of their best work in melodic heavy metal/grunge: Black Hole Sun, Pretty Noose and the phenomenal Burden In My Hand. Those aren't even their heaviest metal songs, but they're some of the best writing they did. Then go to iTunes and download their greatest hits. When you're caught up, come back here and read on. Go, I'll wait. 

Anyway, by the end of the 90s the band was on the way out. Their last album, the experimental and wonderfully odd Down On The Upside, saw them trying new things but it was a scattered, unfocused effort. When Cornell started working on his solo album all eyes were on him. After all, great band behind him or not, he has an unbelievable set of pipes. When the first single off the album was released, though, we were treated to a surprisingly brooding number that didn't blow the roof off the place, but set us to simmer instead. 

'Can't Change Me' is a strange tune in the best way. From the palm-muted opening notes that preface the drums kicking in with the guitar lead, it's an interesting sound in a foreign key, instead of any sludge of the overdone grunge people were expecting. The verses are all loosely strummed acoustic guitars and moaned lines of anguished envy. The song speaks of finding a woman who can have anything at all, yet he can't become a better person for her. The pre-chorus shows the spark of life - "Wait just one minute more, I can see that she's trying to free me" - and we hit the stuttered flair of the drums bringing us to the chorus proper. "She's going to change the world but she can't change me..." It's a haunting, beautiful song of desire that speaks directly to the unmotivated slacker in the audience. You want to be a better person but know you're destined to be the same loser in the end that you are going in. This attitude is strangely honest and refreshingly frank - it's not the trite "No woman can change me!" view but rather the self loathing "She'll try but she can't" that makes it unique. It's a rarely expressed view and that only adds to the already striking tune.

As I said, Cornell's voice is astounding. It's evident in the opening lines. The structure of the song is fairly by-the-numbers, but man is the song a great work that's bigger than the sum of the parts. It's haunting and moody. Unfortunately I would be hard pressed to show you anything in the ensuing time that Cornell has done that could compare to this other than MAYBE his cover of Billie Jean (which later was done by David Cook). Even worse, no one seems to know this song! How can that be? It's an amazing, moving song that has only gotten better with time and yet I've never heard it anywhere other than my own iPod. Not fair at all, world. Not at all. Take a listen to this amazing song and see what you've missed.

That Was All It Took

Happy Monday, cats. One day down, four to go. Until we get to the weekend we'll have some sunshine and warmer weather to get us through. 

Last week The Strokes were on Saturday Night Live with someone who shall not be named, While watching them play their new single 'Under Cover of Darkness' my better half remarked how it felt like a great summer song, that "we should be grilling and having a drink on the balcony!" I told her it would all come soon enough, but in the meantime we had this great new song to tide us over. It did get me thinking, though, about how fantastic their first album was - NME has actually hailed it as the album of the decade, if that says anything. 

The Strokes were New York's darlings, products of the city and making lo-fi pop songs under the guise of garage rock. Their first proper album, Is This It was unlike anything else at the time of its release in 2001 (I know, I know, but c'mon - there was so much good music that gets forgotten!). Instead of relying on over production and five part harmonies the Boy Bands were using or the bombastic idiocy by the likes of Limp Bizkit (oof), The Strokes went 180 degrees on the general movement in pop music - that is, they just wrote killer songs and played them with a lot of heart and soul. When other groups were being over produced or clinically mixed and mastered, Is This It was just a straight-ahead piece of guitar pop-rock, short and sweet. It was like a breath of fresh air. I remember vividly first hearing the single 'Last Night' and thinking it sounded both amazingly, simultaneously retraux and nouveau. It was at the forefront of the DIY revival, the garage-rock ethos making a resurgence in collective pop culture. The White Stripes and The Hives broke wide open around the same time, marking the collective zeitgeist.

Interestingly, rather than being a drab, simplistic affair, the album is deceptively complex. Rarely do the bass lines just double the guitar; they often run in contrapuntal or divergent lines that have their own sense of melody. I think what really sums up the feel of the whole album is front man Julian Casablancas describing what the overall aim was in recording Is This It: he wanted it to feel like a "band from the past took a time trip into the future" to record this record. The result was the urgent, vibrant work of New Yorkers throwing down, piece by piece, a quick and dirty record of power pop. Clocking in at just a hair under 37 minutes, there's not an ounce of fat on the album. Not to say songs don't have  a chance to grow, rather they just do so in an incredibly concise and efficient way. You know how the rest of the world looks at New Yorkers and the way they plow through the sidewalks, never slowing down or stopping to gawk at anything? Same thing with this album, just straight ahead, no slowing down, get the job done. You would hardly know it though, from the opener. The titular Is This It? gets off to an almost lackadaisical start, the drums barely chugging as the incredibly hooky, descending guitar line reminiscent of the Pixies kicks in(Gil Norton produced the album, who had done extensive work with the Pixies). The bass hops and leaps in little jumps as Casablancas moans his lines and brings us to the chorus, where everything synchs up and we get a real sense of what's happening. It's new but with the sense of history that signaled it as part of the movement in pop culture that is constantly winking at the past. Irony is part of everything that happens now, it would seem. This album was first in on the joke.

While the afore-mentioned 'Last Night' was the big single off the album, to me it was eclipsed by the infinitely superior follow-ups 'Some Day' and 'Hard To Explain'. Both songs are catchy in their unrelenting momentum. The jangly strumming of 'Some Day' provokes an almost instinctual head bob with it's laid back but fervent energy. Like my fiancée described the new single, this song instantly conveys the sunny days of summer, shooting the breeze and sharing drinks in a warm breeze. Maybe that's not NY but it's how a couple kid from MN chose to partake. The other in the pairing, 'Hard To Explain', rides a little harder, and while it has an insanely catchy melody it still pushes the band harder and faster than anything else on the record. Casablancas' wailing is phenomenally realized here, and when he gets to the word-salad that is the chorus you don't necessarily follow his exact phrasing but the attitude is there, regardless. That seems to be the real vibrancy to the whole thing, anyway - you may or may not be in on all the references but it hooks you regardless, and once it does it's a hard album to shake.

The Strokes have followed this incredible first effort with some strong follow ups, but nothing quite possesses the same punch and joix de vivre as this record. It's fantastic and comprehensible, the rare rock record that anyone can understand yet is impossible to really dissect. It's no wonder it has such a sterling reputation. I have to say I'm incredibly excited for what they have to offer later in the month, hipster darlings or no. They make great, gratifying pop songs that are unparalleled. Let's keep our ears open, shall we?