"In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new"
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Smashing Pumpkins, "SuperChrist"
The blogosphere may be pushing this new Pumpkins track down your throat like it's the best thing to drop from Corgans guitar and Chamberlain's drums since Mellon Collie, but it's still missing something.
You want to buy into the heavy guitar riffs, Chamberlain's thundering drums and the all-so welcome violin interlude, but somehow the song just never moves past the sonic insanity into coherency. It starts strong, but for some strange reason stays in 1st gear without shifting up to 5th, or even 3rd.
Ultimately the song reacts the same to this treatment as my aging 1993 Ford Escort, it screams loudly, threatens to blow up, and finally grinds to a stop. It's got so much potential, unlike most of Zeitgeist, but Corgan just can't turn it all the way on.
http://www.patrolmag.com/index.php?id=296 I had a huge bitter entry written last night about "Things I Don't Know," (Wolf Parade) but then God decided it was better I didn't publish my vitriolic prose and killed the internets.
Let's try a short little ditty to a song that you've probably already heard of, from a band you've probably been listening to longer than me.
Waving Flags is one of those incongrous monumentally epic songs that just doesn't say what you think it should. Shackling itself to lyrics hardly deserving of the riffs which soar on top of the wave of sound created by the swirling guitars, Waving Flags creates a mood that's better left unexamined.
Maybe the guys just have an incredible sense of self-deprecating humor, but when they drop lines like,
Beer is not death/Beer is not life/ It just tastes good/Especially tonight
You can't help but smile.
But if you smile too much, you might miss the real point of the song, that life, it's all a joke and that we're only here for a little while, waving our flags in the sky until we sleep in the dirt.
The abyss staring message may not accurate, but it's still one of those fist pumping melodies that you always feel like turning up loud after a pint or two.
Take a strong serving of the Arcade Fire's epic sense of tragedy (yes I know BSP has been around before the Fire), a cup of the Verve's depression, and just a pinch of U2 and you might be able to recreate this song. It's not going to change your life, but it just might let you hip sway for a few more minutes.
I've had trouble getting into BSP's latest work, "Do You Like Rock Music?" because it seems like there's less rock music inside the track listing and more wandering directionless grandiose melodramatic sound. "Waving Flags" may be just the, "in" I've been looking for.
If you’ve even heard of this backroom-concept folk-rock band, you would know that Sleep Station albums are dark, lo-fi, and obsessed with strange stories seeming more at place in a fusion of twisted 1980’s B-grade science fiction and Tim Burtonesque romance, than an indie-rock folk album. While this manifestation of front man Dave Debiak’s schizophrenic artistic personality rarely packs the same seductive qualities as his 80’s synth-rock persona, New London Fire, there’s still a quiet charm that just might make you press repeat. When it comes to Sleep Station’s seventh release, The Pride of Chester James, quiet charm isn’t enough to transform this subtle love story tale of a circus drifter into a completely coherent and captivating musical story—but don’t throw the album away yet. While it isn’t perfect, it’s hardly worthy of a straight up/down witty hipster cult-referencing dissection or fawning, masturbatory love note.
The problem of The Pride of Chester James, is the same problem that seems to plague the majority of Sleep Station’s releases—you lose track of the story and songs. That’s not such a bad thing when it’s done in small doses, example: the Von Cosel EP which, in the span of five tracks, managed to tell a soft, haunting and slightly twisted love story, but Debiak’s grandiose artistic visions lose some of their punch when extended across an entire LP. While he says that he writes songs partially because he can’t make movies, the dark stories underlying Sleep Station’s cinematic releases never get fully explored. Debiak’s writing style tends to lean towards vague characterizations that lack a coherent and identifiable main character. This leaves the listener torn by the haunting lyrics, but completely unable to place these emotions within the context of a concrete artistic vision or framework. That may be a stumbling block but it just might also be the whole point.
“I know in the past my records have gotten a lot of shit for being concept records that are too vague in the story line,” said Debiak, in a Myspace bulletin. “I’d have to agree but only because I never tried to make a concept record. Every record I have done as Sleep Station has been thematic in its nature, not trying to tell a story but just create a mood.”
While I originally thought I understood Chester James, by the time I hit this paragraph I wasn’t entirely sure what to say. What do you do when your biggest problem with the music is the exact point that the artist is trying to make?
I dug up my copies of After the War and Von Cosel and put them on repeat as I drove around the backroads of Virginia and delayed doing physics homework for another hour. As I listened to “Elena,” and “Caroline, 1940” I remembered why I used to swear by this band. It wasn’t Debiak’s nicotine hook-writing ability that kept my finger from hitting forward, it was his talent at making your brain turn off, and your heart take control. The challenge is to create a mood that is ambiguous enough to still be a concept, yet focused enough for people to understand and slip into. When Debiak can walk that fine line, Sleep Station is something absolutely beautiful; other times the songs just flounder aimlessly.
Because Debiak says that he’s not trying to create a concept album, just a mood, the packaging and song titles seem to beg for some type of coherent understanding and interpretation. That’s what’s so frustrating about listening to the album. You’ll be whisked off into the carnival lifestyle in “Hello Mr. Coughlin,” a Springsteen/Garfunkel cross begging to be classified as Americana, and then you’ll lose all track of any story when you run into the meandering amnesia-inspiring “Under the Lights.” You hit the heartbreaking folk ballad, “Tired of Me” and then the dragging “Paris,” before the powerful lines, “and if it rains, there will be two of us alive” (in “Anna”). That’s what you get with The Pride of Chester James—a mixture of the mundane and the divine. When you’re not falling into the lush sweeping sounds of Debiak’s soaring voice or riding on top of the soulful folk ballads, you’re tripping over the unfocused songs that just never get going.
When other people close their eyes and fall asleep, the dreams dancing in their heads are perfectly defined 2.5 hour masterpieces with complete and coherent storyline for all characters running through their slumbering and drooling head—my mind doesn’t work like that. The ideas and shapes controlling my somnolent creativity rarely leave more than vague impressions when they finally fade out into the screaming morning alarm, but the absence of details doesn’t necessitate the emptiness of emotion. Sleep Station creates albums that belong in dreams; dreams that forgive missteps, meanderings and monochromatic melodrama. Take The Pride of Chester James as a dream, and you’ll enjoy every minute. If you have to open your eyes, you can’t help but wish that Debiak would turn his amazing talent at creating moods towards fashioning a complete, intricate story. It’s his artistic choice not to do so, but grab Von Cosel if you want to hear him at his mood-creating finest.
This was right up there with Arcade Fire as one of the greatest shows of the year, if not my entire life. I’ve got paragraphs of praise in my journal just dying to get out into public view, but I’m afraid if I let most people read those thought, they might become completely convinced that I’m a trip-head of colossal proportions.
You’d have to be completely unemotional not to buy the stuff Greg Gillis (Girl Talk) and Dan Deacon were selling that sultry night at the Black Cat, and I’m anything but that. I’d ingested a foot long Subway and a Vitamin Water mixed with red bull and I would need every possible legal substance to hang with the dance crazy trip loving marathon. It started with the slow trance of White Williams, and by the time Dan Deacon had set up his green glow skull on the floor, the crowd was suffocating every free bit of space around the geek star. Deacon drops this insane blend of thumping beats which reach down inside of you and seem to pull something entirely new out of your body and soul, but then he mixes that intoxication with these carefree melodies on top that never let the mood get too serious. The sweat was pouring throughout his hour long set, and the crowd seemed to fuse closer together with each pulsating bass line. He’d take those lines, start them slow, and build them faster, faster, and higher, yellow lights flash until finally exploding with a thunderous explosion that would see everything go dark except for this green skeleton that was at the center of the mass of humanity.
And then it stopped.
We breathed deep. Tried to slow our hearts, dry our faces, and find our clothes. You put your face up, because up was the only way you could get any type of air unspoiled by 200 people breathing it before you. And then the lights went dark again.
The screen started to blink. (girl talk repeat/cascade) and then this little voice over the speakers started the mantra: “girl talK/ girl taLK/ girl tALK/ girl TALK/girL TALK/ giRL TALK/ gIRL TALK/GIRL TALK.” A sunglassed, dark-haired hoodie kid came out, threw a plastic guitar into the audience, and asked D.C if, “y’all are ready to party.” Flipped open a laptop, clicked a few buttons, a bass line started to pulse. “Hold up, hold up, wait a minute, wait a minute.”
Then the lights and stage exploded.
I ripped my knee open trying to climb up on the stage. We fought past the two security guards, surrounded the already sweating gillis. And the insanity began. He sat there. Pushing buttons, checking levels, feeling every note before it emerged—our job was to feel it once it came out of the speakers. There was a glow in the dark 10 foot tall spider with shades in the corner, and every inch of the stage was pulsating with a mass of flailing body arms and lips.
No one can be cool at a Girl Talk show, too much sweat and too little space, but every single person can pretend that they’re in a room of their very best friends, most of them trashed, dancing to a scrapbook of their favorite songs. Grace was lusting over Greg, begging me to take a picture of her touching his hand, Kimbell disappeared off the stage and onto the gyrating floor, I just tried to stay standing up.
I wanted to capture every single moment of the night, but Girl Talk isn’t meant to be captured, it’s meant to be lived. You’re not going to understand it from Youtube clips, album cuts, or even from sitting at the bar. You’ve got to be on the floor with Gillis, lustfully calling for each and every song to take you to a place that you’ve never been, and for the people around you to take you there with them.
You don’t know who you’re dancing with, you don’t know who’s behind you, you don’t know why you just took off your shirt and tied it around your head like a bandana—you just know that the music told you to move, and you’ve got to move.
Even when the music stopped talking, when the power got unplugged from the thundering movement, when the P.A. lit up to ask if you knew _____ because both of them had fallen and were with an ambulance outside, even then people kept moving, kept chanting—they didn’t control their bodies anymore, Gillis did, and he hadn’t said to stop.
He was the voice of our fragmented insanity, telling us to forget all dreams of rational existence—we gladly followed. Girl Talk was about letting go of all pretension and plugging into a completely equal existence as a worshiper of the muse of rhythm. When he finally closed with a screaming cover of “Scentless Apprentice,” catapulting into the crowd, it was our cue to be released.
Standing in the cold black air outside, I felt like every adrenaline gland in my body had been emptied, my body kept trembling, my hair was wet, and somehow, I’d never think of a concert the same way again. Maybe that’s because Girl Talk isn’t a concert, it’s a mass experience with Gillis as the conductor. I don’t know if I could handle riding with Gillis everyday, probably wouldn’t be healthy, but dear bacchus, hold on tight, because when I go again, it’s going to be crazy.
Christmas came early last Friday, and, for once in my life, I didn’t feel profoundly under whelmed when the last gift was opened. I’ve been hyping Andy Zipf and his Pfriends on Pfilm tour for the last few months, and, as this opening date at S.O.T.A. in Fairfax got close, I tried to prepare myself to be disappointed. It’s not that I didn’t believe the gushing words pouring out my mouth about Zipf, but my beliefs and humanity’s abilities don’t always coincide. I’ve got this bad habit of idealizing things like human love, drug use, and musicians. Two of those three things, I’ve been disappointed with, and I’m still dreaming without acting on the third.
Whether it’s a monstrosity of a venue, too many hyper-chatty fans, or just an off night for the band, I’ve walked out of far too many shows saying, “That was great, but…”
If you didn’t guess it by now, let me just clue you in, this story doesn’t end that way.
That may be the ending, but the beginning of the night started back at my frigid school where three of the six people who promised they would come see Zipf decided that they had better things to do with their evening. (Better things = snowboarding, custodial work, and an all-night, all-man, Unreal Tournament marathon. Seriously).
After meeting up in Reston with another group of people, we tried to find S.O.T.A. If a musician also had a part-time job dealing drugs, S.O.T.A. would be his venue of choice. It’s a converted warehouse that you probably wouldn’t find unless you were carefully scanning each of the dimly lit entrances, and made more than one person feel a tiny bit out of place. Diamond in the rough would be a poor description for this cozy venue though; “sanctuary” would be more appropriate.
Forget the open-bar conversation prelims though, and skip straight to the moment when Fredericksburg, Va., scene rockers Tereu Tereu (thank you T.S. Elliot for the name) took the floor. Good bands don’t require you to intimately know their entire catalogue before appreciating their live show and led by the fuzzy face of lead singer Ryan Little, Tereu Tereu sprinted and flailed their way through a set that sounded like fourteen different bands and no other bands, all at the same time. I think that’s called originality. If you took Thom Yorke’s most frenetic performance combined it with the seductively smooth riffs of Spoon, threw in TVOTR’s sweating intensity, and then topped it all off with a jazz band fresh from Jackson Square—you just might get Tereu Tereu.
It’s rare to hear an up and coming band crafting an original and inventive style, rather than just recycling the latest “experimental” fad into a microphone while staring at their shoes, overwhelmed by their grandiose sense of importance to this new changing world of music. Tereu Tereu enjoys what they do, does that well, and that means something.
Now take a deep breath, because Zipf and company (Pete Lim and Brad Wolf) disappeared while you were watching the microphone, and after the lights go dark and come back up, you’re not going to be in the same tightly packed warehouse staring at the wall.
It started with darkness, and Zipf’s haunting voice crooning, “Oh child, are we going down?” The guitar sped up, the drums beat in, and the lights burst onto Zipf and drummer Pete Lim, dressed all white with sheepish, “can you believe what’s happening?” grins covering their faces.
You can’t describe Pfriends on Pfilm in words. I remember Andy telling me his idea back in September at this small coffee shop, and he used these phrases like, “projecting onto my body and onto the screen,” and, “images that will match the themes and moods of the songs,” and, “I was inspired by Sigur Ros.” I nodded at the time, but honestly, I couldn’t imagine anything that Andy could put together independently that could accurately reflect such a spectacular artistic vision.
Carefully crafted by Brad Wolf, the colors, images and footage rolled across and around Zipf and Lim, creating an ocean of music that threatened to wash past the microphone and into the wide eyed crowd. Zipf has always been an incredibly talented musician, but playing by yourself with just a guitar can only take you so far. On Friday night, the packed room at SOTA witnessed what would happen if this D.C. rocker was allowed to make his musical visions into reality.
It was one of those sets where you weren’t allowed to get bored, distracted or ready for the song to change. The entire room cared only about Pfriends on Pfilm and wherever Zipf’s vision might take them. That vision took people from the pounding “Last to Know,” to the soulful moments of “Give All,” the bitter “Fields of Morning” and the sarcastic “You, Me and the Games People Play.”
While Zipf is a fantastic guitarist who deserves more respect for the living sound created by his innovative riffs, his voice is what drives his appeal. He would step away from the microphone and over the drums and screaming guitar; his voice would still soar through the entire room and control every other element. Zipf is no Bono. He doesn’t dominate the room through a preening, seductive front man persona—but that doesn’t mean you can look away.
Zipf commands the attention of every person in the room through an artistic fury burning through his powerful words, careful calculated movements and a controlled stare that leaves little room for emotional detachment. When he closed with an absolutely paralyzing version of “Your Fire,” he took the heartbeat of every person in the room, wrapping it around scorching guitars and thunderous drums that almost matched the nightmarish acid trip being projected across the room. When the lights went dark, Lim went out the door, Zipf left a slow loop repeating through the room, and slipped behind a curtain.
If “Your Fire” was the fantastical nightmare, then the encore of “My Love will Remain,” was your best dream. This tour was about hope, and Zipf left me believing that beautiful music could still be found in still, quiet places.
I read this short story one time about this man who missed out on traveling to an utopist alter-dimension simply because he arrived at the departure point, a barn filled with people sitting on the floor, and was so unimpressed by the surroundings that he thought it must be a hoax. As he walked out the door, he heard something, and turned only to see the upturned faces sitting on the floor illuminated by a strange light and a haunting split-second glimpse into paradise. He tried to open the door again, but by the time he got it open, the room was empty. For the rest of his life, this man was haunted by the fruits of his impatience.
If you only knew what you missed that Friday night at S.O.T.A, you’d feel like you missed your chance at Eden, too.
When I informed a nameless individual of Hispanic descent that this song had been on repeat in my room, I got one response,
“Dude, you’re gay.”
Insensitive and offensive comments aside, while I think I understand what attracts me sexually, I’m still cataloguing those musical combinations which will ensnare my ear drum on multiple occasions.
This song illustrates an ongoing love in my life for sexually explicit, normally offensive rap set to addictive pseudo-indie pop anthems. Whether it’s Girl Talk dropping Biggie over “Tiny Dancer,” or A-Trak laying Kanye on top of “Heartbeats,” melody allows the chance for transcendence.
I’m not going to lie; I’m not the biggest rap fan. The Notorious B.I.G. uncensored almost made me vomit, Akon makes me long for deafness, and 50 Cent just makes me laugh. Rap shouldn’t be written off the artistic spectrum, and even in its lowest depths of depravity, there’s still just a glimmer of beauty.
Like when mash-up legends, The Hood Internet throw Rilo Kiley’s Moneymaker with its rap counterpart, courtesy of Ludacris. It took me one listen to realize that it would be hard for a song to top this one for blatant sexuality, but I still clicked repeat. That flirtatious little bass line from “Under the Blacklight” slides underneath lyrical pornography such as, “Let me give you some swimming lessons on the _____/ Backstroke, breaststroke, stroke of a genius,” and you can’t help but turn the volume up.
But just when my ears started to feel completely warped, Jenny Lewis’s PG-13 rated seduction bounces in, and you’ve returned from full-on perversion to side-show titillation.
You probably shouldn’t listen to this song. It will probably encourage horrible tendencies in your morality and artistic appreciation that will worsen your moral character and encourage the downward slide of American culture and society.
You probably really want to listen to it though, Moneymaker
This is Andy Zipf, and he wants to be your friend.
Your “pfriend,” as he likes to say.
He’s got a tour, it starts tonight in Fairfax, Virginia and over the next few weeks Zipf will be bringing a musically mind-blowing sensory explosion to mid-America—it’s called Pfriends on Pfilm.
Andy ZipfHumor him and don’t write him off as clichéd, just because he thought it was clever to play off the ending of his name and uses the (pf) in place of (f) whenever possible. If a love for semi-clever wordplay is Andy’s biggest flaw in life, it’s hardly worth giving him a hard time, because the gorgeous pop ballads he writes the rest of the time can seduce the ear of even the most jaded listener.
Andy Zipf has been one of those musicians that I’ve found myself believing in over the last months. I’ve been helping him get the word out about his new tour, Pfriends on Pfilm, but I’ve also been getting to know this eccentric long-time D.C. musician and honestly, I like what I’ve seen.
I’ve seen a man who believes that music is art and should be treated as such. A love for his listener and a love for his art provided the impetus for his latest and most ambitious vision, the Pfriends on Pfilm. With the help of Pete Lim and Brad Wolf, Zipf’s created a 45-minute live concert experience that’s anything but your typical shoegazing troubadour performance posturing. Still images and old film fuse with live video shot during the concert and are thematically projected onto a screen, while Zipf and his band provides a live soundtrack. Basically, think Sigur Ros meets Damien Rice and the Velvet Underground.
These gushing paragraphs illustrate why I’m a horrible rock writer, and why I still have to pay to go to shows: I believe in music, it’s not an academic exercise for me, and my favorite band is U2. (What kind of self-respecting snob would ever admit to that?)
So, get to know Andy Zipf through these ten quick questions and then go see him at one of these locations.
Jan 18 | 9:00P SOTA Fairfax, Virginia Jan 19 | 8:30P The Watershed, Lexington, South Carolina Jan 20 | 8:00P Village Tavern Charleston, South Carolina Jan 21 | 8:00P CJ’s Gallery, Franklin, Tennessee Jan 22 | 8:00P Pour Tuscaloosa, Alabama Jan 23 | 8:00P Soundpony, Tulsa, Oklahoma Jan 24 | 8:00P Front Porch, Springfield, Missouri Jan 25 | 8:00P Blinks Ames, Iowa Jan 26 | 8:00P Uncle Freddy’s Gallery, Highland, Indiana Jan 27 | 6:00P 3rd Floor, Fredericksburg, Virginia Feb 02 | 7:00P Apple Store, Tysons Corner/McLean, Virginia
Nathan Martin: Why Pfriends on Pfilm? Why go to all this work, why not just tour?
Andy Zipf: Why not? I’ve always wanted to do a show like this, and I am not one for waiting for things to happen for me. I like to move ahead, even if I have to figure things out along the way. I am happy with the way this performance is taking shape. I think my pfriends will enjoy it as well.
NM: What’s the story behind Pfriends on Pfilm, the presentation itself. Is there a unifying theme?
AZ: About four or five months ago, I began to talk with Pete Lim (drums/keys/vocals) and Brad Wolf (V.J./new media artist) about the concept. They were into it right away. We got together and brain stormed about the show a few times, figured out a time frame for the tour and I starting booking it. Rehearsals began in early December. We didn’t have a name for the show, until I thought “Hey, friends…film…Pfriends on Pfilm.” It’s a play on “Zipf” and just seemed to work. There is a common thread throughout the set, in the songs and the images, but I would like people to interpret the show for themselves. It’s not something that I can really put in to words, and that is the whole point. They’ll have to see it and hear it to know what it’s about.
NM: When people walk out of Pfriends on Pfilm what do you want them to feel?
AZ: I want them to feel elated. The best shows I’ve ever been to left me buzzing. I escaped a little. I hope people leave feeling that way.
NM: What do you love about music, what is music to you? AZ: Letting go. Getting free.
NM: D.C. is hot with politics. Has Andy Zipf ever gotten involved, through a protest song, etc.?
AZ: I don’t have any songs that are specifically political, but I would say my general distrust of politicians trickles in and out of my writing. I have covered some songs that you might call protests. I’ll be playing one on this tour, actually. “You and Me and the Games People Play,” by Joe South.
NM: Do you have any formal music training, what got you into the profession?
AZ: I don’t have any formal training, but my mom is a music teacher. She taught piano and voice in our house, so I’ve overheard many a theory lesson in our living room. My mom tried teaching me, but I was too impatient. I wanted to write songs right away. From piano, I moved to guitar. I would say from about 8th-12th grade I went home every day and played alone for hours in the basement. I actually started recording then, too. I decided then I would play music, however I could. Things look differently now then they did in my head then, but I am alright with that. I’m doing what I love. It’s funny, I don’t think about what I do as a profession. It’s just who I am.
NM: What advice would you give to a band just starting out?
AZ: Don’t wait. Don’t give up. Don’t hold back. Don’t listen to them. Quit your day job, get in a van and go find your audience. Don’t be afraid of not knowing what will happen.
NM: If you had five minutes to choose five albums that have changed your life, what would they be?
AZ: OK Computer (Radiohead); Urban Hymns (The Verve); Agaetis Byrjun (Sigur Ros); Grace (Jeff Buckley); Achtung Baby (U2). If I had six minutes and six albums: Pet Sounds (Beach Boys).
NM: Five favorite books?
AZ: The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand); Lord of the Rings (J.R.R. Tolkien); A&R (Bill Flanagan); The Future of Music (Dave Kusek and Gerd Leonhard); Traveling Mercies (Anne Lamott). NM: What was the last live show that blew you away?
AZ: Secret Machines at the 9:30 club a few months ago. Stellar. A proper rock show. I left elated.
I’ve got a special place in my heart for Over the Rhine, even when I don’t feel like I’m in a place where my heart identifies with theirs.
Not going to lie, it’s hard to listen to a couple who love each other this much. Even when you go back to the angst of “Ohio,” you still feel like you’re not really sure that you can identify with Linford and Karin, except in the sense that you wish that kind of love could exist in your own life.
Heroic love that could cause such passionate tenderness and love between a singer and a hat wearing pianist seems to be a rarity in this reality, and it’s not easy to completely buy into their poetic expressions of love.
“I Want You to be my Love,” is Over the Rhine at its best, or absolute worst.
If you are in love, you’ll remember why you are the luckiest individual in the world.
If you are out of love, you’ll feel a profound sense of emptiness, loss, and possibly a moist face.
This video, created by “Fly” is probably one of the most beautiful things I have seen in a long time. This is art, in every sense of the word.
Camera angles, story telling, originality- there is little this director doesn’t touch with his masterful hand.
The only way it could have been more compelling is if he had written the song himself, but somehow he pays tribute to Karin and Linford and you feel like this is what viewing the world through their eyes might look like- right down to the hat.
I’m in a state of shock right now after watching this. I can’t believe it’s not an official video.
Yes. This song has been out for quite a while. No. This band will not change your life.
But you should still listen to this song.
Yesterday, the Spree released a video for “We Crawl,” off their 2007 rollicking semi-political romp, “The Fragile Army” and baby, if this video won’t make you smile, you’ve got less emotion in your soul than Hillary and Fred Thompson combined.
I’ve got a soft place for the Spree, partially because I love the fact that they put 23 people on stage during their shows, partially because they actually enjoy playing music, and mostly because when I listen to their music or go to their shows, my mood goes up, up, and away. (Yeah, I know that wasn’t clever).
This song was one of my favorite cuts off the album in the sense that it got at what the Spree was all about; we’re small, tired and hurt, but somehow with the help of our friends, life is going to be ok. No one cares if you’re perfect and no one really expects you to be.
The Spree is (are) about shared happiness, sadness, and absolute exhilaration, and that’s what this video’s all about.
To quote: “Video cameras, film and loose instructions were sent to all 23 members of the band. The band shot all of the footage themselves. Hundreds of hours of footage were sent to Harper who crafted the video. It features band leaders Tim DeLaughter and Julie Doyle with their family in an intimate and rare look at the usually hyper-dramatic Spree.”
So just click, watch, and remember even if this band might scare you a little bit- they’ve created a family of support and love.
Not a bad thing to have in this world. (originally on Patrol Mag )
This is another one of those bands that I’ve got more than just a musical affection for. Since I started listening to Sleep Station many years ago, lead singer Dave Debiak has found a way to capture my heart and ear drums far too many times.
With his side project, New London Fire, Debiak didn’t disappoint my long held love. I Sing the Body Holographic was seductive, catchy, and oh so powerful (lyrically). It was hardly perfect, but in the world of music, I’d take it over many other best selling releases.
With the amount of material Dave produces, this new song, “Here I Am,” may not end up on the next N.L.F. CD. But that would be a shame. “Here I Am” goes back to some of the same traits that made their last album such a pleasure to imbibe- rich musical landscapes, coupled with layers of powerful vocals and beautiful lyrics.
What Debiak is so good at, is creating music that, for lack of a better word, seems to stretch out in the listeners consciousness, pulling people along a musical journey that no one wants to leave. His latest story tracks a man’s love for a girl.
While it borders slightly on obsession (what good love story doesn’t?), the song comes off more as a song of salvation rather than stalking.
“I’ve come to take you home…here I am, take my heart, i still feel the pulse of you inside my arms, it’s not love I won’t pretend, it won’t take that long and if it ends, the words will carry on into your heart and then they will follow you through this world, saying you’ll always be my girl.”
See the thing is though, when the bridge kicks in at 2:47, you’re going to be absolutely captivated with the way Debiak layers a chanting chorus underneath his pleading words- it creates this sense of urgency that adds a nice balance to the song’s pop feel.
I don’t know where Debiak’s going to take this new album, but honestly, he’s never disappointed me with any of his other stuff. My biggest confusion? Why more people haven’t gotten into this band. Your loss. My gain.
Jan 18 2008 9:00P SOTA Fairfax, Virginia Jan 19 2008 8:30P The Watershed Lexington, South Carolina Jan 20 2008 8:00P Village Tavern Charleston, South Carolina Jan 21 2008 8:00P CJ’s Gallery Franklin, Tennessee Jan 22 2008 8:00P Pour Tuscaloosa, Alabama Jan 23 2008 8:00P Soundpony Tulsa, Oklahoma Jan 24 2008 8:00P Front Porch Springfield, Missouri Jan 25 2008 8:00P Blinks Ames, Iowa Jan 26 2008 8:00P Uncle Freddy’s Gallery Highland, Indiana Jan 27 2008 6:00P 3rd Floor Fredericksburg, Virginia Feb 02 2008 7:00P Apple Store - Tysons Corner Mclean, Virginia
New London Fire is one of the smoothest undiscovered bands on the music scene today. Headed up by multi-tasking frontman Dave Debiak (Sleep Station) the band’s freshman release, I Sing the Body Holographic, is anything but disappointing. Lush, powerful, expansive and absolutely danceable, their single “Different” is one of the most impressive tracks and catchy tracks I’ve heard in a long time. The rest of the album isn’t perfect, but it’s a gorgeous effort nonetheless and worthy of far more than the limited press the band received.
Over the summer Debiak talked about his inspiration for the album, his vision for the future, the struggles of everyday life, and the state of the music business. Due to many technical difficulties and catastrophic circumstances (surrounding the death of a laptop) this interview was lost for publishing, until now. At least one of the unnamed albums Debiak refers to in the interview would end up being the Pride of Chester James, released with Sleep Station later this fall. NLF is apparently going to still release another album. Check out NLF at http://myspace.com/newlondonfire and Sleep Station at http://myspace.com/sleepstation .
(Note: I’m anything but a concise directed interviewer, so for the sake of conciseness, this interview has been condensed and rearranged some. Hopefully the flow still works).
NM- What made you decide to start a new band after your success with Sleep Station?
DD- I don’t know what happened, I think we were just doing a record and we started playing with some new guys and we started getting a new feel about stuff and we just decided, ‘You know what, let’s do this something else.’ Pretty simple train of thought, just didn’t feel very Sleep Station at the time.
NM- Needed to change things up?
DD- Yeah, the new guys we were playing with, just felt different, just going in a different direction, just thought we’d go with it.
NM- Where did this album come from?
DD- Once you start playing with a group of guys and you start getting a feel of something, you just go with something. I went out one night, this guy was having a bachelor party, known him since I was a kid and we’ve been friends for years. We’re just not similar to each other, but we’ve been friends since kids. So I went to his bachelor party and he had a limousine that was just blasting techno music all night long. Then I got to the club and it was blasting techno and then it was a strip club and it’s really not my thing you know. Maybe it was just this particular place, or this particular night, but I was actually kind of disturbed. So I went home the next day and decided I wanted to write a techno song. But, it didn’t come out that way. More or less, it’s just writing things that had little more of a beat, a little more experimental with some keyboard. A lot of the content lyrically is about that whole situation and there are a lot of songs in there about a man who is in love with a prostitute. There are so many angles to the whole record, but now that I’m done with that record, I’m done with that sound.
NM- It’s an interesting sound and you know Sleep Station had this weird folk sound to it, and NLF had more of a post-80’s feel.
DD- Yeah, and I got it out of my system and I’m ready to move on.
NM-Before we talk about the new album, lets talk about the Body Holographic, it’s a dark album, more inspiration.
DD- It was more from a dark perspective. I don’t really write well from a happy perspective. I guess that’s just the way it is, I’ve always had this back and forth thing that I was writing about a prostitute and just trying to figure out how the emotion of love got lost on somebody that deeply, there’s a tremendous amount of things that would have to happen for a person to get to that point, and can they get back from something like that. Can that emotion still be found and nourished? That’s dark. It could be taken as something as something more than that, it’s pretty beautiful.
NM- Can you tell me about the video Nadine, that’s a creepy video,
DD- Steve grew up in my house, best friends with my brother and has always been a tremendous artist, and he loved that song, I said to him, almost half-ass, you should do a video about that song, one of your videos. He said, “I’d love to” and showed up at my house with that thing one day.
NM- I still remember the first time I watched it, so powerful.
DD- Yeah and it’s unexpected, I didn’t not expect him to show up with it. I was pretty moved, I thought it was great.
NM- How hard was it going from the EP to the album, it took you awhile, what happened?
DD- There was a lot of hold ups. That’s a good observation I don’t think that most people were paying attention to that. There were just a lot of label things trying to figure out a good time to drop the record, who would actually do the record. In retrospect I would love to see the record out and I would love to have another one out by now.
NM- When you go from writing concept albums to this more pop-ish type, how hard is that?
DD- I don’t think any of them are concept albums, I think that’s a term that when people think of concept albums, they are immediately thinking of different of what I’m doing. I’m just writing from a vibe, or an emotion. It’s thematic, it’s coming from that perspective. If you listen to any record ever made, there’s something that everyone writes about. You know maybe, protesting something or falling in and out of love with someone. Every record is thematic in a sense. That’s just all I was doing, it’s just a little more literal in it’s presentation, because I write from a very cinematic perspective. When we release the album we want to release it from a cinematic perspective. It’s what it is.
NM- I remember how you wanted to make movies but you wrote songs.
DD-Well both, because I write the songs. That’s true. There was a desire to write stuff that was kind of catchy as a accessible as possible without losing integrity, there was no compromising on quality on our end, its just that kind of style on our end that we write with lends itself for that kind of song. That’s just the kind of way that record went.
NM- What is the Body Holographic?
DD- I don’t know you’ll have to ask my brother, he came up with the title, I think it’s some type of Walt Whitman thing.
NM- I was trying to figure it out, some mysterious unifying theme?
DD- Why not.
NM- Let’s talk about the new album, what’s going through your head, you seem like you have a lot of alternatives, what’s this new album going to be like?
DD- I wish I could. Right now, I have no idea. Like you were saying, I’ve got so many different things hanging around my head and its very difficult to decide what it’s going to be. I mean, there’s a lot of doo-wop songs that I want to do, and a lot of the new stuff is more Americana than anything else. None of it is the way the last record was, I’m in a decision right now actually, I was up all night thinking about this, and thinking what exactly it is that we’re planning on doing and trying to figure out if its going to be beneficial to the band or what.
NM- I heard Blood of our Fathers and Julie, (two tracks released online)
…. DD- You can’t really listen to anything I do acoustically and determine how it’s going t be in the future. I’m finishing up a record right now where its very dark, acoustic, lots of instrumentation to it and its pretty out there. Probably the most diverse and darkest thing I’ve ever done. I’m putting the finishing touches on it right now and trying to mix it. There’s about ten songs there, and we’re doing some pretty interesting things for it, in how we’re going to present it, and the videos, the artwork. It’s all very exciting for me, because I think its one of the more important things I’ve done in a long time, that’s something I’m trying to work on some closure on right now.
NM- Will that be released with NLF or a solo thing?
DD- It could be NLF, Sleep Station, I have no idea where it belongs. I’m going to finish the record. That’s the only goal I have, to finish the record and make the best record imaginable that I can make and just put it out there. The same goes for anything that we work on, we want to make the best record we can and record the best songs we have. We aren’t trying to make it sound like anything in particular.
Part Two: Dave Debiak Interview (New London Fire/Sleep Station)
Appearing on PatrolMag.com soon: On New Marketing and the Traditional Music Business Model
NM- You marketed this album pretty differently with the free EP being released far in advance, it doesn’t seem like you are afraid to give away music, can you talk about that, and how that’s worked with your label?
DD- Well it was their idea. I agreed with it, we weren’t going to get anyone to buy it so we might as well give it away.
NM- Good response?
DD- Tremendous response, I’ve got a lot of material so I can put out an EP and give it to people for free and then hopefully they’ll listen to things and buy them in the future if things come up and if the opportunity comes up. I mean we gave so many of the Von Cosel’s away and then we would play a show and these people who loved the EP and then they would buy a t-shirt or pay to get into the venue. Eventually if its good and people like it, they’ll spend money on it, in some way shape or form. Record sales are not the way they used to be. I’ve never gotten paid for one record in my life.
NM- Never gotten paid?
DD- Not a dime, and I’ve done like 4-5 albums. I’ve never made a profit from one.
NM- The free EP is how you got me.
DD- I figured how else are you going to get people. You’re competing with so many different people and marketing angles that everyone’s trying to take to sell things, you figure, why not try this way? It doesn’t hurt to listen to something when it’s free.
…. DD-I’m strongly considering never putting anything to retail again. I want to just sell things online and have physical copies made but only available online. Retail is a dying breed and its not going to be around much longer. People don’t buy records like they used to and most places you can’t find a good record store to go to, I mean you’ve got Best Buy. To get your stuff into those stores you have to move units rather steadily and its just a huge pain in the ass to do retail....I’ve taken it on myself to record everything for free so I won’t be getting behind big recoups. Money I make back before I start making a profit. So now if I sell 2,000 records and it cost me nothing to put the record to make a profit. If I sold 50,000 of the things, and if it cost me a couple hundred thousand to put it out, I don’t make anything.
DD- I don’t think it’s imperative for a band to have a record label, I think that if a band can have its stuff distributed anywhere you can go online. They can record it themselves, promote it themselves, there’s not much more a lot of bands need. They could do a lot for themselves without going on a record label. I know that a lot of bands are holding on for that hope that their going to get signed but I say “screw that, they don’t even need to bother trying.
Dave Debiak Interview (New London Fire/Sleep Station)
Appearing on PatrolMag soon:
Part Three- A Day in the Life.
NM- Day job?
DD- I own a store with my wife and we just kind of go there during the day, we own a line of makeup and massage, waxing stuff like that.
NM- How is that balancing those two things.
-Air Siren goes off in the background-
DD- Apparently like its 1945 and the fucking Germans are about to bomb my town. What the heck is that all about. Let me get somewhere where I can’t hear this.
NM- Is it a battle having to go back and forth between the band and the real world?
DD- I’m always working, I just got out of the studio last night. You talk about a day job, I’m still doing music as a day job. I spent the last two days in a recording studio.
NM- How was the album received? Did people know the stuff?
DD- It was ok, we had people there to see us some nights and were pretty excited, we were just going up there and playing our songs.
NM- Putting time in?
DD- We just thought we’d tour the country and see about the results, and I wasn’t thrilled with the way it came out, it’s hard to get a really good tour you’re happy to be on. We were on a couple tours that it didn’t make too much sense to be on, even though we adored the people we were on tour with, the other bands. The tour wasn’t planned very good, we lost a ton of money, and I’m not sure how much more of that we can do.
NM- Y’all had your van destroyed?
DD- Yeah, it got destroyed by a tree and we don’t have insurance so we’re out 12,000 dollars. Getting another van, and getting out on the road is posing a huge problem. We’re sitting around going, “how the hell are we supposed to do this anymore?” You have to have a van and be able to physically get on the road and go. And that’s money we’ll never get back, and that’s gone. We’ll be pretty hard pressed..
NM- What’s the process for you writing a song? Inspiration?
DD- Living, just life, just situations that come up in life that you go through. Sometime you’ll see something on television that touches you, or you’ll be walking down the street, I don’t know depends where you’re at. There’s times in my life that I’ve been put through situations and then I’ve written from the feeling I’ve had at those times.
NM- How long have you been writing?
DD- I remember my mom had a piano and the first thing I did when I saw it, was run over to it and try to write my own song. I was never interested in learning how to play the piano right, or technically, I just wanted to utilize it to write my songs.
NM- So a lot of it is telling stories?
DD- No I just wanted to create something. You know an artist wants to create, they want to paint their own painting. They don’t like to just paint what’s there, some of them want to paint what’s in their head.
NM- So there was never a question of what you wanted to do when you grew up?
DD- Um no. It really took me a long time to figure out what that was. I knew what I was, there’s a part of me that thought I could never do that, I could never go through with that, I wrote songs for myself and just never thought I would have the opportunity to share it. I never thought I would get to play with a good band.
NM- Music doesn’t seem like a side thing in your life, not just something you’re messing around with. What is music to you?
DD- It’s me. My whole life, it makes me a human being. It’s the only thing I’ve ever had in my whole life, it’s like breathing or drinking water. It’s just part of who you are, your chemistry, makeup. If you can picture yourself doing anything else, then you should do it- period.
NM- What is that you love most about, if music is being you, then what do you love most about being you? What do you love about music?
DD- The only time I’ve ever liked what I saw when I looked in the mirror was when I was holding a guitar, that’s pretty much it.
.. NM- Is it more important for you to put out good art rather art everyone appreciates?
DD- Its nice when someone can appreciate it and can see where you’re coming from, from the beginning of our conversation it’s been obvious that you appreciate music and that’s a nice feeling because it’s good to know that you can spend all that time creating, and then that someone gets that connection. There’s people out there who I’ve never met, never see, but could be listening to the record right now, that’s the kind of connection you want to have. Every record represents me personally and represents me as a human being and that’s the most important thing to me, to do something fulfilling and not necessarily have to be accepted by anyone.
NM- My brothers really dig you, just fyi.
DD- Really? Crazy, I hope we don’t weird them out too much with the next record.
:This is a letter I wrote to a member of the faculty of my school at the beginning of the summer and I kind of forgot about it. Honestly I think it describes somethings in it's overblown length rather well. so read if you want.
arcade fire's there too.
enjoy.
Dr. ____,
So I've actually been gone away from computers for the last week, and just made my way back to a monitor, keyboard and DSL access.
i was reading over some of your blog archives and started laughing when i saw your comment about me messing with your paradigm for listening to music.
I'm hoping that will end up being a good thing.
In that light, I think I'll pass on a band that takes a little getting used to, but has provided one of the most rewarding, real listening experiences that I've had in a very long time.
This may freak your ears out a bit, but I have a feeling that even if it may not be your style, you may still have ears for one more season of American Idol.
(the more I write, the more I think you might run the risk of damaged eyeballs and bored braincells from a rambly writer than a stressed ear)
The band is The Arcade Fire. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arcade_Fire
Something that I've been thinking about for awhile and something that I'm trying to prepare a blog entry (and maybe a video) on, is the idea that I think (deep down inside) we're all looking for music that we can believe in.
It's not an original idea at all, because it translates across all cultural and political facets of life.
But i think its become engrained in my mind how much of what i love in music, stems from my ability to believe in the artist putting the music out.
Dylan, Bono, even Sufjan
all these men (and many others that I could name)
i can believe in them as a true musical messenger that can speak to my mind and my generation.
There's an honesty, there's a fervency, there's a passion
that somehow hasn't been overly tainted by the commercialization and plasticization of our modern world. They've got a message, and even if they mess up some, you still believe that there's truth in it, and that people should hear it. Even Bono, with his iPod circulating messiah complex, I can still believe that the man genuinely believes in what he's saying. Maybe that's because I remember watching as a tousleheaded Irish boy danced in the rain of Colorado, waving a white flag for the screaming masses. I've got the images of ZooTV and Pop burned into my head, and no matter what high priced over commercialized event that Bono decides to endorse, somehow I'll still believe in him.
Right.
so back to The Arcade Fire.
This little Canadian band released an album a few years back called "Funeral" that, partially through its quality and partially through a devoted underground fan base, catapulted this obscure group of musicians into a bigger light. Speaking of Bono, U2 asked the band to tour with them and used the track "Wake Up" to come out with.
The band just released a followup album, "Neon Bible" which actually opened as #2 on the Billboard charts (for whatever that means anymore)and is in the middle of playing a sold out tour across the nation.
So.
what makes the band special?
I've only got a few more minutes before I need to hit the bed and prepare to drive back with my family from Tampa Fla to Mississippi,
but
lets see how much I can get out.
First:
The Lyrics.
The band writes some of the most captivating stories full of darkness, light, anger, with strong spiritual overtones.
(Neighborhood #3- Power Out)
"i went out into the night, i went out to find some light. kids are dyin' out in the snow, look at them go - look at them go! and the power's out in the heart of man, take it from your heart put it in your hand. what's the plan? what's the plan? is it a dream? is it a lie? i think i'll let you decide. just light a candle for the kids, jesus christ don't keep it hid."
I could pull example after example out, and if you really want, I'll send you some more.
Second: The Presence
This is where you really find the beauty of The Arcade Fire. There's at least 10 people that comprise the Arcade Fire, and when they take the stage, when they enter the studio, it's the proverbial "orchestrated chaos."
This brand of indie/orchestral/folk experimental rock is something completely different than I've heard in years. The fact is, once you get over the weird factor, the music's incredibly catchy.
When Lead singer Win Butler, and the rest of the strangely dressed members, take the stage, there isn't one moment that they don't act like they believe every word that they are saying. They take the music that they're playing incredibly seriously, and people buy into these modern musical prophets.
The stories that come out of their concerts are unlike anything that you hear about any other band (except maybe U2 ;)
People are awed, in shock, and describe the experience with adjectives normally reserved for big tent revivals and acid driven mountain top moments.
Somehow in an age of "we've seen everything" the Arcade Fire have left people saying "we've never felt this"
______
So,
this is where I come into the equation. I've been listening and believing in this band for the last two years, well believing for the last year,
and “a few weeks ago I had the opportunity to see the band at DAR Constitution Hall in D.C.
You've probably never been to DAR, so let me give you a quick scoop on it.
The theaters a Greekish, magnificent looking theater whose pretentious outside is only matched by the overbearing expansive interior, with huge sound swallowing ceilings that is patrolled by no-nonsense no deviation from protocol security guards..It's not hard to see how this could be a problem for rock shows, and i've experienced the damping effect a number of times.
The Arcade Fire were coming though,
and i didn't care if they were playing in an old wooden shack in the middle of a train station, I was going to be there. The diverse, expectant, old and young crowd packed into the theater, somehow I managed to jump a few rows and end up in an empty seat at the beginning of the orchestra rows) and then the lights went dark.
A video of a screaming female televangelist was projected onto the spotlight shaped screens, surrounding the pipe organ and assortment of other instruments (did i mention they play an organ?)
The band started filing onto the stage, red light poured across the arena, and I felt a little bit of the same feeling that I experienced when Dylan walked out in August at the little baseball stadium, it's the feeling, that goes something like, "i can't believe it's really them, they're actually here."
I've seen a ton of bands, but I’ve only seen a handful that could give me anything of that sensation. maybe it's how the kid's felt when the Beatles walked out in that new york stadium,whatever it was, i felt it.
The band ran through most of Neon Bible, and much of Funeral, and honestly, I've very rarely heard songs that could be so accurately described as anthems, songs that are more of hymns than pop melodies, songs that are sung with a reverent rather than joyous inflection in your voice, and the kind of notes that makes even Presbyterians even want to worship with their hands held oh so high,but this band did it.
The one thing that kept bugging me through the night, was the fact that the ushers made people stay in their seats. Even so, the people kept encroaching- dancing and moving all across the arena. I kept praying, God, just let me get a little closer (and don't let the ushers find out that I don't belong in this seat) Maybe God didn't hear my prayer, but Win sure did... because right before "Power Out"
Win looked at the crowd and said, "I know the ushers are going to hate me, and I know they don't want me to say this, but you can't dance in your seats, just come on down, come on down."
I started running.
I didn't care if the ushers caught me, I didn't care if I tripped and fell on the carpeted floor, I didnt care what happened. I just knew that I had to get a little bit closer. The floor emptied. people rushed passed the outstretched arms of the ushers and piled close to the stage, dancing, singing, grey hair and blonde alike. everyone was filling that small space.
The band played about 3 more songs, took an encore, played Intervention and then began walking off the stage. The crowd was screaming, Win looked out, stopped a few of his bandmates, talked to them for a few minutes, went backstage and brought the rest out, plugged back in, and started the "dun dun dun" guitar riff to "Wake Up."
The thing about Wake Up is that it has this absolutely amazing opening that's meant for big arena choirs, a middle that's meant for the depressed of spirit, and an ending that's meant for the hopeful love starved child.
Listening to 6,000+ people sing and dance their way through this song, is something I'll never forget, ever. When I walked out of that arena, I believed in The Arcade Fire.”
this is an older review, that I found in my inbox that i forgot to stick up. so maybe enjoy?
It wasn’t just the beards which united the two performers taking the stage at Messiah College in Grantham, PA on Saturday night, as Sam Beam (Iron & Wine) and David Bazan (Pedro the Lion) both dealt heavily in a folk-style dark examination of love, family, and God. Looking like two escapees from Abraham’s school of facial fashion, Beam and Bazan put on a powerful show for the packed basketball gym audience of Messiah College students, area couples, and fans from across America. Emblematic of the evening, Bazan opened the night with a powerful rendition of “Hallelujah,” changing up the lyrics to the second half of the song and turning Leonard Cohen’s classic ballad of human relational tragedy into one reflecting Bazan’s own tumultuous struggle with the nature of the Divine.
As the front man for a cult-popular 90’s Christian folk-rock band, Bazan has never shied away from articulating his theological angst. However, that angst hasn’t resulted in any happy ending as Bazan has renounced his belief in God, unable to reconcile the character of God in relation to the problem of evil. A newcomer to this struggle, it was surprisingly painful to listen to the songs of Bazan throughout the night, as a soul at unrest was put on display for the room to see. Bazan’s stage chatter was quiet, cynical and almost heartbreaking in its sadness. To listen to Bazan sing, “Sweet Jesus I still need you, forgive me this sin, not hookers or heroin, gamblin’ or gin… I need someone to help me help myself, (The Longer I Lay Here)” you felt like you weren’t watching a performance, but a wrestling match with the divine that had no sunrise in sight. Bazan’s active unwillingness to accept the presence of a traditional deity was matched by Beams passive acceptance of some mystical deity working in the lives of men. Most famous for his cover of the Postal Service’s Such Great Heights on the Garden State soundtrack, Beam remains a master at painting warm folk scenes, heavily tinged with darkness. Playing material from albums and EP’s, Beam also played eight songs off his yet to be released album, Shepherds Dog. The new ballads almost fit seamlessly with old material. Whether taking the form of a sympathetic viewing of traditionally reviled characters, (who's seen jezebel? /she was born to be the woman we could blame-Jezebel) or simply painting a simple love story facing death, (Naked as we Came)-Beam manages to create beautiful story tapestries of dark truth. When he stands behind the microphone, begins sliding his fingers across the guitar, and opens up his mouth, a coffee rich atmosphere is created, that quiets all mouths. Though college gym was packed, it seemed only appropriate that Beam asked the standing crowd to sit on the floor. It wasn’t until the powerfully epic climax of “The Trapeze Swinger,” that a few souls found the strength to stand back up. “Please, remember me/ finally/and all my uphill clawing/ my dear/ if I make the pearly gates/ do my best to make a drawing/ of God and Lucifer.” Beam and Bazan have been making musical drawings for quite awhile, and regardless of what the final product may end up showing, the scratchings on the way have proven to be just as important to their fans and themselves.
Here’s the requisite track bashing I’ve been promising for awhile, I’ve been saving this song for a couple weeks because honestly, it’s probably one of the worst pieces of generic, pretentious refuse that I’ve heard in the last four years of my life.
Seriously, it’s that bad.
I think that this is Kid Rock’s attempt to write an intelligent song with meaningful social commentary; if this is social commentary, then Michael Bay is the new Alfred Hitchcock.
These are some of the most meaningless, cliched lyrics that I’ve ever heard coming out of someone’s mouth, and tossed over a generic guitar chord line. Believe me, that’s saying a lot because I’ve listened to a ridiculous amount of music from the strange-haircut-emo-child movement.
A sampling:
Habitual offenders, scumbag lawyers with agendas I’ll tell you sometimes people I don’t know what’s worse Natural disasters or these wolves in sheep clothes pastors Now God damn it I’m scared to send my children to church And how can we seek salvation when our nations race relations Got me feeling guilty of being white But faith in human nature, our creator and our savior, I’m no saint But I believe in what is right
If Kid Rock wants some meaningful commentary that’s easy enough to find and still has some relevance, try “Masters of War.”
Don’t let me even start with the music on the song, because the first time that I heard it, I was driving down Virginia’s highway 7, and I couldn’t quite place my finger on who was singing. Even though I couldn’t figure out who was singing, I could predict pretty accurately what he was going to say and do next. The first time the chorus came on, I was like, “did they forget the choir?”
Then the choir came in, and I remembered that it’s incredibly important to have dramatic conclusions to your melodramatic art. You know what, though? Maybe this is what passes for social commentary now days, just a small bit of intelligence makes everyone nod their head, but not enough discourse so that anyone has to change part of their life.
Kid Rock, if you are the new American Jesus, then democracy has proved its capability to bring anything and everything to the absolute lowest level.
