Author: David Medsker (Page 11 of 96)

Spot the Similarity: Linkin Park’s “Robot Boy” vs. Semisonic’s “She’s Got My Number”

Welcome to the debut of Spot the Similarity, where we take two songs and, well, do we really need to explain the purpose of the column?

Pop songwriting is hard. There are only a handful of chords, and underneath that, there are only a handful of chord progressions that will register as pleasing to the ears, so it comes as no surprise that sometimes a band looks as if they were caught peeking at someone else’s paper during the final exam, even if they weren’t. It could be a riff, or a vocal melody, or a certain rhythm.

Or, in this case, it could be several things.

Now, let’s just state for the record that we do not believe for a second that Linkin Park were trying to steal from anyone. They take their music much too seriously to do such a thing. But, for the sake of argument, take a listen to “Robot Boy,” from their impressive new album A Thousand Suns.

Sweet little tune, right? Now, if you please, check out “She’s Got My Number,” from Semisonic’s 2001 album All About Chemistry.

Wowzers. Peas in a pod, these two songs. Lots of piano, eerily similar drum tracks, big swells towards the end. The chord progressions are different, no question, but not terribly different. Was Linkin Park aware of the existence of “She’s Got My Number”? Doubtful. The only link between the two bands is Rick Rubin, who produced Semisonic singer and principal songwriter Dan Wilson’s 2007 solo album Free Life as well as Linkin Park’s last two albums. But since Rubin didn’t get involved with Wilson until well after Chemistry was released, it’s safe to say that he’s never heard “She’s Got My Number,” which means Linkin Park probably hadn’t either, since they were still doing the angsty nu-metal thing at the time.

We have not reached out to anyone in Linkin Park for comment – because really, that would look like we’re accusing them of plagiarism, and we’re not – but we did send “Robot Boy” to Dan Wilson, and he told us this: “I usually don’t hear it when people tell me something sounds like a track of mine, but I totally hear it with this. Thanks for the note, it reminds me how much I like ‘She’s Got My Number.’ And now I like ‘Robot Boy.'” Awww, how cute is that? We love a happy ending.

Click to buy Linkin Park’s A Thousand Suns from Amazon
Click to buy Semisonic’s All About Chemistry from Amazon

Mark Ronson: Record Collection


RIYL: Taking ’60s pop and hip hop and throwing them into a blender

As the DKNY poster boy and the It producer for nearly everything out of the UK since 2006 (Lily Allen, Amy Winehouse, Adele, Kaiser Chiefs, and Duran Duran’s upcoming album), Mark Ronson has reached Timbaland levels of productivity of late without suffering from Timbaland levels of overexposure. Granted, much of that is due to his work’s general lack of commercial crossover in the States – of all the pop artists he’s worked with, only his work with Winehouse has cracked the US Top 40 – but chart success or not, it stands to reason that someone with seven producer credits since the beginning of 2009 alone would need a break. Instead, Ronson has decided to release another solo album.

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Record Collection, Ronson’s third solo album and first since 2007’s all-covers project Version, sounds exactly like his other work; tasteful drum programs (the most organic drum machines you’ll ever hear), ’60s-style pop songwriting, a dash of early ’80s synth pop, some two-step, and lots and lots of guest performers, prodiminantly from the world of hip hop. Most of the time, Ronson matches song to singer (and/or rapper) quite well, particularly the hoppin’ leadoff track (and first single) “Bang Bang Bang” and “Somebody to Love Me,” which sports a haunting vocal from Boy George. Ronson splits vocal duties with Simon Le Bon on the dark wave title track, an amusing stab at the here-today-gone-today nature of the music business and the best song Le Bon’s sung in half a decade (“I made a mint in 1987, now I’m living in my parking space”).

There are times, though, when Record Collection could have benefited from a little less busyness. Did the Nuggets-riffing “The Bike Song” really need a rap break from Spank Rock? It’s great that Ronson loves ’60s pop and hip hop, but the two really have no business hooking up, and “The Bike Song” and “Lost It (In the End”) would have been better off if they hadn’t employed the kitchen sink approach. As it is, Record Collection, is one of the more diverse and hook-laden pop records you’ll hear this year. One wonders, though, if it could have reached instant classic status had Ronson reined things in a bit. (RCA 2010)

Mark Ronson MySpace
Click to buy Record Collection from Amazon

Fran Healy: Wreckorder


RIYL: Travis, Travis, Travis

If you’re the principal songwriter and lead singer in a band, you will invariably be asked about going solo. If you actually decide to do it, prepare to be hit with one of the most unfair complaints in all of music: “It sounds just like your old band. Why bother going solo?”

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The implication, of course, is that solo albums should sound drastically different than the artist’s day job, and for some, that is precisely the purpose. Most songwriters, though, write like they write, and asking them to change their approach is like asking them to breathe differently. No one ever accused Bryan Ferry of making solo albums that sounded too much like Roxy Music, and no one should be surprised, or disappointed, to discover that Wreckorder (pronounced ‘recorder’), the solo debut from Travis front man Fran Healy, sounds just like a Travis album. If anything, it’s cause for celebration, because it sounds like a The Man Who or The Invisible Band-era Travis album.

Lead track “In the Morning” is a slow-building minor key ballad with a galloping drum beat the likes of which Travis drummer Neil Primrose hasn’t seen in years. “Anything” would fit seamlessly next to anything from the Nigel Godrich-produced albums, and “Sing Me to Sleep,” a duet with Neko Case, trumps anything from the New Pornographers’ last album (and Case’s last solo album, for that matter). “Buttercups” is as perfect a first single for the album as one could dream up, blessed with climbing-falling chord progressions and that signature wave of melancholia washing over it all. Sometimes Healy gets a little too close to the old days, like on the banjo-plucking “Holiday” (it even does the four count intro on the drum sticks that appeared in every other song on The Man Who), but between the hypnotic “Shadow Boxing” and the hilarious, “Flight of the Conchords”-esque “Robot,” Wreckorder shows that Healy still has much to offer while not forgetting where he came from. Good to see you again, Fran. (Rykodisc 2010)

Fran Healy MySpace
Click to buy Wreckorder from Amazon

Pete Yorn: Pete Yorn


RIYL: Son Volt, Sugar, Ryan Adams

I imagine the conversation went something like this.

Pete: (drumming his fingers on the stained bar top) So… Frank… or is it Francis? Black? Anyway… what do you think about producing my next album?

BF: (shakes his head and signals the bartender) I dunno.

Pete: (looks wistfully at his empty glass) Oh, come on. I’m the king of collaboration and we both have indie cred to burn. Why not?

BF: (sets his beer down without drinking, thinks for a second) Okay… but one thing first. (bends over to the battered case lying at his feet, unfastens the lid and lifts out a well loved Strat) First… show me you still know what to do with this.

Pete: (frowning) That’s cold, man. I was emoting.

BF: Yeah… well get over it.

So that is more than a little bit facetious, as this latest Yorn album was supposedly recorded before 2009’s Back & Fourth. And to be fair, Pete Yorn’s affair with adult contemporary/personal catharsis wasn’t a total disappointment (and in concert he and his band totally rocked), but as a studio album, it was a less than exciting departure from a signature sound he’d developed over his amazing original trilogy. Teaming up with ex-Pixie Frank Black, Yorn takes his sound in yet another new direction on his fifth, eponymously-titled album.

Not the most coherent record, Pete Yorn borrows from a variety of stripped down guitar sounds, some roots rock, some alt rock and even some ’90s post-grunge. One listen and you’ll swear that Black’s contemporary, Bob Mould, had a hand in the guitar line for “Velcro Shoes,” and Frank’s current work shapes “Badman” heavily. “The Chase” sounds like a cover of a lost track from Social Distortions 1990 self-titled classic.

Lyrically, Yorn goes with his eclectic, left-field tendencies that made his original music so intriguing. It happens that his version of “Paradise Cove” – clearly the original, prior to what appeared on Back & Fourth – is much more Yorn-like and interesting in this rougher, lo-fi take. Still, it is also clear that releasing this collection of songs (and it really is more a collection of songs than an album) was something of an afterthought, and while engaging, it is not to be understood as a definitive new direction for Yorn. He created an inescapable, unique sound in his original three albums. Perhaps this, along with Back & Fourth and the brilliant duets album Break Up with Scarlett Johansson, will be looked at as a second trilogy in Yorn’s career; a trio of personal experiments that showcases a prolific talent trying to find his next level. Enjoy Pete Yorn for what it is, but after this, let’s see where he’s really going. (Vagrant 2010)

Pete Yorn MySpace page

The Hours: It’s Not How You Start, It’s How You Finish


RIYL: Pulp, Coldplay, The Wonder Stuff

To call It’s Not How You Start, It’s How You Finish a debut album is technically true, but a bit misleading. In truth, it’s a Franken-album, culling the best moments from the Hours’ first two, import-only albums, 2006’s Narcissus Road and 2009’s See the Light, plus one new track (two if you buy the deluxe edition). Still, debut* album or not, it’s a doozy, filled with sky-high chorus after sky-high chorus, gorgeous octave-jumping piano lines and one of the most optimistic lyric books you’ll find outside of Christian pop (or Howard Jones). On the opening track “Ali in the Jungle,” better known here as the soundtrack to Nike’s “Human Chain” ad, speaks of how “everybody gets knocked down / How quick are you gonna get up?” In “These Days,” singer Antony Genn (think Miles Hunt of the Wonder Stuff, with better pipes) advises us, “If there’s ever a time we need to come together, the time is now.” In “Icarus,” he opines that “If you don’t shoot, then you don’t score.” They’re not deep statements, but they resonate in conjunction with the music.

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The band admittedly runs at two main speeds. There are the upbeat, chugging skyscrapers like “Big Black Hole,” “Narcissus Road” and “Ali in the Jungle,” and there are the showstopping ballads like “Back When You Were Good” (a very gutsy song title in a snarky world) and the splendid “Come On.” The big exception to this is the closer “See the Light,” a slow-building, two-chord track in the vein of Pulp’s “Common People.” It’s arguably the best song here, though a thousand lashes to the person who decided to edit it down from its original seven-minute glory. This is beautiful stuff across the board, but a quick note to Genn: the people most likely to buy your music probably have kids, so let’s cut back a bit on the ‘F’ bombs, shall we? It’s unbecoming. (Adeline 2010)

The Hours MySpace page

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