Category: Artists (Page 39 of 262)

Duran Duran: The Special Editions, Part II

And here is where we most likely reach the end of the line for the re-issuing of Duran Duran’s catalog. This is not to say that there are no other albums during their time with Capitol that are worth having – 1997’s Medazzaland remains the band’s most underrated album to date, torpedoed by a terrible first single – but two of the three albums after Big Thing include 1990’s sonic meltdown Liberty and the oft-ridiculed 1995 covers album Thank You. They scored a massively successful comeback with their 1993 “Wedding Album,” but for all intents and purposes, Notorious and Big Thing were the last two albums the band made while still enjoying the penthouse view.

Duran Duran: Notorious

RIYL: Grand notorious slams. Bam.

Notorious suffered some pretty harsh criticism when it was released, and that’s understandable. Let’s face it, this is a dark-sounding album. (Heck, even the album cover is dark.) Those looking for more bouncy percussion and nonsense lyrics must have been stunned to hear so many minor-key grooves (mid-tempo ones at that) and Simon Le Bon singing about lovelessness (“A Matter of Feeling”) and the selling of sex (“Skin Trade”). After all, the last two times the band had hooked up with producer Nile Rodgers, the end results hit #1 (his remix of “The Reflex”) and #2 (“The Wild Boys”), so it’s fair to say that the band had some unfair expectations placed upon them from the get-go. All was well when it came to the title track though, thanks to Rodgers’ trademark scratch guitar and the album’s second-best chorus. (The honor for best chorus goes to “Skin Trade.”) What to make, then, of the chugging “American Science,” or dark rocker “Hold Me”? They’re interesting songs, but so far removed from the way the band had written in the past that they were easy to put down. In hindsight, though, Notorious has held up pretty damn well.

The bonus materials for Notorious are both awesome and maddening. Disc I contains a remaster of the album, fleshed out with single edits for the album’s three singles and the lone B-side “We Need You.” Disc II contains the 12″ mixes for the three singles as well as “American Science” and “Vertigo (Do the Demolition),” along with the live tracks from the Duran Goes Dutch EP. The big score here is “Notoriousaurus Rex,” an eight-minute megamix of the Notorious remixes that only appeared on the rare Master Mixes set. Even better, this version includes the spectacular edit of Notorious closing track “Proposition” that was edited out of the Master Mixes vinyl but appeared on a Capitol promo cassette. If a full-length remix of that song exists somewhere, please, release it.

This isn’t the only mix that was left off here, and that is the maddening part. The dub mixes were forsaken, as was the Latin Rascals mix of “Notorious.” For hardcore fans of the band, these mixes are the most desirable of anything from the period. Thankfully, they’re all available on one super-cheap Remix EP, which means many of the people that EMI is expecting to fork out 30 bones for this set might decide to pay three and change instead.

Duran Duran: Big Thing

RIYL: Noise. ‘Cause you like waking up the house.

Big Thing doesn’t have the dark vibe hanging over it that Notorious does, but it’s definitely a mellower affair than the band had made before, despite the tone of its first two singles. Once you get past the “Warm Leatherette”-riffing “I Don’t Want Your Love” and robotic “All She Wants Is,” Big Thing is filled with ballads, mannered attempts at funk, and interludes (sigh). There are some hidden gems here, notably the Spanish guitar-kissed “Land” and the simple “Too Late Marlene.” Unfortunately there is a lot of filler as well, namely all of Side II except for “Land” and “Palomino,” and even “Palomino” is dangerously close to being filler. It’s mostly pleasant filler, sure, but no one is going to call “The Edge of America” or “Lake Shore Driving” their favorite song by the band. One also wonders how they were never sued for third single “Do You Believe in Shame?,” as it is a blatant rip-off of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Suzie Q.” Probably because it wasn’t a hit. If it had been, some lawyer would surely have come knocking.

One other interesting bit with Big Thing (and it receives a new – but brief – liner note from John Taylor to address it) is the decision to put the original version of “Drug (It’s Just a State of Mind)” back on the album instead of the remix, which appeared on the original pressing of the album but is now relegated to the bonus disc. John is absolutely right that this version is much more in line stylistically with the rest of the album…but the other version is more fun to listen to. Just sayin’.

Disc II contains two bombshells that should get fans to pony up: a full-length version of the much-loved B-side “I Believe/All I Need to Know” and a 12″ mix for “Big Thing” that is apparently so rare that no one could track down the remix credits. The inclusion of Shep Pettibone’s Eurohouse mix of “All She Wants Is” is a plus though, and like they did with Notorious, there is a download EP of all of the dub mixes from this era. The DVD will be this set’s big carrot, though, as it contains a live show from one of the band’s shortest tours (dig Simon’s Michael Hutchence-esque mane and the striptease the backing singers do during “Skin Trade”), and is loaded with songs that the band has not played live since.

The label got the mastering right with both albums, in that there are no obvious gaffes like the whole “Girls on Film” thing with the reissue of the band’s first album, but these sets deserve some kind of updated liner notes, an intro written by someone either intimately involved with the band or someone well versed in their catalogue. Instead, they include pictures and a folded poster of the band from the photo sessions shot at the time. That’s a big-time missed opportunity, since it’s unlikely these two albums will receive the re-reissue treatment that their first three albums will get down the road. Still, with the holidays fast approaching, the special editions of Notorious and Big Thing are the pitch-perfect stocking stuffer for that Durannie in your life – and you all have one, whether you know it or not – who would love to own these sets but needs to get baby a new pair of shoes. (EMI 2010)

Duran Duran MySpace
Click to buy Notorious: Special Edition from Amazon
Click to buy The Remix EP from Amazon
Click to buy Big Thing: Special Edition from Amazon
Click to buy The Dub Mix EP from Amazon

Robbie Williams: In & Out of Consciousness: The Greatest Hits 1990-2010


RIYL: George Michael, Madonna, Take That

Your philosophical question of the day: if a label releases a two-disc, 39-song collection of songs (three discs and 56 songs if you get the deluxe edition) from an artist who never cracked the Top 40 and only appeared in the Hot 100 twice, is it an act of hubris, or charity?

The answer is, in fact, an act of contractual obligation. In & Out of Consciousness: The Greatest Hits fulfills the gargantuan £80 million contract Robbie Williams signed with EMI in 2002, chronicling every song released as a single in his native England. Here’s an staggering statistic: only four of these songs failed to crack the UK Top 10, and only one of them missed the Top 40. That’s damned impressive no matter how you slice it, but every artist has a few hits that were successful in spite of themselves, only to show their cracks with the benefit of hindsight. How have Williams’ songs held up?

Surprisingly well, it turns out, though in a curious move, the album is sequenced in reverse chronological order. That’s an original move, to be sure, but not necessarily the best one for these songs; nearly every single from Williams’ first three albums was a classic, from the stadium-rattling “Let Me Entertain You” to the monster sing-along ballad “Angels” to the slinky “Kids,” a duet with fellow UK chart dominatrix Kylie Minogue. Leading with those songs would have been the smarter play, because while the front half of Disc I includes gems like “Bodies” and the hilarious white-boy funker “Rudebox,” the back half contains “Sin Sin Sin,” “Advertising Space” and Williams’ cover of “Mr. Bojangles” (!), which nearly derails the proceedings before they’ve had a chance to get off the ground. Overall, though, In & Out of Consciousness packs considerable bang for the buck, and will serve as an excellent introduction for Anglo-minded Yanks wondering what the fuss is all about. (Astralwerks 2010)

Robbie Williams MySpace
Click to buy In & Out of Consciousness from Amazon

Ben Folds & Nick Hornby: Lonely Avenue


RIYL: swearing, playing the piano, swearing while playing the piano

Listening to Lonely Avenue, the geek pop wet-dream collaboration between Ben Folds and “High Fidelity” author Nick Hornby, one cannot help but think that there are moments where Folds is trying to pull a fast one on the public. This is not to say that Hornby’s credit is an ornamental one, but it seems strange that this smart, clever author, whose lightest books have more emotional depth than Folds’ songs have explored in over a decade, would actually write this, ever:

“I’m a fuckin’ redneck, I like to hang out with the boys
Play some hockey, do some fishing and kill some moose
I like to shoot the shit and do some chillin’, I guess
You fuck with me, and I’ll kick your ass”

Bull, shit. That’s a Folds chorus if ever there was one, and besides, it’s hard to believe that the English Hornby – or anyone else, for that matter – would care one iota about Levi Johnston to write a song about him. And if Folds did write the lyrics, that’s fine – actually, it’s not fine; the man is 44 with 11-year-old twins, and the whole potty mouth thing is beyond embarrassing at this point – but don’t include it here. Release it on your web site as a free download. Its inclusion here, and towards the front of the album, no less, nearly derails Lonely Avenue before it’s had a chance to spread its wings.

Indeed, the opening track only sets the stage for this to be like any other Folds album of late: filled with cranky, passive-aggressive hostility and naughty language. “A Working Day” comes off as a pre-emptive strike to people like, well, us, with a chorus of, “Some guy on the Net thinks I suck, and he should know / He’s got his own blog.” Folds may well be speaking from someone else’s point of view, but he has to know the dangers of singing a line like that and how thin-skinned it makes him look. (Plus, it has more foul language.) “Picture Window,” on the other hand, feels like a true Folds/Hornby collaboration, the sad tale of a woman giving birth on New Year’s Eve (at least that’s what we think it’s about). A beautiful string section shrouds Folds’ piano as he sings, “You know what hope is? Hope is a bastard / Hope is a liar, a cheat and a tease.” The album could use more songs like that and fewer songs like “Password,” which commits the unpardonable pop music sin of spelling out words (lots of them, too). Worse, the subject matter is quite disturbing, seemingly from the point of view of a lovestruck hacker. The song’s bitter ending only adds to the unpleasantness.

“From Above,” on the other hand, is one of the best songs of Folds’ solo career, describing two people who were meant for each other but never connect. The song’s last lines capture Folds’ lyrical essence better than Folds has captured it himself in over a decade: “Maybe that’s how books get written. maybe that’s why songs get sung / Maybe we owe the unlucky ones.” The album’s finale is equally moving. “Belinda” tells the tale of a singer forced to sing his lone hit, though it tortures him to do so because it’s about a girl he still loves but ultimately wronged. Is the song art imitating life? Folds, after all, divorced his second wife Kate in 1996, but he still plays “Kate” in concert.

Lonely Avenue doesn’t completely cure all of the ills of Folds’ recent work, but it’s definitely a step in the right direction, and the two are poised to be a modern-day John and Taupin. Keep the guy on speed dial, Ben. Please. (Nonesuch 2010)

Ben Folds MySpace
Click to buy Lonely Avenue from Amazon

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.

Mark_Ronson_03

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

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