Category: Alternative (Page 29 of 155)

The Jayhawks: The Jayhawks


RIYL: Flying Burrito Brothers, Gram Parsons, pickin’, grinnin’

That squealing sound you hear is the Jayhawks’ steadfastly loyal fan base wetting themselves over the long-overdue release of The Jayhawks, a.k.a. The Bunkhouse Album, on CD. Those who discovered the band with later albums like Tomorrow the Green Grass or Rainy Day Music will be surprised by just how countrified the goings are here. This is clearly Mark Olson’s band – guitarist Gary Louris, who would run the band after Olson’s departure, doesn’t get a single lead vocal here – as the songs contain more pedal steel and banjo than the rest of the band’s catalog combined. It is also, fittingly enough, stuffed with drinking songs, from the bouncy “Misery Tavern” to the cluckity guitar picking on “Six Pack on the Dashboard.” Louris does make his presence felt, though; he contributes several trademark harmony vocals along with his trademark tasteful guitar.

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The end result is, quite frankly, the birth of the alt-country scene that would take shape roughly a decade later. Even those who prefer the pop-oriented Louris years to the folk-driven Olsen era will want to explore this Bunkhouse, stat. (Lost Highway 2010)

The Jayhawks MySpace page
Click to buy The Jayhawks from Amazon

Keane: Night Train


RIYL: a-ha, The Script, lily-white guys teaming up with rappers

Eight songs, 30 minutes. Actually seven songs, since the first track is more of an intro. And it comes a mere 20 months after their third album, Perfect Symmetry. Forgive us if this sounds overly suspicious, but it looks from here as if Keane is playing the contractual obligation game, giving their overlords at Universal something that technically qualifies as a full-length album so they can extricate themselves from their contract and move on to greener pastures. Otherwise, why the rush? Take an extra couple months, add two more songs, and put some meat on those bones. That would seem to be the wiser move, considering that their last two albums have done well chart-wise, but sold a fraction as many copies as their 2004 debut, Hopes and Fears. But nope, Keane clearly have places to be. Hmmm.

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Whatever their reasons, the band’s lastest “full-length” effort, Night Train, shows the band itchy once again to explore new ground, bringing in rapper K’Naan on two tracks and Japanese MC Tigarah on another. As ridiculous as that might sound on paper, Kane+rapper actually works pretty well in execution, even if it’s all rather pointless. Yes, the back-and-forth between singer Tom Chaplin and K’Naan on “Stop for a Minute” as a certain opposites-attract charm to it, but the song would have worked just fine on its own. “Ishin Denshin (You’ve Got to Help Yourself)” fares much better, as Tigarah’s butterfly tenor complements the song’s feather-light pop groove.

The band has stated in interviews that making Under the Iron Sea was a miserable experience, yet the finest moments on Night Train recall that album. The fittingly titled “Back in Time” finds the band combining Gary Numan’s synth arsenal with Ultravox’s penchant for melodrama, while the gorgeous mid-tempo number “Your Love” showcases a rare vocal from pianist and principal songwriter Tim Rice-Oxley. It’s understandable that the band does not like being put in a box, but it’s not always a bad thing to play to your strengths; goodness knows more songs like “Back in Time” would eliminate the awkward inclusion of songs like the “Rocky”-riffing “Looking Back,” the other collaboration with K’Naan.

One wonders if the success of the Script, an Irish trio that is basically Keane with rhyme skillz, has gotten into their heads, and they feel the need to answer with some dope rhymes of their own. If so, their fears are unfounded; the Script will never write a song like “Is It Any Wonder?” or “The Lovers Are Losing,” and in any case, the inclusion of guest rappers stands a better chance of alienating their existing fan base than it does of expanding it. Still, give Keane credit for not wanting to stand still; if only their wanderlust had taken them in a more interesting direction than the guest rapper route. (Interscope 2010)

Keane MySpace page
Click to buy Night Train from Amazon

Me, Myself, and iPod 5/5/10: Lolene must be stopped

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Yep, it’s community service week at Me, Myself and iPod, where I launch a full-scale attack on a seemingly innocuous pop singer. What makes this singer so much more offensive than the gaggle of singers just like her? You’ll see.

Oh Mercy – Can’t Fight It
These guys are quickly becoming the house band of Me, Myself and iPod, as this is the second song from their debut album Privileged Woes that we’ve highlighted to date. (You can find the other song, “Lay Everything on Me,” here.) We even interviewed the band’s lead singer Alexander Gow a couple weeks ago. Nice kid, and he’s working with Mitchell Froom on their second record. If the mention of Froom’s name perked up your ears, that’s probably because you like Crowded House, and if you like them, you’ll probably like these guys, too.

The Knocks – Blackout
Fans of Chromeo will dig this retro slice of ’70s funk. If the Trammps were around today, they might sound like this.

The Protomen – Light Up the Night
The synths! The lead singer with a tremolo-laden tenor! The synthetic drums! All this song is missing is a montage of Sylvester Stallone working out in the wilderness as he prepares to dethrone the world champion…something or other.

Justine Bennett – Heavy Feeling
Joni Mitchell covering “Losing My Religion”? Yeah, that’ll work.

Alcoholic Faith Mission – My Eyes to See
Always a tricky thing to put any word referencing booze in your band name – what if one of its members has to go to rehab? – but this nifty little tune sounds like Polyphonic Spree crossed with Sunny Day Sets Fire. Big, catchy, and a little dark.

Hunter Valentine – The Stalker
Girl power! This all-girl trio – from Brooklyn, of course – kicks some serious tail. Plus, they serve as a good antidote to the toxic mess that follows.

Lolene – Rich (Fake It Til You Make It)
And here we…go.

Listen, I know that music is about rebellion, blowing off steam, getting a little crazy, blah blah blah. But look at this chorus:

I talk like I’m rich, I walk like I’m rich
I spend like I’m rich, but I ain’t got no money
I think like I’m rich, I drink like I’m rich
I live like I’m rich / Hey hey, Hollywood
Fake it til I make it, fake it til I make it

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

I know that the kiddos are dazzled by celebrity culture, and how even Asian leprechaun attention whores and New Jersey dropouts can be considered “stars” in some warped definition of the word. But this whole ‘act like you’re rolling in dough’ thing is just irresponsible. So you’re maxing out your credit cards in order to give off the impression that you’re fabulous. I reiterate: you’re putting on a show for people who don’t know you, in the hopes that…what, exactly? Someone will make a star out of you because you’re living the lifestyle? (Not life, mind you, but lifestyle.) What happens when it doesn’t work out? You’re bankrupt, both literally and figuratively.

Here’s the thing, kids: fame ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. It is not the end-all-be-all of life, the ultimate goal. And most of the people who are famous, the movie stars, the athletes, they didn’t make it by faking it – they worked really, really hard to get where they are. They didn’t just try to dazzle the bouncers with charm (and if that doesn’t work, a blowjob) in order to get VIP treatment. Our little friend Lolene here is applying for what I call a Fake Celebrity card, the people who are discussed in gossip mags and arrange photo ops with the paparazzi, but will never be invited to George Clooney’s house, or even attend the same parties he goes to. It’s the Siberia of celebritydom. Who in their right minds would want to live there?

So if I find this so offensive, you ask, why am I offering the song for download? Because, if everyone who wants the song downloads it for free, then she won’t make any money from it, thus forcing her to continue to fake it without ever making it. This song sets a bad example, and there are already too many people who think that your lifestyle is more important than your life. The idea of someone actually becoming famous by writing a song about being desperate for fame, well, this might cause time and space to fold on itself. Time to grow up, kids. Get a job, and join the rest of us in the real world.

The really weird part about all this is that Lolene is British. You’d think she’d have more sense than this. I guess there are fame whores all around the world.

Broken Social Scene: Forgiveness Rock Record


RIYL: Arcade Fire, Secret Machines, and the 80 other bands that can be linked to Broken Social Scene

My promo copy of Forgiveness Rock Record doesn’t have linear notes, so I can’t list who is in this incarnation of Broken Social Scene. I read claims that over 30 musicians make appearance on the record, which sounds about right. What are they all doing? Heck if I know. There’s a horn section, a few different kinds of keyboards, a multitude of string instruments, and a ton of other stuff. If someone told me that Broken Social Scene had a dedicated triangle player at this point I would believe them. The don’t sound “big” per se; I would reserve that descriptor for prog rock or bombastic groups like Muse. They sound “large.” So much so that it might be time for a diet.

This is a very good record, but sometimes it feels like it’s good in spite of itself. It’s great that Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning were able to gather damn near everyone in the Toronto area to record a record, but after a while the songs almost get lost in all the chaos. “Chase Scene” starts off as a quirky upbeat number with a great retro synth sound, but by the time it’s over the multitude of strings, backing vocals and pounding drums that nearly all sense of melody is lost. I bet it sounds amazing live, but its a bit much within the confines of a CD.

Maybe it’s for the best though, because slower, quiet tracks like “Highway Slipper Jam” are dull and lifeless. Other songs are just too damn goofy, but it’s hard to hold that against a group who had a song called “Handjobs for the Holidays” on their previous album. Still, that number sounds downright serious next to “Me and My Hand,” a somber ballad that is seemingly a love song about self-love. It’s not as funny as you might think. And the lyrics to “Texico Bitches,” which repeat that horrible title ad nauseum, are so brain-damagingly stupid that they pretty much ruin the song. Inversely, the entirely instrumental “Meet Me in the Basement” is by far the best song on the album, and is one of the few cases where their glorious over-production works perfectly, peaking in a climax of horns, strings, drums most likely every other instrument the group was able to rent that afternoon

Despite the magnificent highs that the album occasionally reaches, this is Broken Social Scene’s most uneven collection to date. Maybe its time that Canning and Drew limit the number of their friends that they’ll allow in this collective and instead work on collecting some memorable melodies. (Arts & Crafts 2010)

Broken Social Scene MySpace Page

The Law: A Measure of Wealth


RIYL: The Kooks, Dogs Die in Hot Cars, The Futureheads

Those coming to the Law via their international exposure on the soundtrack to “The Men Who Stare at Goats” might be a bit surprised when they listen to the rest of the album. Whether that is a pleasant surprise or not will simply be a matter of taste. A Measure of Wealth is just that, a little slice of energetic indie rock that begs the question whether a band from Dundee Scotland would be insulted to be called Brit-pop. Whatever their feelings, their influences are clearly ’80s and ’90s Brit-pop, more on the Blur side of the tracks than Oasis. They lack the Trad-rock elements of the Gallagher brothers, though the album was recorded at Sawmills Studios, the studio that gave birth to Definitely Maybe. This isn’t what you might expect after the lead track “Don’t Stop, Believe” (which is also found on the aforementioned soundtrack) comes blasting out like a Wolfmother lead. Full on blues-based hard rock, with Robert Plant-like wailing in the background, “Don’t Stop, Believe” is pedal-to-the-metal music, and nothing like what follows.

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As track one grinds down into a single Hammond chord, the album transforms and we are greeted with a heavily Pulp-influenced tune called “The Chase,” which truly sets the tone for everything to follow. The Pulp influence resurfaces in riffs and refrains throughout, but halfway through, on “Television Satellite” they drop any subtlety to wrap themselves fully in the glam-influence and swirling guitars of the biggest heroes of Brit-pop, Suede. More than a few tracks would have been right at home on an album like Coming Up, and this is a good thing. All in all, the Law have created a romp of an album, one that should be shuffled into any discerning college student’s party mix. So, while anyone looking for more stoner rock based on the opening track might be disappointed, A Measure of Wealth is a solid, energetic debut that shouldn’t be overlooked. (Local Boy Records 2010)

The Law MySpace page

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