Category: Pop (Page 38 of 216)

Oasis: Time Flies…1994-2009


RIYL: The Beatles, The Faces, The Beatles

Here’s the straight statistical dope about Time Flies…1994-2009, the new 27-track two-disc set of nearly every song Oasis released as a single: they had eight #1 singles in their native UK, and 23 Top Ten singles overall. In fact, only two of their singles didn’t crack the UK Top Ten. They were even huge in America for a while; their 1996 album (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? went quadruple platinum, and the albums on each side of it, 1994’s Definitely Maybe and 1997’s Be Here Now, sold a million copies as well. Radiohead would ultimately steal their crown, but for a moment, Oasis were England’s biggest band by a mile and one of the biggest bands in the world.

They are also quite possibly the most overrated band to ever walk the earth.

Oasis - Time Flies - COLOR1

Which is not to suggest that the band had nothing to offer; principal songwriter Noel Gallagher came up with some genius moments of modern-day rock riffage when he put some effort into it, namely “Wonderwall,” “Champagne Supernova” and “Don’t Look Back in Anger.” Most of Gallagher’s songs, though, are all pomp and no heart, tailor-made to get the festival crowds waving their arms but are otherwise empty, hollow attempts at Beatlesque grandeur. Rarely have songs tried so hard to sound so effortless.

Effort is only half the problem here, though; what Oasis really could have used is an editor. Was there any reason for “All Around the World” to be over nine and a half minutes long (two key changes!), or for “D’You Know What I Mean” – which is surely the inspiration for “You All Everybody,” the one hit wonder by “Lost” castmate Charlie’s band Drive Shaft – to clock in just under eight minutes? Even the songs that have a decent hook, like “Some Might Say,” don’t know when to walk the fuck away. Thirteen of the 27 songs here have run times over five minutes, and there is frankly no reason for it. A song need not be long in order to be epic; that’s a distinction Oasis never understood.

One thing working in the favor of Time Flies… is that it’s priced to sell, going for the price of a traditional single disc. Smart move, that, since anyone casually interested in the band will now get the songs they want plus a boatload more without spending much more money. If only the band had been as economical with the songs themselves. (Big Brother/Columbia 2010)

Oasis MySpace page
Click to buy Time Flies from Amazon

Luce: The Year We’ll Have


RIYL: Jack Johnson, Jason Mraz, Ben Kweller

Not everyone quite gets the laid-back shuffle of acoustic-geetar-totin’ beach poets like Jack Johnson or zippity-bippity wordplay specialists like Jason Mraz, but that doesn’t stop them from selling tons of records and playing sold-out venues, does it? Tom Luce and his decade-old San Francisco-based band fit in that mold, and certainly could, with a bit of luck, take their mid- and up-tempo numbers to the masses, churning out the feel-good platters for the our beloved generation of peace-lovin’, hemp-wearin’, endless summer-celebratin’ kiddies to shake their tushies to year-round.

It’d be a shame, though, if his band’s exercises in featherweight groovin’ wound up overshadowing its true strengths. As we hear in this odds-and-sods acoustic EP, Luce (the band) can certainly build a solid backdrop for the wry observations and lovelorn sentiments in its songs. Folks outside the Bay Area might remember the band for the minor hit “Good Day,” which gets a cool walk-through here (though I miss the horns that punctuated the original). “Won’t Change a Thing” and the title track likewise get mid-tempo workouts, but it’s difficult to put a finger on what makes the performances sound so perfunctory.

That difficulty ends when one cues up the ballads on the EP, and a fuller, better-rounded Luce merges. Take the piano ballad-style reworking of the band’s 2002 track “Corner of the World.” On the original, Luce’s moving observations of life passing by get lost in a heavy-handed rock arrangement; left with just Tom Luce’s voice and bare but sympathetic accompaniment, the power of the lyrics comes to the fore. Same goes for “Willing to Try,” in which the band slowly builds behind a foundation of bare acoustic guitar, all serving the exquisite melody and words. The harmonies that lift “After Tomorrow” highlight the hopefulness of the lyric, and the slide guitar that fades in the outro is a perfect farewell.

The ballads on The Year We’ll Have make it worth owning (check out the Amazon link below or take the band up on its “pay what you want” offer, on its Web site). If Luce can play off the strengths they display there, they could be a household name one of these days. (Luce 2010)

Luce’s Myspace Page
Click here to buy The Year We’ll Have from Amazon.

Sarah McLachlan: Laws of Illusion


RIYL: Annie Lennox, Enya, Jewel

Sarah McLachlan’s brand of pillowy, doe-eyed balladry has always been easily parodied, but beneath all the glossy instrumentation and tastefully aching vocals, her music has always had a dark depth that belied its adult contemporary trappings – and offered proof that it’s possible to create placidly pretty music with real emotional undertow.

Sarah McLachlan

Alas, this is something McLachlan seems to have forgotten during the seven years since she released her last album of original material. Right from the album cover, which finds her lounging beautifully on the moon, Laws of Illusion has the disconnected, gauzy air of a fantasy; the track listing floats woozily from one vaguely moody, mid-tempo number to the next. It’s like a Thomas Kinkade painting set to music – which is pretty ironic, considering Illusion is more or less a song cycle about the collapse of McLachlan’s marriage. You’d think this would raise the stakes for her usual themes – love, obsession, heartbreak – but instead, these songs feel curiously flat, with melodies that have the plastic echo of McLachlan’s past work and some of the most enervating arrangements of her career. Even the song titles are tired: “U Want Me 2”? Where’s a Prince lawsuit when you need one? Any random Peter Cetera album has more heft.

None of which probably matters to most Sarah McLachlan fans. Her earlier work’s resonance earned her critical respect, but it’s got little to do with the millions of records she’s sold; to a lot of people, a Sarah McLachlan album’s true value lies in its smooth surface appeal, and Laws of Illusion is nothing if not smooth. If none of it is particularly memorable, well, McLachlan’s voice is as lovely as ever, and these songs will still sound great with your next candlelit bubble bath. Proceed accordingly. (Arista 2010)

Sarah McLachlan MySpace page

Seen Your Video: The Coral, “1000 Years”

I will be the first to admit that I don’t hear every album released each year because, frankly, it’s impossible. Over 30,000 albums are put out each year. Can’t hear ’em all, and goodness knows I try.

Having said that, I at least hear about albums coming out, even if I don’t hear them. But when I saw a recent press release talking about the upcoming Butterfly House being the Coral’s sixth album, I uttered the words that piss me off when I hear them from other people: “They’re still together?” The funny thing is, I had just been thinking of the band – loved their song “Dreaming of You,” from their 2002 debut – and wondered what had happened to them. After their 2003 sophomore effort Magic and Medicine, I literally had not heard a word of their existence until the other day. You’d think I would have accidentally heard something, but no.

And if the song “1000 Years” is any indication, I’m thinking I missed a few damn good records. James Skelly’s vocals are less Eric Burdon bluesy growl than ’90s Madchester shoegazer whisper, but the song is an absolute psych-pop gem, and the video is appropriately loaded with liquid camera shots and crude good/evil symbolism (man with wolf’s head, horses, water, an ankh). Butterfly House is currently scheduled to be import-only. Here’s hoping they change their minds.

Me, Myself, and iPod 6/16/10: Rock chalk Jayhawk

esd ipod

Mark Olson – Little Bird of Freedom
As a longtime fan of the Jayhawks’ 1995 gem Tomorrow the Green Grass, I’ll do anything for Mark Olson, Gary Louris and Marc Perlman. The three are occasionally moonlighting as the Jayhawks – this after Louris personally told me when he was promoting his last solo album that the Jayhawks were done; thank goodness he was wrong – but this is from Olson’s upcoming solo album Many Colored Kite, due in late July.

The Silver Seas – Another Bad Night’s Sleep
Here’s the amazing thing about Chateau Revenge, the forthcoming sophomore effort from the Silver Seas: we’ve posted two great songs from the album for download (you can find the other one here), and we still haven’t touched my favorites from the album. Singer Daniel Tashian sounds a bit more like Rufus Wainwright on this one than his usual Jackson Browne baritone. It’s all good to me.

Hey Champ – Neverest
There are a lot of bands making valuable contributions to the new synth pop wave – the tricky part is finding them. For every band like Hey Champ, there are 20 shit bands who play vintage synthesizers and sneer a lot. That’s not synth pop; that’s just posing. These guys get it; their songs are based on songs, not attitude. And if you really want to get freaked out, check out the video for this song. Dolphin boobies!

Everything Everything – Schoolin’
Not to be confused with shit ’90s band Everything, who had that lame-ass song about seeing better days. This is a UK band that sounds like they’ve been spinning a lot of Neptunes productions. Funny that I keep comparing bands to other artists who haven’t sold any records, but the first person I thought of when I heard this was Kenna.

Crocodiles – Sleep Forever
I’m just going to assume that the band name came from the Echo & the Bunnymen song of the same name, because these guys have clearly heard a few Echo records. Big, jangly, quasi-psychedelic ’60s guitar rock song. Here’s hoping the full-length is just as good.

Olafur Arnalds – Tunglio (Moon)
Because even download columns need a come-down song. This string-kissed instrumental is heartbreakingly beautiful. Don’t be surprised if it winds up serving as the score to a “Grey’s Anatomy” montage in the fall.

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