Category: Pop (Page 38 of 216)

Me, Myself, and iPod 6/23/10: A literal animal collective

esd ipod

!!! – AM/FM
I am admittedly late to the !!! party, as I spent a good year trying to figure out how to even say the band’s name (Jason Thompson finally set me straight by going “Ch-ch-ch”), but after hearing this Frankie Goes to Hollywood-sampling number – and if it’s not Frankie, it’s gotta be something produced by Trevor Horn – you can bet I’ll be keeping an eye on them going forward.

Joemca – Big Dreams
It’s like a glitchy Bruce Springsteen song. That’s a good thing, by the way.

Brock Enright – Maybe
Blissed out Jesus and Mary Chain? Sounds good to me.

Marco Benevento – Greenpoint
There are few things that make me roll my eyes faster than seeing “sound sculptor” in quotes in a press release. Having said that, this is a neat little instrumental.

Unicycle Loves You – Mirror, Mirror
I wrote a piece a while back about how band names have gone to shit. I cited Unicycle Loves You as an example of this. Their fans let me have it, though in a playful way, unlike the unfiltered hostility that one normally finds on the web. A few weeks later, the band sent me a friend request on MySpace. Had to give them points for that. Now they have a new album, and wouldn’t you know it, I like the first single. Still hate the band name, though.

The Rattles – Wavy Lane
These guys are animals. Literally. The album cover shows a cat, a hippo, a lizard and a goat. Not sure if this is just another Wiggles act or a really meta joke, but the song will have Nuggets fans dancing in their seats.

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.

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