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The National: High Violet


RIYL: Arcade Fire, Interpol, The Walkmen

Somehow I was one of the few music writers not to swoon for The National’s 2007 critical darling The Boxer. I found it a little boring and hard to get into.

So why, a couple of years later, have I responded so positively to High Violet? It’s not like they’re doing anything radically different. Sweeping and anthemic but still low-key indie rock is this band’s calling card, and has been pretty much since its self-titled debut album came out in 2001.

One element of my turnaround can be credited to seeing the band live last summer during the Virgin FreeFest, or whatever they’re calling it now, at Merriweather Post Pavilion in the Maryland suburbs.

They were sandwiched between Public Enemy and Girl Talk on the second stage, and to be honest I stuck around only because I didn’t feel like fighting the pre-Weezer crowd at the bigger stage up the hill.

Frontman Matt Berninger won a laugh by quipping, “We’re The National, and we’re actually a lot like Public Enemy,” or something similar. They then proceeded to make a believer out of everyone in hearing distance, putting on one of those gripping and uplifting shows that sneaks up on you and makes you reconsider everything you’ve heard from this band before.

Like the show, High Violet is a slow but hard charger. The album takes a while to get going, and being front-loaded with titles such as “Terrible Love,” “Sorrow,” “Little Faith” and “Afraid of Everyone” gives the listener a pretty good sense of the vibe.

And a vibe is pretty much the only guidepost you get lyric-wise. I may be missing something, but lines like “you and your sister live in a lemon world” and “I was carried to Ohio on a swarm of bees” don’t jump out as super-meaningful.

But by the time “Bloodbuzz Ohio” rolled around six tracks in, I began to realize I was entranced, and the excellent “Conversation 16” and “England” kept me listening right until the end. And I’ve kept listening since, again and again. (4AD 2010)

The National MySpace page

Quintessential Songs of the ’00s: #5 “Use Somebody”

Truth be told, there are about 45 other Kings of Leon songs that I’d like to plug in here — I’ve been a huge fan since Youth and Young Manhood in 2003 — but there’s no doubt that “Use Somebody” is KoL’s signature tune. It hit #4 on the Billboard Hot 100, won three Grammys and is by far the band’s biggest hit.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great track. It has the kind of soaring, arena-filling chorus that the Followills weren’t even trying to write until about four years ago.

It always puzzled me why the band didn’t hit it big earlier in their career, especially with the way the UK adores them. But hey, better late than never.

From the song’s wiki page:

On U.S. radio, the song was a multi-format smash, becoming just the fourth song in history to top the Mainstream Top 40, Adult Top 40, Alternative Songs, and Triple A charts.[9] The three prior being “Slide” by the Goo Goo Dolls, “Every Morning” by Sugar Ray, and “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” by Green Day.

From SongFacts:

Caleb told Uncut magazine October 2008 the story of the song: “The meat of song was written on tour. When I came up with ‘I could use somebody,’ I didn’t know if I was talking about a person or home or God. I felt immediately that it was a big song, and it scared me away. Then, when we were writing the record, Matthew kept sayin’, ‘What’s that song, man?’, and I acted like I didn’t know what he was talking about. Then, finally, I went, ‘All right, we’ll do it,’ and as soon as we started playin’ it, the producers looked up and said, ‘Whoa, that’s a good song.’ I was like, ‘OK.'”

More Quintessential Songs of the ’00s.

Quintessential Songs of the ’00s: #4 “Are You Gonna Be My Girl?”

With arguably the most memorable opening bass line of the decade, Jet burst onto the scene in 2003 (with a little boost from Apple, who used it in its first iPod commercial) by asking, “Are You Gonna Be My Girl?”

Of course, they were accused of ripping off another song (Iggy Pop’s “Lust for Life”) though lead singer Chris Chester recounts a meeting he had with Iggy Pop:

“It’s funny because I asked him point blank about that. He said I was crazy. He said that when he and David Bowie were writing “Lust for Life”, they were ripping off Motown’s beat. It’s funny that he said that to me because we also thought we were ripping off Motown more than “Lust for Life”. To be honest with you that kind of annoyed me a lot, because I always thought it was really lazy. People just go well Lust for Life is more well-known so that’s what they go for, but if you listen to a song like “You Can’t Hurry Love” (The Supremes) I think you’ll find its closer to “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” than “Lust for Life” ever was. And that’s what Iggy said as well.”

Criticism aside, no one can argue that this track isn’t wickedly catchy.

More Quintessential Songs of the ’00s.

The Trashcan Sinatras: In the Music


RIYL: Aztec Camera, Prefab Sprout, Magnetic Fields

By all rights, the Trashcan Sinatras should have broken up years ago. Only one of their five albums was met with good timing, and that was their 1990 debut Cake. From there, they have suffered a relentless tide of apathy, both from the public (their album I’ve Seen Everything landed while grunge was in full swing) and even label bosses (Go! Discs didn’t bother releasing 1996’s A Happy Pocket in the States). But Kilmarnock’s finest have soldiered on, staring down bankruptcy and the inevitable pressures of family life to do what they love. And for that, they have attracted one of the most loyal fan bases any band has ever known. As our Popdose colleague John Hughes once wryly observed, there is no such thing as a casual fan of the Trashcan Sinatras.

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Even their most recent album, In the Music, has its share of melodrama. The album was originally supposed to come out last fall, but the distribution deal fell through just as they were embarking on their first US tour in five years. But the album is finally out, and in fact its release snuck up on us, which doesn’t bode well for the promotional efforts being done on its behalf. (Seriously, we get close to 50 music press releases a day, but no one’s working the Trashcan Sinatras?) Looks like, as guitarist Paul Livingston pointed out in an interview last summer, that they’ll be selling their records to the same people once again.

Pity, because they’ve just made another gem. In the Music is similar in tone to the band’s 2004 album Weightlifting, in that both are quite mannered in comparison to their earlier work (which in itself was not exactly raucous to begin with). Fans of the “How Can I Apply…” mode of the band’s work will find much to love here, particularly “Easy on the Eye” and “Oranges & Apples,” the band’s tribute to Syd Barrett and their first song to top the seven-minute mark. They even got Carly Simon to sing on the ballad “Should I Pray.” The most rocking moment here is “Prisons,” which is chock full of the vintage Trashcans jangly guitar riffs, and “Morning Star” sports the most widescreen chorus the band’s written in years.

If the album is missing anything – besides promotional support, that is – it’s a few shifts in tempo. Yes, it’s all gorgeous, but anyone longing for a “Bloodrush” or “Welcome Back,” or even another “Hayfever,” will be left wanting. In other words, as much as the band wants people outside of their existing fan base to buy their albums, In the Music is probably not going to do the trick. It’s perfectly lovely, but it’s also preaching to the converted. Still, better that than not preaching at all. (Lo-Five Records 2010)

Trashcan Sinatras MySpace page
Click to buy In the Music from Amazon

Marina and the Diamonds: The Family Jewels


RIYL: Kate Bush, Dresden Dolls, Regina Spektor

Blending Kate Bush dolphin cries with stomping drum machines and buzzing, ‘80s-kissed synths, Marina and the Diamonds join La Roux on the list of British exports hoping to turn UK buzz and new wave nostalgia into American gold. Marina sounds fashionably ambivalent about crossing the pond, and fame in general – check out “Hollywood” for the latest in Top 40-ready tabloid-razzing pop – but beneath all her quirky affectations, she’s careful to pile up tall stacks of indelible, hip-shaking hooks.

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The result is a record that’s certainly enjoyable in its own melodramatic way, but one that’s also hard to love. It has the uniquely British chill of arty singer/songwriters like Kate Bush, but The Family Jewels lacks the depth to live up to those comparisons on more than a superficial level – it’s like an art rock record that wants to trick you into dancing. Or a dance record that wants to pretend it’s an art rock album. Either way, a little of this stuff goes a long way; after the umpteenth hiccupping cry and dog-whistle harmony, it’s hard not to wish you could reach through the speakers and make her stop trying so hard.

The shame of it all is that The Family Jewels includes the ingredients of what might have been a really addictive album – tracks like the tongue-in-cheek “Hollywood” and the moving-in-spite-of-itself “I Am Not a Robot” prove Marina understands the mechanics of pop melody. Everything else is just a gimmick – and while gimmicks sometimes help sell records, they’ve also been known to backfire. For once, less polished Jewels might have made a better first impression. (Atlantic/Chop Shop 2010)

Marina and the Diamonds MySpace page

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