Tag: Headlines (Page 68 of 76)

Norah Jones: The Fall


RIYL Cassandra Wilson, Grace Potter, Patty Larkin

Advance word to the contrary, Norah Jones’ fourth album shows a marked change in approach but little difference in attitude. Stirring up the ambiance with synths, effects, beats and a general trend towards more modern programming tools, Jones lays out a steady series of laments about traitorous lovers and ruined relationships with a distinct emphasis on disillusionment in general. Titles like “Stuck,” “I Wouldn’t Need You” and “You’ve Ruined Me” offer an early hint of her malfunctioning mindset, but lines like “If I touched myself the way you touched me…then I wouldn’t need you,” speak directly to her disappointment. Conversely, the carnival-like atmosphere of “Chasing Pirates,” the practically jaunty “Tell Yer Mama” and the propulsive duo of “Young Blood” and “It’s Gonna Be” prove a welcome respite from the deathly serious tact that Jones helped trademark on her three earlier albums.

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And while there’s still ample evidence of that wounded, torch song set-up imbued in “Manhattan,” “Even Though,” “I Wouldn’t Need You” and “Waiting,” even her more sobering perspectives seem somewhat more illuminated, given fuller arrangements that detract attention from her solitary keyboard and instead steer the proceedings towards the emphatic strum of her electric guitar. Ending the album on a lighter note that finds her offering an ode to her dog – the winsome “Man of the Hour” – shows that for her all her trepidation and turmoil, Jones has the capability of picking herself up, no matter how serious the fall. Blue Note 2009

Norah Jones MySpace page

Paul McCartney: Good Evening New York City


RIYL: Beatles, Bruce Springsteen, The Rolling Stones

When Paul McCartney opined about the bliss of eventual retirement in “When I’m 64,” no one could have guessed at the time, that in actual fact he’d put that premise to the test and choose to ignore that option completely. Indeed, here he is at 67, showing no signs of slowing down while wailing away and glibly commanding the stage like a rocker half his age. McCartney’s sixth live set in the past 19 years – a remarkable feat in itself – finds the aging mop top dutifully spanning his entire career as always , but oozing out an emotional commitment that’s truly astonishing. Yes, the usual standards – “Let It Be,” “Yesterday,” Hey Jude,” “Live and Let Die” – make the cut for the umpteenth time, usurping slots that could have best been taken from the hundreds of other worthy contenders. (It’s worth noting that the entirety of McCartney and Flowers in the Dirt, unquestionably two of his best albums, have been booted entirely.) Still Paul, ever the crowd-pleaser, clearly doesn’t want to deny his fans the old stand-bys.

Recorded at the opening show of Paul’s three-night stand at Citi Field (a fitting choice, given its approximation to Shea Stadium), the two-CD/one-DVD Good Evening New York City spans nearly three dozen tracks, with the usual inclusion of newer material – the jocular “Dance Tonight,” the full tilt “Only Mama Knows,” the irresistible “Flaming Pie” – along with a handful of songs seldom revisited; an emotional ode to Lennon, “Here Today,” the ever-compelling duo “Paperback Writer” and “Day Tripper,” a jaunty “Mrs. Vanderbilt.” Tributes to former band mates via a ukulele-initiated “Something” and an unlikely medley of “A Day in the Life” (with Paul managing John’s part as well as his own) and “Give Peace a Chance” add a nice touch, but ultimately it only heightens the sense of nostalgia that can’t help but shadow every McCartney appearance. Ghosts of Shea haunt practically every facet of the proceedings, from the archival clips of that concert to animated images appropriated from the recent “Beatles: Rock Band” release to an effusive reprise of “I’m Down,” Shea’s rarely performed show-stopper. As much as Macca strives to remain freshly re-groomed, clearly he can never outrun the memories, causing even his best new efforts to eventually dim in comparison to his former band’s luster. After all, when it comes the Beatles, memories don’t easily cede the spotlight.

At times in fact, it seems like heresy hearing Paul’s backing band appropriating john, George and Ringo’s roles on the old Beatles chestnuts, or for that matter, finding Billy Joel offering up a cameo on “I Saw Her Standing There.” But then again, Paul’s four-piece backing band is as adept as it is streamlined, and given that the current set stretches nearly three hours as opposed to the 30 minutes granted to Shea’s screaming masses, there’s something to be said for updating the MO. Ultimately, it’s a good – make that, great – evening indeed. (Hear Music)

Paul McCartney website

Robbie Williams: Reality Killed the Video Star


RIYL: Seal, Pet Shop Boys, the phrase ‘Produced by Trevor Horn’

How did it take this long for Robbie Williams, one of the UK’s biggest pop stars, and Trevor Horn, one of the UK’s most successful producers, to make an album together? Perhaps Horn wasn’t interested while Williams was still getting his freak on – “Rudebox” may be a stone cold jam, but it’s not exactly in Horn’s wheelhouse – and Williams is just now ready to make a grown-up pop record. Whatever the reason, Reality Killed the Video Star, the first Williams album to see a Stateside CD release since 2002’s Escapology (2005’s Intensive Care and 2006’s Rudebox are download-only), is everything you’d expect from a Robbie/Trevor joint venture. It’s flush with perky, if mannered, electronic beats, and Williams is still extremely candid in his lyrics (“All we ever wanted was to look good naked,” he observes in the UK #2 smash “Bodies”). Reality isn’t teeming with potential singles the way, say, Sing When You’re Winning was, but there’s not a duff track in the bunch. Well, there is one duff track: “Blasphemy,” his reunion with longtime collaborator Guy Chambers, which yields a lyric that would make Paul Stanley blush. (“Was it a blast for you? / ‘Cause it’s blasphemy.” Wow.)

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While it’s nice to see Robbie get scrubbed down and dolled up, one gets the sense listening to Reality that this whole grown-up thing is just a phase. As phases go, it’s an extremely pleasant one, but it would not be at all surprising to see Williams go full Lady GaGa with his next one. (Virgin 2009)

Robbie Williams MySpace page
Click to buy Reality Killed the Video Star from Amazon

Lady Gaga: The Fame Monster


RIYL: La Roux, Madonna, Christina Aguilera

‘Tis the season for unbelievably crass record company cash-ins, and Interscope is solidly in the spirit, shoving this eight-song batch of leftovers from Lady Gaga’s The Fame just in time to be stuffed into the stockings of dance-obsessed music lovers everywhere. Given its bottom line-oriented origins, and the disposable nature of this style of pop music in general, there’s no conceivable reason for The Fame Monster to work any better than your average strike-while-the-iron-is-hot compilation, but as Gomer Pyle would say: Surprise, surprise! If these are Lady Gaga’s table scraps, it’s a little frightening to imagine what she might have on tap for her next full-length affair. The Fame Monster comes on strong with “Bad Romance,” with a towering wall of synths and soulful vocals that suggest what might have happened if Jim Steinman and Bonnie Tyler had been born 30 years later; from there, Gaga touches on ABBA-esque pop (“Alejandro”) and torch balladry (“Speechless”), has a diva summit with Beyonce (“Telephone”), and throws a wicked S&M dance party (“Teeth”). At a dizzying 35 minutes, Monster concludes just when it feels like it’s really getting warmed up, but there’s nothing wrong with leaving ‘em wanting more, right? The closest thing to an eight-sided single you’re going to hear all year, The Fame Monster proves art and commerce really can get along sometimes. (Interscope 2009)

Lady Gaga MySpace page

Rihanna: Rated R


RIYL: Keri Hilson, Amerie, Jordin Sparks

Lest you think Rihanna meant to make some kind of cute alliterative play by naming her fourth album Rated R, she quickly disabuses any such notions by getting down to business with a collection every bit as inappropriate for young ears as its title would suggest. “I’m such a fuckin’ lady,” she purrs in the second track, “Wait Your Turn,” and from there it’s off to war. When last we heard from Rihanna, she was urging us to stand under her umbrella; this time out, she’s more focused on letting us know how hard she is, bragging about licking her gun because “revenge is sweet,” and barking “Get it up … is you big enough?” The music reflects this lyrical left turn; the arrangements are braced with metallic, tricked-out beats, cold, buzzing synths, and stacks of raw electric guitars (that’s Slash you hear on the ridiculous “Rockstar 101,” which finds her boasting, “Rocking this club / Got my middle finger up / I don’t give a fuck”).

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It’s a curious blend, really, because as aggressive as Rated R wants to be – and often is, craptastic ballads like “Stupid in Love” and “Te Amo” notwithstanding – Rihanna can never get past her steel-plated drone of a voice long enough to really make it work. More than anything, she just sounds bored, whether she’s declaring herself a “gangsta 4 life” or strolling her way through a duet with will.i.am. This doesn’t blunt the impact of Rated R’s best moments, like the thudding “Hard” and softcore porn of “Rude Boy”; taken in total, it can even function as a sort of meta statement on the emotional disconnect between mainstream culture and its young consumers. In a pop climate where lack of emotion is the norm, Rihanna’s bloodless art makes perfect sense. Still, after a while, it’s impossible not to wish for some good old-fashioned passion. Remember when R&B had soul? (Def Jam 2009)

Rihanna MySpace page

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