The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit

Over the years I’ve been reluctant to get rid of music that isn’t good enough to enjoy repeatedly, but not bad enough to outright dismiss.  But now that I’ve acquired close to 30,000 songs it’s time to make some decisions, and while hard drive space may be unlimited my patience is not.  So in the Yea or Nay series I’ll give an album one final chance to prove its worth and avoid being jettisoned into the cold, black expanse of my Recycle Bin.

I’ve observed over the past several years that few groups of music fans are as fickle as frequenters of indie music blogs.  They seem to judge music by some set of unwritten, yet ever-changing rules.  The slightest transgression – a change in sound, label, or look, for instance – is enough to turn album reviews into obituaries.  Such seemed to be the case with Minneapolis-based Tapes ‘n Tapes.  After their 2005 full-length debut, The Loon, was lauded by taste makers like Pitchfork, the quartet seemed to be off and running.  I even got into the game, albeit a little later.

And then…the dreaded followup record.  The first big change for Walk It Off was that the group enlisted one of them fancy, pro-fessional producers (Dave Friedmann).  The next was a change in style – away from the nervous, angular indie rock that I found endearing and toward a beefier, monolithic guitar rock approach.  I was so disappointed in Walk It Off I couldn’t be bothered to write more than a few sentences for my review.  I read quite a few other reviews, and even the most positive ones seemed to be fueled more by the residual goodwill generated by The Loon than by any inherent qualities Walk It Off possessed.

So it’s been just over two years since the record’s release, and still it sits largely ignored in my MediaMonkey library.  So it’s time to decide – does Walk It Off find new life or get the boot?

The first thought I have in listening to this album again is how TNT’s style isn’t all that changed from the previous disc.  What has changed is the songwriting and sound – and neither for the better.  First the sound – this is definitely a much more professional-sounding record, but that actually works against it.  Tapes ‘n Tapes are not a particularly complex or challenging group, and this new dense, drum-centric and reverb-heavy mix sounds like an attempt to make them sound like a more forceful and important band than they are.  All it really makes me think is “holy crap all this distortion is annoying.”

Next, and most importantly, are the songs.  They just aren’t there.  Of the dozen tracks on Walk It Off, only “Hang Them All” recalls the energy and infectious fun of The Loon.  Not coincidentally, it was the album’s lead single.  But even then, the chorus doesn’t kick in until the last 45 seconds of the song and therefore it feels like a wasted opportunity.  A few other songs – “Conquest”, “Say Back Something”, and “Demon Apple” for example – hint at something better but ultimately fall a little short.  The latter pair contain some of the color and subtlety I suspect the band was going for throughout most of the record.

The rest of the album is a paint-by-numbers exercise in generic, modern indie rock.  It’s decent but does absolutely nothing to distinguish itself.  Tapes ‘n Tapes aren’t the greatest musicians in the world so they live or die on the strength of their songs.  And when you can go through an entire album as a listener and recall exactly one melody, that’s death.  Almost everything about this record screams we are a serious band and we are proving it to you with this serious music.

I was little too harsh on Walk It Off when it was released, but I think my disappointment was understandable.  But while I can see what Tapes ‘n Tapes was shooting for on the album, it still feels like a huge misstep.  Who knows, maybe in time this will be seen as the transition album that pointed the way to greater things.  But for now I can’t really imagine myself wanting to listen to the whole thing again.  “Hang Them All” gets a reprieve, as do “Conquest” and “The Dirty Dirty”, but I’m deleting the rest.  That’s three saves out of 12 songs.

The final verdict: Nay

Dear reader, in my travels to bring you reports of local performances by various musical acts, I have encountered some strange people.  But over the weekend I encountered one of the strangest yet – the Brooklyn Hipster.  For those not from the New York area, it’s important to note that Brooklyn is to Hipsters as Mecca is to Muslims or Wal-Mart is to rednecks.  It’s the source of their strength and identity, which in this case means lots of bad haircuts, wool caps, and faux vintage clothing.  They’re harmless for the most part, but damn are they annoying in large groups.

…keep digging In Concert: Field Music w/The Spinto Band and The Mugs

I think it’s fair to say that I was spoiled musically by growing up in the ’80s, the tail end of a long period where bands usually released albums no more than 1-2 years apart.  So when great newer acts like Manchester’s Doves come along and take longer than that I get impatient.  It’s been more a little more than four years since the group’s excellent third record, Some Cities, and after reading about so many delays with their newest I was starting to lose hope.  But now Kingdom of Rust is here, and all is well.

My overall impression of Rust is that it represents a nice synthesis of the sounds and styles the band explored on their first three albums, but is by no means an artistic retread.  The bulk of the record leans more toward the dense and atmospheric tendencies displayed on Lost Souls and The Last Broadcast, but the direct approach favored on Some Cities rears its head on occasion.

The beauty of Doves’ music has always been their uncanny ability to make even the simplest tunes sound and feel epic – witness the bouncy opening cut, “Jetstream”, which is really a dance-rock song disguised as neo-prog.  Similarly there’s “Spellbound”, which makes up for its lack of immediate gratification with an aura of darkness and considered songcraft.

The band deviates from their typical approach a few times, however, to marvelous effect.  The first is the title track, a danceable but melancholy alt-country shuffle (I love the chorus of “My God, it takes an ocean of trust/In the kingdom of rust”).  Then there’s one of my early favorites, “Compulsion”, wherein Doves reveals their funky side and call to mind the recent work of bands like TV On the Radio.  It probably goes on a tad too long but is a real treat.

Elsewhere on the album, I was reminded of Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd (with the harsher and weirder edges smoothed down) on “Outsiders”, which explodes out of the gate with an urgent rhythm and a liberal dose of analog-sounding synthesizers.  Add in the deliciously fat, distorted bass line and you’ve got another winner on your hands.  Likewise I felt another callback to early Floyd on the vaguely psychedelic stomp-rock of “House of Mirrors”, which revels in heavy reverb and hard-panned effects and guitars. It’s one of the many examples of why listening to this album with a good pair of headphones is a must.

Of the 11 songs on Kingdom of Rust, only the peppy but not particularly memorable “Winter Hill” feels superfluous.  But that’s remedied with the next song, “10:03″, which begins with a pleading, spiritual vibe.  Just as it starts to feel like nothing more than an interlude it gathers steam at the halfway point and builds to a satisfying, beefy crescendo.

The whole affair closes with “Lifelines”, one of the more hopeful-sounding songs on the record.  It serves as a sort of thematic soft landing and was a great choice to finish the album.  So yeah, Kingdom of Rust was well worth the four-year wait , but you won’t hear me complain if they can get the next album out by 2011 or so.

Track listing:
1. “Jetstream”
2. “Kingdom of Rust”
3. “The Outsiders”
4. “Winter Hill”
5. “10:03″
6. “The Greatest Denier”
7. “Birds Flew Backwards”
8. “Spellbound”
9. “Compulsion”
10. “House of Mirrors”
11. “Lifelines”

Watch the video for “Kingdom of Rust”:

One of the true bright spots of last year’s bummer of a musical 2008, The Week That Was (the current solo project of Field Music’s Peter Brewis) is in the midst of a brief jaunt across the Pond.  In fact, the show was billed as “Field Music Presents The Week That Was”.  Last night brought them (and a trio of openers) to the rather intimate Mercury Lounge in New York City’s Lower East Side.  It’s the first time a Field Music-related project has hit the States since School of Language was here early last year, so I jumped at the chance to see them.

But first, let’s talk opening acts.  There were three of them, although I missed the first one (Monuments).  The second, Philadelphia’s own Arc in Round, put on a decent performance that was unfortunately partly sunk by lousy vocal acoustics.  Most of the songs they performed put me in mind of a typical late-’80s episode of 120 Minutes.  Not bad, but not particularly memorable.

Hallelujah the Hills followed, and the leap in musicianship and compositional skill was amazing.  The six-piece ensemble out of Boston put on very good show, mixing subdued pieces featuring a cello with upbeat pieces that had me and many others in the club moving.  I was impressed enough that I’ve already acquired their most recent album, Collective Psychosis Begone.

While this was going on, observant fans in attendance may have spotted David Brewis standing around inside the venue.  But if they did they sure didn’t act like it.  I can only assume they didn’t recognize him, which I suppose is understandable.  I didn’t want to be one of “those fans” and bother him so I left him alone.  Anyway, on to the show.

The touring version of The Week That Was that took the stage is scaled down from the one on the album – it consists only of Peter Brewis on guitar, keyboard and vocals, David Brewis on drums and vocals, Peter Gofton on bass, marimba (or something similar) and backing vocals, and Kev Dosdale on keyboard, guitar and backing vocals.  (Brewis took over for Dosdale at the keyboard halfway through the set).  Almost more than my eagerness to just hear the band play, I was curious to see how successfully they could replicate the dense, rich textures captured on record.

To their credit, the quartet pulled it off with aplomb.  As I expected, the focus of the show was on the brothers.  Peter (standing a lot shorter than I thought, incidentally) delivered spot-on vocals and excellent work on guitar and keyboards, while brother David stood out with his muscular drumming and beautifully complementary backing vocals.  Gofton and Dosdale acquitted themselves nicely, although the regimented structure of the show – there were just a few moments that really expanded musically on the album – kept them from showing any real chops.

The only real missing ingredient was the string section, and I was able to mentally add them into the mix so it wasn’t a problem.  An unexpected benefit of the pared down lineup was more of a focus on songcraft than production flourishes.  And it turns out that even stripped down to basics, a composition with the name Brewis attached to it is a potent force indeed.  Bring on the next Field Music project!

A few months into this year I couldn’t shake the feeling that 2008 just wasn’t going to be the great year for new music that 2007 was.  And so here I am, about a week away from 2009, and I still feel the same way.  It wasn’t a total wash mind you, as there was definitely some quality to be enjoyed.  So here’s my take on the 2008 music year – good, bad, and ugly.

The Best of the Best (Albums)

Fleet Foxes – Fleet Foxes (Sub Pop)

Yeah, this seems like an obvious choice, but it’s also a damn good one.  I’m always up for listening to good vocal harmonies, and this band has them in spades.  The music is gorgeous to boot, and is a highly engaging blend of folk titans like CSNY, America, and early ’70s Fleetwood Mac.  The vocal round of “White Winter Hymnal” is worth the price of admission by itself.  And as a bonus, I’ve seen enough live clips of material from this album to witness that its beauty is not just the result of studio trickery.

Metallica – Death Magnetic (Warner Bros.)

You can accuse me of falling for the hype if you want, but this is an excellent album.  While it’s not enough to make me throw away my copy of Master of Puppets, it’s certainly strong enough to make me forget the group’s creatively dry Load era.  There’s a touch of filler present, but tracks like “All Nightmare Long” and “My Apocalypse” stack up against the best material Metallica has ever produced.  And most importantly of all, the group is once again relevant to the world of metal.

The only bummer regarding Death Magnetic is the craptastic mixing/mastering job, which like far too many modern albums is compressed to the point of being physically uncomfortable to listen to.  Fortunately there is relief in the form of an alternate mix produced for the Guitar Hero video game, which was widely distributed over torrent sites.  I’m not advocating that sort of downloading of course, but let’s just say it’s far superior to the officially released version.

School of Language – Sea From Shore (Thrill Jockey)

Whether or not Field Music ever reconvenes under that name is sort of irrelevant since Peter and David Brewis, the creative energy behind Field Music, seem to be carrying the torch of top-notch English pop/rock as if nothing had changed.  Witness David’s first release as School of Language, a slightly more understated but still masterfully executed piece of pop bliss.

The Week That Was – The Week That Was (Memphis Industries)

Speaking of the brothers Brewis, August was Peter’s turn to knock one out of the park and he did with the self-titled debut from The Week That Was.  It’s a denser and darker journey than Sea From Shore, but no less rewarding.  Taking musical cues from early ’80s Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush, Brewis has delivered one of the most satisfying and sadly overlooked releases of the year.

Russian Circles – Station (Suicide Squeeze)

You’d think that an album of metal instrumentals, averaging seven minutes in length, would not be particularly interesting or rewarding.  You would be wrong.  There is a craftsmanhip evident on Station that belies the fact that it’s only the band’s second album.  It sounds like thoroughly modern metal, but it feels vintage.

Randy Newman – Harps and Angels (Nonesuch)

2008 was the year I finally hopped on the Randy Newman bandwagon, and Harps and Angels played a large part in that change.  No longer is he just the guy from those Family Guy bits or the man I blame for a bunch of schlocky Pixar music.  Well, he still is a little.  But I’ve connected with his top-notch lyricism and easy-going, modernized New Orleans-style blues piano, which are in full flower on this record.  Newman thrives when he has nice, big targets for his cynicism, and he has plenty of material to work with here (from the Supreme Court to the Bush administration to their hypocritical pop music critics).  But the tender moments are just as effective, and songs like “Losing You” and “Feels LIke Home” will undoubtedly stand the test of time.

Dengue Fever – Venus on Earth (M80)

I predicted back in April that this would make my year-end list, and I called it (funny how that works).  This off-kilter blend of Cambodian lounge pop and psychedelia is one of the oddest albums to win my heart.  It was also good enough to get the attention of Peter Gabriel, who decided to distribute it on his Real World imprint.  It would be easy to focus your attention on the spellbinding vocals of Cambodia’s own Chhom Nimol, but the catchy musical arrangements are the real star of this effort.  Venus on Earth swings, it grooves, and it captivates.

Danilo Pérez – Across the Crystal Sea (Verve)

I was turned on to this release by the JazzPortraits blog (not updated nearly enough for my liking), and it’s a winner.  Pérez’s piano is backed this time by a string section led by the renowned arranger and conductor Claus Ogerman, known to many jazz fans for his work with Bill Evans, Antonio Carlos Jobim, and Diana Krall among others.  It’s a subtle and gossamer work that never slides into the dreaded “easy listening” realm.  Guest vocalist Cassandra Wilson shines on a pair of tracks, “Lazy Afternoon” and “(All of a Sudden) My Heart Sings”.

Goldfrapp – Seventh Tree (Mute)

Seventh Tree is one of those albums that I suspect will only get better with age.  Everything is slightly muted here, from Alison Goldfrapp’s vocals to the arrangements themselves.  But in trading sex appeal and danceability for nuance and delicacy, Goldfrapp has produced their most rewarding album since Felt Mountain.

Build – Build (New Amsterdam)

Recalling at times both the structured and subdued approach of Philip Glass and the sheer musical joy of Penguin Cafe Orchestra, the self-titled debut from Brooklyn’s Build can best be described as classical music for people who hate classical music.  It’s exuberant and poppy but never gimmicky, and I highly recommend it.

Jim Noir – Jim Noir (Barsuk)

The eponymous followup to Noir’s 2006 debut, Tower of Love, finds him mining the same sound as the first time – namely the ’60s salad days of ’60s British pop, Mod, and psychedelia.  The formula worked for Noir (real name Alan Roberts) the first go-around and it certainly works now.  The melodies are not awe-inspiring but the DIY charm still holds; don’t be surprised if you find yourself humming parts of “Don’t You Worry” and “Happy Day Today.”

Next: The best of the rest…

A pair of new albums from both sides of the Atlantic have found their way into my rotation this week.  From the good ol’ U.S. of A comes Backyard Tire Fire‘s The Places We Lived (Hyena Records), the followup to last year’s excellent Vagabonds and Hooligans.  Stylistically, this album shares many traits with its predecessor but is definitely not a rehash.

Checking in at just over the half-hour mark, frontman and guitarist Ed Anderson and company (brother Matt on bass, Tim Kramp on drums) get right down to business with the deceptively simple title track.  It didn’t make a strong impression on me when I first listened to it, but days later the main guitar riff was still rattling around my head, a tribute to Anderson’s songwriting.  The integration of synths and chimes (not to mention a brief, Beatle-esque trumpet part) into the song is a welcome touch.

The album boasts other strong songs, my favorites being “Shoulda Shut It” and “How in the Hell Did You Get Back Here?”.  The former is a rich, mid-tempo Wilco-like number that sounds like it could’ve been part of the Vagabonds and Hooligans sessions, while the latter is balls-out rocker that will probably sound phenomenal live (should BTF choose to include it in their set).

In contrast to Vagabonds, The Places We Lived is heavy on slower, piano-driven songs, a creative direction that may alienate some fans.  That’s not to say guitars aren’t still a big part of the BTF sound, they’re simply a bit further down in the mix compared to past efforts.  What is undeniable is that due to their presence and also to the band’s devotion to analog recording methods, this album exudes a warm, down-home vibe.

What holds this album back from overtaking Vagabonds as the group’s best work is the inclusion of a couple of decent tracks that don’t feel fully formed (“Everybody’s Down” and “One Wrong Turn”), and a feeling of sameness on some of the tracks.  There is, however enough strong material here to make The Places We Lived worth getting, and getting into.

Track listing:

“The Places We Lived”
“Shoulda Shut It”
“Everybody’s Down”
“Time With You”
“Welcome to the Factory”
“How in the Hell Did You Get Back Here?”
“Rainy Day (don’t go away)”
“One Wrong Turn”
“Legal Crime”
“Home Today”

The second album up for review is the eponymous debut of Peter Brewis’s new project, The Week That Was.  Brewis is a name that should be familiar to fans of quality indie music.  He and brother David co-founded Field Music in 2004, and released two outstanding studio records.  They stopped being a band in 2007 and are now a brand, allowing the brothers to pursue their musical muses without the restrictions they felt being in Field Music placed on them.

David was the first to release a new album from the Field Music brand School of Language, the superb Sea From Shore.  Now it’s Peter’s turn with The Week That Was (Memphis Industries), released last week in the UK and this week in America.  It’s definitely a darker and more complex effort than I expected, but it is a totally satisfying one as well.

A lot of comparisons have been made between this album and early ’80s efforts from Kate Bush and Peter Gabriel, and while I have never bothered with Kate Bush I can buy the Gabriel references.  The heavy percussion and guitar stabs of tracks like “Learn to Learn” and “Scratch the Surface” recall Gabriel’s third album right and Abacab/Mama-era Genesis away.  Field Music’s signature sound is all over this record, however, just in slightly skewed form.  Think of the moodier and denser tracks from Tones of Town and you’ll get the idea.

The Week That Was is actually a concept album, dealing with the twin strands of crime and our relationship with mass media.  It was inspired both by Brewis’s self-imposed one-week retreat from television and by the crime fiction of Paul Auster.  The problem is that with only a half-hour to tell its story, the album is more about ideas and impressions than a concrete story.  But that’s a minor inconvenience when weighed against the music, which is highly rewarding.

While there are not as many “wow” moments on this album as there are on Sea From Shore, The Week That Was is the rare album that actually does get better with subsequent listens – so those seeking instant gratification should look elsewhere (more immediate songs like “The Airport Line” and “Scratch the Surface” not withstanding).  Now that two excellent post-Field Music albums have been released, I can confidently declare that the future looks bright for fans of all things Brewis.

Track listing:

“Learn to Learn”
“The Good Life”
“The Story Waits for No One”
“It’s All Gone Quiet”
“The Airport Line”
“Yesterday’s Papers”
“Come Home”
“Scratch the Surface”
“A Waltz in the Park” (bonus track exclusive to eMusic)

Video bonus!  Check out the promo clip for “Scratch the Surface”, directed by (and starring) Peter Brewis:

From Idolator via the AV Club comes a pretty cool music meme – compile a list of your favorite albums, with one for each year you’ve been alive. Sounds easy enough, but some years are positively stacked with music I love.  Forcing me to choose among my musical children is just so…cruel.

For me the most bountiful years were 1975-1978, 1980, 1982-1984, 1990, 1997, 1999, 2002, 2006, and 2007.

1975 – Kiss, Alive!
1976 – Led Zeppelin, Presence
1977 – Rush, A Farewell to Kings
1978 – Ace Frehley/Kiss, Ace Frehley
1979 – Pink Floyd, The Wall
1980 – Genesis, Duke
1981 – Rush, Moving Pictures
1982 – Rush, Signals
1983 – Iron Maiden, Piece of Mind
1984 – Iron Maiden, Powerslave
1985 – Kiss, Asylum
1986 – Queensrÿche, Rage for Order
1987 – Anthrax, Among the Living
1988 – Queensrÿche, Operation: Mindcrime
1989 – King’s X, Gretchen Goes to Nebraska
1990 – Queensrÿche, Empire
1991 – Queen, Innuendo
1992 – King’s X, King’s X
1993 – Robert Plant, Fate of Nations
1994 – Queensrÿche, Promised Land
1995 – Faith No More, King for a Day… Fool for a Lifetime
1996 – King’s X, Ear Candy
1997 – Hank Jones, Favors
1998 – Pearl Jam, Yield
1999 – Ben Folds Five, The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner
2000 – Doves, Lost Souls
2001 – Spoon, Girls Can Tell
2002 – Koop, Waltz for Koop
2003 – Muse, Absolution
2004 – Mastodon, Leviathan
2005 – The Bad Plus, Suspicious Activity?
2006 – Muse, Black Holes and Revelations
2007 – Field Music, Tones of Town
2008 (so far) – School of Language, Sea from Shore

As I would’ve predicted, there’s some pretty clear trends at play here.  Most of the bands I grew up loving (Kiss, Iron Maiden, Rush, etc.) were at the peak of their powers during my youth, thus their early list dominance.  That also explains why hard rock and metal are heavily represented on this list until the mid 1990s, when they either dropped off my radar entirely or were just not releasing stuff I was all that interested in.  In fact, metal pretty much disappears for good until 2004, when the awesome Leviathan was released.

The other item of note is that I was listening to most of the albums at the front of the list when they came out.  Starting around the mid-’90s, my musical horizons began to expand and I started going back and filling in holes. Were this list to go back a few decades there’d be a ton of Beatles and jazz on it.