Portishead: Third CD review (Broward-Palm Beach New Times)

The weepy white girls who relentlessly spun Portishead’s two ’90s studio albums may find little on Third that recalls the existential meltdowns they had during their collegiate days. There’s no spy-movie danger, there’s no filigreed trip-hop beats, no faux-Billie Holiday vocals… there’s no beauty. Instead, there’s just raw dread, crackly production, and the sound of a vocalist struggling to get up off the carpet long enough to sing her lines. In other words, Portishead has done the impossible: It’s returned after a decade’s absence with a record that simultaneously obliterates its legacy while making good on the wildest qualitative expectations one may have furtively held for the group’s re-emergence. Instead of looking to John Barry for sonic inspiration, Geoff Barrow has dug up his Silver Apples records (”We Carry On”), his Kraftwerk bootlegs (”Silence”), and a raft of nastily distorted samples (everything else) and — along with Adrian Utley’s distinctive post-jazz guitar work — concocted a sparse and decidedly unglamorous soundtrack for Beth Gibbons to warble over. Gibbons’ voice is still a questionable thing: If a monochromatic singer can be capable of dynamic expression, she is the one to prove the argument. It’s extremely telling that, rather than a gentle number like “Hunter” — the album’s most traditional, Portishead-sounding cut — the group decided to release “Machine Gun” as Third’s debut single. From its glitchy, distorted drum machine and oppressive samples to its insistent refusal to incorporate any sort of melodic structure, “Machine Gun” defiantly draws a bright line between Portishead’s past and Portishead’s present. It’s a strong statement of intent that goes a long way to explaining how remarkable this new album truly is.

First appeared in the May 15, 2008 issue of Broward-Palm Beach New Times.

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Love Psychedelico: This Is Love Psychedelico CD review (Broward-Palm Beach New Times)

It’s never worked before, so why on earth should it work now? Shonen Knife, Pizzicato Five, Puffy Amiyumi … despite their ineffable charms, progressive Japanese pop bands have consistently failed to capture the American imagination, beyond discerning indie cognoscenti or cartoon fans. Thus the decision to introduce long-running J-pop duo Love Psychedelico to U.S. audiences seems counterintuitive, at best.

And thank God for that. It’s deeply encouraging to see a label like HackTone make the unsound business decision to place a bad bet like this. The label’s raison d’être – “to rescue albums unjustly languishing in obscurity” – pretty much guarantees they’ll never be popping champagne corks when the stock splits. But it also means that they care enough about the music they’re releasing to give it the love-and-care promotion it deserves. And a male-female Japanese pop duo with a vibe that’s less Shinjuku than Sheryl Crow is gonna need a whole lot of love and care.

If this is beginning to sound less like a record review than a 100-level class in How Not To Succeed in the Music Business, let me get one thing out of the way quickly: I’ve been an enormous fan of this band for most of the 21st century. Having picked up one of their earliest singles on a trip to Japan, and being summarily blown away by the fact that a band had the temerity to make a song called “Lady Madonna” that had nothing to do with the Beatles, I’ve kept a half-world-away eye on what they’ve done in the meantime. To start with (and speaking of temerity), they called their first album The Greatest Hits, which seemed to me less an empty bluff than a desire that radio were populated with quirky, languorous pop-rock like “Are You Still Dreaming Ever-Free?” and “Your Song.” And if you’ve ever heard the radio in Tokyo, you must understand that their desire for such progress is probably a lot more rabid than ours.

The latter track along with “Lady Madonna” and 11 other cuts culled from the group’s four studio albums comprise this compilation. Trafficking in a sophisticated and organic approach that owes a considerable debt to American classic rock and AM pop, Love Psychedelico defies nearly every stereotype of Japanese pop. There’s no squealing, helium-constricted baby-girl vocal shouts, no syrupy reconfigurations of ’90s synth-drum patterns or giddy bubblegum dance pabulum. It’s J-pop for grown-ups … grown-ups who don’t mind being utterly baffled by the seamless shifts that singer Kumi makes between Japanese and abstract English. That is the only cultural barrier Love Psychedelico puts up for non-Japanese listeners. Perhaps this compilation stands a better chance than I’m giving it, after all.

First appeared in the May 15, 2008 issue of Orlando Weekly.

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The Science of Pop feature (Broward-Palm Beach New Times)

A few years ago, a psychology lecturer at a British college came up with the formula for the “perfect” mood-lifting pop song. Dr. Tomas Chamorro-Premuzic posited a certain equation involving pitch, positive lyrics, and serotonin levels that, when tweaked in precise amounts, would result in a vastly improved emotional state for listeners. The most formulaically perfect song? “Wake Up Boo!” by the Boo Radleys topped a list populated by the likes of the Beatles, the Beach Boys, and the Jackson 5. Does that sound right to you?
Subject(s):
the search for the formulaically perfect pop song A few weeks ago, Joshua Allen of the Morning News blog put forth the notion that the perfect pop song was exactly two minutes and 42 seconds long. His assessment was decidedly less scientific than Chamorro-Premuzic’s, but he offers “There She Goes” by the La’s, “California Dreaming” by the Beach Boys, and “Don’t Do Me Like That” by Tom Petty as proof that, if a song is precisely 2:42, it can have the most impact on a listener.
These are but two examples of the logic of science continuing to intrude upon the art of music. Like other such intrusions, they are complete nonsense. To think that pop perfection can be broken down to a science is silly, though some audiophiles insist that chart-topping success is just an algorithm away.

Celemony, a company from Germany (of course), has been creating software called Melodyne since 1997. It’s essentially a digital tool designed solely for the purpose of masking mistakes. A recent addition to the Melodyne software is called Direct Note Access, and to call it Auto-Tune on steroids is to glibly dismiss the truly evil nature of this digital demon. Enabling producers and engineers to hone in on a single bum note — within a chord — and then correct its pitch, length, or whatever, DNA (get it?) gives recording technicians the power they’ve never known they wanted: the ability to eliminate and alter any shred of humanity that an artist inadvertently left in his or her performance.

Unsurprisingly, there’s a bit of backlash to all this perfection-seeking. Even less surprisingly, some of it’s coming from Steve Albini. The producer/engineer/fly-in-the-ointment worked with Kim Deal during the production of the new Breeders album to codify a “new” process called “All Wave Analog Recording.” According to Albini, “to record All Wave, one must use no computers, no digital recording, no Auto-Tuning, or any other mainstays of contemporary production… [It] carries through the entire production and mastering process, including mixing, editing, sequencing, post-production, and the exceptional step of an all-analog direct-metal master for the vinyl LP.”

That this process sounds remotely revolutionary is startling. But to dismiss it as the grumblings of a Luddite would be unwise, given the threats raised by the eggheads at the door. After all, “Please Please Please” by James Brown is 2:44 and is full of missed notes and sonic imperfections. Would you want to live in a world where it didn’t make the cut?

First appeared in the May 15, 2008 issue of Broward-Palm Beach New Times.

Be Your Own Pet show preview (Broward-Palm Beach New Times)

Now that the kids in Be Your Own Pet aren’t exactly kids anymore – they were still in high school when the explosive garage-rock band was born, but they’re nearly drinking age now – it’s not surprising that they’re beginning to show a little bit of, um, maturity. Sure, Jemina Pearl still spits and storms across the stage, and sure, the band still begins every song like a caffeinated racehorse out of the gate, but the production work by Steve McDonald on BYOP’s new disc, Get Awkward, applies a little finesse to their attack. Although there’s little that can excuse the band touring with the likes of She Wants Revenge, one has to wonder what part of “maturity” required BYOP to cave to record company demands to remove three songs from Get Awkward because they were “too violent.” Punk rock is supposed to be at least a little scary, right? Guess growing up is hard to do sometimes.

First appeared in the May 15, 2008 issue of Broward-Palm Beach New Times.

Far End of the Long Tail: Lost Classics from the Bargain Bin (Orlando Weekly)

Despite the fervent wishes of some pundits to move us right out of the physical-media age, CDs, records and even cassette tapes are still the only places a lot of music can be found. Due to licensing entanglements, lazy publishers or just forgetfulness on behalf of the listening public, there are millions, perhaps billions of songs floating around the nonvirtual world, just waiting to be rediscovered as lost classics. And not all of them are collectors items.

In trawling the virtual bargain bins of Amazon.com and Half.com, one can find many albums that, if released today, would likely receive a warm reception. Yet there they linger, feebly begging someone to put off buying a cup of coffee (or in some cases, a stick of gum) in exchange for an hour or so of sonic pleasure.

To help readers navigate the depths, the following is a list of nine albums – all at least 15 years old – that should be considered alt-rock classics, but aren’t. They’re all out of print on CD, none of them are available on iTunes, and not one costs more than five bucks for a used (good condition) copy. Hell, more than half of ’em cost less than two bucks. Consider it the cheapest music history lesson ever.

@ indicates other albums by this artist are either in print or available on iTunes.

AC Temple, Sourpuss (Blast First, 1989; $2.99 at Amazon.com) An explosive British indie noise-rock band that drew comparisons to Sonic Youth at the time. However, singer Jane Bromley has a full-throated howl that’s far more appropriate to this firestorm of guitars than Kim Gordon’s monotone. Produced by Jon Langford (Mekons), this was AC Temple’s third, final and best album.

Das Damen, Triskaidekaphobe (SST, 1988; $1.22 at Half.com) Das Damen’s pop-tinged psychedelia was delivered in a relentless, guitar-heavy fashion, and the band was renowned among underground cognoscenti for delivering the era’s loudest concerts. Underneath all that feedback and noise, though, were strong and un-retro garage-pop tendencies, and this disc finds the group at the height of its powers.

Flop, Whenever You’re Ready (Epic, 1993; 1 cent at Amazon.com @) The second of three albums by these Seattle power-poppers, Whenever You’re Ready is all anthemic major chords and earworm choruses; if the Posies had balls – and drank like the Replacements – they would have sounded like Flop. Rusty Willoughby’s smartass lyrics go a long way toward defining the band’s greatness, but it’s the breezy boldness of the group’s musical approach that’s the real charm here. “Port Angeles” is the best singalong tune about parental alienation and the apocalypse ever written. And, seriously, it costs a penny.

The Fluid, Glue/Roadmouth (Sub Pop, 1990; $4.49 at Half.com) The first non-Northwest band signed to Sub Pop, Denver grungers the Fluid brought a new sensibility to the label beyond just geography. Sadly, most folks only know them now for sharing a split 7-inch with Nirvana (their contribution, “Candy,” is included). This is a compilation of their 1989 Roadmouth LP and its more polished EP follow-up. The band’s finest moments are here, from the blistering high-octane rock of “Black Glove” and “Human Mill” to pummeling covers of Rare Earth (“Big Brother”) and the Troggs (“Our Love Will Still Be There”). The Fluid is reuniting to play Sub Pop’s 20th anniversary celebration this summer.

Junk Monkeys, Bliss (Metal Blade/Warner Bros., 1992; 75 cents at Half.com @)
Detroit’s Junk Monkeys had a lot in common with punk-fueled, melodic rock bands like Soul Asylum, Goo Goo Dolls and the Replacements, right down to the bacchanalian live shows and sugary hooks wrapped in brawny rock. The big difference: The Junk Monkeys never started sucking, much less reached the taint-tickling, sell-out lows of those aforementioned bands. While their third and best album would be a bargain at any price, snagging it for less than a buck is a steal.

Mary My Hope, Museum (Silvertone/BMG, 1989; $4.50 at Amazon.com) If he’s known at all, James Hall is most likely known for his New Orleans–based Pleasure Club or his work with Jimmy Gnecco of Ours. But Hall’s original stomping ground was Atlanta, as the leader of Mary My Hope. Museum’s sweaty grandiosity is unapologetically pompous and room-filling, so much so that he had to take the band to England for a while to get any attention. Still, the gothic tinges and simmering hostility of the disc predated the approach of the Twilight Singers by a decade.

Poster Children, Daisychain Reaction (TwinTone/Sire, 1992; $1.98 at Amazon.com @) Still going strong after more than 20 years of kicking out their wiry punk-rock jams, Poster Children’s creative high-water mark remains their second album. Produced by Steve Albini, Daisychain compresses all the wild energy of their debut and delivers it as a powerful musical wallop. Tight, angular songs that are as catchy as they are bruising.

Swell, 41 (American Recordings, 1994; $1.89 at Half.com @) In the grunge-obsessed early ’90s, a fucked-up acoustic act didn’t stand much of a chance. But for some reason, this disc from San Francisco’s Swell got a major-label push, which means that thousands of unlistened-to promos have populated bargain bins for 15 years now. Melodic and heavy, incredibly fragile and world-weary, 41 combines languid, semi-psychedelic acoustic passages with occasional flourishes of rock bombast.

Ultramarine, United Kingdoms (Sire, 1993; 75 cents at Half.com @) This crunchy-granola ambient house duo convinced Soft Machine main man Robert Wyatt to write (or co-write) and sing on three of this album’s songs. Alas, the early ’90s was not a kind era to aging progsters, and Wyatt’s presence was seen less as a momentous bridging of psychedelic cultures and more the ramblings of a doddering old artist.

First appeared May 8, 2008 in Orlando Weekly.

Neva Dinova: You May Already Be Dreaming CD review (Stomp & Stammer)

The third album from sad-eyed Omaha dreampoppers Neva Dinova starts with a number (“Love From Below”) that’s built around the simple refrain of “It’s so hard, hard, hard.” Little about Neva Dinova is hard – in terms of complexity or heaviness – but the weight-of-the-world vibe the group indulges in certainly makes it seem as if the simple act of facing the world in the morning is, indeed, hard, hard, hard. Owing much to the spacious swoon of mid-period American Music Club – but without the bitingly cynical lyricism – You May Already Be Dreaming finds the group again mixing rural pastoralism with barroom atmospherics. But here there’s also bit of sludgy dirge that’s somewhat surprising. When the band ambles their way into the molasses-thick bridge of “Clouds” or the explosive, shoegazer-y expansiveness that closes out “Apocalypse,” the more reflective moments of cuts like “Tryptophan” and “Funeral Home” are balanced out beautifully.

First appeared in the May issue of Stomp & Stammer.

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Thalia Zedek Band: Liars and Prayers CD review (Stomp & Stammer)

Thalia Zedek should be the Patti Smith for the Nirvana generation, praised far and wide for her raw, street-worn blues poetry. Instead, the Nirvana generation got PJ Harvey and was happy with it. Perhaps they deserve it. Yet, in a just world, Zedek’s evolution – from Uzi to Live Skull to Come to her solo work – would be mileposts in an epochal career. Her latest album is her first since 2004, and finds her continuing to redefine the collision of gutter-rat pain and exceptional elegance. While complex instrumentation and arrangements are brought to bear, the essence here – especially on tracks like “Lower Allston” and “Come Undone” – is that particularly Zedek-ian melodic sensibility that makes her work so instantly recognizable. It’s simultaneously epic and downtrodden, and when accentuated by Zedek’s rough-hewn voice, it’s a completely marvelous thing. This is the blues performed without a hint of I-IV-V regression, rendered both beautiful and horrific in a way that only the inimitable Zedek could pull off.

First appeared in the May 2008 issue of Stomp & Stammer.

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Iron Man movie review (Baltimore Citypaper)

For a comic-book movie, Iron Man is pretty good. If that sounds like a case of damning with faint praise, it’s not. The minefield of comic-book movies is littered with movies that either attempted seriousness unbecoming of them or failed to take themselves seriously enough. The ones that have succeeded–like Iron Man–deftly navigate that minefield by delivering marginally believable human protagonists who get to do some truly wicked shit. Robert Downey Jr.’s portrayal of Tony Stark/Iron Man is the comic-book equivalent of the lovable libertine Johnny Depp delivered as Capt. Jack Sparrow, except, being a comic-book hero, Downey has to evidence something of a moral core. His transformation from playboy arms dealer into armor-clad superhero is quite believable; after all, if you were a weapons genius who got kidnapped by terrorists (who happen to be customers of your munitions firm) and could only escape by fashioning a badass, plate-metal getup to your body, you also might have second thoughts about your original profession. As his long-suffering assistant, Gwyneth Paltrow makes the best of a thankless role, as only she can redeem a line such as, “Come quick! Obadiah’s gone insane!” As the aforementioned insane person, Jeff Bridges is an unconventional bad guy, but it’s unclear if that’s because it takes half the movie to reveal he’s a villain or if it’s because he’s Lebowski as evil puppet master. With astonishing effects and enough gadget porn to keep fanboys in fantasyland until the inevitably disappointing sequel, Iron Man turns out to be pretty good. For a comic-book movie.

First appeared May 8, 2008 in Baltimore Citypaper.

Pakistan Zindabad DVD review (Detroit Metrotimes)

A documentary like Pakistan Zindabad may seem, to anyone with more than a passing interest in the politics of the Indian subcontinent, a bit superficial. Covering more than 60 years of Pakistani history in less than two hours, the film breezes through the notable episodes in the country’s brief life with the speed and apparent depth of a Wikipedia entry. However, the sources utilized by director Pascale Lamche and writer Amelie Blom provide illumination, perspective and context that make Pakistan Zindabad a surprisingly rich and informative film. In addition to professorial talking heads, a large number of people with deep understanding of the country’s politics — U.S. ambassadors, former Pakistani government officials — tell their own stories in a way that makes the history come alive. A substantial focus is given to the first Bhutto regime, which is appropriate, since during his rule during the ’70s, Pakistan’s identity — and relationship to the rest of the world — went through a major shift. Bhutto’s dictatorial and authoritarian streak wound up pushing back against him, resulting in his execution and a strong Muslim-oriented military rule that, to this day — despite the secular, democratic attempts of Bhutto’s daughter in the ’80s — deeply informs the country’s politics. Revelations like this are self-evident to many Pakistan observers, but by humanizing the evolution of the country, the makers of Pakistan Zindabad make them apparent to Western viewers who may not have the vaguest understanding of the country beyond its utility to America’s military aims.

First appeared May 8, 2008 in Detroit Metrotimes.

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Noriko’s Dinner Table DVD review (Detroit Metrotimes)

Conceived as an accompaniment to Sion Sono’s devastating and intense 2002 film Suicide Club, Noriko’s Dinner Table is far less brain-rattling than its predecessor, but also far more emotionally intense. “It’s a very long movie, but I’m sure it will keep your eyes glued to the screen until the end,” says director Sono in a brief introduction. (At nearly three hours long, Noriko’s is most definitely “very long.”) However, lacking many of the shocking visual flourishes of Suicide Club, it doesn’t exactly keep one’s eyes glued to the screen. Also, by taking the unusual step of making the follow-up less of a sequel and more of an appendix (the movie tells the tale of but one of the 54 schoolgirls who met their demise in the first film, and takes place before, during and after the events in Suicide Club), Sono indulges in copious amounts of languid, narration-driven exposition. Such an approach typically yields middling results, but the movie is bolstered by the sheer strangeness of the world that young Noriko finds herself in as a member of a “fake family” that rents themselves out to different people. Plus, the deep sense of foreboding given that the viewer knows how things will ultimately end up makes it surprisingly riveting. By focusing on the failures of family and the isolation of the digital age — rather than just on the horror of 54 teenagers hurling themselves in front of an express train — Noriko’s Dinner Table is as satisfying on its own as it is as part of the bigger story Sono aims to tell.

First appeared May 8, 2008 in Detroit Metrotimes.

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