I have been listening to, beginning to listen to and trying to listen to a fair amount of new/semi-new music lately, but I have been a bit lazy/busy as of late, so I'm going to give a series of updates and mini-reviews to clear up my backlog for an essay on indie music I've been meaning to write.
Listening to:
"Ellipse," by Imogen Heap
The electronically enhanced melodies of Heap's voice are often quite lovely, and the easy-listening feel is often punctuated by a surprising urgency and infectiousness. Most of the music might not be "real," but that doesn't detract from its beauty. This album will probably be on my albums of the year list, and "Swoon" might be the year's best song.
"Far," by Regina Spektor
While her intentional oddity might turn some people off, there is an overwhelming sense of buoyancy about this album that makes it both catchy and charming. I also find "Laughing With" to be quite thought provoking.
"Wild Young Hearts," by The Noisettes
I first heard about this band after hearing the absolutely fantastic "Never Forget You" on the radio, and I hoped for an equally fantastic album (their debut is of a completely different -- and not very good -- style). It's not a superb release, but it's growing on me. One of the things I appreciate the most about it is its intentional desire to feel like a throwback to some of of the 60's greatest female African-American artists, most notably Diana Ross. There's plenty of fun stuff here, too.
"Church Music," by David Crowder Band
Though it's not nearly as cohesive, lyrically inspired or original as the band's benchmark "A Collision," it's just as musically inventive and even more technically executed. It is very long and cut to seem like a continuous take, which can make it seem rambling at times, but the band's deft ability to change genres mid-album keeps things interesting. The two prog-rock songs at the end are must-listens.
Beginning to listen to:
"The Incident," by Porcupine Tree
This is a long album, and I've lacked time to listen to the whole thing, but I really like what I've heard. The lyrics are their usual blend of clever and thought provoking, and the music -- most of which consists of different segments of a long song -- is varied and ripe for immersion. While I prefer the pre-metal days of the band to the "In Absentia" and beyond releases, Steven Wilson & Co. still manage to consistently create admirable albums.
Wanting to listen to:
"I and Love and You," by The Avett Brothers
I've only heard two songs by this band, but both are fantastic examples of jangly folk-rock, and I'm a big fan of the vocals. Check them out.
"My Old, Familiar Friend," by Brendan Benson
Again, I've only heard the opening single "A Whole Lot Better," but I'm excited to hear more.
And lastly, after hearing John Lennon's "Mind Games" on the radio today, I wish to renew my quest to find out which of The Beatles would have made it as solo acts if not for the success of their original band. Paul would have succeeded without question, I'm thinking no with Ringo, and I'm not sure about George and John (although I'm leaning "no" with Mr. Lennon). We'll see what happens.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Relient k does the breakup album
I've been awaiting Relient k's new album, "Forget and Not Slow Down," with cautious optimism. As I explained in a recent post, I hoped to see a move away from the poppier sounds of their last EP and album and a move back to frontman Matt Thiessen's consistently creative lyrics. In a nutshell, I wrote, "[the new album] needs to showcase how talented the band is rather than how talented it could be." Well, Oct. 6 has come and gone. How does the new album hold up? Quite well, actually.
The first and most obvious feature is yet another genre switch. The powerpop of their last two albums is all but gone, replaced by some throwback punk-lite (most reminiscent of the band's third album "Two Lefts Don't Make a Right ... But Three Do"), some full-blown rock and even a sizable helping of folk-rock.
The first and title track kicks things off with some classic-if-forgettable Relient k sounds, but it sets the tone for the remainder of the album: this is a melancholy, yet hopeful, reflection on Thiessen's breakup with his girlfriend. While this is borne out in the lyrics (more on those later), the band crafts the musical framework to reflect the subject matter, and many songs have a rather wistful feel to them. The title track is followed by "I Don't Need a Soul," "Candlelight," "Therapy" and "Part of It." The placement of all of the songs seems good, a tribute to the band's ability to seamlessly transition between songs of drastically different genres. Much of the transition is aided by a musical device new to Relient k: song outros, specifically "Flare" (after "Candlelight") and "Outro" (after "Part of It").
"Forget..." as an album is an exercise in buildup, and the second half ups the ante, starting with the melodic "Over It." Then comes the fantastic combination of the rocking "Sahara" and the mellow "Savannah," bridged by the interlude "Oasis" and closed by the odd "Baby." It's rare to hear musical interludes used as well as they are here, and it ends up being one of the album's strongest points. After the "Saharah"/"Savannah" combo comes the power ballad "If You Believe Me" and the climactic closer "This is the End," followed by the piano-laden "(If You Want It)" another outro (but only kind of. It's actually about as long as the song it closes).
Musically, it's the most cohesive the band has ever been. There may not be as many "moments" as there are on their fourth (and best) album, "Mmhmm," but "Forget..." is consistently enjoyable throughout, and the genre-switching combined with the continuous flow makes for a lasting musical impression. It's also nice to see a departure from the electronic sounds that marked parts of their last two releases. While they were often used to good effect, the more natural sound of this record (which, the band reports, only used "real instruments") is a refreshing change.
"Forget..." doesn't disappoint lyrically, either. It's hands down the best written thing the band has released since "Mmhmm," and while it may not as often reach the heights of tracks like "When I Go Down" or "Life After Death and Taxes," some of Thiessen's best writing is here, from the melancholy "I Don't Need a Soul" to the playful "Candlelight" to the poignant "(If You Want It)."
Thematically, the lyrics are diametrically opposed to "Five Score and Seven Years Ago," the band's last album proper. While the former album is fully of bouncy love songs to Thiessen's then-girlfriend, "Forget..." speaks almost exclusively of dealing with that relationship's aftermath. However, Thiessen manages to walk this oft-tread upon ground without relying on cliches, refusing to fall completely into the "so over it" or the "woe is me" categories. Rather, the wistful music complements the wistful lyrics, surveying a relationship with an end that was painful (and not entirely forgotten) but also probably for the best.
This lyrical maturity is still complemented by Thiessen's trademark clever rhyming, and no song ever dips even close to the repetitiveness and poor quality that plagued recent songs like "Give Until There's Nothing Left" or "I Just Want You To Know." Thiessen seems to be saying that he wants to keep growing lyrically while retaining the aspects of his songwriting that have always worked.
In fact, that seems to be one of the messages of the album as a whole. While some classic Relient k sounds are certainly retained, the band seems to be putting their greater independence (they are now signed with and partially manage Gotee's indie music imprint, Mono vs. Stereo) to good use.
In short: Relient k has definitely exceeded my expectations. While "Forget and Not Slow Down" might not be quite as good as "Mmhmm," it sure comes close.
The first and most obvious feature is yet another genre switch. The powerpop of their last two albums is all but gone, replaced by some throwback punk-lite (most reminiscent of the band's third album "Two Lefts Don't Make a Right ... But Three Do"), some full-blown rock and even a sizable helping of folk-rock.
The first and title track kicks things off with some classic-if-forgettable Relient k sounds, but it sets the tone for the remainder of the album: this is a melancholy, yet hopeful, reflection on Thiessen's breakup with his girlfriend. While this is borne out in the lyrics (more on those later), the band crafts the musical framework to reflect the subject matter, and many songs have a rather wistful feel to them. The title track is followed by "I Don't Need a Soul," "Candlelight," "Therapy" and "Part of It." The placement of all of the songs seems good, a tribute to the band's ability to seamlessly transition between songs of drastically different genres. Much of the transition is aided by a musical device new to Relient k: song outros, specifically "Flare" (after "Candlelight") and "Outro" (after "Part of It").
"Forget..." as an album is an exercise in buildup, and the second half ups the ante, starting with the melodic "Over It." Then comes the fantastic combination of the rocking "Sahara" and the mellow "Savannah," bridged by the interlude "Oasis" and closed by the odd "Baby." It's rare to hear musical interludes used as well as they are here, and it ends up being one of the album's strongest points. After the "Saharah"/"Savannah" combo comes the power ballad "If You Believe Me" and the climactic closer "This is the End," followed by the piano-laden "(If You Want It)" another outro (but only kind of. It's actually about as long as the song it closes).
Musically, it's the most cohesive the band has ever been. There may not be as many "moments" as there are on their fourth (and best) album, "Mmhmm," but "Forget..." is consistently enjoyable throughout, and the genre-switching combined with the continuous flow makes for a lasting musical impression. It's also nice to see a departure from the electronic sounds that marked parts of their last two releases. While they were often used to good effect, the more natural sound of this record (which, the band reports, only used "real instruments") is a refreshing change.
"Forget..." doesn't disappoint lyrically, either. It's hands down the best written thing the band has released since "Mmhmm," and while it may not as often reach the heights of tracks like "When I Go Down" or "Life After Death and Taxes," some of Thiessen's best writing is here, from the melancholy "I Don't Need a Soul" to the playful "Candlelight" to the poignant "(If You Want It)."
Thematically, the lyrics are diametrically opposed to "Five Score and Seven Years Ago," the band's last album proper. While the former album is fully of bouncy love songs to Thiessen's then-girlfriend, "Forget..." speaks almost exclusively of dealing with that relationship's aftermath. However, Thiessen manages to walk this oft-tread upon ground without relying on cliches, refusing to fall completely into the "so over it" or the "woe is me" categories. Rather, the wistful music complements the wistful lyrics, surveying a relationship with an end that was painful (and not entirely forgotten) but also probably for the best.
This lyrical maturity is still complemented by Thiessen's trademark clever rhyming, and no song ever dips even close to the repetitiveness and poor quality that plagued recent songs like "Give Until There's Nothing Left" or "I Just Want You To Know." Thiessen seems to be saying that he wants to keep growing lyrically while retaining the aspects of his songwriting that have always worked.
In fact, that seems to be one of the messages of the album as a whole. While some classic Relient k sounds are certainly retained, the band seems to be putting their greater independence (they are now signed with and partially manage Gotee's indie music imprint, Mono vs. Stereo) to good use.
In short: Relient k has definitely exceeded my expectations. While "Forget and Not Slow Down" might not be quite as good as "Mmhmm," it sure comes close.
Monday, October 5, 2009
"The Invention of Lying" is both funny and flat
Imagine a world in which no one ever lies. Not only do they never lie, but they have no concept what a "lie" is. It reminds one of the eyeless Aunt Beast from "A Wrinkle in Time." If someone has never seen, how can he understand what seeing is? So it is with the denizens of "The Invention of Lying's" version of Earth: they have no word for truth because, for them, the truth truly is self-evident. There are no lies, no polite untruths, no deceptions, no fiction and, as an unintended consequence, little politeness, as complete honesty also means utter frankness. It is an altogether more depressing, if less confusing, place to live in.
It is a very depressing place indeed for Mark Bellison (Ricky Gervais, who also wrote and directed the film), a scriptwriter at Lecture Films, a film company that only produces historical scripts read by professional readers because fiction is unheard of and it would not be truthful to have actors play the parts of the historical characters (not that the characters recognize this. They just never have thought otherwise). Mark is rather overweight and ugly, which ruins his date with Anna (Jennifer Garner), who likes him but would never want to procreate with him because his genes would not make for attractive kids. He is also stuck with the unenviable job of writing scripts for the 14th century at work. Since no one wants to see a lecture film about The Black Plague, he is soon fired, but not before his secretary and one of his coworkers give him a brutally honest appraisal of their feelings towards him.
Things are certainly looking down for Mark, until he goes to the bank and the teller asks him how much money he has in his bank account (he planned to withdraw the entire amount, as he was about to get evicted from his apartment). While he only has $300, he discovers that he can tell the teller that he has $800 dollars. Since she has known from birth that everything that anyone ever tells her is correct, she simply assumes that there is a computer error and gives him the money.
Mark is thunderstruck. He has an incredible new ability, one that he doesn't even have a word to describe. His friends don't even understand what he's trying to explain to them, which leads to an amusing scene in which he tells them increasingly outrageous lies about himself which they believe without question or even much surprise.
When he realizes that he can lie with complete impunity, he immediately sets out to benefit himself as much as possible. This takes up the majority of the movie, and it never gets boring, thanks to the cast's ability to play their honest innocence completely straight and Gervais' nearly flawless comedic timing. Indeed, after seeing him in this movie and last year's criminally unappreciated "Ghost Town," I'd say that he joins fellow "Office"-terrible-boss-actor Steve Carell on the very top of the heap of modern comedic actors. The majority of the film plays like a long, brilliant Monty Python sketch, with the actors and their surroundings (including buildings, advertisements and even epitaphs) never missing a beat in their odd little world. The film even touches on philosophical points like our basic need for self-deception and the little white lies that each of us tell every day, all the while recognizing that in the end, the comedy is what's most important.
Until, that is, about halfway through the film, when Mark's mother is on her deathbed.
You see, it turns out that there is no religion in the land of truth, and Mark's mum is terrified of "an eternity of nothingness." Mark is heartbroken, and to comfort his mother in her final moments, he tells her that death is not the end and that after she dies she will go to a happy place where she will be with all of the people she loved. Unfortunately for Mark, his mother's doctors hear his fib, and the world soon waits at his doorstep, eager to hear from him about his afterlife revelation. What follows is a long scene in which Gervais, a lifelong atheist, makes up a story about "the man in the sky" and in so doing takes shot after shot after shot at any and all religions, all but abandoning the cleverness and subtlety that made the film's outrageous moments shine all the more.
After the aforementioned scene, the film regains some of its comic footing, but every now and then Gervais feels the need to take another cheap shot at a God that he doesn't believe in. To call it a satire or an argument against religion is laughable, as even moderately intelligent people should realize that all Gervais is doing is setting up straw men that he can immediately knock down. At times, it almost seems like Gervais is angry at God for supposed injustices but hasn't taken the time to figure out who this God really is or why He does the things that he does.
Even here, the film can be funny, although to laugh at some of these jokes will make most religious people a bit uncomfortable, and even the non-religious should be able to see past Gervais' rather sophomoric and vindictive gibes. But perhaps the most disappointing thing is to see such a poorly thought-out "message" shoehorned into what is otherwise one of the funniest movies I've seen in a long time (and one that is still worth viewing, if you are willing to sit through the heavy-handed moments).
Gervais is essentially preaching to the choir here. Anyone but the most staunch of atheists should be able to see that his "man in the sky" nonsense is not an accurate or even satirical look into the way Christians or anyone else thinks. In fact, the chillingly sad death scene of Mark's mother seems like a far better window into the mind of an atheist than any view of the religious that the film purports to offer. After all, if we are truly all that there is, what is there to hope for?
It is a very depressing place indeed for Mark Bellison (Ricky Gervais, who also wrote and directed the film), a scriptwriter at Lecture Films, a film company that only produces historical scripts read by professional readers because fiction is unheard of and it would not be truthful to have actors play the parts of the historical characters (not that the characters recognize this. They just never have thought otherwise). Mark is rather overweight and ugly, which ruins his date with Anna (Jennifer Garner), who likes him but would never want to procreate with him because his genes would not make for attractive kids. He is also stuck with the unenviable job of writing scripts for the 14th century at work. Since no one wants to see a lecture film about The Black Plague, he is soon fired, but not before his secretary and one of his coworkers give him a brutally honest appraisal of their feelings towards him.
Things are certainly looking down for Mark, until he goes to the bank and the teller asks him how much money he has in his bank account (he planned to withdraw the entire amount, as he was about to get evicted from his apartment). While he only has $300, he discovers that he can tell the teller that he has $800 dollars. Since she has known from birth that everything that anyone ever tells her is correct, she simply assumes that there is a computer error and gives him the money.
Mark is thunderstruck. He has an incredible new ability, one that he doesn't even have a word to describe. His friends don't even understand what he's trying to explain to them, which leads to an amusing scene in which he tells them increasingly outrageous lies about himself which they believe without question or even much surprise.
When he realizes that he can lie with complete impunity, he immediately sets out to benefit himself as much as possible. This takes up the majority of the movie, and it never gets boring, thanks to the cast's ability to play their honest innocence completely straight and Gervais' nearly flawless comedic timing. Indeed, after seeing him in this movie and last year's criminally unappreciated "Ghost Town," I'd say that he joins fellow "Office"-terrible-boss-actor Steve Carell on the very top of the heap of modern comedic actors. The majority of the film plays like a long, brilliant Monty Python sketch, with the actors and their surroundings (including buildings, advertisements and even epitaphs) never missing a beat in their odd little world. The film even touches on philosophical points like our basic need for self-deception and the little white lies that each of us tell every day, all the while recognizing that in the end, the comedy is what's most important.
Until, that is, about halfway through the film, when Mark's mother is on her deathbed.
You see, it turns out that there is no religion in the land of truth, and Mark's mum is terrified of "an eternity of nothingness." Mark is heartbroken, and to comfort his mother in her final moments, he tells her that death is not the end and that after she dies she will go to a happy place where she will be with all of the people she loved. Unfortunately for Mark, his mother's doctors hear his fib, and the world soon waits at his doorstep, eager to hear from him about his afterlife revelation. What follows is a long scene in which Gervais, a lifelong atheist, makes up a story about "the man in the sky" and in so doing takes shot after shot after shot at any and all religions, all but abandoning the cleverness and subtlety that made the film's outrageous moments shine all the more.
After the aforementioned scene, the film regains some of its comic footing, but every now and then Gervais feels the need to take another cheap shot at a God that he doesn't believe in. To call it a satire or an argument against religion is laughable, as even moderately intelligent people should realize that all Gervais is doing is setting up straw men that he can immediately knock down. At times, it almost seems like Gervais is angry at God for supposed injustices but hasn't taken the time to figure out who this God really is or why He does the things that he does.
Even here, the film can be funny, although to laugh at some of these jokes will make most religious people a bit uncomfortable, and even the non-religious should be able to see past Gervais' rather sophomoric and vindictive gibes. But perhaps the most disappointing thing is to see such a poorly thought-out "message" shoehorned into what is otherwise one of the funniest movies I've seen in a long time (and one that is still worth viewing, if you are willing to sit through the heavy-handed moments).
Gervais is essentially preaching to the choir here. Anyone but the most staunch of atheists should be able to see that his "man in the sky" nonsense is not an accurate or even satirical look into the way Christians or anyone else thinks. In fact, the chillingly sad death scene of Mark's mother seems like a far better window into the mind of an atheist than any view of the religious that the film purports to offer. After all, if we are truly all that there is, what is there to hope for?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
