10/10/2004
[Note: This is my 50th blog entry, and nearly marks the one-year anniversary of my first post, which was also my first piece of music criticism. Ironically, my first review was one of two Pitchfork screeds, the second of which helped secure a staff position at the site. It's more than a little ironic that I've already started my own 'Fork conspiracy (and bollocks to you if you aren't head over heels in love with The Arcade Fire! You have no heart!).
I'll pontificate further in my year-end music and film (remember film?) writing, which I promise will be seriously totally boss, and quite thorough. I expect to post a series of essays that will undoubtedly be, as the ol' dad is wont to say, deep on the surface but superficial underneath. I'd also like to thank my wonderful muse (not Ian, sorry) for encouraging me to start writing in the first place...although visiting you means I'm going to miss out on all of the killer parties during CMJ week in the city. Such is love, such is life. Such is rambling, so on with the post.]
THE BEST
Panda Bear – Young Prayer (Paw Tracks, 2004)
One of the great feats of Animal Collective’s remarkable Sung Tongs is its ability to channel a convincing approximation of the unbridled joy of childhood into challenging folk/rock experimentalism. But this solo release from Noah Lennox, a.k.a Panda Bear, puts the duo’s aesthetic in perspective: Young Prayer, devised as a mournful tribute to Lennox’s deceased father, lacks the kind of outward playfulness that relieves Animal Collective’s experimental bent, and is more immediately affecting for its directness. The album is constructed almost entirely from Lennox’s pinched melodic wail and abstract acoustic guitar accompaniment, evocatively expressing the haunted memories of a tortured soul. Each of the album’s untitled tracks is a moving free-form expression of pain that finds a precise and powerful honesty beneath densely textured music. Lennox's soundscapes always feel spare and intimate despite their complex, intricate composition and construction. Most songs come across as a distillation of tracks like “The Softest Voice” from Sung Tongs, effectively conveying the distant heartache of Lennox’s personal tragedy. Young Prayer is another stunning release from one of this year’s most challenging and rewarding experimentalists.
Other Best: Boredoms - Seadrum/House of Sun; Yuka Honda - Eucademix; Hot Snakes – Audit in Progress; Isis – Panopticon; William Shatner – Has Been
THE WORST
Travis Morrison – Travistan (Barsuk, 2004)
Travistan, Dismemberment Plan front man Travis Morrison’s solo debut, is an album so misguided and unpleasant that I can’t help but want to praise it as the most perversely fascinating disappointment of the year. The album seems to fall in line with the plethora of pop albums tapping into an almost primitive recognition of juvenile comforts, in language (both musical and lyrical) so jarring and hysterical that it begs to be annihilated by the very community that will most likely seek out the album. But that’s also what makes this release so compelling—Morrison has removed himself from his former D-Plan material so virulently that his statement achieves a Metal Machine Music level of audience alienation. Unlike Lou Reed, however, Morrison has usually maintained an amiable relationship with his fans, making his bluntness here all the more perplexing.
The four “Get Me Off This Coin” installments are microcosms of the album’s more spectacular errors in judgment. “Coin A” opens the album with a striking regression of lyrical and musical prowess. The song’s simple guitar arrangement borders on grating twee, and Morrison’s bizarre summation of Abraham Lincoln’s life accomplishments demonstrates a grasp of history about as fickle and uninformed as a grade-schooler. In general, his blatantly preposterous lyrics (check out “Moses could be a bitch with a capital B,” “I’m Caucasian, yes it’s true/I’m white, and proud, too,” “People die/It’s the facts/There I said it now you can relax,” etc. etc. etc.) are dumbfounding, especially given the thoughtful poetry that distinguished Dismemberment Plan’s best work. But there’s a disturbing element underlying Morrison’s countless lyrical gaffes; there appears to be some weirdly primal assertion of profound ignorance here that must be intentional—and, in a sense, makes these songs unforgettable when they might have settled for mediocrity.
The album’s pitfalls are so obvious, in fact, that it’s incredibly difficult (if possible at all) to gauge Morrison’s intent. He isn’t trying to destroy his career—and even if he was, the resulting trainwreck will most likely long retain a relatively high level of cult celebrity longevity. But Morrison isn’t establishing a new “sound,” either: he couldn’t possibly hope to ever again replicate the borderline atonal mess that constitutes the chorus to “Change”; the bastardization of an inspired climax (seemingly ripped from Change’s “Following Through”) in “My Two Front Teeth, Pt. II and III” with the insertion of a cloying Christmas song into a powerful musical moment; or the inexplicably awkward social/political commentary of “The Word Cop”, “Coin C”, and “Born in ‘72”. The album, starkly unpleasant though it may be, is damn interesting. If Morrison recovers from the imminent fallout of Travistan’s reception among his fan base, his next release will hopefully put this catastrophe in some discernible context.
Other Worst: VHS or Beta – Night On Fire; Radio 4 – Stealing of a Nation
THE REST:
Tom Waits’ Real Gone (Anti) is surprisingly hit-or-miss, beginning with one of the most abrasive tracks he’s ever released, the grimy, hip-hop-inflected “Top of the Hill”. The high points tend to reference Mule Variation-era Waits, but many of the album’s songs—particularly on the first half of the album—are unpolished and generally bizarre, even for Waits. Still need a few listens on this one.
Ursula 1000’s Ursadelica (ESL) is a sprawling lounge/electronica mash-up collection (Ursula 1000 chose and mixed the selections, but technically this is an ESL compilation) that manages to sustain its high level of kitschy energy for 20 tracks. Equal parts “bachelor pad,” bubblegum electronica, and low-key dance music, the album makes for a great party mix, but is otherwise pleasantly forgettable.
Currently listening to: William Basinski – Disintegration Loops; Cee-Lo Green – Cee-Lo Green is the Soul Machine; Comets on Fire – Cathedral; Dungen – Da Tet Lugnt; Futureheads - The Futureheads; Hank – How to Prosper in the Coming Bad Years
Recent Pitchfork Reviews: Interpol - Antics; Various Artists - The Late, Great Daniel Johnston; Kimya Dawson - Hidden Vagenda; Saturday Looks Good to Me - Every Night
0 comments
I'll pontificate further in my year-end music and film (remember film?) writing, which I promise will be seriously totally boss, and quite thorough. I expect to post a series of essays that will undoubtedly be, as the ol' dad is wont to say, deep on the surface but superficial underneath. I'd also like to thank my wonderful muse (not Ian, sorry) for encouraging me to start writing in the first place...although visiting you means I'm going to miss out on all of the killer parties during CMJ week in the city. Such is love, such is life. Such is rambling, so on with the post.]
THE BEST
Panda Bear – Young Prayer (Paw Tracks, 2004)
One of the great feats of Animal Collective’s remarkable Sung Tongs is its ability to channel a convincing approximation of the unbridled joy of childhood into challenging folk/rock experimentalism. But this solo release from Noah Lennox, a.k.a Panda Bear, puts the duo’s aesthetic in perspective: Young Prayer, devised as a mournful tribute to Lennox’s deceased father, lacks the kind of outward playfulness that relieves Animal Collective’s experimental bent, and is more immediately affecting for its directness. The album is constructed almost entirely from Lennox’s pinched melodic wail and abstract acoustic guitar accompaniment, evocatively expressing the haunted memories of a tortured soul. Each of the album’s untitled tracks is a moving free-form expression of pain that finds a precise and powerful honesty beneath densely textured music. Lennox's soundscapes always feel spare and intimate despite their complex, intricate composition and construction. Most songs come across as a distillation of tracks like “The Softest Voice” from Sung Tongs, effectively conveying the distant heartache of Lennox’s personal tragedy. Young Prayer is another stunning release from one of this year’s most challenging and rewarding experimentalists.
Other Best: Boredoms - Seadrum/House of Sun; Yuka Honda - Eucademix; Hot Snakes – Audit in Progress; Isis – Panopticon; William Shatner – Has Been
THE WORST
Travis Morrison – Travistan (Barsuk, 2004)
Travistan, Dismemberment Plan front man Travis Morrison’s solo debut, is an album so misguided and unpleasant that I can’t help but want to praise it as the most perversely fascinating disappointment of the year. The album seems to fall in line with the plethora of pop albums tapping into an almost primitive recognition of juvenile comforts, in language (both musical and lyrical) so jarring and hysterical that it begs to be annihilated by the very community that will most likely seek out the album. But that’s also what makes this release so compelling—Morrison has removed himself from his former D-Plan material so virulently that his statement achieves a Metal Machine Music level of audience alienation. Unlike Lou Reed, however, Morrison has usually maintained an amiable relationship with his fans, making his bluntness here all the more perplexing.
The four “Get Me Off This Coin” installments are microcosms of the album’s more spectacular errors in judgment. “Coin A” opens the album with a striking regression of lyrical and musical prowess. The song’s simple guitar arrangement borders on grating twee, and Morrison’s bizarre summation of Abraham Lincoln’s life accomplishments demonstrates a grasp of history about as fickle and uninformed as a grade-schooler. In general, his blatantly preposterous lyrics (check out “Moses could be a bitch with a capital B,” “I’m Caucasian, yes it’s true/I’m white, and proud, too,” “People die/It’s the facts/There I said it now you can relax,” etc. etc. etc.) are dumbfounding, especially given the thoughtful poetry that distinguished Dismemberment Plan’s best work. But there’s a disturbing element underlying Morrison’s countless lyrical gaffes; there appears to be some weirdly primal assertion of profound ignorance here that must be intentional—and, in a sense, makes these songs unforgettable when they might have settled for mediocrity.
The album’s pitfalls are so obvious, in fact, that it’s incredibly difficult (if possible at all) to gauge Morrison’s intent. He isn’t trying to destroy his career—and even if he was, the resulting trainwreck will most likely long retain a relatively high level of cult celebrity longevity. But Morrison isn’t establishing a new “sound,” either: he couldn’t possibly hope to ever again replicate the borderline atonal mess that constitutes the chorus to “Change”; the bastardization of an inspired climax (seemingly ripped from Change’s “Following Through”) in “My Two Front Teeth, Pt. II and III” with the insertion of a cloying Christmas song into a powerful musical moment; or the inexplicably awkward social/political commentary of “The Word Cop”, “Coin C”, and “Born in ‘72”. The album, starkly unpleasant though it may be, is damn interesting. If Morrison recovers from the imminent fallout of Travistan’s reception among his fan base, his next release will hopefully put this catastrophe in some discernible context.
Other Worst: VHS or Beta – Night On Fire; Radio 4 – Stealing of a Nation
THE REST:
Tom Waits’ Real Gone (Anti) is surprisingly hit-or-miss, beginning with one of the most abrasive tracks he’s ever released, the grimy, hip-hop-inflected “Top of the Hill”. The high points tend to reference Mule Variation-era Waits, but many of the album’s songs—particularly on the first half of the album—are unpolished and generally bizarre, even for Waits. Still need a few listens on this one.
Ursula 1000’s Ursadelica (ESL) is a sprawling lounge/electronica mash-up collection (Ursula 1000 chose and mixed the selections, but technically this is an ESL compilation) that manages to sustain its high level of kitschy energy for 20 tracks. Equal parts “bachelor pad,” bubblegum electronica, and low-key dance music, the album makes for a great party mix, but is otherwise pleasantly forgettable.
Currently listening to: William Basinski – Disintegration Loops; Cee-Lo Green – Cee-Lo Green is the Soul Machine; Comets on Fire – Cathedral; Dungen – Da Tet Lugnt; Futureheads - The Futureheads; Hank – How to Prosper in the Coming Bad Years
Recent Pitchfork Reviews: Interpol - Antics; Various Artists - The Late, Great Daniel Johnston; Kimya Dawson - Hidden Vagenda; Saturday Looks Good to Me - Every Night
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