Wednesday, March 2, 2011

The Streets: Computers and Blues

Originally published by PopMatters on February 8, 2011


If Mike Skinner is sick of the Streets, what are the rest of us supposed to make of his purported final album under the moniker? Computers and Blues isn’t always the send-off we might have hoped we’d receive, but that might at least partially lie in our own lofty expectations. He’s been hit and miss in the past, but as a whole, Skinner has been a constant reminder that top quality hip-hop isn’t the sole domain of the United States.


The constant comparisons to Eminem must get tiresome, because for most fans of the Streets, Skinner’s innate ability to tap into the malaise of Average Joes is far more successful than Marshall Mathers’ own efforts in the same genre. That’s not meant to put the backgrounds of the two under the microscope for some attempt at gauging street cred, because honestly, who gives a shit? But while Eminem’s music often seeks to elevate the mundane, the Streets revel in the ordinary world. Eminem, though, is a massive star the world over, while Skinner’s fame is largely relegated to the United Kingdom. He’s always had an uphill struggle in the colonies, where his dense Mockney affectations evoke comparisons to Dick Van Dyke’s chimneysweep in Mary Poppins, only with way more f-bombs.


Skinner is at his best when his music treads the line between comfort and cacophony, a notion proven when the virtually unlistenable “Roof of Your Car” veers from one narrow extreme to the other, then back again. It’s the combination that’s the key, as best exemplified by “Without Thinking” and “Puzzled by People”, both of which offset Skinner’s laconic delivery and everyman lyrics with hooks and beats guaranteed to latch on to your subconscious and stay there for a while.


Computers and Blues includes multiple collaborations with Rob Harvey, former frontman of the most unwisely-named band in the search engine era, the Music. That’s Harvey’s Geddy Lee-lite on the dreary “Soldiers”, on which even Skinner sounds bored by the whole affair. For a more successful collaboration, look no further than the album’s terrific closing number, “Lock the Locks”, on which Skinner is joined on the reflective chorus by singer-songwriter Clare Maguire.


But more often than not, Skinner’s on top of his game. “Trying to Kill M.E.” is a grand string-and-piano laden epic about addiction, while “Trust Me” comes off like a sunshiny rollerskating jam.


It’s understandable why Skinner would want to bid farewell to the Streets. Despite at least half ofComputers and Blues sounding as vital and important as the best of the Streets, it’s just as vital to know when to let go. The lyrics are still dynamic, the music sharp. But Skinner himself, whether through his muted pre-hype or his often disinterested (even by his standards) performance, sometimes seems as though he already had one foot out the door.


If Computers and Blues is meant to wrap a dynamic five-album cycle, perhaps one need look no further than the cover art. On the acclaimed debut by the Streets, Original Pirate Material, the music is represented by a bleak London tower block. By Computers and Blues, the protagonist is seen through the window of a red-lit condominium; it’s not a palace by any means, but is probably a step in the right direction.


The Streets had run its course, and presumably Skinner will move on to bigger and better things, possibly involving aviation or shipping. Oddly, Skinner recorded more music as the Streets after completing Computers and Blues, though the Cyberspace and Reds mixtape was actually released two weeks prior to the final album proper. Skinner said he wanted the Streets to bow with a bang, claiming on his own Beat Stevie online show that the final Streets album would be “dark and futuristic”, and inspired by a synthesizer exhibition he’d seen in Austria. It’s not unreasonable to assume he’s generally hit the mark with Computers and Blues, a heavy collection of songs with the inimitable Skinner sense of style and substance.


7 out of 10

The Vagrants: I Can't Make a Friend 1965-1968

Originally published by PopMatters on February 1, 2011


Virtually every ‘60s band not called The Beatles has been given some claim to the “blueprint of punk” mantle. In the case of the Vagrants, the generally tired cliché actually has some basis in fact.

The Vagrants formed at Forest Hills High School in Queens during the mid-‘60s, leaving an imprint on friends and fellow students Johnny and Tommy Ramone, who, a decade later, would turn the influence on its ear in The Ramones.

Though they played most of the happening clubs in and around New York City at the time, opened for the likes of the Who, the Doors, and the Rascals, and saw their guitarist, Leslie West, go on to form Mountain in the early ‘70s, the Vagrants still fly under the radar. An appearance on the original Nuggetscompilation in 1972 (their storming cover of Otis Redding’s “Respect,” which failed to gain traction when released around the same time as Aretha Franklin’s own take) solidified their credibility but did little to cast the gaze of the public at large their way.

Outside of a 1986 Arista release which cobbled together the band’s singles and some rare sessions, The Vagrants never actually released an album. They progressed like other bands from year to year, but they did so through the single. That history has finally been given its proper due with I Can’t Make a Friend 1965-1968, a new compilation by Light in the Attic Records. The Vagrants are presented here in all their ramshackle glory, a collection if A & B sides that, even when occasionally swerving into fairly garden variety garage rock, still maintains a vibrancy that makes this an absolutely essential release.

The set opens in 1965 with “Oh Those Eyes”, a seemingly standard garage shuffle with a dark sneer thanks to Jerry Storch’s lead vocal and organ stabs. “You’re Too Young” is a more than serviceable b-side with a minor debt to Phil Spector by drummer Roger Mansour. As the songs move into 1966, an air of sophistication creeps in, a welcome addition as it arrives without forcing out the band’s natural energy. “The Final Hour” has elements of what was happening in Los Angeles at the time, while “Respect” might as well be the bridge between The Sonics and Vanilla Fudge.

Producer Felix Pappalardi came into the picture midway through 1967, expanding the band’s sonic reach on the “Beside the Sea” single, on which Storch’s organ sounds like a death ray from War of the Worlds, West’s guitar solo only adding to the sense of distress in Peter Sabatino’s vocals.“And When It’s Over”, the last recorded song on the compilation, sees West’s guitar stepping even more into the spotlight, perhaps signaling what was to come in Mountain.

The album is worth seeking out on vinyl or CD, as the liner notes by Mike Stax (of Ugly Things Magazine) are the perfect accompaniment to the wild story of the Vagrants.

8 out of 10

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Happy Birthday, Legs McNeil

Originally published by PopMatters on January 27, 2011

Beyond the punk hype, the seminal Please Kill Me and other distinctly unique published works. Beyond the erudite caricature and inside track on the New York City underbelly, Legs McNeil is a friend.

Today is Legs MeNeil’s… well, it doesn’t really matter how old Legs is, because he’s perpetually however you want to think of him. In his character makeup is still the teenage hoodlum who co-founded Punk; the inquisitive rapscallion who turned a love of true crime and titillation into The Other Hollywood, an exploration of the two. He’s an historian, an elder statesman, a chain-smoking television celebrity and an absolute fucking riot. Today is Legs McNeil’s birthday, and if you’ve ever spent even one minute of your life flipping through one of his book at random and marveling at what you’ve found, you’ll raise a glass of whatever your particular fancy is and send him your kindest, filthiest regards. And go pick up a copy of Please Kill Me, and maybe a t-shirt or something from his website, www.pleasekillme.com. You’ll feel much cooler if you do.
 
I met Legs through my father, and he quickly became something of a mentor to me. I was in college at the time, playing drums in a band and generally living my life like a cliché. Legs came to a gig in the East Village, took me aside and pointed out where various sordid acts of punk rock depravity once happened in the dark corners of the venue. My hero.

Legs gave me my first paid writing gig in the early ‘90s, reviewing records for the short-lived Nerve Magazine. He was more than a mentor, letting me crash in his room at the Gershwin Hotel the night of the Please Kill Me book release party, making sure our cups of Earl Grey tea were always filled no matter where we happened to run into one another.

I spent a year living in Legs’ guest room in North Hollywood maybe a decade ago, transcribing interviews with porn stars, eating a lot of Indian and Mexican food, watching Simpsons re-runs and hitting yard sales. Going into any greater detail than that would almost certainly be a violation of omertà, that I never reveal what I might have seen or heard. He said it with a laugh, and I laughed too. But I also love and respect Legs McNeil enough that unless he specifically asked me to dish dirt, I’m keeping it clean and lean.

We drifted apart for a while, at least partly because I was young and impetuous and felt the need to uproot myself at the drop of a hat. We’ve reconnected, though, and while we’re no longer cracking jokes in a tiny room while he guns down German infantrymen in a World War II video game like we used to, he’s still ever present in my life. I learned a lot from seeing Legs’ work ethic, his attention to detail and his insistence one getting the facts straight. It’s a philosophy I’ve adopted in my own life as a writer, and I think of him even when we haven’t actually caught up maybe for months.

Happy Birthday, Legs.

Trish Keenan (Broadcast), R.I.P.

Originally published by PopMatters on January 14, 2011

The news yesterday that neo-psychedelic chanteuse Trish Keenan, founding member of Broadcast, had been hospitalized for pneumonia was troubling, but it might not have seemed nearly serious enough. According to a press release from Warp Records, Keenan died in the hospital on Friday morning.

It is with great sadness we announce that Trish Keenan from Broadcast passed away at 9am this morning in hospital. She died from complications with pneumonia after battling the illness for two weeks in intensive care.

Our thoughts go out to James, Martin, her friends and her family and we request that the public respect their wishes for privacy at this time.
This is an untimely tragic loss and we will miss Trish dearly—a unique voice, an extraordinary talent and a beautiful human being. Rest in Peace. - Warp Records
 
For fans of Stereolab and the United States of America, Broadcast’s ascension in the late ‘90s was like a gift from outer space. Combining a spy film aesthetic, swathes of electronic drone, found sounds and the delicately glorious vocals of Keenan, the band quickly established itself as a favorite among indie nerds like myself.

Though their last album proper was released in 2005 (Tender Buttons), the band was still an active concern, releasing singles, compilations and playing live. Most recently, Broadcast collaborated with the Focus Group on a celebrated mini-album (2009’s Broadcast and the Focus Group Investigate Witch Cults of the Radio Age) as well as touring extensively. Broadcast performed at the Matt Groening-curated All Tomorrow’s Parties festival in Minehead, Somerset, England in May 2010 and had just returned from a tour of Australia in December.

Keenan leaves behind a legacy of deceptively complex music with Broadcast, a journey worth undertaking to find the simple beauty of her voice and the music’s inherently approachable harmonies buried under a wonderful mix of soothing psychedelia.

Coachella 2011 - The Setup

Originally published by PopMatters on January 19, 2011

Weeks of wondering, of lollygagging around the dark recesses and official enclaves of the music-lovin’ world wild web ended in a heartbeat late Tuesday night with the official for real honest to gosh Coachella 2011 lineup announcement. In a flash, all the anticipation and faith in whatever rumors best suited one’s own particular hopes and dreams began the overwhelming task of trying to immediately process actual information.


As it has been pretty much with each of the past several chapters in the Coachella annals, the immediate response generally fell into one of three areas…


- Aw YEAH! COACHELLA GOT (ARTIST I LOVE)!
- Whatever. I was going no matter what.
- Worst. Coachella. Ever.

The headliners, from Friday to Sunday: Kings of Leon, Arcade Fire, Kanye West. The Strokes are also on Sunday’s top line, so maybe they’re co-headlining. Or maybe they’ll team with Kanye in some unholy mash-up like that cruddy Converse ad Julian Casablancas got roped into a few years ago. Or maybe…


The “maybes” are few and far between now, though they certainly exist, especially with memories of Prince’s 2008 set that wasn’t even announced until weeks after the first draft of the lineup dropped. This year’s pleasegoldenvoiceletusreceivemoremoreMORE acts will probably come in the form of everyone from Daft Punk to the Rolling Stones, but truth be told, there’s a lot to be stoked about with what we’ve already got.


Yes, Kings of Leon appear to be something of a controversial choice among the discerning Coachella faithful, but there’s certainly no denying they’ve steered their careers successfully into the festival headlining domain. Arcade Fire has also followed a similar trajectory, though they’ve done so with fewer accusations of having “sold out.” As for Kanye West, like him or not (and I emphatically like him quite a lot), at the very least it’ll be worth sticking around to see if he flouts the community’s midnight noise ordinance.


The undercard is also pretty rock solid, which is also how the “Worst. Coachella. Ever.” crowd eventually finds themselves making peace with going to the festival anyway.


Some of the highlights to keep an eye on…


- Ms. Lauryn Hill and Erykah Badu each released two of the finest solo debuts of the past 20 years: Who will out-enigmatic the other?


- Will Ana Matronic stick around after her set with Scissor Sisters on Saturday to perform her sweet vocals from “Safe (In the Heat of the Moment)” with Duran Duran on Sunday?


- Will Death From Above 1979 remember why they broke up in the first place and kick each other’s asses mid-set?


- Will Elbow take their relatively small font size on the poster as a challenge and leave everyone within earshot absolutely breathless?


- Will Cee Lo Green remember the words to “Fuck You”?


The waiting is over. Well, the waiting for the lineup. Now, the nearly three months of waiting for Coachella to actually happen can truly begin.

Coachella 2011 - The Preamble

Originally published by PopMatters on January 17, 2011

In preparation for my first assignment covering the Coachella Music and Arts Festival for PopMatters, I’ve done a bit of marginal research to occupy my time before learning definitively who it is I’ll be seeing when mid-April brings me and tens of thousands of my best pals to the Empire Polo Fields in Indio, California.

What I mean when I say I’ve done some research is that I’ve actually just gone to the most obsessive internet sources: Blogs, message boards, etc…

Coachella ordinarily drops its lineup some time during the second half of January, but that doesn’t stop bloggers from stirring the pot, fans from going nuts and genuine insiders, presumably, shaking their heads.
 
Coachella fans - at least the ones who spend a reasonable portion of their day hollering about the festival online - are a passionate sort. They take both music and the Coachella Festival incredibly seriously. And as such, they’ve been going positively apeshit over the past few weeks as anticipation builds toward the announcement of the official artist lineup.

On Thursday, that anticipation reached a fever pitch, with the official Coachella website and message board both going offline intermittently during the afternoon, perhaps exploding from the sheer volume of page reloads from the exasperated masses. For a while, the primary site simply said: “It works!”

The feeding frenzy continued elsewhere, including the blog of an unknown alleged insider who calls herself Monklish. Since late 2008, Monklish has helped fuel the fire by positing about artists who might appear at Coachella well in advance of the official lineup announcement. Where she gets her information, she won’t say. Whether she’s actually a “she” is even the subject of considerable debate. But she’s got a captive audience comprised of people who both love and loathe her in equal measures, and that’s at least good for a few bucks from Google ads.
Which brings us to now. Monklish posted an update on Wednesday called “Home Stretch” with the following artists…

!!!
Animal Collective
Arcade Fire
Atlas Sound
Beastie Boys
Best Coast
Black Dub
Black Joe Lewis & the Honeybears
Blonde Redhead
Bomba Estéreo
Bright Eyes
Brodinski
Broken Social Scene
Cage the Elephant
Caifanes
Chromeo
Cold War Kids
Crystal Castles
Cults
Cut Copy
Daedelus
Daft Punk
Delorean
DJ Shadow
Duran Duran
Empire of the Sun
Erick Morillo and Friends
Fat Freddy’s Drop
Fleet Foxes
Foals
Foster The People
Four Tet
Free Energy
GAYNGS
Glassjaw
Godspeed You Black Emperor
Gogol Bordello
Green Velvet
Groove Armada
Health
Hello Seahorse
Henry Clay People
High Contrast
How to Dress Well
Interpol
It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Jack Beats
Kings of Leon
Klaxons
Magnetic Man
Mariachi El Bronx
Marina and the Diamonds
Mary Anne Hobbs
MEN
Menomena
Mew
Neil Young
Neon Indian
Nosaj Thing
PJ Harvey
Queens of the Stone Age
Robyn
Rural Alberta Advantage
Rusko
Sasha
Sven Väth
Tame Impala
The Black Keys
The Chemical Brothers
The Delta Spirit
The Drums
The Morning Benders
The Pains of Being Pure at Heart
The Strokes
The Twelves
Titus Andronicus
Tom Tom Club
Trentemøller
Twin Shadow
Warpaint
Wire
Yacht
Zola Jesus

Another website, coachellaleaks.com, dropped a poster on January 11, though a Goldenvoice representative said they haven’t even made a lineup poster yet, so who knows?

In the comments on the Monklish blog as well as on the official Coachella forum, two acts are receiving the lion’s share of the most passionate responses. Those artists: Daft Punk and Kings of Leon.

French electronic duo Daft Punk last played Coachella in 2006, a set that has been described as “epic” on the official forum at least a billion times since. Though naysayers have frequently pointed out that as their Tron: Legacy album was merely a soundtrack, a Coachella appearance wouldn’t make much sense.

Kings of Leon, on the other hand, are apparently this year’s sign that Coachella is no longer cool. It’s an annual rite of passage that in recent years has been filled by everyone from the Killers to Jack Johnson, and if you don’t belive me all you need to do is look in the comments section under Monklish’s latest blog entry.

The following anonymous comments appeared on Thursday afternoon with 11 minutes between them…

“Kings of Leon will be great for those of us who want to leave early and not feel like we missed something.”

“The kings of leon are the worst headliner ever.”

That’s obviously open to debate, though it’s clear the worst thing that could have happened to the Followill clan was to become insanely rich and successful. Few bands can survive such a blow to their cool as to have a hit record.

It’s worth noting that fake posters and other internet rumors have included everyone from the Rolling Stones to David Bowie to a Talking Heads reunion, and none of them will be true unless they are. And with the exception of a few artists here and there who let the news leak on their own, none of this will be known until Coachella makes the official announcement…or until Monklish says so…or until the local media leaks it…or until…

Wire: Red Barked Tree

Originally published by PopMatters on January 11, 2011

Perhaps we’ve been taking them for granted all this time. Maybe Wire’s first few albums were just so good that they made it impossible for us to appreciate the often terrific material they’ve released sporadically during the subsequent decades. They could have just slunk away in the dead of night, leaving us with 1977-79, and their place in history would have been safe and sound. But Wire were always, at least in part, about contrariness. They were crisp and clean and rigidly experimental in an era when punk was more than often not any of those things. And so in 2011, Wire is here to personally remind us not only that they used to be great, but that they’re still capable of great things.

If your favorite Wire music is the jagged quick-snap guitar of their classic debut album, Pink Flag, “Now Was” and the appropriately-titled “Two Minutes” should be right up your alley. Both songs depart as suddenly as they arrive, with the latter delving into drone rock territory with a terrifically twisted spoken-word vocal line. Fans of the band’s forays into contemplative dream-pop should be thrilled with “Adapt” and “Down to This,” each awash in the gentle sway of a feeling you may have long forgotten, building toward something that may never come again.

At times, Red Barked Tree doesn’t feel like it was even recorded in the 21st century, the whiff of a dog-eared copy of the Trouser Press Record Guide faint in its guitars and grooves. Even Colin Newman’s snotty yelp echoes from across the divide of decades, refusing to be softened by age or experience. But because early Wire sounds positively contemporary and necessary in the modern age, the clear line between then and now makes perfect sense. Even when you might want to be embarrassed by earnestly rendered lines like “The absolute of vodka kings” (“Bad Worn Thing”) or the clumsy f-bombs scattered throughout pockets of the entire set, the sound is so clearly Wire, it’s easy to give them a pass.

Selecting a standout track is no easy feat when there’s so much to sink one’s teeth into. “Smash” is a swirling cloud of prickly guitar noise and perfect pop melody, while album opener “Please Take” is so fraught with purpose in its delivery, you may find yourself wondering what it must be like to have all that anger and disappointment focused on you. Over 11 tracks of fantastically unapproachable guitars and vocals, of deceivingly simple rhythms and unswerving purpose, Wire sound perfectly comfortable in their own skin and sense of history on Red Barked Tree.

8 out of 10