There's a shitload of excellent garage rockers out there right now, paying homage not only to the 60s icons but also to the 80s revivalists. I've already touched on the populist side of the movement with Cage the Elephant; Ty Segall resides on the opposite -- and by any account more faithful -- end of the garage punk spectrum: he's lo-fi and proud of it.
Ty Segall began his music career as a one man band. Seriously. Like, he'd play the high-hat with his fist and kind of whack the guitar strings whenever possible during the verses, then switch to guitar with hi-hat foot pedal keeping the beat during the choruses. It's way more successful than I've just made it sound. Take a gander at this. Pretty cool, huh? His arrangements kept getting more and more ambitious, however, and soon he was forced to branch out with a three-piece band. They kick major fucking ass live, and in the best garage rock tradition steal from just about everyone (five rock god points to whoever spots the Pearl Jam reference):
Songs like this make me unaccountably happy. Not a hint of virtuosity anywhere. Guitar, bass, and drums lines so easy a novice could play them. Hell even I could play them. But there's something about this sort of straight ahead and strictly for the love of it rock'n'roll that gets my heart pumping. The energy is infectious. Go Ty, go.
Randy Newman
Album: Sail Away
Song 1: Sail Away
Song 2: God's Song
Randy Newman belongs on my short list of great songwriters, although over the last couple of decades or so he has rarely received the respect he deserves in this regard. Unfortunately, he has inherited a reputation, albeit not an entirely unfair one, for being "that movie guy." He has been nominated for the "Best Song" or "Best Score" Oscars 17 times, winning once. Interestingly, he had the longest streak of nominations without a win in Oscar history until his 2002 win for a song from Monsters, Inc. Some of his most recognizable songs are "You've Got A Friend In Me" from Toy Story and the gorgeous "When She Loved Me" from Toy Story 2. Back in the day, however, he was much more than just a composer of film scores. Back in the day, he was considered a great artist with a particularly incisive understanding of the human condition.
Two of my favorite Newman songs are "Sail Away" and "God's Song," both of which are from his brilliant 1972 album, Sail Away. Perspective plays an important role in both of them. In the first, Newman tells the story of a slave trader...from the perspective of the slave trader. And if that isn't a cool enough conceit, the slave trader in the song is a type of salesman, attempting to pitch the merits of being a slave to prospective slaves. Funny, tragic, sarcastic, ironic, it's one of the best songs I know.
"God's Song" is also from an interesting perspective. Namely, God's. In it, God mocks humankind for the ridiculousness of its faith in him. Lovely little ironic twist. Newman at his best.
I was gonna blog about something light and frivolous, but I happened to stumble across a stunning live performance of "Harper Lewis" by Russian Circles, a band I have often admired for its virtuosity and relatively unconventional style. Their sound runs the gamut from intricate and delicate to heavy and muscular. Comparisons might be made with Tool, and indeed Russian Circles toured with the band in 2007.
The live track is intense but the bass is very low in the mix and the sound quality deteriorates about a third of the way through due to distortion. I really dig the drum sound -- the "unsnared" snare in particular -- which provides surprising depth to the tonal palette. Still, the studio version is excellent too.
Charles Ives
Album: Charles Ives
Song: The Unanswered Question
You live on a peaceful Greek island. You are retired. You spend your days gardening, reading the paper, perhaps going for coffee with friends. In the evening, your only desire is to sit and listen to the radio. Your neighbor, however, a young woman with a taste for loud music, plays her CDs at full volume every evening, without exception. You ask her nicely to turn down her stereo, but she is unswayed. You complain; she ignores you. You request police intervention, but they claim that her behavior is completely legal. The noise continues; if anything worsens. Driven to sheer mindless rage by this constant barrage on your senses, you pick up your shotgun, knock on her door, and when she answers fire three shots into her chest, killing her instantly.
Being both the father of two energetic boys and a band teacher, I can attest to the fact that an hour or two of relative silence goes a long way in keeping me sane. "The Unanswered Question," by the great American composer Charles Ives, expresses the stillness that in my opinion lies at the heart of all things.
In terms of musical content, the trumpet repeatedly poses the "question" throughout the piece, while the flute quartet attempts to answer the question, increasingly stridently, and in vain. Meanwhile, the strings express a type of formless timelessness. A gorgeous piece of music.
EDIT: Inasmuch as I wrote this late last night as I was falling asleep, a few words of clarification are necessary. The "Greek Island Guy" story is true. A man literally driven insane by noise. I happened upon this story in my current reading: George Michelsen Foy, The Quest For Absolute Silence. Interesting book. Also, it was not my intention to devote much, if any, time to classical music in this blog, but it's easier to write about what I happen to be listening to, rather than listen to something that I happen to want to write about.
I slagged the Melvins recently, suggesting that their best days are behind them. Sleep is the band the Melvins aspire to be. In vain. Natch.
Damn I dig that opening riff. Makes me want to pick up my bass and jam along with the band. And the tune is just sooooo fucking heavy. As heavy as Sabbath. Hell, if Sleep had Ozzy on vocals they might have ruled the 90s' music scene. But more than just being heavy, there is a surprising suppleness to it all. It's...what...groovy?
Sleep's sound has been crazy influential amongst the stoner rock set. In fact, many of the best recent stoner rock bands -- Weedeater, Atomic Bitchwax, Alabama Thunderpussy, Kyuss, QOTSA, Acid King -- cite Sleep as an important influence.
Oh yeah. One last thing. I've been told by reliable sources that "Dragonaut" is the perfect tune to mellow out to. Just sayin'.
Daniel Johnston
Album: 1990
Song: Don't Play Cards With Satan
Can you imagine what it's like to live with severe bipolar disorder?
It's estimated that upwards of 20% of Canadians will suffer from a mood disorder of one type or another at some point in their lives, and that 7% of Canadians will suffer from bipolar disorder in particular. Bipolar takes many forms. Type 1, by far the most common, is characterized by vast, debilitating mood swing cycles. Type 2, which occurs in only 1 out of 20 bipolar cases, is far more serious, and often features delusions of grandeur, hallucinations, and worse. The people that you might have read about, walking down the center of a busy highway claiming to be Jesus incarnate -- these are your Type 2 bipolar sufferers. Daniel Johnston is Type 2 bipolar.
This preamble is meant to provide you with a way of engaging Johnston's music, which, as far as acquired tastes go, is right at the bitterest end. Somewhere between black coffee and chewing on lime rinds. But if you manage to get past the sheer child-like weirdness of his songs, there is something quite wonderful in his ability to connect emotionally with his subject and with the listener.
This has become a running theme, hasn't it?
I purchased one of Johnston's CDs a few years ago. Listened to it once. Put it away. Didn't think much about it, at least musically. Idiosyncratic but almost unlistenably amateurish. Became re-invigorated by Johnston the man when I happened to watch the excellent documentary based on his life, The Devil And Daniel Johnston. A fascinating tale. On and off his meds, in and out of mental hospitals, slowly becoming something of a cult icon in the alternative musical world, and finally emerging relatively healthy on the other side.
There is something of the savant in Johnston, and what appeals to me most of all is this juxtaposition of childlike innocencewith a nagging sense that he has tapped into something quite profound.
By the way, do me a favor and don't turn off the following video after the first minute. Take the time to listen to the entire song.
Refused
Album: The Shape Of Punk To Come
Song: Refused Are Fucking Dead
So I'm sitting here listening to last.fm and playing WoW with Tyler and Kris. Determined to write about the next tune that hits the speaker. Dave Brubeck, "Take Five". Excellent. But I've done so much jazz and soul recently. Okay, next song. Still waiting. Electric fan blowing, in Tyler's terms, our "man scent" into the bright summer afternoon. Kris nom-noming the Nibs like a starving man attacking a steak. The great thing about "Take Five" apart from the obvious cool melody and 2+2+2+3 rhythm, is the little musical journey on which Bruback takes his listener. Classical here, bebop there, big band all over, all cool. Hmmmm. New song. Refused, "Refused Are Fucking Dead". Okie-doke.
Immediate impressions of the song: System of a Down-esque rhythmic guitar hooks. Bass not quite as present. Not as defined, musically, as System of a Down. Main guitar hook is uninspired. Bridge boring as hell. Bass boring as hell. Octave guitar and bass near end meant to provide sense of growth? Not good. Production a bit heavy handed. Random electronic blurps a sad attempt at hipster cool. Or a sad attempt to be creative? Bombastic end section. Typical growled mock-yelled vocals. Yech.
Okay so that sucked. But if you want to listen to it, here it is:
I dunno if that tune is typical for Refused, which was a big part of the 90s hardcore/punk scene, but if so then perhaps the band just ain't all that interesting. At least musically. Having done a little online reading, however, I can tell you that they certainly had interesting ideas. Their final message to their fans, to the press, and to the corporate musical establishment can be read here. Did you know that Refused wasn't really a band, but rather an attempt to destroy mainstream music altogether? Yeah, me neither. Their manifesto reads to me like the worst sort of high-minded but tragically middle-brow nonsense: on the one hand begging for philosophical legitimacy (Baudrillard my ass) while on the other hand claiming to speak on behalf of the oppressed. If that ain't the bourgeois calling the bourgeois bourgeois, I don't know what is.
Having said that, and having forced myself to read Refused's manifesto for a second time, it must be noted that their motives are good. I mean, most of us go through a period of philosophical introspection in which we believe that we have seen deeper into the reality of existence than any other sentient being. Ever. In the immortal words of Vizzini from The Princess Bride: "Ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates? Morons." So I guess I should cut them some slack.
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