Uncle Tupelo – “Chickamauga” video (50MB Windows Media) live in 1994. We’ll leave it up until we run out of bandwidth. Thanks to JHamm for encoding.
The Hives Make a Beautiful Mess
The Hives with Sahara Hotnights at Metro
July 27, 2004, Chicago
By unanimous decision, the crowd at the packed Metro made Hives frontman Howlin’ Pelle Almqvist an honorary Chicagoan. We gave the Hives the key to the city. Well, Almqvist demanded it from us, and how could we say no? When the Hives tell you to cheer for them, you’ve got no choice but to give it up.
The Letters of Gary Benchley, Rock Star: The First Rehearsal
Gary Benchley, Rock Star: The First Rehearsal with his yet-to-be-named band.
Nedelle & Thom – In Time It Snows
Black Keys – The Lengths
“The Lengths” by Black Keys off Rubber Factory. Via Punknews.
RJD2 – Since We Last Spoke
RJD2 – Since We Last Spoke (Definitive Jux)
In the distant universe of the Musician, our group of super-heroes has two primary arch-enemies: Ambition and Expectation. These two foes attack our beloved protagonist by placing an incredible weight upon his or her shoulders, a Vulcan death grip, if you will. Only the strongest emerge victorious, and those who do not survive find themselves in Follow-Up Hell. We’ve seen it happen before to far too many promising prospects, with the media glaring down and fans anticipating bigger, faster, stronger; artists feel the need to do to much and more often then not wind up in pretty deep shit.
It seemed as if RJD2 had the tools to ward off these menacing creatures—Deadringer displayed a technique and tone that set the hip-hop world on its ear (forget about the DJ Shadow references, please). Since We Last Spoke is a different album entirely. Gone are the gray, vinyl-cracking-between-the-notes samples and ankle-snapping tempo changes that made Deadringer so heralded. This is hardly even a hip-hop album—most of the tones and techniques employed within Since We Last Spoke reach for synthy sounds and IDM ideologies instead of tried-and-true scratching and spitting (records and rhymes, that is—not balls and saliva). Despite the fact that RJ’s moody and ambient leanings were mated perfectly within the confines of Deadringer‘s jazzy blue-notes, RJ uses far more unusual styles this time around. “Making Days Longer” is his most radical turn, and also his most successful. The song is unlike anything you could ever imagine coming from the man, featuring delicately placed blips and Postal Service-esque bells behind a straightforward vocal—this is something that belongs on Warp Records, not Def Jux’s hip-hop-hooray catalogue. The closest you get to Deadringer‘s foggy flow comes in the album’s second-half, where RJ continues to shun conventional beats but settles into a beautifully pained groove.
RJ’s sense of melody and rhythm, part of the reason the underground embraced Mr. Krohn like they did, is like no other. He hasn’t instantaneously given up those skills, and his texturing processes match Deadringer‘s. The difference with Since is the decision making of what sounds to use, and an effort to take on as much as possible within the album’s twelve tracks. This bravery is refreshing, especially considering the success rate of most artists who try complete stylistic makeovers. RJ finds his own magic tucked in genres and styles neglected by the rest of the world.
While it’s hard not to be disappointed by Since We Last Spoke at first, listen to it more and you’ll find an solid and inventive work from someone not willing to be pigeonholed in a certain class. The ethereal crooning and well-layered sound comes from a heartbroken first-person point-of-view. Much like Prefuse 73’s amazing One Word Extinguisher, Since We Last Spoke is a breakup album. And with the appearance of RJ as a capable singer, his point comes across much clearer. “Making Days Longer” laments over lonliness: “It’s nice to hear you say ‘Hello’ / And ‘How are things with you’ / But pretty soon it’s time to go / An office job to do / And I’ll be writing songs for you.”
It may not be obvious at first, but Since We Last Spoke is as well-rounded and creative a record as you’re going to find this year. Copywrite’s plea of “RJD2 drop that shit so I can drop my thoughts” may go unanswered this time around, but in the process RJ has crafted a love letter to all music—not just the celebrated. By unearthing a beauty in forms never thought to have contained any, RJD2 has crafted his own diamond in the rough.
MP3Blogs Aggregator
MP3Blogs Aggregator gathers feeds from several mp3 blogs.
Notes on the Viability of Imitation
I once attended a corporation-sponsored reception in Hollywood. As “entertainment” there were people who make their living—or at least part of it—through a physical- and costume-based resemblance to dead people. In this case, Marilyn Monroe, Lucille Ball, and Humphrey Bogart. The breathiness of Monroe, the zaniness of Lucy, and the ill-fitting-dentures-curtness of Bogey are all clues that we identify vis-à-vis the individuals’ personae. (I wonder what someone not familiar with Ball or Bogart would make of these versions; Marilyn is simply a universal: even if who she “is” isn’t recognized, what she is is evident.) During their “act” at the reception, they were not performing specific roles or scenes that are associated with the people whom they were imitating, nor were they even playing scripted roles. Instead, they borrowed distinctive cues that served as the basis of their imitations.
Make Believe – Make Believe
Make Believe – Self-Titled EP (Flameshovel)
Since the early 90s, a certain sect of music lovers have been trying to figure out just where the hell Tim Kinsella has been going with his musical endeavors. All the while, Kinsella has happily confounded them all, reveling in his own weirdness and making undeniable stabs of pretense. People either love everything he does with reckless abandon or hate is so badly that it makes them want to stab themselves in the ears just thinking about his crooning, pre-pubescent whelp of a voice.
That voice is everywhere on Make Believe, sliding, babbling, and careening dangerously at times over the off-kilter time signatures that makes up this 5-song EP from Kinsella’s latest project. The closest thing to a “straightforward band” setup that Kinsella has been involved in for some time, Make Believe consists of a simple guitar/bass/drums approach, with a few injections of Hammond organ here and there. The first track, “We’re All Going To Die,” should surprise any listener who expected any sort of comparison to Tim’s other main project, Joan Of Arc. Avant-garde rock noise springs forth for just an instant before he begins screaming over the spastic guitar work of long-time Kinsella-collaborator Sam Zurick – and it’s apparent from Kinsella’s screechings that spending nearly a decade in the tweaked-out, artsy Joan Of Arc hasn’t drained him of the hyperactive, spluttering vocal style that made Cap’n Jazz distinctly endearing to many ears. Neither has he lost his wit or his ability to say whatever comes to him, but the surprise is that he may actually now be saying something that’s worth hearing.
“All the heavy metal songs are good when they say never surrender,” Kinsella playfully pokes, but then continues in his diatribe on the current state of music with: “All the hip hop hits are good when they say say my name / All the patriotic country hits are good when they say be patriotic / Because patriotism is critical.” Wait – hold on – those were some pretty straightforward lyrics. What, no clever word trickery or nursery-rhyme homoerotic imagery? Kinsella has reinvented himself through regression. His vocals on Make Believe call to mind his earlier musical endeavors, but his lyrics are a far cry from anything he’s done before. The trick: he’s making observations.
Kinsella shows no signs of letting up in his attack on major rock bands, declaring that: “If the radio is any kind of indication then I guess all they got is God and sports in Bakersfield / And of course who am I to know, but it seems they got neither of their own,” an obvious stab at the Bakersfield-born nu-metal/jock rock sound. And yet, Kinsella still has to throw in one last self-deprecating yet simultaneously “better-than-you” line with “And baby, you know I’m no athlete, but I’ve got a way with God.”
There are even “heart-goes-out” observations about third-world sweatshops and the desensitization of Americans: “Thanks to whoever made my shoes here / Wherever you may be now / I bet you think about killing yourself all the time.” And then, apologetically: “I was just born into my assumptions / A simple understanding of violence and central air’s seduction.”
The combination of Nate Kinsella (Tim’s cousin) on drums, Bobby Burg (Love Of Everything) on bass, and Zurick’s techy, noodling guitar style does little more than serve as a vessel for Tim Kinsella’s voice, which works as an instrument in and of itself. Zurick manages some impressive guitar playing, but brandishes few tricks that he didn’t use while playing in Ghosts & Vodka, while Burg and Nate seem to be more keeping up with Zurick and Kinsella’s freak-outs. The bottom line: Make Believe would be incredibly uninteresting without Tim Kinsella. With him, they serve of up the most intriguing music he’s been a part of outside of playing with Cap’n Jazz, both in their original form and as Owls. Moreover, as it was with those groups, it is Kinsella who packs the punch – and it will be Kinsella who will make or break the disc for a listener. Each of his projects has always carried the weight of trying to be different than his others, but Make Believe seems to throw that weight off and let its difference speak loudly, albeit in a voice that most people can’t stand the sound of.
Daedelus – Of Snowdonia
Daedelus – Of Snowdonia (Plug Research)
I’m not sure if anyone’s noticed it yet, but electronic music has become almost as regurgitated and boring as rock music currently is. It’s far too easy for kids with enough money to buy the necessary tools to replicate some of the pioneers of the genre, and it’s led to a barrage of substandard releases that people still consider great. I’m sorry, but if I hear another “brilliant ambient” record that’s 50 minutes of droning noise, I might spontaneously combust. Fennesz, I’m looking at you.
Luckily, a breath of icy fresh air arrives in Daedelus’ Of Snowdonia. A challenging and off-putting record at first, Snowdonia is a slow-grower—not an addictive record like some of his peers may release, but a collection of musical scraps that eventually forms a cohesive and dreamy whole.
Daedelus is the epitome of the adage about one man’s trash being another’s treasure. Simple samples are put together in mass quantity, creating a shockingly beautiful result. What’s shocking is that these samples, on their own, are virtually nothing—and so distinct from each other (IDM blends seamlessly with folk and jazz for the most part) that most of the modern crop of average DJ’s wouldn’t be able to conceive even one track with these materials if they had to, let alone an entire album.
Unfortunately, like his previous releases, the album lacks a certain knock-out element, and for that I’m afraid Daedelus might never receive any major recognition. This flaw keeps him steadily entrenched in the second tier, below the more hip-hop oriented Prefuse 73 and Rjd2 or electronic Air. But I guess the battles are won in the trenches, and Of Snowdonia is a minor victory. I’m still waiting for Daedelus to put it all together, but in the meantime Of Snowdonia makes enough noise to warrant attention.
Daedelus mp3s available via Epitonic.