Year-End Festivities 2009: an introduction

Well, here I am again, attempting to share what mattered most to me in the past year. And again, I'm struggling to recall those things. I alternately love and hate our current musical climate. I'm very glad that music is so readily accessible, but the availability has led to inundation. Now, we hear artists' music long before it was intended (I understand that a lot of this is determined by record companies intentionally staggering release dates), before we have adequate time to process what came before. It's difficult to turn down the latest album leak -- I'm prone to leap at the chance to hear an album before the release date, certainly. However, I feel that it's been immensely detrimental to how I value music, and how I absorb music. Writing about music has physically and emotionally drained me this past year. It's something that I've loved for a long time, but I'm not sure how long I can continue (please stick with me... if i ever "retire" this blog, I'll post a formal missive of some sort).
Enough of this sentimental nonsense... on to some year-end business. I don't really feel like writing about each of the 25 releases in my list, so I'll highlight a few favorites in the days to come.

News: Steve Reich

I love Steve Reich. Not only is he one of the most venerable (deservedly so) living composers, but he just seems so unassuming. I don't know him, but his demeanor and dress belie his intellect and musical brilliance. Aside from the perfectly detailed lyrics of Matt Berninger, the instrumental contributions of the National are some of the most compelling in rock music today. Delicate, intricate guitar work, polyrhythmic experimentation, unique chord progressions...I can't wait to hear this piece.

On Repeat: Lia Ices

Immediately after hearing "Cymbal, Trumpet and Bell" on the Esopus #13: Nostradamus comp, the versatile alto of Lia Ices (she refuses to disclose her birth name) became one of my favorite contemporary female voices. Her debut, 2008's Necima, features piano-led arrangements augmented with strings, clarinet, and occasional guitar supplementing an alternately frail and supple voice. Some immediate reference points are the Jon Brion-produced version of Fiona Apple's Extraordinary Machine, the smoky, sultry feel of latter-day Cat Power, and the frigid (pun not intended), confident vocal timbre of My Brightest Diamond's Shara Worden.

While those three are all known for histrionics in their own right, Ices' formal theatre training is evident in her choice of arrangements, familiar (but altogether welcome) chord progressions, and unforgettable vocal melodies. My only real complaint with the album is her over-reliance on a few said progressions, but Necima is a solid record no less. The subtle inflectional details of the gorgeous closer "You Will" recall Joanna Newsom's unique delivery (compare the way both articulate "to", "skin", and "ground") applied to an old jazz standard (the way she sings "Waiting for you..." gives me chills every time) -- it might sound like a completely incongruous combination, but it's one that definitely works. The simple, understated video fits the song's mood perfectly, as well. Hopefully we'll hear more from her in the future.

Record Review: Eno, Moebius & Roedelius

Eno, Moebius & Roedelius
After the Heat
[Sky, 1978; Bureau B, 2009]
3/5

The second collaboration between Brian Eno and Cluster (here credited as constituents Hans Joachim Roedelius and Dieter Moebius) arrived only a year after the trio’s first collaboration, Cluster & Eno. By the time of their first meeting, Eno had released his first proper ambient album, Discreet Music, as well as a handful of pioneering pop records. Cluster had steadily moved away from the free-form ambient style marking their debut, Cluster ’71, to the slowly shifting, pulsating krautrock on landmark releases Zuckerzeit and Musik Von Harmonia (with Neu!’s Michael Rother). After hearing these releases, Brian Eno was eager to collaborate with Moebius and Roedelius.
Continue reading at Tiny Mixtapes.

Buy it

On Repeat: People Under the Stairs

LA hip-hop duo People Under the Stairs make fun music, plain and simple. Fun DMC is an homage to lazy Saturday afternoons, a collection of songs that celebrate idyllic times with friends. Listening to standout song "Gamin' on ya" never fails to put me in a good mood (perhaps it's due to my own long-lost affinity for video games). For me, video games were more often than not a solitary activity -- I would spend hours on end playing Zelda games on my N64. However, I did spend some quality time with my sister and close friends playing Goldeneye and Super Smash Brothers .
Anyway...
The rhymes are tight (consisting almost entirely of old-school video game references), but the production on this track is what always makes me come back for another listen. Built around a Galaga sample (that's honestly the only one I recognize) and a simple but propulsive and effective beat, not only does the track reflect the song's subject manner, but it also accentuates the communal feel and playfully competitive spirit of emcees Double K and Thes One. Listen, have a good time, and share your own video game reminiscences and/or sample identifications in the comments!

On Repeat: Bedhead

I'm not sure how the search began, but I discovered Bedhead after spending a bit of time in the Tiny Mixtapes review archive. The now defunct slowcore act lives on today in the form of The New Year, but Bedhead's tragically under-recognized Transaction de Novo is an album definitely worth revisiting, or getting acquainted with if you're unfamiliar. Anyway, though there are many great songs on the record, "Lepidoptera" stands out as the clear highlight.



As much as I love "Lepidoptera," it's been bothering me quite a bit lately. The typical hallmarks of a Bedhead song are here -- contrapuntal guitar and bass lines, an andante tempo, and Matt Kadane's mumbled, reticent vocals. The drums metronomically count out the 3/4 time signature as soft guitars chime two-note intervals in the background. Kadane quietly details a still room at night, lit only by "what [little] moonlight there is." At about a minute in, though, the drums disappear completely, a moth flutters through the open window with its delicate "blown-glass wings" and lights on a darkened lightbulb. The sumptuous, clean guitar strums hang in the air gracefully. We hear the sound of wings pushing against the constraints of a chrysalis in the beginning, the first hesitant wing-beats relishing freedom, but then hear the narrator reveal that he can't move or speak. Whether this is from awe of the beauty or some sort of literal paralysis is uncertain. The subtle dissonances in the final measures suggest the latter, but the revelation that "[his] guardian angel has finally arrived," paired with the major resolution, lend the entire song hope and positivity, as if seeing this graceful moth reminds him of what life was (or would be) like free of confinement.

The delicate guitar interplay against Kadane's soft, hesitant vocals is so arresting that I typically play the track about three or four times in a row. "Lepidoptera"'s chord voicings are very atypical and advanced by indie-rock standards -- simply put, this is a refreshing, exciting song. The very brief track time is appropriate given the ephemeral nature of an insect's life, and maybe it's even a comment on human mortality (or maybe I'm looking into this far too much), but I really wish that it lasted at least a minute longer, as the chord progression that starts to unfold in the final measures hints at a continuation of the breathtaking beauty that preceded it. Please listen to this song, and let me know what you think! Then go buy this album. I'm glad I did.

Revisited: Why?

Not enough time has elapsed to say that I truly "revisited" Alopecia, since I haven't really stopped listening to the album since first hearing it a little over a year ago. However, the good folks over at In Review Online decided to publish a Discographer feature on the Berkeley-by-way-of-Cincinnati band to coincide with the release of their latest, Eskimo Snow, and asked me to contribute my thoughts on my favorite Why? album. As Alopecia was one of my favorites from 2008, I was happy to oblige. Check out the rest of the feature Here.

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Lifting lyrics from cLOUDDEAD’s “3 Twenty,” “The Vowels pt. 2” opens Alopecia with one last look to the past. The album marks the last Why? album containing any vestige of hip hop, and sees the band progressing further into pop territory, prescient of the complete submersion that would mark the subsequent Eskimo Snow. The album’s titular disease reflects the dark humor in Why?’s music; it’s nothing more than a fairly common problem of hair loss, but to lead singer/songwriter Yoni Wolf, the gradual depletion of his follicles is a looming reminder of his mortality.

With its carefully balanced amalgam of hip-hop, folk and pop music, Alopecia is the definitive statement of Yoni Wolf’s career thus far. Keyboards range from the guttural piano rumble opening the record to the staccato organ marking “These Few Presidents.” Josiah Wolf’s percussive prowess finally makes its way to the foreground, with rapid xylophone parts and the most intricate drumming yet to be heard on a Why? record. Rather than jarring juxtaposition, Why?’s blend of hip-hop influenced vocal and rhythms with an indie-rock band setup proves to be the most musically interesting incarnation of the group.

Of course, words are the most important part of any Why? record, and Alopecia finds Wolf’s lyricism at its most direct and exposed. His confessions are unflinchingly candid, sincere, and uncompromisingly honest. He never gives the impression that his uncomfortably intimate details are intended for shock value, but rather for a necessary catharsis. While his cadence often incorporates hip-hop delivery, it’s his clever wordplay that reflects his past in “art rap” and evinces his history with Anticon.

Further, Wolf’s fixation on mortality has never been displayed with this much eloquence, wit or confidence. Unease from a constant fear of death leads him to ruminate on religion for the majority of the album. He’s best when most subversive, and utilizes liturgical imagery and tradition to expose his doubt in the sovereignty and/or existence of a higher power (“Torpedo or Crone’s” and “The Fall of Mr. Fifths” betray a more-than-superficial familiarity with American Protestant tradition, surprising given the considerable references to a Jewish upbringing in his work). When he intones, “Devoid of all hope,” on the despairing “Good Friday,” you believe it.

Add to that the fact that “A Sky for Shoeing Horses Under” is referenced on this year’s Eskimo Snow, and this all might come to indicate that Wolf won’t ever fully close the doors on his past. If that’s the case, it’s unfortunate for his mental health, but great for listeners craving honest, innovative and consistently rewarding songwriting. It’s Wolf’s writing, after all, that makes Alopecia not only Why?’s best record, but one of 2008’s best and most intriguing listens.