Heartache With Hard Work

James Dean Bradfield is the lead guitarist and vocalist for what is almost certainly my favorite Welsh band: The Manic Street Preachers. He’s also the producer of the best song of the millennium: Johnny Boy’s You Are the Generation That Bought More Shoes and You Get What You Deserve. So he’s got the pedigree.

With the Manics on a brief hiatus after some studio time on their new album, Bradfield released his debut solo album The Great Western yesterday in the UK (and in a couple days in the US). Unfortunately, I don’t live in the UK, so I haven’t been able to hear the whole thing, but what I have heard, I’ve enjoyed a lot.

If you’re familiar with the Manics, you know what to expect: some bruising songs, a bit of the socialist ethic, and a few tender moments. Still, there are differences. It has a poppier feel, is a little bit more melodic and a little less “manic,” and includes more of what Bradfield describes as his “guilty pleasures.” In particular he has referenced the feel of some of his favorite music from the 70s: “murky, it felt like it had been dug out of the ground…something of the earth about it” which he was hoping to replicate. You can sense a lot of it on the first single:

That’s No Way to Tell a Lie

It has a killer guitar intro, a few “sha la las,” and the obligatory handclaps–residing almost perfectly in the halfway point between the Manic Street Preachers and Johnny Boy. The lyrics deal with his frustration at way organized religion (and the Pope in particular) has facilitated the spread of AIDS in Africa.

An English Gentleman

A tribute to Philip Hall, the late publicist for the Manics. His heart is clear on his sleeve, and the build-up from the light acoustic intro to the full-fledged backing chorus by the end is well done.

For more info on the album, an excellent podcast is available from The Q Review, which includes portions of a few songs, and a fascinating interview with Bradfield. It’s also got a new single from Feeder (remember them?) at the end.

Also, this week’s Contrast Podcast is available, with the theme “Who,” including my first contribution. Appropriately enough, given my subject for today, it’s “The Girl Who Wanted to Be God” by the Manic Street Preachers, from Everything Must Go.

And, if you’re enjoying the JDB and Manics songs and haven’t been to The Runout Groove this month, you absolutely must go. They’ve been going through the entire Manics discography in some rather intense detail.

Intro
Part 1: The First Three Singles
Part 2: Generation Terrorists

Forgot to post on this over the weekend, but there’s an interesting New York Times article on Golden Smog from last week, and they have 4 new MP3s available (presumably for a limited time). I recommend reading the article, but if you’re too lazy for that, here are the tunes:

You Make It Easy
Another Fine Day
Long Time Ago
Corvette

My favortie of the four is “Corvette” but they’re all good. In fact, the more I listen to the whole album, the more I enjoy it. And if you missed it from last weekend, my short post on them with one more song.

Blogger is not being friendly today, so let’s hope this gets through.

I Just realized that today is the six-month anniversary of the blog. Seems like it went by a lot quicker than that. I’ve really enjoyed doing it, and it’s been a great way to force myself to keep exploring new music. Though it is sometimes discouraging to read other blogs which consistently find new, great music every single day, and have interesting things to say, and I can’t really find the time or inspiration to do that.

But I guess that’s the great thing about music blogging–there’s a place for I Guess I’m Floating, I Am Fuel, You Are Friends, and Shake Your Fist–but there’s also a place for those of us who may not have quite as much to contribute, but still hopefully have some interesting things to say and music to share.

Speaking of “not all that cutting-edge,” I recently came across another one of those lists that’s always floating around. This one: The 111 Wussiest Songs of All Time. It’s silly, sure, but it’s a moderately interesting premise. As is always the case, there are some real head-scratchers. “Shiny Happy People” as the wussiest song of all-time? “Friday I’m in Love?” “Daydream Believer?” These songs are certainly not barrom-brawlers, but there’s too much genuine emotion going on here to really sound “wussy” to me. And “Walking on Sunshine” shouldn’t be anywhere close to the list. Since when is gloriously happy pop equivalent to “wussy?” This song also gets bonus points for its prominent role on Futurama (perhaps my favorite TV show of all-time).

Another song that doesn’t really belong is “Crash.” Now, I’m not (and have never really been) that much of a Dave Matthews fan, but Crash is the one album of his I still really enjoy, and I find the title song to be often misunderstood. It sure sounds a little wussy, but the weird voyeurism surely belies that. I mean: “Hike up your skirt a little more / And show the world to me” followed closely by “I watch you there through the window and I stare at you / You wear nothing but you wear it so well / Tied up and twisted the way I’d like to be”–if this was anyone but Dave Matthews, there’s no way they could’ve gotten away with it.

And don’t even get me started about them putting Dancing in the Dark on there!

That said, there are many songs that certainly deserve their inclusion. The song they had at #12 would almost certainly be my #1: “I Want it That Way” by the Backstreet Boys. Just reading the name of the song inspires a cringe. “I Just Called to Say I Love You” at 64, Barry Manilow, Savage Garden, Journey, Dashboard Confessional, The Carpenters, Neil Diamond, Creed. All the usual suspects are here. Let’s face facts: Creed could fill the top 10 all by themselves. I also approve of the Iron and Wine cover of “Such Great Heights” at 20. As much as I love the original, am I the only one who finds the cover to be lifeless and pathetic?

The song that most perfectly combines wussiness with still being among my favorites places fairly well: Bryan Adams and Everything I Do (I Do It For You) clocks in at #55. Plus, everyone has to love him for providing fodder to make fun of Ryan Adams.

Alright, enough about this. I promise some new and interesting stuff tomorrow.

MP3s:
Dancing in the Dark – Bruce Springsteen
Everything I Do (I Do It For You) – Bryan Adams

Some Decemberists news today. Pitchfork had an update on Friday with a whole new set of tour dates (including a Halloween show in Northampton that I’m hoping to get to), and news about the new album The Crane Wife, due out on October 3. Talk about prolific. When was the last year that Colin Meloy and company didn’t have a new album? Their homepage has more information:

This lovely would’ve-been-a-double-in-the-seventies-record (which tip-toes over the temporal finish line at just over 60 min.!) will hit the shelves (and e-shelves) of discriminating record stores (and e-stores) promptly on October the 3rd. … The band will be doling out bits and parcels of information regarding this record over the coming months as a way to soothe and placate you, the salacious music enthusiast.

I’ll be looking forward to it. Even what I consider their weakest effort last year was still among my favorite records of the year. Plus, one of the songs is a duet with Laura Veirs, and you all know how I love her.

And, here’s a couple of my favorite old Decemberists songs:

Grace Cathedral Hill

My absolute favorite song by them. While I’ve enjoyed the directions they’ve gone and their willingness to experiment on their more recent albums, a big part of me wishes they would just re-make Castaways and Cutouts over and over and over. As the stories have become more involved, as the instrumentation has become more complex, the one thing I sometimes feel they’ve lost some of the purity and dreaminess that made this song (and that whole album) one of my all-time favorites.

By this, I mean that in their more recent work, the story has become the song (or perhaps the song has become the story)–a vehicle to fill in all the details of the plot. In contrast, “Grace Cathedral Hill” is so compelling because the details are ephemeral: two people, a little confused, wandering the city looking for happiness or perhaps fulfillment. It is completely prosaic and yet heartbreakingly real. And that chorus! Such beauty, such innocence!

And the world maybe be long for you,
but he’ll never belong to you.
But on a motorbike,
when all the city lights blind your eyes tonight,
are you feeling better now?

Shiny

This is one of their earliest works, available on the Five Songs EP (the joke being that there are six songs). It’s got a slightly dark feel and a great melody (I think lilting is the word I’m looking for). Hearkening back to Meloy’s Tarkio days, it’s about as alt-country as they’ve ever been, but is still clearly a Decemberists tune. For some reason, the thing that always gets me on this song is the drumming. It’s not really anything that special, but the slight variations in volume and the occasional (and never completely expected) rolls really set the tone for me.

While we’re on the subject of the Decemberists, here’s a few more songs (by way of Kill Rock Stars), all of which are among their best:

The Soldiering Life
Here I Dreamt I Was an Architect
The Engine Driver

And, you can download a demo version of “The Tain, Part 1” at their Myspace page. Good stuff…

Do these country-tinged solo albums ever really turn out as well as we had hoped? I don’t think so. The disappointment at the beginning of the year was from Jenny Lewis, whose Rabbit Fur Coat was pleasant but never inspiring. The most recent example is Amy Millan and her new disc Honey From the Tombs. It’s not released in the US until August 22, but has been out since the end of May in our friendly neighbor to the north.

I don’t mean to suggest it’s a bad album–it’s not. It’s got some very enjoyable songs, and is certainly worth the money. It’s just that it lacks the transcendental moments that epitomize the best of Stars. The prospect of a full album of Amy Millan (one of my favorite artists and one of the best singers on the planet) had me incredibly excited. I was thinking “best album of the year contender.” Sadly, it did not turn out that way.

Talking about Rabbit Fur Coat a few months ago, I wrote the following:

It is a fairly typical solo album – not particularly different than her work with Rilo Kiley, more an excursion into Americana than a sign of any fundamental shift. It’s pleasant, and at times provides an excellent vehicle for her voice. Still, it suffers from a problem that many encounter when they make their country-influenced solo record – it feels affected. Part of what makes country and soul music so good is that they really dig deep into the human soul. That’s not to say you have to write “serious” songs for your music to be any good, but for the album to really do what it’s meant to do, I think it would have to get more into the nitty-gritty. As it is, it’s just a regular indie album stripped down to acoustic guitars, with a little not-quite-Southern twang and a few country cliches (God, the Devil, love, etc.). It’s not a bad album at all, but it’s also nothing groundbreaking.

That’s pretty much how I feel about this record, too. It’s not bad, but it is…well…a little bit boring. Every note is in place but there just isn’t a whole lot of substance. It has some good moments, and it’s certainly nice to hear her branch out a little bit, but the reality is that many of the best songs are those where she sounds most similar to her work with Stars.

Skinny Boy

Along those lines, this is the best song, and also the one that could most easily fit easily onto a Stars record. The “days of the week” sequel to Calendar Girl, I suppose (with the closing lines: “Monday, Tuesday so lonely / Wednesday, Thursday only me / Friday, Saturday only me / Here comes Sunday…”), it’s got a great mix of acoustic and electronic, and a voice at the center of it that you can’t help but fall in love with. It’s better than a lot of the songs from Set Yourself On Fire, and that was my #4 record of 2005.

One the other side of things, if the forays into acoustic territory aren’t great, they aren’t bad either, and some are quite nice. Here are a couple of my favorites of those:

Ruby II

The highlight of this one is the little acoustic solo bridge that starts about 40 seconds in. And, while she is clearly no Southern belle, the hint of twang on this one is just what the doctor ordered.

He Brings Out The Whiskey In Me

Here she sounds more lonesome, and her voice is pure as a mountain stream, with that tiniest catch that makes your heart ache. If all the country-type songs on the album were as good as this one, it really might be challenging for best of the year. Sadly, that was not to be. Still, the album we did get is worth a listen, flaws and all.

There are a number of artists I’ve been meaning to talk about ever since I started the blog. One of those is the Old 97s, the very best of the many many alt-country bands of the last decade or so. Well, now I’ve got an excuse to post about them, since they just released a greatest hits album Hit by a Train: The Best of Old 97s.

Now, this is not usually a good sign, as bands that are still consistently producing good albums don’t need to roll out the greatest hits disc. I wish I could say that wasn’t the case here but sadly, Rhett Miller and company haven’t produced a great album since 2001’s Satellite Rides, and Miller’s solo albums have been decent but nothing special. That said, I have still bought (and enjoyed) all those recent albums and if they haven’t reached the peaks of their earlier work, they’ve still been better than most other music out there.

As for the greatest hits album, it’s a fairly good selection of their songs, demonstrating different styles and moods, running the gamut from almost pure country-western of their early albums to the pop-country of “Nineteen” and “Rollerskate Skinny” to the tender beauty of “Valentine” to the raging drunken brawl of “Four Leaf Clover.”

However, there are a number of songs that I certainly never thought of as candidates for “best of” and a few glaring omissions. In particular, two songs are omitted that defy all explanation.

Salome

This is, by far, my favorite Old 97s song, the highlight of Too Far to Care, one of my all-time favorite albums. Packed with emotion without being overwrought, it showcases Miller’s wonderful voice, with just enough twang to keep you honest. Lovesick, heartfelt, and beautiful–I can’t recommend this song highly enough.

Wish the Worst

This perfectly sloppy drunken anthem epitomizes their early career for me. The chorus alone would make it a classic:

I hope you crash your momma’s car
I hope you pass out in some bar
I hope you catch some kinda flu
Let’s say I wish the worst for you

It’s the sort of song you can’t help but sing along to, and you find yourself empathizing all too much. Miller’s voice is once again a highlight, sounding about as Texan as you can get.

One song that is included on the collection, but is still worth talking about is:

Rollerskate Skinny

This song exemplifies some of their more recent work with a much more pop-oriented sound. The title is taken from Catcher in the Rye, which is great, and it includes one of my all-time favorite lines from any song ever: “How can you have everything and nothing to lose?” It just so perfectly describes the sort of person who can live their life carefree and happy, for whom happiness is overwhelming, and never tainted by the fear of loss. It’s not realistic, of course, but it’s still a nice idea.

Anyways, if you aren’t familiar with the Old 97s, picking up either Hit by a Train: The Best of Old 97s or Too Far to Care wouldn’t be a bad place to start.

There’s an interesting post (and ensuing conversation) at TW Walsh about The Devaluation of Music which contradicts the argument that modern technology is a friend of indie bands. Now, I’m not in a band and never will be, so I’m really in no position to speak about this, but I tend to think these kinds of comments are a little over-the-top, if not completely wrong.

It’s never been a sound economic decision to start a band and never will be. Those that “make it” usually end up making less money than most of their fans. The superstars are the overwhelmingly rare exception. But in spite of this, there are more people making music every
year. Why? Because music is a visceral experience, not a rational one. People make music because to not do so is simply not an option.

New forms of technology may change (radically, perhaps) the ways in which we make and experience music, but it will not kill the unquenchable desire.

Many people complain that digital music is less meaningful because it has no physical connection. That may certainly be their experience, but I think it is arrogant to suggest that those who grow up with digital music are incapable of appreciating it in the same way. Have we children of cassette tapes lost something intangible because we grew up as the record was dying? Has everyone who grew up with records and the radio lost something intangible because they experienced music as passive consumers instead of having to actually play an instrument or sing, like those who grew up in the 19th century?

The answer to all of those questions is yes. We have all lost something. But we all have loved music. The medium through which we encounter music may be incredibly important insofar as it shapes our experience. But I do not think any one way is intrinsically superior to any other.

The 21st century has allowed me to hear hundreds, if not thousands of bands I would never have encountered in another era. I love my music, and treasure it, and no less because it is increasingly a bunch of bytes on a computer.

Are we in for a change? Absolutely. Will it be bad for some artists and listeners? Of course. But I do not think the doomsday is here. And I hope that our technological advances really will enhance the experience of creating and listening to music for most people. I hope that bands can discover ways to promote themselves with the help of blogs and filesharing, instead of being hurt by them. I hope that the medium of the computer creates opportunities for new formats and approaches to the presentation of music. And I hope that the RIAA and those who are tied to “the way it’s always been done” don’t win out, and hold back innovations that can make all our lives better.

Anyways, one band that I certainly would never have encountered in a previous era is We Will Build. I found out about them from I Guess I’m Floating back in April and have been enjoying them ever since. Check out of a few of their songs, and share in the enjoyment of the music.

Out These Doors Inside (fantastic song – highly recommended)
3D Classic
Rain and Sun

And there are a bunch more available here.

Everyone likes a little moog, right? Well, The Anniversary like more than a little bit. They were one of the many, many bands on the emo/pop-punk post-New Wave bandwagon six or seven years ago, which I know isn’t a particularly resounding endorsement, but bear with me. They were among the best of that group and after a while of not really listening to them, I’ve been shocked to discover in the last few weeks that, unlike many of their contempories, their songs have actually aged pretty well.

The moog thing can get a little overwhelming and repetitive, but in small doses it gives their songs an earnest feeling that helps to differentiate them from countless Jimmy Eat World knock-offs. Their songs do tend to bleed together, but for the best variation on the same theme, check out this song from 2000’s Designing a Nervous Breakdown:

Emma Discovery

And, for a slightly different feel, my favorite song by them:

To Never Die Young – from the Split 7″ with Hod Rod Circuit (not to be confused with the far-inferior version from the album Your Majesty)

Just the right mixture of sounds, with guitars bashing away at each other, the piano humming along, and some delightfully sloppy vocal harmonies, this is the sound of a band having fun.

Alright, I’ll admit it, I’m hooked on Veronica Mars. What a great show. Clever, tricky, fun, quirky. It’s like Buffy combined with Nancy Drew combined with The OC combined with Twin Peaks. I’m halfway through the first season and very anxious to discover the answer to some of the mysteries.

And, like many new shows, it’s also a vehicle for some great music. From references to Snow Patrol to a little bit of “Slow Hands” by Interpol over a flashback to a scene where a character tries to pass off the lyrics to “When the Angels Sing” (possibly my favorite Social Distortion song) as his own original poetry, there’s a lot of good stuff.

Here are a few songs that feature in the episodes I’ve seen or on the soundtrack.

When the Angels Sing – Social Distortion
Long Time Coming – The Delays
Fireflies – Amy Cook
Weak Become Heroes – The Streets

And, just in case you needed yet another pop culture experience with Ben and Jimmy, one of the early episodes includes Veronica and Troy talking about Such Great Heights (no download because, let’s face it, if you don’t already have this song or can’t figure out how to find it, you’ve probably been living on Tethys, the third moon of Saturn, for the last 4 years).

Around the blogosphere: The Smudge of Ashen Fluff has some songs by Heartache With Hard Work favorites The Submarines from their performance on KCRW.

Also, a number of folks have posted about Ted Stevens’ brilliant comments on net neutrality. Head over to Another Form of Relief to read about it and listen to a techno remix of Stevens’ remarks. Or you can stay right here to check out the Daily Show take on it.

On a more serious note: things are looking worse and worse in the Middle East. I’m not going to get into it here, but if you want to understand what it might be like in Lebanon right now, or if you simply want to read a truly beautiful book, I would recommend Beirut Fragments by Jean Said Makdisi (the sister of Edward Said, for those who care about that sort of thing). It’s one of my favorite books, and seems more appropriate than ever this week.

I don’t actually know a whole lot about Aberdeen. The two main members are John Girgus and Beth Arzy (of the Trembling Blue Stars). They released a number of songs on Sarah Records in the 90s, but didn’t get around to making a full-length record until 2002’s Homesick and Happy to Be Here, which was breezy, fun, and beautiful at times.

Homesick

If you only hear one song by them, it needs to be this one. It’s pastoral, effortless, and sounds like floating on a cloud. It starts quietly and her voice drifts along, full of gentle longing, barely skimming the surface. But my absolute favorite moment is when all the sweet tension fractures and the music bursts out at the 4:07 mark. I’ve been in love with this song for years and really can’t get enough of it.

Kyoto Death Song

From the recent EP Florida, this one sounds (appropriately enough) like the twee-folk incarnation of the Trembling Blue Stars. Beth Arzy has a great voice, smooth and pure, and it’s on fine display here.

As for pop culture significance, they apparently made an appearance on an season 7 episode of Buffy, though I haven’t seen that one. They also appear to have a CD coming out in September that’s a compilation of singles and extras called What Do I Wish For Now? If I hear anything more about that, I’ll probably post about them again.

And, for your daily Sufjan fix, I was going to write something extensive about Stephen Erlewine’s A Case Against Sufjan Stevens, but realized it’s not really worth the effort. Anything embraced by hipsters one year by definition must suffer a hipster backlash the following year and become so totally uncool, only to experience a revival a year or two later. It’s the natural order of things.

I will point out one thing that I found pretty annoying, though. Some quotes:
1. “an artist who is building his career on a schoolboy’s conceit”
2. “his music doesn’t play as sophisticated, because of the school-report nature of his subjects – each song is thoroughly researched, spit-shined, and presented for the class, as if he’s reciting all that he learned during his time in the library”
3. “two traits that make his music no longer quite so charming: his pretension and childish preciousness.”
4. “his adolescent fascination with John Wayne Gacy, Jr.”
5. “all comes across like a precocious high school student in his senior year, where he’s smug enough to want to prove that he’s smarter than the rest of the school.”
6. “Appropriately, his lyrics often read like the work of a gifted but sheltered high schooler, and his music sounds like a drama student’s idea of a pop opera”
7. “earnest ambition and an overt pretension”
8. “It’s music that gives the impression of being sophisticated and complex, that never comes close to the sophistication of…”
9. “it certainly doesn’t have the complexity or range of…”

In an essay of 1300 words, that’s SIX separate jabs that liken Sufjan to an adolescent and three more that accuse him of a lack of sophistication. Combined with a number of complaints at the Sufjan’s lack of variety, am I the only one thinking: Pot, kettle?