Heartache With Hard Work

Honey in the Sun – Camera Obscura
James – Camera Obscura

When I first heard “Let’s Get Out of This Country” by Camera Obscura a few years back it was a revelation, almost a religious experience. The joyfulness, the way that opening guitar riff signaled the rush of good feelings and hope at a new day, the bringing together of strings and backbeat into something that utterly exceeded that 60’s girl group sound that I love so well.

I bring this up to try and explain why, as good as My Maudlin Career undoubtedly is, to me it can only be a pale imitation of what came before. And the biggest problem is that it all just sounds so stuffy. Tracyanne Campbell has always had a bit of a nasally voice but up until now it was deployed in contexts that let it signify an earnestness and openness. This time around, the surrounding music treads dangerously close to creating a stifling atmosphere – one wholly at odds with the expressiveness and wide open spaces that made their best work so good.

In some ways, it’s characteristic of a broader trend in popular music over the decades, the closing down of open spaces, the effort to make every sound a little punchier.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love a good Wall of Sound record. And I still adore a lot of those sixties songs that made their mark by smothering you with their melody. So I’m not against the idea in principle. It’s just that it’s so easy to go for Big or Full and end up with Claustrophobic instead. A good Wall of Sound isn’t really a wall at all; instead it’s about layers and layers. There are elements buried deep that prop up the whole sound but you likely won’t ever actually hear unless you’re paying close attention. The result is the simulation of one giant tidal wave of sound but it’s constructed out of many tiny moving pieces which each have their own place.

The more unfortunate variation of this approach just tosses everything into the front. The vocals feel like they’re right on top of you, the strings swaddle you, the guitars are struggling for space, and there’s just not an opportunity to hear what’s going on.

This is all going a little far afield of course. I’m not accusing Camera Obscura of representing anything close to the worst of this phenomenon. For all my modest complaints, My Maudlin Career remains a delightful record with more than a few great, great songs. But I do genuinely think that this problem helps explain why it utterly fails to grab me and hurl me toward the heavens the way it seems to desire.

Witness “French Navy” which has all the makings of a perfect blissout, but which just sounds so BUSY during that chorus that all of the delicate work done to put things together can’t quite sustain itself. Or “The Sweetest Thing” which ends up in much the same place. Both are very nice songs, but they remind me just a little bit of what happens when you try to intensify ALL your colors and realize that your ‘improvements’ have done little more than leave things with a hint of the garish. The title track is perhaps the most perfect example of this effect. I desperately WANT to like it, but there’s simply too much going on for me to grasp it.

In my mind, this is the real division of songs on the record. About half of them veer into this territory and lose some of the heft they might otherwise have held. A few others offer just a touch more restraint, and therefore pack a much bigger punch. “You Told a Lie,” for example, plays quite a bit more with the idea of open spaces in the music. The way the strings glide through the gaps in the percussion, to offer one example, is absolutely marvelous. Along these lines, “Swans” is another rousing success. It swoops and dives like it’s just learned how to fly. Same thing with the album closer “Honey in the Sun.” These demonstrate that Camera Obscura retain an impressive capacity to make music to make you revel in simply being alive.

As for the slower stuff, “Forest and Sands” is driven by a nice bit of pedal steel, that offers a subtlety of spirit Elsewhere, “James” gives Ms. Campbell a real chance to shine. Here the landscape is opened up. It’s the panoramic view: a girl alone on a wide plain, full of regrets, trying to hold together a broken heart.

In contrast, “Careless Love” strives for much the same thing, but the stuffiness of the sound makes it impossible to suspend disbelief and transport yourself into the world being described. Instead of the wide open plain, the terrain this time is a hot and airless recording studio. And “Other Towns and Cities” takes a nice enough song and then drapes so many echo effects over her voice that you almost feel the need to gasp for breath.

The final result is a patchy record. No bad songs, really, but a faint sense of disappointment hangs over the whole thing. Which is a shame because even with the flaws, it remains an excellent album. It’s just that with a slightly different studio attitude, it could have been an absolute triumph.

I haven’t written anything about politics in quite a while. In part because I’ve been so busy. But also just because it feels hard at this moment to really say anything definitive.

If I saw myself as a firebrand progressive blogger, obviously I should be spending this time fulminating about the necessity for health care reform, and castigating the “moderate” elements of the Democratic Party, screaming about the apostasy of stupid Max Baucus, and complaining about the administration consistently getting out-spun by a bunch of idiots. I would be listing all the moral arguments about the need for expanding health care coverage, about the insanity of our current system which costs more than everyone else in the world while failing to meaningfully cover huge sectors of the population.

All of that is true, and maybe I ought to be writing more extensively on those issues. It’s just…we all know all of that. I’m presuming that no one reading this blog isn’t aware of this. And perhaps it’s an abrogation of my responsibility, but I just don’t see myself as someone who is out to write that sort of thing.

Maybe it’s a retreat into academia (okay, almost certainly that’s what it is), but I find it more interesting to analyze what’s going on then to try and write from the perspective of an activist. Obviously, the lines blur. And I’m perfectly okay with that. But it’s hard to motivate myself to sit here and write about all the insane ‘controversies’ that keep erupting about this stuff.

So I’ll just say this once:

We are the richest and most powerful nation in the world. There is no excuse, absolutely none, for ANY of our citizens (much less 40 million of them) to be without health insurance. If you get sick, you should get medical care. It shouldn’t cost you anything. The ‘rationing’ of care is absolutely inevitable, but the only alternative to having the government provide some minimum guidelines is letting the ‘free’ market completely fail to cover huge sectors of the public.

All of the ridiculous scare tactics, in my mind, are absolutely demolished by the clear and evident proof of successful health care in virtually every other industrialized country in the world. Want to save federal budgets for centuries AND offer approximately the same quality of care: adopt the British model. Want to offer some of the best coverage in the world at a decent price: how about France, or Canada? Want a reasonable case for what could happen if you want reform but aren’t willing to sacrifice the basic (insane) patchwork framework we’ve cobbled together: well, how about Switzerland?

These are all real countries with functioning health care systems.

I’ve got a few ideas rumbling around about the politics of this, and the details of all the little fights and minutia, but at its core, that’s really what’s at stake here. Talk about cost savings all you want, and fight the good fight telling the people freaking out about ‘death panels’ to get a grip. But just keep your eyes on the prize. The system is broken and needs to be fixed. If we don’t do it now, we may never get a better chance.

So get it done. Recognize that all the forces of the status quo will be mobilized against you. But if you succeed all of that will drift away like bits of flotsam and jetsam. If this happens, I have every confidence that almost every idiotic fight of the past few months will be forgotten about by the time 2012 rolls around. The only thing that will be remembered is that for the first time in a generation, a new administration was able to make a profound and significant difference in the lives of those who needed it most. People are scared of change, but legislators have an obligation to do what is best, not just what appears to be popular in one particular moment.

Moth’s Wings – Passion Pit

Hands up, everyone who predicted the LP from Passion Pit would be this good. Anyone? I certainly didn’t. “Sleepyhead” was a great track, but it had all the marks of a classic one-hit wonder band. It seemed eminently likely that they would eventually come out with a record that utterly failed to live up to that one track and would quickly fade from memory

It turns out though, that Manners is far better than anybody would have guessed.

They avoid both traps: first, the risk of issuing a bunch of insipid re-treads of their one hit; second, the risk of trying to prove themselves to be far more than their one by producing a bunch of songs that aim for sophistication but in fact are merely listless and indifferent.

The secret seems to be an utter lack of concern with how the record will be received. Rather than trying to make any particular statement or point, they appear utterly satisfied with the project of churning out delicious pop songs. In so doing, they completely capture the spirit that made “Sleepyhead” such an earworm without needing to simply replicate its sound.

The first couple tracks give you a sense that they might be onto something, but it’s on the third track – the glorious and epic “Moth’s Wings” – that you really begin to understand just what they have accomplished. Intricately constructed, bombastic, and oh that chorus. It’s Miracle Fortress with the afterburners turned on.

The rest of the album never quite reaches those heights again, but there’s no shame in that. There’s plenty a great dance track here, as they draw out all the best elements from the past three or four decades of music. Meld together the 80s euphoria that made Cut Copy so much fun last year with a pure pop bliss that would make Brian Wilson blush. Add some disco-infused indie electronica and set the whole thing free.

Even the weaker tracks (album opener “Make Light” for example) err on the side of exuberance and reach a bit too far. The mistakes a bold, adventurous, and so well-meaning that it’s hard to really blame them. And even if the screech of the vocals gets a bit much here, or the synths overwhelm the rest of the melody there, you run into a “Moth’s Wings” or “Eyes as Candles” and your heart is so instantly filled with joy that the little imperfections waft away into nothingness.

Me and Mary – Asobi Seksu
Sunshower – Asobi Seksu

It seems silly to complain too much about such a nice album, but I just can’t help myself. When listening to Hush, the latest record from Brooklyn’s pop/shoegaze hybrid Asobi Seksu I can’t help but wonder: what happened to the shoegaze part?

I mean, sure, it’s still dreamy and has more than a few moments punctuated by swirls and eddies. But when compared to 2006’s Citrus the whole thing feels a lot tamer. Where are the cascading waves of guitar, the machinegun rattle of the drums, the long meandering trails that seem to lead nowhere but take you into the heavens? What drew me to the band was the way their music sounded like an Impressionist painting. From too close, it might seem like mere splotches of paint with no form but from sufficient distance the colors and shapes emerge like magic.

Hush does not work in the same way. There is far more attention to detail, which produces much more intricate and textured music, but may come at the cost of the messy beauty found in the relationships between sounds.

Perhaps it’s not a fair complaint. There was something unique about the messy chaos on Citrus that worked for me far beyond expectations. And, like I said, it is still a very nice record – even if it feels a little too antiseptic for its own good.

“Layers” starts things off with care, offering a gentle introduction to the magic of Yuki Chikudate’s voice. It’s followed by “Familiar Light” – a pop gem that is beautiful from start to finish but which really grabs hold of you about 2/3 of the way through when the shoegaze comes to the forefront. The next few songs are pleasant enough but also are perfect examples of my concern: too much detail and not enough Sound.

Fortunately, “Sunshower” comes next and reminds us of just how good they are at this sort of thing. The perfect chorus, the huge guitars, the frenetic drums, all sealed up within a shimmery box.

The second half drags a bit, with no bad songs but also with none that leap out until “Me and Mary” which offers the best case for this newest incarnation of the band. Reviewing it late last year I said “it takes you dancing and swirling around corners at breakneck speed in a way that a million My Bloody Valentine retreads could never even imagine.” I stand by that. It’s one of the best songs they’ve put together and a sign that they can do this kind of thing and still tear the house down. It’s also telling that it’s the shortest song on the record. Where too much of Hush is devoted to build-ups that never burst, “Me and Mary” doesn’t mess around. It hits you full force right from the start and tosses you like a rag doll from verse to bridge to chorus and back again – no time for worries, or even for catching your breath.

That’s the way it’s meant to be done, and Hush would be a truly great album if it held onto a little bit more of that attitude over the course of the record.

Long time, no blog. Obviously.

But after an extremely busy summer out in Hanover, I’m back home – and moved into the new place in San Jose. So while I do have a decent amount of school work I want to do in the next month before classes start again, and a ton of house stuff (starting the garden, buying furniture, moving all my junk out of storage, etc.) I think I’ll actually have a bit of spare time for sitting in front of the computer and talking about music.

God Help the Girl – God Help the Girl
A Down And Dusky Blonde – God Help the Girl

First on the list is God Help the Girl, the latest Stuart Murdoch project. To be honest, I’m not even completely clear on the details. I think it’s supposed to eventually be a musical film. But the record is already out. And as far as I can tell, it’s the moment when the line between Stephin Merritt and Stuart Murdoch (already blurry) may have completely disappeared.

Which is hardly a bad thing, of course. As much as I enjoyed the old fey Belle and Sebastian, it’s hard to argue that the latest orchestral pop incarnation of Murdoch hasn’t been a good thing. And it’s particularly true this time around – with the revolving cast of singers offering a lot more depth than there might othewise have been. The title track is one highlight – a delicious pop romp that would fit in perfectly on the new Camera Obscura record. But there’s quite a bit more. “Perfection As A Hipster” (with Neil Hannon from The Divine Comedy) is a right good time. Then there’s “Come Monday Night” which is one of the prettiest songs Murdoch has put together in quite a while, though “Pretty Eve In the Tub” gives it a run for its money. And while I could do without the dull intro to “Musician, Please Take Heed” the final 2/3 are lightning in a bottle (check out that section at about 2:15 if you don’t believe me).

And the album’s finest moment may be the final two tracks – which provide a capstone – and the hope for a happy conclusion – for all of the passion and energy up until that point. How could anyone listen to the insistent ‘I’ll keep on dancing’ at the end of “I’ll Have To Dance With Cassie” and not feel just a little bit better about the world? Then things wrap up with “A Down And Dusky Blonde” which brings it all together and gives everyone a final chance in the spotlight. It’s the sound of good times coming to an end, full of memories and the hope of a bright new future, but melancholy about the parting of ways. Or rather, it’s the sound of eventful times coming to an end – and the way that all the pain and loss drops away and for just a moment all you can think about is how it felt to be so alive.

Honestly, one of my least favorite songs on the record is the re-make of “Funny Little Frong” – which is odd because I loved the original. As much as I adore the melding of pop and soul on some occasions, I’m just not sure it works for me this time around. “Act of the Apostle” on the other hand manages to improve substantially on the version from The Life Pursuit.

This record has definitely been a grower for me. A month ago I would have said it was a nice album, but wasn’t likely to leave a lasting impression. The more that I listen, the more I think it’s up there with some of the best of Murdoch’s work. Ask me again in four months and maybe I’ll be sure.

Quiet Dog – Mos Def

As I’ve said, I’m not real big on hip hop, but sometimes something comes around that’s too good to ignore. The new Mos Def album definitely falls into that category. The general consensus seems to be that it’s a major step back up for him after several disappointing albums. To be honest, I never had a strong opinion one way or the other about his previous works. He’s clearly immensely talented and every so often has a track that I really enjoy.

The Ecstatic, though, is certainly the first record that I’ve actively enjoyed from top to bottom.

“Quiet Dog” was my introduction, and the track that convinced me I absolutely had to hear the rest. It’s got an awesome percussive beat that manages to be both infinitely smooth and totally intense. He lays deep grooves but manages to skip and dance among them with total freedom and clarity. Hands down one of the best songs I’ve heard this year.

Elsewhere, there is “Life in Marvelous Times” which is far slicker and more melodic than I’d expect – but accomplishes this without collapsing into the shiny pop-hop that seems to plaster the popular consciousness these days. And “Casa Bey” has this almost disco-beat going – which sounds horrible, obviously but turns out to be an awesome vehicle for him to take rolling over the track. “Roses” is surprisingly sweet, while “Pretty Dancer” brings the grime.

The record also has a number of diversions into almost-Eastern samples and far more abstract meanderings – which may be a good or bad thing depending on your mood. It certainly offers a change of pace and gives the whole enterprise a ghostly feeling. “Auditorium” for example is a perfect showcase for his impeccable flow and rhythm, but it’s far more powerful thanks to the vaporous samples (and the interlude from Slick Rick) that guide the whole thing.

Summers – Loney, Dear
I Was Only Going Out – Loney, Dear

It took me a while to really get excited about the previous record from Loney, Dear (the pseudonym for Swedish pop-songster Emil Svanängen), but once I lived with it for about six months I came to realize that “I Am John” was hands-down one of the finest songs of 2007.

Much the same thing has happened this time around, with his latest effort Dear John. While there’s no single song that approaches masterpiece territory, the quality of the album as a whole is quite high. The main change from Loney, Noir is a somewhat darker texture. What some artists might attempt with rustic and dark neo-folk Loney Dear approaches through a tangled web of pulsing synths. Witness the thick cloud of sound the album’s two opening tracks: “Airport Surroundings” and “Everything Turns to You.” The former is the sound of a lost soul standing in the midst of thousands of strangers – disconcerted and unsure – while the latter is positively claustrophic.

All of this helps to explain some of why it took me so long to really appreciate the record. These two tracks are both perfectly constructed but certainly do not easily offer themselves. Even now, after coming to appreciate them a great deal, the sensation is much more about letting the music flow past than it is about any kind of direct engagement. And that probably applies to the record as a whole. It’s a stranger that you never quite come to know, but increasingly grow to appreciate despite the maintenance of distance.

As ever, Svanängen is a master of pacing. There’s the slow build-up, most perfectly captured on “Summers” which takes more than two minutes to catch fire but once it does…it’s one of the prettiest and most engaging songs of the year. And on the larger scale, the organization of tracks helps to offer some balance. “Summers” fits snugly in the middle of the album, offering some buoyancy to lift up your spirits amidst the gloomier tracks that surround it. Similarly, “I Was Only Going Out” and “Harsh Words” are a welcome relief to the previously mentioned opening two tracks. They offer a lightness and a sense of shared feeling that puts the bleakness in perspective. Not optimism, necessarily. Even when strolling along in a major key Loney, Dear is much more about empathy than happiness.

The two faces of the album, then, are the dull ache of a life lived without intimacy counterposed against the sharp pain of those who leave themselves exposed.

And the overarching theme that connects the two is the degree to which each approach develops its own architecture of meaning. Each song on the album is intricately constructed, with ebbs and flows designed to wring every bit of meaning possible out of the sounds that are deployed. Even for the tracks that don’t fully work for me, it’s extremely difficult to argue with the effort that has gone into their production. “Under a Silent Sea” for example has an internal coherence and range of movement that would please the most classically trained musician.

The songs that work the least well for me are the ones that hold exclusively onto one tone, in particular “Harm/Slow” and “I Got Lost” which remind me of cars circling a roundabout for five or six trips, never managing to figure out which exit they want to take. These are the staging grounds for excursions into something far more interesting, but they don’t really follow through.

On the whole, though, Dear John is an excellent album. And the fact that it took me six months to get around to reviewing it doesn’t change that fact at all.

Bones – Foam Castles
Shipwrecked Shores – Foam Castles

Foam Castles are purveyors of dreamy pop music. Think about a more damaged-sounding Submarines or a Casiotone for the Painfully Alone who’s no longer painfully alone but instead is just a little bit disoriented. They’ve got two full records available for free download. I haven’t given myself time to fully digest Why We Walk yet, but I’ve had Night Crawling playing fairly constantly for the last month or so.

My first impression had me paying attention to the delicate, gauzy feel of many of the tracks. While there’s a lot more to it than just that, further listens have confirmed the significance of that sensation. “Got to Find the Time” is a great example, with the light touch of the saxophone serving as a perfectly balanced counterpart to a melody that swirls languorously around you. And you could hardly ask for more in this department than the eerie “Blue Toyota” which sounds like it would be most at home over the opening credits of a love story directed by Tim Burton.

Speaking of creepy soundscapes, there’s also “Nightcrawlers” which manages to sound exactly like its subject matter, wriggling through dark soil and compressed space.

Elsewhere, you’ll find some songs that inhabit a slightly brighter world. “Cylinders” is a woozy rainbow, endlessly fascinating but never quite within your reach. And “Bones” is one of the finest pop songs I’ve heard this year, with a big old fashioned chorus and harmonies that just scream for inclusion on every summer mixtape made by an indie-kid this year.

I could go on about pretty much every song on the record. “Girl One” deserves special plaudits for the way they make the line “there’s a girl who loves me but she’s far away” manage to convey as much as you’d expect to get from a short novel.

And I haven’t even mentioned what might be the best track. “Shipwrecked Shores” offers a perfect example of the magic that can be worked with the simplest of ingredients. The piano provides a perfect backdrop for a bit of impressionist musical painting. Generous dabs of a rolling piano wave crest over a sun-speckled beach. The light scatters everywhere as it touches on tiny shards of broken glass worn down over the years. You lean back with your eyes wide open and stare into the bluest sky you’ve ever seen, and when the final line repeats “I’m just hanging around…” over and over, nothing could sound more appropriate.

Busy busy busy. But just enough time for one complaint. Isaac Chotiner says the following re: the tone of the questioning by the 8 male Justices (well, seven since Thomas never says anything) in the recent strip search case:

Bazelon is implying–as did many others at the time–that joking about something means you do not take it seriously. This is a very limited way of looking at how human beings behave. There are plenty of reasons to abstain from making a joke–it is not funny, it is hurtful, etc.–but the seriousness of the subject is not automatically one of them. In other words, just because Justice Breyer makes light of his experiences in gym class, it does not follow that he has little sympathy for Savana Redding. The Court’s admirable ruling proves this clearly.

I don’t think anyone thinks the seriousness of the subject makes it impossible to make a joke about the situation. The many folks who expressed legitimate complaints weren’t focused on ‘seriousness’ in the abstract – they were focused on it in the context of deliberation by the highest Court in the land. The power imbalance already implied by that situation makes it enormously inappropriate to joke and laugh about that sort of thing. It’s an incredibly obvious means of minimizing and dismissing a legitimate perspective.

That they came to the right decision is great. That they took the detour through juvenile masculinity remains a problem. The former is clearly more important, but the latter isn’t insigificant.

Chotiner’s point seems to be that the eventual outcome is all we can concern ourselves with. But, for me, the attitude that influential folks take in their public deliberation signals something about the broader question. And if anyone in the world should be attuned to that, it ought to be Supreme Court Justices.

Sad Birthday – Bombadil
25 Daniels – Bombadil

I’m usually pretty terrible about matching up a review of a record with its release date. In part that’s because I’m so far behind these days that I don’t get around to reviewing things until they’ve been out for six months and everyone has already made up their minds about it (Speaking of which, the new Neko Case album is pretty good, eh?). But I’m making an exception for this one because the album is great and the band is thoroughly deserving of any attention they might receive.

Bombadil have long been a favorite of the blog. My first mention was almost three years ago when all they had out was a short EP. They followed that up with A Buzz, A Buzz which was one of my favorite albums from last year. And yesterday was the release date for their second full-length record.

Tarpits And Canyonlands picks up right where the previous album left off. It features much the same vivaciousness, the kind of sound that’s only possible when you combine the an organic, acoustic feel with an almost boundless sense of energy.

To grasp what I mean, look no further than the second track “Sad Birthday” which is hearfelt, absolutely dripping with a deep sense of empathy and yet simultaneously is one of the most rambunctious and infectious songs I’ve heard all year. Bombadil has always impressed with their ability to build walls of sound out of airy instrumentals and harmonies, and there is plenty of that on display here. The interplay between the simple piano line and the percussive rat-a-tats, in particular, is a work of pure and simple genius.

The album is full of reference to marriage. The backstory is that they started writing songs for friends’ weddings which found their way onto the record. So it wasn’t precisely an intentional concept. But it works all the better that way. With these forays into the question of lives lived together, the power of a shared future, you get a backbone for the whole record. The location from which all things must depart. The center around which all else must circle.

“Honeymoon” sets the stage. It’s possibly their most perfectly arranged song yet, which is particularly high praise for this band. The last minute and a half or so is simply stunning. It’s a rare thing to marvel at the perfect placement of every note and while simultaneously being blown away by the sheer living force of the sound.

In a past review I likened them to The Pogues, and I’m even more convinced of that comparison now. It’s not a matter of the sound, precisely – though they do share quite a bit there. But even more it’s about the way they take a long folk tradition and make it completely their own. It’s hard to identify specific places where it happens, but the total product is something that somehow transcends all expectations.

Some music astonishes you because of the way it innovates. And on occasion Bombadil give you a little bit of that. But far more often they astonish in an entirely different way: by producing music that sounds so absolutely right that you can’t believe it didn’t already exist. It isn’t that they reveal something new. It’s that they reveal what was already there but you had so completely inured yourself to that it had been lost.

The result is songs like “Oto The Bear” or “Pyramid” or “So Many Ways to Die” which feel like they’ve been part of you for your entire life, but which you could never have imagined until they were revealed to you.

And when I think about it, in a lot of ways that’s the ultimate and purest task of music: to show you what you should have already known but had somehow managed to lose track of. That which seemed impossible until you realized it had been with you all along.

Of all the records that I’ve heard this year, it’s hard to think of one that more effectively accomplishes this than Tarpits and Canyonlands. While there are occasional missteps – mostly on the tracks where they overemphasize intracy of harmony and lose some of the rambunctiousness that characterizes their best work – the project as whole comes to life with such radiance that everything else seems to fade a little bit into the background.

There might be better albums this year, but it’s hard to imagine one that more fully communicates and embodies the richness of life. It’s not about finding answers. It’s just about knowing that that there are other folks out there struggling, trying, failing, getting back up again, and wondering what it all means. You share the road with your fellow travelers, and together you sing along with the end of “25 Daniels” and remind yourself of how much we all have to share with each other if only we could remember it.

So get yourself a copy of the record, and give yourself permission to remember what it feels like.