Showing posts with label Album Reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Album Reviews. Show all posts

Sunday, June 23, 2019

The Boss Heads in a New Direction, Beholding Beauty in the Setting Sun -- Album Review: Bruce Springsteen - Western Stars

Album Review

Bruce Springsteen
Western Stars
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Bruce Springsteen is my favorite musician by a considerable margin, even beyond the Beatles, who I almost literally worship.

I own virtually every piece of music Springsteen--a.k.a. The Boss--has ever officially released, excepting the complete swath of concert recordings of every show since 2014 and some of his live archival releases. (I have about 40 of these "official bootlegs" but far from all.)

And as will sound crazy except to the many Bruce fanatics who have seen dozens--or hundreds--more gigs, I have had the sheer pleasure of seeing him live 50 times, most with the E Street Band backing him, but not all, including his Springsteen on Broadway show.

On June 14, Springsteen--who will be 70 in 3 months--released his 19th studio album, Western Stars, the first since High Hopes (my review) in 2014.

So it seemed natural for me to review the new album, and some friends have actually asked me to do so.

I've now listened to Western Stars enough for its 13 songs to become familiar and comfortable, yet--as with all great albums--it will likely be weeks, months or even years before the tracks feel fully natural, devoid of any "breaking them in" dynamic, such as with shoes.

And given that the album represents something of a stylistic departure for Springsteen--including a prevalence of strings, rather than hard rocking guitars & drums--I perceive it very well be a record that continues to grow on me.

I'm enjoying the album, and there are no songs I dislike. 

If you, too, are a Boss fan, I suggest you buy it, or listen online--I've embedded a Spotify player below--and I think you will find much to appreciate, while being forewarned that this ISN'T Born to Run, Born in the U.S.A. nor even Nebraska or Tunnel of Love.

That's not to say the music and lyrics are unrecognizable.

As he has throughout his long recording career, Bruce sings about blue collar working men who feel some kind of longing. A wayfarer, an ex-actor, a former stuntman, a tavern owner, etc., with the somewhat unique commonality throughout Western Stars--the title is thematic--being a sense of the west, the rustic, the wide open spaces...as explored by the world's most famous New Jerseyan.

In interviews about this album--which has been in the works with Springsteen's co-producer Ron Aniello since before 2012 and supposedly completed a good while ago--Bruce cited the late-'60s "California music" of Glen Campbell, Jimmy Webb and Burt Bacharach as what stirred his songwriting.

Along with those influences, there is--one presumes, as the narrators in Springsteen's songs don't often represent him acutely; think "Born in the U.S.A."--candor about the singer's own psyche, which he wove into his 2016 autobiography, titled Born to Run, and the Broadway show that ran for over a year (catch it on Netflix). 

As do many people, of all levels of wealth, success, fame, fortune, etc., the Boss admittedly suffers from depression, and I imagine he's addressing familiar tendencies in lyrics such as these from Western Stars' first single, "Hello Sunshine":

You know I always liked my walking shoes 
But you can get a little too fond of the blues 
You walk too far, you walk away 
Hello sunshine, won't you stay?

Along with the lushly orchestral "Tucson Train," the melancholic "Moonlight Motel," the Roy Orbisonesque "There Goes My Miracle," the album's wistful title track, plus "Stones," "Sundown," and essentially all 13 cuts, "Hello Sunshine" is what I'd describe as quality song.

And an album full of quality songs is a quality album.

But the trick in trying to review--and rate, on my @@@@@ scale--Western Stars comes in comparing it to Springsteen's remarkable past output, considering it from the standpoint of a non-acolyte who may not give it the requisite time to congeal and wondering which songs I might relish hearing concert, even in lieu of some old favorites.

That's why, at this point, I've settled on @@@@, even though it's not impossible to perceive 1/2 or full @ more may be merited, particular with increased familiarity.

Western Stars feels well on par with recent music from other master songwriters, such as Bob Dylan and Neil Young, or the venerated oeuvres of Bruce Cockburn and Lucinda Williams, acclaimed singer/songwriters I've come to initially explore just in the recent past.

There has been no word yet on Springsteen tour plans, except for Bruce himself revealing in a recent interview that for the first time in years, he has--meaning in the past few months, not the Western Stars material--written a batch of songs suitable for the E Street Band to record and then tour behind, presumably in 2020.

Hopefully, he'll also opt to include some stuff from this album on an ESB tour, with "Tucson Train" and "There Goes My Miracle" perhaps the most obviously transferable choices.

And if Springsteen opts to do a small tour, either solo or with a few cohorts and a string section, I would be happy to hear any of the Western Stars songs in a live setting.

But with one of the greatest catalogs in rock history, Bruce Springsteen has put out dozens of fine songs that devoted fans may know, yet are far from "greatest hits" type tunes.

"Long Time Comin'," "Kingdom of Days," "My Lucky Day," "This Is Your Sword," "Long Walk Home" and "Jack of All Trades" are just a few favorites of mine in this realm, simply from the 21st century.

Plus, heck, he has many outtakes I think are masterpieces, starting with "Rendezvous," "Roulette," "Dollhouse," "Stray Bullet," "Save My Love" and "Be True."

So while Western Stars is filled with strong songs, how many would I put on a "Get to Know the Boss" 20-song playlist aimed at a non-Springsteen fan?

Probably none. Perhaps one, just because of the newness.

How many would I really want to hear in any given E Street Band show?

Three at most, though any of the 13 over time.

Even though I've heard "Born to Run" at virtually every show--46 of 50--would I be happy if it got skipped in favor of a Western Stars track?

No.  

And in not feeling @@@@@ is proper, despite really enjoying Western Stars, my point of comparison is to classics beyond Springsteen's own. 

Even once it really sinks in, do I perceive it as a Desert Island Disc, or as part of my core being beyond Zeppelin IV, Who's Next, Nevermind, etc.?

No, but then consider this: 

Has any rock artist ever put out music past the age of 40 that decidedly tops their pre-40 output?

I don't mean have veteran acts released good, even great music. I mean, if you could only hear music that was made before a musician (or band members) turned 40 or after, from whom would you select the latter output. 

My answer is no one, including my beloved Boss, still doing amazing things at 69. 

Which is a long way of saying that Western Stars is an excellent album, but I don't think it's a transcendent one.

---
But decide for yourself:

Tuesday, December 05, 2017

Milquetoast 'Experience': Overproduced Earnestness Fails to Enliven U2's Latest 'Songs' -- Album Review

Album Review

U2
Songs of Experience
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I am unabashedly and unapologetically a U2 fan.

In the present tense.

The Irish quartet, still comprised of only its original members, is definitively one of my 10 favorite rock 'n roll artists of all time.

And I believe their stature as probably the biggest band in the world remains well-justified, merely as a live act.

Demonstrably proven again this year, in 2015 and across nearly four decades, U2’s concerts have consistently been thrilling, moving, galvanizing and often quite visionary in advancing the art of audiovisual presentation.

Sure, their shows typically resound around the same “tentpole” songs—"Sunday Bloody Sunday," "Pride (in the Name of Love)," "Where the Streets Have No Name," "With or Without You," "Bad," "New Year's Day," "One"— but this is rather standard for veteran superstar acts.

And in often having wished for them to dig deeper into their catalog, I relished their latest tour celebrating the 30th anniversary of The Joshua Tree album. For the first time in decades, I got to hear "In God's Country," "Exit,""Red Hill Mining Town," and more, even "A Sort of Homecoming" from the album prior, The Unforgettable Fire.

To me, Bono, the Edge, Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen, Jr. still sounded fantastic. 

So I would vehemently disagree with anyone who claims, "U2 sucks" or "They've been shite for 30 years."

2014's Songs of Innocence cover
I even defended the band when, in 2014, U2 and Apple seemingly pissed off everyone alive who wasn't a fan by providing free digital copies of the new Songs of Experience album with the latest version of iTunes, tied to the announcement of the iPhone 6.

I didn't love that album, but certainly would have bought it, so was happy to have gotten free music. I subsequently even did buy a physical copy.

But much as I believe that people can become more patriotic by chastising their country and leaders--and actually protesting--I don't think being a fan, or fanatic, of a certain band means never being critical about them.

And to those who might say, "U2's been putting out lousy albums for years," I couldn't help but concur.

I still like 2000's All that You Can't Leave Behind--though largely just for "Beautiful Day," "Elevation" and "Walk On"--and 1993's Zooropa benefited from being relatively off-the-cuff, but basically since their last masterpiece, 1991's Achtung Baby, U2's records have mostly been mediocre at best. 

Pop (1997), How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb (2004), No Line on the Horizon (2009), Songs of Innocence (2014).

Meh, meh, meh and meh.


Still, enough time had passed since Songs of Innocence--whose 2015 tour featuring futuristic video technology chronicling the band members' early days was brilliant, as was The Joshua Tree 30 outing--for me to excitedly pre-order Songs of Experience.

And since getting it last Friday I've listened and listened hoping my initial reactions would be proven premature. But, well...

Meh.

Given the number of other negative or lukewarm reviews I've seen, I'm clearly not the only one who thinks so, though to be fair I've also seen Songs of Experience effusively praised by some publications.

While I'm comfortable with @@@ (out of 5), that may actually overstate my current enjoyment, abetted by some degree of expectation that--much as the 2015 tour did for Songs of Innocence tracks like "Iris (Hold Me Close)" and "Song for Someone"--next year's live presentation will heighten my regard for new tunes like "Red Flag Day," "The Showman (Little More Better)" and "Love Is Bigger than Anything In Its Way," that seem professional if not thrilling.

But right now, I would say there are only two "songs of experience" I really like, and it's likely neither of these would make a 25-song Best of U2 Spotify playlist.

"You're the Best Thing About Me" is a nice, straightforward love song that reaches for anthemic heights, but I'm not sure it equals "Mysterious Ways" or "Gloria," let alone the sonic imagination of "With or Without You."

"Get Out of Your Own Way" did make my Best of 2017 playlist, and is my favorite cut on the album, but with an overproduced sheen that lacks the sonic blast of "Wire," "In God's Country" or any of the band's truly greatest hits (like "Pride," "Sunday Bloody Sunday," etc.).

Part of me knows such comparisons are a bit unfair, or at least rather trite. For I don't think there is any major rock artist in history whose songs created past the age of say 40--obviously roughly, when it comes to bands--consistently outshine those written in younger days.

This doesn't mean I haven't liked much of what Bruce Springsteen or Bob Dylan or Paul McCartney or Pearl Jam or others have recorded on the downslope of their careers, but like U2, their pinnacle brilliance came far earlier. (Lesser-known favorites of mine like Willie Nile and Alejandro Escovedo have been better with maturity, but mainly due less familiar or more sparse earlier outputs.)

With U2, I suspect they just try too hard to create something profound, and it winds up meandering around your head rather than ever just punching you in the gut.

My guess is that if you locked Bono, Edge, Adam and Larry in a garage with a cassette recorder and said "write a song called, "Feed the Poor" in under an hour," I would like the result way more than overwrought SoE tomes like "Lights of Home" and "Landlady," or thumping rockers with nothing to say, "American Soul" and "The Blackout."

At least with Songs of Innocence, I learned--or was reminded--of U2's penchant for The Ramones, the repercussions from the death of Bono's mom when he was 14, that he grew up on "Cedarwood Road" in Dublin and has loved his wife, Ali, since childhood.

Here, any thematic "Experience" is muddled.

Bono wrote profuse liner notes, but honestly, I can't get through them.

Supposedly, Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience were conceived in tandem, but I don't know how far any of the SoE tunes date or, for the most part, their impetus.

Between being on an aircraft with a failed engine, getting badly hurt in a Central Park and having some kind of serious health scare in 2016 that I've seen referenced but not specified, Bono has certainly faced his own mortality. And a desire to loop social urgency born from the Brexit vote and Trump election into new material was said to further push back the new album.

But beyond Bono beginning "Lights of Home" with the lyric, "I shouldn't be here cause I should be dead," I'm really not gleaning much insight about his experiences, or the world's.

Opening the album is "Love is All We Have Left" and nearly closing it is "Love Is Bigger Than Anything in Its Way." Not bad thoughts, but not great songs either.

I'll take "The Three Sunrises" any day.

And while comparisons to the past may well be unfair, the real problem isn't that these songs are horrible at face value (for the most part), they're just uninspired. Especially next to what U2 once created.

"The Little Things That Give You Away" is one of the better songs on the new set, but in a similar stylistic vein I much prefer a song they've never even officially released, "North and South of the River." (Another great rarity, "Mercy," is also better than anything here.)

Anyway, I really wanted to like Songs of Experience, even if U2's track record over the past 25 years would suggest otherwise (at least in terms of songs that made it onto albums).

And I have enjoyed exploring it.

I don't think it's terrible, just forgettable. Probably even disposable.

But of course, I still can't wait to see U2 again next May.

Perhaps that will make the Experience a bit better.

Friday, December 18, 2015

Unstill Current: 35 Years Downstream, Bruce Springsteen's 'The River' Continues to Overflow [Spotify Playlist at bottom]

Box Set Review

Bruce Springsteen
The Ties That Bind:
The River Collection
featuring The River album,
numerous outtakes,
a new documentary and
a classic concert DVD
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The River, initially released on October 17, 1980, two days after my 12th birthday, was the first Bruce Springsteen album I ever owned.

I probably didn't buy the double-LP set immediately, but as "Hungry Heart" hit the Top 10 in early December--the Boss' first song to do so--it likely wasn't too long thereafter.

Though I hadn't made a point of adding Born to Run or Darkness on the Edge of Town to our family's record collection, I undoubtedly already knew the anthemic "Born to Run" and have never forgotten hearing some WXRT DJs discussing the "poor man wanna be rich, rich man wanna be king, and a king ain't satisfied till he rules everything" lyric from "Badlands" (off Darkness) while visiting Terri Hemmert on a Junior High assignment to "interview someone in a job you admire." (It's possible this was after I already owned The River.)

I believe at the time I was already familiar with the concept of an album as an artistic statement beyond a mere collection of songs; either my dad or I had bought albums like the Eagles' Hotel California, Led Zeppelin's In Through the Out Door, Cheap Trick's At Budokan, ELO's Out of the Blue and Pink Floyd's The Wall for the household, the latter two acquainting me with double albums that weren't soundtracks like Saturday Night Fever or Grease.

Still, with the stark photograph of Bruce on the cover, I remember there being something intense, even intimidating, about The River beyond the poppy lilt of "Hungry Heart," itself a song chronicling familial desertion, loneliness and longing.

Certainly the album's sheer sprawl contributed to this, and I'm sure sides 1&2 of the first LP became much more worn than sides 3&4 of the second.

Reviews I recall reading praised the album's duality of bar band songs and pensive, poignant ballads, the latter coming more so on the second half, so I almost instantly appreciated the album's scope on some level, but it's taken me years to fully digest it.

And even today the low-key, loss-themed, character-driven storytelling of songs like "Point Blank," "Fade Away," "Stolen Car," "Wreck on the Highway" and "Drive All Night" can make for dour listening, en masse.

I now have a far better understanding of Springsteen's oeuvre than I did at 12, and get that the bleak ballads, including "The River" and "Independence Day" not only provided a sonic and/or thematic counterpoint to rockers like "The Ties That Bind," "Jackson Cage," "Two Hearts," "Out in the Streets," "Cadillac Ranch," "Ramrod" and "Hungry Heart," they more so reflected Bruce's ongoing commentary on blue collar America (and his appreciation of classic country music).

Springsteen has often spoken of consciously wanting each of his albums to make a cohesive statement. Not as a concept album, or even clearly defined in its messaging, but perhaps in a more ambiguous overall sense of tonality and feel.

Which helps to explain why he has left oodles of material many others would kill for on the cutting room floor.

Or more accurately, the Columbia Records' vaults.

As a rather hardcore Springsteen fanatic ever since The River, who came to own every album, EP and DVD he officially released, and was aware that several notable songs were never included on his studio albums yet played live or otherwise disseminated--"Because the Night," "Fire," "Pink Cadillac," "Seeds" and "Be True" among them--my mind was seriously blown with the 1998 release of the 4-disc rarities set, Tracks.

It wasn't just that there were 66 songs that, for the most part, had never been released, and in most cases were completely unknown to me.

Sure, there were a handful of alternate versions, such as an acoustic "Born in the U.S.A.," and well-known B-sides like "Pink Cadillac," but even more fascinating than being able to hear "Lost Springsteen" songs I had long heard about--"Rendezvous," "Thundercrack"--was the preponderance of material that was truly revelatory in every sense.

It felt as if 20 years after making Jaws, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Raiders of the Lost Ark and E.T., Steven Spielberg suddenly shared a bunch of similarly splendid movies that he shot around the same time but never bothered to release.

Most notable on Tracks was its second disc, which was chock full of buried treasures, the bulk of which were outtakes from The River.

These included "Restless Nights," "Roulette," "Dollhouse," "Where the Bands Are," "Loose Ends," "Living on the Edge of the World," "Take 'Em as They Come," "Be True," "Ricky Wants a Man of Her Own," "I Wanna Be with You" and "Mary Lou," along with "Bring on the Night," which was on Disc 1 of Tracks

Almost all of these are Grade "A," or at worst "A-/B+/B" songs, and Springsteen has worked some into his concerts in subsequent years, beginning with the 1999-2000 Reunion Tour with the E Street Band.

(For the record, I have seen Springsteen live 44 times dating back to 1984, with 40 shows since 1999; I now have tickets to two upcoming gigs supporting The River box set.)

On October 17, 2015, the 35th anniversary of The River, it was announced that a box set called The Ties That Bind: The River Collection would be released in early December, analogous to how Born to Run and Darkness on the Edge of Town had previously been commemorated.

The Darkness box set had been highlighted by The Promise, two CDs featuring 22 songs that didn't make it onto the 1978 album, which was notoriously delayed by legal issues between Springsteen and his manager.

But although many of the songs on The Promise are stellar, most are quite sonically distinct from what would wind up on Darkness, or had been on 1975's Born to Run.

It essentially plays like a very good album Bruce might have released in 1976-77, but not the equal of what came before or after, and with a few exceptions, the songs didn't make me wish they had been included on Darkness on the Edge of Town.

In other words, that so much of The Promise long sat on a shelf was a bit more comprehensible than the clandestiny of so many stellar River outtakes.

And now there are even more, uncovered.

The first two CDs of The Ties That Bind set appropriately contain a remastered version of The River--not so important to me as I got such a thing last year as part of The Album Collection: 1973-1984, though both new editions sound superb--and the third reveals a single-disc album called The Ties That Bind that Springsteen had actually turned into Columbia in 1979 before pulling it back, deciding it "wasn't big enough."

This is an interesting listen as it includes some great songs that would make it onto the 2-disc River, including "The Ties That Bind," "Hungry Heart," "The River" and "The Price You Pay," along with alternate versions of River songs "Stolen Car" and "You Can Look (But You Better Not Touch)" and three tunes that wouldn't make the official album: "Be True," "Loose End" (sometime pluralized, sometimes not) and the never before heard "Cindy."

Hearing The Ties That Bind now, I believe Springsteen was right to take it back and work for another year on what would become The River.

As he explains in a new documentary included in the box set--the doc by longtime Springsteen associate Thom Zimny is also titled The Ties That Bind--as well as in an interview with fansite Backstreets.com, with The River Bruce was trying to give listeners a sense of his incendiary but sonically diverse concerts.
"I'd gotten to the point where I wanted to include everything that I did, from the party material to my character studies, and I didn't think I could do that successfully on one album at that time," Springsteen recently told Backstreets.com's Chris Phillips.
Hence the bar-band rockers were mixed together with the deliberate character studies, most written in the wake of "The River" song, which set the tone in terms of Springsteen stepping "into a character's shoes and trying to get your listeners to walk in those shoes for awhile."

As mentioned above, most of the the ballads are about blue collar Americans struggling with hardship, broken relationships, longing and similarly poignant matters, so I perceive this great lyric from "The River" as serving as something of a thematic thread:
"Is a dream a lie if it don't come true or is it something worse?"
So the box set, accompanying materials and related press have given me a newfound appreciation for The River and why Springsteen made some of the choices he did.

In serving as the official bridge between Darkness on the Edge of Town and Nebraska, which was followed by Born in the USA and Tunnel of Love, The River, as it stands, makes a lot of sense.

And it's also worth noting that from still somewhat regional arena-sized stardom, The River took Springsteen to superstardom before Born in the USA took him to megastardom.

But the quality of the outtakes continues to boggle the mind.

Even more so, as in addition to including the 11 River sessions songs that were on Disc 2 of Tracks--for some reason, "Bring on the Night" is missing--the Outtakes CD of The Ties That Bind box set includes 11 additional outtakes that weren't previously released. (Though the instrumental "Paradise by the 'C,' powerfully featuring the late saxophonist Clarence Clemons, was heard in live form on the Live 1975-1985 box set.)

And most of these are also terrific, including "Meet Me in the City," "Party Lights," "Night Fire," "The Man Who Got Away," "Little White Lies," "Whitetown" and, IMO, the best ballad from this era outside of "The River," a somber, haunting vignette called "Stray Bullet."

That there are this many high quality outtakes, including 12 ("Cindy" being the one not on the Outtakes disc) that are just now being shared with the public 35+ years after Springsteen not only wrote, but in most cases, fully produced them--many with some rather nifty instrumental and/or vocal effects--is rather astonishing.

Not least from a creative ego standpoint.

I can't really consider myself an artist, but whether in the professional realm of advertising copywriting, or writing articles for this blog, or being an avid photographer, occasional amateur poet, greeting card maker and more, for me wanting to share what I've made has always accompanied the act of creation.

So for Bruce Springsteen to have written and recorded so many stellar songs, and then contentedly put them on the shelf only to revisit decades later, is anathema to my own innate need to have others see what I've done.

Including "Bring on the Night," but leaving out alternate versions--and one outtake, "Mary Lou," that shares many similar lyrics with another, "Be True," as Bruce was prone to re-use bits and pieces in finalizing what worked best--I count 25 "extra" songs that well could have been put on 20-song River, or compiled on a follow-up double studio album.

And these finished but largely forgotten songs--a few supposedly have re-recorded vocals by Bruce in 2015, but I can't tell which--were culled from (as stated in the documentary) 95 solo home demos Springsteen recorded before convening the E Street Band, and 104 demos with the band.

Although some of the outtakes are demonstrably better than songs that made The River--in the documentary, Bruce himself mentions the most obvious oversight, the unsubstantial "Crush on You" being in and the phenomenal, blazing "Roulette" being out--even now it's hard to second guess the product that hit record stores on October 17, 1980.

Sure, it's been fun on Spotify--where the entire 52-song The Ties That Bind: The River Collection can freely be streamed--to make playlists that mix together album songs and outtakes into The River that could have been, with a variety of double-album iterations.

But simply to pick one's 20 favorite songs from the 46 different ones (including "Bring on the Night," though again, it's not in this box set) is a different exercise than to appreciate Springsteen's vision for what it was.

For other than "Stray Bullet," there aren't any meditative ballads among the outtakes, many of which are uptempo rockers with redundancy in tone & theme, to each other and album tracks. While several of these, both previously known and not, are first-rate--"Roulette," "Dollhouse," "Where the Bands Are," "Take It As it Comes," "Restless Nights," "Party Lights," "Loose End," "Be True," etc., etc.,--few are as musically distinctive as "Hungry Heart," "Out in the Streets," "Cadillac Ranch" and other uptempo tracks that wound up on vinyl.

And though in the documentary, Bruce himself notes that "The River," "Independence Day," "Fade Away," "Stolen Car," "Drive All Night," "Wreck on the Highway," meant including several songs that are "long and slow" and pretty much mandating a double-album, not only did they help strike a balance reflective of his concerts, and served to bring greater sonic diversity to River Tour concerts, they pointed in the direction Springsteen would take on Nebraska and Tunnel of Love.

So in sum, the audio portion of the new box set serves to enhance for me the original River album and the astonishing amount of quality music that was long hidden to history.

Whether you are a hardcore Bruce Springsteen fan like me (or beyond), an avid but less obsessive
appreciator or a relative newbie to his brilliant oeuvre, there is a substantial amount here with which to happily acquaint yourself.

But at $92 on Amazon, is The Ties That Bind: The River Collection worth buying, as a gift to yourself or Boss fans you know? 

Though owning the physical set--which through Amazon comes with a free MP3 Rip of the whole thing--delights me, it's hard for me to answer in the affirmative to the question above, especially as you can hear everything on Spotify.

Adding to its value and appeal, the box set includes a coffee table book with 200 rare photos and a reproduced (though sadly not in full) notebook of Bruce's in which he hand-wrote lyrics. Oddly, the printed lyrics to the River album, which were part of the original LP set, are not provided anywhere in the box's materials.

But along with the 4 CDs of audio, there is some fine video.

Unlike similar films for the Born to Run and Darkness on the Edge of Town retrospectives, the 54-minute documentary by Zimny--which was shown on HBO--does not have the benefit of studio footage shot as The River was being recorded. So most of the doc is a modern-day interview (by Zimny) of Bruce, holding an acoustic guitar, which he uses to play and sing lovely versions of "Two Hearts," "The River," "Independence Day" and more.

And then there is a concert DVD, or Blu-ray, of a Bruce Springsteen & the E Street band show in Tempe, Arizona on November 5, 1980.

On the one hand, this is outstanding, as Zimny has newly edited together multi-camera footage and excellent sound, and although I can say this about almost point in time--including hopefully the upcoming tour--Bruce & the ESB in 1980 were as good live as anyone who has ever played rock 'n roll.

But while the concert film is a wonderful document and phenomenal in what it depicts, because at the time the concert wasn't being filmed for full release, 10 of the 34 performed that night at Arizona State University are not included on the DVD. (There are also 5 songs, though not unique ones, included from a tour rehearsal.)

Thus is the passion of a fanatical Springsteen aficionado.

He releases a pristine-sounding collection of 52 mostly-great songs, including 11 you never knew about, plus a book, notebook, documentary and concert video, and you can help but be a bit chagrined that "Backstreets," "Darkness on the Edge of Town" and other songs you've heard & seen in myriad other packages were unavoidably left out.

But then the ties that bind are mightily strong and steadfast for Springsteen devotees.

And The Ties That Bind only tightens, and deepens, that grip.

I truly can't wait to hear The River, in full, and hopefully a good chunk of outtakes played live in the weeks ahead.

---
Compiling 24 prime River outtakes included in the Ties That Bind box set, along "Bring on the Night," (from Tracks, Disc 1), this is a playlist imagining a double-album follow-up to The River, entitled Night Fire.

Although lacking the fast/slow balance of The River, I think it's nonetheless filled with great music, and may even have a few too many songs than would have fit on 4 sides of vinyl. Given how important song sequencing has always been to Springsteen, I'm imagining this as 4 sides of music, not just 25 songs.  

Sunday, May 03, 2015

Whoo-Hoo! Blur is Back and 'The Magic Whip' Offers Flavorful New Twists -- Album Review

Album Review

Blur
The Magic Whip
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I love Blur and I love this album, well beyond simply being happy that it--and the original band--exists, 12 years after the last, 3/4 of Blur, studio release.

In a variety of ways, The Magic Whip reminds me of The Next Day, David Bowie's 2013 album that also came seemingly out of the blue.

Neither album quite appoaches or overtakes its artist's glorious past, in part due to the lack of any deliriously catchy singles, and The Magic Whip is unlikely to convert many who have never much cared about--or for--Blur.

But like The Next Day, this is an extremely enjoyable and accomplished album that seems unconcerned about resurrecting the past while abetting a brilliant oeuvre by focusing--however unexpectedly--on the present.

Not altogether unlike Bowie on his last album, or its own frontman and lyricist, Damon Albarn, on his 2014 solo record, Everyday Robots, Blur seems largely content to traipse in observational songs with unrushed, relatively low-key soundscapes. Though this album is substantially more musically muscular than Albarn's solo turn. 

Like Ray Davies and Paul Weller before him, Albarn has long penned lyrical commentaries on British life--perhaps why the band never really "broke" America--often with a moody, dour or simply softer tone.

But rather than reminding of quieter '90s gems like "This Is a Low" or "End of a Century," songs like "New World Towers" and "Ghost Ship" are more in the vein of Albarn's Everyday Robots, extending his focus on technological isolation and even desolation

"Ice Cream Man," from which the album's title derives, is propelled by electronic blips, while the rather Bowiesque "Thought I Was a Spaceman" may remind thematically of "Space Oddity" or "Ashes to Ashes," but is much more sonically aligned with "Where Are We Now?" off The Next Day.

But as with the terrific Blur albums from their initial 1990s heyday--Modern Life is Rubbish, Parklife, The Great Escape and more--part of the beauty of The Magic Whip is the diversity of tones and textures across the 12 songs. 

Nothing here quite has the sugary pop rush of "Country House," "Tracy Jacks," "Parklife" or other gems that helped the band (almost) rule BritPop in the '90s. (Oasis having made a much bigger dent in America, even if the battle at home was rather close.)

Only "Ong Ong," with Albarn's lilting "la la la's" and simple "I wanna be with you" refrain, has a true buoyancy, though it's great to hear Graham Coxon's guitar again--he was absent for 2003's Think Tank--especially on songs like "Lonesome Street" and "I Broadcast" that show well into their individual 40s, Blur can still rock when they want to.

Yet while I was admittedly somewhat more enamored with Oasis 20 years ago--despite buying Modern Life is Rubbish, Parklife and 1997's self-titled Blur album at the time--in having gotten wholeheartedly into Blur over the past 10, it's now obvious why Blur was always the superior artist.

Then, and now, Albarn, Coxon, bassist Alex James and drummer Dave Rowntree were seemingly less interested in being straightforward--and perhaps resultingly, less appealing to Americans--than in being perpetually innovative and, to anyone who took the time to explore, far more interesting.

That The Magic Whip came together out of some ad hoc recording the band did while stuck in Hong Kong a few years back--they have played live shows and even toured recently, which is what found them delayed in Hong Kong when some concerts were cancelled--with over a year passing before Coxon and longtime producer Stephen Street fleshed out what they had captured and impressed Albarn enough to convince the perpetually project-laden singer that a stellar album could be had, makes the new album all the more impressive.

As has been conveyed by others, it sounds like Blur of old, but not like old Blur. Songs like the beautiful "Pyongyang" clearly derive from the locale of the recordings--Albarn returned there to write lyrics--but don't lose the universality Albarn has long captured within London.

While I have looked forward to this album ever since it was announced barely 2 months ago, and have listened to all the pre-released songs--including the stellar "Go Out" and "There Are Too Many of Us"--I've really only had a week to digest The Magic Whip in full.

That I like it as much as I do is certainly delighting, especially accompanied by the sense that time and familiarity will only make me appreciate it even more.

Blur is back and The Magic Whip is clearly a tasty treat. And for that I say, as the band sang on 1997's "Song 2," probably still their best-known in America:

Whoo-hoo!

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Hammering It Home: Rediscovering the Brilliance of Led Zeppelin Easy as I, II, III

Album Reissue Reviews
and Artist Appreciation

Led Zeppelin I - @@@@@
Led Zeppelin II - @@@@@
Led Zeppelin III - @@@@@

When I was less than three months old, Led Zeppelin released their eponymous debut album (in January 1969).

By the time I turned two, the British hard rock quartet had put out two more studio albums. (Being that prolific was once par for the course, but most artists today go at least two years, if not several more, between albums.)

I don't think my folks adorned my crib with black light posters nor played "Whole Lotta Love" the way some parents use Mozart as baby background music, so I wasn't really weaned on the great Zep and I was too young to follow them through the bulk of the '70s.

Yet I still remember my dad--a bit incongruently, given his preference for opera and Broadway--adding the paper sack-sheathed In Through the Out Door to the family's record collection soon after its release in August 1979.

And as I was already aware of at least "Stairway to Heaven"--due to it often claiming the top spot or taking silver behind "Hey Jude" in Greatest Songs of All-Time countdowns on The Loop, WLS and/or WMET--Led Zeppelin has never not been a major contributor to the soundtrack of my life once I first came to know of their music.

Even before I could find it online, the full-page Tribune ad announcing four Zeppelin shows at Chicago Stadium--published Sept. 25, 1980, the day drummer John Bonham would die and the band essentially end--has been vividly etched in my mind (though I was still too young to hope to attend).

I don't know if I've yet screamed louder than I did in alerting a friend that "LED ZEPPELIN'S ON!!!!!!!!!!!" during the LiveAid telecast in 1985 (Jimmy Page, Robert Plant and John Paul Jones reunited to play three songs with a pair of drummers, including Phil Collins; full clip here).

When I took guitar lessons briefly as a teen, "Rock 'n Roll" was the first song I wanted to learn. (It was too difficult so I settled for "Born to Run.")

Led Zeppelin IV was definitely among the very first batch of CDs I bought, and if Zeppelin II wasn't, it wasn't far behind.

Led Zeppelin posters long adorned my bedroom at home, and in my freshman dorm room at NIU, a large band tapestry was the most conspicuous decoration.
And as a college senior in December 1988, I opted to blow off studying for a final exam in order to organize an excursion from DeKalb to Rosemont to see a Plant solo show for the first time (which included a number of Zeppelin songs).

So it's never been as though I really needed convincing or reminding to appreciate just how great Led Zeppelin was.

Which makes it all the more astonishing that each time something has prompted me to listen to Led Zeppelin more heavily or closely, my appreciation has only grown...considerably.

Though I had owned most of their 9 studio albums (including 1982's Coda, which I bought on vinyl as soon it was released) and The Song Remains The Same live soundtrack on LP, cassette and/or CD, when the Led Zeppelin box set was released in 1990--remastering and re-sequencing 4 discs worth of their songs--I bought and loved it. And I also bought the 2-disc complementary set that rounded out my having every one of their known studio tracks in an aurally sufficient form.

Or so I thought. But before I get to the audibly astonishing reissues of I, II and III, I'm having fun remembering all the times I was acutely re-Zeppelined.

Like both times I saw Page & Plant together in concert in the '90s, which included hefty doses of Zep in the set lists.
But even more acutely informing my regard for Zeppelin as a live act--The Song Remains the Same movie being marred by long, dreamy offstage vignettes--was the Led Zeppelin DVD set from 2003.

Even late-career footage from a performance at Knebworth in 1979 was mind-blowing, as were several earlier stage clips.

A live 3-disc compilation album--How the West Was Won--released around the time of the DVD was also tremendous, as was the remastered and expanded The Song Remains the Same soundtrack issued in 2007. The 1997 BBC Sessions set was also quite revelatory and delightful.

And in December 2007, the three surviving members of Led Zeppelin plus John Bonham's son Jason shook up the world by reforming for a concert at London's O2 Arena. Unfortunately I couldn't get there--good thing I didn't really try, as the initial scheduled date wound up being postponed by a few weeks--but reviews were rather laudatory and I got chills seeing clips of "Good Times Bad Times," "Stairway to Heaven," "Rock 'n Roll," "Kashmir" and more that hit YouTube the next morning.

Although supposed plans for a reunion tour have since been scuttled by Robert Plant's resistance--while I most definitely would attend, I respect his just letting the legacy be--the O2 concert was released on Blu-Ray, DVD and CD in late 2012 and showed the show to be truly sensational.

Around the same time, Led Zeppelin became Kennedy Center Honors recipients, and along with much else on the telecast, I loved this tribute rendition of "Stairway to Heaven" by Heart, Jason Bonham and two choirs that made Robert Plant weep. The following summer I would see Heart and Bonham pay more extensive tribute in a show at Ravinia (my review).

And though Zeppelin were relative latecomers to allowing their catalog to be heard through Spotify, when it appeared late last year, it enabled me to revisit each of their albums after more routinely having listened to box set and live compilations.

I was especially surprised by how much better Led Zeppelin III is than I ever knew.

Excepting the opening "The Immigrant Song," it largely eschews thunderous, heavy riff songs more prevalent on the band's earlier and later albums for several folksy acoustic guitar-driven songs.

So as a kid, and long since, I thought--or likely more so, assumed--that it was a lesser, more boring album.

Hearing it, intact, through Spotify helped remedy this ridiculous notion.

And my regard for Led Zeppelin III--which I now consider a masterpiece on par with any other of their albums--has only further blossomed with the brilliant sounding remastered CD recently released along with I and II. (The others will come later this year and next.)

I am rather certain that the three albums--I bought the deluxe (though not most elaborate) reissues, which each included a disc of bonus material--are individually and collectively better than any new music I will hear this year, and likely greater than releases of any vintage that I acquire in 2014.

Taking its title from an "Immigrant Song" lyric, Hammer of the Gods is a famed biography of Led Zeppelin by Stephen Davis. I've never read it, but find its title rather apt as from the first sledgehammer blow of "Good Times Bad Times" to open Led Zeppelin I, there is something almost otherworldly about how awesome the band was--immediately.

As I wrote about in this piece, the 1960s represents the Renaissance age of rock 'n roll, not just because of all the amazing music that was made, most of it holding up perfectly today. It was a time of what I call a "creative cluster" that had musical geniuses like Bob Dylan, Brian Wilson and Pete Townshend inspiring other geniuses like John Lennon, Paul McCartney and Ray Davies to up their games (and vice-versa).

Jimmy Page, who was a top-tier session guitarist in London while still in high school and would play on records by the Kinks, Who and myriad others, was initially part of a creative cluster of guitar gods within just a single band.

Joining the Yardbirds after Eric Clapton quit, Page suggest his friend Jeff Beck also become a member. Page would write the proto-Zeppelin track "Happenings Ten Years Time Ago" and outside the Yardbirds would record "Beck's Bolero" with a supergroup including Beck, Yardbirds' keyboardist Nicky Hopkins, Who drummer Keith Moon and bassist John Paul Jones, who was also a first-rate session man.

The "Beck's Bolero" sessions gave Page the idea to form a full-time supergroup. Refer to the Wikipedia entries on Led Zeppelin, Jimmy Page and Robert Plant for more detail on how the group's formation transpired, but in 1968 Page had asked a singer named Terry Reid to join his new band.

Reid recommended Plant, at that time an all-but-unknown 20-year-old singer in Band of Joy. Plant in turn suggested Band of Joy drummer, John Bonham. John Paul Jones rounded out Led Zeppelin.

Everything has to start somewhere, but from the first verse of "Good Times Bad Times," Plant already sounds like the quintessential hard rock vocalist for which he would become revered. And I've yet to hear a drummer as powerful as John Bonham. Looking at it now, Led Zeppelin seems like the perfect melding of four brilliant musicians, but who knows what would have happened if Terry Reid had accepted Page's offer.

So although the months preceding Led Zeppelin I's release on January 10, 1969 saw Jeff Beck's groundbreaking Truth album (with Rod Stewart on vocals), the debut of heavy rockers Deep Purple and advancements in guitar playing and production from Eric Clapton (in Cream) and Jimi Hendrix, there is still a sense that the sonic blast of "Good Times Bad Times" came out of nowhere.

While I would now rank I behind II and III, it is nonetheless one of the best, most auspicious debut albums in rock history.

Second cut "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You" is also phenomenal, "Dazed and Confused" and "Communication Breakdown" remain classics and while Page showcases--and sometimes pilfers from--his love of Chicago blues on "You Shook Me," "I Can't Quit You Baby" and others, the acoustic instrumental "Black Mountain Side" and slow groove of "Your Time is Gonna Come" demonstrate his and the band's great versatility.

With "Whole Lotta Love," "What Is and What Should Never Be," "The Lemon Song," "Thank You," "Heartbreaker," "Living Loving Maid," "Ramble On," "Moby Dick" and "Bring It On Home," Led Zeppelin II remains perfect from beginning to end. And as with the other two reissues, the audio quality of the remastered CD makes the album sound better than ever.

In buying the CDs from Amazon, I got digital versions instantly. These sounded great, but the CDs are truly heavenly. Some may question why Page devotes so much time to remastering old songs--and the bonus discs are little more than a curiosity (the live set from Paris that accompanies Led Zeppelin I is the best, but not essential)--but not only did all three reissues debut in Billboard's top 10 last week, speaking as someone who has long known and owned all of the songs included on I, II and III proper, buying these albums anew were well worth my money and have provided considerable delight.

Perhaps most of all for how much I now like Led Zeppelin III. "The Immigrant Song" still sounds holy,
"Celebration Day" and "Out on the Tiles" show that the album isn't otherwise devoid of thunderous guitars and drums, acoustic tracks like "Friends," "That's The Way," "Tangerine" demonstrate Page's great dexterity and the bucking bronco that is "Gallows Pole" stands as one of the 10 best Zeppelin songs ever (along with "The Immigrant Song").

It's somewhat a shame to see Page and Plant throwing media barbs over the former's desire to play live and the latter's resistance to touring with Zeppelin.

Now 70, I think Page should just let it be. But as not only a brilliant guitarist, but Led Zeppelin's erstwhile producer, sonic architect and legacy preserver, I understand why he won't let go of the past.

It's that good.

Yet again.

---
(For a better explanation of the musical advances on Led Zeppelin I, II and III, see this Pitchfork review.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Damon Albarn's 'Everyday Robots' Blurs Line Between Stately and Sleepy -- Album Review

Album Review

Damon Albarn
Everyday Robots
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Spotify link

After repeatedly listening to Damon Albarn's rather muted and contemplative solo album since its release a fortnight ago--when I actually bought the CD despite being able to hear it unfettered through Spotify--I appreciate the quality of the effort.

Both observational about the travails of the digital age and introspective about Albarn's own life, Everyday Robots sounds like much more than a tossed-off project to fill time between reconvening Blur, re-creating Gorillaz, putting together supergroups like The Good, The Bad and the Queen and writing operas such as 2012's Dr. Dee.

For those willing to take the time, there is much here to like. The title track about how "we are everyday robots on our phones," lead single "Lonely Press Play" also about digitized isolation, an upbeat song (the only one) about a baby elephant called "Mr. Tembo"--see video below--and the closing Brian Eno collaboration "Heavy Seas of Love" attest that one of the prime progenitors of BritPop can still write songs both lovely and affecting.

But in full, Everyday Robots is just too sonically dour--in comparison to many of its songs, slower Blur cuts like "This Is a Low," "Death of a Party" and "No Distance Left to Run" are positively lilting--for me to truly enjoy and embrace it. At least as of yet.

I don't know that this is an album I will come back to often, but as I only came to fully appreciate the brilliance of Blur years after their 1990s heyday--in part because Albarn's meditative, heavily Anglo-tinged tunes didn't saturate American shores like those of their more overt rivals Oasis--I wouldn't be too shocked if I increase my esteem for it over time.

At this point I consider Everyday Robots a great album to play as background music at a dinner party attended by musically literate people, but not an album I find truly great in the acute sense.

Appreciating that if Albarn wanted to make a Blur album he would have--with undoubtably much greater sales, especially in the UK--I can't condemn Everyday Robots for being more the album he wanted to make than the one I wanted to hear. (Blur, who hasn't released a full album new material since 2003, supposedly did some studio recording in between concert dates as recent as this January, but no firm album plans have been cited.)

Given my esteem for Albarn--primarily through Blur; I don't know much Gorillaz--I'm glad I sought out and bought his first solo album in a pop vein. As I said above, there is much to like, even appreciate.

Just not enough to love.

---
Here's the new video for "Mr. Tembo," featuring the baby elephant that was the song's inspiration:

Sunday, March 17, 2013

The Man Who Fell to Earth Rises Again: David Bowie's 'The Next Day' Proves Well Worth the Wait -- Album Review

Album Review

David Bowie
The Next Day
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In January 2004, I saw David Bowie in concert twice within three days, at the Rosemont Theatre. I would see him once again a few months later in Milwaukee.

Although at the time I was already a huge, longtime Bowie fan--I saw him in 1990 at Dodger Stadium and wanted to attend his 1983 shows supporting Let's Dance--it was around early '04 that I bought all of his albums I hadn't already owned and really started to delve into the depth of his greatness.

Like many, I imagine, who were too young to truly appreciate Bowie in the 1970s, for several years I was aware of his ever-changing personas, the Ziggy Stardust album and the rock radio hits--many on the ChangesOneBowie collection, the first album of his I owned--like "Space Oddity," "Changes," "Suffragette City," "Rebel Rebel," "Young Americans," "Fame," "Heroes" and "Under Pressure," his great collaboration with Queen.

But it wasn't until I made a point of exploring his full catalog that I discovered just how thoroughly brilliant many of his albums are, from early ones like Hunky Dory and Aladdin Sane (and, of course, Ziggy) to Station to Station and what is known as the 'Berlin trilogy': Low, "Heroes" and Lodger.

Though those albums deserve to be heard in full, I made this Spotify playlist of "Less Showy Bowie" to show you what I mean:


OK, so in early 2004, perhaps more than ever, I was really into David Bowie. Although neither his 2002 album Heathen nor 2003's Reality set the world on fire, critically or commercially, I thought both were quite solid, really enjoyed him live and--like I had or would with The Kinks, The Who and Steely Dan--relished realizing that regardless of my vast fandom primarily via the famous songs, I really only knew the half of it.

Then in June of 2004, while on tour in Europe, Bowie had a heart attack. Following an emergency angioplasty, he seemingly survived sans any reports (that I saw) of his condition remaining grave. But other than a few television appearances over the next couple years, David Bowie disappeared.

From May of 2006 through his 66th birthday on January 8 of this year, there was no new music, no reports of anything in the works and excepting a shot of him at the premiere of son Duncan Jones' 2009 movie, Moon, no present tense photographs I could find on the internet.

On the morning of January 8, amidst some employment angst over a job I would eventually lose, I went to my home computer intending to post a video on Facebook saluting Bowie's birthday (rather than that of Elvis Presley, the same day). (See my 2011/2012 Bowie birthday blog post, with several song videos, here.)

But when I loaded Facebook, I saw the post at right.

Just after midnight, Bowie had shocked the world with news of a brand new song and video--"Where Are We Now"--and a forthcoming album, entitled The Next Day.

Especially as I found the song to be excellent in a subdued, slow-burning sort of way, it was one of the best musical surprises of my lifetime.

Bowie had resurfaced, seemingly healthy, with reports that he had secretly been recording songs for the past two years, but still very much Bowie.

No interviews. No tour announcements. No overblown appearance on the Grammy's.

Just high quality music--including the subsequent "The Stars (Are Out Tonight)--from one of the greatest artists the rock genre has ever produced, coming at a time when there is rather little new stuff that I think is any good, at least in a staying power sort of way.

So how's the new album?

The Next Day has arrived--actually last Tuesday--and it is terrific.

As pretty much every outlet in America--as shown in the Bowie Facebook post at left--and around the world has already conveyed, to some degree or other.

So I won't go through the new album song-by-song and tell you how Bowie's somewhat oblique lyrics pertain to "Heroes," other remnants of his past or his interest in English history.

Many others have provided this depth and insight, much better than I can.

What I will tell you is that I love The Next Day, not just because it sounds like the all too rare work of a great, professional musical artist demonstrating what that means, but because for a guy who hasn't put out a new album in 10 years, the whole thing--like "Where Are We Now"--just feels so beautifully unhurried.

Co-produced by Bowie and Tony Visconti, who did likewise for the Berlin trilogy--though Brian Eno is more famously noted as his collaborator on those albums--the new disc opens with the title track, which rocks pretty strongly and wouldn't seem out-of-place on "Heroes" or perhaps more so, Lodger.

But casual listeners, especially in this iTunes age of selective songs in lieu of cohesive albums, may find the slow dirge of track 2, "Dirty Boys," a bit boring.

Yet it is exactly what reminds one that at 66, after many thought he was terminally ill and/or professionally retired, Mr. Bowie is--still remarkably--doing exactly what he wants to do.

There are a number of upbeat-sounding songs that come at the tail end of the album--"I'd Rather Be High," "Dancing Out in Space," "How Does the Grass Grow?" and "(You Could) Set the World on Fire"--that, if sequenced earlier, could really get The Next Day off to a rollicking start, to better dazzle those without the patience to listen all the way through, or repeatedly.

Don't get me wrong; as is, The Next Day isn't a tough listen, it's just not front-loaded nor encompasses anything as accessible as, say, "Rebel Rebel" or "Let's Dance."

But I enjoyed it the first time I heard it in full, and several spins later am liking it even more.

At this point, I don't think it quite reaches the heights of "Heroes," Low or Lodger, Station to Station, Ziggy, Hunky Dory, Aladdin Sane, etc. But I'm guessing that the German trilogy albums weren't instantly to everyone's liking--they had no hit singles except "Heroes"--but all are now considered masterpieces that perhaps define Bowie even more than the hits or the costumes.

Many years down the road, I imagine The Next Day will continue to hold up quite well. If it isn't quite the finest moment in an extraordinary career, it's already one of the most welcome--and best--comebacks in rock history.
---
 
This is definitely an album worth owning--and I have bought the CD though I could hear it in full on Spotify--but if you want to listen first, here's your chance:

Sunday, October 07, 2012

Recent Albums Fail to Transcend Great Expectations

September served as a pretty robust reminder that suggestions of rock ‘n’ roll being dead are greatly exaggerated.

In addition to attending nine concerts, including some pretty terrific ones—Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Costello, Peter Gabriel, Slash, Maximo Park; click to see my reviews—I bought more new compact discs in a given month than I have in years.

These include works by five longtime favorite artists and one relatively rare newer act that intrigues me.

And especially in having read press/Amazon reviews and/or heard emphatic personal recommendations about each that ranged from strong to scintillating, I had great expectations for these recent albums:


Bob Dylan – Tempest
Bob Mould – Silver Age
Dinosaur Jr. – I Bet on Sky
The Killers – Battle Born
Green Day – Uno!
Band of Horses – Mirage Rock

So I would like nothing more than to tell you that these are all brilliant new releases, with each being a must-have addition to your music library. Except for my relatively nascent appreciation of Band of Horses, all of these are artists I have loved for a long time, and though none would qualify as complete unknowns, Dinosaur Jr. and Bob Mould have long been personal favorites despite never filling hockey arenas.

But with the caveat that I’ve come to realize that I sometimes don’t come to properly appreciate an album until it’s been around awhile, so far, after listening to each of these albums a good number of times, I can’t call any of them phenomenal.

Unless you are already an avowed fan of the given artists, I wouldn’t recommend that you spend any money—or much time—on their latest albums. And even if, like me, you are a hardcore fan, I don’t know that much here will surpass your regard for these acts’ past output or considerably enhance their oeuvre.

That’s not to say each—and all—of them don’t have merits. It’s hard for me to calibrate exact ratings for each album in “a pretty good but not nearly their best nor truly essential” sort of way—which helps to explain this combined review post.

But on the Seth Saith @@@@@ rating scale, each album likely merits @@@1/2 to @@@@.

Which doesn’t mean that you should avoid them like the plague or cringe if you happen to hear any of their songs. Each of the albums has moments that comfortably remind of the artist’s past glories, but relatively little that has me saying “I’d rather listen to this than the stuff I’ve loved in the past.”

Take for example, Bob Mould’s Silver Age. Before I heard the album itself, I heard—and read—great things about it, from heavy-duty Mould fans, the music press (see MetaCritic) and numerous glowing reviews on Amazon, where it currently has a 5-star composite rating. The common thread that runs through many of the reviews is that the new disc is Mould’s best work in years and harkens back to Copper Blue, a terrific album he released in 1992 under  the auspices of Sugar—his second great power trio, following Hüsker Dü.

But while Silver Age’s 10 songs all feature the searing guitars that epitomize many of Mould’s best and most emblematic songs, including several of those on Copper Blue, they suffer from a sameness. Not just in comparison with Mould’s past, but among each other. All of them blister and burn in a way that makes each enjoyable enough—conceivably even more so in concert—but none are melodically or musically distinct enjoy to elevate to the level of Copper Blue’s “Helpless,” “If I Can’t Change Your Mind,” “Hoover Dam” or “The Act We Act.”

Even a song like “Needle Hits E,” which was left off Copper Blue, is a more enjoyable listen than anything here, as are “Your Favorite Thing,” “Underneath Days” and Egooverride,” to name just a few other hard-charging songs from Mould’s Sugar and solo incarnations.

Similarly, there are several not unpleasant songs from Dinosaur Jr., The Killers and Green Day, but even some of the better ones—”Don’t Pretend You Didn’t Know,” “Miss Atomic Bomb” and “Nuclear Family,” respectively—would have a hard time playlist-supplanting “Out There,” “This River is Wild” or “Armitage Shanks,” to name a few tunes that don’t even quite top the artists’ back catalogs. I didn’t cite The Killers’ new “Runaways” just now because I do think it is a true standout, on par with their best, but I’m not even sure it doesn’t just “sound a lot like” The Killers at their best.

The Green Day and Killers albums are two that I was most looking forward to, and perhaps with time their virtues will become more pronounced, but without going through them song-by-song, both records tend to bore me more than thrill me. Neither makes me eager to throw it on at any time, which a great album should. 

There are some nice tunes on Band of Horses’ Mirage Rock—“Knock Knock,” “Heartbreak on the 101”—and I think they do enough to justify my interest among a (to my awareness) uninspiring crop of relatively recent vintage rock bands, but it’s also already become an album I listen to infrequently. Part of the problem is that rather than doing much rocking, most of the songs settle into an easy going Eaglesque groove.

Even Dylan’s Tempest, which garnered some @@@@@ reviews, isn’t an album I find myself putting on for pleasure. Yes, there are a number of quality songs from the old master, enough to make the album essential for Dylan disciples, but thus far Tempest isn’t making me forget Time Out of Mind, let alone approaching Highway 61 Revisited, Blonde on Blonde, Blood on the Tracks or much else from Mr. Zimmerman’s glorious past.

I know I have friends who are loving Tempest, and I’m sure there are fans of each of these artists/albums who would vociferously avow that they’re far beyond run of the mill.

Of course, my opinion doesn’t matter; only yours does and my regard for any or all of these albums may change over time. But though it's possible I'm being too harsh, I recently went back to a couple other somewhat disappointing 2012 releases from longtime personal favorites--Alejandro Escovedo - Big Station; The Smashing Pumpkins - Oceania--and neither convinced me anew that they stand with these great artists' very best work.

So while The Killers' second album Sam's Town is an example of one I later came to really love despite not doing so initially, at this point I suspect that none of the six recent albums I bought will stand--at least to me--as paragons of the phenomenal from acts that have previously achieved that apex.