Listening Booth: Ry Cooder, “The UFO Has Landed”

Ry Cooder – The UFO Has Landed (2008)
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It’s a hundred degrees in the shade, easy, and you’ve been hiding from the worst of the heat in this tiny bordertown cantina for most of the afternoon. Full of cervezas, you ask the bartender where the bathroom is; he laughs at you and gestures toward the alley out back. Stumbling outside, you steady yourself against the wall with one hand while doing your business, and as you close your eyes, enjoying the sweet release, you catch a few distant, gentle strains of the most beautiful music you’ve ever heard. It’s only when you’ve finished and zipped up, intent on finding the source of the magical sound, that you notice the stranger. He’s slumped against the wall, maybe ten feet away, draped in a poncho, with a bottle-shaped brown paper bag for company.

“Hey,” you say, shuffling unsteadily over to him. “Where’s that music coming from?”

He’s on his feet before you know it, grabbing you by your shirt collar and slamming you against the alley. His fedora is jammed so low you can barely make out his eyes, and he’s either smiling or grimacing at you — you can’t tell which. He smells like the worm in an empty bottle of tequila.

“You want music?” he growls. “I’ve got some music for you…”

And that’s what Ry Cooder’s albums are like — a forced march from the alley behind Pedro’s Cantina to the Dust Bowl and back again. As a young recording artist, he was blinding in his restlessness; but unlike many eclectic artists, who come across as showy dilettantes, Cooder gives you the impression that he’s bouncing around like this not because he wants to show you how much he knows, or because he wants to expose you to as much as possible, but because he makes no distinction between these genres. It isn’t that simple, naturally; an ardent musicologist, Cooder is simply incredibly adept at drawing lines between, to give just one example, Hawaiian and American folk music. So adept, in fact, that you can’t even hear the lines — only a walking musical encyclopedia could make it through these records and really understand what Cooder’s doing the whole time. But it doesn’t matter; that’s the beauty of it. (more…)

Listening Booth: The Gaslight Anthem, “The ‘59 Sound”

Certain albums deserve to be heard outside the confines of small headphone speakers and cranked through the stereos of traveling cars speeding down the freeway.  The ’59 Sound, the sophomore release from New Jersey’s the Gaslight Anthem, earns this classification through 12 songs of heartland rock and roll that make it one of the most exciting records released this year.

From the opening scratch of a turntable needle touching down on well-loved vinyl, The ’59 Sound proudly declares that this record is seeped in the sounds and traditions of classic ’60s soul, ’70s classic rock, and the garage band DIY punk music of the early ’80s.   The music of the Gaslight Anthem recalls the Clash, the Replacements, and, in particular, their Jersey forefather, Bruce Springsteen.  Indeed, with this fervent collection of songs, both wonderfully melodic and just this side of polished, the Gaslight Anthem builds on the redeeming promise of rock and roll whose groundwork was laid in the rainy streets of London, the frozen tundra of Minneapolis, and the swamps of Jersey.

The ‘59 Sound is full of the images of broken hearts, shattered dreams and untimely deaths.  Yet, percolating beneath the surface is a sense of hope and determination.  This comes through from the band pouring their soul into playing passionate rock and roll music that contains the intricate details of the burdens placed on the shoulders of everyday, ordinary people. The Gaslight Anthem plays with the precision of guys who have been out on the road for over a year, building their reputation.  With limited funds to produce their record, every note counts, every take is precious.  And it shows in the way bassist Alex Levine and guitarist Alex Rosamilia riff off of each other and the manner in which drummer Benny Horowitz attacks the beat.  Finally, front man Brian Fallon sings each note with the conviction and feeling of his idols, including not only Springsteen, but also Sam Cooke and Otis Redding. (more…)

Listening Booth: Passion Pit, “Chunk of Change EP”

Passion Pit Steadily making its way around the Internet, the Chunk of Change EP by Massachusetts’ Passion Pit started out as a Valentine’s Day gift to founder Michael Angelakos’ girlfriend. Angelakos wrote and recorded the entire thing himself, recently reissued with two extra songs (”Better Things” and “Sleepyhead”).

With its roots in homecraft, it’s not surprising, then, that much like The Postal Service, the songs on the Chunk of Change EP have that bedroom electro-pop feel. The lyrics tend to be romantic (“I gave into your love / as you rapturously commanded”), optimistic (“I believe in believing”) or both (“Baby don’t be sad / better things are coming / I swear there’s truth in that”), creating a rather cutesy effect when combined with the twinkling, glitchy, toy-like electronics. Hell, one of the tracks is titled “Cuddle Fuddle.” The songs are a bit more drawn out in length, though, which tones down some of the sugary coating.

Passion Pit, “Cuddle Fuddle” (download)

Angelakos’ vocals do get a little tiring after repeat listens. His falsetto gets a bit shrill, and his voice too acrobatic, overall, as though he’s not always quite sure what to do with it. But, for a starter EP, one could certainly do worse.

Other electro-pop acts have been raised to great heights based off one EP (cough Black Kids cough), and looking on their CMJ schedule, Passion Pit could very well be facing a media frenzy. Let’s hope they’re left with a little room to breathe.

Listening Booth: TV on the Radio, “Dear Science”

Dear ScienceFrom time to time, the price bands pay for innovation is the inability of music writers to accurately capture what they’re doing. It’s a strange irony that the bands most worthy of being written up are those that are hardest to write about. A wise critic should avoid hyperbole, but with TV on the Radio, statements of grandeur are almost the only way to be honest. TV on the Radio are, without a doubt, one of the most forward-thinking groups currently creating music. They can do almost anything, really — even write this review!

See, sometimes in order to represent something in its truest form you have to use different mediums, speak different languages. So, to give TV on the Radio the type of review they deserve but rarely get, I’ve enlisted TV on the Radio … in lyric form.

TV on the Radio, “Halfway Home” (download)

From “Halfway Home”:
“Hard to see and harder still to say” — TV on the Radio are still a challenging band to describe on Dear Science.

“Collides with world and wilderness” — there’s something primitive and organic about their music, but it’s also very much a product of current times.

“Surfs the sun and scales the moon” — they’re ambitious.

“We’re closer now” — this is TV on the Radio’s third album (fourth if you count their demo), so we’re more used to them. Dear Science doesn’t feel quite as immediate and outlandish, but ultimately reaches the same grandiose heights as their other releases.

From “Crying”:
“Take this car: drive it straight into the wall / build it up from the floor” — representative of TV on the Radio’s creative approach, somewhat deconstructed, ignoring the vehicles of genre.

From “Dancing Choose”:
“Just keep your dancing shoes off mine” — there’s an angry yet celebratory attitude on Dear Science.

(more…)

Listening Booth: Lilum, “Hello From VT” EP

Lilum!In the fashion world, patchwork, the design concept that calls for small pieces put together as part of a larger design, might be considered pejorative. But when it comes to music, it’s the most fitting word for a band like Lilum, and that’s absolutely a positive thing.

Lilum’s sound is more or less a patchwork of many of the major waves of rock we’ve heard — independently and commercially — since the late ’80s and early ’90s. Grunge, shoegaze, hardcore, math rock, even a tinge of emo before it became part of the national vernacular (think Sunny Day Real Estate, Cursive, and American Football types, not Fall Out Boy) — what makes Lilum so effective, so noteworthy, is their ability to blend so many pieces without ever sounding imitable. Instead, listening to them is like buying a used book or finding a family relic: comfortable and familiar, but still new in its own way. And speaking of comfortable and familiar but new, the Windsor, Vermont, foursome are sharing their second EP, Hello From VT, for free on their MySpace page.

Don’t let the Vermont stereotypes cloud your perception: Lilum doesn’t come off like the hippie-jam-stoner bands that the state of maple syrup, cheese, and Howard Dean became known for in music circles. Listening to the first track, the warm but hefty rocker “Rong Johnson,” allays any such doubts. The next song, “Angel,” a reworked tune from their first EP, … And Their Desperate Search for Thrills, shows Lilum’s depth and complexity. The band’s evolution is literally served up for our scrutiny, and they’ve grown in only one direction: up. The new version of “Angel” is given the sultrier, slower and heavier, more volatile treatment the first version begged for.

Lilum, “Angel” (download)

There’s a truth and wit to Lilum, so when they’re at their most aggressive on “Glasgow Smile” and “October,” it feels more like frustration and energy as opposed to anger or hostility. There’s no testosterone overdrive as so many bands that want to sound heavy are apt to engage in. It’s an honest strength, not a parodied one.

Lilum, “Glasgow Smile” (download)

Putting the band’s two EPs together makes for a decent album, but it makes for an even stronger case for why Lilum should be locked away somewhere with a solid cash flow so they can produce the cohesive LP they’re more than capable of. Yet they decided to give the goods away for free. Aren’t we the lucky ones?

Listening Booth: Lucinda Williams, “Little Honey”

Like many other people, I welcomed Lucinda Williams into my life with the release of the Grammy-winning Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, in 1998. Over the course of the last 10 years, I’ve been a fascinated observer of her career, both on record, and on the road. I’ve had the opportunity to see her perform live on numerous occasions, and although her backing band tended to change with every new tour, she has always had a knack for employing some of the finest musicians available. This is particularly true of her guitar players, a group that has included such greats as Gurf Morlix, J.J. Jackson, Kenny Vaughan, Bo Ramsey, and her current sidekick, the redoubtable Doug Pettibone, who shines brightly on this album.

To follow Williams’ career is to listen as she bares her broken heart time and again in her songs. But there’s good news this time out: “I’m stepping out and writing about things other than unrequited love. But because that’s not part of my experience anymore doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being a songwriter,” she explains. “There are plenty of other important things to write about — the state of the world for one thing — I don’t buy into the myth that because you get to a certain level of contentment, you have to throw in the towel.” Hopefully some of her more satisfied contemporaries are listening. (more…)

Listening Booth: Taj Mahal, “Maestro”

Taj Mahal – Maestro (Heads Up, 2008)
purchase this album (Amazon)

Maestro celebrates Taj Mahal’s 40th anniversary as a recording artist, and true to contrarian form, Mr. Mahal has elected not to follow the traditional route for this sort of release — best-of, re-recordings, etc. — and opted instead to head into the studio with a few special guests to cut some new sides and prove he hasn’t been around too long to kick a little ass. The dozen-song album follows a protracted layoff between recordings for Mahal, which is unfortunately nothing new; since alienating his label in the ’70s — and filing a precedent-setting lawsuit against Bill Graham to boot — he’s flitted in and out of the periphery here in America, often recording for rinky-dink outfits or labels without U.S. distribution.

In Heads Up, Mahal has found a label that isn’t a household name, but boasts a pipeline to the deep pockets of the Concord Music Group, as well as an eclectic, jazz-tilted roster that includes Fourplay, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Hugh Masakela, and George Duke. A label comfortable dealing with artists who don’t fall squarely into a single genre, in other words, which is exactly what Mahal needs to give Maestro an outside shot at selling a healthy number of units. Well, that and the famous names attached to the songs — Taj enlisted the aid of some trendy guests this time around, including Ziggy Marley, Ben Harper, and Jack Johnson. (more…)

Listening Booth: Ben Folds, “Way to Normal”

Ben Folds – Way to Normal (Epic, 2008)
purchase this album (Amazon)

Ben Folds has always been an artist I’ve appreciated more in theory than in practice. I’ve appreciated the theory enough to continue buying his albums for almost 15 years now, so I suppose the distinction is almost too fine to matter, but still — I can’t remember a time when my purchase of a Folds album didn’t result in a rush of immediate gratification (example: hearing “Jackson Cannery” in 1995 and thinking “Jesus, yes! Someone remembers how to play a piano”) followed by a vague but persistent sense of disappointment (example: the way I felt after hearing “Rockin’ the Suburbs” for the fifth or sixth time).

Folds’ last album, Songs for Silverman, has been a bone of contention among his fans since it was released in 2005; for some, its largely placid soundscapes signaled a leap forward in maturity for the fortysomething father, while for others, it was a cold hash of MOR ballads and self-conscious attempts at humor. But even at his most awkwardly divisive, Folds always manages to get in a solid punch or two — I confess to getting a little choked up the first time I heard Silverman’s daddy-daughter track, “Gracie,” and even if it was mostly just because my wife and I had our first child that year, you get the point: He may not always be able to get out of his own way, but Ben Folds has sharp pop instincts, which is why his fans expect so much from him.

I may not be a hardcore fan, but I was more than mildly intrigued by the prospect of Folds’ latest, Way to Normal — enough so that I ponied up the $30 for the “deluxe edition” version that comes bound in book-style binding and includes a DVD (which I will almost certainly never watch). I could have harassed a publicist for a free copy — probably even a free advance copy — but I was so sure Folds was going to bounce back from Silverman that I was willing to lay my money on the line.

Folds, you fucker. You’ve scammed me again. (more…)

Listening Booth: Joshua Radin, “Simple Times”

Joshua Radin – Simple Times (Mom & Pop, 2008)
purchase this album (Amazon)

When Joshua Radin’s new record, Simple Times, arrived unbidden on my doorstep, I assumed the worst, because there are a number of reasons to hate Radin’s music. I will list several of them for you now:

1. Almost every song on his debut album, 2006’s We Were Here, sounds like the same goddamn watered-down Iron & Wine track.
2. He was given his first big break by Zach Braff, who sucks.
3. Did I mention that all his songs sound the same?

So, as you can see, I listened to Simple Times with extreme prejudice, and expected to hear 45 minutes of Radin whispering over chords gently strummed at the same tempo. Surprise, surprise — young Joshua has gone and written us a batch of actual songs this time, mixing the hushed ballads (like “You Got Growin’ Up to Do,” which features Patty Griffin) with some moderately uptempo poppy folk songs, and even sticks his tongue in his cheek for a few minutes with the kinda cute “Vegetable Car.”

Make no mistake, Simple Times isn’t a huge departure from We Were Here — but it does show a clear leap in Radin’s songwriting and performing. He’s probably never going to move completely away from the doe-eyed love songs — which is as it should be; his voice was made for them — but at least he isn’t double-tracking his vocals on every song, and he’s started exploring wider melodic territory. Hell, some of the songs even swing a little.

The end result is a perfectly pleasant little record that I’ve played probably a dozen times back-to-back without getting tired of it. Radin’s style of music occupies such a narrow bandwidth that its appeal is fairly limited, at least for me — but it’s perfect for reflective moments, sunrises, and sunsets, and there’s plenty to be said for that. Give “Sky” (download) a listen while you mellow out in your hoodie and American Apparel t-shirt.

Listening Booth: Tony Lucca, “Come Around Again”

Tony Lucca – Come Around Again (Lucca Music, 2008)
purchase this album (CD Baby)

Like a lot of white suburban teens, I spent a good portion of the early ’90s in a state of wild-eyed musical confusion, huddling in the corner with my Van Halen and Billy Joel CDs while scary, pissed-off dudes like Kurt Cobain and Ice Cube yelled at me over a chorus of screeching Corgans. Those were dark, troubled times — years when I’m fairly certain I must have wondered on at least one occasion why more acts couldn’t sound like Toad the Wet Sprocket.

That was a long time ago, and I have long since ceased to pray for a plague of sensitive dudes with guitars to descend like Gap-attired locusts upon the airwaves. Apparently, however, prayers take a few years to reach the Big Guy, because since the late ’90s, we’ve witnessed an incredible proliferation of singer/songwriters, the likes of which haven’t been seen since James Taylor had a mustache. Even for someone who was raised on this stuff, and who has a higher-than-average level of appreciation for good old-fashioned songcraft, it’s gotten out of hand — I’m running out of different ways to say an album is competently written and tastefully performed, but not all that different from Dude With Guitar X, Y, or Z.

Which brings us to Tony Lucca, and what is apparently his sixth album, the recently released Come Around Again.

Lucca was a member of the next-gen Mickey Mouse Club known simply as MMC, where he performed alongside Britney and Justin, but his music is rooted in rock and Wonder Bread soul, not sugar-frosted R&B; if you can make your way past the album cover, which makes it look like Chad from the IT department had a few too many Spider Monkey Margaritas at the office holiday party, you’ll find that Lucca’s a rather talented guitarist and vocalist. His songs, meanwhile, are a bit of a mixed bag. (more…)