This is not a record review
So, I’ve been working on this post for a while. It’s not taking so long because I’m crafting it. Rather, it’s taking so long because I haven’t had time to work on it. In the meantime, there have been ideas for posts pass me by. So, I’m publishing this thing without hyperlinks, pics, or footnotes. Agree with me. Tell me where I’m wrong. Just don’t hold me to any standard set on this blog in previous posts.
Or at least this is not one I should have written weeks ago. I mean, record reviews are dead, right? No one reads them anymore. And when they’re written, they say very little about the music. Besides, we all just check the number or count the stars. Who has time to see if someone else thinks you should buy the record? Buy it or don’t. We don’t need record reviews and we sure as hell shouldn’t write them.
I used to buy records based on what was written in the back of a Rolling Stone or Spin. And when I bought the record without reading a single review, I’d sometimes read the reviewer’s take after the fact to see if at least one person heard it the way I did. I’d often find a disconnect and simply move on to another source of reviews that was closer to my own opinions and tastes. My infatuation with a magazine’s record reviews never lasted long. I eventually turned to online sources for reviews such as Pitchfork, but even that was short-lived.
And like assholes, we all started our own blogs where we pushed our own reviews onto the world. So, now, instead of less record reviews through which to sort, there are now thousands or even millions more. Plus, we had to consider our own reviews. What would my blog say about this band? What will my Facebook status say tomorrow about this record? The review has taken over.
But I don’t like to look at it that way.
The way I see it is that we now have a new platform to discuss art, especially music. No longer do I have to take it from a professional journalist or a punk at P4k. Hell, I don’t even have to blindly accept what a friend has to say in his/her blog post. At the least, I can look elsewhere or leave a comment. At the most, I can publish my own thoughts. Either way, what is created in this (cyber)space is a forum for discussion. No longer is it a one-way distribution. The exchange comes from multiple directions and is inclusive. Is this still a review? I don’t know, but it’s certainly more interesting.
I’m not going to review Arcade Fire’s newest record, The Suburbs. I’m not going to tell you why it’s great or where it falls short. In the end, you’ll make up your own mind. You’ll buy it or not. It doesn’t make any difference to me.
Besides, is it really possible to judge an Arcade Fire album fairly these days? With the president set by “Funeral”, it’s hard to imagine any album could measure up. When I saw Pitchfork’s review, reading just the score as I do these days, I was impressed with its showing of 8.6. Then I read this take and questioned the entire thing, album and review.
But who really cares?
When one plays The Suburbs, it is instantly clear that Win Butler and co. have written their own review. You see, the album isn’t literally about the suburbs. The suburbs are a metaphor for succeeding, for making it. There was a time when every working stiff’s dream was to make enough money to house his family in the ‘burbs. Sure, it was the pinnacle of nuclear familial status, but there was also a certain sense of selling out. Arcade Fire has to deal with that sort of quandary as well.
The opening title track lets the listener know right away that this is not your youth’s Arcade Fire. It’s a mature pop sound that either invites or turns you off. No matter, because this intro and the following tracks of synth-lite pop and Boss-centric dramatics is just the aesthetics, something Arcade Fire used to use like few others ever could. This pop sheen is just a fresh coat of paint or new siding to cover the charm of uncertainty below.
What Arcade Fire does with the content of their latest album is break down how said record will be perceived, how they will be perceived. The band has written the review for us. There’s no need to write our own or give any credence to Rolling Stone‘s take. The band tells you exactly what to make of The Suburbs throughout the record.
The death of anything punk, alternative, or indie is proclaimed over a pop piano playing of what can only be described as the band’s Billy Joel moment. The song breaks down the divisions of culture created in the 70’s at the hands of Sex Pistols and Stooges, longing for the time to just simply enjoy life and art without the inevitable judgment of hipsters and bloggers. This is the first time Arcade Fire rejects youth, something I never thought I’d hear them do.
The second track, “Ready to Start,” continues to toy with youthful cynicism and shows us a band that is both aware of what it’s doing and unconcerned with what you think of it. “Modern Man” asserts Arcade Fire’s rightful place in (modern) dad-rock, albeit rather cool dad-rock. You know, it’s touch being a middle-aged white dude, living in the suburbs and all that. [winking emoticon here] If anything, these two tracks hint at the themes and aesthetics to come.
A full rejection of hipsterdom comes next, but it’s more than what Pitchfork says it is. “Rococo” references a couple of important cultural moments. The first of these moments is also known as “late Baroque”, possibly a response to the band’s silly and somewhat lazy label of “Baroque pop” or simply an assertion of their artistic transition into something different. The original Rococo movement was a significant transition in European culture. The “other” Rococo was a band in the midst of the 70’s punk and progressive rock scenes. Because of either timing, energy, or a combination of the two, Rococo were often lumped in with the The Clash and Sex Pistols. However, they were very different from the punk rock of the day. Both of these meanings hint at something way deeper to the Arcade Fire sound than simply dissing some hipsters.
“Empty Room” certainly starts out like your typical Arcade Fire track with the strings and anthemic guitar feedback. The track celebrates the band’s breaking from their aesthetic shackles, proclaiming, “When I’m by myself, I can be myself,” a typical sentiment from anyone trying so hard to not be what everyone proclaims them to be.
In “City with No Children”, the band provides another take on the youthful perspective of their music. With the amount of information available to kids, their primary audience, the band sadly sees its listeners as cynics well before they should be. The result is that they can’t return to their unknown origins. There is no way this record will be judged on its own merit. There will always be the Arcade Fire mystique created by classic debuts, Pitchfork 10’s, and YouTube videos of the band playing among their fans.
Despite all the assertions of change in Win Butler’s voice, “Half Light I” assures the listener that this is still the same old Arcade Fire you’ve grown to love. They’re just expanding, taking on another appearance in the half light. The abrupt shift in aesthetics of The Suburbs is sort of like a terror twilight, that moment before the sun goes down when things just feel ominous. Interestingly, another reference to the Rococo period happens as the band sings, “They hide the ocean in a shell,” as artists of the time used shells as a popular motif for their designs.
In the track’s continuation, “Half Light II,” Arcade Fire contemplates their shift and development as a band. It’s a track that moves them forward as they grasp at whatever magic brought them together. Also, the aesthetics provided some huge 80’s synthesizers pull the listener to go along with this change.
“Suburban War” is where Arcade Fire lets you go your merry way in case you’ve given up on them at this point. They realize you’ve grown apart from them or vice versa. Here’s where the metaphor of the suburbs as success, particularly in the music industry, hit hardest as sides are chosen, divided by almost exclusively by musical tastes.
And as the band came to terms with this shift and the inevitable loss of a portion of their audience, they set out to write a record. “Month of May” takes the listener to the recording process. The band made their commitment to record this album in an uncompromising style. Cynicism and apathy are called out again (“The kids are all standing with their arms folded tight”) as the band’s groove pleads with the listener to simply move his body, enjoy the moment.
I’m not going to continue through the track list from here. This is beginning to resemble a review and that was not my intent. I think you get the point. Arcade Fire reviewed the album for you. It’s extremely meta. they’ve rejected all those who would turn their nose up at this incredible rock record.
Sure, the punk ethos is gone from the surface and the anthems are not as anthemic, but this album can stand on its own. It can stand up to your skepticism, your expectations.
When I used to go out…
…I would know everyone that I saw. Now I go out alone if I go out at all[1].
Or so goes a popular lyric from a popular alt-rock track from a few years ago. It’s also how life turns out for the aging hipster[2]. We make choices to get jobs and have kids. Our bodies don’t put up with the stresses of late-night living and three or more beers in an evening the way they used to. Our attention span is not capable of reading Pitchfork and updating our blogs.
I used to go out fairly regularly. I’d go see bands, especially local bands. I did this whenever I could afford it in college[3]. I even did it as often as possible when I lived an hour or more from any city with the capacity for such things. I can remember several shows in which I fell into bed at 3 AM, only to get up around 6:30 AM or so to prepare for the day teaching fifth graders. The point is that I made a regular effort regardless of daily responsibilities to see local bands play music.
That doesn’t happen anymore. For one thing, I moved to a much smaller market with fewer good bands. So, it took me a while to catch on with these locals. And even when I did catch on, I found it difficult to make it out to shows where bands didn’t go on until 9 or 10 at night. Sure, I was invited out or promised to see a friend’s band, but occasions when that actually happened became few and far between.
This week, I had no familial responsibilities to keep me in. Work is relatively light in the summer and there was actually a show. So, I made the choice to see a local band for once.
Nonreturner is an outfit on local label/co-op Yards & Gods. The band, and most of the bands on their label, are quite prolific. But it’s not just quantity they produce, it’s also of a high quality. This is pretty amazing considering that they rarely tour[4] and they’re giving away their music for free when it’s worth way more than that[5].
Of course, these facts just make them candidates for favorite local band status. I went through several local bands back in the day. None of them toured really. They were all on tiny labels that were labels in name only. They all made a lot of great music. While not all of it was free, it certainly was cheap. Sometimes, if you would buy a cassette tape, they’d fill it for you[6].
Anyway, Nonreturner had the unfortunate honor of opening for an act that didn’t even bother to show up. It was a hot, Monday night in the summer in a college town. Plus, before the venue reduced the cover, it was $8, a rather steep price for such an event. Well, I showed up anyway. Zach and Carrie[7] of Nonreturner have been regulars in my blogs’ comment sections and I owed them at least $4 and a late bedtime[8].
I’m glad I did go out. Despite there being maybe 15-20 people in attendance and the bad metal band that played after them, Nonreturner were pretty good. Bands like Broken Social Scene and anything Bradford Cox came to mind as textures of drums, samples, guitar, and keyboards[9] held together over Mojo’s shitty-ass soundsystem. Funny thing is, I sort of knew Nonreturner was this good. I didn’t need to see them to confirm this opinion. It was not the most inspired performance[10], but it was certainly worth the night out, making me think I should do it more often.
Notes:
1Sorry, I know the Walkmen are passé for some of you and the sentiment of “The Rat” is a bit clichéd, but I couldn’t resist. This is a post going on in my head every time I go out or choose to stay in.
2This sort of points out why it’s so absurd that I use the term “hipster” so often. There was a time when the word would have applied to me. I’m just too old for that now. Or too boring.
3Which, strangely enough, was quite amazing. I gave up meat so that I could have more money to spend on such things. I remember choosing to smoke at a bar because I couldn’t afford as much beer as I could afford cigarettes. It’s funny how money would appear just so that I could go see a band.
4Well, they might have toured, but what I’m talking about are 1-2 month stints on the road. That’s how bands become nationally known. They tour the shit out of their material. Even then, it’s not guaranteed.
5So, at this very moment, there is no excuse for not going to the Yards & Gods site and downloading everything you can get your hands on. Start with Nonreturner, though.
6I once misread some liner notes that came with a 7″ and sent a guy two 90 or 120 minute cassette tapes to fill. He filled them both even though the offer was really only for one tape’s worth of music. I played the shit out of those tapes. They were so good.
7OK. So, Carrie is not an “original member” of the band, but she is taking the bassist Clint’s place in the lineup. Apparently, Clint knocked up his wife with twins. Babies get in the way of a rock ‘n roll lifestyle, but twins will destroy it.
8And I have promised fancy beers in a public forum. Twice now.
9That and Carrie plays a mean tambourine. She can also take the tambourine and do a figure-eight between her legs Harlem Globetrotters-style.
10This is not a complaint. There was no crowd and their drummer took a 10-minute shit right as they were to go on. So, it was no big deal. The music was good even if the feeling wasn’t great.
5-10-15-20
Pitchfork recently started does a cool little feature[14] where they ask an artist to identify their favorite songs at the ages of 5, 10, 15, etc. The first in the feature is the incredibly hard-rocking Corin Tucker of Sleater-Kinney fame. I’ve done something like this before[1], but I wanted to do one of these features for this blog. Of course, I don’t get to interview cool indie rockers. So, you just get me. Feel free to share your own favorites in the comments or write your own post in response.
5
I turned five in 1980. It’s honestly very hard to remember music when I was five. I do know that my parents were Rolling Stones fans. Mom was a huge fan and my dad saw them in the ’60’s at Dayton’s Hara Arena, the same venue I saw Nirvana many years later[2]. A particular song that resonates throughout my life is “Satisfaction”. It was so raw and powerful. That song was the opposite of sunny, top-40 pop. There’s a direct line from that track to the garage rock-turned-punk of the 1970’s and beyond. Whenever I listen to the Replacements or the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion or Titus Andronicus, I think of the raw dissatisfaction of that one song. I took special notice when PJ Harvey and Bjork once performed “Satisfaction” together, Cat Power remade the song for a covers records[3], and even when I found myself singing the song to my infant daughter. That song will stay with me forever.
10
In the summer of 1984, my brother and I discovered Prince (and his/the Revolution). The little rocker from Minneapolis released a movie, Purple Rain, we were not yet old enough to see. Then, right after my tenth birthday, my mom went on this trip to visit family in California. Dad let us see some rather racy movies[4]. Purple Rain was one of them. We had the LP since September when my brother turned 8 and we quickly gathered as many of his records as Columbia House would allow[5]. Among those purchases was Prince’s classic 1999, another great album loaded with killer track after killer track. Among all the Prince songs we listened to over that two or three year period, I’ve gone back and forth as to which song made the biggest impact, but I’ve somehow landed on “Little Red Corvette”. It had the hook, a story, and well…It was all Prince. From the 1982 album by the same name, this was the hit we played more than any other.
15
Truth be told, my introduction to indie/alternative music was not Nirvana. That came a year later. No, the shit hit the fan in 1990 with Jane’s Addiction’s Ritual De Lo Habitual. That record came at a time when I was listening to a lot of classic/hard rock. Radio stations had picked up “Been Caught Stealing”, a track I was all over. I mean, it had dogs barking. However, even my gateway track was not the most memorable off the album. “Ain’t No Right” which might not even be the best track on the record touched on a lot of anger I had stewing beneath when I was 15. It was the punkest thing I had at the time. Anything remotely punk was a rare thing in those days in West-Central Ohio. Somehow, Jane’s Addiction combined hippie-like politics, heavy metal heroics, and punk grit to everything they touched. It would be another year before the inaugural Lollapalooza and another three before I’d start even going to shows, but this was the track on the record that sent me on my way.
20
In 1995, I saw Pavement for the first time. I attended the third of three Lollapalooza’s. It was the middle of my college years, years that were greatly influential in shaping my musical tastes. Although Wowee Zowee was in full rotation for much of the year, I discovered another band on Matador that had been around for a while who was also playing Lolla that year. The band was Yo La Tengo and the album they released in ’95 was Electr-O-Pura. The track that has always given me a tingle was “False Alarm”. I saw the band twice that year[6] and “False Alarm” was easily the highlight of both sets. Ira Kaplan just seemed to fall all over his Hammond B-3 organ, choosing to play with his elbows or chest rather than the more conventional fingers. The song is so loaded with angst and lust and jittery goodness that I didn’t hesitate when I hit my 20th year on this list.
25
2000 was a strange year for me, musically. Pavement was out of the picture for a year, a reunion a long way off. I struggled to find that groove in the scene within I used to fit so comfortably. Modest Mouse was leaving their indie years behind and fully embracing their major label selves[7]. My music collection needed a swift kick in the ass. Enter The White Stripes. De Stijl was not a wickedly popular album at the time and Jack and Meg were still siblings/married couple. My sister turned me on to them. I still remember picking up the record in a tiny basement record shop in Athens, OH where she was living. “You’re Pretty Good Looking (for a Girl)” was the opening track that pulled me in[8]. Despite the fact that it’s nothing like the rest of the album, the song made the rest, which was the jolt I needed, so much more approachable for me. Anyway, say what you will about Jack White, but he made some pretty amazing music back in those days[9].
30
Thirty may have been the year of the greatest change for me. Within a week in July of 2005, I passed a Master’s exam, supported my partner as she successfully defended her dissertation[10], closed on our first house, married said partner, and moved 500 miles from the only state in which I ever lived[11]. It was stressful to say the least. I needed some music to address this uneasiness.
Spencer Krug’s “You Are a Runner and I Am My Father’s Son” hit me like a ton of bricks from the first listen. My sister had pushed Wolf Parade on me, citing the fact that Pitchfork loved them and they were from Canada, which at the time was a winning combination. Anyway, that song still gives me goosebumps. Instead of flipping the record on that first go around, I simply moved the needle back to the beginning just so I could here that song with that drum beat, those piano blasts, and those lyrics. Man. Goosebumps.
35
Oh, that’s now. Well, I’ve decided not to over-think this one. Easily, the song that has it’s stamp all over this year is “I Won’t Lie to You” by Let’s Wrestle. Again, my sister is to blame[12]. She put the track on a CD for my daughter. We played that thing into the ground for most of this year. Then I bought the Let’s Wrestle album and it was all over. The song is still the standout track[13], but the entire album has captured my longing for days gone by and that giddiness I used to get at rock shows or in record stores. The opening lines say all you need to know about me: “No matter how many records I buy, it still won’t fill this void.”
Those were the most meaningful songs to me every five years of my life. What were/are yours?
Notes:
1OK. So, it was nothing like this post. That older link is to a post where I picked an album for every year of my life using my current experiences and perspective. This list takes into account what I was into at each age.
2Normally, this would have been a footnoted item. Oh, wait. I did just footnote it.
3Which was OK, but way better than her last covers record, Jukebox.
4In retrospect, might have not been the best move. It wasn’t perverted or anything. We watched Purple Rain, Up the Creek, and Revenge of the Nerds. These films are pretty tame by today’s standards, but they did have an effect on my perspective of sex and women. The good thing my dad did throughout the weekend moviefest was remind us that none of this was real. It was pre-AIDS can infect straight people. It was a simpler time for sure. Where was I going with this footnote?
5I don’t know how many times we joined one of these clubs. It was always a penny plus shipping for something like 10 or 12 records/cassette tapes. We would just stock up, buy a few records over the course of the three year commitment, quit the club, and join another. The best was when one of them started offering Matador albums in the mid-nineties.
6The first was on the second stage at the aforementioned Lollapalooza. The second was a great little show at Stache’s in Columbus, OH.
7However, Modest Mouse did release Building Something Out of Nothing, a collection of rare EP and 7″ tracks from their indie label Up (RIP). I had all these songs on the original EP’s or vinyl, but it was a nice collection all together and helped expose a lot of major label Mouse fans to their earlier work.
8Very popular with the lesbians. I ran around with a lot of lesbians in those days. Of course, I’ve been called a “lesbian” before, but that is another post/footnote for another time.
9It could be argued that Jack White still does make good music, but I’m not the one to make that argument.
10Actually, I had very little to do with her successful defense and possibly less to do with her finishing her book earlier this summer. However, whenever she feels the stresses of the academy, I feel them too and remind myself why I never took that route.
11This does not count the summer I spent in Seattle. Of course, does a summer spent anywhere really count as living there?
12Actually, my siblings and I have influenced each other’s music collection than is normal. I love Swearing at Motorists and other Dayton, OH bands because of my brother. I still remember my sister sneaking my CD’s in high school and college so that she could dub tape-after-tape of her own mixes. Music is a huge connection for the three of us, maybe even more than that whole blood thing.
13Although, the version my sister sent us was from an earlier release which is superior to the one on the proper album. It’s rawer, more immediate, livelier.
14Thanks to Carrie the Wade for setting me straight on this one. Sometimes in my old age I get the facts mixed up or am totally out of the loop as to what all the kids are into these days. Had she not pointed out this grave error I would totally look like an out-of-touch, aging hipster. Just to be clear, Carrie Wade reads the P4k all the time, a pursuit my frail old body cannot handle anymore. For more information I am too old to share with you (I mean, I’m thinking of writing an Arcade Fire review next. What am I? NPR?), go to Carrie’s blog where she covers way cooler music than I do. See you at Pavement, Carrie!
Beer and Pavement 
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