Tag: #songsohia

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Alt-ernate Reality: The Dream of Simplified Sincerity

We’ll pop in today in the midst of the Madness to talk about the latest album from alt-J, The Dream, which is emblematic of the mood and has been on repeat a lot lately. It’s their first in five years (their last being the disappointing Relaxer from 2017) and it’s a maddening affair. At turns brilliant and others an eye rolling exasperation, it’s as head scratching and illogical as the tournament thus far, yet has nevertheless been somewhat unshakable for me.

The frustrations come from the lyrics, which are a nonsensical mashup of topics across the album’s twelve tracks. The comparisons frontman Joe Newman evokes to Adam Sandler have never been stronger than on this album, as he sings about cola (“Bane”), hot dogs (“U&ME”), cryptocurrency (“Hard Drive Gold”), and stereotypes more played out than 8 Ball jackets* (coked up actors in the cleverly named “The Actor.”) In these moments I honestly feel like I’m listening to Sandler do a bit at the Weekend Update desk with his sh#$-eating grin and acoustic guitar rather than what otherwise pretends to be a serious album.

It’s unfortunate because this inanity is balanced by some absolutely beautiful melodies and the band’s customary layering in of details (this is an amazing headphone album, particularly if you’ve had a couple), as well as some truly heartbreaking lyrics. When Newman/Sandler isn’t doing a bit and is instead speaking simply from the heart, the songs devastate. Whether it’s telling someone he’s happier when they’re gone on the song of the same name, admitting he’s coming apart a bit in “Losing my Mind,” or trying to woo a first love (or love at first sight depending on the timing) in “Powders,” it hits differently because you can tell he’s not trying to be clever or funny, he’s just being sincere.

It’s because you’re reminded the band can still do this that the other gibberish is so infuriating. (Their first two albums remain faves – 2014’s This is All Yours landed at #3 on that year’s list, while their debut An Awesome Wave landed at #4 the year prior.) Primarily because it’s so unnecessary — it takes away from the album’s other strengths and ends up serving as nothing more than a distraction. (And while you can argue songwriters since time immemorial have written about things they didn’t experience firsthand as a creative exploration of their mind and the world around them, I refuse to believe someone could be equally passionate and creatively stimulated by tales of bitcoin and drug-addicted actors as by those of unrequited love and personal loss. Stop putting up pretenses and just be real…)

“Get Better” is this dynamic distilled to a single song, starting with a quiet moment between two loved ones in bed (listening to Elliott, at that — respect…) before shifting to a shoutout to frontline COVID workers (?), that loved one being hospitalized, recovering, and ultimately dying in a car crash on the day of their release (what in the actual f#$k?!), and then shifting back to a debilitating farewell. (The use of a played back message from the departed here is so simple and powerful (and universal — who hasn’t done that before?) it’s shocking. It’s one of two times they use this trick on the album (the other being in the aforementioned “Powders”) and it’s potent both times.) This whipsawing between sincerity and stupidity is so counterproductive you just wish you could shout at them, “Knock it off, for fu#$’s sake — stop trying to be clever or arty and just be honest!”

Fortunately the positives end up outweighing these negatives overall — those knife-twisting moments of sincerity, the fantastic melodies (other highlights include the sinister house beat on the back half of “Chicago,” the “Unfinished Sympathy” vibe on “Philadelphia,” and the languid bliss of “Walk a Mile”).  They’re potent and plentiful enough to overpower those annoyances — like swarms of chiggers destroying your ankles on an otherwise pristine day at the beach or stepping in a gargantuan pile of cow sh#$ while walking in verdant hills on a hike. You can’t ignore their presence or their negative impact, but hopefully by focusing on the good around them you can mute their power a bit. Give “Get Better” a spin to see for yourself:

* I legitimately saw someone walking around with an 8 Ball jacket on the other day — and not an old one, this looked like a newer, redesigned model. I sh#$ you not… “And I think to myselllllllfffff…..what a woooonderfuuuuul wooooorld…….”

We’ll close with one other album that’s been in heavy rotation lately — one whose sincerity and naked honesty verge on the uncomfortable at times, in stark juxtaposition with the above — departed singer/songwriter Jason Molina’s great Didn’t it Rain (released under the Songs: Ohia moniker), which recently turned 20. The writeup in Stereogum is a good read and does the trouble artist’s album justice, relaying how they accidentally discovered it. I had stumbled upon Molina a few years prior for the Lioness album (the title track and “Coxcomb Red” are still two faves) and remember the intensity he sang with just grabbing you without relief. I didn’t learn about his sad personal story until years later, which makes some of the struggles he sings of even more poignant in retrospect. The closing trio of “Blue” songs here have always been faves, none moreso than the last, the lovely “Blue Chicago Moon.” Give it a listen here while you read the above:

Until next time, amici…
–BS

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Got (Woodstock) ’99 Problems — Postcards from the Edge

Finally recovered from the America-inspired bender I went on for the 4th, celebrating my freedoms and global superiority to the max — just in time to do it again for the Olympics! Before I go back down the rabbit hole, though, had a few items worth sharing to serve as an alternative to the anthem for the forthcoming fortnight. First, had a chance to watch the new HBO documentary on Woodstock 99 last night, the aptly named Woodstock 99: Peace, Love, and Rage, and like the festival it portrays, it’s a bit of a mixed bag.

Things it gets right — there were a lot of bros. A LOT of bros. I believe a study conducted afterward by the prestigious Boston School of Zoology & Migratory Travel determined that 87% of the world’s bro population was present at the festival that weekend, making it the third largest gathering of a single species last century. And they were mostly white. And gropey. And they really enjoyed the more aggressive, harder bands that headlined each night. (The Offspring and Korn the first, Limp Bizkit, Rage, and Metallica the second.)

As someone who was there I can verify these things are all true — also, my GOD was it hot. And dirty. As I was watching I started to get flashbacks and my skin started crawling as I have never been so consistently hot, filthy, and uncomfortable as I was that weekend.  The 100 degree temperatures, the miles and miles of concrete you walked on between stages and sets, the lack of shade or ability to cool down at night. You were camping out in tents or your car, remember — if you could recall where the hell yours was, that is — as the surroundings continued to radiate the day’s heat and you tried to sleep while covered in sweat and grime from the day’s activities.

Add in the soupy morass of piss and shit you had to wade thru as you tried to refill your water and/or rinse some of the grime off you meant you had a lot of people who basically baked for three days straight, stewing in their own juices (if not throwing in loads of mind-altering booze and chemicals on top of that to really perfect the recipe). I remember the promoters turning hoses on the crowd to try and cool them down during the day, but when you’ve got hundreds of thousands of people that only goes so far (and lasts so long).

By the time the weekend was done I had definitely gotten heat stroke — the sun was so incessant (and my attempts to hide from it so ineffective) that my head had swelled about an inch in size. (I discovered this fact when I got back to my buddy’s house and sneezed after that first amazing shower, at which point I felt my entire scalp slide forward like it was riding on a slip and slide — which essentially it was, as my head had started stockpiling whatever moisture it could find up top in an attempt to protect my brain. The picture I took upon realizing this shows my forehead jutting out like Frankenstein, which I found simultaneously hilarious and horrifying.)

So all of that was true and made for a pretty uncomfortable concert-going experience. It was hot, it was dirty, and there were a ton of white bros roaming around. (Also true, there were a TON of topless women — I had forgotten about the tents doing the skin art, but that led to an endless array of women walking around with paint shirts on. I honestly saw more breasts that weekend than I think I have in the subsequent 20 years combined.)

What the documentary gets wrong is when it tries to portray the festival as this overtly aggro/aggressive/racist/misogynistic thing that was doomed to devolve the way it did. Yes, there were a lot of hard rock acts on the bill — but there were also ones like Counting Crows, Dave Matthews, Brian Setzer, Bruce Hornsby, Elvis Costello, and Rusted Root, which are about as far to the opposite side of the spectrum as you can get. Yes, the lineup was skewed more towards more white male-led rockers — but there were also bands like The Roots, Ice Cube, Wyclef, and George Clinton, in addition to the iconic performance by DMX and the three females (Alanis, Jewel, and Sheryl Crow) noted in the documentary. (And as at all festivals they were butting right up against each other — the two acts that preceded the Chili Peppers on that closing night were Creed and Jewel, which has to be among the more bananas transitions in styles and fan bases you’re ever going to see.)

Yes, there was a an uncomfortable amount of groping of women crowdsurfers (and turns out full-on assaults, which was not apparent to us at the time) and a whoooole lotta white people shown saying the N-word in response to DMX’s exhortations — but portraying it as some liberating release of pent-up racism and rapiness isn’t fair or accurate.  All of which makes it sound like I’m defending the festival or saying what happened was acceptable (or enjoyable) — I would no sooner go to this again than I would condone the actions of the idiots who torched the place, looted things, and/or assaulted the female concertgoers. I just don’t think you can say those things were destined to happen and/or caused by some broader societal tolerance of misogyny and racism. (For every asshole/idiot who acted unacceptably there were an equal number if not hundreds more who did not, which diminishes the argument for predestination and inevitability.)

Avoidable? Potentially. Something to be held accountable for? Absolutely. (Although 20 years on this is something the promoters still seemed largely unable to do — in their telling this was a Fred Durst (and maybe MTV) problem vs anything they could have done better.)

So while I wouldn’t do it again, I don’t regret going either.  I remember some fantastic performances — DMX’s in particular stands out (a point validated by rewatching his set after his sudden passing recently). I remember the vast carpet of humanity undulating like a wave during Limp Bizkit’s set — the first time I’d ever seen that happen. (And still probably the largest — it went on FOREVER, just like waves in the actual ocean, which you can get glimpses of in the documentary.) I remember that Saturday bloc of Bizkit, Rage, and Metallica being a pretty epic close to a pretty decent day. (I had forgotten about the plywood surfers until I watched this, but there were LOADS of em out during that stretch, which is another memory.) I remember driving out while the Chili Peppers were playing, as the bonfires started to multiply and things really started to disintegrate. And I remember being hot, dirty, and wanting to shower really, really bad. That, and Frankenstein forehead and nearly boiling my brain.

All in all a fun trip down memory lane! (Eye roll) Worth a watch, though, if only to appreciate how far we’ve come at our festivals since then. (The occasional Fyre Fests notwithstanding…)

We’ll close with a couple new tracks that caught my ear the past couple weeks — first up comes the latest from Woods, whose deluxe release of last year’s Strange to Explain (which landed at #13 on last year’s best of list) came out Friday. It sports five new tracks including this one, “Nickels and Dimes” — give it a listen here:

Next comes the latest from the poppier side of some Norwegian death metalers, Beachheads, who released the single “Jupiter” recently. It’s a bright, catchy little tune — no word on if it’s part of an upcoming release or not, but am glad to have it either way.  See what you think here:

Up third is the rolling celebration for the Indiana label Secretly Canadian’s 25 anniversary, which has spawned some solid singles where their acts offer deep cuts and/or special covers to help raise funds to combat homelessness in their hometown of Bloomington. It’s a good cause that’s yielded some good tunes, including Jim James’ recent cover of Steve Miller, “Seasons.” This early one from Jason Molina’s first Songs:Ohia album is the one that’s gotten stuck in my head, though — a solid tune from someone gone too soon. Check out “Gauley Bridge” here:

Someone else looking back is Pile frontman Rick Maguire who decided to spend part of his pandemic revisiting old songs and demos of the band, recreating and re-envisioning them for a solo album, the upcoming Songs Known Together, Alone. One of those tracks was the first thing he recorded for the band, the demo “Build a Fire,” which he delivers this time as a lovely piano ballad. Really interested in how the rest of the album turns out — in the meantime give this one a ride:

We’ll close with one last band deciding to dive into the archives, Wye Oak, whose album Civilian turned 10 this year. As part of that re-release the band went back to a couple outtakes and demos from those sessions and unearthed this one, the excellent “Electricity.” It would have sounded perfect alongside existing album tracks, harnessing the power and urgency of the band in this era — still my favorite of their many incarnations.  See what you think here:

That’s it for now — until next time, amici…
–BS

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Prinetime — Once More with the Mailman from Maywood

It’s been another couple weeks (I think?) — rather tumultuous weeks, actually — and that has given a little more variety to the stay-at-home stasis.  As the coronavirus continues to rage (we doubled the confirmed case count again this week — from 1M to 2M, this time — and did so in just 45 days... But sure, most places are good to open back up — it’s summer! I’m sure the heat will take care of it…) it’s been inspiring to see the global protests demanding police reform and an end to systemic racism. (Or at least a non-half-assed attempt to significantly fix key pieces if we’re not able to sustain our focus/effort/will long enough to fully eradicate it — it’s summer!)

Seeing thousands of folks around the globe — as well as plenty of places you wouldn’t expect in our country (Cedar Rapids?! Boise?! Rural West Virginia?!) — taking to the streets to demand change has been pretty amazing, and it restored some hope in me for my fellow citizens. (Hope that had previously been eradicated as people packed into bars, beaches, and other spaces the past few weeks as states began to reopen. Oh and that whole systemic racism thing…)

Another restorative piece has been my diving into John Prine’s songs, which was sparked by his unfortunate passing early on from the virus and has continued unabated in the months since.  I’d always known about him — knew he was from back home and always seemed to have a smile on his face whenever I saw him (it’s how we all are, coming from the greatest place on earth…) — but never really got too into his music for whatever reason. It’ll be one of the things I’m most thankful for once this pandemic has passed, though, that I finally had the time/reason to do so, as he’s been a frequent soundtrack to my mornings on the porch — the cruel reality being it took his passing to make it happen.

There was a really wonderful tribute to him last night — one of many the past few months — put together by his wife and family.  It had the usual mix of covers of Prine’s biggest songs by some of his biggest fans (Dan Auerbach, Jason Isbell, Sturgill Simpson, Reba McEntire — even Kevin Bacon showed up, proving yet again he is connected to literally everyone on the planet), along with stories told by friends (including Bill Murray) and old footage and interviews of John.  It was pretty great — funny, moving, sad, and happy.  Just like Prine’s songs.

It’s worth a watch/listen if you’ve got time — if only to get to know more about a really good songwriter (and seemingly genuinely good guy) who’s sadly no longer with us.  There’s some really great stuff in there… In conjunction with the tribute, his wife/label released the last song he recorded, the lovely “I Remember Everything.”  As always in these situations, the song takes on an extra gravity knowing what comes next, but would have been moving even if Prine was still with us.  Just one more piece of evidence regarding his immense talent.  Give it a listen here (and really — listen to Prine.  You’ll be thankful you did…):

It’s been pretty quiet otherwise in the midst of all the tumult — lots of the livestreams have quieted, and even the dependable daily stalwart Tweedy Show has gone dark for large chunks of time.  (Partly in solidarity with the protests, partly because he’s apparently writing another book.)  Two minor items of note that popped up are the lead track from the upcoming Jason Molina album and an unreleased song from Beach Fossils that I thought were worth sharing.

First the upcoming album from another departed talent, this one from Jason Molina, better known (at least to some) as the man behind Songs: Ohia, the strangely named (but lovely sounding) act he helmed for fifteen years and almost as many albums. (Start with The Lioness if you’re looking to jump in.) It’s an entire solo album, recorded when he was living in London in the late-2000s and subsequently shelved for some reason.  Assuming it’s as good as the lead single, that will be a good thing for us.  Check out “Shadow Answers the Wall” here:

Next comes the aforementioned Fossils song, an unreleased track from the time of their excellent self-titled debut, which somehow is already 10 years old and getting an anniversary reissue this month.  The track is in line with the rest of the band’s sound — shimmery, soft, and super soothing — a recipe in high demand these days.  Glad we’ve got another entry to bliss out to while we wait for a new album.  Check out “Time” here:

Speaking of calming, chill affairs, two other albums I’ve been listening to on repeat are the latest from Muzz and Mt Joy, as they both serve heaping helpings of that coveted recipe.  We’ve highlighted a few tracks for the former here before — it’s Interpol frontman Paul Banks’ new side project with former Walkmen drummer Matt Barrick, to give a quick reminder– and it’s a pretty great little album.  Really pretty melodies, suuuuuuper chill vibe, which as I mentioned goes down reaaaaaaaal easy these days.  “Patchouli” is a current fave — give it a spin here:

As for Mt Joy, their new album is also pretty fantastic, one that evokes the emotion of their name many times over on its thirteen tracks. I’d first discovered these guys back at Lolla a few years ago and immediately fell for their jubilant, full-throated songs, which sounded perfect in the early day sunshine. Their 2018 debut was really good (the self-titled Mt Joy), but somehow I appear to have never written about these guys before.  Thankfully the arrival of the new album is causing me to correct that, as Rearrange Us is similarly packed with pretty, uplifting songs.

One of my initial faves is this one, “Witness,” which flashes some unexpected fury (“shut off that stupid song, I should cut out your tongue”) before breaking into a beautiful, swooning refrain.  It shows some range from the band, which could easily have kept singing feel-good anthems in the summer sun.  Instead, this album shows them tackling heavier subjects (infidelity, death, etc — the previous lyric coming after walking in on an unfaithful spouse, for instance) while maintaining their lovely melodies and optimistic spirit.  It’s a really good listen — I suspect it, and Muzz, will end up here at the end of the year, based on initial listens — but in the meantime enjoy this one here:

That’s it for now, amici — stay safe/strong… –BS