Stars: 3.5
Song: A Little Rain, Jesus Gonna Be Here.
Show: 25$
First off, I need to apologize for a few things. For one—and this may be more of an apology to myself—I am sorry I have been slacking off getting these things out on time lately. Yes, this is partly due to following my own theology which states, “Don’t work if it don’t pay,” but I don’t really consider this work. The main reasons I have been so slow is because I don’t have any of these albums and it is getting difficult to acquire them. I don’t have the money to buy them (or do much of anything in New York City, for that matter), and I have one of those nasty parasites people call a “conscious” which keeps me from pirating them all. I have been mostly relying on friends to send me their suggestions via a private, closed, completely legal, network. The last reason, and perhaps the most prohibiting, is that my Ipod and my computer are in a fight and are refusing to synch with each other. I thought I fixed this last night, but this brings me to my next apology.
I am sorry, Nicholas Mastors. This morning, as I do every morning, I connected my pod to my computer, went through my morning routine (you know, concocting protein shakes, lifting weights, running four miles, lathering myself in body oils, and trimming chest hairs), unplugged my “synched” Ipod, and headed for the train. By the time I got to the turnstiles, I had my cursor set Tom Waits Rain Dogs, and right when I walked through, past the point of no return, I hit play and nothing happened. Again, technology failed me, and each track, although listed, were duds. I was then left with an ugly dilemma: do I go back home, fuss with my computer for a half an hour and be late for work, or do I fudge it and do a different Waits album? I made the difficult judgment call to just go ahead and tackle Bone Machine instead, which at the time, I thought was from the same time period and in a similar style. As it turns out, Bone Machine came out almost 7 years after Rain Dogs, and I forgot one golden rule about Tom Waits, and mostly all good artists, “always give them something fresh.”
Now that we are sufficiently up-to-date with my goings-on, and you have entertained my self-justifying apologies, let’s talk about Bone Machine.
Like Bob Dylan, Waits is consistently genre bending and redefining himself throughout his incredibly prolific long, 36+ year career. It seems that everybody has at least heard of him, and although I have met only a few people who consider themselves Tom Waits fans, the ones who do are die-hard. And it is easy to understand why.
Mr. Waits is, put bluntly in terms everyone will understand, pretty f-in’ weird. Especially on Bone Machine. His vocals sound like what a haggard, three packs a day, New Orleans blues guy would sound like if he mutated with a bulldog. He voice has got more rasps then a cheese grater. It is booming and sounds like what the monsters from Where the Wild Things are should have sounded like. I apologize (there I go again) for this stack of similes, but his voice is so animated and unique, it forces the listener to put an image to it. But just when you think you have a clear picture, Waits manipulates his voice so intricately that he becomes a different monster on the next track. He can howl at the moon like in “A Little Rain,” or he can be swampy and evil like in “In The Coliseum,” and he even throws on a lisp for “Jesus Gunna be Here.”
I knew his album The Heart of Saturday Night quite well before hearing Bone Machine today. It is basically piano lounge music, like Randy Newman but on a good day. The melodies and chord changes are very romantic, but in the Jack Kerouac sort of way, not the love making kind. They strut along, pulling your heartstrings while making you swing. Bone Machine brings that piano man style back for “Whistle in the Wind,” “A little Rain” and aspects of a few others, but most of the album is off in the other direction Waits has been headed toward every since his 1983 release, Swordfishtrombones. This direction is hard to explain, unless “freakish circus-from-hell singer-songwriter music” does it any justice.
“Earth Died Screaming” exemplifies this. It opens with clinks and clops, like people drumming in the sewer, followed by some sparse guitar and then Waits’ talk/growl. You feel like you are marching with a band of goblins on their way to dinner. Then, there is a huge explosion when the chorus hits. This bomb is not fuled by much, just from Waits escalating to a deeper, scarier, louder chant and bass drum hits on the 1 and 3 beat. It doesn’t take a lot to get start this fire. Lyrics from this song can seem just plain devilish, but the last line of the chorus gives it a twist which instills wit and a taste of humanity: “And the great day of wrath has come, and here's mud in your big red eye. The poker is in the fire and the locusts take the sky. And the earth died screaming while I lay dreaming of you.”
At one point, Waits is almost normal. He scales back his demonic voice during “I Don’t Want to Grow Up,” a song from the prospective of a child, looking out to the world and seeing the ugliness and struggle, and wishing to stay in his room and avoid it. Not only are the lyrics accessible, it is even structured like a basic folk rock song. I still wouldn’t put it on for your grandmother, though.
I am so glad I took the time to settle into an album of his from this era. Although it sometimes scared me half to death, I feel in love with the album's ability to evoke so many images. And I loved that through all the madness, you can still find that beautiful songwriting talent lingering from his Heart of Satruday Night days. No question, I am going to try and get his entire catalogue and devourer it. Especially Rain Dogs.
Day 33, Jethro Tull - Thick as a Brick
Stars: 3.75
Song: Well…it’s all one big song, so I’ll say Side A.
Money: 25$
For those of you who have only heard of Jethro Tull because of Anchorman, listen to Thick as a Brick. For those of you who only know Jethro Tull as “that band with a flute,” listen to Thick as a Brick. For those of you that think Juthro Tull is the name of a guy in the band, well you’re wrong, and you should really listen to Thick as a Brick.
This is Tull’s opus. It is the first full length, single song, concept album in rock and roll history, and it still stands as the most acclaimed. By me, at least. Jethro Tull, along with other British bands King Crimson and Yes pioneered the progressive rock movement out of the early 70’s. When Thick as a Brick came out in 1972, it caught prog’s wave which their previous, most popular, album Aqualung helped to create. Although Aqualung holds most of Tull’s greatest hits (as well as a mocking shout-out in one of the dumbest, yet most beloved movies of my generation), Thick as a Brick will remain their greatest achievement, even without any radio play; unless, of course, they ran the whole 46 minute piece.
It is possible to think of the album as a chain of rock songs, strung together by melodic and lyric themes, but it is easier to envision it as a classical piece that happens to rock really hard. The composition allows each movement to slowly blend instruments together, then settle into a melody, and eventually work their way into a repeated chord structure. Then, just how a classical piece rises and falls in and out of itself, we go through the process again in a completely new way. And just to remind you of where you are and what is perhaps 20 minutes behind you, Thick and a Brick quotes itself and revisits lyrics and melodies throughout.
The way Jethro Tull selectively uses certain instruments is also much like a symphony. Certain movements will have organ, some will have none; some movements will use flute, some won't; sometimes the guitar will be heavily distorted, and sometime it sound like an old acoustic in an Irish folk ensemble.
Song: Well…it’s all one big song, so I’ll say Side A.
Money: 25$
For those of you who have only heard of Jethro Tull because of Anchorman, listen to Thick as a Brick. For those of you who only know Jethro Tull as “that band with a flute,” listen to Thick as a Brick. For those of you that think Juthro Tull is the name of a guy in the band, well you’re wrong, and you should really listen to Thick as a Brick.
This is Tull’s opus. It is the first full length, single song, concept album in rock and roll history, and it still stands as the most acclaimed. By me, at least. Jethro Tull, along with other British bands King Crimson and Yes pioneered the progressive rock movement out of the early 70’s. When Thick as a Brick came out in 1972, it caught prog’s wave which their previous, most popular, album Aqualung helped to create. Although Aqualung holds most of Tull’s greatest hits (as well as a mocking shout-out in one of the dumbest, yet most beloved movies of my generation), Thick as a Brick will remain their greatest achievement, even without any radio play; unless, of course, they ran the whole 46 minute piece.
It is possible to think of the album as a chain of rock songs, strung together by melodic and lyric themes, but it is easier to envision it as a classical piece that happens to rock really hard. The composition allows each movement to slowly blend instruments together, then settle into a melody, and eventually work their way into a repeated chord structure. Then, just how a classical piece rises and falls in and out of itself, we go through the process again in a completely new way. And just to remind you of where you are and what is perhaps 20 minutes behind you, Thick and a Brick quotes itself and revisits lyrics and melodies throughout.
The way Jethro Tull selectively uses certain instruments is also much like a symphony. Certain movements will have organ, some will have none; some movements will use flute, some won't; sometimes the guitar will be heavily distorted, and sometime it sound like an old acoustic in an Irish folk ensemble.
Day 32, Hot Chip - One Life Stand
Stars: 1.25
Favorite Track: I Feel Better
Show: 4$
The same person who recommended Mastodon’s Crack the Skye, which is without question the heaviest album encountered so far during this project, also suggested Hot Chip’s One Life Stand, the wussiest album I’ve ever heard—ever. For his safety, I’ll keep Colin’s name a secret. But honestly, Weird Al could whoop these guy’s asses.
One Life Stand is the British electro indie-pop band’s most recent release. It should be a straight dance album, but it is infected with feelings. Personally, when rubbing myself up against a sweaty stranger in a dark, dank European club, I don't like to be interrupted by someone' lamentations about their mother. One Life Stand is rooted in dance, but everything else seems to be pulling—yanking—away from that. In fact, the only things that make this a dance album at all are the beats and certain effects. Listen to “Feel Better.” Take away the techno beat, and trash the cheesy syths and auto-tune, and you have your self a great Annie Lenox song!
So it is clear, then, that this album is not meant to spin on repeat at London’s, 20 quid cover, dance clubs near Lester Square. It is supposed to be something you sit down to and reflect on after a receiving a disheartening text-message from your crush.
Lyrically these guys can’t cut it either. “My friend once told me something so right, he said to be careful of thieves in the night.” Very true! In fact, I just told my friend the same thing last week after finding out he doesn’t lock his front door. “Two people are alley cats. We have an unhappy cat…Monkey grooms, blossoms bloom. Do you dig germs? the germs.” No comment. “I can play 'Xbox' with my brother. It's not about who won or lost with my brother. We play to be free.” This is bad, but they try to save it and make it about the effect of new baby joining a family, but by the time we get to “when will we be three again, my brothers?” the damage is done. There are loads more gems like these, but I’ll leave them for you to find—like a scavenger hunt!
Well, here is one more: “Humuna, humuna, humuna, humuna (x1000000).”
In it's defense, One Life Stand can be catchy. The title track bumps and has a nice hook. The chorus slides up into a major key, leading it toward a climactic rejoice, but then it is mauled by a ferocious, dissonant synth line which is plopped right on top, the way a disgruntled lunch lady serves mac and cheese. Put this song, "Thieves in the Night," "Feel Better" or "We Have Love" in the background of a moderately energetic party and nobody will miss a beat, but try to avoid direct contact, especially with the "touchy-feely" tunes.
Favorite Track: I Feel Better
Show: 4$
The same person who recommended Mastodon’s Crack the Skye, which is without question the heaviest album encountered so far during this project, also suggested Hot Chip’s One Life Stand, the wussiest album I’ve ever heard—ever. For his safety, I’ll keep Colin’s name a secret. But honestly, Weird Al could whoop these guy’s asses.
One Life Stand is the British electro indie-pop band’s most recent release. It should be a straight dance album, but it is infected with feelings. Personally, when rubbing myself up against a sweaty stranger in a dark, dank European club, I don't like to be interrupted by someone' lamentations about their mother. One Life Stand is rooted in dance, but everything else seems to be pulling—yanking—away from that. In fact, the only things that make this a dance album at all are the beats and certain effects. Listen to “Feel Better.” Take away the techno beat, and trash the cheesy syths and auto-tune, and you have your self a great Annie Lenox song!
So it is clear, then, that this album is not meant to spin on repeat at London’s, 20 quid cover, dance clubs near Lester Square. It is supposed to be something you sit down to and reflect on after a receiving a disheartening text-message from your crush.
Lyrically these guys can’t cut it either. “My friend once told me something so right, he said to be careful of thieves in the night.” Very true! In fact, I just told my friend the same thing last week after finding out he doesn’t lock his front door. “Two people are alley cats. We have an unhappy cat…Monkey grooms, blossoms bloom. Do you dig germs? the germs.” No comment. “I can play 'Xbox' with my brother. It's not about who won or lost with my brother. We play to be free.” This is bad, but they try to save it and make it about the effect of new baby joining a family, but by the time we get to “when will we be three again, my brothers?” the damage is done. There are loads more gems like these, but I’ll leave them for you to find—like a scavenger hunt!
Well, here is one more: “Humuna, humuna, humuna, humuna (x1000000).”
In it's defense, One Life Stand can be catchy. The title track bumps and has a nice hook. The chorus slides up into a major key, leading it toward a climactic rejoice, but then it is mauled by a ferocious, dissonant synth line which is plopped right on top, the way a disgruntled lunch lady serves mac and cheese. Put this song, "Thieves in the Night," "Feel Better" or "We Have Love" in the background of a moderately energetic party and nobody will miss a beat, but try to avoid direct contact, especially with the "touchy-feely" tunes.
Day 31, Mastodon - Crack the Skye
Stars: 4
Song: The Last Baron
Show: 40$
Mastodon hooks what we know and love of metal, reels it in, and then casts back out again to find more. We get a taste of metal’s roots with Ozzy Osborn-style vocals, some Tool-ish expressive ambiance, some head banging force like Slayer, and they even polish a few heavy grooves like Rage Against the Machine. I’ll stop there, because I don’t want to overwhelm this review with comparisons. Mastodon deserves more than that. Every metal group I have tried so desperately to love (all groups named above, Megadeath, Iron Maiden, The Sword, Primus) satisfies at least one, but never all of these characteristics: energy, exploration, fantastic lyrics, technical mastery, deep understand of and ability to use theory, driving rhythm, and cohesive melodies. Mastodon has them all. Their guitars will melt your face, their tactful modulation in and out of time signatures and keys will test you, and yet they keep you involved by not breaking up the groove to harshly. And throughout all of this, they maintain an ear for melody.
This album has long, journeying songs, as well as tighter ones, and Crack the Skye benefits from both. The first track, “Oblivion,” although perhaps a minute too long for consistent radio play at 5:45, could definitely be a commercial hit. To be able to fill a six minute track with such a high level of musicianship, power, and creative exploration and still say that it is kind of catchy is a groundbreaking achievement. “Oblivion” still draws from the same stuff as it’s two 13+ minute brothers, “The Czar” and “The Last Baron.” That "stuff" is like a spaceship that packs enough energy to shoot itself through unknown territory, appearing to careen wildly, but actually carrying out an extremely well calculated route. The long tracks are not filled directionless jams or pointless ambiance; they have a course which is clear from the beginning. What is not clear, though, is what you will find along the way.
Song: The Last Baron
Show: 40$
Mastodon hooks what we know and love of metal, reels it in, and then casts back out again to find more. We get a taste of metal’s roots with Ozzy Osborn-style vocals, some Tool-ish expressive ambiance, some head banging force like Slayer, and they even polish a few heavy grooves like Rage Against the Machine. I’ll stop there, because I don’t want to overwhelm this review with comparisons. Mastodon deserves more than that. Every metal group I have tried so desperately to love (all groups named above, Megadeath, Iron Maiden, The Sword, Primus) satisfies at least one, but never all of these characteristics: energy, exploration, fantastic lyrics, technical mastery, deep understand of and ability to use theory, driving rhythm, and cohesive melodies. Mastodon has them all. Their guitars will melt your face, their tactful modulation in and out of time signatures and keys will test you, and yet they keep you involved by not breaking up the groove to harshly. And throughout all of this, they maintain an ear for melody.
This album has long, journeying songs, as well as tighter ones, and Crack the Skye benefits from both. The first track, “Oblivion,” although perhaps a minute too long for consistent radio play at 5:45, could definitely be a commercial hit. To be able to fill a six minute track with such a high level of musicianship, power, and creative exploration and still say that it is kind of catchy is a groundbreaking achievement. “Oblivion” still draws from the same stuff as it’s two 13+ minute brothers, “The Czar” and “The Last Baron.” That "stuff" is like a spaceship that packs enough energy to shoot itself through unknown territory, appearing to careen wildly, but actually carrying out an extremely well calculated route. The long tracks are not filled directionless jams or pointless ambiance; they have a course which is clear from the beginning. What is not clear, though, is what you will find along the way.
Day 30, Flying Lotus - Cosmogramma
Stars: I don’t know. There are moments on this album that actually hurt. Both the insides of my ears and my poor little brain trying to process some of the most abrasive foreign noises I have ever heard are throbbing right now. The mastering volume on Cosmogramma is incredibly high, which is impressive actually, but by no means comfortable. But he saves himself from becoming a musical guillotine by adding a sprinkling of tender moments like “Intro/a Cosmic Drama” and a few cohesive melodies in tracks such as “Do the Astral Plane.” These and a few other moments of clarity give me the strength to take a shot at the rest of the chaos, and now that I have done it, and have realized that it isn’t chaos at all. It is, in fact, quite beautiful. But it is beautiful in the way that the atom bomb is. A disastrous invention where it is clear that we are now smarter because of it, but it is unclear if we would have been better of with out it.
Also, I am so confused about the tracking. He’ll switch beats mid-song, or sometimes carry the groove from the previous track into the next. This makes it impossible to lineate the album. But on the other hand, it is interesting because it erases the idea that song titles are merely captions. Maybe they are used as a way to bridge gaps in musical thoughts. Or maybe he uses words simply as aesthetic choices which describe the abstractions in his music. But neither of these ideas fit consistently, which makes me think that maybe it’s all free associative and there is no real reason behind it, which seems like the most likely answer, but also the most pessimistic.
Cosmogramma has some of the most crafted, expansive soundscapes I’ve ever heard, but I am tempted to simply write it off as “too much.” So, for stars, I’ll go with either 2 or 4. You pick which one you agree with more.
Favorite Song: There are only a few “songs” on this album. A lot of Cosmogramma floats in and out of itself, begging and ending ideas mid-track. But if I had to choose: “Galaxy in Janaki” and the first half of “…and the World Laughs With You.” However, the aspect of this album I enjoy most is the way he incorporates jazz in the midst of his cosmic, techno-hip-hop freak-outs. For the literal, take “Arkestry” where he mashes together a number of samples from old jazz standards. But check the bass solo throughout “Pickled.” This is probably the jazziest thing on Cosmogramma, and it rips the pants off of anything else on this album. It sounds like Jaco Pastorius if he were to turn into an anime superhero. But this didn’t make it as my favorite track because the ground it stands on is a little bit like a treadmill that is turned up too fast. It flies underneath your feet and all you can do is hope to god you can keep up.
Show: I am sort of recovering from this album experience, so I am not sure if I am, or ever will be ready. I feel like I just worked a 20 hour bar tending shift and I am lying on my tile bathroom floor, swearing to never go back to that god awful place, yet grinning at that huge wad of cash in my pocket. My ears are tired and I don’t think it was worth going through, but I know that I have gained something from Cosmogramma. So the thought of adding any sort of light show to the mix just sounds like it would mess with my brain beyond recovery.
Also, I am so confused about the tracking. He’ll switch beats mid-song, or sometimes carry the groove from the previous track into the next. This makes it impossible to lineate the album. But on the other hand, it is interesting because it erases the idea that song titles are merely captions. Maybe they are used as a way to bridge gaps in musical thoughts. Or maybe he uses words simply as aesthetic choices which describe the abstractions in his music. But neither of these ideas fit consistently, which makes me think that maybe it’s all free associative and there is no real reason behind it, which seems like the most likely answer, but also the most pessimistic.
Cosmogramma has some of the most crafted, expansive soundscapes I’ve ever heard, but I am tempted to simply write it off as “too much.” So, for stars, I’ll go with either 2 or 4. You pick which one you agree with more.
Favorite Song: There are only a few “songs” on this album. A lot of Cosmogramma floats in and out of itself, begging and ending ideas mid-track. But if I had to choose: “Galaxy in Janaki” and the first half of “…and the World Laughs With You.” However, the aspect of this album I enjoy most is the way he incorporates jazz in the midst of his cosmic, techno-hip-hop freak-outs. For the literal, take “Arkestry” where he mashes together a number of samples from old jazz standards. But check the bass solo throughout “Pickled.” This is probably the jazziest thing on Cosmogramma, and it rips the pants off of anything else on this album. It sounds like Jaco Pastorius if he were to turn into an anime superhero. But this didn’t make it as my favorite track because the ground it stands on is a little bit like a treadmill that is turned up too fast. It flies underneath your feet and all you can do is hope to god you can keep up.
Show: I am sort of recovering from this album experience, so I am not sure if I am, or ever will be ready. I feel like I just worked a 20 hour bar tending shift and I am lying on my tile bathroom floor, swearing to never go back to that god awful place, yet grinning at that huge wad of cash in my pocket. My ears are tired and I don’t think it was worth going through, but I know that I have gained something from Cosmogramma. So the thought of adding any sort of light show to the mix just sounds like it would mess with my brain beyond recovery.
Day 29, Drive-By Truckers - Brighter than Creation's Dark
Stars: 2.5
Song: “Two Daughters and a Wife,” “Three Dimes Down,” “Self Destructive Zones”
Live: $18
I had heard one Drive-By Truckers song years ago,and I never forgot the band. Not because of the song - I can't remember a single thing about it - but because of the catchy band name. (Let that be a lesson to you. Band name does matter.) Since I remembered nothing about the music, I used my analytical skills and deciphered the name in order to make an assumption on how it was going to sound: “Truckers”—a truck driver is probably number two on Jeff Foxworthy’s list of redneck jobs, and it is common knowledge that there is nothing rednecks like more than country rock. But the “drive by” evoked an edginess and depth that goes beyond your average Garth Brooks. It suggests murder, recklessness, cowardice, and anger. So I tagged it as hard country rock. And I was 85% right.
The album title Brighter than Creations Dark should have told me right away that this wasn’t going to be a Dwight Yoakam sing along. And although I got that right, the album still took me by surprise. I was not expecting “Two Daughters and a Beautiful Wife” to be the first out of the gates. This is a tender song about dying and remembering how beautiful life was. One thing I have learned throughout this whole 80 Albums in 80 Days ordeal is the importance of the first track on an album. In this instance, this first song demanded that I take Drive-By Truckers more seriously than if they had started with “Three Dimes Down” which sings, “Totally screwed, while chicken wing puke eats the candy apple red off his Corvette.” Even though this is one of my favorite songs on the album, if it were first, I would take “The Man I Shot” as a joke, I would hardly even consider “Purgatory Line,” and I would toss “Bob” out the window faster that you could say “peanut butter sandwich.” But because I trusted so much in this first track, I took my time to try and trust songs like “Bob.” I thought to myself, is this line, “Bob will drink a beer or two every now and again, he always had more dogs than he ever had friends?” all that bad? Here’s the kicker: yes, it is.
All in all, the album falls a little short. For one, it is a little confused. They sound like a completely different band from song to song. You have Dolly Parton singing “Home Field Advantage,” Toby Keith doing “Lisa’s Birthday,” the Marlboro Man doing “Monument Valley,” the guy from Soul Asylum doing “The Man I Shot,” and Mick Jagger on “Three Dimes Down.” Typically, I love mixing it up, but this just feels a little longwinded, like a run-on sentence with too many different thoughts crammed in.
I do like their style, though. These guys would put on a hell of an outdoor concert: people tailgating behind their pickups, cooking meat and holding beer wrapped in coozies with the Alabama or South Carolina state flag stamped on it, and everyone is stomping their feet yelling "You're taking me dooooowwwn with that home feild advantage!" And when the sun goes down and the beer runs out, tracks like “Two Daughters…” and “Purgatory Line” sends everybody home sleeply and smiling.
Song: “Two Daughters and a Wife,” “Three Dimes Down,” “Self Destructive Zones”
Live: $18
I had heard one Drive-By Truckers song years ago,and I never forgot the band. Not because of the song - I can't remember a single thing about it - but because of the catchy band name. (Let that be a lesson to you. Band name does matter.) Since I remembered nothing about the music, I used my analytical skills and deciphered the name in order to make an assumption on how it was going to sound: “Truckers”—a truck driver is probably number two on Jeff Foxworthy’s list of redneck jobs, and it is common knowledge that there is nothing rednecks like more than country rock. But the “drive by” evoked an edginess and depth that goes beyond your average Garth Brooks. It suggests murder, recklessness, cowardice, and anger. So I tagged it as hard country rock. And I was 85% right.
The album title Brighter than Creations Dark should have told me right away that this wasn’t going to be a Dwight Yoakam sing along. And although I got that right, the album still took me by surprise. I was not expecting “Two Daughters and a Beautiful Wife” to be the first out of the gates. This is a tender song about dying and remembering how beautiful life was. One thing I have learned throughout this whole 80 Albums in 80 Days ordeal is the importance of the first track on an album. In this instance, this first song demanded that I take Drive-By Truckers more seriously than if they had started with “Three Dimes Down” which sings, “Totally screwed, while chicken wing puke eats the candy apple red off his Corvette.” Even though this is one of my favorite songs on the album, if it were first, I would take “The Man I Shot” as a joke, I would hardly even consider “Purgatory Line,” and I would toss “Bob” out the window faster that you could say “peanut butter sandwich.” But because I trusted so much in this first track, I took my time to try and trust songs like “Bob.” I thought to myself, is this line, “Bob will drink a beer or two every now and again, he always had more dogs than he ever had friends?” all that bad? Here’s the kicker: yes, it is.
All in all, the album falls a little short. For one, it is a little confused. They sound like a completely different band from song to song. You have Dolly Parton singing “Home Field Advantage,” Toby Keith doing “Lisa’s Birthday,” the Marlboro Man doing “Monument Valley,” the guy from Soul Asylum doing “The Man I Shot,” and Mick Jagger on “Three Dimes Down.” Typically, I love mixing it up, but this just feels a little longwinded, like a run-on sentence with too many different thoughts crammed in.
I do like their style, though. These guys would put on a hell of an outdoor concert: people tailgating behind their pickups, cooking meat and holding beer wrapped in coozies with the Alabama or South Carolina state flag stamped on it, and everyone is stomping their feet yelling "You're taking me dooooowwwn with that home feild advantage!" And when the sun goes down and the beer runs out, tracks like “Two Daughters…” and “Purgatory Line” sends everybody home sleeply and smiling.
Day 28, The Devil Makes Three - Longjohns, Boots, and a belt
I apologize for the delay...
Stars: 2.5
Song: "Man Tap"
Live: $4
I could write a bland review for the Devil Makes Three - Longjohns, Boots and a Belt. I could say that their country twang has the right attitude. I could say that they have a nice blend of tradition and contemporary; that they are stripped down to two guitars and a bass, but add a certain flare that keeps them from sounding like they are simply covering the old stuff. I could say that they are good at upholding the tradition of songs about drinking, troubles, and lost loves, and are working to find their own voice. I could talk about how their chops are a bit sloppy and the rhythm flutters off at times. And I could say that it is clear that these guys grew up playing along to Led Zeppelin and Nirvana, but really put in a good effort to scale it back.
But my good friend Colin told me the other day to be a little edgier, and since I do not yet have an editor to take advice from, I’ll have to take his.
I appreciate their attempt to be down and dirty southerners, but I could make just as good music drunk off my ass on Smirnoff Ice—wouldn’t even need soul warming bourbon to get this type of engine running--with a couple buddies around a campfire. I can picture these dudes all dolled up in cowboy rags playing an Arizona State frat bar, half wishing they were in Austin playing to a bunch of old cowboys, but gladly taking every Jager-bomb handed to them.
But maybe that’s too harsh. They are not complete hacks. Longjohns, Boots, and a Belt maintains a solid set of songs, with only one or two completely floundering out. “Never Learn,” Sweeping,” and “Tow,” for example, are completely decent songs and lyrically, they draw inside the lines of country rock music…
…like they were obedient 2nd graders whose teacher is Bradley Nowell of Sublime and the day’s subject is Johnny Cash.
In truth, The Devil Makes Three seems like an attempt at recreating instead of playing what naturally comes.
Stars: 2.5
Song: "Man Tap"
Live: $4
I could write a bland review for the Devil Makes Three - Longjohns, Boots and a Belt. I could say that their country twang has the right attitude. I could say that they have a nice blend of tradition and contemporary; that they are stripped down to two guitars and a bass, but add a certain flare that keeps them from sounding like they are simply covering the old stuff. I could say that they are good at upholding the tradition of songs about drinking, troubles, and lost loves, and are working to find their own voice. I could talk about how their chops are a bit sloppy and the rhythm flutters off at times. And I could say that it is clear that these guys grew up playing along to Led Zeppelin and Nirvana, but really put in a good effort to scale it back.
But my good friend Colin told me the other day to be a little edgier, and since I do not yet have an editor to take advice from, I’ll have to take his.
I appreciate their attempt to be down and dirty southerners, but I could make just as good music drunk off my ass on Smirnoff Ice—wouldn’t even need soul warming bourbon to get this type of engine running--with a couple buddies around a campfire. I can picture these dudes all dolled up in cowboy rags playing an Arizona State frat bar, half wishing they were in Austin playing to a bunch of old cowboys, but gladly taking every Jager-bomb handed to them.
But maybe that’s too harsh. They are not complete hacks. Longjohns, Boots, and a Belt maintains a solid set of songs, with only one or two completely floundering out. “Never Learn,” Sweeping,” and “Tow,” for example, are completely decent songs and lyrically, they draw inside the lines of country rock music…
…like they were obedient 2nd graders whose teacher is Bradley Nowell of Sublime and the day’s subject is Johnny Cash.
In truth, The Devil Makes Three seems like an attempt at recreating instead of playing what naturally comes.
Day 27, Tin Hat Trio - The Rodeo Eroded
Stars: 3.5
Favorite Track: Bill, Night of the Skeptic
Show: 25$
I look up to my good friend Peter for a lot of things: his incessant energy to do things (as long as it is before 11:30pm), his taste for good beer, his skill and passion for art, his tolerance for spicy foods, his hash browns and tomatillo salsa, his skateboard skills, his handy-man and trade skills, his documentary on NGO's in Sierra Leon, and his knowledge of world music. Tin Hat Trio The Rodeo Eroded and Tinariwen Aman Iman were both his suggestions, and both of which have taught me something about music. Tinariwen showed me what music can sound like when done with confidence, and Tin Hat Trio has taught me the power of being well cross-cultured. Before I go any further, I need to humble my dear friend first and say that he also suggested Cat Power You are Free which I remorselessly bashed earlier in the week.
But I do truly thank him for suggesting this album not only because it is great, but also because it was exactly what I needed at this stage in the game. I have gotten almost a third of the way through this silly little mission and, just how all routines cycle through different stages of agreeability, I have begun to dread putting those two plastic cups over my ears and absorb god-knows-what while I trudge through the dungeons of New York City. It sometimes feels like a battle deciphering lyric-heavy, self or socio-analytical albums against the grind of metal train tracks, then sitting down to write judgments on each album after two to four listens—like setting myself upon a soap-box that I don’t think can hold my weight.
That was yesterday, though. Today, I was given a break and a chance to smile listening to primarily instrumental The Rodeo Eroded. The Tin Hat Trio has a core of three musicians: There is a duke of keys, a king of strings, and queen of bow. Each brings their own separate talents and influences. The “king” plays an accoustic six string, a steel guitar, a dobro, and more, and the “duke” handles his accordion and piano quite well. They occasionally invite other musicians to subtly flavor their stew, including Willie Nelson, Billy Martin of MMW, and Jon Fishman of Phish. The Rodeo Eroded covers jazz, avant-garde jazz, eastern European jazz, eastern European folk, bluegrass, blues, country and American folk.
So…
The Rodeo Eroded is dressed in 1920’s blue-collar garb, and it hangs out in a jazz club filled with smoke and sullen people in the basement of New York City building. It talks to itself, sometimes snarls at the slow bar tender, but then smiles and makes it all better. Once it gets its cup of luke-warm vodka, it sets itself on stage under dim lights, plays, and never looks at the audience.
The Rodeo Eroded wishes it was in Paris or on a bus to see its grandmother. It fidgets around uneasily between songs, then drinks, coughs, and picks up again. It wishes it had never come to New York and refuses to remember the good reason which convinced it to. It loves a girl, and she loves it, and they meet twice a month in Connecticut, which is the best they can do. She thinks it’s smart, but it doesn’t know why because it’s drunk most of the time they are together. Still, they have a good time staying in and watching movies together and kissing. She drifts in and out of its head while it plays.
The Rodeo Eroded can have fun, but not nearly as much as it used to. It is, in fact, tired from all the fun it had “back in the day,” but these are positive memories, mostly. It remembers its family fondly, though circumstance has moved them apart. Once it’s set it over, it thinks about calling them, but orders another drink instead and laughs to itself.
Follow this link to listen: http://www.puremusic.com/listen13.html
Favorite Track: Bill, Night of the Skeptic
Show: 25$
I look up to my good friend Peter for a lot of things: his incessant energy to do things (as long as it is before 11:30pm), his taste for good beer, his skill and passion for art, his tolerance for spicy foods, his hash browns and tomatillo salsa, his skateboard skills, his handy-man and trade skills, his documentary on NGO's in Sierra Leon, and his knowledge of world music. Tin Hat Trio The Rodeo Eroded and Tinariwen Aman Iman were both his suggestions, and both of which have taught me something about music. Tinariwen showed me what music can sound like when done with confidence, and Tin Hat Trio has taught me the power of being well cross-cultured. Before I go any further, I need to humble my dear friend first and say that he also suggested Cat Power You are Free which I remorselessly bashed earlier in the week.
But I do truly thank him for suggesting this album not only because it is great, but also because it was exactly what I needed at this stage in the game. I have gotten almost a third of the way through this silly little mission and, just how all routines cycle through different stages of agreeability, I have begun to dread putting those two plastic cups over my ears and absorb god-knows-what while I trudge through the dungeons of New York City. It sometimes feels like a battle deciphering lyric-heavy, self or socio-analytical albums against the grind of metal train tracks, then sitting down to write judgments on each album after two to four listens—like setting myself upon a soap-box that I don’t think can hold my weight.
That was yesterday, though. Today, I was given a break and a chance to smile listening to primarily instrumental The Rodeo Eroded. The Tin Hat Trio has a core of three musicians: There is a duke of keys, a king of strings, and queen of bow. Each brings their own separate talents and influences. The “king” plays an accoustic six string, a steel guitar, a dobro, and more, and the “duke” handles his accordion and piano quite well. They occasionally invite other musicians to subtly flavor their stew, including Willie Nelson, Billy Martin of MMW, and Jon Fishman of Phish. The Rodeo Eroded covers jazz, avant-garde jazz, eastern European jazz, eastern European folk, bluegrass, blues, country and American folk.
So…
The Rodeo Eroded is dressed in 1920’s blue-collar garb, and it hangs out in a jazz club filled with smoke and sullen people in the basement of New York City building. It talks to itself, sometimes snarls at the slow bar tender, but then smiles and makes it all better. Once it gets its cup of luke-warm vodka, it sets itself on stage under dim lights, plays, and never looks at the audience.
The Rodeo Eroded wishes it was in Paris or on a bus to see its grandmother. It fidgets around uneasily between songs, then drinks, coughs, and picks up again. It wishes it had never come to New York and refuses to remember the good reason which convinced it to. It loves a girl, and she loves it, and they meet twice a month in Connecticut, which is the best they can do. She thinks it’s smart, but it doesn’t know why because it’s drunk most of the time they are together. Still, they have a good time staying in and watching movies together and kissing. She drifts in and out of its head while it plays.
The Rodeo Eroded can have fun, but not nearly as much as it used to. It is, in fact, tired from all the fun it had “back in the day,” but these are positive memories, mostly. It remembers its family fondly, though circumstance has moved them apart. Once it’s set it over, it thinks about calling them, but orders another drink instead and laughs to itself.
Follow this link to listen: http://www.puremusic.com/listen13.html
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