a coherent collection of random statements regarding God, words and tunes

Time to give credit where it's due....

     Last entry, I tweaked Andre Salles (he of the usually profusely lauded Tuesday Morning 3 a.m.) for advocating the wonders of Keane. Although, as alluded to, I was pretty sure he was right about two other recent releases (and I'm hoping to find out about a third one soon). And after the advocation of the last Lost Dogs album some months back, he NEEDED to get back on the "right" track.

    I'm happy to report that we are in complete agreement about these next two. And unlike the original column in which these two were covered, I'm going in ascending order rather than descending.

     First, let's talk about the latest by everyone's favorite futuristic hip-hop heavy-metal soft-funk shitkicker. That's right: We're talking 'bout Beck's The Information.

          Obviously, one of the boy's charms has been that you never know what you're going to get next. Thus, it's odd that the charge that was leveled at Guero -- i.e, that it was too similar to Odelay (a charge that stuck far more musically than lyrically) -- is far more appropriate to The Information, which doesn't advance the musical department and drops off significantly in the lyrical one. Honestly, it sounds like a collection of B-sides from the last 10 years.

     Which is to say: It's got moments, especially early on, but doesn't really hold together and doesn't tell us anything new about the artist. In some ways that makes sense, as this album's been in the works for three years, from Sea Change on (during which time Guero was produced). But for this artist, saying nothing new is something new.

     But again, there's moments here, and if you're already a Beck fan you'll probably want them. "Elevator Music" and "Think I'm in Love" are both thoroughly catchy tunes, and the threatens-to-be-interesting-but-isn't-quite "Cellphone's Dead" is followed by the bouncy Gram-Parsons-on-happy-pills "Strange Apparition." Three out of four to open it up ain't bad. But that's as good as the odds get.

     The draggy/druggy "Soldier Jane" is OK, but more there for atmosphere. "Nausea" is about as straight-ahead funky as the boy gets this time around, and it WILL stick in yr head. The blippy, lo-fi, randomly acoustic "New Round" actually sounds a lot like my good buddy Jai Agnish (whose Mechanical Sunshine was reviewed back in September) -- and incredibly, I'd rather hear Jai do this than Beck.

     "Dark Star" would've fit nicely on Sea Change, but wouldn't've really added anything to that masterpiece, so it's just as well that it's here instead. "We Dance Alone" is a stripped down hip-hop tune, while "No Complaints" sounds like Wire's "Strange" turned into a country synthesizer tune. Both are enjoyable while they're on and pretty forgettable thereafter. "1000 BPM" is noisy and not much else.

     "Motorcade" is probably the most interesting song on the album -- more stripped-down guitar hooks with lots of interesting percussion, and while I don't know exactly what the Little White Duke means by "We're all pushing up the tin can mountaintop" it certainly makes enough sense at the time.

    I could mention the title song, the eery-and-that's all "Movie Theme" and the entirely-too-long-and-spacy suite of "The Horrible Fanfare/Landslide Exoskeleton." And I just did. Enough said.

     What can I say? It's just aw'ight, dawgs.

     *******************************

     By the way, something is very wrong with the world when the best album of the year so far STILL belongs to SPARKS. Just sayin'.

      Not to mention that the #2 album just might end up belonging to another funny guy from California.

     Yes, boys and girls, Weird Al Yankovic is back. And then some.

     To be honest, his last album Poodle Hat was pretty lame. (And I simply don't say that about Weird Al-bums. And I own Polka Party, for crying out loud.) Let's just call that one a transitional album -- the guy finally got married, after all, and to give credit where it's due, it's not everyone who can exhibit sufficient musical chops to parody (of all people) Frank Zappa, as the closer "Genius in France" exhibited.

      And that's something you really notice with Straight Outta Lynwood (if you didn't pick up on it with Running with Scissors) -- "holy $#^$, the guy's actually a musician!" Not to say that there isn't the requisite cheesy polka suite and any number of laugh-out-loud moments here. But every so often, you actually find yourself impressed as well. Anyway:
     "White and Nerdy" you've already heard, and if you haven't, for shame. Go make it happen. The video, also included on the CD (as are several others), featuring, um, dance moves from Donny Osmond, is equally not to be missed.
     But let's get to that musician stuff. It seems like a lot of Weird Al fans are turned off by "Pancreas," but I don't get it. It is, quite simply, the great lost Brian Wilson Smile track (although granted, the opening verses are actually ripping off "God Only Knows"). More than you ever wanted to know about that great overlooked internal organ, set to a drop-dead perfect c.1967 Beach Boys arrangement. If you're not laughing uncontrollably at...

My pancreas attracts every other pancreas in the universe
With a force proportional to the product of their masses
And inversely proportional to the distance between them

      ...you simply don't know your rock-and-roll rubber-room history. Then to follow that the "Good Vibrations"-ish "Don'tcha you know you gotta flow, flow, flow, pancreatic juice / Flow, flow, into the duodenum...." OK, maybe it's just me, but you almost wonder if Al finally discovered the wonders of lysergic acid in his 40s. Anyway, I think it's wonderful. I love, I really love, my "Pancreas."
 
     "Canadian Idiot" is exactly what you think it is. And it's very, very funny.

    The next potential entry for favorite song would be the Kid Rockin' "I'll Sue Ya," which manages to diss both my old home state ("I sued Delta Airlines / 'Cause they sold me a ticket to New Jersey / I went there, and it sucked!") and my new one ("I sued Colorado / 'Cause you know, I think it looks a little bit too much like Wyoming" -- guess Al's spent too much time on the eastern prairies). And of course, the entirely gratuitous but always funny, "I sued Ben Affleck ... (band vamps on, behind Al's conspicuous silence)... awwwww, do I even need a REASON???" Not to mention the equally gratuitously funny chest-thump, "BOO-ya! I'll SUE ya'!!!"

      "Polkarama" is your standard polka medley, and as always, makes you realize how ridiculous much of pop music really is; while "Virus Alert" sounds like, dare I suggest it, the abovementioned Sparks, what with the mock-classical melody and falsetto vocals. I'm not sure that's where he's heading, but anyway, it works.

     "Confessions Part III' gets a little borderline in its imagery, what with all this talk of skanks and the "confession," "Oh and sometimes in private, I really like to dress up as Shirley Temple and spank myself with a hockey stick." Still, the admission that "Just when I thought I said all I could say / I needed to get some things off my chest right away.... Slipped my mind the last two times, silly me / I guess I gotta give you part three of my confessions...." And the great literally sexual throwaway line, "I'm sooooooooo sorry Debbie! / I mean, Bridget!" Yeah, it works.

      "Weasel Stomping Day" is a, um, lovely holiday song, complete with crunching weasel sounds, and the blithe assertion, "It's tradition, so that makes it OK." You know whether you want to dare to listen to it or not.

      "Close But No Cigar" is the final contender for favorite here. Aside from the concept of bringing Cake to a wider audience, there's any number of killer metaphors and similes here, including "Her kisses reconfigured my DNA... and I loved her even more than Marlon Brando loved soufflé," "She got me all choked up like Mama Cass," and, of course, "She was so pretty she made Charlize Theron look like a big fat slobbering pig." I'll let you discover the "faults" that make Al drop each dream girl for yourself.

    Al's equally standard stalker song, "Do I Creep You Out?" comes next. And let's face it: Isn't that what we all think of each time we see or hear Taylor Hicks?

     Then comes the epic "Trapped in the Drive-Thru" -- which, unlike R. Kelly, is trying to be funny (or at least is actually succeeding). The amazing thing is that you actually roll with this thing for 10+ minutes, in all its big-sounding ludicrousness:

I hopped up and I said
"I don't know, do you want to get something delivered?"
She's like "Why would I want to eat liver? I don't even like liiiiiiiiiiiver!"
I'm like, "No, I said 'delivered'."
She's, like, "I heard you say liiiiiiiiiiiiver!"
I'm, like, "I should know what I said..."
She's like "Whatever -- I just don't want any liiiiiiiiiiver!"

and

"Then we drive to the drive-thru!
Heading off to the drive-thru!
We're approaching the drive-thru!
Getting close to the drive-thru!
Almost there at the drive-thru!
Now we're here at the drive thru!
Here in line at the drive-thru!
Did I mention the drive-thru?"

     Just take my word for it.
 
     And last but not least, the anthemic closer, "Don't Download This Song" (which, of course, can be downloaded from Al's Myspace site). There's been enough "We Are the World" comparisons, and there's no point in bucking the trend. It's a goofy and pointed plea, offered from the view of the record companies, which opens with the sheer poetry of, "Once in a while, maybe you will feel the urge / To break international copyright law." It only gets worse from there:

But deep in your heart you know the guilt would drive you mad
And the shame would leave a permanent scar
'Cause you start out stealing songs and then you're robbing liquor stores
And sellin' crack and runnin' over schoolkids with your car

So don't download this song
The record store's where you belong
Go and buy the CD, like you know that you should
Oh, don't download this song

Oh, you don't wanna mess with the R-I-double-A
They'll sue you if you burn that CD-R
It doesn't matter if you're a grandma or a seven-year-old girl
They'll treat you like the evil hard-bitten criminal scum you are

    Special props for the line, "Don't donwload this song / Even Lars Ulrich knows it's wrong," as well as for the anguished cry at the fade: "Just BUY it, you cheap bastards!!!"

    So get out there already. Or don't.

Posted by: burninglight at 01:13 | link | comments

A quick one while I'm away....

     First, obviously haven't been able to get to those reviews -- although a verdict on Keane has already been determined. Tim the One-Lunged Beanpole beats Andre the Musical Giant in a knockout -- whiny U2 imitations don't get it done for me by a long stretch. (That said, Andre may well be correct about the other two candidates up for review -- he's spot-on with at least one, and I'm still confirming the other. I'm pretty sure they'll have their day in court soon, either way.)

     A REALLY long column on Patti Smith is somewhere down the line, as both Marion & I are digging on her heavily these days. But there's still some yawning gaps in my collection that need to be filled first. (I am ashamed to admit that I have yet to hear Easter. You heard it here first, boys and girls.)

   In the meantime, still transitioning -- new job responsibilities, another man in the house for the first time in 37 years, etc. And another open mic. Tomorrow night's proposed set:

"Lone Rhinoceros," Adrian Belew (provided there's no kids in the room )
"God Went Bowling," The Swirling Eddies
"Dancing Barefoot," Patti Smith
"One Good Year," Slaid Cleaves
"The Rose Above the Sky," Bruce Cockburn

     Until then....

Posted by: burninglight at 20:34 | link | comments