Country music is America’s royal-blooded black sheep. Names like Cash, the Louvin Brothers, Hank, George, and Loretta just to name a few, and are a line-up of controversy unquestioned, but also devastating revelation.
When the commercial force of music mutated during the seventies and eighties, country music had to move along with it. The kind of “roots” identity that had been highlighted in previous decades began to draw from rock and pop music. Kitty Wells gave way to Olivia Newton-John, CMT appeared on the national scene, and all your rowdy friends came over to watch football. They were changing with the times, and still are legitimate, if not popular names in country music today, that represent a large percentage of consumption and common perception.
This gave birth to aggressive and darker sub-genres, and old-school purists looking for banners to unite under. Hellbilly was influenced by punk and metal, not only as a driving instrumental force, but also in imagery and lyrical themes. Hank III, grandson of Williams Sr., is the most recognized figure in the scene for obvious reasons, but he does not standalone. It’s a movement that has been going on for over a decade with artists like David Allan Coe, Wayne Hancock, and Those Poor Bastards surviving through a loyal underground following.
Jayke Orvis, the founding member of the blue-grass gunslingers the .357 string band, on his album is called Its All Been Said, moves away from his overdrive plucking, and breaks his heart all through the night. He describes an individuals attempt to escape from the paranoid and self-destructive power of falling, “I guess I love you/ I love you more than I could ever really love myself / Cus' when things go wrong / I just stare too long at empty bottles on a broken shelf.” “Dreadful Sinner” sings the refrain “Mercy wrap your arms around me / Jesus why did you not buy me? / What does it take to become a righteous man? /…. Wickedness is painless / But its blaze is strong and true.” The mood of the It's All is uncompromisingly dark, but it’s also a living, breathing, human descent.
Orvis isn't afraid to reach for even greater depths in a music scene that will never make it onto broad radio circulation. “Gone Forever More” is confession of murderer who is driven to suicide in order to find peace after taking the life of his loved one. The chorus backing vocals on “Streets,” are so sweet that you forget he’s singing about the desire to disappear from a tortured life. Those who followed his previous band and were anticipating some lightning mandolin work, will be mildly disappointed. There are moments on the instrumental “Yankee Taste” and a great ode to the legendary Doc Watson on “Shady Grove/Gypsy Moon,” when he comes roaring down the highway at you.
This album is tough, but comfortably worn in, and by redefining the appreciation for those forgotten legends, it shows how their work is both timeless and essential. Jayke Orvis walks a long and lonely road on Its All Been Said, and spits in the face of those who want to sing about salvation.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Writing On The Wall
I have to say this. JIM was a great album, no questions asked. But the newest offering Compass, is at least as good. The words I’m fighting off are “progressive,” or “transitioning,” or “maturing,” because I'm not going to play that game.
What makes Jamie Lidell’s newest album stand alone with confidence is its ability to blur all the lines previously highlighted. The diversity of JIM and Multiply shined bright, both of them creative, but also articulate and honest. He was framing previous decades of influences in all the right places, and the music community started to pay attention the new guy in the neighborhood. Compass lets us know, finally and unashamedly, this is where he belongs.
There are flashpoints that occur during a career where artistic labels become easily accessible. The branding that goes along with presenting ones work to the public, is at the same time, both superficial and necessary. It can be really exciting when “the new thing” arrives, but it’s the same force that declares a need for “a revival” of greatness gone by. The megaphone name-calling does matter, but limited titles in the end are just words, and don’t serve any artist with inspiration. The most successful ones are able to find an identity that they believe in concretely, and brilliantly illuminate the contradictions embedded from the very beginning.
Prince is a real target for comparison, and he comes closest to this on Compass, but he also glances with Eddie Kendricks, Bill Withers, and The Jackson 5. Lidell is just as much himself as he has ever been, and understands that being capable of much more, won’t change what’s already his.
What makes Jamie Lidell’s newest album stand alone with confidence is its ability to blur all the lines previously highlighted. The diversity of JIM and Multiply shined bright, both of them creative, but also articulate and honest. He was framing previous decades of influences in all the right places, and the music community started to pay attention the new guy in the neighborhood. Compass lets us know, finally and unashamedly, this is where he belongs.
There are flashpoints that occur during a career where artistic labels become easily accessible. The branding that goes along with presenting ones work to the public, is at the same time, both superficial and necessary. It can be really exciting when “the new thing” arrives, but it’s the same force that declares a need for “a revival” of greatness gone by. The megaphone name-calling does matter, but limited titles in the end are just words, and don’t serve any artist with inspiration. The most successful ones are able to find an identity that they believe in concretely, and brilliantly illuminate the contradictions embedded from the very beginning.
Prince is a real target for comparison, and he comes closest to this on Compass, but he also glances with Eddie Kendricks, Bill Withers, and The Jackson 5. Lidell is just as much himself as he has ever been, and understands that being capable of much more, won’t change what’s already his.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Rebel In Prayer
I should have written something about 108. I blame it on Defiance, OH. I initially thought about writing an entry for both, because both 18.61 and Midwestern Minutes are great albums, but decided that the former was tugging on my curiosity.
In a genre of music that often has defined itself through secular philosophies, I found this punk crew provocative because of their devotion to a Hindu idol. 108 are named after the number of sacred Hindu and Buddhist prayer beads and hold claim to a hardcore sub-genre known as Krishna-core. This would seem in complete contradiction with the previous ideologies in punk, which often are associated with Marx or Nietzsche as influences. In this context, I think most punk artists and others with similar politics, choose figures from the European Enlightenment instead of religion in order to oppose over a millennia of Christianity’s solidarity with the state and its justification for imperialism and exploitation.
Contemporary presentations of counter-culture have roots in the social upheaval of the sixties and seventies. While many take this as common knowledge, I only bring it up because the same political implications coincided with a religious curiosity, reaching outside of the Judeo-Christian history of thought. Hindu belief and influence extends much deeper into history than the middle of twentieth century, but its reverence towards the cow plays towards punk’s intersectional relationship of anti-capitalism and a vegetarian/vegan lifestyle. All these forces are at work and explain how a band like 108 would gravitate towards a religion for artistic inspiration.
The album title comes from a chapter and verse in the Bhagavad Gita which reads, "The controller of all lies at the heart of the machine, and connects its wires to the living being who is under its spell." It's the kind of quote to straight-edge bands love to scream for, but too many of them take a self-righteous stance that believes what they're doing is "something true." 108 has broken-up recently due to religious differences, but it should be stated that they aren't reaching into hallow rhetoric. It's about the music, which is why they are still touring and in the end, 18.61 is great hardcore. It’s full of powerful vocals, solid drumming, and easily my once of my favorite punk albums this year.
And I love Midwestern Minutes too. Now it's even.
In a genre of music that often has defined itself through secular philosophies, I found this punk crew provocative because of their devotion to a Hindu idol. 108 are named after the number of sacred Hindu and Buddhist prayer beads and hold claim to a hardcore sub-genre known as Krishna-core. This would seem in complete contradiction with the previous ideologies in punk, which often are associated with Marx or Nietzsche as influences. In this context, I think most punk artists and others with similar politics, choose figures from the European Enlightenment instead of religion in order to oppose over a millennia of Christianity’s solidarity with the state and its justification for imperialism and exploitation.
Contemporary presentations of counter-culture have roots in the social upheaval of the sixties and seventies. While many take this as common knowledge, I only bring it up because the same political implications coincided with a religious curiosity, reaching outside of the Judeo-Christian history of thought. Hindu belief and influence extends much deeper into history than the middle of twentieth century, but its reverence towards the cow plays towards punk’s intersectional relationship of anti-capitalism and a vegetarian/vegan lifestyle. All these forces are at work and explain how a band like 108 would gravitate towards a religion for artistic inspiration.
The album title comes from a chapter and verse in the Bhagavad Gita which reads, "The controller of all lies at the heart of the machine, and connects its wires to the living being who is under its spell." It's the kind of quote to straight-edge bands love to scream for, but too many of them take a self-righteous stance that believes what they're doing is "something true." 108 has broken-up recently due to religious differences, but it should be stated that they aren't reaching into hallow rhetoric. It's about the music, which is why they are still touring and in the end, 18.61 is great hardcore. It’s full of powerful vocals, solid drumming, and easily my once of my favorite punk albums this year.
And I love Midwestern Minutes too. Now it's even.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Take Your Seats
Good morning class. We have reached the midway point of the school year. Today I wanted to go over some of our work with a short review. Stand when I call your name.
The Roots remain stylistically and culturally relevant on their newest release How I Got Over. A really awkward, or maybe perfect example here is the Johanna Newsom sample/hook on “Right On.”
Talib Kweli and Hi-Tek are talented as individuals, but when their talents unite they become something quintessential. Call them what you want...textbook, undeniable, classic, all of them were earned over the years of great work.
Planet Asia has been disappointing as of late. He is great on the battlefield, but it’s a one-dimensional approach that tires quickly. A little change of scenery would make a big difference and solidify him as a more complete emcee.
Madlib is the hardest workingman in hip-hop. Check that.
Madlib is the hardest workingman in showbiz. Period.
Jay Electronica has made a reputation of his own and has defined it through unconventional means. With names like Nas, Talib, Mos, and Just Blaze as comrades in arms, it would seem that he would have an established career to warrant that kind of blue-chip love, and there is a small back story concerning a woman known as Eryka Badu. Most of his career has been made off of online mix-tapes or collaborations, and has yet to release a LP, so there is plenty of confusion and conversation about why such a promising new voice hasn’t rushed open that door ten-toes strong.
With the internet climate providing a state of insatiability, releasing individual songs or streaming them is a good way to keep people hungry and at the same time giving them something to talk about. Homemade distribution for decades has been the grassroots voice of hip-hop and I think this plays a role in Jay Electronica’s intrigue.
Record deals have historically put more power in the hands of the labels than the artists. Hip-hop is the example of how a genre can be totally dismissed by the record industry for years, only to be strong-armed later when the possibility of large profit enters the window. De La Soul, please stand up. While downloading has taken a large chunk of income away from the industry as a whole, it also has driven artists to search for alternate means of profitable recognition.
There won't be a massive transition overnight but I believe that more artists, both old and new, will start to wean themselves towards more progressive ideas when it comes to reaching out for public awareness consumption in the coming years. Immortal Technique, please stand up. According to online sources, Jay Electronica has a LP dropping sometime this year entitled Abracadabra: Let There Be Light. Don’t believe the hype. Dr. Dre, please stand up.
The year is not over. Black Milk, you could be emerging as a new leader and claim the best producer/emcee title-belt that another Detroit native used to own. Study hard.
The Roots remain stylistically and culturally relevant on their newest release How I Got Over. A really awkward, or maybe perfect example here is the Johanna Newsom sample/hook on “Right On.”
Talib Kweli and Hi-Tek are talented as individuals, but when their talents unite they become something quintessential. Call them what you want...textbook, undeniable, classic, all of them were earned over the years of great work.
Planet Asia has been disappointing as of late. He is great on the battlefield, but it’s a one-dimensional approach that tires quickly. A little change of scenery would make a big difference and solidify him as a more complete emcee.
Madlib is the hardest workingman in hip-hop. Check that.
Madlib is the hardest workingman in showbiz. Period.
Jay Electronica has made a reputation of his own and has defined it through unconventional means. With names like Nas, Talib, Mos, and Just Blaze as comrades in arms, it would seem that he would have an established career to warrant that kind of blue-chip love, and there is a small back story concerning a woman known as Eryka Badu. Most of his career has been made off of online mix-tapes or collaborations, and has yet to release a LP, so there is plenty of confusion and conversation about why such a promising new voice hasn’t rushed open that door ten-toes strong.
With the internet climate providing a state of insatiability, releasing individual songs or streaming them is a good way to keep people hungry and at the same time giving them something to talk about. Homemade distribution for decades has been the grassroots voice of hip-hop and I think this plays a role in Jay Electronica’s intrigue.
Record deals have historically put more power in the hands of the labels than the artists. Hip-hop is the example of how a genre can be totally dismissed by the record industry for years, only to be strong-armed later when the possibility of large profit enters the window. De La Soul, please stand up. While downloading has taken a large chunk of income away from the industry as a whole, it also has driven artists to search for alternate means of profitable recognition.
There won't be a massive transition overnight but I believe that more artists, both old and new, will start to wean themselves towards more progressive ideas when it comes to reaching out for public awareness consumption in the coming years. Immortal Technique, please stand up. According to online sources, Jay Electronica has a LP dropping sometime this year entitled Abracadabra: Let There Be Light. Don’t believe the hype. Dr. Dre, please stand up.
The year is not over. Black Milk, you could be emerging as a new leader and claim the best producer/emcee title-belt that another Detroit native used to own. Study hard.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Earth Tracing the Sun
The horizon never sleeps. No one knows where it ends or where it begins , but we are all cast under it’s spell. At night the day takes a brief and quiet exit while the sky graces a familiar and long journey. If you are interested Jacob Newman has the whole thing on record.
Reflections and Diffusions is so vast and daunting that taking on all seventy-one minutes is a challenge. Part of the experience is meditating on the tense contradictions in dynamics that justify the title "ambient" or “experimental.” After the first track there is an impulse for drama or some breaking points that would provide a familiar kind of emotional release. This initial reaction drives home the purpose of artists who delve into creating works like this; they confront the assumptions and normative standards that were never called into question. The whole purpose is to take convenient terms like “subtle” and “overwhelming” and turn them into something indivisible but perfectly understood.
By no means is the album disturbing, it is more likely to induce indifference than fear. Dismissing Reflections all together would be a mistake because this album is rich with superlatives. It is however a complicated place to linger, and an isolating musical experience. I can’t think of an artist in recent years that channeled this the kind of energy or intense environment. Jacob Newman has taken on a massive effort in order to craft this world and I thank him for his passion and ambitions.
Reflections and Diffusions is so vast and daunting that taking on all seventy-one minutes is a challenge. Part of the experience is meditating on the tense contradictions in dynamics that justify the title "ambient" or “experimental.” After the first track there is an impulse for drama or some breaking points that would provide a familiar kind of emotional release. This initial reaction drives home the purpose of artists who delve into creating works like this; they confront the assumptions and normative standards that were never called into question. The whole purpose is to take convenient terms like “subtle” and “overwhelming” and turn them into something indivisible but perfectly understood.
By no means is the album disturbing, it is more likely to induce indifference than fear. Dismissing Reflections all together would be a mistake because this album is rich with superlatives. It is however a complicated place to linger, and an isolating musical experience. I can’t think of an artist in recent years that channeled this the kind of energy or intense environment. Jacob Newman has taken on a massive effort in order to craft this world and I thank him for his passion and ambitions.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Remember Your Friends
I don’t know how long it will take, but somewhere down the road there will be a writer who chooses to undertake all that gave birth to the music climate as we understand it in 2010. Who interrogates the terminology of competing segregation and understands why they have always existed. Who can concisely define all of this on both a micro and macro scale, and then goes on to provocatively narrate why we care so much in the first place.
I bring this point up because the Mynabirds have got me thinking about the importance of nostalgia. Bands like Yo La Tengo and My Bloody Valentine just to name a few, were part of a culture that opened the floodgates on a story that still presides with us today. I have a growing hope that instead of namedropping bands, critics years down the line will look at the labels who believed in them.
Saddle Creek is one of the labels that will have to be mentioned. A part of the watershed to be sure, but love it or hate it they served as a gatekeeper to many, and anyone who denies it has got some skeletons to deal with. Why is this relevant you ask? The most obvious reason is this entry is about the Mynabirds, who are signed to Saddle Creek. The better point is that when I listen to What We Lose In the Fire We Gain In the Flood I feel transported to when there was a whole lot of people who were hearing Rough Trade and Sub Pop for the first time and growing into something new. Another young generation, with revolutionary access, as naive as they were passionate and looking to play a part, looking for acceptance.
The Mynabirds do Nebraska right. They play a little slide guitar twang on songs like “Good Heart,” and kill you with a smile on “Give It Time” and “LA Rain.” On “Let the Record Go” and the title track they flirt with southern rock and drive home a heavy handed piano. Laura Burhenn is front and center in this band and delivers a dramatic and soulful presence. She takes the time to look you in the eye, boldly speak her heart, and isn't afraid to make a stand. What We Lose In The Fire has got a will of it's own and thanks you kindly for tagging along.
If there is something that The Mynabirds got me to do, it was dust off the shelves and make room for a whole lot more. I don’t know if a critic should ever accept the idea that they have transcended naiveté. Insight often requires alienation and I believe the most personal, challenging, and important memories have this at its heart.
I bring this point up because the Mynabirds have got me thinking about the importance of nostalgia. Bands like Yo La Tengo and My Bloody Valentine just to name a few, were part of a culture that opened the floodgates on a story that still presides with us today. I have a growing hope that instead of namedropping bands, critics years down the line will look at the labels who believed in them.
Saddle Creek is one of the labels that will have to be mentioned. A part of the watershed to be sure, but love it or hate it they served as a gatekeeper to many, and anyone who denies it has got some skeletons to deal with. Why is this relevant you ask? The most obvious reason is this entry is about the Mynabirds, who are signed to Saddle Creek. The better point is that when I listen to What We Lose In the Fire We Gain In the Flood I feel transported to when there was a whole lot of people who were hearing Rough Trade and Sub Pop for the first time and growing into something new. Another young generation, with revolutionary access, as naive as they were passionate and looking to play a part, looking for acceptance.
The Mynabirds do Nebraska right. They play a little slide guitar twang on songs like “Good Heart,” and kill you with a smile on “Give It Time” and “LA Rain.” On “Let the Record Go” and the title track they flirt with southern rock and drive home a heavy handed piano. Laura Burhenn is front and center in this band and delivers a dramatic and soulful presence. She takes the time to look you in the eye, boldly speak her heart, and isn't afraid to make a stand. What We Lose In The Fire has got a will of it's own and thanks you kindly for tagging along.
If there is something that The Mynabirds got me to do, it was dust off the shelves and make room for a whole lot more. I don’t know if a critic should ever accept the idea that they have transcended naiveté. Insight often requires alienation and I believe the most personal, challenging, and important memories have this at its heart.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Swarm and Multiply
Fear the robot revolution. It will come overnight while we sleep. Crawling from the skyscrapers and streetlights electric lines will strangle and envelope the world, rendering mankind to witness the evils of its own destructive desire for power.
Sci-fi seems to often generate images of the dateless teenager or socially immobile, and it’s a tragedy because it becomes more relevant with every passing second. Models and standards of technology become obsolete before the collective culture is aware, or much less understands the nature of its relevancy. To an even greater extent, the division of understanding between older and younger generations definition of this revelancy is a conversation left unresolved and spiraling into a nameless distance.
Death metal is inherently dystopian, but Laethora has a style that understands what that looks in real time. While playing extreme metal and being from Sweden is a misnomer, The Light In Which We All Burn deserves some recognition. I loved their release March Of The Parasite and was hoping that a sophomore effort would cement the band as something to watch and praise in the metal scene in years to come. Their angle mixes with old-school doom riffs, but what sets them apart are the the lead melodies. It doesn't take on blistering speed, or wretched distortion, but calculated sterility. There is something cold, or detached, or ominous that's scary and interesting when this colossus throws down.
Laethora is that band, but The Light isn’t the album I was looking for after hearing Parasite. If you listen to the intro on "The Scum of Us All" from their first release, there's a use of industrial vocals that I wanted to make a more defining role this time around. It fits perfectly into their modern apocalyptic themes going on here and would have really carved them with greater distinction. At points on songs like “A.S.K.E,” “Saevio,” and “Cast to Ruin” the band goes pretty much silent and misses the opportunity to capitalize on throwing in some Godflesh or NIN.
I am still not going to say that disappoint should be the tag here. I waited on this album for a long time and have been listening to it consistently since its release and I will be just a excited for their next release. Laethora is one of the most visionary death metal acts around right now and anyone who is slightly interested should check out The Light to find out why.
Sci-fi seems to often generate images of the dateless teenager or socially immobile, and it’s a tragedy because it becomes more relevant with every passing second. Models and standards of technology become obsolete before the collective culture is aware, or much less understands the nature of its relevancy. To an even greater extent, the division of understanding between older and younger generations definition of this revelancy is a conversation left unresolved and spiraling into a nameless distance.
Death metal is inherently dystopian, but Laethora has a style that understands what that looks in real time. While playing extreme metal and being from Sweden is a misnomer, The Light In Which We All Burn deserves some recognition. I loved their release March Of The Parasite and was hoping that a sophomore effort would cement the band as something to watch and praise in the metal scene in years to come. Their angle mixes with old-school doom riffs, but what sets them apart are the the lead melodies. It doesn't take on blistering speed, or wretched distortion, but calculated sterility. There is something cold, or detached, or ominous that's scary and interesting when this colossus throws down.
Laethora is that band, but The Light isn’t the album I was looking for after hearing Parasite. If you listen to the intro on "The Scum of Us All" from their first release, there's a use of industrial vocals that I wanted to make a more defining role this time around. It fits perfectly into their modern apocalyptic themes going on here and would have really carved them with greater distinction. At points on songs like “A.S.K.E,” “Saevio,” and “Cast to Ruin” the band goes pretty much silent and misses the opportunity to capitalize on throwing in some Godflesh or NIN.
I am still not going to say that disappoint should be the tag here. I waited on this album for a long time and have been listening to it consistently since its release and I will be just a excited for their next release. Laethora is one of the most visionary death metal acts around right now and anyone who is slightly interested should check out The Light to find out why.
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