An open letter to bands

No matter what subgenre of rock you find yourself playing – indie, emo, pop-punk, post-hardcore, electro, anything – as long as you’re performing original songs, the discussion will come up between you and your bandmates about covers. Maybe your live show isn’t really turning heads like you want it to, or maybe you just want something different to spice up the setlist. It’s a perfectly reasonable idea: a well-chosen and well-executed cover song has many advantages. You can introduce your core audience to an artist or a song with which they may or may not be familiar, you can attract a different audience to your material by playing something they may want to hear, you can learn the ins and outs of another’s material as a way of critically scrutinizing your own…on top of all this, you can have fun and pay homage to an artist or song you admire.

Too often, however, the cover song is abused by bands. They consciously decide not to take the high road, instead rearranging a lowest-common-denominator bit of music for a cheap thrill. We’ve all heard it and we’re all tired of it…

PLEASE STOP COVERING TOP 40 GARBAGE.

Many fail to understand that 80-90% of current Top 40 singles are more product than art, if they can be considered art at all. Sure, there’s plenty of genuine talent involved – the songwriters, producers and, yes, the performers themselves – but the well-oiled “hit machine” runs on money, and the marketing department is hitting the switches. Music is more than an industry, and every time your shitty band covers Ke$ha or the Black Eyed Peas, you’re doing it a disservice. I don’t care how “ironic” or “hilarious” your rendition of the latest Lil Wayne track is. I don’t care if Justin Bieber is one of your “guilty pleasures.” I don’t care if your Jason DeRulo cover ends up on the next Punk Goes… disgrace. The simple truth is that every time you and your bros cover a Top 40 single, you’re perpetuating the industrialization, commercialization and homogenization of music – and setting the rest of us back.

Yours,
Mike Moschetto
Concerned musician and music lover

As abhorrent as this practice is, I must make myself clear – I’m talking specifically about bands who are trying to achieve success playing original songs, even if they’re trying to write the next big, formulaic, accessible Top 40 hit – not so “original” after all, are they? Full-time cover bands don’t bother me as much, because they exist for the sole purpose of playing others’ songs, whether they’re emulating that style or doing their own thing. Their audiences are expecting to hear this kind of music, so they’re not necessarily propagating Top 40 music or expanding its range of influence. It should be noted that I’m also covering my own ass, because I’ve been known to play drums in a cover band.

The National – High Violet (2010 Beggars’ Banquet)

I fell in love with the National almost immediately upon hearing “Fake Empire,” the opener from their 2008 masterpiece, Boxer. That song holds a special significance to me, and also acted conveniently as a gateway to their material: it draws you in and introduces you their idiosyncrasies, from Matt Berninger’s pained crooning and darkly-comical lyrics to the orchestral flourishes that spring up here and there. The National have an instantly recognizable sound of their own, but how much room is there for growth?

That is the question plaguing me as I listen through High Violet, the glum-pop outfit’s latest offering. I hate to use the “p-word,” but I fear they may have peaked. It’s not even that the songs on High Violet are formulaic – the National were never much for songwriting conventions – but they’re less engaging, less endearing and just less interesting. There’s no new ground broken here. Not to say it’s yielded a bad result, per se, but it’s a little safe, and that’s not why I listen to the National.

There are a few shining moments, however, and unlike most releases, they occur in the second half of the album. My advice would be to skip the first four tracks and come back to them when you’re not listening really intently. Who knows? Maybe then you’ll be surprised, or at least lulled into complacency. The first signs of life show themselves in “Afraid of Everyone,” which begins to grasp the introverted, somber atmosphere the National create at their best. “Bloodbuzz Ohio” and “Lemonworld” are a 1-2 punch that are, for me, the highlights of the album. They become significantly more adventurous after this, with the dreamscapes of “Runaway” and “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks” truly paying off.

Disappointment is my gut reaction to High Violet, though I know deep down it’s better than 70% of the crap that will come out this year. I’d just recommend Boxer or even Alligator to someone who’d never heard the National before.

Overall: 6.5/10

Vampire Weekend – Contra (2010 XL)

Hey there. How ya doin’? Been a while, hasn’t it? Allow me to explain: in January, I started hosting and programming a classic rock/oldies radio show on WECB called Beatles Schmeatles!, so my listening habits have shifted more from the new to the old. That said, I do have a few reviews up my sleeve.

Contra is an interesting case. Just days into 2009, Animal Collective released Merriweather Post Pavilion to cries of “Album of the Year” and similar acclaim. Though Vampire Weekend’s sophomore release wasn’t met with the same art-student/hipster hype, it certainly could end up topping lists by December.

The influences on Contra are a lot more diverse and zany than their debut album, which has pretty safely secured “instant classic” status. I resisted the hype for at least 85 blog years, if not a full blog century, but  eventually caved in and loved it, allowing me to fully appreciate Contra. Instead of merely continuing on the path of indie-cum-Afropop, the band has incorporated a lot of new elements. The electronic and sample-delic delights of “White Sky” and “Giving Up the Gun” recall Animal Collective’s recent direction; the Caribbean grooves of “Diplomat’s Son” and “Run” see the band fully embrace their potential for danciness. “California English,” the best track, is a frenetic affair, one of the most genuinely creative and effective uses of Auto-Tune in recent memory. Album closer “I Think Ur A Contra” showcases all that’s great about the band in an atmospheric, relatively serene jaunt, the subtlety of which requires it be played through nice speakers or headphones.

Producer and mastermind Rostam Batmanglij shines on Contra, though the other three members of Vampire Weekend certainly have their moments as well. Ezra Koenig channels Sting and Paul Simon as per usual, on top of being a uniquely charismatic frontman. The rhythm section of Chris Baio and Chris Tomson are at their best on lead single “Cousins,” where they seem to handle the song’s frantic pace with ease and lay down a solid foundation over which Ezra and Rostam are free to do their thing. Overall, the band as a whole are at their best in terms of songwriting and arrangements. Their true strength lies in their ability to produce catchy melodies and complex harmonic resolutions out of simple chord sequences – I, IV and V never sounded so interesting.

I have no shame in loving this album. Call me a sheep or a hipster or whatever you will (shipster?), but I hold that this album features a balanced blend of quality pop music and worldly artistic merit. If it weren’t for the irritating dissonance at the end of “Run,” this would have earned a perfect 10 from me, but it’s still one of the best albums I’ve ever heard. Buy it.

Overall: 9.5/10

My problem with Radiohead

[DISCLAIMER: People who know me in person know: I don't like Radiohead. In fact, I would go so far as to say I strongly dislike them, and sometimes hate them. Golly! So if you're an ardent Radiohead supporter or just out to troll me, I'd just stop reading now. It gets ugly from here and I don't want to have to wipe your tears off of my blog.]

In today’s musical climate, not liking Radiohead is on par with going to film school and not having seen The Godfather, or not really liking Citizen Kane (of which I’m also guilty. Oops!). Usually, despite my boiled-down explanation of “I just don’t care for ‘em,” people tend to rationalize for me: “you just don’t like them because everyone else likes them,” “you haven’t heard the right stuff,” and “you just don’t get them” are common – the latter, especially. I appreciate their efforts to get inside my head, but it’s MY sin – a sin that’s damn-near impossible to justify, but here goes nothing!

First and foremost, it’s their music. Most of the time, it just does nothing for me. I used to say “they suck,” or if I was in a particularly bad mood, “they fucking suck,” but I’ve since changed my wording. I can give credit where credit is due: they’re talented and they’re obviously doing something right, and not even in the way that, say, Taylor Swift is doing something right. But their collective efforts rarely (if ever) pique my interest. You’d think after 20+ years of being a band, they’d have more than a handful of songs that reel me in. And I’ve given them a chance, too: I’ve definitely listened to most of their albums at least once: OK Computer, Kid A, Hail to the Thief, In Rainbows, and most of The Bends. It’s not all bad; it’s just by no means all good.
Think about it this way: Radiohead are praised for the synthesis of 1) their technical proficiency at their respective instruments, 2) their diverse influences in their compositions and 3) their haunting, ethereal production and arrangements. Fine. I can see that. But if I want virtuosic musicianship, I’ll go with technical metal like the Dillinger Escape Plan or something proggy like the Mars Volta. If I want forward-thinking, outside-the-box songwriting, the most obvious choice to me is Anathallo. If I want dreamy soundscapes and lush accompaniment, I’d rather be listening to Sigur Rós or Godspeed You! Black Emperor. And if I want the perfect synthesis of all three, easy: Pink Floyd. Radiohead has no room in my listening habits. They’re simply less qualified. Natural selection! Even Darwin has my back on this.

The other side of this is their background, the motivation behind what they do. Personally, I don’t think alt-rock – even artsy alt-rock – has any business being pretentious. It’s counterintuitive to the aims of starting a rock band (though, fortunately for Radiohead, it backfired and they’re one of the biggest acts in the world). For example, using an ondes Martenot just for the sake of using an ondes Martenot is pretty lame. Who the fuck knows or cares what an ondes Martenot is, anyway? Wouldn’t your music have been equally poignant with a soft-synth in its place?
And if your new album is simultaneously trying to channel the film scores of Ennio Morricone and the Beach Boys, that’s all well and good – I just wish you wouldn’t tell me about it, because it makes you sound like a fucking snob! Maybe not even that – it just sounds like you’re going through great pains to make strikingly “original” music, all the while sucking the fun out of the entire creative process. It shows, too. No wonder Thom Yorke sounds so miserable – he comes off like one of those “artists” who are never quite satisfied with their work, which usually means they’ve lost sight of the reason they make art in the first place. And yeah, “art is hard” and not necessarily about fun or positivity, but I find myself unable to relate.

And the third thing that really bothers me about Radiohead is the kind of fans they attract. I know I have to be extra careful with this, because that description encompasses, like, everyone in the galaxy except me (it’s pretty safe to assume that sentient beings from other planets we have yet to discover are into Radiohead). The band has broken out of what would otherwise be an “art music” niche and found widespread appeal with almost everyone. The artistic, introspective types listen to Radiohead because they’re a band after their own heart. The too-cool-for-school hipster types listen to Radiohead too, either because Pitchfork eats it up (ergo it’s trendy) or because they’ve like totally influenced this obscure indie band they like (but only their first album, obviously). The hardcore kids and the punks and the metal fans listen to Radiohead to show that they like more than just aggressive nonsense. Hip-hop heads listen to Radiohead because they include just enough electronic elements to be sample-worthy in an ironic, “hip” way (see: Girl Talk, Minty Fresh Beats). Even the empty-headed bros listen to Radiohead too, to come off as “deeper” and more sophisticated than their sports jerseys, SUVs and Dave Matthews CDs might suggest. I don’t doubt that all of these people genuinely like Radiohead, and that’s completely fine; in my experience, though, a lot of people tend to have agendas in liking Radiohead, and I’m less okay with that.

Harsh, I know. But look on the bright side: if I really hated and had no respect for Radiohead whatsoever, I wouldn’t even give them the time of day and you wouldn’t be fuming at this blog entry right now. People forget that: the worst thing you can do against an artist is to not talk about them. And like I said, I can give credit where credit is due. “Fake Plastic Trees” is a beautiful song. “15 Step” is great, especially since I’m a sucker for odd meters. “The National Anthem” is groovy and has fuzz bass (the way to my heart is through a Big Muff Pi). “Paranoid Android” is pretty interesting and has nasty guitar work. And “There There” is probably my favorite song of theirs. But those are about the only five songs I can tolerate regularly, and I think I burned out “Fake Plastic Trees” a few weeks after I heard it when I was in high school.

You mad?

The Avett Brothers – I and Love and You (2009 American)

The Avett Brothers have come a long way from their North Carolina roots. So far, their latest effort, I and Love and You, has landed them on network television twice and sent them on an extensive US tour, with dates booked as far out as spring 2010. With a little help from Rick Rubin and his American Recordings imprint, The Avetts are making quite a dent.

On the surface, the Avett Brothers seem to be riding the wave of hipster-friendly folk songwriting that’s been steadily growing in popularity. In reality, not only is their brand of roots rock more authentic, but they’re much harder to pinpoint in the genre spectrum, a trait on which they pride themselves. “Kick Drum Heart” channels the Beatles circa the White Album, while “Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise” rings of Wilco’s alt-country side. To call them eclectic would be an understatement…yet if you like one song, you’re sure to enjoy the full album.

Vocalists Seth and Scott Avett, who handle the lion’s share of instrumental duties, also have distinct personalities as frontmen. Scott is the more prominent lead singer and has a “rock ‘n’ roll” edge. His best track, “The Space Between,” abruptly morphs into a pleasantly raucous affair on which he not only shines but drives the song forward. Meanwhile, Seth’s voice is sweeter and a bit more subdued, but compensates with palpable emotion – his impassioned harmonies complement Scott at every occasion. In fact, Seth is likely responsible for most of the pathos that permeates the album, one of the threads running through all the songs that keeps I and Love and You cohesive.

That other thread is the sound. Rick Rubin, hailed by MTV as the “most important producer of the last 20 years,” opted for his signature production methodology: less is more. Particularly appropriate for the Avetts’ down-home brand of Americana, Rubin’s influence keeps the listener feeling like they’re hearing the music rather than the recordings. It may not seem like it, but that’s a big difference.

At 13 tracks, the earnest folk rock of I and Love and You gets a little tired, but there a few upbeat tracks sprinkled in that are sure to pique your interest. Though the Avett Brothers have been active for almost a decade already, don’t expect them to go away anytime soon.

Camera Obscura – My Maudlin Career (2009 4AD)

The Scots are doing something right over there. Dolly the sheep, Craig Ferguson and now Camera Obscura? That’s a solid track record. There must be something in the water (and I’m not talking about Nessie).

My Maudlin Career expertly combines indie pop songcraft with the “vintage” aesthetic that’s so prevalent lately – essentially, this is what M. Ward was probably shooting for with the She & Him album. Tracyanne Campbell’s delicate vocals are tastefully coated in reverb, like she and her band are headlining the bill at some old-timey music hall. And with caffeinated string arrangements, courtesy of Bjorn (of Peter Bjorn & John), the band’s “classic” sound makes the leap to “classy.”

For a band that has more or less made a living off of singing about sadness (hence this album’s tongue-in-cheek, self-referential title), Camera Obscura don’t exactly sound so down in the dumps. Think of it this way: Bright Eyes generally sound sad. Wilco sometimes sound sad. Radiohead quite often sounds absolutely miserable. Camera Obscura, however, pull off a strange hybrid: morose lyrical themes juxtaposed against consonant melodies, laid over textures of syrupy strings and pretty guitars. Melancholy has never sounded so good.

In fact, there comes a point when the band’s saccharine sweetness becomes almost sickening. The hook to “Swans” could be the theme to a trendy, Scottish version of “Sesame Street” – not to mention that the timbral combination of organ, electric guitar and glockenspiel is so sugary, you might walk away with some cavities. “Honey In The Sun,” though more mature, is an unfailingly bouncy and upbeat affair that plays through like the Turtles after a few Red Bulls.

Ultimately though, the band’s amalgam of emotions is infectious, and by opening the album with lead single “French Navy,” they’re sure to have you tapping your toe for the rest of the day. Furthermore, the record is sure to please a wide range of listeners – from fans of British Invasion-era pop (like the Zombies or The Hollies) to the younger, hipper crowd (who live for Fleet Foxes or Grizzly Bear) and even the casual radio listeners (who sing along to Adele or Amy Winehouse).

Overall: 8.5/10

Wilco – Wilco (The Album) (2009 Nonesuch)

How do you follow up your best-selling, most critically-lauded work? Wilco (The Album) finds the band trying to answer that very question, three albums out from their magnum opus, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

Despite a few heavy-hitters, Wilco (The Album) seems to trudge through its 40 minutes, as though the band is dragging their 14-year history along with them. Since their creative tipping point of Foxtrot, frontman and principal songwriter Jeff Tweedy has been pushing for a more “back-to-basics” songwriting style, though that experimental side – a sort of sonic Mr. Hyde – will always find a way to peek out from behind their roots-rock banner.

These moments certainly aren’t unwelcome. The hypnotic groove and piercing octaves of “Bull Black Nova” kick off one of the album’s most memorable stretches. “You and I,” Tweedy’s duet with Leslie Feist, ends with a tasteful reversed guitar solo (though it doesn’t do nearly enough to showcase Feist, which is criminal). Lead single “You Never Know” kicks the door in, doing double-duty as a punchy rock song with a jaunty, “honky-tonk” aesthetic. And album opener “Wilco (The Song)” is rife with the quirky self-awareness that keeps the band from taking itself too seriously. Take it from the refrain: “Wilco…Wilco…Wilco will love you baby.”

Tweedy can strike gold in some of his more subdued efforts as well, but it’s about 50/50 – “Deeper Down” and “Country Disappeared” are engaging and beautiful, while “Solitaire” and “One Wing” sort of slip out from under you. The closing track, “Everlasting Everything,” is an especially big letdown.

Overall, Wilco’s sorta-self-titled newest album never quite takes off. Its wheels do leave the ground for a while around the middle of the album, an apex that is certainly worthy of mention, if not one that justifies any lackluster content. However, the push toward traditional musicality sort of works against the band, leaving them sounding confused as to which voice to employ – are they pop-rock? Are they alt-country? Are they freak folk? While these facets have meshed well in the past, they don’t form the coherent Wilco album everyone knows they could make.

If nothing else, Nels Cline really rips on the guitar.

Overall: 7/10

Phoenix – Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix (2009 V2)

[Note: This review was written for WERS.org and edited by Andrew Bruss. Here's the unedited copy.]

Phoenix have been active in France since the mid-’90s – vocalist Thomas Mars lent his pipes to Air’s classic, “Playground Love” – and they’re just starting to make waves in the US in 2009. So forgive me if I come off like a rookie while I gush about their fourth full-length, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix.

It didn’t hit me right away, either. I heard “Lisztomania” well after it had made its way around the blog circuit and even after the band performed it on Saturday Night Live, and at first I didn’t think much of it. The trick: it took me a day or two of cavorting around and listening to uninspired Top 40 hits to truly appreciate Phoenix’s expertly-crafted pop-rock, laced with retro vibes and tightly wrapped in modern production. As summer rolls in, expect to hear this track bumping from many an open car window.

And don’t ask me how, but Phoenix manage to maintain that energy and momentum through the rest of the album and pack it with nearly-perfect pop anthems, carried by a harmonious blend of guitars and warm analog synthesizers, backed by big, punchy drums. Sitting at the forefront are Mars’ nuanced-yet-unassuming lead vocals, which range from nonchalant to downright expressive – he seems to channel Elton John’s falsetto on “Fences” as he sings, “roll the dice for me.” The group even take risks with “Love Like A Sunset,” eight minutes of nearly-instrumental electropop. Kudos, messieurs.

What makes Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix work is how easy they make it seem. Though each tune is meticulously crafted, it doesn’t sound like the band overthinks anything. It all comes across so natural – as if the songs were meant to be written and performed just like they sound; Phoenix just happened to be the ones to pull them down from the ether.

 

Overall: 9.5/10

Passion Pit – Manners (2009 Frenchkiss)

[Note: This review was written for WERS.org and edited by Andrew Bruss. Here's the unedited copy.]

Passion Pit frontman Michael Angelakos did what I never could: he put his Emerson College education on the backburner to commit to his band full-time, resulting in not only multiple offers from record labels, but almost-unanimous critical acclaim for his Chunk of Change EP, originally intended as a Valentine’s day serenade for his girlfriend. No word on whether or not she was instantly smitten upon hearing it.

The thoughtful gift launched Angelakos and his newly-assembled backing band at full throttle into the upper reaches of the blogosphere, where they drifted onto stages alongside acts like Yelle, Girl Talk and Death Cab For Cutie. The band’s debut full-length Manners touched down May 18th – now we’ll see if it survived reentry.

Soaring even higher is Angelakos’ excited castrato, cutting through even the shrillest of synths. It’s almost comical that a few songs employ female backup singers and boys’ choirs…but in all seriousness, it’s a perfect fit for the thick layers of electronics, undercut with a rock-solid live rhythm section.

And for such an electronic-heavy band, Passion Pit give off a different image…you don’t picture a bunch of guys standing around and twiddling knobs or dancing around their laptops. There are some truly inspired musicians behind this futuristic hit parade. Passion Pit take a shamelessly ’80s aesthetic and update it with hints of Italo disco and modern indie rock attitude. It’s no wonder then that Angelakos & co. have carved out a nice spot for themselves as one of the premier acts to follow in 2009.

Highlights: “Moth’s Wings,” “The Reeling” and the recycled Chunk of Change track, “Sleepyhead.”

 

Overall: 7.5/10

Ambivillains – Call Us A Cloud EP (2009)

Ambivillains, the latest hip-hop collaboration project from Fameless Fam, are made up of Virtue (of Partyboobytrap) and Papa Bakes (who guested on their self-titled album). Based on my positive review of said album and my engineering credentials, the guys at Fameless Fam enlisted me to mix the Ambivillains record. Therefore, I’m not going to review it; I’m just giving them a huge shout-out and strongly suggesting that you download the album (it’s free).