when did we start the end

As I rode the bus home yesterday, realizing that there was very little keeping me from leaving the front door anymore, it dawned on me that it has been a long time since I had bothered to think in first person. The last half of the year has been an exercise in removing me from myself, so that I couldn't even write without pretending to be someone else.


Anyone can clearly see that this 365 project has ended long before I started writing its ending, but it deserved a clear ending all the same. And though the project is not completed, I wouldn't call it an entire waste. It was a good occupation of time that might have otherwise been spent on dwelling on everything that went wrong this year (and a lot went wrong this year).


I could list the regular excuses, like the fact that I am perpetually doomed with all computer hardware, having to go through disaster after disaster with an old external hard drive. Or the mishap with my headphones, in which I just snapped them in half because I was a nervous wreck again. But the project wasn't ever really about having to trudge through album after album, or trying to complete it within the timeframe I gave myself. I started the project because I just wanted to slip into someone else's world for just a moment.


There is really only one way to describe the year that I had: light and dark. During the white light of winter and spring, I spent my days with the best and closest friend I had made in years, and in the yellow light of summer and fall I had the comfort of family, repairing a relationship that had spent the last four years languishing. But there were so many nights when I suffered through panic attacks alone, clutching a telephone but terrified to dial. There were a lot of closed doors, shut curtains, crying in the shower, and screaming in bed until I felt like someone had scratched their nails across my throat.


The year finally came together when I finally figured out what was "wrong" with me: I am an agoraphobic, and I have PMDD. When I finally figured these things out about me, I felt as if my life had suddenly realigned and everything I had done up to this point suddenly made sense. And a part of me kind of expected the self-diagnosis to be like a veil that was lifted off of my life, and that everything I had messed up in the last year would suddenly turn out to all just be a test, and everyone who had ever thought I was just some lazy, awful person would have to apologize to me and admit that they were wrong about me, but ultimately it all turned out to be very This Person by Miranda July, in which I still ended up drawing a bath and laying in bed reading Sylvia Plath and pretending I hadn't just missed the chance to be loved by everyone.


I have only one plan for 2011. I will get diagnosed for agoraphobia, I will be reinstated into UW, I will take treatment for my illnesses, I will learn Chinese, and I'll get my financial aid back. Of course there are smaller goals (like finishing all the albums on my list), but for once in my life I feel prepared for the fact that my life isn't perfect, that I am not normal and I do not always handle things the way a responsible person would.

If I Could Just Leave My Body For A Night

Merriweather Post Pavilion by Animal Collective

Insound

Certain albums simply define entire periods of a person's life. For me, 2007 was largely devoted to Of Montreal's amazing Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?, while 2006 was Minus the Bear's entire discography up to that year. For most of 2009, I hadn't really listened to much music until I finally listened to Merriweather Post Pavilion. This probably isn't uncommon for most people. As one of the best-received album in years (they got a 9.6 on Pitchfork, for goodness sake), most people are at the very least aware of Animal Collective, and even more have strong opinions about them (Because of this, it's almost embarrassing to seriously attempt a review of it).

I started listening to Animal Collective years before I heard "My Girls" for the first time, after hearing "Chores" and "Fireworks". Even though I liked them, I tend to enjoy music for only short cycles, and soon enough I had forgotten about Animal Collective. The next time I heard Animal Collective, I was in a cafe working when "My Girls" came on the radio. It may have been the extremely shitty stereo, or it may have been the unbearable heat and frustrating customers (this particular cafe is located by a Gene Juarez salon, whose hair stylists would be almost likable if they weren't uppity-snobs that never ever tip), but I absolutely hated what I heard. I spent several months completely ignoring the album, which wasn't hard to do when my computer crashed and all my music disappeared.

At some point in the year, however, my stubbornness was finally broken when I realized I wasn't finding any good music to listen to on my own. I no longer had people recommending me music to listen to, and it had been such a long time since I had looked up music on a site like Elbo.ws or Hype Machine that I really didn't know where to start. Well aware of the fact that most albums I hate I eventually love, I turned to Merriweather Post Pavilion.

I'd rather not try to go through each song and pick it apart, lyric by lyric, simply because I realize how long this post has already become (and also because I am itching to just get distracted and procrastinate on publishing this yet again). Anyone familiar with any Animal Collective song knows that there is rarely a clear narrative to any song. Much of the vocals are lost in reverbs, noise, and sometimes just complete vocal distortions so as to render any word incomprehensible. Instead, songs center around a general feeling or event which may only become evident after sitting down carefully with a pair of good headphones and the lyrics next to you. Even so, there are few bands that can capture a single emotion as keenly as Animal Collective.

Hey Listen World, I've Had Enough!

I thought that I would give up on my project, particularly because of the months I have taken off because I didn't (or sometimes couldn't) listen to any music. But as I was writing a statement explaining my decision to change it from a project to simply a wishlist of albums I will eventually listen to and cross off my list, I felt incredibly sad. Maybe I have a habit of starting more projects than I can finish, and I may not have the commitment to see many of those projects through, but the 365 project was one of the few things that I really looked forward to for the first quarter of the year. The last two months I have not even thought about music, but now that I finally find myself wanting to hear music again, I suddenly feel like it would be such a waste to give up now. I have five more months ahead of me, or more specifically, 188 albums to review in 176 days.

So, I might as well get started.

Nine Times That Same Song by Love is All

Insound

I started falling in love with music because of the freedom it gave me. My family is incredibly tight-knit; growing up, my mom tried to force my sister and I to be as close as conjoined twins. As a whole our family acts like a collection of reclusive people, so desperately alone that we cling to each other for dear life. I grew up sitting on an old orange couch, listening to old school hip hop and pop music from the 90s my sister liked on the radio. And that music simply never moved me.

I started listening to rock music by happenstance, and it was amazing the personal space bands like Smashing Pumpkins and Nirvana afforded me. For the next several years, music was an active assault on the limits of my life, and had a very physical presence in my rebellion against my parents. If I lied, had "attitude", or fought with them in any way, their immediate and swift punishment was to take my music privileges away. They believed that music would play only a small part in my life, a stage I'd eventually grow out of.

Unfortunately for my parents, the passion for music never really went away. When I turned to indie music in 2006, I immediately gravitated towards loud, forceful music that would drive my family away. I started listening to Love is All precisely for that reason: Josephine Olausson's half-shouting, Markus Görsh's driving drums, and even (sometimes especially) Fredrick Eriksson's frenetic saxophone. Between "Talk Talk Talk Talk" and "Trying Too Hard", Nine Times That Same Song is fast-paced, frustration-fused songs about love, watching too much television, aging, and trying too hard. For people like me that may or may not rely too heavily on lyrics to derive meanings, it may be frustrating to find that Love is All sometimes buries its lyrics through a fog of reverb and accented vocals (made worse when compounded by the fact that I can't even find lyrics online for half of the songs on the album).

After a while, that frustration with my parents and my lack of privacy eventually died away, and my music tastes became a bit more reasonable. I still seek space when listening to music, because I simply don't want to be accessible to people. A lot of bands have fallen by the wayside due to this shift, particularly Love is All. When I had finally realized I didn't need noise to build walls from the people that cared about me (my rotten disposition is good enough to accomplish that), I turned to twee and pop music. It took me a long time to find my way back to anything remotely "noisy", beginning with Animal Collective and burgeoning from there. It took a long time to find my way back to Love is All, which I needed yesterday morning to drown out the sound of my parents yelling.

I never really appreciated Nine Times That Same Song when I first listened to it, namely because I heard it for the sound. Of course, the sometimes angry-as-hornets sound is important in defining the album, as it expresses general frustration but also wound-up anticipation for life to get started. The album is, to a degree, rooted in real life events in the band members' lives, but it largely conveys sentiments: particularly, the album explores themes of love, apathy towards life vs. a hunger for something bigger, and generally trying too hard and still doing things that you realize probably weren't the best idea. There is an impressive presence of balance on the album, balancing frantic noise with melodies and pop hooks, as well as balancing all that energetic sound with lulls (just listen to the difference between "Spinning & Scratching" and "Turn the TV Off").

And luckily enough, if you happen to like Nine Times That Same Song, Love is All manages to keep from disappointing in A Hundred Things Keep Me Up At Night and Two Thousand And Ten Injuries (they kinda seem to have a thing for numbers, don't you think?).

Oh Raquel

Not to be kind of terrible, but last weekend I somehow got it into my head that it would be a wonderful idea to switch computers. So I disconnected everything and ended up lugging three computers all over the house. And then there were the million little technical hiccups (getting the wireless set up alone was an absolute horror). I'm still getting used to this new computer, but suffice it to say I am both parts pleased and frustrated with the outcome. And, as I still have to look through 23,000+ files under the folder titled "Music" (because seriously, that folder needs a little bit of organizing), I hesitate to even think about what that means for my 365 project.


But, if I go one more day without writing anything whatsoever, I will probably go insane. So, I have gratuitously replaced a hard to find album with something that I have been listening to lately. Call it cheating if you will, I call it an attempt to get back on the horse.

Has A Good Home by Final Fantasy

Insound

This may seem like an odd choice to anyone but me. Granted, Has A Good Home is pleasant and has its "moments", but of Pallett's three albums, this is undeniably his weakest. But I can't help my choice when this is the only good thing to happen to me musically since dancing to The Contours "Do You Love Me" over a week ago. In fact, many of the albums I enjoyed just a month ago I suddenly can't stand at all, so there really was no choice whatsoever.

Frustratingly enough, this album has generally been reduced simply to its quirks. The music in most reviews has been largely ignored or brushed aside, instead replaced with details about Owen Pallett and the making of the album. Because we all know that the defining characteristics of Has a Good Home has absolutely no basis on the music itself, which we will inattentively dismiss as "good, but not groundbreaking", but in the name-dropping of past projects Pallett was involved with.

If in an interview, Pallett describes himself as a misanthrope, or pointedly states "Musicians are humans", it's absolutely no wonder. Of course, background information may give some illumination towards understanding an album, but it shouldn't overshadow or define the album itself. Getting hung up on the concept of an album rather than hearing the music itself is just plain shameful.

As for the album itself, there are sixteen tracks and lasts about 45 minutes. The album opens with "None of You Will Ever See A Penny", depicting a man on his deathbed regretting his "ill-begotten wealth", singing to his heir, "I wish, I wish for you a lifetime of labor / Hard days make peaceful nights". The most famous track on the album is, of course, "(This Is) The Dream of Win and Regine", though it is not the only highlight of the album. As a whole, the album makes genial pop songs about love, among other things. 

Personally, I can't help but enjoy Has A Good Home. It's relaxing, and there are few things more pleasant than listening to this album really loud while walking around campus. I'd much rather listen to Pallett sing "Hey yo yo yo yo yo / I need an empire to overthrow / You make me wish for a more dangerous life / So I can show you 'bout self sacrifice" than hear anything anyone else is saying around me into their iPhones.

Though to anyone else, this album is somewhat lackluster and ordinary, in the words of Owen Pallett himself: "I don’t want people listening that are going to be that unwilling to engage in the music. In the same way, I feel like listeners, because there’s so much music out there, have stopped considering that the people who make music are living, working human beings, and as a result people ascribe a hierarchy to their music collections, and if somebody makes an album that’s worse or doesn’t sound the way somebody else’s sounds, they call it a mistake. That’s wrong, you know. Every artist listens to an album hundreds of times before they release it. I hope that people start realizing that musicians are actually groups of people who are making incredibly well-thought-out decisions."

Pull Up The People

Arular by M.I.A.

Insound

Odds are, everyone reading this has heard of M.I.A., and they likely have a very strong opinion of her. Because she blends so many different genres in her music, and her voice is very unique, M.I.A. tends to have very ardent supporters and very ardent critics. I have very little qualms in admitting I am not a fan of M.I.A. I'm not a critic, either, however. Hearing the occasional M.I.A. track on the radio, I really felt very passive towards her music. This passivity has persisted to this day, primarily because I was never truly interested in learning much more about her music.

It seems that it is necessary to know a few things before digging into any music by M.I.A. First, a lot of her music is autobiographical. Therefore, knowing about her is a necessity to understand some of the lyrical brilliance behind her seemingly innocuous dance songs.The album name is actually M.I.A.'s father's revolutionary name, who was part of a Tamil military group in Sri Lanka.


The album starts off with "Banana Skit", a short 30 second clip brought about by M.I.A.'s experience learning English. From there the album launches into "Pull Up The People" and "Bucky Done Gun", in which M.I.A. asserts that she has "got the bombs to make you blow/[she] got the beats to make you bang bang bang". Throughout the album, there is a liberal use of political subtext to all of the songs, ranging from prostitution, terrorism and Stockholm Syndrome.


Though I still don't listen to M.I.A. very much, I do recommend the album. There is enough substance to the album that it is enjoyable to think about, and it is danceable enough that if you become tired of thinking, you can just dance along to it.

Passive Neurotic Aggression

Haunt Me, Haunt Me, Do It Again by Tim Hecker

Insound

I originally chose this album because I was in the mood for some artsy music. Or at least, when I was sitting outside in the sun, listening to "Romeo" by Basement Jaxx, the thought struck me that I've been dipping too far into the more accessible stuff from my 365 list, and it's been a while since I stretched the limits of my musical tolerance.

Starting out, I'd never heard of Tim Hecker before, and actually chose his albums to put on the list based on this album's title (it brought a smile to my lips, and I figured it couldn't be that bad) as stuff to fill it out. So I won't hesitate at all to admit that when it comes to ambient drone, or abstract electronic music (or whatever you want to classify this as), I am absolutely no expert.

Haunt Me, Haunt Me, Do It Again can be described as almost cinematic, and indeed some of the track titles (like "Music For Tundra") seem to lend to this idea. The album spans 20 tracks (with actually 9 central songs that are stretched over multiple tracks) and lasts for nearly an hour, and from the beginning it is clear that this is an album meant to be heard in its entirety.

The album opens with "Music For Tundra", which is stretched over three tracks, in which we are introduced to the style throughout the album: that of rolling undercurrents of drone and buzz, with unpredictable cuts of noise. The album seems almost to grab onto an emotional current and is pulled along through those 20 tracks, exploring the depths of that emotion almost like one would explore a conceptual idea.

"The Work of Art In The Age of Cultural Overproduction" is by far the standout track. The title itself is a reference to an essay titled "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction" written by Walter Benjamin in 1935. Whereas most other tracks are either a practice of distance, alienation and loneliness, or a practice of depth, invitation and warmth (as much as it can be applied to ambient drone), "The Work of Art In The Age of Cultural Overproduction" is neither; 7 minutes long, the song is surprisingly tense and forceful. When the song gives way to "October", it is almost a welcome reprieve from the stirring yet sparse noises (and strangely, even though the song is seven minutes long, it almost manages to feel as if it is over too soon). From there, the second half of the album lends itself over less to static and more to synths, and almost seems to transcend into some kind of starry romanticism (even the song titles suggest this, with "Boreal Kiss" and "Night Flight To Your Heart").

Though the album presents itself as almost alien and strange, Haunt Me, Haunt Me, Do It Again manages to be beautiful and patient. The album is highly rewarding, and though it is to some extent haunting, the album invites you in to be haunted again and again.

Didn't Want To Be Your Ghost

I Am A Bird Now by Antony and the Johnsons

Insound

I've been listening to this album for the past couple of weeks now, and was puzzling over how exactly I should start it. When I first listened to Antony and the Johnsons, I had somehow stumbled on "Fistful of Love" on some random blog in 2005, and one night laying awake with my CD player (I didn't get my first iPod until 2007), I fell asleep mistakenly believing "Fistful of Love" was some sentimental love song, and no deeper than that. When I attempted to listen to I Am A Bird Now, I found the subject of gender confusion something I was incapable of understanding or even wanting to spend time to understand. And so for many years, Antony and the Johnson was only "Fistful of Love", and that song by itself was misunderstood.

The album opens with "Hope There's Someone", opening the album on a note of loneliness, in which the singer finds himself incapable of going to sleep at night for fear of dying in his sleep. This fear of "the middle place/between light and nowhere" could be assuaged if only there was "someone who'll take care of [him]". "My Lady Story", on the other hand, describes a body devastated by cancer, singing, "My lady story/Is one of annihilation". Here, the singer feels as if their body is broken, singing, "My womb's an ocean full/of grief, then rage/And still you're coaxing me/To come on out and live/Well, I'm a crippled dog/I've got nothing to give/I'm so broken, babe". "For Today I Am a Boy" has surprisingly simple lyrics, and poses as a song from the perspective of a hermaphroditic child, who sings "One day I'll grow up, I'll be a beautiful woman", later elaborating to "One day I'll grow up, I'll feel the power in me", but sadly sings "But for today I am a child, for today I am a boy". "You Are My Sister" is truly touching, opening with the lines "You are my sister, we were born/So innocent, so full of need". The singer describes their relationship, in which he "was so afraid of the night/You seemed to move through the places that I feared", and expresses a feeling of living inside their own world ("You lived inside my world so softly" and "But there's nothing left to gain from remembering/Faces and worlds that no one else will ever know"). The song ends with the sincere lines, "You are my sister/And I love you/May all your dreams come true/I want this for you". "Fistful of Love", which presents itself as a very innocuous love song, describes the relationship burdened by domestic violence, in which the person sings, "I tell you I love you/And I always will/And I know that you can't tell me/So I'm left to pick up/The hints, the little symbols of your devotion", finally singing "I accept and I collect upon my body/The memories of your devotion". The album ends with "Bird Gerhl", in which the singer has resolved all of their troubles, singing "I've got my heart here in my hands now/I've been searching for my wings some time", and feels that everything will be fine "'Cause I'm a bird girl, and bird girls go to heaven".

Though the album explores many themes (mostly that of gender ambiguity), the album is tied together with an overarching expression of trying to find love, even in the hardest moments. The album expresses a desire for someone to be there when you are at your weakest, when your body, your identity, or your situation is not what you might have wished for. If, when listening to the album, you focus on only the gender confusion aspect of the album, you are sadly oversimplifying it. Though Antony chooses a different aspect of struggling to explore the themes of identity, loneliness, death and love, the themes itself and the outcome of the album is accessible to everyone.

Better Sell It While You Can

Fever to Tell by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Insound

It was on some night, probably near 11:11 PM when I first heard "Maps" playing on the radio. It wasn't just "Maps", though, it was an acoustic version that bled immediately into an extremely subdued "Y Control". With Karen O's beautifully emotive voice (cracking at times as if the emotion was more than her voice could handle), it was hard for a 13 year old girl who was convinced she was in love to resist.

When I finally got on a computer and really learned how to use the internet, I tried listening to Fever to Tell, believing it to sound like "Maps". In fact, the first half of the album was so noisy I couldn't even get through it, and I didn't listen to the album ever again. Songs like "Tick" seemed almost juvenile, and through the years I brushed off Yeah Yeah Yeahs as mostly a rock 'n' roll band only young girls could love.

Sitting through it again, the "noise" doesn't seem to bother me quite so much. It isn't even that noisy, and though it lasts for about half of the album, it passes by so quickly that it's almost over before you're aware of anything. Of course, the entire album is almost eclipsed by "Maps", which is so beautiful that it by itself makes the album.

As for being "juvenile", there are surprising moments (when they're not trying to imply incest like in "Cold Light" or making little yelps in "Black Tongue") when it feels truly honest, particularly in "Maps", "Y Control" and "Modern Romance".  There are moments of lyrical brilliance, like on "No No No" in which Karen sings, "He'll always come back as the man you dropped/He'll never come back as the man you loved". "Y Control" also has a few moments of brilliance, when she sings "I wish I could buy back/The woman you stole", lamenting how she "believed them all". In "Modern Romance" is truly touching, never relying heavily on repetition of words or any yelping. Here Karen testifies that "there is no modern romance", and that time "stops who it wants" (eventually this line changes to time being able to "stop who he was").

Fever to Tell manages to be good not in any in depth sort of way, but it is enjoyable in the sense that it feels very carefree. The album passes by in a rush, lingering for a moment with "Maps", "Y Control" and "Modern Romance" before it breezily says good bye with "Yeah! New York"

Gravity Rides Everything

The Moon & Antarctica by Modest Mouse

Insound

Because it is my friend Cindy's birthday today, and her favorite band is Modest Mouse, I decided to review The Moon & Antarctica. I distinctly remember first hearing this album sitting on a lunch table out in the courtyard of our high school (my friends and I looking a lot like a collection of misfits). 


I've never truly listened to this album; not that day in the courtyard and not when I was trying to force myself to review another album. In truth, I never really heard it at all until last night, sitting with the lyrics and nothing on my mind. The lovely guitar strumming opening of "3rd Planet" caught me wildly off guard, and the lyrics completely snapped me straight out of my musical funk.


The album is truly significant because of its beautiful lyrics, at once deep and introspective, but cloaked in what can now be called classic Isaac Brockisms (that is, wonderfully cryptic but poetic and mind-blowing). In fact, if I were to attempt to call attention to all of my favorite lines and all of my favorite songs, this review would become so long that it would look is if I only copied and pasted the lyrics here. If any generalizations can be used at all, the lyrics generally manage to be existential and deep, yet painfully personal.


If there is an overlying concept being explored in the album, it could easily be what they shout in "Tiny Cities Made of Ashes": "Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?" The album opens with "3rd Planet" and the feeling that "the universe is shaped exactly like the earth/If you go straight long enough you'll end up where you were". This feeling of being trapped is expounded in "Gravity Rides Everything", in which everything feels inescapable. The album explores the themes of feeling trapped and wanting to find a way of escaping that feeling. Even so, there is the problem of feeling alone; in "The Cold Part", Brock sings "I stepped down as the president of Antarctica/Can't blame me, don't blame me, don't/So long to this sad, sad part of this world".


For me, I have never had much of an opinion on what the "best" Modest Mouse sound has been; whether it is raw and powerful, like their earlier albums, introspective and moving like The Moon & Antarctica, or glossy pop like We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank, I have never really felt either way about their sound. Singularly, The Moon & Antarctica stands by itself as a very beautiful album, and one of my favorites out of this project.

No Excuses

Girls Can Tell by Spoon

Insound

I started listening to Spoon in 2007, following the release of Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga. Despite three years of exposure, I never really got into them. After a healthy dose of Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?, I was simply tired of everything I'd ever heard before. As 2007 drew to a close, I stopped listening to music altogether (and two computer crashes did not help at all). By the time I started listening to music again in 2009, I had already forgotten all about Spoon. It wasn't until I decided to listen to Spoon again late in the night (in order to get them off my list) did I begin to fall in love with Spoon again.

Aside from nodding your head along to the song (or singing, if you are daring), smiling, or grabbing your friends by their shirt collar and saying "Listen to this!", there's something incommunicable about Spoon's music. I could say they sound clean, I could say they sound simultaneously angry and refined, but it would fall short of what Girls Can Tell really sounds like. I could attribute the aggression in the album from their being dumped by their major label, but that would be shortchanging the emotional artistry in the album.

Rather than analyze lyrics song by song, I will briefly mention some of my favorite tracks. Few albums open as tensely as "Everything Hits at Once", and "Believing is Art" is a lovely follow up to this track. "Me and the Bean" is one of my favorites, particularly for the lines "Do you remember when you were small/How everybody would seemed so tall/I am your shadow in the dark/I have your blood inside my heart". "Fitted Shirt" is enjoyable simply because how many bands will dedicate an entire song to spelling out the grievances of one-size-fits-all shirts? The entire album is so full of hooks that it's hard to pick just a single favorite.

I feel like I've done a pretty bad job on this one, but considering I'm very out of practice, I'll stop here and call it good. At least I didn't redirect you to Pitchfork, right?

I Hope That This Shaking Will Help Us Awaken

No Way Down by Air France

Insound

I have to be honest, I've never listened to Air France before. I wasn't really sure what I was expecting. I actually missed out on getting into the Tough Alliance and other Sincerely Yours artists. I didn't even listen to Since I Left You by the Avalanches (and still haven't).

So, all I can really say is that I enjoyed this release. The EP lasts just barely 23 minutes, and in that short time frame, Air France manages to take you to an idyllic place ("Collapsing at Your Doorstep" features the lines "Sort of like a dream, isn't it?/No, better"). The entire album is an exercise in happiness, and whatever few sparse lyrics you might stumble upon through the course of the EP, the majority of them will be blissful and carefree ("No Way Down" winds down with a repeated "Hallelujah").

If there is any real lasting impression, however, it would be this: I want an LP from these guys. Though stunningly beautiful and concise, No Way Down is almost too short.

The Emptiness of Talking

Everything is Good Here/Please Come Home by The Angels of Light

Insound

AAAAHHHH. STOP. JUST STOP.

Everybody, just say no!

When the Cactus Are In Full Bloom

Franz Ferdinand by Franz Ferdinand

Insound

I only remember Franz Ferdinand being played on the radio. Coming out in 2004, I was in the middle of catching up with the entire decade of 90s music. Because of this, Franz Ferdinand always seems much older than they really are in my mind.

Listening to the album now, it's hard to remember that this probably came out when I was in high school. I can't help but think "This sounds like it was released alongside Oasis and Blur". In the haze of my memory, Franz Ferdinand blends with Interpol and Arctic Monkeys, dance-able rock musicians that I only ever heard on the radio. They all just feel old.

Out of boredom I will link to Pitchfork's review, simply because I don't want to think right now. This will just be edited at the end of the month, when I have time.

I Don't Want To Know

Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix by Phoenix

Insound

It's been almost an entire year since I last listened to this album. On the cusp of summer, "Lisztomania" and "1901" were the perfect summer-welcoming songs. I didn't care to know the lyrics, I didn't care to analyze why I was listening to the album so much, it was just playing morning day and night. At some point towards the middle of the summer, I finally exhausted the album, and put it to bed.

At the time, I honestly had not put much thought behind the album. I held a certain amount of disdain for people that relied too heavily on lyrics to enjoy music (I often found myself snottily saying "There's more to it than just the words!"). It wasn't until months later I realized the Wolfgang Amadeus was a reference to the Wolfgang Amadeus Beethoven. When I had listened to it before, I had focused on its pop accessibility, I had focused on its clean hi-hats and slick guitars. My assumption that there was "more to it" than the lyrics had strangled the meaning from the album.

Listening to the album again a year later is proving to be difficult. I can't help but feel sad; comparing where I was a year ago to where I am today, and it just doesn't make any sense to me.

The subject of time is the predominant theme in the album, and the band explores this very thoroughly. The opener "LIsztomania" begins with Mars singing "These days it comes and goes", describing the end of a relationship. In "1901" he asserts that the "past and present they don't matter", elaborating in Fences that what was "once remembered now forgotten". "Love Like A Sunset", the album's 8 minute center, simply asks "When did we start the end?" "Rome" parallels the collapse of an empire to the end of a relationship ("2000 years remain in a trash can"), as Mars explains in "Countdown" that "true and everlasting, it didn't last that long." The band closes the album with "Armistice", summing the relationship between timelessness and love with the single line "for lovers in a rush/for lovers always."

The beauty of the album comes from its disjointed and often cryptic lyrics. The album sacrifices lucidity to more perfectly capture the emotion of looking back, using perfect phrases and words to capture the feeling but not necessarily the thought.

And Other's Hearts Are Guarded From The Blows of Random Pain

Lie Down in the Light by Bonnie "Prince" Billy

Insound

Prior to tonight, I've never actually listened to Will Oldham. This is a truly shameful feat on my part, considering his almost ubiquitous presence in folk music. Immediately evident is that Lie Down In The Light explores themes of comfort, God, love, and emotional aches, all with the air of finality and peace.

Musically, Oldham uses many standard veins of American music (gospel, folk, and country), but remains fresh and inventive. Overall, the album feels at once familiar but surprising; "So Everyone" features a washboard-sounding type of percussion, while the title track (if you pay really close attention) makes use of a little springish "boing" in the background and "For Every Field There Is A Mole" also features a surprising jazzy clarinet solo. The lyrics follow this pattern as well — "So Everyone" seems like your usual girl/guy duet until Oldham and Webber sing "O kneel down and please me/O lady O boy/Show how you want me/And do it so everyone sees me." Oldham and Webber again take the girl/boy formula and take a refreshing twist in "You Want That Picture", depicting a romance in ruins.

Thematically, Lie Down In The Light is a comforting album of reassurance in the light of doubt. In the opener "Easy Does It", Oldham sings "I number the friends and the family that love me/I welcome the ring of the moonlight above me/and I wander, and lay in whatever old bed/With good, earthly music singing into my head." The song itself opens on a note of resignation in which Oldham is faced with "only one thing [he] can do", but by the time he's numbered his friends and family, a happy little piano breaks through and Oldham admits "There's my brothers, my girlfriends/my mom, and my dad/and there's me/and that's all there needs to be". This feeling of deriving simple pleasures is present also on "You Remind Me of Something (The Glory Goes)", in which Oldham sings "I like the places where the night does not mean an end/where smiles break free/and surprise is your friend/and dancing goes on in the kitchin/until dawn to my favorite song/that has no end". There are also two standout tracks that directly reference Gospel; "For Every Field There Is A Mole" is a different take on Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 while "I'll Be Glad" references Psalm 23:1 and explores (and testifies) Oldham's faith and trust in God.

"Missing One" and "What's Missing Is" explore different facets of something being missed; in "Missing One" Oldham refers to the specific melancholy of missing someone, though he ends with "I know I will continue/to try and please you/and even in some ways/to try and be you." "What's Missing Is", however, discusses the emptiness of meaningless relationships.

The most explored theme on the album, however, is starting a new family. In "(Keep Eye On) Other's Gain" begins with Oldham stating "there's only so much here upon the earth to go around", coming to the conclusion that it's necessary to "keep your loved ones near". By the second half, Oldham describes familial needs ("You need me at the table/sitting down and nodding grace/and holding you just by/laying kisses on your face"), coming to terms with one's responsibility to fend for the family and protect them from harm. By "Where is the Puzzle?", Oldham finds himself disappearing from his family and ready to start anew, singing "And I want only you/and I trust only you/and I want only to/sing you". This theme of beginning a new family culminates in "Lie Down In The Light", where Oldham juxtaposes the sadness of life ("time and again one of us falls behind") with starting a family together (Who's gonna hold my heart/Who's gonna be my own own own?/Who's gonna know when all is dark/that she is not alone?"). Oldham wisely does not promise ease and bliss ("Heed this word: beware/for my heart's ways are unclear") but invites you all the same to lie down in the light.

Don't Even Ask The Question And I Won't Tell The Lie

Robyn by Robyn

Insound

If I've been listening to pop music, or those that are heavily influenced by it, it's because I'm tired. It's been winter here since September (as my friend so aptly put it, "If I have to put a jacket on to go outside, it's still winter."). Everyone around me wants to spread hate and negativity. The constant, constant, jabbering and squabbling is driving me crazy. It's not that I need sunshine, or everyone to fake a smile. I don't need a hug, or for people to tell jokes to the point that it's just humiliating. I just want people to forget their burdens for just one day, to let go of their need to talk, and to just stop the hating and needing and resenting. So I've been listening to pop music, trying to incur something other than the negativity I'm surrounded by.

Robyn opens with a cliche, but a cute one at that; a spoken introduction to Robyn ends with the lines: "In this world of tension, pressure and pain, she's known by men and women of all origin and faith for her wisdom, compassion, and relentless determination in the quest to get paid." From here on, Robyn manages to be both endearing and just kind of funny (she uses lines like "You're a selfish narcissistic psycho freaking bootlicking Nazi pimp and you can't handle me").

But what draws me to this album, personally, is the way it reminds me of pop music I might have listened to as a child (kind of Spice Girls but better). Admittedly, my music tastes have changed drastically since childhood (they change drastically on a week-to-week basis), but I think my inner child and I can find some common ground with Robyn. For one thing, Robyn manages to offer both mature enough content to warrant a parental advisory sticker while being simple enough that the ten year old in me would have idolized ("Who's That Girl?" might have been her personal anthem for quite a few years). On the other side of things, Robyn is a wonderfully dance-y album, dabbling with electronic beats and making stunningly cheeky lyrics.

The first two tracks serve as a the stereotypical introductory tracks; "Konichiwa Bitches" depicts Robyn as "so very hot that when [she] robs your mansion/You ain't call the cops, you call the fire station" while in "Cobrastyle" Robyn finds herself stating "I press trigger I don't press people button" (does the album really need three cliche opening tracks?). The album doesn't actually delve into more substance until the fourth track, "Handle Me" (which features the interesting little quote at the end of paragraph two). Most songs on the album deal with love, both the ups and the downs. In "Handle Me" Robyn is turning down some bar fly, while in "Bum Like You" she sings about her devotion, singing "Your car's a dump and you're broke/that's alright/I never liked them fancy guys". "With Every Heartbeat" Robyn is trying to "make it alright" to the point that "it hurts with every heartbeat". From "Eclipse" to "Anytime You Like", Robyn slows it down a little with slightly sweeter and more serious lyrics, but ends the album off with "Jack U Off", which is about jacking off your partner in various locations.

While Robyn is no work of art, it is mercifully short, never staying too long in any given cliche. And, since it indulges my inner child (who is woefully malnourished since I stopped listening to Mariah Carey when I turned 12), Robyn is one of the few pop albums I actually enjoy.

You Used To Be So Pretty, But Now You're Just Tragic

Vampire Weekend by Vampire Weekend

Insound

The majority of music these days are dressed in fuzz and distortion. Unless the music is high-brow, pretentious and "sophisticated", a clean sound is utterly unpalatable. We want our musicians to look like hippies, we want them to sound distorted and scuzzy. Vampire Weekend disregards both of these things, choosing to make completely unpretentious pop music, keeping it clean and direct.

In fact, as Koenig and Co. would themselves say, "Through the pain, I always tell the truth".

Most people I know either love Vampire Weekend and everything they do, or they don't. For those that love them, their "Afro-suave" pep and clever lyrics (managing to sing about Dharamsala, referencing Lil' Jon and Peter Gabriel, kefir and keffiyeh) are a source of unbridled enjoyment; for those that hate them, their clean sound, obviously college-influenced lyrics and "preppy" image seems a little too Ivy League.

Their honesty is perhaps the reason they're so clean; you don't have to hear Ezra featured on The Very Best track "Warm Heart of Africa" to know their influenced by Afropop. Vampire Weekend manages to be adorably unpretentious despite the World Civilizations lingo and Ivy League learning precisely because they do what they're good at, and leave the rest behind. This translates to a lot of sonic space, the guitars, bass and drums so completely refined that it feels spacious.

Generally, the songs explore themes of materialism and life. In "Mansard Roof", Ezra finds himself describing mansard roof through the trees while "the Argentines collapse in defeat". "A-Punk" is a clever little song about a punk (aha!), and "The Kids Don't Stand A Chance" seems to be a song globalization as imperialism. However, on the other side of things, "Oxford Comma" hits on a more personal note in which we wonder, "Why would you lie about anything at all?". "I Stand Corrected" is the standout, a serious apology ending with the lines "Lord knows I haven't tried/I'll take my stand one last time/Forget the protocol/I'll take your hand/Right in mine/I stand corrected".

When I first heard Vampire Weekend, I kind of blew them off (mainly because of "One (Blake's Got A New Face)" distorted on the car radio was not very appealing), but I stand corrected.

My Ghost Inside You Soon Will Be

Crystal Castles by Crystal Castles

Insound

There are only a few things I will admit to listening to in 2008, Crystal Castles being one of them. Aside from not listening to music in general, in the rare cases that I did find something to listen to, I somehow managed to be listening to something stupid. It's honestly no wonder I didn't enjoy 2008 — I was missing out on Neon Neon, Hercules and Love Affair, as well as Burial and so many others.

Whenever I listen to Crystal Castles, I remember sitting in the car singing along to "Crimewaves", no matter how strange the chopped up syllables became. I remember listening to "Untrust Us" and trying to explain sampling and remixing, and failing because it felt too rudimentary to be explained. But somehow, I never seemed to make it past those two tracks. In fact, as the year drew to a close, I felt less and less need to go further than that. "Xxzcuzx Me" was so thoroughly off-putting I typically gave up on the rest of the album by that point. It wasn't until riding the bus today that I finally really listened to the entire album.

Though it's true Crystal Castles isn't the best album ever, the music itself is mysteriously enigmatic, undulating between barking shoegaze ("Alice Practice", "Xxzcuzx Me", "Tell Me What To Swallow") and glossier, more accessible synth-y music ("Untrust Us", "Crimewaves", "Vanished", "Good Times"). Though the album features 16 tracks, in under an hour Crystal Castle takes you to so many different places it's hard not to enjoy at least some portion of the album.