Two things:
1) How many Rock Crimes can you spot in this video?
2) Can you correctly identify why this performance rocks anyway?
I look forward to your responses,
Oats
Feb 192008
Oats
Feb 112008
After watching The Wire at Townsman Alexmagic’s place, we switched over to catch the second half of this historical musical meeting — Keely Smith, Kid Rock and some sax player I initially mistook for Corey Feldman.
Feb 012008
Your thoughts, please.
Dec 202007
I’m curious to hear what you all think of this performance.
Nov 152007
I am fascinated by movies that are huge, ambitious, and completely unwatchable. But that’s not the same as enjoying seeing these movies, mind you. Most of the time, I prefer to wait for detailed descriptions show up on Wikipedia, or, better yet, Nathan Rabin’s awesome My Year of Flops column on The AV Club.
It looks like this week, the epitome of the big-budget, overwritten trainwreck genre is released. I refer, of course, to Southland Tales, writer-director Richard Kelly’s reportedly incomprehensible, multi-character follow-up to his overrated-but-interesting Donnie Darko. This is one bloody, firey mess that I know I will have to see at some point in my life. But will I actually pay money for the experience? God, no.
My question for everyone today is: What is the rock equivalent of these kinds of films? Some candidates: This year, Of Montreal released Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? a bizarre cut-and-paste electro-pop album filled with jittery melodies, meaningless song titles, and embarrassingly personal lyrics. I love it. Also, there are those first few post-Big Star solo albums from Alex Chilton, Bach’s Bottom and Like Flies on Sherbert. But those albums are shambling and deliberately underdone, not overdone. How about one of my favorite albums, Jellyfish’s Spilt Milk? Or perhaps Sandinista by The Clash? What do you think?
Nov 142007
Here are the results of my second listen through The Best of The Libertines. On one hand, I feel semi-qualified to take on this task, as I think I’m one of the bigger Anglophiles on RTH. On the other hand, my favorite British bands tend to be bookish, socially awkward smart-asses (I will not use the word “arses.” There are, after all, limits), such as The Kinks and Pulp. I’m not sure The Libertines fit in that category, at least not in the terms under which Townsman Kpdexter defined them. Let’s do this.
Up the Bracket: Opens with a garbled yell (shades of “The Right Profile”) which is at least attention-grabbing. Then the song starts with a sort of stiff, martial punk rhythm. Now I know where the Arctic Monkeys got it from. I can imagine this song serving as an awesome encore. Honestly, it’s a good song with a decent hook. I can see this band having a devoted fan base, but I don’t see how they’re worthy of any real appreciation by an outsider like myself. What’s here that I can’t get from The Clash or Buzzcocks — or Art Brut, for that matter? Besides the stupid junkie mythology shit, I mean.
Time for Heroes: Without paying close attention, I can tell the lyrics are worthwhile, and they’re sung with more personality than the Arctic Monkeys.
Are we on the second album now, is that why everything is now suddenly vaguely muted and pensive?
Mayday: More stiff, frantic punk. It’s getting old. Now I picture myself seeing this song performed live while everyone around me goes nuts. A lot of elbows in my face – not fun. Hey, the song is 1:04. That’s kinda neat.
Don’t Look Back Into the Sun: I realize this is a Best of… album, but did this band have more than one setting? I can see why BigSteve wondered how much credit for the band’s merits should go to the producer. This really wants to be on the first Clash album.
Tell the King: A slightly more acoustic number. Drummer plays with brushes and there’s a little bit of Kinks-like melancholy here. It’s nice, it’s good – don’t get me wrong, kpdexter – but it just seems awfully inessential to me.
What Katie Did: Nice opening riff, but these doo-wop harmonies are kinda dopey. Are we on the second album now, is that why everything is now suddenly vaguely muted and pensive? Rhyming “girl” with “world” – a bit of a buzzkill. This song wears out its welcome.
Can’t Stand Me Now: Another very Clash-like song, especially the melodic side that The Libertines’ producer brought to that band. I like this one. I’m a sucker for bap-bap-bap rhythms played by snare drums and/or handclaps.
What a Waster:– Oh the irony! Or not! This song feels rushed, in a whole number of ways. Not least similar to Saturnismine’s issue with latter-day Ted Leo. The need for bathroom breaks continues to plague neo-punk heroes!
The Delaney Boys: Didn’t this song come on earlier on the album?
In the Band: Zzzzzz. Oh wait, there’s a neat hook in the chorus. But do we need another song about “the boys in the band?”
Death On the Stairs:: Nice hooks and all. It’s got a little bit of that “American Girl”/”Last Night” rhythm. Again, though, I feel like I heard this earlier.
I Get Along: Must continue. Must get through pro forma punk anthems.
What Became of the Likely Lads: Whatever, guys!
So. Decent band. Some good tunes here. Great punk production. But I find they’re impalpable in album-length form. This thing ran out of steam, which is not something greatest-hits albums should do, you’d think. I can’t see this album passing Andyr’s exacting, greatest-hits standards.
So, not only do I prefer the 10 bands I listed, I prefer just about every other British band on my iPod. Of course, it is possible that I hate fun, rock ‘n’ roll, etc. I am, after all, a bookish, socially awkward smart-ass.
Nov 092007
Carrie Brownstein has a blog and it’s pretty good. Here’s a sampling from the most recent posting.
My deal-breaker is preciousness: when the music is a tiny, baby bird that needs us to be nurturing and respectful, otherwise it can’t spread its wings. I like quiet music, folk music, solo artists–it’s not a matter of volume or numbers, but it is a matter of art being able to stand on its own two feet. I don’t think music needs to be coddled, no matter how delicate or soft it sounds. When a band or singer makes me go “awwww,” as I would at the sight of a newborn child, then that is a band that needs a pacifier not an amplifier. Other indicators of preciousness include, but are not limited to: matching old-timey outfits; mumbling, soft-spoken stage banter that trails off and is quickly followed by a cutesy smile, which for some reason garners huge cheers from the audience; being so nervous on stage that someone in the crowd has to yell “you can do it!” or “we love you” (exception made here for child performers); asking people to lie down on the floor for the next song; and any audience sing-along or participation so complicated that it needs to be explained BEFORE the song starts. When I am at an overly precious show, I am often filled with contrarian, immature urges: suddenly banging a gong, stepping on a whoopee cushion, or knocking some vegans together to start a mosh pit. I think what bothers me the most about preciousness is that it takes good form and reduces it to good manners, and turns performance into charade. I have no trouble taking music seriously or considering it special, but I don’t need to be instructed about why it is.
It’s like she’s plugged right into the RTH mind!
Of course, you might that a devoted follower of “small-rock” such as myself may have issues with this piece, but not really! If Belle and Sebastian can bring a sense of showmanship (and they do!) then anyone can!
