insta-review

Insta-Review: Drive-By Truckers, Brighter Than Creation’s Dark

Posted by KingEd

Mar 282008

I dodged a bullet recently after having applied some of my tough love to the latest platter from The Raconteurs. Maybe you heard. A handful of Jack White’s biggest fans jumped me in a cubicle, took a red pencil to my draft – marking Roman at each instance of boldfaced text. “It’s my editor’s idea of a parody of a gossip column!” I pleaded, but that wouldn’t stop them. They called me names then shoved their iPods in my face, making me recite all the happening artists’ names as they scrolled down their menus. One guy even had the nerve to gun for my job! Damn college kid! I began to regret having spent so much of my Raconteurs review citing obscure bands like Boston and Foreigner. “Shoot,” I thought to myself, “is it hipster pride that makes me look beyond the obvious and informative Terry Reid reference I could have made while expressing my thoughts on ‘Rich Kid Blues’?”

Instead of harping on the difficulties of that experience, I decided to take away the one clear positive from the Phawker Mailbag: My readers care, my readers really care! A lot of responsibility comes with being a rock critic. One of my reviews could sink the career of an established, multimedia artist. One of my reviews could change the course of a college kid’s illegal downloading habits. And with that responsibility, I realized, comes a high ceiling of growth. If I get really good at this reviewing job, I might be able to work my way up to reviewing Pearl Jam‘s next concert tour. I might even land my dream job of writing a regular television or blog review column for a major metropolitan newspaper–or a glossy, weekly entertainment mag!

It’s with this new perspective, that I pledge to write a more fair-balanced and intellectual review of the latest CD from gutsy, often ironic roots rockers Drive-By Truckers, entitled Brighter Than Creation’s Dark. Recorded during and after the band’s acoustic Dirt Underneath Tour, the album is said to feature a more stripped down, country-based sound not heard since their sophomore release, Pizza Deliverance. Following twists and turns the band has been through since the release of the ambitious, breakthrough, double-album Southern Rock opera, The Southern Rock Opera–a virtual rock ‘n roll Vicksburg Campaign–it’s only right that the band would seek shelter in the values of their Muscle Shoals forefathers. Let’s have a listen!
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Insta-Review: The Raconteurs, Consolers of the Lonely

Posted by KingEd

Mar 252008

So The Raconteurs are back with a second album (streaming at Phawker.com – click the title of this post to be magically transported there). Who woulda thought The Raconteurs would really be a band and not just a Jack White side project wank-off one-off? Not me, buddy boy. Not me. And while I tip my tri-corn hat to the Raconteurs for kicking it old school, turning this thing around so quickly, and releasing it without all the pomp and circumstance that usually precedes a White Stripes release, I just wish this album didn’t suck so bad. To wit:
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Insta-Review: Gnarls Barkley, The Odd Couple

Posted by KingEd

Mar 202008

UPDATED: The tracks KingEd initially received for review were in the wrong order. His review has been reordered to reflect the proper sequencing. Some of his comments may now be out of context but, he assures us, “no less valid.”

You may click the title of this post to swing on over to a streaming version of this album courtesy of our friends at Phawker. Whether you listen along or not, I encourage you to let my real-time thoughts on this album sink deep into your being. There’s enough crap music made every year without the need for retro-crap of this magnitude.

“Blind Mary”: Here’s a “cute” number about stalking a blind girl named Mary. How sweet! This one has that digital approximation of the ’60s Ed Sullivan sound, which seems to be this band’s bread and butter when not doing the Night at the Roxbury party music. I’m really feeling nostalgic for that “Groove Is in the Heart” band, Lisa Stansfield, and other late-’80s/early-’90s British imports that delivered watered down versions of half-decent American dance-pop music. Damn, I know these two guys aren’t British, but they water down half-decent music with the best of any trendy Brits over the last 20 years. Bring back Fine Young Cannibals, pronto! At least those guys knew how to finish what they start. This is yet another song that just conks out after the initial ideas are introduced in the first 30 seconds.

“She Knows”: Now Gnarls dials up a Bacharach/David vibe! Chattering electronic beats threaten to come to the fore. There’s some kind of digital hiss all over the vocals. Why? Or is this a drum machine’s idea of playing the snare with brushes? More Ikea Music. Let’s make out.

“No Time Soon”: Is this a Harry Belafonte number? It’s kind of folky, but now it’s threatening to open up into a Fifth Dimension-style stoned soul picnic. Yes, that’s where we’re headed, load into the Way-Back Machine, digital style, meaning we’re slated to hear the same damn electric drum beats rather than the studio majesty of a Hal Blaine. This is Ikea Music, for practical living!

“Whatever”: What’s this, Gnarls Barkley’s take on garage rock? I can confidently say this one doesn’t suck, but here’s a little word of advice: garage rock works much better when there’s a fuzz guitar or overdriven Farfisa/Vox organ driving through the proceedings. Otherwise, why bother?

“Who’s Gonna Save My Soul”: All right, we’re getting into some mournful soul saving and coffee table soul! The singer just pronounced the “t” in often. Man, that’s a pet peeve of mine! “Who’s gonna save my soul, now? I wonder if I’m gonna grow old, now…” This, my friends, is SOUL music, or at least what we think it should be when we’re not really paying attention.

“Run (I’m a Natural Disaster)”: What the hell is this, Spencer Davis Group’s “I’m a Man” done Alvin and the Chipmunks style? Slow down, dudes. Like Col. Steve Austin once said, “She’s breaking up!” I’m curious to hear from people who dig hearing the constant chattering of electronic hi-hits, as featured in this song.
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Insta-Review: Cat Power, Jukebox

Posted by KingEd

Feb 082008

Under glass?

Please stay with me tonight until I fall asleep. I’m afraid I may be entering the belly of the beast. Unlike you, I’ve never gotten into Cat Power. I’ve got enough of my own troubles; I don’t need to live vicariously through hers. The sultry voice only goes so far with me. The coffee-table soul she’s been getting into over the last couple of releases is better than what she used to do, but I don’t entertain too often. Those few I do entertain want to check out the real stuff. So here goes, an Insta-Review of Cat Power’s second album of covers. Is the well running dry, or is she revisiting her newfound roots? Either way, I’m scared.
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Insta-Review (Blurp…blurp…blurp…): Stephen Malkmus & Jicks: Real Emotional Trash

Posted by KingEd

Jan 152008

Blurp, blurp, blurp, blurp, blurp…

I’ve been looking forward to this one for a couple of years, since a friend turned me onto Malkmus’ last album, Face the Truth. I haven’t anticipated an artist’s next release like this one for some time. My hope and optimism are bound to let me down. Here goes!

“Dragonfly Pie”: I’m digging the rumbling fuzz guitars and the overall sinister vibe as this one gets underway. Wait a second! It’s getting light and airy, with falsetto singing and a cheap electric piano sound. Ah, back to the distorted, double-stop guitar licks and the sloppy buzzing sound. Truth be told, this is a pretty lame song, but so many modern albums start out with sloppy mood pieces. Shoot, he’s back to the falsetto-$20 electric keyboard chorus, but now he’s back to the the simplistic, mind-and-string-bending solos I so crave. Dig those analog synth noodlings. All right, ended just in time.

“Hopscotch Willie”: This song title scares me. I’m sensing a Steely Dan song of some sort, maybe by way of Frank Zappa. So far this one’s meandering along in a poor man’s Steely Dan way. The song is still young, though. There’s plenty of time for some fuzzed-out string bending. Here’s a different kind of solo, more ’70s, a bit like the solo in Face the Truth‘s super “No More Shoes”. One big difference: the slight “Hopscotch Willie” tune surrounding the solo doesn’t go anywhere. Patience, Ed, patience… Now the song has broken down to a little rickety piano and vocal section before Malkmus takes it into some almost Santana-like jamming. Come on, man, I’ve been counting on this album.

“Cold Son”: This song may grow on me. It’s a bit stilted with a smooth chorus stuck between all the jagged edges. Don’t know what else to make of it on first listen.

“Real Emotional Trash”: Ooh, the title track promises something special! It starts out delicately, the tension building ever so slightly only to get sidetracked by some pretty chord or melodic twist. I’m telling you, though, it’s going to kick any minute now. Ah, listen to those tasty guitar runs. “Daddy’s on the run…” Can you feel it building? Yeah, check out this dual-guitar climb, like the gateway to some extended Television jam. Yeah, baby! Stomp on those effects boxes, play that guitar! Blurp blurp blurp blurp goes my bong. “I’m gonna start doing something with my life, mannnn!” Now the wah-wah pedal has been initiated! Blurp blurp blurp blurp… Pick up the pace, a chooglin’ piano is playing what sounds like The Doors’ “L.A. Woman”! Malkmus is back on vocals, singing of “Frisco” and other Doors-worthy nonsense. This is what I need! Now another dual-guitar solo segment kicks in, this one in a scale that The Allman Brothers might play. I think it’s winding down. I’m fried, man. Tender section, like something Lou Reed and Robert Quine might have played on The Blue Mask. Wonder if they stuck stereo mics on a Styrofoam dummy’s head?
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Insta-Review: Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, Raising Sand

Posted by KingEd

Nov 172007

Today I set out to listen to and share my thoughts on the Robert Plant/Alison Krauss album, Raising Sand. This collaboration, which the artists have taken great pains to say is not an album of “duets,” was produced by T-Bone Burnett. I’ve been looking forward to hearing it in its entirety. I must note that unlike most of my Insta-Reviews, I couldn’t help but hear snippets of some of these songs on the artists’ recent radio interviews, but I’ll try to keep my thoughts as fresh as possible. You have counted on me to fire from my gut, and with 2 eggs over light and a few strips of bacon still rattling around in my innards, I’m in tune with that ample part of my anatomy.

“Fortune Teller”: Right from the start, producer T-Bone Burnett’s deliberate, futuristic-retro hands are all over the production of this chestnut. It sounds like it’s more of a set-up piece than all that this collaboration promises. Is Krauss anywhere to be found other than on the backing vocal tracks? Cool guitar solo.

“Gone, Gone, Gone”: I love this Everly Brothers song! Just seeing the title scroll across the Phawker Radio player gets me excited. Plant and Krauss sound good, but what happened to the groovy beat of the Everlys’ orginal? Burnette’s insistence on seeing through his musical designs can be his strength as well as his weakness as a producer (think the ups and downs of Sam Phillips’ Martinis and Bikinis). Watch it, T-Bone! When this version needs to cut loose and hit a new dynamic, the same beat and grinding rhythm guitar carry on, as if programmed in long before any of the players got cooking in real time. Not bad, though, not bad.

“Killing the Blues”: Here’s a tender ballad featuring sweet harmony; pedal steel guitar; and a low, twangy guitar solo. Folk Scientist Burnette lets the musicians play on this one without the need to adhere to any grand concept. AAA radio was built on such dignified takes on earlier works. Maybe getting old’s not so bad!

“Let Your Loss Be Your Lesson”: Krauss takes the lead on this track, and this woman’s got pipes! The guitar work is really nice, which I’m finding is a consistent theme throughout this album. I guess Plant is sitting this one out.

“Sister Rosetta Goes Before Us”: This track’s got that straw hat/overalls rolled up/bare feet in the pond feel. I’m afraid of it. Mischievous boys should be whitewashing a picket fence. T-Bone probably wore suspenders while producing this one. Plant looks stupid with a waxed handlebar mustache. Don’t get me wrong – this is a beautiful little song, but I have no business listening to it.
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Minute-by-Minute Review: Get Out of That Mothership and Fight Like a Man!

Posted by KingEd

Nov 062007

KingEd reviews the 43rd digital repackaging of Led Zeppelin’s Greatest Hits…in real time!

Funky dollar bill

The other day I was driving around with my oldest son when Led Zeppelin’s “Good Times, Bad Times” came on the radio. I cranked it up – and then cranked it up further as the solo approached. I tried to square my jaw like Bill Cowher’s and show the boy what it means to be alone, not to care what the neighbors say. Little did I know the song was probably programmed to play at that particular time on that particular Classic Rock station to celebrate the release of the latest 2-CD, remastered, repackaged Greatest Hits collection by these mighty titans of ’70s hard rock, Mothership. This edition was personally sequenced, remastered, and violated by the surviving members of Led Zeppelin. Even the ghost of deceased drummer John Bonham is said to have done his part with a red snapper.

Listen to “Dazed and Confused” and consider just how small Jack White’s well-intentioned dick is in comparison. Oh, John Paul Jones, no wonder Robert Plant is moaning during the psychedelic breakdown! As noble as Plant’s recent collaboration is with bluegrass artist Alison Krauss, this is the sound that gets the kingsnake-a-rattlin’. By the time we get to Jimmy Page’s typically ham-fisted guitar solo, who the hell cares?

As far back as the late ’60s, did the dark arts in which Plant and Page dabbled divine the following decade’s coming punk rock revolution? “Communication Breakdown” would forever haunt stuck up, insecure punks of my generation. No matter how cool we thought we were with our pumping, Ramones-style Barre chords, the mighty Led Zep had been there, done that.

Manliness established, it’s time Page picks some delicate arpeggios on his acoustic while Plant trolls for a maiden or three. “Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You” goes out to the ladies. The delicate pleas of the front men are punctuated by the massive tom fills of John Bonham, rock’s heaviest drummer. Eventually, following one last volley of Page-Plant curlicues, Bonzo inspires the pretty boys to give up the chase and go for the kill. “Baby, baby, baby, baby…” As a teen I was amazed and disgusted by how many times Page could moan “baby” and “woman.” To this day I’m a bit baffled by this practice, but now I’m willing to let it ride.
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