Hypocrite Listener vs Daftpop Mix Showdown part II-I'm turning this into a summmit

First, since Anna made such a fantastic list with a far superior defense attached to it, I'll give it a track by track response. My unfocused rant will follow. So let's dive in...

Beyonce-Single Ladies
This song never really did it for me, but I'll admit to the power of this song. I actually like the verse's melody more than the chorus. I've seen people just lose their shit dancing to this, so I'll back down from criticism.

Big Boi and Gucci-Shine Blockas
I love this song so much. Oh man yes, yes yes.... It reminds me of the first time I heard Hey Yeah or Ghettomusick, like getting my mind kicked in. I just feel like Big Boi tries a little harder than most to deliver, like he doesn't phone it in. This year's Int'l Players Anthem.

Fabolous and The Dream-Throw It In The Bag
Not feeling this one. Seems like paint by numbers to me.

Ghostface-Do Over
Fantastic. Maybe it's unfair to give props to straight up samples over synth beats that sound like samples, but the production gives the song a life blood, a warm throbbing thing to ground it. Maybe I'm too much a product of the 90's. I will never fuck with Wu Tang anything.

Beyonce-Halo
I've never appreciated this song until now. Beyonce is a great performer, her timing and delivery are perfect here. This is something I don't think Rihanna (I'm sorry) could pull off. One qualm, the production is pretty schlocky. Like, they could have had some real strings here, it would done her voice justice. Maybe it would have broken the aesthetic of the album as a whole, but it would have elevated the song. And if the Dirty Projectors can afford real strings, than Ryan Tedder can put down his fucking synths for one second.

Pet Shop Boys-All Around The World
Ok, I like this song. There are a number of indie acts working within these tropes, but none I've heard do them justice like this. I don't like his voice but fuck it. Maybe I just got spoiled by Beyonce on the last track.

Basement Jaxx-Scars
This is sweet, great dubstep vibe. This got me out of my seat on first listen to dance around alone in my apartment. Ace pick.

Elektrik Red-Freaky Freaky
Not doin' it for me. When “My Love” came out it seemed revelatory, like the future of music. But those synth stabs now just take me right back to 2006.  Although this is a decent track, it's using some well worn tricks.

MSTRKRFT-Heartbreaker
This is close to cheating Anna, dude was in DFA1979. I do really like this track though. Some straight up dance material, but done exceedingly well. Love those oh's.

Kanye West-Knock You Down
This sounds like Kanye phoning it in. I feel like I've heard this song before.

Raekwon-Cold Outside
YES. Right here, I like that the bass is kinda low in the mix, and that sample is tinny and a bit harsh. It allows the tension to build up to a desperate fever pitch. And those chorus vocals are the best argument against the current trend of robo-pop singing I've heard this year (close second is DOA). This is so fucking good, nothing I picked even touches this Anna. Again, Wu Tang=probs gonna love it.

Lady Gaga-Bad Romance
This right here is Rococo. So, Lady Gaga is channeling some interesting source material, and she has an impressively wide range of vocal stylings. Her lyrics sway between cheesy and clever, and there's something liberating and weird and subversive about her. She is still suffering from some of that robo-future shock that's all over the radio right now. Granted, she was a progenitor of that sound. Still sounds expensive and hollow, so perfect for clubbing.

The Dream and Kanye West-Walking on The Moon
The Dream wins me over on this one. It's hard to say why exactly. Seems a little more restrained, more relaxed than the other tracks he's done.  This get's close that  80's late era Motown hit sound.

Cam'ron-My Job
Thank you for introducing me to this song. We need more mundane-shit songs like this. Did you ever listen to that Diamond District album? It's not as funny as this, but has the same M.O. I guess the lesson here for me is that I do love Hip Hop after all.

Clipse-Kinda a Big Deal
This has a good Madlib/Dilla style stutter beat to it. I actually like this better on the second listen. Still think the rhymes are a little flat here, some retread Kanye shit.

Basement Jaxx-Raindrops
Another winner. I don't listen to enough dance music. Don't have a single criticism, just love.

Oh my god Anna, you've written quite a response to my mix. I've missed a lot of these songs, which is admittedly pretty sad. So we'll wait until later to say which mix is better (if that's necessary or even possible) but you certainly have won in the war of words/blog posts. Your post actually had me excited to hear these songs, which is something that countless Slate articles and NY times pieces could not do. So I'll concede defeat as far as that goes. Beers are on me.
Also, I've realized something that has been staring me in the face for a while but didn't want to admit. I've turned my head away from top 40 music for so long, I don't even think of it as a choice. Like, I stopped listening or caring at around 13 (a nadir for radio if you remember) so now I'm actually just lost anytime I think about pop music actually being, you know "popular." I can't read the signposts anymore. Whereas the very popular but still secondary world of "indie" or just sorta-pop, or critically acclaimed pop (or whatever) is a territory I feel more comfortable in. And when things happen there, in that world of music obsessives and innovators/trendspotters, they matter to me more than what ever happens in the top strata of cultural exchange. I mean really, pop radio could fucking burn to the ground for all I care. And yeah, that's a pretty childish thing to say. I'm know not everyone feels that way, nor should they, but I guess I should own up as to where I'm at.
But, allow some last bitter defenses for the independent world:
   As much my auto-tune beef sounds geriatric, I still stand by my assessment that pop music suffers from a serious case of dumbed down production values. Now maybe the production contains some quality compositional merits or even stylistic innovation, but as far as sound design/engineering (sense of space, dynamics, harmonic richness, timbre), it sounds depressingly flat and similar. I think this is one of the overlooked aspects of say Dilla or FlyLo, that the music actually takes up physical space in a very different way. Some of that has to do with source material and composition, but a lot of it is production values, straight up.
   This is a complaint of someone who loves records as discreet art objects, who doesn't mind turning up the volume for a quiet section of a song, that will actually sit in front of a stereo and do nothing but listen to a record. So, yes, it's unfair to criticize pop music for being super compressed (within an inch of it's dynamic life) when that is a technical concern for radio play and ipod listening (shit needs to be loud to be heard on the train, in the club, or let's be honest, as your ringtone). BUT, I think it's plenty fair to say there's more than one way to skin a cat, and that record producers have been shy when it comes to fucking with anyone's expectations as far as what a top 40 record should sound like. If you've ever heard the early leaked versions of 808's and Heartbreaks, you'll see what I'm saying. The leaked version of “Robocop” is far superior. Sounds jumping out at you, the vocals even a little low in the mix, the over all effect actually less robotic sounding than the overcooked album version. And what about the independent world? Well, recording aesthetics abound, lofi, midfi, glowfi, expansive and spare (Grizzly Bear), expansive and dense (Animal Collective), intentionally shitty (Wavves), and many that will mix it all up (Bon Iver's haunting and genius use of autotune). This seems like a small bone to pick, except that this shit is literally in my head for hours a day, so I like timbral variety. This rant could go on forever, this is obviously a Nigel centric issue.
    Here's a more hasty defense: Independent music, as codified as it is, is actually more of a free for all. You'll have to allow in the definition of “independent music” to include bands and albums not on Pitchfork's Best New Music List, or even on p4k at large. Independent labels release more records by more bands. Maybe majors move more units, but the indie world has a larger roster. And it may seem like small stakes to some people, but there's a lot of squabbling and debate between the different camps of bands who often have to share the same stage on the same night. As much as Jay Z listening to Grizzly Bear is undeniably cool, it's also just the biggest name of one world giving props to one of the biggest names of another. There are weirder and wilder bands informing each other, playing the same festival, and sometimes those conversations can get interesting. Hipsters may look the same, but there are battles going between these kids (over some stupid shit at times. Ok, maybe most of the time). That is to say, no one totally dominates and it's hard to win everyone over (even for AC). Now, who's actually gonna take potshots at Jay Z?
But, I will admit there are some real virtuosos and innovators on your list. And, I do like a lot of it at first listen. In fact, overall, it's made me a bit more poptimistic.  So thanks for the mix.  I didn't expect this to turn into a summit (yes I did), but I'm glad to have done this.  Means a lot to me, Anna.

Stay critical or die,

Nigel

Hypocrite Listener vs Daftpop Mix Showdown

Ok so Anna, I think I may have overreacted a little bit.  Maybe it's my increasing boredom and annoyance with blanket hipster hatred.  This has a lot to do with working downtown with people who live on the north side who always bitch about these "stupid hipsters" who live in Logan Square and Pilsen and well, you fill in the blank.  I know, it's easy to hate them/us/the other ones that aren't us/people who live in Brooklyn/the dude from Wavves and I've had more than my share of grievances aired on this here internet.  But at the same time, this is sorta my generation, and as far as vaguely defined cultural aggregates go, I fall into that camp whether I like it or not.  And even if I don't aspire to the shifting ideals of indieness (cuz I'm already living it motherfuckas), I still love the a lot of the music these laughably dressed rich kids make.  So here it is, a brief smattering of my favorite white guys (some white girls too) with guitars (ooh, and samplers sometimes) from year 2009.

Cannibal Resource-Dirty Projectors

As far as annoying hipster baggage goes, these guys have it all.  East Coast, Ivy League, classically trained, quirky vocal strangulations, afropop guitar, Brooklyn.  But as much as the DP's are omnivorous and scattered in their influences, they're obsessively coherent in their sound.  You want your auteur, I've got him right here.  Dave Longstreth is crazy obsessed with his music, clocking in twelve hour rehearsals and touring like crazy.  It pays off, nothing they've done sounds lazy or phoned in.  Like it or not, you have to respect what they've pulled off.

Skin and Bones-Flashy Python

This is Alec Ounsworth of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah fame, playing here with some dudes from Man Man and the Walkmen in a one-- off balls to the wall rock album.  Even amongst all the "lofi/shitgaze" albums this year, nothing has sounded as raw and loose as this album. If you thought CYHSY was too twee, here's an antidote.

Laura-Girls

Oh Girls, it's so hard to love you.  This is pretty straight up nostalgia right here, but done incredibly well.  It's the bassline that finally won me over.  Also, I like this dude's voice, hiccups and all.

Walkabout-Atlas Sound feat Noah Lennox

Bradford Cox of Deerhunter + Panda Bear = Indiebro love in awesomeness.  Also, this song could just be that one sample and I'd still love it.  Did you ever listen to Deerhunter?  Cryptograms is one of my favorite albums of the decade, as is Person Pitch by Mr. Lenox.  Both of those albums restored my faith in music when they came out.  Both of these guys are pretty fascinating people as well.  I would probably most like to be friends with these guys.

Amplifier-Kurt Vile

My hero for the year, and by far my favorite new artist.  KV is refreshingly free of shtick or pretense.  He can hang with the lofi acts, but is too subtle to really be tagged as a one of those faux punx.  He played a fantastic set at the Empty Bottle, and I think he played every request, and there we quite a few, dude has three albums and an ep out, just in the last 18 months or so.

Useful Chamber-Dirty Projectors

Oh my god I love this song.  This is what I wanted the Fiery Furnaces to sound like when I heard about them, and hyperactive mixture of musical heroics except in this case, with a trajectory.  Favorite nonsensical refrain of the year, every time it comes on my body goes into spams of unadulterated joy.

While You Wait for the Others-Grizzly Bear

The other great pop hit from Veckatemist.  Like the last track, not afraid to lean heavily on the vocalese for a great build up.  Admittedly some of the album is on the boring side.  But it's neither lazy nor unoriginal.  I guess this is my argument for most of these bands, that they're hard working people who make engaging and interesting work.  And that still stands in contrast to the bulk of pop radio these days (as exciting as it can be, especially compared to say, the late 90s), specifically the set-it-and-forget-it trend of auto-tuned to death vocals over recycled beats and increasingly boring sampled material.  On a side note, "Two Weeks" features Victoria LeGrand as well (she's ooing in the background) so maybe your love of Beach House is the real culprit here.

Imagine, Pt. 3-Smith Westerns

These guys are like 19 years old or something, and they're from Chicago.  It's like Girls without all the melodrama and like any halfway decent Chicago band, I'd like them to blow the fuck up and get all the attention.  We'll see.

Silver Trembling Hands-The Flaming Lips

Ok, so as far as indie as fuck goes, this is a stretch.  But the rock press is all a tizzy about The Flaming Lips not sucking.  And, this song makes a strong point for that.

Brother Sport-Animal Collective

It's a fucking party!  No seriously.  If you take nothing else away from this, I hope you appreciate the sheer and total joy of this song.  Play it on the loudest sound system you can find.

Alright Piontek, I tried my best, it's your move.

No Respect: Flashy Python

Flashy Python-Skin and Bones

    Ok, this is a new one, so it remains to be seen if this album picks up any steam.  But as of right now, one of the best releases of the year has garnered almost no real praise from anyone outside my apartment (or so it seems).  Perhaps because Clap Your Hands Say Yeah got too much attention and backlash for Ounsworth's side project to be considered as new act worthy of new fans.  I suspect that this fuzzy in your face album further distances Mr. Ounsworth from reclaiming his once large appeal, and I also suspect he could give a fuck.  And that is exactly why this album sounds to fresh to my ears. 
    As underrated as Some Loud Thunder was, it still is largely a bridge burning, intentionally notching up the weirdness and sacrificing the hooks.  It's easy to respect but at times hard to actually enjoy.  Skin and Bones basically puts the hooks back into the equation, and thanks to his new bandmates (including members of the Walkmen and Man Man), he's also added some, er um, balls to his sound.  It reminds me a lot of Destroyer's Rubies in the way Ounsworth seems free and easy to fly his freak flag.  Though not as sprawling or epic as Rubies, it's thrilling to hear someone so brash and confident and totally unconcerned with current trends while still being concerned with making a fantastic album on his own terms.
    The production is at times gratingly distorted, but it at least maintains a dynamic range if only because of the performers.  And, unlike the generic lofi sound being abused right now (often by bands who really don't need it) it actually suits the music incredibly well.  Unfortunately, the production plus Ounsworth's unhinged vocals render his lyrics all but unintelligible. Overall, I'd describe the sound as drunk and sweaty, and if that sounds disgusting to you, I guarantee this isn't for you.  But for me, this sounds like a show I'd really like to go to.
    Without a doubt, this is Ounsworth working at his best, and as albums go, it may be my favorite of his so far.  It may not be as anthemic as his original band's debut, but it's much less self-conscious, much more off the cuff.  And through the whole album, he sounds completely ON.  I'm not completely sure why so many of his former fans have completely jumped ship.  Perhaps it's the singer not the song, and well, it could just be plain ol' fickle trendspotting.  And to be fair, Alec should maybe sober up spend more than 30 seconds before naming his next band.  But I hope that the albums creators don't feel as ambivalent about it as most of their reviewers do, because they're certainly off to a great start.

Hypocrite Listener vs Daftpop mix challenge

Ok so, I got a little hot headed and said some things and now I have to throw down tomorrow against my good friend Anna P in a battle of musical tastes and mix-making.  Backstory here.

I'm making a mix of songs that I love that Anna may or may not have ignored in her indie malaise.  I am not so much trying to beat her, as win her over, but not in the romantic sense, making this a tricky mix indeed.  In the spirit of friendly competition, loser buys drinks.  Probably we'll both buy drinks and then buy some more because we haven't hung out in a while and drinking is a thing I like to do with people.

Um so, dear readers, any suggestions?  Any white hot 2009 hits from the indiesphere that I shouldn't leave off?  Also, if you find yourself on the other side of the fence in this debate, send your submissions or moral support to Daftpop.

Ok, tomorrow I'll be ready with a mediafire link and a lot of explaining.

Some poeple can't get No Respect: One Time Bells

Introducing the No Respect series, a new project dedicated to praising the unappreciated or overlooked. Well see how long this lasts, but I hope this will pull me away from the pointless ranting (raving) that I've become fond of. Today, I start with early aughts post punk revival also-rans and current d-listers, the French Kick's first album, One Time Bells.

French Kicks - One Time Bells

   First, a little history (skip down a couple paragraphs for the real review if this bores you to tears). I found out about this album while searching amazon.com for similar artists to the Strokes while in Newspaper class. Just sorta killing time while I pissed away the first two class periods of the day. On Amazon there was an ad banner for "Hot New York bands" which advertised both the Walkmen's debut album and this little forgotten gem. Interesting that the ad was not much more than the above words and pictures of said albums. Also interesting that this was all it took to convince me that I desperately needed both albums immediately, a distant time of nievete for both the internet and myself. Also, who knew the tiny Startime label had such a marketing budget? The hunt had begun. I listened closely to 30 second clips of all the songs and thought, oh boy, this is like the Strokes but a bit more distant and cold, more rough around the edges, more believably a real underground band. I had to have it.
   A few weeks later I was in Chicago for a youth group midwinter formal. Like prom for frustrated christian kids set in Chicago featuring shopping at Watertower, a night at the Holiday Inn, dinner at fuck if I can remember, and classical music brought to you by the Moody Bible Institute's symphony orchestra. Honestly not the worst evening I've ever spent in Chicago. I snuck off to the poolroom that night to stare at the skyline and dream of urban fantasies. The next day while shopping, I made my way to Borders on Michigan determined to buy this album to soundtrack said fantasies. I asked the clerk for the album and she said she'd hadn't heard of it (YES!! I WIN!) but was able to track it down. $14 dollars later I cradled the digipak in my hands and basked in the glow of a perfect find. I was at this point, surely the coolest kid in my youth group, and not too secretly breaking away from the pack.
   I didn't get to listen to the album until I got home due to a draconian no headphones rule in the church van. At this point, I think I was about to kill someone as I watched the skyline disappear as we made our way back to the permagrey of northwestern Indiana.
   When I finally got home, CD on deck, headphones in and pushed play, I can't say I was blown to pieces. But my ears were perked. Something about the angular warbly guitars, the never totally on key singing, and the incredibly dry production almost put me off. But the songs were good, and most had one or two oh-shit moments. It wasn't much like anything else I'd heard. Eventually those quirks would be what made this album so unlike some of my other favorites at that time. I can tell now that the rough aesthetic is a choice, but it isn't put overtop the music, it worked within the dynamics of the songs. It gives the album a hungry almost amateur quality. The use of space in the production is disjointed and boxy, some sounds sounding stuffed in a corner, some right in your face, usually in the reverse order you expect. It all could just be amateur recording techniques, but it works very well for the album.
   And the songs. Again, they're not gonna change your life (although, at a certain age, they could), but they are solid and original. Built from a little hardcore, some garage rock, some modish power pop, and a little falsetto, the tracks sounded familiar enough to be uncanny, and they just barely seem to work. Honestly, there are moments that grate (the falsetto on Close to Modern) that risk making the rest of the work feel tenuous. But the Kicks keep it up and deliver assuredly. So much so that they pull off some tricks that in the hands of a lesser band would sound like total shit. The vocals for instance are lazy and a little sardonic, the tender spots almost bordering on parody. Add the fact that none of their voices are instantly memorable, I start to wonder how they even pulled this off. And yet, there's something unassuming about the album that stands in stark relief to everything that came out of New York at this time (since for that matter). Funny that the understated quality is what I find so comforting and lasting about this album, when it's not really what I was looking for at the time, and that this trait has arguably been a hindrance for the band. Much like the Walkmen, the songs make me pine for a time that never existed.* That really is an interesting emotion and rare quality, one that has to be hard to pull off.
   Unfortunately, the Kicks' career has been short of illustrious. Every once in a (great) while I'll read an apologetic review of a new French Kicks release, the long and short of which are always "these guys are alright, I feel bad for them though." As much as I love their debut, their proceeding albums have tended toward slick pop and are (from what I've heard) kinda boring. Which is something you could say about One Time Bells, but you'd be missing on the perfect pop gems like "When you heard you" or "1985" and a propulsive if obtuse line up of songs that have amazingly only gotten better with age.

*This I have to credit to Andy X

Nigel Overreacts Again

   First, Pavement is reuniting next year. Oh shit. I don't know what to say. For some reason I want to hide even though I'm inexplicably happy and shocked and yet not shocked and then a little underwhelmed when I think of the reality of it. But what if they went into the studio? Oh shit oh shit oh shit. What the fuck am I going to do when I live in a world where Pavement is back together?

   Ok, second, anyone who hasn't read this or this, should if you're into that sort of thing. Nitsuh Adebe's passing glance at 'indie culture' is spot-on for the most part and Anna's addendum takes the debate out of the aesthetic ether and brings it into the real personal-political realm in which we live, and where most of these questions of good vs bad, twee vs hardcore, inde-cred vs indie-tastic are banged out. I had the privilege of knowing Anna during her indie years, making this an even more interesting topic. Because it's both a story about zeitgeist and personal histories.
   Everyone agrees that things have changed since those oh so distant pre 9/11 days where independent and mainstream music sat confortably on either side of the aisle. The change has been pretty massive, but it's happened rather subtle. Or maybe rather, in a herky-jerky and uneven fashion, leaving a pretty fractured music world in it's wake. Fractured, but also indelibly connected and intertextual, if I want to get all faux-academic, which I definitely do for god knows why. This is where I break from Nitsuh's argurment: that there are two warring factions. I know it's a streamlined thesis, a simple way of looking at a complex thing for a certain ease of discussion and summation. And suprisingly, he's on point. He's got a good point about indie having been a pretty uncomplicated term in England for a while. He also nails the early aughts desperate desire for propulsive and snappy guitar rock. It's easy to forget what life was like before the Strokes and the White Stripes. Which leads me to another pet project of mine: Although we think all indie roads lead back to Pavement, most roads probably lead back to the Strokes. More on that in some other post. But yes, a bunch of stylish rich kids on a major label living an impossible New York fantasy life kicked open the doors to a lot of minds. Lame but true, and also not totally lame.
   Which brings me to another much larger pastime of mine: bitching about New York. I think my major objection to Nitsuh's article is that he never mentions New York, let alone does he bitch about it. And bitching about New York or defending it has been a major topic of discussion this decade, so let's talk about it. New York has an unimpeachable music history, by far a towering meccah of cultural importance. But as many have pointed out so elequontly, New York doesn't exist anymore. That is, it is not a real place. Follow me here, CBGB's is a fashion outlet. The Village, Chelsea, SoHo, the Bowery, all impossibly priced and razed beyond recognition. Surely, history has not been totally scrubbed from the streets, but the narrative that starts there is dead, killed by gentrification or co-option or what have you. Totally inarguably dead. Brooklyn is maybe a place, but I have my doubts. Becuase I don't understand how it works. Does everyone's parent's pay their rent? Is there a 1:1 ratio of practice spaces to apartments? Does anyone have a real job? I ask these questions because from everything I see or hear, from the New York times to Pfork, Marnie Stern, to the lyrical content of Brooklyn bands themselves paints Brooklyn as fantasy world where everything and everyone is creative, vibrant, well dressed, in a band, an artist, a cloumnist, a dj, between 18 and 30. Whatever Brooklyn does is lapped up, documented, dissected, worried about, and praised. Like, this is where America's precocious navel gazing children go for life camp, and the media are their collective overbearing and exuberant parent's who force us to weigh in on every accomplishment and mishap. And the Times piece on the hipster paunch must be the watershed moment that forces a mea culpa on behalf of the media. Shit has to stop. Right? Homework assignment, someone tally up the Best New Music picks from the last two years, and see what percentage of the Americans are from New York. I took a passing glance, and it looks devastating.
   I'm not saying that New Yorker's aren't talented. Not at all, and the fact that Brooklyn's hegemony is so pervasive, just means bands will flock there, widening the pool of good music. But, there remains a serious lack of real life coming from Brooklyn. That is, most of these bands are deficient in speaking to any of the experiences of most of their fans. Either too vague and cryptic, or too ironic and overly clever.
   But enough about New York. Back to real life.
Let's talk about how we come into contact with new music these days. The Internet is the short answer, a longer answer would probably include our friends tastes, pitchfork, the New York Times, NPR, CW shows, Ipod commercials, blogs, etc. We can talk about the death of print music criticism, the dying music industry, obsolete physical medium, leaks and piracy. But what about the subtle personal shifts?
   When I was in high school, I had what is called an opinion leader, and his name was Andrew. By opinion leader, I don't mean that he made the opinions for his peer group, but he was the central source of information about music for a handful of his friends. Not only because he had good taste and intelligence, but also because he had a high speed internet connection, access to a credit card for online puchases, and a CD burner, all things I did not. I was what is called a low end technology user. A funny thing happened after I got my own computer and credit card and went to college, the balance of information and debate shifted. I had my own concurrent stream of new music and information, and began to stake out my own cultural individuality.
   I mention this because I think it's a nice little microcosm of the shift in the influence of music in social exchange. Andrew was like a record store clerk. He heard everything before you did, had access to albums you didn't, and his own opinions about what was good and bad. But like any record store owner, he was also curator to his friends and spread the gospel of good music, new and old. This was the story for a lot of kids interacting with music. There was a record store, an older brother, a cool friend, that girl you were interested in, etc. These people still exist for sure, and there will always be the guy or girl who just cares a little bit more than you, who will be more up to date. But access is more or less equal to all. This matters because it helps to obliterate time and place and the cognitive space of music culture. As Andrew deftly pointed out when talking about local music scenes, it's just as easy to have a scuzzy Philly noise rocker that actually lives in Minnesota as it is to have the Philly scene. Ok, Andrew I butchered your quote, sorry. But it's a good point.
   This is how Brooklyn exists in the minds of millions who have never been but dream about it. It is possibly even more real online and in our (my) fantasies than in physical space. Which makes the development of a local scene easier in one way, the fact that you can connect quickly and easily, and harder because why stick around your shitty town when urban escape fantasies abound. I know that people have always flocked to New York to make it. The difference now is that fantasy world is so reinforced by ubiquitous media, so much of it uncritical of the indie lifestyle, that anything outside of it irrelevant. There are exceptionms, but have you noticed how much these other scenes look identical to each other? What does this mean for independent music as a whole? Will kids chase the fantasy of bohemia and make the music of their heroes, or will they dig their heels in and say, this is where I am, this is who I am, enough with the bullshit?
   Nitsuh brings up another good point: what's at stake in taking a critical stance on an album or band. This has always been a part of the hipper than thou indie culture. But now, it's not just about taste, it's personal, it's political. You like Pains at Being Pure at Heart, fuck you, you're ruining music! You like the Black Lips, no you don't, not really, you don't actually listen to their records, fuck you, no one does. On one hand, as I get older I have the firm sense that I can listen to whatever the fuck I want more or less unapologetically.    And under the weird big tent-The Animal Collective, Deerhunter, Dan Deacon, No Age tent-this sentiment is the norm. You can like whatever, that's cool. As long as we're all cool about it, and politics of fame or influence aren't involved. But the problem is, those politics are omnipresent on the web, and to some extent, in real life.
   Consider Nathan Williams and his crimes. His biggest crime wasn't being an ass onstage, his biggest crime was being anointed by the hype-machine and not being genuflect about it. I don't mean to drag this episode out again, but I think it was one of the most interesting events this year. The scuzzy noisy rock guys (Psychedelic Horseshit, Black Lips) attacked him because he's a little spoilt bitch who can't handle his drugs. I also imagine a lot of those nice polite indie fans hated him for being such a rude little punk. And of all people, he would be the ideal mixture of the two camps Nitsuh talks about. Scuzzy, gruff, loud, noisy, on an honest to god inependent label(s), but also pop-accessible, popular, young and sorta attractive, sorta awkward. But instead, he was a mixture of the things both sides hated (so it seems), the unearned popularity, the self entitlement, the hipper than thou stance, the lack of technical proficiency, the hot chicks dancing absentmindedly at his show. And this is where I posit that the Nathan Williams Daytripping episode and subsequent breakdown (they are inseparable in my mind) act a cogent characterization of the indie world at that moment. Everything's there: the shit hot label showcase at SXSW, the hype, the token weird band from Philly with token unkempt hair that you're supposed to like, the burgeoning alcoholism, overly earnest MTV interviews, the vampirical bloggers, the insidious consumerism no one really seems to mind anymore, the awkward hip-hop fandom (and let's be honest, cool as it is, it's fucking awkward as all get out, just look at Jay-Z swaying to Grizzly Bear, awesome and awkward, which is I guess, what indie rock always kinda was).
   I watch this all and I think, this is real, this is what's really happening! The Smell, Todd P, Brooklyn, Baltimore, 'Loft Pop' are all real yes, but only for those who are actually there. For the rest of us in flyover country, they remain a distant fantasy. And yet something about the Kafkaesque spectacle of Nathan Williams failing to graciously navigate the unreal world of indie-rock hype strikes me as the unseen unheard underbelly to all this. He's was at the center of the disgusting circus, and just his ability to make people feel weird is admirable. That is, the argument about what's wrong with Wavves inevitably leads back to the argument about what's wrong with the music world that spawned him, and that's why I keep coming back to it. Also, god it's fun to talk about at parties.
   I think it's interesting that Anna has been pushed away from indie and towards Hip-Hop. Interesting because I've had my own initiation into Hip-Hop love and fascination. Interesting because lyrically speaking, Diamond District's In the Ruff has been the most relevant album I've heard (well, at least a tie with Merriweather Post Pavillion, which doesn't count cuz it's big and universal and stuff). And it hit's me that it's no longer hip-hop tourism anymore, and I feel oddly a participant. Oddly, because I know I'm outside the world of hip-hop fans and even further from street life. Then again, maybe not. I dunno. Maybe it's just a bit closer to my life than the aesthetic aloofness, niceness, and/or genre exercises of indie music.

New Music in Brief

Between a new job and being in a band that is coalescing into more of a reality than a fantasy, I haven't had as much time to listen to new music. Summer is also a culprit. Albums are a good way to keep my sanity during the dark and cold seasons, but during the summer a nice bike ride or a walk is all I need to escape whatever stresses come my way. Also, my mp3 player is busted. Yet, some things have popped up on my radar worth mentioning.

The Diamond District-In The Ruff

I've been listening to this since the first couple days of spring warmth, and I can't say enough about how this is a perfect summer afternoon album. I'm at a loss as to how to push this album on my friends. Usually I can point to several awesome 'oh shit' moments on an album to lure someone in. This album doesn't run high on those moments, which is no slight. The charm and strength is in its sustained level of quality, and it's warm lived-in yet confident production. Neither the beats nor the rhymes ever steal the show, but work together letting it all go down easy. And yet, during that time these guys paint a refreshingly honest and clear eyed view of American life in the Obama era, despite the occasional dated Bush reference. And the beats are so good. Just straight up flawless musicianship. Like that organ part on “I Mean Business” that could have been hackneyed, chopped up, or overdone. Instead, it hangs there haunting, Oddisee having the foresight to let it ride through a long progression, allowing it to play perfectly with that little rhodes part when it comes in. And when it fades into “Get In Line,” it's like, yess. That's what this album trades in, those yess moments that make it look so easy. The title track is just one long yess moment, especially when it hits it's stumbling outro. Put this on when you're doing dishes or something, watch your quality of life improve.

Five O'clock Shadow Boxers-The Slow Twilight

A dark, brooding album not afraid to sample Radiohead or Velvet Underground for maximum effect. I have to say, I was surprised how well they used such recognizable source material. Sometimes when people have the balls (gall) to sample something like Venus In Furs, it feels like a celebrity cameo. Charming and sometimes exciting, but ultimately a distraction. The grimy production pulls these samples into its own sense of paranoia and violence, not unlike the way Scorcesse can get away with using Rolling Stones hits (well, before that was a punchline). Zilla himself is so so as an MC. I mean, he's not lacking in ambition or tenacity, but he's not engaging enough to live up to his dramatic backdrop. It's like you're expecting Travis Bickle to come out with his gun in hand, and instead you get some guy talking about being a weird kid in high school, his grandma's tuna sandwiches, and how he took enough martial arts that he doesn't need a gun to fuck you up.


Sunset Rubdown-Dragonslayer

Spencer Krug has taken some cues from Dan Bejar and has learned how to wield his maniacal yelping into self referential epics. Not that his previous work was anything less than epic, but Dragonslayer is less aural onslaught and more lyrical, and fuck it, way more musical than Random Spirit Lover. Whereas RSL was so much catharsis and exclamation points, Dragonslayer is more nimble, more dynamic, and more rewarding for it. Sure, RSL is some document of impenetrable genius. But Dragonslayer makes good on some promises made by Krug's earlier work. It's occasionally just downright beautiful. Like the refrain “Anna Anna Anna oh, why'd you change your name?”

A Review of Reviews of Bitte Orca, and Kind of A Review Too.

By now the merits of Bitte Orca have been expounded at length: Dave Longstreth is really brilliant, and this album is so sweet.
Of course it’s shortcomings are also flushed out and rationally articulated: That guy’s voice sucks.
I would like to first point out that neither of these opinions have anything to do with my own opinion on the Dirty Projectors, but rather what I have culled from reading the Pitchfork review, the Stereogum review, and the comments after the Stereogum article titled “Wait is Bitte Orca the Best Album of 2009?” (My personal response was “Wait, Is that The Worst Headline of 2009?”)
Then I would like to note that the praise of this album as previously stated still begs the question of why he is brilliant. The answer seems to be that he makes concept albums. No, no, not like Tommy, like, art-rock concept records. Dude’s got one about Don Henely. Wild right? Like how I just said “Dude”? Not an article to be seen. Street.
The detractors actually engage the music a little more, but kind of also miss the mark. Dave Longstreth has a really good voice by indie rock standards, he just seems either incapable, or more likely just uninterested in writing an actual melody (In my worse moments I think, Christ does he even plan? Has he ever sang a song the same way twice?). But his voice is fine, the best description is that he’s not Bjork, and someone needs to remind him. His guitar lines are also given to this proclivity. He’s a completely atonal shredder. Is this any more or less impressive than someone who creates more linear lines? For the moment let’s allow it.
Here’s where the real divide comes: if it’s art rock, all sins of atonality are forgiven. If it’s held to any other standard, Dave Longstreth probably needs fewer people to say that he’s brilliant, because what he actually is is unfocused. And yeah, the unfocused occasionally produce a DaVinci, but more often they give us golden retrievers. Here is where I propose that all music is art, and to call something “Art rock” tells us nothing about a music other than “You’re not going to like it the first [couple] times you hear it,” and this album is praised as being the DP’s most immediately likeable album, so you know, the statement’s kind of vacuous. As long as you accept that good music takes attention, and music should give back what you put in, the title “Art rock” should be written off as an insult, saying that the album in question is deficient in the category of “First Impressions.” It’s a shallow category, one that has more to do with someone’s mood, and even more to do with what they’re used to.
Music criticism most often seems to follow the formula of “back story, then comparison,” (except in the golden age of Pitchfork when it was more like “Personal anecdote + virtuosic string of contemptuous statements”), and to a degree I’ve gotten used to that, and can interpret fairly well what’s going on from this formula. But the reviews of the Dirty Projector’s new album were especially deficient. Can I for a moment try my own hand at reviewing?

Good effort, but the lack of [a linear] melody, in both the vocals and guitar lines amount to even the cathartic moments still being kind of tense. I think ideas here drag on a little too long, and that the instrumentation is only surprising in how little it surprises. So if you want a fun record, it’s occasionally kind of fun, and if you want to challenge your assumptions of rock music, this is about on par with the Red Eye’s crossword.

I'm rooting for them though. B minus. I know you can do better.

Back Off

So Nathan Williams is pulling out of Europe with his tail between his legs (one assumes) and the the future of WAVVES and of angry bloggers worldwide is cast back into the unknown.

I've been trying to write a response to this for days, but can't keep up with the unfolding events. I was going to (did) write a rambling defense of Mr. Williams against the deluge of shit talking and Schadenfreude that has been coming his way since Pitchfork founder Ryan Schrieber threw him under a bus and turned a Best New Music act into a whipping boy overnight. And since I have no idea what will happen in the next couple of hours, I'll try to do this while I have the chance...

If you haven't heard of Williams or his noisemaking project, WAVVES, then you probably don't read online music criticism because the internetz has been all a tizzy over him since his album got the blessing/curse of Best New Music. Wavves is the latest in a new crop of Pitchfork lauded “lo-fi” acts that have been polarizing fans and critics and stirring up all form of undeserved praise and ire with only a passing listen. For many, this 'meltdown' wasn't the first questionable move young Nathan has made in his months old career. There's a hilarious daytripping episode where he gets piss drunk and pretty much deflates the gaudy spectacle of SXSW. Some saw it as a portrait of a self important prick. I like to see it as the only reasonable response a young man could have to endless free beer, gushing praise, vampirical bloggers, and nonstop performances. And, if you have even a cursory understanding of his music, it should be no fucking surprise.

You see, Wavves makes noisy melodic punk rock, a kind of bastard throw everything on the wall and see what sticks music that takes up every bit of sonic space in a swirling mess that is (admittedly) hit or miss. I mostly like it. It's indulgent, it's at times annoying, and it never hints at any amount of technical ability. But it is made with urgency and and a certain kind of honesty. Not the bullshit honesty of someone who hunts for days on ebay for a cassette four track so he can sound like Robert Pollard. He doesn't push the boundaries of music, nor does he faithfully pay tribute to any one tradition. It's a mix of Williams' musical interests, a mix that isn't revolutionary, but isn't tasteless. And it isn't a bit pretentious either, which is where he get's himself into trouble.

Something has happened in the last couple of years in the independent music world. Something has developed amongst Pitchfork's cultural ascendancy, web 2.0, American Apparel, Stereogum, and the countless cultural signposts that have sprung up since say 2003. The independent music world, and 'indie-culture' has grown into a half defined, half praised, half maligned, sorta movement, sorta thing. That is, there is a HUGE amount of cultural baggage that wasn't there before. Back in the good old days, hipster culture could be pretty well explained by High Fidelity, or maybe a Yo La Tengo album. Now, the lines have been blurred. The sense of otherness and alienation in response to mainstream culture has disintegrated because, where is mainstream culture anyway? Hipsters are sitting on a good portion of it now, and it's made a lot of people feel uncomfortable to say the least.

And this is all a completely silly thing to talk about, isn't it? But, consider Nathan Williams. What king of hipster is he? Is he the well dressed American Apparel cultural tourist? Is he the laid back west coast vegan alterna-kid Believer? Is he the more-obscure-than-thou contrarian? A member of the Brooklyn trust fund elite? These questions are never asked straight out, but almost everyone weighing in on the situation has an answer. And I think, this is where a lot of the hatred and the instant backlash come from. New artists who debut with a Best New Music approval have to submit to this ritual, this is nothing new. His breakdown only provides living proof to his instant detractors that he's not up to the task.

Here's the rub: he didn't ask for this. I'm sure he was probably glad to have the press, the hype, the festival invitations, the good reviews. But only up to a point. He seemed pretty weary already when his Daytripping episode was filmed, and I can see why. Not one person seemed to care all that much about him or his music, but rather the aura of fleeting fame buzzing around him. Everyone seemed incredibly disappointed when the guy who made scuzzy stoner punk rock, was actually a scuzzy stoner punk.

People are disappointed in his shows because he's unprofessional. Well where the fuck did you get the idea that he was a professional? He has almost no touring experience. He's just a dude who recorded some sweet songs at home alone. He has had almost no time to gather a band to do justice to his recordings, so he paired down to what he could manage. It still sounds fun. And maybe he doesn't deserve the praise or the attention, but he's not exactly reveling in it. He's not demanding it either.

I'm sorry that he doesn't come fully packaged with a fully formed sound and look, ala Vivian Girls, Crystal Stilts, or the Pains of Being a Laboriously Long and Stupid Band Name. I'm sorry he's not posturing well enough. What, did the sunglasses, skate shoes, and vaguely hip hop baseball hat throw you? Here's a clue, he's from California, he skates, and he fucking loves hip hop.

Maybe people just don't want to hear about him anymore. Maybe he is just too pedestrian, too amateur, too much just a fucked up kid. But that's what I like about him. No, I don't want him to stay a fucked up kid, and I'm glad he issued that apology. I hope he gets his shit together and pulls throw this mess. I hope he develops as an artist, continues following his interests, and develops as a live act. But I hope he doesn't feel the need to submit to the wills of critics or anyone else who doesn't give a shit about him or his music.

I know I'm throwing a bunch of shit into this that may not belong. I know I'm defending someone who on the surface probably resembles Asher Roth more than I'm willing to admit. I know, I know, I know...

Just cut the kid some fucking slack, he's not the problem with music today, not by a long shot.

Thanks no No Trivia for this.

Women (Bottom Lounge 3/17/09)

The hitherto mysterious group of Canadians who turned in one of my surprise favorite albums of last year dropped by last night to deliver a show that ranks as one of the best I've seen in a long time. These guys ("four obvious douchebags") tore through their set, delivering their washed out blurry sound with well honed precision and intensity. I expected their carefully crafted aesthetic to suffer in a live setting, but it only benefited. This band is a tight unit. Despite their affable shyness and jokes about being unprofessional, they play like they've been touring their whole lives. "Black Rice" was light and airy, prompting members of the audience to sing along with their eyes closed. "Shaking Hand" was every bit the thrill ride it was on the record, and when the barnstorming breakdown hit, I heard a small chorus of 'wow' and 'yesss' and at least one 'don't stop.'

That breakdown is without a doubt one of the most undeniably awesome moments in music history. But what impresses me about it is not that the band pulled it off (and pulls it off live no sweat), it's that it's only one great moment in a record of many great moments. In their set, Women hit on Sonic Youth style dissonant noise fury, blissful MBV feedback crescendos, intricate rhythmic workouts ala Fugazi, and fragile C86 bedroom pop. And never once did it feel disjointed or scattered. And the new songs sound fucking sweet.

Chicago band Thin Hymns was another sweet surprise. I'm at a moment's loss for words to describe them. Really good? Does that work? Some soaring guitar sounds, some fucking incredible drumming, good harmonies. They played a refreshingly varied set, avoiding the common pitfall of opening acts: all your songs sound the same. Thin Hymns played at a level I did not expect, and they should have had a higher slot on the billing. I'll have to see them again.

Why Does Bradford Cox now sound like Julian Casablancas?

Don't Believe Me?

Deerhunter - New Music - More Music Videos

and

15 albums

For no good reason other than that it's February, and I'll do anything to stay stimulated, here's 15 albums that affected me personally, changed my life, or otherwise will never be forgotten by me. In chronological order...

Unplugged in New York, Nirvana
My dad came over to my mom's house and flipped on MTV and waited until the video for Smells Like Teen Spirit came on. "I love these guys." He would have their albums on tape in constant rotation in his truck. I was sucked in. Only a couple years later, my dad would call me late at night and explain what had happened to Kurt Cobain. This was the first CD I ever owned, and with out a doubt, it is their best. It proved that they were more than just a Pixies rip-off who fell ass backwards into stardom. This is the way I remember Nirvana, and the way I remember Kurt.

Rubber Soul, The Beatles
This is an album of a good band coming into their own. The Beatles where already mega-stars that could have settled on doing Motown and Chuck Berry retreads. Here, they’re getting into Dylan, into English folk, and retooling their hit making capabilities to encompass better, smarter writing and more intricate melodies. But the album is also great for its simplicity, the kind of unbeatably succinct songs like “You Won’t See Me” or “In My Life.” It has a youthful energy that isn’t wild or sullen, but something breezy like later Beach Boys. This album will always remind me of Toronto in the summer.

Is This It, The Strokes
Early in high school, all I listened to was music from the 60's and (embarrassingly) jam bands. But I didn't fit into the neo-hippie culture of the Phish-heads. When I heard the Strokes, a light went on, and I knew I'd found my music. As much as we've all moved past them by now, I realize that the Strokes were the perfect band for a disillusioned young man. They could express the nebulous teen angst and aggression that define those years, but also be really fucking cool, and like way fucking cooler than anything else on my radar other than maybe Beck. But most importantly, they pointed me to much better bands—an alternate history of pop music. I still wish I could sing like Julian Casablancas.

The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground
Album #3, the quiet one. After hearing both of my parents casually dismiss the Strokes as a Velvet's retread, my mom pulled out a tape of this album to prove her point. "What Goes On" certainly showed me what they were talking about. But the album as a whole has so much more, and I think it gets no respect. Lou's voice sounds better here than anywhere else, and the songs are just perfect. This album also sealed the deal, and like the saying goes, I went out and joined a bad.

Slanted and Enchanted, Pavement
I own this album in two formats, yet it will never sound better than the first time I heard it blaring from Andrew Scanlan's ghetto blaster in the Mazda-that-will-never-die-323 on our way to buy a PA system for the band. Oh my god, Pavement. My life would be nothing like it is now without this record. I've never gone very long without listening to it, and I probably won’t, because there are so many memories attached to it. Andrew, Anna, Nell, Ben, sing with me now, “Ice baby, I shot your girlfriend…”

KID A/Amnesiac, Radiohead
The two are inseparable in my mind, and for a while, I actually thought Amnesiac was a better album. I can say very little about either of them that won’t be total babble. I’ve clocked maybe 11,000 hours or something listening to them. They are both better than Ok Computer, no fucking contest. Ok Computer was genius and groundbreaking and what not. But it wore its organic/synthetic beautiful/ugly pop music/art music seams in typical 90’s postmodern fashion, and sounds dated. Hear, the lines aren’t blurred, they’re completely gone. I even like the weird “KID A=first human clone” urban myth because it seems about right. But none of that matters. What matter is that every time I hear the horns come screeching in on National Anthem, I completely lose it.

Echoes, The Rapture
And to follow the greatest records of my life with the most easily forgotten…
Ok, so maybe it’s the Strokes part two in my life, my false introduction to a scene that maybe only existed for four months, maybe completely run by trust fund hipsters, maybe only in the minds of rock critics. Except that it freaks out in a way that is so subversive, so dirty, so sexy, so cool, and yet so stupid… I don’t know. It’s still the soundtrack for a perfect party in my book. It’s sad to realize that the real coked up quasi urbane kids aren’t even close to being this fun.

You Forgot it in People, Broken Social Scene
One of the most authentically romantic records you will ever hear. There are many elements to the band that can totally sidetrack them, like having a rotating lineup that incorporates dozens of musicians, a totally unchecked earnest delivery, heavy handed production, and the post rock breeding frequently leads them past the six minute mark. But when it works, it works extraordinarily well. I could fall in love with anyone within eyeshot when I listen to this.

Girls Can Tell, Spoon
One of the many breakup albums in both Spoon’s career, and in my lists of favorite albums. It’s a simple story about a guy who falls in love with a girl, moves to Chicago, leaves because he’s pursuing a rock career, gets dropped by a major label, and must now confront his failures while being surrounded memories of his youth. It’s also about men’s fashion. It’s also about two over educated, under stimulated kids from some shit hole town and the artistic/romantic obsessions they sometimes shared, sometimes fought endlessly over. It’s about their unkind imaginations. It’s about when you were 19 and still in school waiting on a light on the corner by Sound Exchange.

Daydream Nation, Sonic Youth
I thought about putting Murray Street or even Washing Machine because I thought almost everyone who likes Sonic Youth is going to name this as their favorite. But neither one is as life changing as Daydream Nation. It’s an album that deserves intellectual examination, while also defying it by sheer volume and aggression. If the album was just Teenage Riot on repeat for 45 minutes, it would still be their best.

Spiderland, Slint.
If you’ve really listened to this album the whole way through, and it didn’t in some way stick with you, if you weren’t in some small way compelled to listen to it again sometime soon—but not too soon--because it hasn’t sunk in yet, if you weren't compelled to patiently follow the insistent but subdued guitars to the very bitter but (triumphant? Fucking awesome?) end, then I don’t know what to say to you. For some people its David Lynch movies, for me, it’s this album.

This Night, Destroyer
His darkest, longest, most personal, most romantic album without a doubt. Not his best, but it’s got to be my favorite. Dan Bejar has a knack for pushing real emotion through even the most obtuse lyrics, but the ones here are actually pretty simple, and the imagery is pretty consistent. This album pulled me through a rough period of longing and self loathing. It feels like a breakup album, but one without all the bitterness, spite, and self pity. Sometimes it sounds like a love-letter, so I can’t really say what it’s supposed to be emoting. It is what it is, and it seems to be an artistic statement about that very emotion.

Early Works, Steve Reich
Steve Reich has the incredible ability to make music that is an all encompassing experience, a form of meditation that quiets your thoughts and opens your mind. And he does it without any trappings, without any tricks. His trick is transparent: set something in motion and let it play out to its end. Unlike Cage’s indeterminacy, Reich is purposeful. He’s not only concerned with the processes he puts into action (phasing, canons) but more importantly, the starting points. The nuanced chord he picks for Four Organs, the rhythms he chooses for his phase pieces, and the source of his tape works. This is what makes “Come Out” and “It’s Gonna Rain” more than just an experiment. Listen hard to the disintegration of the fiery sermon in “It’s Gonna Rain part II” and you understand that Reich has a deeply spiritual investment his work. Even though Reich has been an entry point for me into Art Music and experimental composers, I still think of him right alongside Brian Eno, Miles Davis, Sonic Youth, NEU!, Animal Collective, or J Dilla.

Cryptograms/Flourescent Grey, Deerhunter
I feel like I’m always defending this album, always explaining that the long ambient washes are just as important as the ‘songs.’ So many people will never be able to listen to this record without injecting their feelings about Bradford Cox into it. And as lauded and successful as the album and the band are, I still think this album is underrated. But the thing is, it’s a grower. If you don’t let it get under your skin, you’ll never really appreciate it. God knows where, there is a suncooked worn out tape of these records (the two come printed together as a double LP) that I listened to on repeat in a delivery van two summers ago. The hazy afternoons with the sun bleaching everything, a warm breeze coming and going, the skeletons of buildings hanging in the skyline, parking by the lakeshore just to take a break… this album was perfect.

Person Pitch, Panda Bear
I had been against the Animal Collective for a long time. I hated the ‘freak folk’ scene, I was starting to hate New York, and I hated that Animal Collective was being seen as the only ones actually pushing forward into new musical territory, I hated that this was the album of the year. And mostly, I hated good vibes. So the speed at which this album totally turned me around is amazing. The warmth and generosity, the familiarity, the timeless quality, all from an album made by some dude with a sampler. And the dude with the sampler, the guy who had music critics and other musicians frothing at the mouth with adoration, is actually a really nice guy. And the fact that I came way late to the Animal Collective party should be some sort of terrible shame on me forever in the world of music lovers. But no one gives a shit, including me, because this music trumps the fickle internet-bred sycophancy on which most bands live or die.

WTF

It's not that I hate an independent musician for getting driven around New York while chugging Starbucks, picking up her $1000+ guitar, claiming Williamsburg is the best place in the world, impulsively buying recording equipment on credit, being aggressively boring, all to end the day in a prolonged photo shoot at her gorgeous Manhattan apartment with her pack of poodles in an inch of gawdy make-up.
It's that I get the impression that I'm not supposed to hate it.

Young Chicagoans are more than aware of the tired trixie/chad/Northside vs art school brat/scuzzy hipster/Westside dichotomy. But alas, New York has surpassed us uniting the above into an unstoppable late capitalist nightmare. Give me a tie and a blackberry and point me to my middle management job because I'm packing it in. Anyone want to buy some guitars?

feeling gay

Below are four reasons I wouldn't mind making music that people thought was gay.

Two Weeks by Grizzly Bear


I love how tight Grizzly Bear are. I didn't like Yellow House all that much, but I love the Department of Eagles album and the Friend EP. I hope the rest of their new album will be as heartbreaking as this. Ed's voice has really developed.

A Song For Ellie Greenwich


I want my voice to do that, although I think it would hurt, and not really have the desired effect.

Hazel St


I miss dress wearing Bradford, and a little pissed that I missed this performance because I was having brunch. I don't think I've had brunch since.

Strange Powers


I think I might actually like pre 69 Love Songs Stephen Merritt more. Even though it's not as whimsical, I actually think it's less self serious.

I guess Moz should be on the list but Moz wouldn't be gay if he found a female version of himself. And he never really counts anyway. Also, something that doesn't count:



I loved this song, but would always have to turn it off around the family, although I regret not playing it audibly just to see what would happen. But shit, this video is awful. I'm consistently amazed at Broken Social Scene's unflappably earnest stance. When I found out Kevin Drew wasn't gay, I was kind of offended, although I couldn't imagine why or how. This video finally validates that response.