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Required Quarterly Destroyer Love

"Even on bad days, you know you can’t feel that much worse than Dan Bejar typically does. Sometimes his guitar solos sound exactly like your soul crying out: full of pathos, longing, frustration, and a touch of mania, they whine and flail, but eventually relent back into the fold of the melody, momentarily satiated.” 

--Anna P (Daftpop)

   Don’t mean to over-quote this site’s internet BFF but this is exactly what’s so endearing about Bejar’s work.  Some critics are quick to point out that Dan’s serpentine lyrics and reoccurring characters don’t yield much insight over repeated listens.  Some people think he’s full of shit and maybe every once in a while he is.  But the man is a self proclaimed maximalist and he’s more of a performer than he’s given credit for.  His ability to inject real emotion into his baroque styling is by far his greatest talent.  They call it “moments of unexpected sweetness” in the Destroyer Drinking Game, and although it’s not his most reoccurring trope, it’s the one I’ll drink most heartily to.  Example:

Cause when a breeze is blowing,
it’s just Crystal Country showing us
that everything must break to be beautiful
and, honey, that’s what I meant when I called and said -
“This is fucked”…

   If you’ve heard the man deliver this line, you know what I’m talking about.  This is why I stand by This Night so firmly, it’s his most overtly romantic album and while possibly being his most guarded and cryptic work.  And even if This Night isn’t your favorite, you’re still not really a true Destroyer fan unless you can name a moment where you were unexpectedly hit right in the gut by one of his songs.  It’s why his fans will listen to the 12 minutes of “ambient disco” and the intentionally clunky opening passages of Bay of Pigs.  It’s because you know there’s gonna be a payoff at some point.  For me, it’s when the handclaps come in and “You were on the side of good” and suddenly you go from doing the awkward shoulders only dance to full on getting down in your living room.  Alone.

And you say something like “Fuck you Dan Bejar, fuck you indeed.”  And some how, I think that’s exactly what you wants me to say.


reblogged from http://hypocritelistener.tumblr.com/

A New Home (Possibly)

Hey peeps,
I'm testing out a move from blogger to tumblr.  Tumblr has a lot of things going for it including a more flexible interface and most importantly, the ability to upload tracks without using a 3rd party site.  My hope is that I can get more music and other non-rant posts out more quickly and open this thing up a bit.
I've had no probs with blogger and I'm going to keep the blogspot running for now.  Maybe we can have an open relationship.  Let's hope.  Here's the new girl:

hypocritelistener.tumblr.com

Right now it's just the old posts but soon there will be more content than you ever hoped for or even wanted.  Stay tuned.
-Nigel

Valentine's Day Mix

First, some more Spoon rumination via Cokemachineglow:

http://www.cokemachineglow.com/record_review/5118/spoon-transferenceCP-2010

I really love that CMG does counterpoint articles, especially when it's about an artist I really love like Destroyer or Spoon.  Alan and Calum make some good points here, but I still think Spoon have their heads up their asses.  But for sure, I'm glad the album is something different (even though that difference highlights what is still unfortunately very much the same).  And also, I don't know Britt (I did meet him once after a show, he was a perfect gentleman) so I'll back off a bit with the personal for now.  Also, sorry for the John Mayer rant, it won't happen again.

Oh, and a mix!

I got Chicago's finest sons The Clams here with an AMAZING new song, some Beach House, my favorite Sea and Cake track and some other songs for a lonely Valentine's Day.  Or maybe even a romantic Valentine's Day, or maybe just for killing time while you're on the internet.  Much luv...

 Hypocrite Valentine  by  nigelharsch

Closer to the Clams-The Clams
Silver Soul-Beach House
Parasol-The Sea and Cake
We Could Walk Together-The Clientele
The Letter-The Box Tops
Sun Was High (So Was I)-Best Coast
Oh How I Miss You-Broadcast
Type Slowly-Pavement
September Gurls-Big Star
Little Dreamer-Future Islands

A Quick Thought on John Mayer's Dumb Ass

If you haven't heard yet, Mr. "Your Body is a Wonderland" Mayer recently drank a little too much scotch and got "raw" in a recent Playboy interview.  He said some pretty inane shit like "my dick is kind of a white supremacist," claimed he had something called a "hood pass," referred to Jessica Simpson's body as both a drug and then later called her "sexual napalm" which makes me wonder whether or not Mayer knows that napalm isn't a drug.  Anyway, I could go on but you've probably heard enough and if you haven't just google it, "John Mayer is a huge douche" is still one of the hottest search terms.
Um, so yeah.  John Mayer is maybe a racist, almost definitely a misogynist, and for sure is a fucking moron.  But that doesn't really surprise me.  The man has a Stevie Ray Vaughan tattoo and makes sincere adult contemporary songs about just wanting to get stoned.  This guy obviously lives in a postmodern nightmare where things signify nothing and fessing up to your insecurities while cavalierly admitting your own self absorption is what passes for authentic (thanks Kanye!).  But for me, what's most interesting is a small moment when he talked about Jennifer Aniston disagreeing with him about his Twitter use.  Mayer wrote her off as being stuck in the past, not willing to realize that the rules of the fame game have changed.  And for once in my life, I actually felt bad for Aniston.  After enduring an all too messy and public divorce she has this douchebag telling her she doesn't share her personal life enough with the public.  I can hear him now, "Sorry babe, you gotta get with the program.  You got fight for their hearts and minds you know, gotta keep people interested.  Hey, how bout I tell them about how I like fucking airheads and getting stoned, and you can pout about your divorce.  They'll eat that shit up."  Hell, I might even be more sympathetic if that was the case, but I honestly think there isn't really a divide between Mayer's public and private life.
Well, you live by the sword, you die by the sword.  I know, douchebags are going to think he's gutsy for being so "real" and I'm sure there are enough female fans out there who secretly believe they could change him.  But at least we have some hard and fast evidence that this guy really is a total ass.

Effusive Praise for Beach House

"I'm going to warn everyone right now, I'm not going to shut up about this band"
    If there is one reason that music is always near the top of my list of priorities, it's because of the specific intangible feeling I get when I first fall in love with an album.  I say album here because as much as falling for a song is worthwhile and even at times transcendent, there is nothing on this earth like falling hard for a set of songs and listening to them ad nauseam just to extract (strangle) every bit of excitement out of it.  It's comparable to every rotten cliche about falling in love I know, and though it falls short of the excitement of a new relationship, falling in love with an album is rarely a regrettable decision. 
    Let it be said that I have unequivocally fallen like, deeply in love with Teen Dream.  From the first morning I listened to it on a blustery train ride to work to just the other night when Victoria Legrand sang me to a deep and satisfying sleep, it's been hard to tear myself away from these songs.  This isn't like falling for the cute girl in the sweater sitting alone at the cafe, this is like meeting someone you feel like you've always known and feeling a little scared about how comfortable you feel around them.  This is talking about the meaning of life at 4am while trying to fight back sleep so you can watch the sun come up.  This is looking back at the loves in your life and still not having all of the answers, still not being able to draw simple conclusions from them.  Why am I telling you this?  Because I have a hunch that if you're not into falling in love, you're probably not gonna be too into this album.  And that's kind of a damned shame.
    Let me make this clear before I continue to blush, Teen Dream is coherent, it's chalk full of surprising melodies as well as deft and tasteful instrumentation.  It builds off the strengths of their previous work while striking out into new territory.  The critics agree, this is a good album.  It isn't a reinvention of the form, it isn't going to contain too many sounds you've never heard, and I really don't think anyone's going to laud the complexity or virtuosity of the band (with exception to Legrand's golden set of pipes).  CMG even went so far as to call the instrumentation "staggeringly uninventive" in an otherwise positive review.  And there's nothing much resembling an extra-textual/conceptual/meta gesture anywhere on the album, so let's agree that it's sincere, that what you're hearing can be judged prima facie.  Now, I think this is interesting.  A band who's work is not just more interesting than the halo of discussion surrounding it, but a band that is almost devoid of the kind of baggage that initiates the rite of instant backlash.  I can't imagine being embarrassed about my love for this record in say three weeks when they have a meltdown in Spain.  The band has proven it's worth quietly for years now.  Sure, there's always the chance for hipster hatred, though Baltimorons don't seem to suffer the same ire as their Brooklyn counterparts.  And there will be those who dismiss anything this pretty as trite, but they're not really worth arguing with.  So what we have here is a rare record that stands to be judged without the noise of hip politics or the tiresome cockfights of who's more avant-garde.  Hopefully. 
    So for me, the only question left for to ask is this: are you or aren't you in love with this album?  If not, whatever, we'll talk later.  I'm not going to waste time trying to convince you.  This isn't like my love for Women or The Dirty Projectors where I feel like I'm defending my favorite sports team, always discussing the finer details of what makes them unarguably great.  This time I just feel bad if you can't get with this.
    And for now, why not leave it there?  You can be sure this band is going to pop up on this site in the future and be forewarned not to mention this album around me if you don't have some serious free time on your hands.  But please, give this a serious listen.  I don't think you'll regret it.

Spoon get's iffy, Nigel get's pissed.

I wanted to avoid saying it, but this new Spoon album kinda sucks.  And by kinda, I mean that at best, this record is half empty.  We could focus on the half that's full, but the highlights on this record are not that surprising and often only serve to remind us the band still has a pulse.  Fortunately, my feelings on the album have been articulated elsewhere by a better writer.  Here's a gem from that review:

Alan wants to call this “the agony of Britt” and I see entering the field of discussion how many points we should give the record for being a break-up album, as if the world doesn’t have enough of those. For one, it’s difficult to avoid letting rumors of Britt’s mackscapades taint one’s perception of the theme here (CMG’s got friends you never called back, Britt [or just creeped out]) but move away from slander and Transference becomes even less interesting and/or affecting. Here the break-up aftermath leaves Britt full of uncertainty in the most obvious and uncompelling way possible: track titles/themes that are questions and songs that consist of series of negating or circular statements. “Written in Reverse” is half Cobainisms, for crying out loud.

The rest of the review focuses more clearly on the technical/musical shortcomings, but the above passage hit a special nerve.  I admit, I'm more aware of the gossip surrounding Britt's personal life than normal fandom should allow.  I'm not going to defend this, but I will point out I'm not the only Spoon fan who's heard some disappointing shit about Mr. Daniels and his ways with young female fans.  And let's be fair, he's written pretty openly about his personal life since getting dropped by Elektra.  Hardcore Spoon fans have stuck with this band for over a decade, from critic's darlings to indie stars to  just plain rockstars, kept on board by a faith in their talents.  And so, unfair as it may be, when I hear those stories (and there are plenty) about Britt's sleazy dbag antics, I become increasingly unforgiving of their misteps, especially when those misteps involve chinzy romance and well worn real emotional trash ("Goodnight Laura").  It makes me wonder about all those dudebros and jail-baiting indie-teen girls that make up a Spoon show these days, and whether or not I still want to be carrying a torch for these guys.

If Spoon fans have one go-to defense for their less than perfect frontman, it's that Britt is A) incredibly talented and B) has always been kind of a rock star in his own mind.  Let there be no doubt that Britt is still very talented.  Proof of this fact can be found on "Who Makes Your Money."  As far as lyrics go, they're obtuse bordering on totally hollow but actually used to great effect, which is to say it's vintage Spoon.  It's what I wish more of the album was, obtuse, vague, and above all, little self deprecating.  Instead, we get empty promises, "hang ups and pain," vocal strangulations and posturing.  The cold hard truth is that this album is full of underdeveloped and/or overcooked efforts dressed up as "experimental Spoon" songs that mostly just remind me of how much better Spoon used to be.  And to top it off, we have some of Britt'smost egregious lyrics since the band's debut.  And what are all these songs about?  Britt's love problems.

On that note, I do think the album is brilliantly titled.  It's a perfect forewarning for the unwanted and half stated emotions that litter the album.  Conceptually, it does work and if you're into examining albums as art objects more than enjoying them, this may be your favorite Spoon album by far.  If wikipedia is right, and transference is the psychological phenomena of projecting emotions from past relationships unto someone else (commonly the psychotherapist), then Britt is more self aware than I give him credit.  The ghost of Spoon's past lingers heavily on this record, and no, not often in a good way.  There are too many reasons Spoon shouldn't renege it's past.  They already sound so much like themselves in everything they do as it is and they've already released strong material that's taken stock of their previous successes.  But the biggest reason Britt shouldn't rehash his old songs or his old loves is that he's already released to many goddamned breakup albums as it is, and at this point he's run out of anything worthwhile to say.  In fact, I wonder if Britt's hasn't regressed emotionally since Love Ways and Girls Can Tell. 

Am I being fair?  As a critic, probably not.  But as a fan, I gotta be concerned as to where this guy's at these days.  The man showed so much promise for so many years that I get kinda sick thinking about Britt settling for rockstar cliches or love-is-a-battlefield sentiment.  I still expect great things from this guy, but I think he needs to push himself further both musically and emotionally in order to articulate anything past his own malaise.  Granted, in the past his malaise has served his career well.  But songs like "Small Stakes," "Anything You Want," or "The Way We Get By" were resonant because they expressed the longing and self doubt of your everyman, the Underdog.  These days the dude's making love in backseats of cars with a stream of available groupies and I'm still supposed to care?

There are other some nit-picky complaints as well, like where the hell is Jim Eno on this?  I know, he's behind the mixing board and yeah, his strengths as a producer still shine.  But Jim has fallen asleep on two of his sacred duties: coming up with good drum parts and keeping Britt in check.  Major douchebag Eric Harvey is still in the band (no, I've met him, he's a douche), the production is often lo-fi when it should be crystal clear and vice-versa, and the soundscape is way too cluttered.  I should pat these guys on the back for stretching themselves and not just phoning an album in (actually, some parts do literally sound like they were recorded via cell phone, so maybe the boys are being really self aware here) but I expect more next time.  My advice, ditch your keyboard player, go some place where people don't think you're the shit and if you find the time, grow the fuck up man.

ADDENDUM:

I would feel bad if I never admitted there are some pretty strong points on this album.  I got to thinking whether or not the band actually had a decent EP/Maxi Single marred by the filler surrounding it.  Now, as much as I'm willing to be hard on Spoon (because I really love so much of their work that's not Transference), I hesitate to cavalierly chop up someone else's artistic statement.  But if you want to be perfectly honest, the Great New Spoon EP That Never Was is turning out to be much more rewarding.  So here's the tracklist I settled on:
1  Is Love Forever
2  The Mystery Zone
3  Got Nuffin
4  Who Makes Your Money
Still not a bulletproof release, but with some minor touches I think it would sit well with Soft Effects and Love Ways.  So there, I'm still a Spoon enthusiast.