Posts Tagged ‘music review’
Hearts on Fire
I wrote an email to Scott Plagenhoef, editor at Pitchfork, after reading his blurb citing “In Ghost Colours” as the 4th best album of 2008. Here’s what he wrote:
There was a surprisingly feast-or-famine reaction this year to Cut Copy’s In Ghost Colours, an album that on one hand should be a go-to indie dance/pop/rhythm release (see “Hearts on Fire”, “Lights and Music”) and on the other is actually closer in spirit to a flat-out gorgeous and uplifting pop record (”Out There on the Ice”, “So Haunted”, and “Unforgettable Season”). Our reviewer Mark Pytlik simply yet accurately called In Ghost “a hard record not to love,” yet it also had the sense all year of an LP bubbling just under the surface.
After reading that blurb, I went home to the apartment and put the album on the stereo. I’ve owned it for months but hadn’t actually sat down and really given it a full listen. Scott’s comments seem totally accurate to me in that light. I knew I liked the music but I didn’t realize to what extent.
My friend said “I liked ‘In Ghost Colours’ got my toes tappin but not my booty shakin.” And I responded that it was probably too sad to be a booty shakin kind of thing but perhaps it’s a “toe tappin’ heart hurtin’” kind of deal.
Take a listen. “Hearts on Fire” is this sad beautiful pulsing throbbing late night kind of electro-groove that seems to take you back to your childhood even when it doesn’t.
Tags: music review
Things I’m listening to right now
Over the past few nights as I’ve lain in bed, writing in my journal before switching off the light, I’ve had the speakers set against the window and I’ve been listening to the music. Nothing groundbreaking.
Right now, I’m listening to Beulah’s The Coast Is Never Clear.
Last night, I was listening to Sufjan Stevens’ Illinois.
The previous night I was admiring the guitar stylings of Elliott Smith on Either/Or. What a great record that is. I really enjoy the way his guitar playing is part of the song structure. Not sure if that makes sense. But he doesn’t play a lead per se. The twists of his acoustic guitar are the chord progression and the melody at the same time. It’s a shame that he’s gone.
Sunday night I was listening to Drum’s Not Dead by Liars. Just like Princeton could use a guy like Joel, the world could use a band like Liars. Everything sounds underground. Everything sounds like its from another planet. But they still have a very real soul. Alebit a strange one. But a real one nonetheless.
Also I picked up Ryan Adams’ Jacksonville City Nights which is supposed to be the best record of the glut that he released last year.
And I picked up the new Walkmen, You and Me. They sound like Basement Tapes-era Dylan. I enjoy the grating howl of Hamilton Leithauser. They are some six degrees of separation or something away from some scenes I’ve briefly been a part of.
Also, I put I’ve been wearing out my vinyl copy of Jim Carroll’s Catholic Boy. A time capsule. All the people who died. Well they’re all my friends. And they died. New York. Punk. You know what I mean? I once gave Jim a ride to Virginia Beach to read in a poetry festival but that’s a story for another time. He’s a good man.
Also, I really think the new Kanye single ‘Love Lockdown’ is brilliant. I realize he’s using some tired sounds but, like fashion, he’s making the old new. It works for me. I like those Brazilian drum sounds. They are groovy.
Tags: music review
Lou Reed, David Bowie, Mick Ronson
In the car in Detroit we were listening to Transformer. It’s part of music, part of the experience that sometimes an album or a song catches you off-guard. Something you’ve heard before but never really heard. Or maybe it’s just been awhile.
I have the expanded edition CD that has early demos of Lou playing ‘Hangin Round’ and ‘Perfect Day’ on his acoustic. You can hear the foundation of what would later become more embodied songs with flesh, hair and makeup strapped across the chord changes’ rib cage and beating heart.
This is one of Bowie’s first producing efforts (for someone other than himself at least) and he partners with his longtime collaborator, prodigal genius and arranger Mick Ronson to create a musical space at once utterly familiar and totally unique. Something about the era (and Lou himself) allows a musical palette that might seem cloying or kitsch on another artist. It’s a beautiful costume, at times feminine. But always retaining Lou’s own masculinity strong and sly. Through the vocal delivery and romantic lyrics, the seedy underbelly of 1970’s downtown is captured lovingly, and with a hint of nostalgia.
It’s almost jazz.
Tags: classic rock, lou reed, music review
