Caught in the Mêlée

There are times when it seems like we're living through an infestation of bands trying so hard to break the surface. I suppose it's always been that way, but with the internet, there is really a sense that every band is "the little band that could," or at least that's what they're hoping. I'm always running across names and sites and am frequently told that I should totally check out (insert name here). It's interesting and a whole lot to keep up with, so when I find something on my own and I instantly develop a liking for it, I'm pretty stinkin' pleased.

A couple friends and I are plotting a double concert weekend of sorts. Honestly I'm on the ignorant side as far as the acts we are seeing and have been digging around to familiarize myself with them. In the process I visited the site of a band called Mêlée...they're actually opening but that's beside the point. These four guys are from Orange County, CA and released Devils & Angels this past April and I'm banging my head on the wall, wondering why I haven't ever heard of them before. They are terrific and I can't get over how much I like their fresh sound which drips of youth. The piano on Built to Last is beautiful. Like I've said before, it's not often that I hear a song and love it on the spot. The lead singer's voice has a Beach Boys quality, like one he could be a Wilson brother. So great! Apparently they've been around since 2004 and only have one prior release, Everyday Behavior. I just keep going back to their site to listen to their audio player again and again. Addictive. Listen to Built to Last, Drive Away, Frequently Baby, Stand Up, and Rhythm of Rain. I put the link under Places to See. They most definitely have the blessing of The Musically Inclined.

The 60s-- Don't Disappear

About half an hour ago I arrived back at my place after attending the coolest "lecture" imaginable. It was on rock music in the 60s. To be perfectly honest and perhaps a bit big-headed, I know a lot about music in the 60s. A whole friggin' lot. For someone who wasn't actually alive back then, I've amassed a great database of information from actually listening to my dad when he talks. It's a point of pride with me, I was raised on the stuff, breathing it almost. For the first 13 years of my life I was hell bent on the idea that all music after say, 1975 was crap. Complete, shameless, pathetic, crap. It was only the realization that I was about to start high school that forced me to turn the dial on my radio to top 40. Every back story, every detail, every tiny morsel of rock history was and is so important to me. I want to know it all and preserve it because I'm worried about what will happen in twenty or thirty years. Already radio stations that played late 50s to late 60s music have dropped the format in favor of music from the 70s. Where will the Lovin' Spoonful go? How will kids in the future know who they are if their parents (my generation)were only vaguely aware of them and their golden-hued music? It scares me. Hopefully Jimi Hendrix will never be lost or The Beatles...but what about The Kinks? What about Barry McGuire?

The speaker said at the end that everything that happened during that decade was the very reason why music was so phenomennal. I guess I agree. I always thought that some portal to the music gods opened up when the stars had aligned just right. It opened up, but then it closed and I don't think we'll ever see anything like the 60s again. Everything now is derivative. That's not to say that no music can ever be good again, but it's just not the same. Listening to clips from various songs, any number of them have the power to reach out and pull you out of your seat while firmly grasping your beating heart. And those are just the opening notes. It's incomparable power. I couldn't even just isolate one because it would just not be fair, but do think of the very opening of Like a Rolling Stone by Bob Dylan. Yes, I know it's an obvious pick, but does that mean it doesn't send shiver up my spine if I haven't heard it in a while? What about The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel? Think about when the drums and other instruments kick in. For me it doesn't really happen like that too often with modern music.

At the same time I don't want to get down on what's out today. For most of my pre-teen years, I had the distinct feeling that I had been born in the wrong decade. That's really not the way to look at things. There should be no comparing between eras. No likening between bands. I like the Beatles. I like the Killers. I will never have them compete against each other because there is no available conversion scale. They are not "like" each other. One is not "the next" anything. They belong to different pantheons. There is no one to compare to Grace Slick. Pete Townsend is unto himself, only to share sentence space with the likes of Eric Clapton and such. That's just all there is to it. It should be illegal to make references otherwise.


I say, we've got to do something. Bulk up on your music history knowledge. Don't let it die. Love it, don't let it slip away into the abyss of "who are they?" We hardly know anything about our own grandparents' music. Glen Miller anyone? Don't let it spiral on when the Baby Boomer generation starts trailing off. We'll never really fully appreciate what we're doing right now if we've got no context.

Peace

Putting Out the Arcade Fire

As many of my friends have probably realized, a lot of entries on this blog stem from snippets of conversations that were often times, far too short yet thought-provoking. Thanks guys. The most recent exchange that got the wheels turning had to do with Arcade Fire, a band which has been creeping up on me for about a year. The first time I heard them, I was with a group of people and someone wanted to put on some music. The only CD anyone had was Arcade Fire. I suppose that most of the rest of us crinkled our noses thinking, "who are they?" Since then I've seen them around, popping up from time to time. I was even on their myspace page not too long ago. It seems like they have the benefit of hype and indie approval. I'll take this opportunity to shamelessly reference my own entry on The National, I'm still not into bestowing blessings, especially when I can't figure out the appeal.
I'm crazy, right? After all these guys have David Bowie to thank for label introductions (or so I've heard). Their star is rising, for Pete's sake. Nah. I'm not a big fan though I've tried. It doesn't really matter, I've heard cuts off both Funeral and Neon Bible and to me it rambles; a vast musical landscape with no known cartography. It's not even that their sound is all that bad, but the meandering just kills me. I hear vocals and whimsical accompaniment, but in my mind it never quite takes shape. For a while I wondered if it would grow on me. No, I think I'm past that point. Rockafeller Skank rambles too...but it's fun. Other songs can be so traditional that they're painfully boring and predictable. I'm looking for a middle ground, like The National. Maybe I'll just be content with them. What can I say? You can't like what you don't like, all you can do love what you do.

The Silver Lining of Rilo Kiley

I love happy accidents. The other day I was scouring the web, as usual, for new music to keep my baby...I mean my blog going. No one likes months to pass between postings. Well, one particular web site claiming to be the last word on new releases made a little boo boo and listed Rilo Kiley's Under the Blacklight. It actually came out in August, but I won't criticize because it lead me to the Rilo Kiley myspace where I had the fortune of listening to Silver Lining, the first cut on the album. Honestly, I have not kept up with the L.A. group; they've just been part of that background buzz of bands to check into sometime. Perhaps my local radio station of choice has played them before, but I can't make any certain statements. All I know is this song was extremely appealing to me. On some level it recalled the sleek vibe of Dido, but I liked it better. It sounded cool and deliberate without sounding like it had a four-inch layer of shellac over it. There's definitely a feel of the nightlife.

It just goes to show, though that all it really takes sometimes is exposure to one good song. Now that I've heard Silver Lining, I really want to do some more investigating and if all goes well, pick up the CD wen I get a chance. From what I can tell from the other two songs featured on their Standalone Player, the rest of the album should share that subtly sophisticated sound. Stay tuned, a more lengthy review might turn up sometime. Here's to happy accidents.

Finally Got My Hands On...

It's been a long time coming. Last week I picked up Boys and Girls of America by The Hold Steady. I have to admit it was exciting to finally be in the check out line with this album whose shrink wrap is anointed with critical blessings from so many credible sources. How could so many be anything but dead-on?

Previously the only tracks I'd heard were "Massive Nights" and an acoustic version of "Stuck Between Stations" which I thought were absolutely great-- lyrically adroit and most of all fun. At it's best, Boys and Girls of America is upbeat and spunky plus a dash of cerebral for brilliant lines like "he was drunk and exhausted but he was critcally acclaimed and respected," plus you can't go wrong making Kerouac references. Very rarely is it possible to take the music out of the equation and be left with literary pieces instead of a song. Craig Finn writes densely with so many allusions that it's not nearly enough to just listen intently. "He's Tennyson in denim and sheepskin." I could live off lyrics like those. It reminds me of "Desolation Row" by Bob Dylan except it's obvious that Finn was not trying to be a cheap Dylan wannabe and is at heart a storyteller.


So about the rest of the album...it's a tough call. At first I was disappointed because none of the songs seemed to jump the way the other two did and there's regrettable repetition of phrases like "clicks and hisses," and "pipe made from a Pringles can." It felt like the song Marty Robins wrote so many years after "El Paso," adequately named "El Paso City," which was literally a retelling of the former but this time he was suggesting that he'd been the hero of the song in another life. Dude! I can hear the neurons frying! In this case, sharp gives way to boozy and drug-addled, resulting in the feeling that the chance for excellence was squandered.

If there is one song I really and truly hate, it's "Chillout Tent." The female vocalist grates on me like nothing ever has before. I would just remove that cut from the album all together. It's like Bonnaroo the musical. Honestly, the news coverage is enough for me. 

On the flip side, there are good things about this album. The overall sound is authentic, accessible, riff-ladden rock which doesn't take itself too seriously but is so legitimate. While not being stripped down, The Hold Steady keeps it relatively simple, avoiding getting glossy or overproduced.

The picture painted is of those lovely people we all know who are supreme underachievers. They're having a great time coasting through life and we are ever so fond of them. As for buying the CD, in the end I'm glad I did. It's worth having in the collection for the gems like "Chips Ahoy" and "Southtown Girls" which serve as incentives to play it again. So, if for some reason you don't have it yet, it is worth consideration...or impulse. Just Skip over "Chillout Tent."

Best Buy is "The Man"

Before anyone out there goes, "yeah, you're totally right, I love those guys!" hold up a second. I mean "the man" as in that soul-sucking, dream-crushing, homogenizing, corporate hulk. They've been around a while now, and it absolutely drives me out of my mind how I feel I get cornered into going into that store at all. Until a few years ago, my record place was Tower Records. Admittedly at one time they too were kind of "the man" but they really managed to shake that image, in my mind and I enjoyed walking into the old store that not only reeked of incense and general funk, but of sheer credibility. Their catalogue was deep and no one ever asked if I needed help. In fact, the staff usually looked like they would eat you if you distracted them from the sketch of the tattoo they were drawing. That was fine with me, I know my way around a record store and half the time I'd be there for the sake of being there, not because I was on I mission to get in and out with a CD. Hours would fall away like loose shingles during a tornado.

Can't do that at Best Buy. It's an instant assault on the senses, obnoxious blue and a blasting mix of movies, music videos, and Muzak from speakers bigger than me. It's hectic and it takes only seconds before some frat-looking guy in a polo (read: this means he's all laid back and cool) asks if there's something he can help me find. "I'm in the CD aisle, right?" "Right." "Then I think I'll be able to use the handy-dandy alphabetized racks to find what I want. Thanks." Honestly, it really kills browsing for someone like me who likes to get absorbed in the cover art and is completely incredulous that anyone is talking to me while I'm perusing. I remember being in a Best Buy with my dad when I was about sixteen and of course getting approached. I was super flat and maybe a bit rude as I continued on up the aisle. He then told my dad about this great option for indecisive (no doubt) teenage girls like me who don't know what they want. They'll burn a CD of whatever songs I pick. I was pretty pissed. "Oh, really? You have iTunes and a CD burner too? What are the odds." I'm just asking to be left alone here. In most cases though, I try not to hold it against the employees personally, it's the company culture...but that doesn't make it any less offensive and annoying. They're cogs in the slaughter machine that killed my baby (and I know I'm not the only one who lost a record shop).


I'm particularly bothered today because I was just forced into making a purchase there. Unfortunately I'm out of driving distance from my legitimate alternatives. Where does that leave a person land-locked by suburbia? Walmart...which has about one aisle of current Top 40 crap at not so "Walmart prices." Target is okay, but still, their catalogue is only slightly deeper than Walmart. Not much indie stuff or local artists. Try getting your tiny little band into a Target or Walmart. (Oh Tower, I'm still crying over you). Hopefully there might be some place in the mall, but nothing is guaranteed. The most perfect illustration of this mess occurred when I was trying to find Sufjan Steven's Greetings from Michigan. Walmart didn't have a single copy, Tower had an entire shelf. It's the Starbucks syndrome. Unless I'm in a more urban locale, where else can I get coffee? Can anyone get coffee? It's not even a price issue anymore because it's all ridiculously expensive, but as a matter of principle I'd rather not go if I'm not backed into that corner. I don't want to be part of driving the "little guy" over the edge and out of business. The irony is that with the record industry in the state it's in, those plummeting record sales are going to catch up with giants like Best Buy eventually. It might take longer but it's coming. Their saving grace is that music isn't their only trick. Maybe Tower would still be around if they sold washing machines. Good grief. I need a nap.

Happy Labor Day.