It's Not The Eat, It's the Humidity - The Eat

What good punk rock sounded like before NOFX and Anti-Flag turned it into an abomination.

BY VINCENT ALBARANO

This time around I'm going with one of my favorite albums: the collected discography of South Florida's The Eat. “What the hell is The Eat?” you're asking. Well, The Eat were one of Florida's earliest punk bands, who managed to inspire a scene of other groups you (and I) don't care about. I'm sure this means nothing, but hey, I started doing these because I didn't want my comments and reviews to just stay in my head where no one would hear them. All that aside, The Eat started out in the late '70s and released their flagship "Communist Radio" b/w "CatholicLove" single in 1979. Their only other release during their lifetime was 1980's God Punishes The Eat EP. Other posthumous releases followed but the band remained unknown (natch). They were first exposed to the brain-dead punk public at large on the third volume of the Killed by Death compilation series, which even took its name and cover from their second EP. Years later, Jello Biafra (there's a name you'll recognize) went archiving and released this two disc compilation of all the band's studio recordings (unreleased tracks everyone!) and a series of live sets on his Alternative Tentacles label. Looks like those damn anarchists can do some things right.

The band got on the punk rock scene early enough that it hadn't yet been codified into a single sound, so a good deal of their songs don't fit the punk rock stereotype. The most prevalent sound here is guitar-based 1950s rock & roll, as demonstrated on "Jimmie B. Goode" (hell, that title gives it away), "Catholic Love," "I Led Two Lives" and a number of others. A few songs play out as pre-hardcore adrenaline rushes ("Nut Cop," "Kneecappin'"). Other tracks were funk-based party anthems ("Nixon's Binoculars," "Mr. Brown") or even weird psychedelic/folk numbers ("Dream of Yogi"). Overall, there's none of the dour posturing and petulant scowling found on most punk records of the era--this isn't meant to spark a revolution, but rather a party. The band was having fun and their audience couldn't help but get suckered into the energy--the live sides on disc two give the best proof of this.

Part of the band's appeal was their lyrics, which showed they really didn't give a damn what was thought of them or their music. The Eat wrote songs about things they enjoyed and these four friends and co-workers weren't about to be codified into a systematic way of playing music. One of the major topics was sports (natch). Another big one was guitarists/singers/brothers Eddie and Michael O'Brien's Catholic upbringing. Politics were a big one, of course, but The Eat were set apart from their punk peers by their way of handling such matters: far from attempting criticism of matters way over their heads (take a note, endless list of punk bands), these guys simply stated what was going on at the time. The songs that don't fit into these categories are about anything else the band wanted to poke fun at or discuss; these include animal abuse, stomping an ex-girlfriend's pets to death, and living like a punk at night but an adult with responsibilities by day.

Since I've had this collection for awhile and like it so much, I'm sure this all comes off more as an appraisal than a review, but why shouldn't it? If cookie-cutter political punk with no time for fun is a dull prospect for you, this album is the perfect counterpoint. Tired of thrash-and-scream bands who think Nervous Breakdown was the musical ground zero? Look no further. No sense of responsibility is needed to apreciate the songs contained within, and all pretention can be left at the door (unlike with this review).

Blood, Sweat and Tears - Ace Hood

I don't get it.

This one's by me, Matt Lovett, this time. This is an interesting one for me to come back with as anyone who knows or is even slightly familiar with me would probably be surprised that I would put time into writing about an album such as Blood, Sweat and Tears (especially so much.) I agree, given my usual indie/garage/punk tastes. Frankly, one song from Ace Hood and one tongueless, half-moan shout of his name would have been the end of my aural relationship with him. However, it is out of a friendly promise (I have a friend who is a HUGE fan of this guy) and an urge to test myself by analyzing and listening to an album I would not usually do that I have reviewed Ace Hood's new record. Now with that said...

Ace Hood's first top 10 record opens with a hook supplied by T-Pain. The hook is catchy and fun, but cheesy with a sarcastic, “oh wow I haven't heard this before” sensibility. In other words, using T-Pain as a feature is worn out and his niche in music seems to have disappeared. To back up T-Pain's role, Ace Hood goes on to explain why he is in fact the “king of the streets.” As Ace Hood goes on about how this is the “realest shit he ever wrote” I can't help but wonder: “what streets is Ace Hood exactly the king of?” Ace Hood's verses are simply empty, egotistical ramblings-- ramblings fueled by disillusionment. For shit's sake, he got T-Pain-- the “I'm on a Boat!” guy.

The second track, “Go N Get It” doesn't have the radio quality of its predecessor but makes up for it with an Ace Hood squeal in its introduction (check out 0:18). It then goes into a bunch of tired, uncreative lines about money and Ace Hood's problems. “Another day, another dollar” and “I'm a God-fearing nigga” are the types of things heard on this track-- reflecting Ace Hood's inconsistency in his verses and his inability to focus on a singular subject. Maybe I just don't get it, but by the end of “Hustle Hard” Ace Hood has probably mentioned his daily troubles and/or getting money/“hustling” more times than it is reasonable to count.

When the third, Yo Gotti-featured track, “Errythang,” came on, Ace Hood as a musician came together to me; he uses the same structure for most (if not all) of his songs, beginning with the hook and then following this structure: hook-verse-hook-verse-hook-etc. Not to mention the fact that “tough”, generally minor-key synthesized beats are a staple on Ace Hood tracks. To top it off, I still don't know what “errythang” means.

Pop-star, dancer and woman beater Chris Brown provides a slight break in Ace Hood's groaned hooks but still is incredibly confusing. What does “body two body [Body 2 Body]” signify? Translation please.

In the next song, Ace Hood has proven to listeners that “memory lane” is no longer an expression used exclusively by middle-aged persons. In addition, his song “Memory Lane” has also proven that one can be excused to a certain degree for judging a book by its cover (I can use cliché metaphors too!!!!) or in this case, a song by its title. I will give credit to Ace Hood in that there's at least a somewhat legitimate message here in this track, as it seems that Ace Hood may have had some real things to say about his past. Nonetheless, Ace Hood relies on low and overused phrases to express that “shit done changed.”

“Letter to My Exs” follows “Memory Lane,” creating a nostalgic back-to-back. As if you couldn't call it from the title, Ace Hood reflects on his past romances: how he thought he was in love once, started realizing “shit,” then had to let her/them go. Ace Hood philosophizes on love in fading out the track-- “fuck love” he concludes before going into the final refrain recitation. I should also mention that he doesn't fail to mention the quality of the “pussy” his exs provided in the hook of the track.

It seems rather contradictory that after a discouraging rant about love Ace Hood follows it up with the closest thing to a love song on the album-- “Beautiful.” Kevin Cossum croons “This one's for you girrrrlll” during the refrain while Ace Hood is flipping out about how attractive the girl he's talking to is in this song. I'm glad Ace Hood got over his cynicism and no longer feels burned by love, but Ace Hood has once again confused me-- did he grow that much between songs? It makes the legitimacy of his songs questionable. Perhaps Ace Hood just pulls most or all of his lines out of his ass even when he raps about things he says that he specifically underwent. Ace Hood appears to be having trouble putting the real him out there to listeners.

A string arrangement and an acoustic guitar intro embellishes the prayer-based next track “Lord Knows,” whereas Ace Hood is regretful of his life's deeds and needy of God's help. Ace Hood's knack for overuse and weak attempts for lyrical depth is still present even in this song, as chanted in the song's refrain: “only Lord knows what the hell that I've been really through.” “Lord Knows” is up there with “another day, another dollar” and “same shit, different day;” these are all exasperated phrases that thwart listener understanding or empathy. This is a defining defect of Ace Hood; his lack of eloquence in his verses hinder any sort of connection he could have with listeners, save those who may appreciate the superficial.

“Bitter World” is the same exact thing as every other track on this album where Ace Hood discusses his life's upsets and downfalls. He really doesn't change anything, save his tacky metaphors. “Spoke to My Momma” is also a similar deal, just with a motherly context. In actuality, the only thing that's different is that Ace Hood starts the song with “Spoke to my momma the other day” then continues to talk about hustling, his dreams and whatever depressing shit he was dealing with on every song prior to this one again.

I can only assume that the “Hustle Hard” remix is last because Lil' Wayne and Rick Ross, probably the most prominent mainstream hip-hop figures on this album, make appearances. They come off as celebrities almost by being on the last track, but their verses are as clunky and forgettable as Ace Hood's and quite lazily use many words from the song's refrain for their parts.

Ace Hood's Blood, Sweat and Tears is as sad as the entities that entitle the record. Ace Hood will need to develop his flow, consistency and creativity in order to produce a LP that can even be close to solid. Until then, I remain unimpressed and flustered with the repetitious middle-school level figurative language stuck in my head.

Arabia Mountain - The Black Lips

Even with several albums under their belt, the Black Lips continue to provide listeners with an honest rock & roll sound.

BY VINCENT ALBARANO

This one is my lead contender for album of the year. Maybe the fact that I've only bought three albums that came out this year (one was a reissue) influences that; I happen to like the band also. Either way, this is the one that proves I like some new music. Although the Black Lips (aka the garage band hipsters can like) have noticeably toned down their stage act after ten years together, they still can pack more wallop than any twig-boy indie rock band-- no shoegazing here, thank you. This one seems to be especially notable because most of the tracks were produced by Mark Ronson. I have no fucking idea who Mark Ronson is, other than the fact that he appears to be some sort of hipster celebrity. In the end, it really doesn't matter: the album sounds fine.

On the subject of sound it goes without saying that this album is much cleaner than the group's first three albums, which took cues from the most psychotic, backwoods rave-ups on the Backfrom the Grave comps. Their whole sound has been more polished since signing to Vice a few years ago, but I've been told that songs are more memorable when they aren't buried under layers of fuzz and reverb. The three singles that preceded the album set the work's tone perfectly: "Go Out and Get It" shows the band can blast straight-up rock & roll; "Modern Art" is a garage/psych number that recalls much of their earlier work (debauched lyrics inact); "New Direction" continues in the first single's style (piss off, I couldn't think of anything else). The album also delves into psychedelic work-outs that manage to hold my attention because they aren't nine minute suites with bullshit ethereal solos and meaningless lyrics praised as profound thoughts just because the words sound good together. This is best seen on the album closer "You Keep on Running," which at times recalls the darkest, most paranoid drugged-out moments of Sly & the Family Stone's There's a Riot Goin' On (this wouldn't be a music review if I didn't compare it to a classic, acclaimed album). Other songs touch on country ("Time"), piano-pounding '50s rock & roll ("Dumpster Dive"), and frat rock freakouts ("Mad Dog"). My top pick goes to the sparse, echo-laden "Bone Marrow," which begins with cryptic vocals over a simple drum pattern, and soon adds layers of dueling guitars alternating surf rock licks and garagey chords.

Overall, Arabia Mountain is one of the Black Lips' stronger efforts in a long career with multiple solid releases. Even if it can't quite match the furious brilliance and perfect balance of old influences and modern innovations found on Let It Bloom, it's still a damn good album. It's reassuring to know the Black Lips haven't lost their garage punk edge, even while expanding their musical palate, proving they're leagues ahead of the Sonics-centric groups that seem to populate the genre. If I haven't been clear up to this point (and even I question my abilities), let me put it to you this way: What other album this year has delivered passionate, true-to-form rock & roll?*

*Davila 666, I'll get to you soon.

Some People Deserve to Suffer - Stick Men with Ray Guns

Vincent Albarano, a new and occasional Warchild contributor, disussses one of his favorite punk records while revelaing his distaste for black metal and irriation with hipsters.

This one's been out for a few years now, so this is gonna be in retrospect. Since you clearly haven't heard about this band (unless you have read the Pitchfork review-- that was great, wasn't it?), here's the basics: Stick Men with Ray Guns were a hardcore band from Dallas in the '80s. They were infamous for the antics of their frontman, Bobby Soxx, who looked like Buddy Holly on speed, and would assault, piss on, and antagonize his fans and both his bandmates and others on the bill. They only released a few cuts on compilations during their heyday (Bobby had the 1980 "Learn to Hate in the 80s" backed with the "Scavenger of Death" single with Teenage Queers), so this 2002   retrospective is made up of those few studio cuts and a number of live songs.

First off: even though most of the songs are live, the sound quality is pretty good, considering the shit-fi standards most other hardcore live releases have when unleashed after thirty years. Granted, it would still have any audiophile scoffing, but fuck those uptight pricks.

Second: Stick Men with Ray Guns may have been part of the hardcore scene in the'80s, but they didn't offer any one-two thrash and bash; they were much closer to Flipper in sound, with loud, noisy, droning numbers. The guitar screeches and snarls; the bass rumbles; the drums mostly thump out a sort of tribal thud that serves the songs' rhythms perfectly. Bobby's vocal range is surprisingly wide: he can go from a low growl to a shrill whine, or even a gruff bark. I may have said wide range, but this is in a punk context, people. All these elements were key to the band's sound: a post-hardcore/proto-noise rock conglomeration of scathing noise competing with the rhythm section's brutal low-end thud. The sound is harsh and blistering, even on the studio numbers, but it only seems to add to the band's nihilistic qualities.

The perfect complement to such a harsh, uncompromising sound was Bobby's lyrics, which ran the gamut of punk rock's favorite topics. His main targets were Christianity, such as in the classic "Christian Rat Attack", which was given extra hipster cred when Thurston Moore and Richard Hell covered it later (see, I'm working with you people). Others took on Hardcore's raison d'etre: Ronald Reagan ("Nazi Cowboys (on Welfare)"). Some choose to focus on juvenile subjects ("Pee Pee in the Disco Mommy (I Gotta)"). The best lyrics are those that focus on the blackest corners of misanthropy possible. These include the blistering "Kill the Innocent" and a re-working of Bobby's "Scavenger of Death", which is transformed from a raging three-chord punker to a massive, crushing wall of noise. Such devotion to nihilism, misanthropy and random violence could quickly draw comparisons to shitty black metal, but let me set it straight: I am not overweight, lonely and depressed, nor do I have acne--heavy metal offers me nothing. Also, Bobby and co. were Texan punks with a bad attitude, not "Viking warriors" who thought burning down churches was cool. Despite some rudimentary themes and elements, their crushing lyrics alone set Stick Men ahead of the punk curve.

For a band in a scene famous for playing bad music really fast, Stick Men came up with some surprising musical variety: there are elements of straight-up Rock & Roll ("Satan Baby"), frantic Rockabilly ("Baby Now!"), and even shuffling Country ("Nazi Cowboys (on Welfare)"). All of this provides solid evidence that the band should be revered more than a number of other hardcore bands, but hey, MDC played faster. Due to the limited availability of Stick Men material, most of the band's reputation rests on stories about Bobby's antics, and that was certainly a great part of their appeal (at least as far as I can tell, I wasn't there; I have no idea what I'm saying. Don't listen to me.) So even with this CD being out of print currently, we now have much easier access to the band's legacy--Soxx stories included. It's worth the effort of tracking down a download link, as this one still hold some shocks and surprises. And those Bobby Soxx stories are worth tracking down too.

Leave Home - The Men

The Men sounds rather sexist to me, but they have arrived with an impeccable record with raw roots.

Nowadays, the world's listeners are pulled to a sound that is mostly synthetic and artificial, straying away from the organic. Instrumentation is favorably created in the tradition of synthpop while the sounds more strongly influenced by an older generation of music are starting to deteriorate. But then there are bands like the Men, who have created a real record with notes that have a meaning and power to them that strikes empathy and a desire to listen many times.

Leave Home's opener, "If You Leave...," is an eery, prolonged tune that maintains a soft ringing for its first minutes. It's bothersome to disturb it; it's best just to sit back and absorb the cushioned feedback and the choppy staccato of the guitar riff that follows. Then the Men flex about three minutes in to bring a face-melting roar of power chords comparable to Sebadoh III's heavier tracks. The transition is mildly cliché, but nonetheless it's sonically attractive-- at this point the energy you absorbed during the song's introduction is now being exerted freely.

“Lotus” and “Think” follow, abandoning long introductions. These songs are rock to their core. “Think” in particular has a touch of something even heavier, whereas in the song's middle it becomes increasingly disorienting with a touch of horn-like vocals that could probably even double as a means of soloing as well. “Think,” with its clear elements of thrash metal, is easily representative of where hardcore stands today.

Things get a tad more peculiar, and less straightforward. “L.A.D.O.C.H.” stands almost as a drum-and-bass tune that just happens to have guitar-- and it is absolutely irritating. In its lagging and squeals it somehow grapples the ears with curiosity, making a listener investigate the source of the musical and lyrical instability of the track. In other words, it truly pulls you in. The lyrics that can be caught are uh, intriguing: “The bringer of everything, nothing is here to stay” is screamed in various forms, sometimes followed by pure vocal honesty in the forms of a cough and/or a gasp for air. “L.A.D.O.C.H.” is merely a break in the album's mostly fast-paced nature, as “( )” and my personal favorite “Bataille” pound through afterwards with mimicking, mosh worthy riffs on bass and guitar.

It's interesting that this record is largely instrumental given the mighty emphasis placed on the group's vocals, er, screeches. The instrumental qualities of the record however show the band's dynamic character. Case-in-point-- Leave Home's second-to-last track, “Shittin' With the Shah.” This is an abrupt transition from “Bataille” which comes before as it is much more relaxes, but as the Men chill out on this song they are able to showcase broader influences in their music such as garage and early rock 'n' roll. The Men then come back from the break room, as they did similarly coming back from “L.A.D.O.C.H.,” to finish off Leave Home with “Night Landing,” a static punk rage with a tincture of fitting spacey guitar effect.

On Leave Home, The Men have a record that may be harder than what many ears have been accustomed to in the field of independent rock music, which could be met with some pester for audiences. But nonetheless, the Men's authenticity is worth getting used to. 

Here is the opening track, "If You Leave...", off of Leave Home:

 

Here's my personal favorite song from Leave Home, "Bataille":

 

 

Sound Kapital - Handsome Furs

The songwriting couple Handsome Furs, comprised of Wolf Parade co-frontman Dan Boeckner (alongside Spencer Krug) and wife Alexei Perry have released a new, synth-heavy new wave record that makes one miss Martin Rushent.

Handsome Furs have become the new wave, video game music band of the year with Sound Kapital. In this respect, Handsome Furs have delivered, having stated that the record would have 1980s electronic and industrial influences. They could not have done it better, save perhaps having some tracks that would inspire a restraining order or have gothy, love-lost anthems. Nonetheless, the likes of the Human League and Throbbing Gristle are all over this nine-track couple's album.

Dan Boeckner approaches this record with a door-slamming demeanor, perpetuated by his immediate story on Sound Kapital. “When I Get Back” is a bassy, driven tune of desire, and could easily be a club-bumping tune save the vocal aspect. This song represents a cohesion of lyric and melody in its swiftness as Boeckner sings in a hurry to abandon his current emotional state and “get back home.” New wave lights up the track with synthesized layering to help push this message. The grinding electronica of Sound Kapital continues with “Damage,” a homage to Throbbing Gristle's melodic (yet still disorienting) side (what?).

Boeckner's side project may have created a modern, new wave record. However, it's set apart in its songwriting, which is far more comparable to Wolf Parade than Devo. This is a record of heavy self-release and expression, which goes to show that Boeckner's songwriting has not shifted from his time with Wolf Parade but rather is static. The hooks and chanted choruses are all still here, not to the degree of “This Heart's On Fire,” but nonetheless the energy is ever-present throughout Sound Kapital. There's the opening track, “When I Get Back,” but “Bury Me Standing” and “Memories of the Future” also reflect a musical scream on behalf of Boeckner. A theme of many of these songs is the pursuit of feeling better, and this theme is spelled out in Boeckner's voice and execution of his lyrics.

“What About Us” is a fulfilling dreary alley of a tune. That is to say, breaking someone's heart in the context of this song is on the same stature as murder. It's simplicity is grating, but in that respect it also replicates the same sensibilities of its 1980s counterpart. The Human League's Dare comes to mind when listening to this song. Dare is a fantastic album, however the static quality of lyricism and vocals are more than capable of being irritating. “What About Us” has that same character, perhaps making Handsome Furs some sort of post-synthpop group? Sure.

A common criticism of Handsome Furs, as well as other Wolf Parade frontman Spencer Krug's side projects, is that it's simply not Wolf Parade. Dan Boeckner's work with Handsome Furs is miniscule compared to the Apologies to the Queen Mary. Handsome Furs have lacked that enthusiasm and inspiration; they are riding off the hype surrounding Boeckner. So it seems. However, the song “Repatriated” has changed that thought in me as the gem of Sound Kapital, confirming that Boeckner is capable of creating great songs without the Krug in the room. Boeckner chants over the best synthesizer lines on the album that he will “never be repatriated.” Repatriated back to Wolf Parade? Regardless of its meaning, Boeckner is able to make himself distinct, alongside his wife, as a songwriter and new wave revivalist. 

Check out "Repatriated" below:

 

Check out "This Heart's On Fire," one of Dan Boeckner's contributions to Wolf Parade's Apologies to the Queen Mary:

 

Codes and Keys - Death Cab for Cutie

Death Cab's latest launches 1000 shits, but not in the cool way.

It's not too surprising that Death Cab released an album like this. After all, each album they have released has been more uninspired and uncreative than their last. Narrow Stairs was listenable, I mean, “Cath...'s” jazziness was unique and “I Will Possess Your Heart” was, as I see it, an entertaining, creepy homage to The Police's “Every Breath You Take.” Plans was an indie-rock hit via the captivation of 14-year-olds. It seems all the more evident that they will never achieve their iconic Something About Airplanes or even Transatlanticism sound. The point made here is that Death Cab has released their worst album yet.

Death Cab dives into their new mess with “Home is a Fire,” which is a chill, whispery piece with a drowsy sense to it. Ben Gibbard's reverb is excessive, creating a sonic representation of our descent into sleep; which is exactly what it will do. The title track follows, stylized as a circus march with a symphonic layer. This song's lyrics seem to imply that we all need to cope with our basic human emotions, like jealousy, as Gibbard closes the second track with a repeated “We are alive.”

Many times song titles lead to a sense of predictability in a corresponding song's lyrics. “Some Boys,” Codes and Keys' third track, is one of those songs.

Have Gibbard's lyrics always been so vague? “Doors Unlocked and Open” has forced me to ponder this, as I have no idea what the meaning of this song is. Musically, the song is rather reminiscent of the album's first track with its fast-paced quality, repetition, and dreaminess. Luckily, the album's single, “You Are a Tourist” is more blatant, although the metaphor of the “tourist” is an exhausted one. Regardless, it's probably one of the album's stronger tracks, given the guitar riff is rather catchy making this song the equivalent of Narrow Stairs' “Cath...”

The album mellows into “Unobstructed Views,” or the soundtrack to some kid's stop-motion video of his home city that he posts on his Tumblr. It's relaxing, but completely silent and easy to overlook in the scheme of the album and of Death Cab's repertoire.

Once I got to the seventh track, the songs truly start molding into each other. “Monday Morning” utilizes the same musical voices it seems as many of the album's first tracks. Death Cab likes being swift all too often. The commentary presented in the song comes off as cliché gibberish about the necessity for change in our lives.

Off-beat piano and plenty of “OHHHH's” lead the next song “Portable Television.” (I think Death Cab has a thing for song titles that are normal and dull on this record.) But once again, in regards to the album's repeated musical themes, the tempo and piano played like a cave-man alludes to the song “Codes and Keys.” “Underneath the Sycamore” is also “the same” as the rest of the record. The album becomes tedious at this point, as it becomes clear that the majority of the songs have one of two qualities: tons of piano pounding or swift and spacey.

“St. Peter's Cathedral” I almost liked, for it seemed that Gibbard told everyone else in the band to just stop overdoing it. Upon first listening, I could have sworn it was a cleaner, childish James Blake tune. But don't worry, as always Gibbard attempts to create something anthemic and touching as the song goes on trying to capitalize on emotion with far from lo-fi vocal and guitar effects. Great for fans of The Edge.

I think anyone could have called the album's conclusion, a head-bobbing, acoustic guitar tune: “Stay Young, Go Dancing.” Gibbard refers to a “her/she” that we do not know, comparing her voice to a “symphony.” (Wow, that's so like, enlightening.) Listening in, I was longing for something dissonant; something you really couldn't sing along to (see “Line of Best Fit” from Something About Airplanes.) In this respect, this album is disappointing even though it was expected. Hopeful is not in this record's character, and I do not feel as such for the next Death Cab release.

All At Once - The Airborne Toxic Event

The Airborne Toxic Event made another album. Why they chose to do so we will never know.

The angsty music troupe Airborne Toxic Event, the same group that brought about dreary, gothy “Sometime Around Midnight” have finally released another record of songs whose writers have barely grown out of writing tunes about teenage romance, marriage, and other bullshit.

The first half of the album is in constant crescendo, most likely written in that manner purposefully so they could have huge awesome rad musical breakdowns at their live shows. They're all love songs. They even have a song called “All For A Woman.” ATE may be acting as a sweetheart (which isn't necessarily a dreadful trait,) but this song serves as perfect evidence that this band is a series of lyrically uncreative pussies with guitars. (Try listening to Plain White T's “Hey There Delilah,” or their entire discography.)

Sure, there's a niche to be held by these types of bands. Perhaps my disdain is mainly fueled by the fact that I am no longer 13. Lead vocalist/guitarist Mikel Jollett screams and whispers in all the places you would expect him to. Some of the tracks take the form of Mikel giving advice to listeners, such as in “It Doesn't Mean a Thing;” Mikel screams as if in a horror movie about how we'll all be emotionally vulnerable sometimes and we have hearts connected to strings and they're fragile or whatever.

I skipped over “Half of Something Else.” Why? It seemed promising with its introductory spacey instrumentation. However, the first lines were as such: “On the night that we met/ you said you that you wanted something more from me.” Then Mikel sings about some unspecific “her”: her blush, her smile, her face. Mikel goes on to explain that there was nothing he could do. (I'm assuming this is about a relationship he had with a girl.) Then the song builds up, and he remembers how "she SCREAMED” and how she “she CRIED.” It's like he screams to create emotion at the same time the guitarists hit their distortion pedals.

The lyrics hurt my brain too much. The sorta cool power-pop sensibilities of “Strange Girl” were heavily damaged by the rest of what Mikel had to sing. “All I Ever Wanted” plays out exactly like the first half of the album. “The Graveyard Near My House” is darker for ATE as they get a bit more visual and descriptive: he sings about a couple who will be buried next to each other, as their corpses rot. This song about graveyards is arguably the album's most intriguing, however, ATE does not fail to exasperate its trying listeners by giving their visuals an overdone context. It's an acoustic ballad, one of two standard and sigh-filled ways of ending a rock album (the other being an elaborate, lengthy track.)

This album may very well be considered a classic by the middle schooler in your life. But they'll grow out of it someday, and perhaps ATE can follow their lead.

All Eternals Deck - The Mountain Goats

The Mountain Goats release a good-not-great album that is just as exciting as unremarkable. (Still waiting for another All Hail West Texas, or a John Darnielle/Mike Posner collaboration.)

With over a decade's worth of material and recordings, John Darnielle released a new set of lyrically-centered songs for our enjoyment. These songs make All Eternals Deck, an album of perseverance and power that will surely please fans of Darnielle's Mountain Goats. Though I am enticed by a handful of the album's offerings, I find All Eternals Deck to be a tedious listen.

I will probably sound like many people did when they explained to me why my favorite album of 2010, Arcade Fire's The Suburbs, sucked. The inexplicable opinion of these people went something like this: “well, like, a third [or other fraction] of the album was good, but then it just went to shit from there.” I clearly hold bias in defense of one of my favorite bands here, but in regards to the Mountain Goats I was thinking quite the same thing. The album's first track, “Damn These Vampires,” has that type of aggressive, courageous melody where you think you are as emotionally connected with the lyrics as the songwriter. It will have people swingin' and singin' at their shows, and admittedly, it will probably make me do so as well to some degree. This is followed by the moderately-paced, lyrically quick “Birth of Serpents.” This song is cheerful with useful metaphors making it a favorable track.

Songs start being skipped when “Estate Real Sign” comes on. It's INTENSE! Darnielle seems ANGRY! This track, which seems to reflect a sense of tension on the part of the songwriter, lacks the appeal and relevant character of the majority of the Mountain Goats' library. “Age of Kings” does not follow the nature of its predecessor, being a much quieter, mysterious track. However, it appears as an annoying whisper; the kind that you will receive in your ear when being told to wake up before your desired time, as opposed to being whispered a juicy, gossipy secret. “The Autopsy Garland” is the second part to the “Age of Kings” with it's hushed, campfire temperament, although Darnielle seems a bit more, er, unique (?) in this song with his lyrics. I find it amusing. For example, Darnielle sings,“Fat rich men love their twelve-year-olds.” Ha.

“Beautiful Gas Mask” is the next track and it has the same up-lifting, “you can do it!” demeanor as “Damn These Vampires.” Darnielle carries the gas mask metaphor throughout the song, proving that he is able to create resonating songs that have seemingly random objects as their basis; the most powerful lines are probably in the song's conclusion, where Darnielle repeats, “Never sleep/Remember to breathe deep.” Breathe deep, guys.

“High Hawk Season” is one of the most distinct songs on the album. The backing church-like harmonies that are sung during the entirety of the song cause me to recall a local a Capella group known as Throat Culture. The song is so supremely (perhaps painfully for some) goofy that it's true to the semi-unorthodox personality of the Mountain Goats.

My main complaints with the album come with the tracks following this choral great. The album then becomes an uninspired and easily ignorable mess. This isn't to say the songs are REALLY FUCKING BAD, but they are relatively incomprehensible and seem deprived of feeling and memorability. “Soudoire Valley Song” and “Outer Scorpion Squadron” are perturbing piano serenades. “Prowl Great Chain” was hard to define from “Estate Real Sign” save the only slightly muted vocals. Then “For Charles Bronson” was just a fadeout to the moment where this half-sickly porpoise of an album comes up for fresh air with the next-to-last track “Never Quite Free.” Yes, I understand that this song could easily be classified as a “perturbing piano serenade” as well due to its instrumentation. Nonetheless, Darnielle successfully delivers a perfectly sentimental, high-voltage ballad-- this is the song I have in my head when I walk away from this album. Darnielle makes cliché bearable, as he tells listeners what they will never have to fear and what they will always have in the world to appreciate.

Unfortunately, “Never Quite Free” wasn't the perfect ending to the album that Darnielle had in mind, as the smooth “Liza Forever Minnelli” awkwardly attempts to make the album stay awake, like a middle school student who, on one of his first compositions, throws around commas constantly, almost as much as he writes, very, very, agitating run-on sentences.

No Color – The Dodos

The Dodos push aside their prior dullness, and give us something that's actually halfway-decent again.

Dodos are back to being a duo, in case you didn't know. I say that because I didn't. I wouldn't have had thought they were anything more than a two-person band if I didn't witness them take away the show when they opened for the New Pornographers in the Summer of 2010. It may have been that third member that made Time to Die so uninteresting, as they managed to be more assertive with creativity on No Color.

On their new release, The Dodos do what they always do. “Black Night” moves quickly, being perpetuated by Meric Long's extremely swift finger-picking. This energy is built by Logan Kroeber's heavily bassed heartbeat rhythm. (Note: Kroeber does not play with a bass drum, but rather synthesizes his low percussion sound with tom drums.)

I get the impression that the Dodos are fixing their mistakes, making up for the laziness that seemed too evident on their last release, Time to Die. The second track “Going Under” is a beautiful, memorable piece that will remind Dodos fans of their greatest songs, such as Visiter's “Fools” or Time to Die's seemingly single gem, “Fables.” This song will be one of the quintessential Dodos tracks, observing all traits that make up the Dodos' character: Kroeber's drum-rim-beating syncopation combined Long's sing-along chorus. Then of course, there's a powerful acoustic breakdown later in the track. [Insert sigh of relief.]

On “Don't Try to Hide It” the Long pulls your attention with an unusually folky strum pattern without a drumbeat that pounds on every note. Kroeber doesn't fail to deliver though, with something more tribal on this song. Long chants his mind-sticking chorus: “Don't try and hide it/Don't try and fight it”. I feel as if I could hear this performed right outside, with just some kid strumming away abusing his bass drum; it's a very realistic track where Long takes a step back from fast, bluegrass picking to perform something more approachable.

“When Will You Go” demands more sentimentality than it's more traditional predecessor. It's choppier, in a manner that goes outside of the Dodos typicality, but rather in a not-as-bright Vampire Weekend “A-Punk” way.

The next song, “Hunting Season” has a grungy, rough electric guitar melody that comes in during the middle of the song. It's strange and confusing, giving the song a sound as if it belongs on some lo-fi record from 15 years ago or possibly on your local “alternative” station-- regardless, it's rather peculiar and presents an awkward problem with the album; the electric guitar is distracting from the other voices of the songs. It also appears earlier in the album on “Don't Try to Hide It.” Although this is one of the stronger tracks on the record, it only sorta works here; it's still very upfront and blatant, deteriorating one's ability to appreciate the intricacy of Long's acoustic lines being interwoven with Kroeber's pounding.

“Don't Stop” is the conclusion to No Color and is a solid one at that. It's not some obnoxiously long epic tail that just throws around different lines of instrumentation, but rather it's curt, with an attractive, slower verse that covers Long's guitar at it's quickest and most elaborate. The song eventually slows, and with that, Kroeber eventually takes the musical attention and assists in building up the last minute of the song to an end.

No Color, although more of a comeback for the Dodos, does not have the same dynamic character as Visiter, which had 14 very distinct tracks. In general, they tend showcase the same style on each song on No Color. Nonetheless, it's extremely evident that the Dodos have the drive to try to erase past mistakes and drive themselves to stressed-phrased oblivion.

Let England Shake - PJ Harvey

5.0/5.0

PJ Harvey chants like Björk with the stature of an activist, complemented by frightening reverberation and lyrics.

PJ seems to call a meeting and give the low down on England in the album's first and title track. The conclusion? It's engulfed in isolation, having been destroyed, and it needs to desperately be woken up. PJ calls upon the country to “shake”, singing “weighted down with silent dead/I fear our blood won't rise again.” The lyrics force blame for England's less-than-likable state on the uncaring, as “indifference” appears to the victor in whatever battle the country was involved. The song's rhythm beats as if it were to follow marchers, those who greatly desire to see a better future for England. Backed with a xylophone melody, PJ's voice echoes as if through a microphone in a lecture hall to orient listeners with her thoughts in regards to the condition of modern England. 

PJ seems testy on the subject of England's state and determined to assist in its betterment, as she begins on album's next song, “The Last Living Rose,” with “Goddamn Europeans!” The accent of the guitar appeals to her aggravation; strums coincide with PJ's list of England's previous character with attacking syllables, giving it a dark attitude yet one that is honest and ideal for a call to action. She describes England as “beautiful” in the second line; however, the following imagery leaves listeners with a rather different concept, presenting England as a place someone would begrudgingly visit: “Let me walk through the stinking alleys/to the music of drunken beatings.” England's PJ Harvey is vicious, utilizing spiked words and rigid musical phrases.

Royal trumpet sounds whimper pathetically in the beginning of the song, “The Glorious Land.” It mostly serves as an annoyance to the other goings on of the track-- a track that causes shivers with the way PJ projects her voice. She chants alone, in brief when calling out “Oh America!” but is joined by a team, for a stammering “Oh England!” showing that she is far more curt with America. It seems as if she's crying out to the people of England in sympathy and desire to reach out. She even questions on the next track, “The Words That Maketh Murder”: “What if I take my problem to the United Nations?” This song in particular has the chorus appearance of a 1950's pop single-- a very spooky one, like a haunted version of The Four Lads' “Istanbul.”

“England” best represents PJ's English depression. Her country's title track is softer and more sensitive than the freaky anxiety presented by the previous tracks. She sings in a high register as she does throughout the album, but it's particularly evident in this song, giving her a Thom Yorke presence (see: “Reckoner” from Radiohead's In Rainbows.) “I live and die through England/Through England/It leaves a sadness/Remedies never within my reach,” PJ Harvey sings, clearly broken by the condition of her home. It's the most believable when she makes her vocal break later in the song, turning it into a heartfelt piece.

Let England Shake moves quickly from “England” on, with a continued focus on her country's destruction. On “Bitter Branches,” she tells her crowd of listeners to “wave goodbye” with their “bitter branches” for arms to rifled soldiers, building up the distinct sense of decrepitude that England has faced and will inevitably face. PJ Harvey also maintains her position on the final track, “The Colour Of The Earth”, which she describes as, “dull and browny red/The colour of blood I'd say.” It has the musical charm of a happy-go-lucky Irish tune, with lyrics that do not represent the same blissfulness.

It's relieving to hear a female, singer-songwriter that doesn't pain my ears with something so painfully built up with romantic apprehension that wraps itself up so much in stereotype. PJ Harvey luckily is a very different type of songwriter. In Let England Shake she puts herself on a pedestal-- not in a demeaning manner, but in a way that forces people to listen and possibly realize the state of their own country.

The People's Key - Bright Eyes

4.0/5.0

The People's Key is a driving record, maintaining Bright Eyes' energy.

“Firewall,” the first, seven-minute track on The People's Key is set around an oral report of sorts attempting to persuade (I think...) us about our concepts time. Conor Oberst has been one for experimentation, so to hear this rant, something outside of his regular folk-rock faith, wasn't too surprising. Nonetheless, it served as a disruption that required the listener to pay more attention-- it definitely did not have same “cynic-portrayed-happy” of I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning's “At the Bottom of Everything.”

In my experience with Oberst's songwriting, I find that it generally consists of giving topical concepts a tinge of pessimism, making music for those lyrics that is ironically bright. The songs following “Firewall” seem bright but don't give me the same understanding, “oh that's witty, Conor” smile. Rather, I hear music simply about goings-on that blends perfectly with songs about love and the strange. For instance, post-opener “Shell Games” is an energetic track that shows a difference in respect to the Bright Eyes standard. Oberst sings about his “heavy love,” with a chorus that is carried by an arena-rock guitar riff (the brief, power-chord ridden kind that's played right before the drums kick in,) and then is slammed by that electro-pop-rock-kind-of-thing that's achieved by many of the indie rock field today. (see: Belle & Sebastian's “Come On Sister” from Write About Love.) Regardless, Oberst's divergence with his words does not shame his previous work-- his music merely is understanding of its vocals.

Oberst takes a break for the dissonant “Approximate Sunlight.” Even though it is disconcerting, it's a calming track; the song that puts the exuberance of previous songs to a brief halt. This is negated with the very next song on the album, and possibly the album's most listenable, “Haile Selassie,” is set up with introductory delay, another synth-riff, as well as a chorus that delivers and resonates, much in the same way as “Shell Games.”

The second half of the album appears to be more traditional. Upon listening to “A Machine Spiritual (In the People's Key)” and “Beginner's Mind” one will hear how Oberst reestablishes his grasp on the comfortable element of classic Bright Eyes songwriting. The type of songwriting that allowed listeners to become familiar with their most unconscious, in-depth ideas that were left unprovoked; Oberst says and sings much of what these listeners always had knowledge of or believed in. The type of lyrics that provided the basis for the relationship between listeners and Bright Eyes years ago.

Conor Oberst with Bright Eyes created a set of songs that are more intricately woven with the influences of general pop and rock, as opposed to the homogeneous, "Bob Dylanist" standing he had on some of the band's previous albums. Regardless, Bright Eyes has shown a sincere lack of lyrical predictability, as always, in their most recent release.

Kaputt - Destroyer

5.0/5.0

New Pornographers' Dan Bejar releases another record with the nuances of 70s radio soft rock.

Supreme rambler Dan Bejar publishes his musings with smooth jazz sax and soft flow, that enacts those fond living room memories of my mother's favorite fusion records. And I hated them.

But Kaputt persuades listeners to absorb those rhythms that make your chin bob left-and-right, groove, and truly enjoy those qualities that when you thought were so painfully tacky. (It doesn't take much convincing.) Bejar created a masterpiece founded on these qualities that makes even the most attention-deficient pick up every single one of his words-- even in the nine minute “Suicide Demo For Kara Walker”, or the everlasting final track “Bay of Pigs (Detail).”

Lyrically speaking, Kaputt is dumbfounding-- how does Bejar keep it together with rushed stanzas of prose? He speaks as I would expect one to speak at some sort of poetry reading, specifically one that is being held in some sort of questionable establishment where listeners are hardly in a correct state of mind and somehow think the reciter is as out-of-sorts as they are-- when clearly the speaker, Bejar in this case, is very conscious of every word he utters. Kaputt has a stream-of-consciousness quality to it, but the lyrics are resounding nonetheless (see: “Poor in Love.”)

The lyrical archetype of Kaputt is “Who knew?” which is present on “Kaputt” and “Song for America.” Is this a mere call-out for sympathy? Or just a chance for Bejar to moan and blend his voice with the retro-goings on? Or perhaps it is just a means to make listeners more curious or more attentive to Bejar's message?

“Kaputt” describes the essence of its album, synthesizing a dream-like quality comparable to Daft Punk's “Something Like Us.” (The music video is all too fitting for this song, and really, the entire album.) The song ends with Bejar, as if on the verge of spilling his heart out, saying his catch phrase “who knew?” with a saxophone to boot. This song fades out in such a manner that I would expect Dan Bejar dancing on the beach on a deserted beach, like Herb Alpert in the music video for “Rise.”

Bejar dabbles with musical genres that, for lack of a better term, would generally be considered sub-par. Regardless, Kaputt keeps pounding out pop-ambient-smooth-jazz-fusion melodic allusions that it creates a mound of genius rooted in the generic music library of middle-aged women. And I dig Destroyer for doing it. 

Watch the video for "Kaputt" here:

 

Kiss Each Other Clean – Iron & Wine

3.0/5.0

Sam Beam developed an album that has a sense of uncontrollable ADD, for better and for worse.

Sam Beam's new album opens with something so intricate and definitive-- “Walking Far From Home” is a track that will end up as one of my favorites for 2011. It's as if Beam hung out with long-track professional Sufjan Stevens just enough to make musical inconsistencies happen, then took up Justin Vernon's recent knack for making auto-tune somewhat legitimate. There also seems to be a touch of masterful vocal-blending that's comparable to Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young's “Carry On.”

However, the magnificence of the album's first song may end up hurting the listener's feelings. “Me and Lazarus” comes out of nowhere, giving off an awkward vibe with instrumentation that just feels weird. Weird for that standard style of Beam. He gets rid of that comfortable folky-ness and creates sort of a sonic mess.

Once the third track plays you can hear that traditional acoustic-guitar strum- and all of a sudden you hear Michael Angelakos of Passion Pit? No...then some smooth jazz thing? Uh...

The rest of the album sorta plays out like that. I suppose I ought to give him credit for expanding his palette, but in reality it's really uncomfortable.

Typical Sam can be picked up slightly in “Godless Brother In Love,” a mellow, acoustic-and-piano track that attempts to resonate like Our Endless Numbered Days. The follow-up is painful for me to listen to-- “Big Burned Hand” is a what, some sort of funk-jam session? It was like the large amounts of filler-music I saw performed at a Parliament-Funkadelic concert I attended sometime ago, without the mesmerizing charm of George Clinton's rainbow hair.

The album's extraordinary first song builds up listeners for relative disappointment, for all-in-all, it seems that Iron & Wine has created a more inconsistent sound that just got overly-excited every time a new instrument or guitar sound was introduced. These inconsistencies are the basis for a series of songs that lack the memorability and deep sensitivity of Sam's previous work.

The King is Dead - The Decemberists

4.0/5.0

If you were to take a look at the back of the case of this album, you would see a faux-old-timey photo of the Decemberists. They look the type of band your dad may have played in; a grassroots, folky group that performs at all the family reunions. I couldn't help but find it amusing in that same familiar sense.

It's that familiar feel that is perpetuated throughout this album. You won't find any big orchestrations, or songs that sound like they have been layered with hundreds of tracks. This album was almost solely created with organic instrumentation, which is surprising considering their past records. Listen to The Crane Wife or The Hazards of Love and you've got two albums with strong storylines and scores from the rambling yet eloquently spoken Decemberists frontman Colin Meloy.

That isn't to say it's a bad thing-- it's hardly that. The album clearly marks a divergence from the standard storyboard albums. These are the songs written while just chilling in your house, and they're type of songs you would perform sitting on the front porch. The "Hymn" tracks ("January Hymn"/"June Hymn") are representative of this. Even though they are so incredibly basic in form, they still observe relaxing guitar melody intertwined with harmonica voices.

Even though this is a new style for the Decemberists, it still maintains Colin Meloy's songwriting sensibilities. My favorite track at the moment is "This Is Why We Fight," a ballad that makes plans to make you as solemn as the song itself-- a classic characteristic of songs by Colin. The last track on the album, "Dear Avery," doesn't have the power of "Sons & Daughters" but also serves as an all-encompassing track-- a throwback to classic Decemberists.

R.E.M.'s guitarist Peter Buck also helps in pushing this polished boulder of an album along, particularly with one of the album's most upbeat jams, "Calamity Song."

I would describe this album as a step forward for the Decemberists. Sure, the tracks appear to be attesting to the white person's sonic stereotype that is folk music. But the Decemberists can be marked down as one of the artists to have done it well and right with The King is Dead.

2010: Top 10 Tracks

So 2010 has been over for over a week now. I believe the lateness of this post though reflects concentration and devotion to the music of 2010, and making sure the best songs were selected. Or I may have just been busy. Here's Warchild's Top 10 Tracks of 2010.

10. “On Melancholy Hill” - Gorillaz

What is this? What's this synth-happy freak doing? Sure, as soon as that first chord chimes the next one can be simply predicted by the ear but when those pure, melodic notes eloquently present themselves all sense of cliché is completely lost. Gorillaz made a beautiful, heartfelt tune here that should make its way onto the mixtapes of hip teens everywhere.

(Image taken from http://www.live4ever.uk.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/gorillaz.jpg)

9. “Dance Yrself Clean” - LCD Soundsystem

Initial thought process on this song: “Alright, stop, James Murphy. This song was done a minute through...oh shit, what was that?”

This song probably won't win you over until about a third of the way in, since James Murphy drones at first. However, moments later, those fantastic, dance-y sensibilities of Murphy's work come through and you can't help but release a sigh of relief. Relief because this song represents Murphy's reconnection to the spirit of the tunes he wrote on LCD Soundsystem's first album, and to the spirit of everything that grooves.

(Image taken from http://stereogum.com/img/lcd_soundsystem-big_ideas.jpg)

8. “Rococo” - Arcade Fire

Simple question-- what's your favorite song off of your favorite album of the year? Well, uh...

I answered this question with the jam that pierced. Win Butler makes you sting with the way he eerily chants “Rococo” while you slowly but surely nod your head in agreement to the melody. The song gives its listeners a sense of fear that just becomes stronger, as each verse and chorus push the next section that follows. In this respect, Arcade Fire succeeded in making a song so incredibly disorienting that you're an unfinished puzzle when it's playing and you are not content again until the next song plays. And that's exactly why I love it.

(Image taken from http://www.clashmusic.com/files/imagecache/big_node_view/files/arcadefire_24.jpg)

7. “Norway” - Beach House

Dream-pop, or dream-anything for that matter, is always fun. Beach House's “Norway” exemplifies all that I love about the genre. There's vocal melodies bouncing everywhere, the kind that come from your speakers or headphones, into your ears, then into the atrium of your brain where they continue to bounce around. “Norway” is definitely one of the most resonating songs of the year, with the way it will keep the listener's eyes closed and mind open, after having been reached out to by Victoria Legrand's "sweep-you-off-your-reality" vocals.

(Image taken from http://www.minorlabeldebut.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/beach-house-pic.jpg)

6. “Helicopter” - Deerhunter

This song puts a smile on my face, but upon further listen, I realize this song capitalizes on our imminent doom. Bradford Cox asks listeners to “pray” as Deerhunter describes falling away and the feeling one gets when he or she has exhausted their presence. We have all been spun around, felt tired and needy, attempting to just get through each day with little conflict; “Helicopter” describes this emotion with extreme intimacy. 

(Image taken from http://www.kranky.net/images/photos/deerhunter.jpg)

5. “Born Free” - M.I.A.

This track off of M.I.A.'s new release Maya is a spectacle to me. It doesn't only showcase Maya's, or M.I.A.'s, superior knack for sampling and production but also is the epitome of M.I.A. as a musician. There's the clear political message. There's the abrasive, catchy, stereo-pounding instrumentation. Put it together, and you've got an M.I.A. track. “Born Free” is both of those things, combined with almost a punk energy and a head-banging sensibility. (Watch the video here.)

(Image taken from http://cdn.complex.com/assets/images/Individuals/Complex%20Women/082007/mia420.jpg)

4. “Infinity Guitars” - Sleigh Bells

Sleigh Bells makes me rage in the way Rage Against the Machine did back when I was fourteen (though I still love me some RATM.) Listening to this track by Sleigh Bells is comparable to sticking your head in a microwave, after popping an entire bottle of caffeine pills. Especially the last thirty or so seconds. “Infinity Guitars” is my ultimate party song for the year, refueling the energy meter in any person that gives it a listen. (Watch the video here.)

(Image taken from http://cdn.stereogum.com/files/2009/10/sleigh_bells-santos-stereogum_22-608x405.jpg)

3. “Bloodbuzz Ohio” - The National

When the National came to Columbus, Ohio in August, Matt Berninger announced that this song was for Andyman, a local radio DJ that had recently passed away. It was touching to say the least, as associating things with the death of an individual is often a simple way of making something more serious than it actually may be, however I find that this song is a best friend for people undergoing the more brutal aspects of life. The reference to Andyman also greatly backed up the performance of this song. The combination of the National's voices, from Berninger to the Dessner brothers, make this song everything but cheery...yet, it creates resolution. (Watch the video here.)

(Image taken from http://www.students.stedwards.edu/mgarciap/the_national.jpg)

2. “A More Perfect Union” - Titus Andronicus

This song is the opening to a battle. It is the drum-line that introduces war one may fantasize about during the battles that occurred in the past. It is that inspirational speech that Mel Gibson gives in Braveheart-- the cynical version that he would give for the malcontent. After all, in reference to fellow Jersey-local Springsteen, Patrick Stickles shouts “Tramps like us/Baby, we were born to die.” It's in this nature that Titus Andronicus probably would make soldiers weep.

The war-march-like music that comes in the last half of the song is just too sonically irresistible, as well as the solo guitar that interlocks with the percussion. Altogether, it sounds like what I think it's supposed to represent: a bunch of young men getting themselves into something with no idea what will happen. They are naïve, but they're determined and ready for whatever they will undergo. (Watch the single-version video here.)

(Image taken from https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLiJedIBThHp9Ukw13UkrRRHKApOknQRlKC7c_g3qh2W7vrb004PO7Ckw8Mlce4ty9YIoW2fqkXOewtYd8BgRDeT-XDuplOCjYY7JSZ5yDifNCdb05LuJQjfXfToDLSQffknTZPulfUmU/s1600/Titus-Andronicus--001.jpg)

1. “Runaway” - Kanye West Feat. Pusha-T

As if Kanye's new stuff couldn't be thrown in your face enough, right? But the hype the album and it's single “Runaway” received and continues to receive is well deserved. This song is really quite simple, which is probably the beauty of it; the number of notes on that piano part can be counted on one hand. The beat doesn't even really have that much syncopation. The simplicity of the music mixes with Kanye's words perfectly-- words that were constructed to be a rude awakening for listeners with any sense of regret. But, perhaps most importantly, words that will continue to be alluded to and sung for quite sometime. (Watch the single-version video here.)

(Image taken from http://theurbandaily.com/files/2010/10/Kanye-West-Runaway-Tuxedo.jpg)