Archive for 2009

Washed Out “Feel It All Around”

I’m not sure whether or not the background hum in “Feel It All Around” is actually a sustained sample from 10cc’s “I’m Not In Love,” but either way, the sound effectively places this song in the same emotional spectrum while carving out its own niche of muted, shell-shocked melancholy. The genius in this music, however, is in the way this lovelorn state is presented with a cool, dispassionate front of someone who has either become deliberately numb, or is in very deep denial about their pain.

Visit the Washed Out MySpace page.

Grooms “Dreamsucker”

The guitars here trade off between mellow arpeggios and blasts of distortion, and so we’re in well-trod and comfortable territory, particularly if you’re into Sonic Youth and more guitar-centric post-rock bands like Gastr Del Sol and Dianogah. The thing that makes this track really pop, though, is in the way the percussion and vocals build up this fidgety, wired feeling, like you’re literally shaking from too much caffeine, but you’re still a bit sleepy and/or lost in some sort of mental fog.

Visit the Grooms’ MySpace page.

YACHT “The Afterlife”

I’m not sure what Jona Bechtolt and Claire Evans know about life after death, but I’m reasonably certain it can’t be all that much more than what you and I understand or believe. Nevertheless, Evans delivers her pronouncements with a dry authority that is just pushy enough to make you at least consider her notion of existence beyond the flesh as being something akin to a spiritual encore or a celestial after-party. Other danceable songs with a similar theme may try to oversell the message with a more joyous and reassuring sound, but YACHT instead go with a comfortable, groovy emotional neutrality that just sorta says “Hey, take our word for it and cool out, okay?” Okay.

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Animal Collective @ Prospect Park 8/14/2009

What Would I Want Sky / My Girls / Who Could Win A Rabbit / Summertime Clothes / Slippi / Chores / Daily Routine / Bleed / Fireworks / Brother Sport // Lion In A Coma / Guys Eyes / Leaf House

Animal Collective “Brother Sport”

I am not sure what I thought this show would be like, but I definitely did not expect it to be anywhere near as fun as it was. I believe that a lot of my enjoyment was a direct result of being up in the front, surrounded by people in their very early 20s who were so cute, silly, and guilelessly enthusiastic about the band and their music that it was impossible not to throw yourself into the experience with an equivalent level of joy and excitement. I had previously harbored the suspicion that AnCo fans were among the most obnoxious people in the world, but now I just want to see everything with these kids.

The Animal Collective come off badly when filmed. The songs seem sloppy, sometimes outright butchered, and it’s hard to get a feel for what the guys are doing, or what they are even shooting for in terms of aesthetics. It makes perfect sense in person, though. It’s part hippie singalong jamboree, part “experimental” happening, and occasionally something akin to straight-up electronic dance music. They mainly play electronic instruments, but they avoid and/or rebel against sterile programming, doing as much as they can to feel loose and unpredictable despite the nature of their instruments. They’re not the first band to attempt this sort of thing — their opening act Black Dice was essentially a dire worst-case scenario — but they may well be the best, and by far, the most melodic. This music connects because the band have a gift for writing tunes that shines even when they’re doing their best to obscure it. Unsurprisingly, the audience responds best to the songs with the boldest tunes — the straight-up synthpop of “Summertime Clothes,” the overwhelmingly lovely harmonies of “My Girls” and “Guys Eyes,” the playful dizziness of “Leaf House,” and the life-affirming euphoria of “Brother Sport.”

Even when the band are very inscrutable and perverse, the music conveys a very genuine love and empathy, and a total lack of cynicism. This may sound horribly corny to some of you, but just hearing some of these songs is like getting a big hug when you desperately need it, and in the context of a concert with a dancing, singing audience, that feeling is even more intense. Halfway through this show, I got some very bad news. I couldn’t have been in a better place for that moment. Yes, I was kinda lost through “Daily Routine” and a bit dazed for “Fireworks,” but “Brother Sport” was precisely what I needed, and in paying attention to the lyrics now, shockingly literal in its relationship with what I am actually experiencing.

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As of right now all of the t-shirts have been mailed out. Depending on where you are in the world, you should have yours by the end of next week. If you do not have yours by then, contact me asap. Most of you should have it by now. Sorry that it took so long to get this all together — I’m only one man, and I ran into a lot of problems along the way.

If you missed your chance to order a shirt the first time around, I have some extra stock available now — S, M, and L in the cartoon design, and S, M, L, and very few XL in blue. It would not be a bad idea to email me to check to see if your size is still available before making a purchase, to avoid problems if I’m all out. If you live in the US or Canada, you can order one here, and if you live anywhere else, PLEASE use this page. I lost about $100 in profit shipping to non-North America customers who didn’t pay for international shipping. It kinda sucked, I won’t lie to you. But yes, Fluxblog t-shirts are still available for a limited time. Please consider buying one.

Bat For Lashes @ Webster Hall 8/12/2009

Glass / Sleep Alone / Horse & I / Tahiti / Siren Song / The Wizard / Two Planets / Sad Eyes / Traveling Woman / What’s A Girl To Do? / Pearl’s Dream / Prescilla // Good Love / Moon & Moon / Trophy / Daniel

Natasha Khan is so naturally gifted as a singer that her technical skill seems entirely effortless, leaving you to focus on how fully she commits to throwing herself into the emotion of her songs, and the visual aspects of her performance. Truly, this is the sort of artist who works up to a standard that makes a vast majority of her peers seem like unimaginative slackers, or just outright untalented. I can understand why this music is not for everyone, but when artists working on this level of craft exist, it’s hard to grasp why so many would prefer amateurism, as is so often the case in the indie world.

Bat For Lashes “Siren Song” (Live at Shepherd’s Bush Empire, 2009)

There are two ways to be emotionally devastated by this song: You can either relate to the character singing the song, and identify with the self-loathing that comes out of the conflict of wanting true love and affection despite a restlessness that makes it impossible to commit for long, or you could see yourself as this woman’s victim, and imagine this horrible bait-and-switch scenario as a bleak romantic inevitability for yourself. For me, it is the latter, and the thing that guts me most is that this isn’t some manipulative, creepy, sociopath thing — she feels sincere, sweet, genuine love for this man, but cannot stop herself from being selfish or self-destructive. To a certain extent, this is self-fulfilling prophecy, perhaps on both sides — one person convinced that they can’t control their impulses no matter how unhappy it makes them, and the other no doubt feeling as though they’re just not good enough and unwilling to fully buy into this whole “it’s not you, it’s me” line, no matter how many times she swears that she is evil.

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Metric “Twilight Galaxy”

Sometimes you just need someone to tell you that you’re indulging in self-defeating behavior, and that you could have it so much better if you just…stopped. That’s about where the sentiment of the song ends — you realize that you’ve been doing the wrong thing, think about doing the right thing, and well, who knows what happens next? It’s all in the moment, this extended present tense, and despite the potential to be quite anthemic, it stays small and intimate, and Emily Haines plays it dry and matter-of-fact. That may be the only way to sell the line that totally slays me, though: “Did I ask you for attention when affection is what I need?”

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Prince “Electric Chair”

In the past few days there have been at least three occasions in which I have experienced a moment of paranoia that people in my immediate vicinity were capable of reading my mind. It only lasts for a few seconds, but in that time the existence of telepathy seems entirely plausible, and the fear that anyone could have this psychic gift is quite valid, especially if you happen to be thinking horrible, hateful thoughts or something that could hurt another person’s feelings.

Even if this is a little weird, I’m not too concerned about it, and I’m reasonably certain I’m not on the path to, say, full-blown schizophrenia. This is most likely the result of a) reading X-Men comics since I was five and b) an overactive sense of guilt. In the case of the hateful thoughts, the possibility of transparency is mortifying — it’s bad enough to know that I can be so angry and bitter about specific people, I don’t think I could handle strangers being privy to that sort of thing. The paranoia seems more like taking a rational outside perspective on my own train of thought, and thinking “Oh, you’re really going to be so petty, even in the privacy of your own skull? For shame.”

In “Electric Chair,” an absolutely brilliant song made woefully obscure by its inclusion on the Batman soundtrack, Prince imagines a hypothetical scenario in which his private thoughts are held up to both public scrutiny and the law of the land. In this case, it’s a matter of revealing his methods and intentions — he’s been using a girl’s friend to get closer to her, hoping to make his move. In terms of 80s Prince songs, this is not all that scandalous, but the chorus hits this sweet spot of nagging guilt for using people and utter shamelessness about his desire. He’s playful and coy, but he’s not messing around here. This is a by-any-means-necessary situation for him, and he’s not about to apologize for his intensity.

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There is a fiction project that I have been working on for a while now, and after some time trying to work out the best way to tell the story, I have settled on the notion that I want it to be a comic book, ideally an episodic series that can be collected in either a set of paperbacks, or a single large volume. There is a problem, though — though I actually can draw, my skills are not up to level demanded by my own story, which requires an ability to draw a variety of vivid scenery. I would love to find a cartoonist/illustrator to collaborate with on this, but I do not actually know anyone who is capable, available, and interested in working on a pretty huge project with me.

I’m open to a lot of different styles as long as it can service the story. Maybe you are that person, or you know them, and can pass this along. I don’t know what to expect, but I’ve been pleasantly surprised by my audience in the past, so I may as well bring it up here, right? Not a lot to lose. I don’t want to publicly divulge too much information about the concept and plot, but I think it’s unlike anything else that’s been done in the medium. It’s a romance/comedy/adventure with themes about class, self-perception, and the ridiculousness of abstract disdain. Some good reference points for the project include: Bryan Lee O’Malley’s Scott Pilgrim books, Whit Stillman’s three films, 30 Rock, New York Magazine, New York City in general, Gossip Girl, Jonathan Fire Eater’s album Wolf Songs For Lambs, and “AT&T” by Pavement.

I have total faith in this material, and there is absolutely nothing I’d rather do than execute this project with someone eager to make something truly wonderful. If you’re interested, let’s talk. I want to be very clear: If we did this, it would be a co-ownership thing. I’m not looking to fuck anyone over.

Cornershop “Who Fingered Rock ‘N’ Roll?”

Tjinder Singh writes rock and roll music from an outsider’s perspective and with an insider’s knowledge, resulting in these delightfully meta songs that somehow fuse a wry cynicism with the wide-eyed joy of fandom. “Who Fingered Rock ‘N’ Roll?” is a bit vulgar, but it’s also gleefully reverential, and whole-heartedly embraces the notion of getting the band back together and hitting the road to rediscover all the old thrills. Of course, that’s just what Cornershop are doing right now, and it just wouldn’t be them to not foreground that narrative with a bit of a smirk.

Buy it for way too much money from Amazon.

Neon Indian “Deadbeat Summer”

I am so bored with fake lo-fi. There is no good reason for anyone to deliberately make their music sound cheap and weak these days, and it mostly just seems like a tactic to distract the listener from sub-amateur songwriting and poor musicianship. “Deadbeat Summer” is a rare exception — not only is it a very strong song, but the tune is actually improved by the hazy, woozy production style. It’s like tenth-generation romance – nostalgia faded out from endless dubbing, far removed from the source, but still vaguely magical.

Visit the Neon Indian MySpace page.

St. Vincent “Just The Same But Brand New”

…and then, suddenly, you snap out of it. You’re still the same person, but everything in your head has shifted. You’re either new, or normal again. Same difference, maybe. You’re exactly like yourself, but as seen through someone else’s eyes. They forgive your flaws in ways that you cannot, and are far more generous in their estimation of your strengths. You’re skeptical, just a little bit, but willing to believe that they are right about you. It takes this enormous weight off of your shoulders, and with feet firmly on the ground, you nevertheless feel as though you’re light enough to just float away. You’re still the same, and the problems haven’t gone away, but you’re calm and assured. It’ll be okay.

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French Horn Rebellion vs. Database “Beaches and Friends” (The Twelves remix)

Clearly there were a lot of cooks in the kitchen for this song, but it came out quite delicious, so good for them, and better for us. I enjoy the irony in the fact that the first bit of vocals you hear in the song is a guy talking about being nervous because he’s never danced before — there’s virtually no anxiety in this music, and the sleekness of the grooves suggest an entirely effortless grace. Cutting to the chase, I’d just love to have my life feel like this song. Breezy, funky, classy, calm, and ridiculously fun. This is aspirational music!

Visit the French Horn Rebellion MySpace page.

Hercules & Love Affair “I Can’t Wait”

I had an epiphany the other day about how feeling impatient and dissatisfied in the present tense only seems to make the things you’re waiting for come to you later than you’d like because it keeps you from focusing on what you need to do to get whatever it is that you want. This song is not about that, though. The lyrics are specific to relationships, and the woman singing is at the point where she just can’t handle waiting around for things to work out with someone that she loves. You don’t get a lot of concrete details here, but even though she seems exhausted and frustrated, I don’t really believe her when implies that she is giving up on this person. If anything, she’s just trying to give herself a break. There’s a lot more love in this song than resignation.

Also, this not a Nu Shooz cover. Sorry!

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Scissor Sisters “Paul McCartney”

I think of “Paul McCartney” as being the theme song of this site, as it gets closer to the heart of why I do this than anything else I’ve encountered. In the tune, Jake Shears sings about meeting Paul McCartney in a dream, and listening to his advice and waking up with a renewed sense of purpose. In other words, it’s about the love and inspiration we get from people we do not know, and how what we take away from art is often just as crucial to our lives as our relationships with the people we do know.

Above all other things, art is communication. For the artist, it is a way of expressing thoughts and sentiments that are not always best suited to the context of conversation, and for the audience, it is a way of understanding other people’s lives. Sometimes we relate, but that’s not always the point. When art is great, it clarifies our thoughts while bringing us closer to something outside ourselves. It enriches our experiences, and opens us up. It challenges us, it provides catharsis, and it reassures us when we’re lost and confused. It’s only natural for us to love the people who make the art that means so much to us — in just the same way that Jake is grateful to the positive influence of Paul McCartney on his life, I am intensely grateful to Jake for writing this song, and for so perfectly evoking the feeling of awakening from a long period of doubt and malaise. Thank you so much, Jake. I’m in love with YOUR sound.

The song also makes me think about you. If you’re reading this, the odds are good that I do not actually know you, but somehow still we have some kind of relationship, and in some cases, it’s quite dear and meaningful. Doing this every day, sharing this music and writing with you, has brought so much good into my life. Virtually everything good that has come my way in the past six years is a direct result of my work here, and it blows my mind. All these people I love, and who love me. All these opportunities, all of this goodwill. It does not always make sense to me, but I could not be more grateful for my good fortune. All I want to do is to create things that mean as much to other people as the art I love means to me. This site is not the only thing I want to do, but I owe so much to it. It’s the music that connects me to you.

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Múm “Sing Along”

I imagine a lot of the thrill of being a band and going on tour comes from the validation of seeing people respond to your music with a positive familiarity. These are the songs they love, and they’ve come to see you perform them in the hope of some kind of communion with the music, and with you. This isn’t always what happens, though. A lot of the time you’re just playing for people who have no particular interest in you, and you have to try to win them over, and try to get them to sing along to songs they don’t know. This song is specific to this experience, but I think there’s something universal in this as well, at least as much in that we’re all going through life with the hope that people will understand and appreciate us, and even if you go into every experience with the fullest, most hopeful heart, you’re constantly risking rejection and indifference. This is a song about putting everything on the line, and staying optimistic against all reason that one of these days people are going to start singing along with you.

Visit the Múm MySpace page.

Bell “Magic Tape”

All songs are essentially sensory illusions, but there is something particularly chimerical about this composition. It curves and folds in on itself without seeming to break a single straight line like some kind of musical Möbius strip, but there’s also a hint at multiple layers of depth that are not immediately apparent. There’s a sense of physical space at every moment, but it’s difficult to suss out the shape of that space, or your position in it. Nevertheless, the piece does not evoke discomfort or vertigo — on the contrary, the confusion is a pleasurable thing, kinda like the way we go on amusement park rides to simulate sensations we rarely encounter in normal life.

Visit the official Bell website.

U-God and Mike Ladd “Lipton”

U-God is man with limited stylistic range and musical utility, but he’s very skilled, and when he finds a track that flatters his deep, rhythmic monotone, he can truly shine. He tends to work well with up-tempo numbers — think “Gravel Pit” and “Cher Chez La Ghost” — and this collaboration with Mike Ladd flatters the same strengths, i.e., the rubber ball bounciness in his voice that seems to spring up off the beat. Ladd’s track is bubbly but butch, contrasting a kooky keyboard vamp with macho shouts and howls to get a sound that evokes a fratboy funhouse without so much ickiness. It’s a little “Louie Louie,” but not nearly as inscrutable — it’s pretty obvious that these dudes are just talking about how much they love to fuck.

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Like A Stuntman “On Repetition We Are”

Listening to this song on repeat — I know, how appropriate! — and trying to come up with some way to write about it, I realized that the best way to describe it was probably the cheapest, i.e., this sounds like Merry Post Pavvy era Animal Collective attempting to write their own Gary Glitter song. It’s got the simple repetitive hooks, but its stomp and momentum is muted and washed out with quasi-Beach Boys vocalizing and hazy synthesizer washes. The more I hear this song, the more I focus on the oscillating synth tone at the center of the piece, and its odd chilling effect on the arrangement. The composition is dynamic, but that hum makes everything seem frozen and out of time, much in the way a strobe light can make any movement seem slow and choppy.

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Lake “Madagascar”

“Madagascar” is adapted from a song called “Batsi Boka” by Ny Antsali, but I have never heard it, nor can I find it online. Nevertheless, it sounds very familiar, and I fall into this groove so easily it seems as though I’ve known it for most of my life. I suppose that either way, that feeling is the point — you float and drift along with it. You let it in, it eases you up. You pay too close attention, though, and you notice the melancholy in the lyrics, and the relaxed vibe starts to feel more like resignation, or worse, a very pleasant sort of oblivion.

Visit the official Lake website.

Pulp “I Love Life”

I’ve been under a lot of stress recently, and very often these days it feels as though I am unhappy about virtually every aspect of my life. Last night I learned of some very bad news that makes everything much, much worse. After taking a brief call from someone who was worried about me, I lied down on my bed with my back flat to the mattress and stared at my ceiling while this song by Pulp played on repeat for at least a half hour. It was the only thing I could do. It helped.

“I Love Life” is a rare and special song, the sort that makes a case for living that is unsentimental and bluntly logical: What else are you going to do? It’s the only thing you’ve got, really. The lyrics deliberately avoid the simple and the saccharine, and that makes it even more affecting, as there are certain truths that just sound better coming from a cynic. Jarvis Cocker is gentle but forthright, and though he is speaking for himself, it comes out sounding like advice for everyone. It starts with a feeling of resignation — “mum and dad have sentenced you to life” — but as it builds, the tone becomes increasingly defiant, til at the end Cocker sounds as though he is literally fighting for his life. The point here isn’t to hold on, but to endure and survive. If there’s any triumph to be had, it’s simply to overcome anything that tries to knock you down and take you out.

Buy it from Amazon.