November 15th, 2007
I immediately dismissed White Williams after noticing he was tabbed as the opening act on the Girl Talk/Dan Deacon Hipster Headache 07! tour (sponsored by Dewars.) Then I saw his album art, begging to be filed into the “why can’t irony finally die?” category. But upon closer examination, wading into this American Apparel infested territory looked shockingly promising, considering the album art featured two people hitting a hookah and exhaling the word, Smoke. Good enough for me.
Unlike his ex-tourmates, Williams’ music doesn’t sound like it was composed after an all-night snort-fest consisting of 4 Adderrals, two rails, and a few pixie sticks for good measure (dude, you haven’t lived until you’ve taken bumps from the green flavor). Instead, the man born Joe Williams pays homage to the archetypal hipster tropes: Bowie, Eno, Roxy Music, T. Rex, Beck. While the sound might not be that original , the 23-year old New Yorker has synthesized his influences well to produced one of the year’s best debuts. As Eric “Marathon Packs” Harvey so aptly put it in his Pitchfork review, “Smoke could be Midnite Vultures Redux: Something for the Blunted.”
So while White Williams might roll with a few too many emaciated dudes in throwback Pirates caps, ultimately Smoke deserves some burn (da-dum ching). Even if he’s a lot less cool than White Goodman (who would most certainly whip that flabby Dan Deacon into shape.).
But Seriously, I Really Do Have Shackles
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Download:
MP3: White Williams-”Headlines”
MP3: White Williams-”The Shadow”
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October 25th, 2007
Now that “Fiascogate” has crushed the dreams of the Okayplayer message board junkies who’d hoped to anoint him the rightful heir to the Native Tongues conscious rap throne, they’d be well served to redirect their dork-outs (like Buggin’ Out, but nerdier) towards 24-year old South Carolina MC, Danny!, a rapper/producer who reminds me of what everyone hoped Lupe would be pre-Fiasco fiasco.
Of course, the attention paid to fucking up “Scenario” was wildly overblown and only received the coverage it did because a) it was on national television and b) instead of apologizing, Lupe got more defensive than Ann Coulter at a Hanukkah celebration. I’m all for people having their own opinions, but I think most of us can agree that Hammer was not more important than Tribe. And if you don’t agree, go listen to “Pumps and a Bump?” again. If anything, the debacle merely proved that underground heads were wrong in the first place to even think Lupe would be the next Tribe, De La, or the J.B.’s (this, of course, being categorically impossible).
However, if it were possible, I would hope that the next Tribe would have a better sense of humor than Lupe, who despite being a very good rapper has a comic ability roughly akin to your average Lesbian Tax Attorney and/or Bill O’ Reilly. What’s often missed when discussing the whole “Tribe is the Greatest Rap Group Ever” theory (admittedly, not a bad theory), is the fact that the entire Native Tongues crew were a bunch of funny dudes. For every “Scenario” there was an “I Left My Wallet in El Segundo,” for every “Electric Relaxation,” Phife would describe himself as the height of Muggsy Bogues, with the complexion of a hockey puck. Shit, De La were one of a handful of rappers to ever successfully utilize the comedic interlude.
Somehow, Prince Paul is Responsible for Both This and MC Paul Barman
Which brings me to Danny!, a 24-year old South Carolinian who released two studio albums and two beat records before realizing some minor success with last year’s Charm, an LP that earned him a spot on the Grammy short list and a deal with Def Jux. Like Lupe, Kanye, Little Brother, and every other rapper that ?uestlove has kissed with his neo-Native Tongue, Danny!’s identity comes in opposition to the gangster posturing of the “mainstream.” He went to a liberal arts college, his rhymes are clever and complex, his beats are a Fruity Loop bowl of 9th Wonder and The Ummah, and his influences are unmistakable. A loose homage to De La Soul Is Dead, Danny Is Dead! aims to emulate De La less in actual content and more in that record’s idea of being a third way between the daisy age and dope boys.
What ultimately makes the record so likeable is Danny’s wit and sense of self-awareness. He boasts that he’ll use his fame to get Raven Symone’s phone number. (Why I’m still not sure). On “Rhyme Writer Crime Fighter” he imagines himself as a rhyming super hero aiming to get home in time to watch “Seinfeld.” On “Press Conference,” he admits he doesn’t get a lot of love outside of the two or three people who know about him. Hell, the full name of his website reads “DannySwain…but who cares?” Don’t worry though, this isn’t on the MC Paul Barman “It’s funny because I know how bad I am” tip, Danny! has punch-line humor too, bragging that’s “he’s on iTunes, you’re on iSuck.”
With his official Def Jux debut slated to drop whenever El-P gets off the year-long touring treadmill, Danny has flashed enough potential for one to think that he has a shot at greatness in the future. Yet for that to happen, he’ll need to transcend his influences and create his own De La Soul Is Dead, rather than merely try to re-create it. In the meantime, Danny Is Dead! is enjoyable enough to leave you willing to listen to his request to “Let, Let Me In.”
Buy Danny is Dead
Download:
MP3: Danny!-”Rhyme Writer Crime Fighter”
MP3: Danny!-”Check It Out”
Posted in Album Reviews | 6 Comments »
October 16th, 2007
I usually re-post my Stylus articles in their entirety here, but it feels wrong to to do so for this one, as seems to make a lot more sense over there. I told my editor, Todd Burns, it’s either one of the best things I’ve ever written for them or one of the worst. Hopefully, it’s the former, apologies for wasting your time if it’s the latter. Either way, this is a great record from what I consider to be one be the finest songwriters I’ve heard in a long long time. Even though their band name still sucks.
My Stylus Review of Sunset Rubdown’s Random Spirit Lover
Download:
MP3: Sunset Rubdown-”Up on Your Leopard, Upon the End of Your Feral Days”
MP3: Sunset Rundown-”Winged/Wicked Things”
From Shut Up I Am Dreaming
MP3: Sunset Rundown-”Stadiums and Shrines II”
From Sunset Rubdown EP
MP3: Sunset Rubdown-Three Colours II
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October 9th, 2007
Cease to Begin, the sophomore effort from Band of Horses sees its official Sub Pop release today and has been met with solid reviews, with Pitchfork throwing it a 7.7 and Stylus giving it a solid B. In his piece, Derek Miller wrote that, “Band of Horses can still pen some itchingly addictive tunes. Cease to Begin may well be an album of transition, but these Carissa’s Wierdos have proven enough in just two years to mark them as a band to hear stadium-huge in small arenas and smaller speakers in whatever splotch of this vast humming place you call your own.”
Derek’s right, but if you asked me why I like Band of Horses the answer is much simpler: they still sound an awful lot like My Morning Jacket and early Neil Young. While that that might not be original enough for some, any band capable of successfully channeling the pastoral hayseed goodness of Jim James and Shakey is good enough for me.
The move to small-town Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina seems to make sense for the band, whose first album, Everything All the Time, seemed more grain silo’d and bearded than it did rainy day and caffeine-addled. There’s always been a rural straw-chewing quality to their music, nothing complicated at, just shambling pleasant songs to throw before you go to sleep at night or right when you wake up. This might not be a great album but it’s certainly a very likeable record from a very likeable band. Plus, they name one of their songs “Detlef Schrempf.” Which is awesome. Hopefully the next album will have a song “Xavier McDaniel.”
Download:
From Cease to Begin
MP3: Band of Horses-”Is There a Ghost”
From Everything All the Time
MP3: Band of Horses-”The Funeral”
MP3: Band of Horses-”Great Salt Lake”
Unfortunately, Schrempf is More of a Kraftwerk Man
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October 9th, 2007
Reading Crock Tock’s review of the Dark Star Orchestra show in San Francisco has gotten me in a Dead sort of mood. To get my fix before I see DSO this coming Saturday at the El Rey, I’ve been listening to The Dead’s Golden Gate Studio’s Autumn demos, recorded on November 3rd, 1965, in the final month of their pre-Kesey, pre-Acid Test days.
What’s most strange about these sessions, recorded under the Warlocks name, is how little they sound like the band the Dead would become. Just six songs and 18 minutes, the cuts are far from the the experimental wankery that you’d expect, and more like lost lost gems from a Nuggets compilation.
This is still Pigpen’s band and the raw lo-fi tracks are filled with squiggling harmonicas, garage rock riffs and creaky organs that sound like a hybrid of the Seeds and the 13th Floor Elevators. For anyone with even a passing interest in the Dead, it comes highly recommended.
Tracklist:
1. Can’t Come Down-3:05 2.Mindbender-2:42 3. The Only Time is Now-2:52 4. Caution-3:21 5. I Know You Rider-2:42 6. Early Morning Rain-3:21
Download:
ZIP: Grateful Dead (Warlocks)-Golden Gate Studios 1965
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October 3rd, 2007
Considering Zilla, is a regular contributor to this site, I’m obviously not the most objective person to evaluate his music. But the truth is, if I didn’t think his music was great, I never would’ve asked him to blog for me in the first place.
Since I first wrote about them roughly a year ago, Clean Guns have systematically appeared on just about every single hip-hop blog in this weird and narrow corner of the Internet. The reason behind this is very simple: Clean Guns have the rare ability to navigate the tightrope between traditionalist boom-bap and electro and indie-rock referencing progressivism. They’re intelligent enough for the underground kids, tough off enough for the coke-rap set to bob their head to.
Coming on the heels of their impressive debut, Sometimes There is Trouble, and this year’s Living in Harmony Mixtape: , the World Domination EP is arguably Clean Guns’ finest work yet. With brilliant beats supplied by Los Angeles producer, World Domination Headquarters, Zilla and his partner Knowledge Don step up their game, displaying a marked improvement on the mic, a testament to their prodigious work ethic. I could say more but the record is available as a free download. If you like smart hip-hop that you can play very loud in your car, chances are this will be one of your favorite records this year. Now, all Clean Guns need to do now is invent a you tube dance craze, then maybe world domination will be within their reach.
Download: Clean Guns-”World Domination EP” (left-click)
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September 28th, 2007
There’s wolves in the garden,” Chris Richard belts out, midway through the fourth song of The Ortolan, the debut from the Silverlake quartet, the Deadly Syndrome. Every time I hear the line, it instantly triggers memories of an ‘80s movie that shall forever remain nameless, a fact I attribute to having spent one too many high school evenings taking bong rips and watching the highs and lows of a hoops-playing teenage werewolf who may or may not have loved a girl named Boof.
Most of Ortolan’s detractors will probably hear something else in the lupine line. They’ll bitch and they’ll moan about how the Deadly Syndrome sound just like [insert critically acclaimed Canadian rock band] here. And they’ll point out the obvious: Richard’s knock-kneed falsetto resembles Spencer Krug, Winn Butler, Alec Ounsworth, and the rest of the many seeds that David “The O.D.B. of Indie” Byrne planted in contemporary yelp rock.
But they’re missing the point. The Deadly Syndrome aren’t trying to re-invent the Catherine Wheel, their brand of rock gladly reads from the same Canadiandie playbook as the rest: the now-familiar array of odd instrumentation including a xylophone and the accordion and the facility to frame anthems into a off-kilter ‘90s Sub Pop song structure. But, at the same time, the Deadly Syndrome make it their own, displaying a distinctly folk tilt that suggests that they’ve absorbed their share of Fairport and Fahey, in addition to the more contemporary Moon and Antarctica/In the Aeroplane Over the Sea touchstones.
Sars: A Far Worse Deadly Syndrome-
Most importantly, The Ortolan shows an inherent knack for transmitting the wild-eyed schizophrenia of the band’s notoriously frenetic stage show to the studio, a difficult task for veteran bands, let alone a bunch of former film school kids who came out of virtually nowhere to become one of Silverlake’s biggest bands in merely months. The Ortolan feels looser than most first LP’s, almost jammy at times, with not a single song clocking in at under three minutes and nearly a third crossing the five minute mark.
The record’s superficially benign instrumental patches reveal exactly why Steve Aoki was wise in dangling a record deal in front of them approximately 16 minutes after they formed (proving once again that no one is capable of resisting the fried rice at Benihana). “I Hope I Become a Ghost” rides out on a flying dust cloud of mad monk piano keys and caveman drums. “The Ship that Shot Itself” is buoyed by an ethereal accordion line that breathes and swells, fleshing out the bare-bones folk guitar line. “Emily Paints” starts out like lukewarm Hot Hot Heat but resurrects itself mid-song like a forest full of dead trees struck by lightning, burning in an orange crush-colored haze of guitars.
The Ortolan makes the typical first record mistakes, of course. Instead of ending on its arena-rock high note, “Emily Paints” tacks on a keyboard-heavy coda that works live but feels unnecessary on wax. “Hearts” commences with a few shoegaze guitars that seem thrown in just because. And the lyrics are merely passable, not yet reflecting the good sense of humor that the band has evinced in their YouTube videos promoting the record.
In the end, it often boils down to something one of my Stylus colleagues recently pointed out: if something sounds good, it is good. The Ortolan is a very good record, perhaps the finest from the batch of bands that has broken out of Silverlake in the last few years. It remains to be seen whether the Deadly Syndrome will evolve into a great band, but judging from The Ortolan’s frequent moments of excellence, I’m willing to bet its follow-up will be leagues better than Teen Wolf Too.
Download:
MP3: The Deadly Syndrome-”Eucalyptus”
MP3: The Deadly Syndrome-”Winter in You”
Posted in Album Reviews | 1 Comment »
September 23rd, 2007
Beirut’s balkan flavored Gulag Orkestrar arrived last year swept up in a maelstrom of blog-hype, a buzz so deafening and feverish that it seemed almost irresponsible. And indeed, the band’s first live performances were met with a withering criticism that failed to take into account the fact that not only was Beirut front-man/master-mind Zach Condon not old enough to drink, he looked barely old enough to shave.
Still, the hype was warranted. Gulag Orkestrar was a stunning and frighteningly mature debut. Inspired by a tour of Eastern Europe, Condon delivered an album redolent with an old world scent of strong coffee and tobacco ash flicked onto cracked cobblestone sidewalks, with the clashing, crashing beauty of balkan brass bands roaring from nearby, songs sung by a teenager blessed with a world-weary weathered baritone. And as was stated in the blogger by-laws, I drank the Kool-Aid and named Beirut the best debut of 2006.
12 months later, it’s a bit surprising to see Beirut’s name absent from the Hype Machine charts despite the fact that he’s slated to drop his sophomore effort , The Flying Club Cup, just two weeks from tomorrow. Especially considering Beirut’s new record is perhaps even more outstanding than his first. According to Condon, the album’s inspiration came from “listening to a lot of Jacques Brel and French chanson music– pop songs shrouded in big, glorious, over-the-top arrangements and all this drama– and that was in some sense unfamiliar territory to me. So I started buying new instruments and relying on things I wasn’t necessarily comfortable with, like French horns and euphoniums, carrying these big, epic big brass parts that I used to do all on trumpets, and working with accordion and organ instead of all ukulele– very much throwing myself in the world of classical pop music.”
Stylus writer Nick Southall dropped an A- on it last week and the grade is certainly warranted, as is his sentiment that “it’s a simple formula—the songs are better, the melodies more memorable, the vocals stronger, the sound richer, the arrangements more rewarding.” It’s the sort of sophomore effort to cement Beirut as being far more than just another flash-in-the-pan. And maybe by the time he’s ready to make album #3, he’ll finally need to start shaving.
From the Flying Club Cup
MP3: Beirut-”A Sunday Smile”
From the Lon Gisland EP
MP3: Beirut-”Carousels”
From Gulag Orkestrar
MP3: Beirut-”Postcards from Italy”
Posted in Album Reviews | 1 Comment »
September 14th, 2007
When the Go! Team emerged in late 2004, it finally became clear what the Avalanches had been doing for the last half decade: taking gravity bong rips, staying up all night eating Lucky Charms, and watching Season 1 of “ChiPs” and “Magnum P.I.” At least, that was the impression you got from their debut, Thunder, Lightning Strike, a sugary concoction of ‘80s cop show themes, pre-Run DMC hip-hop, and the occasional Sonic Youth guitar jag. And like the concept of getting stoned, ingesting ungodly amounts of glucose, and battling sleep to find out whether Ponch and John would nab the bad-guys and get the girl, Thunder was pretty awesome, but certainly not the sort of thing you figured to be fucking with on the regular.
But the debut aged strikingly well, with repeated listens revealing a surprising emotional resonance beneath its glazed patina of pastiche. That’s because despite what the Go! Team’s fluorescent pep rally live set might imply, Thunder was really the brain-child of a former archeology documentary filmmaker named Ian Parton recording in a bedroom in Brighton with a bunch of crappy ’80s sound equipment and an Atari, sampling everything from Wild Style to Clash documentaries to the Supremes. It was the rare record that felt out of its time but very much of it, devoid of irony, sonically inventive yet philosophically anachronistic.
Thunder managed to be a minor sensation, ultimately getting Barton and his Benetton band a whole lot of critical acclaim, licensing opportunities, and a deal with Sub Pop. Even Thomas Sullivan Magnum IV, private investigator, would’ve approved. So it’s understandable that on round #2, Parton and company would follow the Room on Fire/Antics approach and drop a short sophomore effort that further refines their singular aesthetic.
Never Trust A Man With a Mustache
Of course, there are differences between the two records, most dramatically in the sequel’s use of vocals. Whereas large swaths of Thunder was devoted to moody instrumentals, Proof of Youth bears the effect of Ninja’s increasingly prominent role within the band; something that works great in the live setting, but not so much on wax, as her rhymes seem solely from the “On and On to the Break of Dawn” school of lyricism. That said, the record’s flow isn’t hampered much: her old-school raps fit perfectly with the group’s retro vibe. Besides, nearly all the record’s vocals are drowned in a whirling haze of noise, a production technique that yields perhaps the first good Chuck D song since the title track from the He Got Game soundtrack.
The record is almost relentlessly upbeat, as though fame has gotten to Parton’s head, but instead of wanting to do normal rock star things like buying $1,000 bottles of booze to go with their $1,000 hookers, all he wants to do is rent out Rockefeller Center, invite Mike Post, Kim Gordon, and a bunch of girls playing Double Dutch on the corner and have them ice skate while Terminator X DJ’s. It’s certainly a spectacle, but not much more.
Proof of Youth is a satisfying sophomore effort, but its inability to sonically expand beyond its predecessor leaves one wondering whether album #3 will be of the ho-hum First Impressions of Earth/Our Love to Admire variety. It’s sort of like eating your second consecutive bowl of Lucky Charms. Pretty good, but a little more saccharine than you remember the first go-round being, with the accompanying sugar rush a little more dizzying and a little less pleasant. He might want to switch to Frosted Flakes next time.
Download:
MP3: The Go Team-”Grip It Like a Vice”
MP3: The Go Team-”Huddle Formation” (RJD2 Remix)
Posted in Album Reviews | 2 Comments »
September 12th, 2007
Madlib sounds better when you’re stoned. This is a pretty widely known fact, one that I have personally verified over several years of dedicated empiricism. Sure, there have been detours over the course of his eight years of rapping/producing/DJing. In particular, the Shades of Blue jazz record only sounded better if you were high and above the age of 72. But, for the most part, the Oxnard-raised man born Otis Jackson Jr. has built his rep on the symbiotic relationship between potheads and music that, to quote Jon Stewart in Half Baked, sounds better when you’re “on weed.”
Pot heads are a loyal bunch, united in a loose confederacy based on a mutual admiration of Slurpees and Sour Diesel. Perhaps the only other thing they can agree on is that they typically like songs that sound better when you’re high or songs about how good it is to be high. Preferably both. This is why Cypress Hill boasted a sterling 92 percent approval rating from high school-aged stoners from 1992 to 1998. Indeed, Hill scored points by benefiting from both the irresistible combination of B-Real’s lyrics about taking hits from the bong and the ingenious way in which Mugs flipped a Dusty Springfield sample into a stoner anthem that will last until the last bong melts from global warming-related heat sometime in the year 2254.
Madlib is the heir to the throne that Cypress vacated sometime around “Rap Superstar.” He’s the new master of dropping laid-back beats that strut with a hypnotic, head-nodding ease—beats that sound better and were presumably composed under the salubrious effects of strong California chronic. And if by some odd chance that Madlib isn’t higher than whoever conceived the idea for “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader,” he’s certainly gone out of his way to convince people otherwise, titling songs “Weeded It” and “America’s Most Blunted.” Not to mention naming an entire album Blunted in the Bomb Shelter.
Blunted in the Bomb Shelter: Great Album Title or Greatest Album Title?
Of course, making great music for stoners is never the best way to get critical respect. This is probably why Madlib’s name is rarely mentioned outside of cipher circles as one of the five best producers in hip-hop. And whenever he is mentioned, it’s always in the token underground slot, and always behind the likes of guys like Just Blaze and 9th Wonder, or newbies like Polow Da Don and DJ Toomp. Whoever they are.
But in just eight short years, Madlib has assembled one of the strongest discographies of any rapper/producer ever. From his debut under the Lootpack moniker (Soundpieces: Da Antidote) to the experimental funk/jazz/hip-hop of Yesterday’s New Quintet, to Champion Sound and Madvillain, to jazz and reggae records, Madlib is perhaps the most prolific pothead in the history of potdom, standing as living and breathing proof that Nancy Reagan was completely full of shit.
In that vein, Vol. 3 in the Beat Konducta series is another banger for the blunted set, one that will fly largely under the radar, ignored in the frenzy to lavish praise or heap derision upon another much more famous rapper/producer’s album that drops next week. Like its predecessor, last year’s similarly strong Beat Konducta Vol. 1-2: Movie Scenes, Vol. 3 scores an imaginary film. Unlike the previous collection that focused on stitching together a bunch of ridiculously listenable funk and soul samples, however, this time Madlib draws his inspiration from India, crafting a seamless 29 minute mix of looped sitars and gritty dusty drums, patches of Bollywood dialogue, and Redman vocal samples. Oriental flutes and vinyl crackle. Think of it as the hip-hop version of the sub-continental soundtrack that Thora Birch gets down to in the first scene of Ghost World.
At this point in his career, Madlib has gotten it down to a science. It’s not a complicated record. It’s not trying to be anything more than an ideal soundtrack for a night when you’ve ordered Indian takeout and want to chill out and let your mind breathe while devouring a delicious plate of Lamb Curry and Cheese Naan. I’m sure people will enjoy it sober just fine. And if you don’t, perhaps you might want to follow the prescription of Madlib’s illustrious predecessors: roll it up, light it up, smoke it up, inhale, exhale.
Originally Published at Stylus
Download:
MP3: Madlib the Beat Konducta-”Indian Deli”
MP3: Madlib the Beat Konducta-”Sitar Ride”
Posted in Album Reviews | 5 Comments »
