What's New?: 11.13.2012

Considering the world is about to end, it's a good thing I'm finally all caught up. . .

Richard Dyer-Bennet — self-titled (1956)

Folkways reissue of an initially self-issued album of traditional tunes.  Absolutely wonderful guitar throughout and a really diverse selection of tunes.  He has a way of presenting otherwise kind of bleak songs in a really pleasant, appealing way.  The album closing tune 'Turkish Revery' illustrates this nicely.  The whole album is on Spotify and it's a very engaging and nice listen.  Pretty good for a guy that sounds "prissy" (**smirk**).  #fuckallmusic

Magazine — Secondhand Daylight (1979)

Howard DeVoto was a not a very cheery fellow in these days.  Here's 'Permafrost.'  And yes, he says things that I refuse to repeat here.  But dude, ignoring his obvious social issues, musically this thing just blows Joy Division away, doesn't it?  Have a listen to the epic centerpiece (and probably Magazine's best song overall) 'Back to Nature' and judge for yourself.  Convenient now to recognize just how well they were blending Karftwerk and Roxy Music.  I can honestly say, if I had been there, I would have been a huge fan.  It's not that far ahead of its time, but it's a good two or three years so.  Glammy guitars + angsty lyrics + chilly synths= meet the future.  Bands still want to sound this passionate and fail miserably.  I venture to say it's an era we'll never see again.  Haha, they were contemporaries of Joy Division and people don't care!

Rain Tree Crow — Blackwater EP (1991)

One of the best songs ever gets the single treatment.  Yeah, it's only four tracks (three of which are on the proper album), but any chance I get to talk about this glorious and unfortunately forgotten classic, I'll take.  This long-deleted digipack single is very cool, with a four panel fold-out design and it has the one non-album track the band recorded.  Sure, I've had that song digitally for years.  But it's nice to finally have a hard copy.  If you've never heard the Rain Tree Crow album before, do yourself a favor and check it out.  It's on Spotify in full (with 'I Drink to Forget' appended!).  One of the watershed albums of British post-punk's last days, an important mark in the post-rock landscape and one of my favorite albums of all time.  David Sylvian is god.  RIP Mick Karn.

Andrew Bird — Hands of Glory (2012)

Andrew Bird is my nominee for musical MVP of the year.  As something released late in the year, with little fanfare, after the man has already released one of the year's best albums, a fantastic non-album single and has been on tour for most of the calendar year, it was not expected that he would release another thirty-five minutes of new music this soon.  Yes, there's some covers and a redo (a decidedly reserved and superior take on 'Orpheo Looks Back'), but to say that anything here is lesser or not worthy of inclusion on Break it Yourself would be an out and out lie.  This is just what the band was doing for fun during those sessions and the fact that it's just as resonating, even more folky and even more organic than the full length that birthed these sessions is just magical.  They played this, completely acoustic during the encore when I saw him earlier this year.  It plays up the Americana and theatrical spaghetti western feel that Break it Yourself seemed to imply on songs like 'Three White Horses' and 'When that Helicopter Comes' and there's another long instrumental that's a reprise of 'Three White Horses' and a showcase for Andrew's loop station, one man pocket symphonies.  Magical.  Play it immediately after Break it Yourself: gloriously colorful images of folky, technology-immersed Americana will fill your head.  Jesus christ, how much better can he get?!

Fotheringay — self-titled (1970)

I hate my rating system sometimes.  1 star = bad.  5 stars = good.  But blindly handing out a fiver to albums like this simply does not do them justice.  To understand why this gets the score it does, you need to go out, buy this album.  Look at the cover.  Read the liner notes.  Put it on your headphones, take a walk with it.  That's what I did, and. . . You know what?  I'm good.  I'm just. . . really satisfied right now.  Track one is epic and resonating.  Sandy Denny is god, too.  Alcoholic, flawed god, sure, but is there any other kind?  How can every song she sang be that gorgeous?  And yet, here's pretty much her first album under her own direction.  To say that this is probably the best album I've acquired since HB doesn't even begin to describe how good it is (because, let's face it: people still haven't really understood that one).  Previously, when I thought of "British Folk Rock", I thought Pentangle because that's the best encounter I had had with such a thing (and that itself is not far off from being the best band to ever do it).  But little did I know that there was an entire album as good as those previously only isolated Sandy Denny moments on Fairport albums.  I mean, honestly, this thing not only has some of Sandy's best songs ever, it actually gives me genuine chill-inducing, David Axelrod-esque moments of literal brilliance on 'The Pond and the Stream'.  And then it has 'Banks of the Nile' at the end!  Probably my album of the year, if dates didn't matter.  The best record I've heard in well over a year, at least.  This CD reissue contains four complimentary live tracks.  Any self-respecting music fan should get it immediately.  Even my highest praise does this no respect.  Obviously best ever.

The Louvin Brothers — Satan is Real (1959)

Probably more known for its campy cover art than its actual music, this came to my attention after I realized that the Byrds had covered a song from this album.  And guess what?  It's a darn fine harmony country album.  The title track, with its mid-song sermon, is a bit goofy, but that's pretty much the only tune here that's a misfire.  Just have a listen to the glorious harmonies on songs like 'The Kneeling Drunkard's Plea' or 'I'm Ready to go Home' and bask in their warmth.  The religious aspect doesn't really affect how well the material is played and sung — it would be good regardless.  The whole thing's on Spotify, so check it out.  Fancy guitar tone throughout the entire album as well.

Travis — Closer EP (2007)

Travis b-sides! Yay!  While I anticipate their forthcoming full length with growing impatience, I'll take a couple "new to me" songs any day!  These come from the sessions for Boy With No Name, so as that's one of my favorite albums by the band, my expectations were pretty high.  These two songs are alright.  'The Day Today' is a jubilant strummer, complete with a horn section; passable.  The good one is 'This Love' which, in its first half, sounds like the basis for 'Quite Free' and that's just fun.  One of the band's best choruses, as well.  The second half of the tune develops into a triumphant, fist-pumping, string section-enhanced anthem.  Anybody else wouldn't be able to pull it off, out of lack of sheer sincerity.  Fucking Travis: cornballs that really mean it. 

Belle and Sebastian — Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like a Peasant (2000)

Apparently, the sessions for this album were exceedingly difficult.  It splintered the band and led its leader to doubt himself for years to follow.  You'd never know that listening to the album's leadoff track.  If this band ever sees a "best of" set, that should be on it.  Where does the album lose its way, you ask?  Well, when Stuart stops directing the band and starts letting it direct itself.  A lot of it sounds like Arab Strap outtakes.  And that makes sense because it followed that album by about eighteen months.  But I'm thinking too deeply about this.  Is it good?  Yeah, definitely.  Kind of in the second tier of the band's overall catalogue, but definitely recommended if you already know you like them.  The lovely 'Waiting for the Moon to Rise' is a memorable one in that regard, while 'Don't Leave the Light On Baby' boasts string and horn charts that would make David Axelrod jealous.  Most of it has a very nice, unremarkable jangly backdrop that goes down easily, but doesn't really leave a lasting impression.

Belle and Sebastian — The Life Pursuit (2006)

In which our protagonists go exceedingly twee and seem obsessed with noticeably faster tempos and keyboards.  Not bad, obviously, but in retrospect, it very much feels like a prototype for the near perfection of the formula.  Otherwise catchy numbers like 'White Collar Boy' and 'For the Price of a Cup of Tea' seemed dragged down by such heavy handed arrangements.  When an actual vintage jangly strummer does pop up, it's pretty darned great and sticks out fairly easily because of its surroundings.  Damn good song.  There is a serious slant here towards purposely "retro" sounding arrangements and that's a gift and a curse.  Because, while the band is very good at sounding like a 60's pop act, it feels a little cheap for them to be so derivative when they had previously been so good at being unique, despite their obvious influences.  I'm mixed on this one, overall.  But it's still Stuart and the gang and it's still decent, in the larger scheme.  Nice to finally have a hard copy of it.

Fairport Convention — What We Did On Our Holidays (1969)

Obvious classic is obvious.  The album begins with 'Fotheringay' which has got to be one of the most beautiful songs ever written.  The longingly romantic way Sandy sings it, the subtle harmonies — absolute perfection.  Elsewhere, they totally own a Bob Dylan song and then Richard Thompson and Sandy duet on one of the defining songs in folk rock.  Again, my rating system sucks when it comes to albums like this.  It's purely transcendent music that will endure past most things and just get better with age.  Will be listening to this album regularly for many years to come.  Outstanding.

~Austin

Belle and Sebastian — Write About Love

Before we get started, I should just say that sometimes music is just good to the point that it cannot be articulated properly in text. Instead of sitting here talking all kinds of profanities and vague terms, I will instead make this one of my laziest reviews ever.





It kicks ass. Plain and simple. It's the band's best record since the Boy With the Arab Strap and their first album of all new material since that album that has come close to articulating why they are one of the groups that has earned their praise in the post-grunge music world. I love this band and this new album has just reiterated why permanently for me.

Pure, honest pop from one of the latter day gurus of the style.

Surely, if you're in tune to anything remotely "indie" on the internet, you've heard the album's title track —which is also one of the band's best songs in years— but I'm more concerned with "Come On Sister." Check out the lyrics:


Granted, that's just text on a screen. When Stuart sings it, it nearly aches it's so awesome.

Just... wow.

I guess it's left me speechless.

It's pretty dern good.

~Austin

Deleted Pitchork Reviews

Pitchfork Media is an online music magazine that focuses primarily on indie rock and all things "hip." I guess by the sarcasm in that first sentence you can see that I'm not especially a fan of theirs. Most of my gripes mirror the general sentiment against them — i.e. too self-referential, too self-obsessed, not really judging the music by the music, taking themselves to heart as "tastemakers" and generally abusing the title and making a mockery out of the notion of being a "music journalist."

However, all of those things and the arguments to support them are subjective.



To truly illustrate why I don't think they're a reputable and respectable outlet for music criticism, we need to look at what's not in their archives.

Yes, there have been some documented instances of this, but let's really dig for a minute.

The most obvious examples are the two deleted John Coltrane reviews for Live at the Village Vanguard and Living Space. The Living Space review says all it needs within the very first sentence: "Impulse Records has been very good to old jazz albums." And then, the Village Vanguard review is just over-the-top silly enough to successfully fuel the "Is Pitchfork racist?" argument on its own. Besides fully articulating a perfect case of Pitchfork overstepping its bounds into music they clearly don't know dick about, it's reviews like that that also perpetuate the stereotype of jazz fans as snobs. It's almost as if Ryan Shreiber has moved so far past the point of parody, past the point of irony, past any sort of logical motivation in reviewing these albums that, unwillingly, he has himself become the thing he's presumably making fun of (and why is he making fun? — also deserving of an answer).

But those reviews are of jazz; a genre that most people would probably agree Pitchfork has no business discussing in the first place. Disastrous reviews like this are not embarrassments. Some may argue that they're an outright expectation when Pitchfork tackles such subjects.

But what about when Pitchfork goofs when reviewing something that's supposed be from their base? Something that they have portrayed themselves to be the authority of?

Save Ferris arguably falls under this umbrella because it's at least rock music, but we need concrete proof, don't we?

Something on an indie label. Something not widely known, but still likable. Something that was arguably spiraling out of "critically acclaimed" control at the time.

Well, here's one: a score of 0.8 for Belle and Sebastian's masterpiece album The Boy With the Arab Strap.

The review is dated as being from October of 1998, so that would've been right around the time Rolling Stone gave the album a fairly good review (coincidentally, Rolling Stone has deleted the review from their website archives, too; but anybody with an old print copy can confirm). So, if something is being co-signed by Rolling Stone, it has officially become uncool, indie label or no. It has officially become too popular to like at that point, right?

This is the only logic I can follow here, as the album is now a clearly acknowledged band classic and darn fine affair in general. Pitchfork's criticism is that the band has lowered themselves to self-parody on the album.

(which is silly to most B&S fans, as it's pretty much the band doing that one thing that they do best for 45 minutes straight; arguably creating their most consistent album — more a case of creative fertility, if you ask me)

Of course, I pick on this particular review because I don't especially like that they gave it a poor review. After all, they've also done away with their review of the Tigermilk reissue — which gives a positive score, amongst some sort of impenetrable 'concept' review that the site has become infamous for. But the point here is: the Arab Strap review was completely off base and unmerited. They must have known this. Why isn't it still on the proper site?

I suspect this was deemed an acceptable review after the band released a couple of so-so albums. But in recent years, after Dear Catastrophe and the Life Pursuit (a pair of unarguably strong albums — even according to Pitchfork, earning respective scores of 7.5 and 8.5), I suppose they thought that one of the lowest ratings they've ever given was too harsh for one of the band's best albums (if not their flat out best).

And furthermore, it's one of the albums that established the foundation of the sound and style that many of Pitchfork's most loved bands built upon.

(food for thought: just imagine if the album had been released on the Elephant 6 label. . .)

The fact that it's not there anymore leads me to believe the review was removed because they knew it was a great record all along. What other conclusions am I to arrive at?

If this is what it's come to, we can all just revise history whenever we please and shape scenes and opinions in retrospect, according to contemporary thoughts.

But is that really ok?

~Austin

PS — I know there's more. Please leave links to other now-deleted reviews in the comments, if you feel so compelled.