What's New?: 7.3.2013

Continuing on. . . and on. . . and on. . .

The Appleseed Cast — Illumination Ritual (2013)

It's a strange time to be an Appleseed Cast fan. Their dreamy cascades of cymbals and guitars is still present on their first album in four years, but the only original member left is singer and creative center Chris Crisci. Aaron Pillar and John Momberg's respective farewells are now relegated to the stopgap Middle States EP from two years ago. And while Aaron's inimitable guitar style is definitely missed on Illumination Ritual (things definitely take a turn in a more angular direction), this album still manages to sound like the Appleseed Cast. Except, they're really fast now. There is a very much an upswing in tempos this time around and that's a catch twenty-two, because while the songs definitely have riffs and hooks that are great, it almost feels like the whole album is just one long song, because the tempos don't vary much. Still, it sounds an awful lot like Mare Vitalis, and that's fantastic because that's not only an album I love, it's also the one where I feel like they were doing great pop songs when you stripped away all the effects and noise. So, here: 'Cathedral Rings.' It's an emotionally charged, dynamic, anthemic, fist-pumping, rock-and-fucken-rolling masterpiece. Probably their best all around song since the Peregrine days, at very least. Side two of the album contains a very epic Low Level Owl-esque two-fer that was probably intended to be the big centerpiece of the album with 'Barrier Islands (Do We Remain?)' morphing into 'North Star Ordination.' It's definitely a highlight, in a classic-sounding Appleseed sort of way. Throw in a couple instrumentals, and we're done. Overall, it's Chris delivering a by-the-numbers Appleseed Cast record and trying to give us (the fans) what he thinks we want. Little does he know, I will like whatever he does as long as he's leading with his heart and not trying to rehash past glories. I'm extra critical of this stuff because they are one of the best things currently going. And besides, as the proper full length follow up to Sagarmatha, it was going to be hard to top that one. I just wish Aaron's departure from the band wasn't so glossed over.

Bob Dylan — Dylan (1970)

Generally regarded as Bob's "worst" album, it's also generally accepted that he was trying to piss off fans when he recorded it. It was mostly recorded during the same sessions for Self Potrait and, just like that album has an unmerited bad reputation, after fully digesting this one, I have to say it falls into the same category (some of the album consists of outtakes from the unimpeachable classic New Morning). There are no originals here, but the things Bob does with tunes like 'Mr. Bojangles' and 'Big Yellow Taxi' are fascinating and ultimately they feel less like someone making fun of them and more like someone just screwing around. There's a very nice folk pop sheen to the production and I have a really hard time not playing the whole album whenever I listen to it. Certainly not his best work, but this is just an alright album, where he would commit near atrocities in the future.

Atoms for Peace — Default (2013)

B-side action from one of the year's most pleasant surprises. The a-side was definitely a grower for me and it appears here in an instrumental version alongside the non-album doodle of a song 'What the Eyeballs Did.' It's one of the AfP songs where Flea's bass playing is front and center and it's all the better for it. Nice to hear more from these guys.

Cocteau Twins — Otherness (1995)

I've had this guy digitally for many years, but it's always nice to find hard copies of these sorts of things. It's essentially a remix EP wherein Robin and Liz try to make some older songs kind of ambient dancey. Not a total success, but not a waste of time either. The highlight is the super blissed out, very nearly psychedelic, drumless retake of 'Cherry Coloured Funk.' Well done on that one, you lot.

Morrissey — The HMV/Parlophone Singles '88-'95 (late 80's/early 90's)

A lot of this was not new to me. In fact, about 90% of it wasn't. But, for a few of these b-sides (and even a couple of the a-sides), they appeared on the British singles and nothing else. So, they were out of print for many years until these things came out.  But forget it: those were too expensive and way too bulky for me.  This guy squeezed out a few years ago under my radar and it's those two sets slimmed down to three CDs: the perfect package.  Way too many Moz classics (and just plain old musical classics) to start naming names, so I'll just run down the list of things I liked that I didn't already know.  'Journalists Who Lie' is about as awesome as it can get when you look at the title and then consider that the song could be described as "cartoon rockabilly."  'Pregnant for the Last Time' is more fake rockabilly fun, while tunes like 'You've Had Her' and 'I'd Love To' are the sort of cascading introspective mini-epics that find Steve dropping the rockstar façade and singing these full on heartachingly genuine masterpieces.  I guess I understand why he's hidden them away and basically assigned them to obscurity status in his own catalogue.  I mean I do but I don't.  The frustration of being a Morrissey fan.  Top tunes, whatever the case.

Morrissey — Beethoven Was Deaf (1993)

Morrissey's best band rocking out for a bunch of Frenchies. There's a sense to this live album that it was meant to be a big grand assertion of dominance —and, in retrospect, it most certainly is— but, at the time it was virtually ignored in the shadow of the near smear campaign being launched at Steve in the British music press (not to mention: this album has still never been released in America). Oh well, by the wayside went definitive versions of essential Moz classics (the rockabilly-ed up 'Sister I'm A Poet', the flawlessly rambunctious run through of 'The Loop' and the version of 'Jack the Ripper' that's so good it makes the studio version seem like a sick joke).  Of course, all of the then-Moz calling cards are present as well, but it's the diversity and the tension in the setlist that really makes this one a complete and total classic.  It's an album that I've known for several years, but it feels like such a relief to finally have a hard copy of my own.  Where in later years, Morrissey released live things for fan benefit only, this one actually feels like it belongs in the strange saga of Morrissey's creative trajectory.  And, of course, it doesn't hurt that they play a totally kickass version of my favorite Morrissey song.

Q and Not U — Different Damage (2002)

Totally great DC indie guys.  Noisy and political and shouty and spastic and inexplicably funky — it's only now, a decade later, that I can really understand that they were one of the first of the new wave revival that hit hard in the early 2000's.  This was the band's second album (and a lot of folks would say their best) and it's just a wonderfully angry and varied record.  The first track is probably the highlight, but side two of the album plays less like a group of songs and more like a sidelong suite whose whole is greater than the sum of its parts.  It's definitely an album that sounds best when you take the whole thing in at once.  It's too bad they quit after their poppier follow up album; truly a band that had something different to say.

R.E.M. — Strange Currencies (1995)

This Monster single had absolutely no chance at the charts, but it still managed to crack the top 40.  It's definitely one of the more conventional R.E.M. moments on that album.  But the real reason this single was released was so the band could get some live recordings for the one-off show they did in support of Automatic for the People out there (it's a now nearly forgotten piece of trivia that the band did not tour in support of their most famous album).  There's a super juicy rockin' version of 'Drive', a silly Iggy Pop cover  (where Michael inexplicably declares after the final chorus, "Dracula was pretty good, but it wasn't quite as gory and violent as they said it would be") and that finally morphs into a seriously rocked up 'Radio Free Europe.'  Well worth hearing, even if only for historical purposes (the music just so happens to be great as well).  Would love to see the entire show released.

Heat waves suck.

~Austin

In a bit of a bad way tonight.

But I just want to say: I haven't been away. I am still right here, where I always was. So one day, if you're bored, by all means call. Because you can do, but only if you want to.

Other musings:


Off to bed!

~Austin

MOIRA WAS HERE

Morrissey — Southpaw Grammar and Maladjusted Deluxe Editions

Well, let's be honest right off the bat, I am so much more excited for these new deluxe editions than I am for Years of Refusal. While that album continues in the line of the latest Morrissey studio album revival —that is to say, overproduced batches of some of his best and worst material— these new deluxe editions are the real deal: misunderstood middle period works, now revised to unveil the undoubtedly definitive versions of the albums as the man originally intended them.


Let's just get right into it: I hated Southpaw Grammar for a long time. It was, unconditionally, my least favorite Moz album. I mean, even Kill Uncle had 'Sing Your Life' and Maladjusted had 'Alma Matters.' But this album had nothing. The long-ass downtrodden first track that —in a super cynical move, even suspicious when Moz is saying it— declares "To be finished would be a relief." I mean, how is that ok?

But guess what?

The sticker on the album packaging advertises this as the album 'as Morrissey intended it' and, after a few listens, it feels like the way it should have been all along. Truly, I never knew that, in that tangled mess of drum solos, overtly crunchy guitars and superfluous buildups there was a damn fine Morrissey record looming.

First of all, as this was supposed to be a real noisy rock and roll album in the same vein as Your Arsenal (Moz' best album; Smiths or otherwise), on this new deluxe edition, there's an outtake from that album called 'Fantastic Bird.' Sure, it may have been a second tier track at the time, but in 2009, that doesn't matter. Now it's from a period in Morrissey's career that can be properly assigned as his most productive, and thus, his most analysis-worthy. Its Mick Ronson-produced crunchiness was the perfect pre-cursor for what was to become Southpaw Grammar. Not only does it fit in perfectly here, it exposes that, contrary to my opinion all these years, the album did not, in fact, come from out of nowhere.

The re-sequencing does wonders for the album, placing its catchiest moments up front and burying the deeper cuts for later on when things have settled for a bit. In other words, the new sequencing actually has a grasp on what album sequencing should be. The first three tracks, hands down, are right on par with anything he'd done previously. It's just that the original sequencing would never have you know this, placing these tracks in the most awkward places on the record. And man, is it just me, or does 'Nobody Loves Me' just completely kick total ass as the closer? Makes it sound as epic a closer as 'Speedway' or 'Margaret On the Guillotine.'

I still love 'The Operation' despite the completely pointless two minute drum intro. But again, this edition of the album rectifies even that, as Moz articulately defends his reasoning behind its inclusion in the brilliant liner notes. Seriously, if you thought his lyrics were literary, just wait until you read what he has to say in prose. I absolutely cherished reading every syllable of these newly composed liner notes. I know it shouldn't matter, but hearing the artist's reasoning and back experiences behind the music really helps me view it in an entirely new light and achieve a new appreciation for it.

The Maladjusted issue differs slightly, as I never really disliked the album all along. I've always thought it was too samey, hits that 'distortionary melodic swirl' a little too consistently. But this new version, with its "new" songs randomly inserted into a revamped running order, once again, rectifies its original version through sequencing. The "new" songs —all of which are nowhere near as loud and raucous— are inserted perfectly into (mostly) the album's second half, reviving the affair and making it over from a previously hazy and samey swirl into a dynamic and ambitious second half. The new highlight and centerpiece of the album is revealed in 'This Is Not Your Country.' A meditative rant (if such a thing exists) grows into a poignant melodic statement. It not only makes you wonder what else Moz has in his vaults of equal prestige, it makes you agressively wonder why this was held back so long.

My only complaint is the exclusion of 'Roy's Keen' and 'Papa Jack' —two moments that provided some much needed quiter melodicism— and the further inclusion of Moz' ridiculous anti-Mike Joyce rant 'Sorrow Will Come in the End.'

This revision does improve the album, but not nearly as much as the Southpaw Grammar's new revision does. Still, an improvement is an improvement.

Truly, if this current bombardment of deluxe and expanded editions was supposed to make us go back re-evaluate the music —and most of those by other artists failing miserably, only being a a mere cash-in to get us to buy the albums again with sporadically worthwhile extras— these deluxe editions have truly succeeded. I have a new found respect for these albums; once written off and disregarded. I look forward to listening to them —and reacquainting myself with them all over again— throughout the summer, and perhaps longer.

Well done, Patrick.

~Austin

Top Five: The Inaugural Edition

So, as a way to keep myself involved in writing on this blog and have a fun entertaining way have a reason to spout off, I'm starting a new series of posts. In a tribute to one of the most music nerdy movies ever made (High Fidelity, of course), I'm going to start doing Top Five lists every few days. The topics may seem esoteric or random, but I will try to keep them as interesting (and maybe even entertaining) as possible. There won't be a designated update day or time; simply whenever I feel like it. But expect at least a couple each week.

So, for today's topic, we'll start with something fairly simple and something close to my heart: the Top Five post-acid house/"Madchester" Manchester albums.

Countdown style.... here we go...

#5 — Oasis — The Masterplan (1998)

Ah, what a copout, they may say right off the bat. He put a fookin' b-sides compilation instead of a proper album. Yep, I suck because this, in my brain, is the finest Oasis album. But I like them ballads these boys be playin'. And, whoo boy, are there a bunch of great ones on here. You betcha.

#4 — Doves — Lost Souls (2000)

A fine introductory effort (or, re-introductory if you count Sub Sub), this album introduces these guys' intricate, Robert Smith-like layered style of songwriting and epic scope in one fell swoop. An album that grows and grows in stature with each listen, it has taken me years to fully appreciate it, but I think I'm finally there. In a rare occurance, the American version had bonus tracks. Cool.

#3 — Morrissey — Your Arsenal (1992)

Holy crap, did Morrissey let the dogs out on this one, or what? I sometimes have foolish moments of weakness and ridiculous nostalgia rembering seeing 'The More You Ignore Me, the Closer I Get' on MTV in the summer of 1994 and start to think that maybe Vauxhall & I is his best album, but then the ghost of Mick Ronson comes over and plays the lead riff from Ziggy Stardust in my face and I realize that, yes indeed, Your Arsenal is the finest album that Morrissey has stamped his name on. It is all of the following: his catchiest work, his hardest rocking work, his most personal work, his most scattered work and his most irreverently funny work. Whoo, this album rules.

#2 — New Order — Technique (1989)

One of the first albums to come out of Manchester in the initial aftermath of the 'Madchester' explosion, it's also one of the finest. I've said forever that this is one of the top ten or so albums of the 80's and everyone I say that to kind of gives me the shifty eye afterwards. But listen to the record and you can hear shreds of influence it's left on (and is still leaving on) countless bands ever since. Besides that though, the songs are top notch. There's not a bad one in the bunch. You know an album is delicious when the singles are the worst tracks on the album.

#1 — The Chameleons — Why Call It Anything? (2002)

As if you didn't see that coming! This is the Chams' best album. It is their most well-rounded, hardest rocking and best executed album. It sumarizes all of the best things about the band's old material and picks up on the directions the bands they influenced started and takes that direction into a special place. No singles, no b-sides. Just nine of the finest songs to ever come out of Manchester. A fitting and redemptive conclusion to their career.

Stay tuned for next time... it should be fun...

~Austin