#aj junop

[hearseedaily]

SEE: ‘Accepted’

This movie starring Justin Long could be writtren off as just another semi-teenage-comedy-pseudo-sex romp (minus the sex.) Fluff might be another way to describe it. But I have never felt that way about this film.

Quite the opposite really — I have always been somewhat inspired by ‘Accepted.’ And this scene, as contrived as you might think it is, is represenative of the idea that you can look at the work differently to get the things you want and need. 

As a matter fact, it is suggesting that you do have to tilt your head sideways a little to see things in a different light and to follow your dreams. 

Mister Gaines is right. Do we have to conform to the world that is presented to us or can we create our own universe and mold it to the way we want to live? 

I might not run off and start my own college tomorrow. But nothing is going to stop me from from making the changes I need to make today.

[coldfade]

Temples ‘Shelter Song’

  (MIKE) Since picking up my first copy of Circus magazine at age 13, I’d estimate I’ve read at least a million music reviews… if not more. Over the years, I’ve manufactured a list of favourite reviewers: Lester Bangs, Robert Christgau, Jenny Eliscu, Chuck Eddy, David Fricke and Rob Sheffield. I can instantly recognize who is writing what even before I glance at the by-line. The best reviewers bring their own style and personality to everything they write. So why is it that, after reading so many reviews and studying the masters to recognize what's right about their style, I find writing reviews so demanding?  Sometimes it is extremely challenging to find my own voice when writing. All of this brings me back to the subject of influences. You’ve mentioned before, AJ, that reviewers often lean on comparisons to help find a deeper meaning in the artist or the song or the album that they are writing about. That being said, with the very first chord of the Temples "Shelter Song", there's no chance I can think of anything other than the fact that this British band LOVES the Beatles in their late psychedelic period!

  (AJ) When it comes to writing, I think you might have clobbered the critical nail on the noggin. Sure I have been busy but any excuse is just an excuse for procrastination for me and that has always been my case when it came to my writing – especially when writing about music.

  That’s what I liked about being on the radio for so many years. I could say what I had to say and move on. I thought about it… I acted upon it… and I got on with my day. Writing affords me the opportunity to dwell. I live in a world of deadlines – and without one, without a date and a time when something is due… without a song winding down and the need to key on a mic in a couple of precious seconds, I am left to my own devices and my own overwrought thoughts about what I might think about something.

  You say you are having a hard time finding your critical writing voice? I am having a hard time trusting mine. I worry about whether I should like something or not. I wonder if I know enough to make those precious comparisons. I’m curious if I have a right to say the things that flash in my brain pan.

  But hell, if I could blurt them out on the radio for 20+ years, why can’t I just share what I think and what I feel on digital paper? (That’s rhetorical. The answer is dust in the wind.)

  So here we go:

  Temples=Psychedelia.

  You are so right. And this is something that ‘Shelter Song’ and the accompanying purple and yellow kaleidoscope video are not trying to hide. There is definitely a Beatles influence here along with early Stones, The Byrds, The Yardbirds, Strawberry Alarm Clock, and even The Grateful Dead and Jefferson Airplane – not that any of that is a bad thing.

  What is interesting is how fresh this vintage sound sounds. Remember, this is coming from a guy who might have been a little too young to appreciate psychedelic rock in the sixties first hand but I’ve listened to and played enough of the stuff in my musical past to appreciate how the genre contributed to the growing music scene of our youth.

  But what was an ‘era’ and a ‘genre’ 40-years ago could be looked at as a ‘gimmick’ today. ‘Shelter Song’ is immediately infectious but do you think Temples could be considered too narrow of musical scope in today’s world of downloadable experimental sounds? (Keep in mind, as I write this, I have not yet wandered into the green garden of YouTube to sample more Temples blossoms.)

  (MIKE) That garden is worth a frolic, AJ. They've been around a couple of years but are just now getting around to releasing their debut album. In fact, "Shelter Song" appears on that album but was actually released as a single back in 2012. In everything they do, Temples constantly wear their influences on their sleeves. But I don't think it is gimmicky. No, I suspect they have a true reverence for the psychedelic era, with the swirling, jingle-jangle guitars, the mounds of reverb surrounding the vocals and everything else… and of course the oblique lyrics. They do it well. Really well. Temples bring to mind early Jesus and Mary Chain (though they don't really sound anything like them) in the way their wall of sound envelops you, drawing you in and leaving you confused and breathless when it's all over. It is an all-encompassing atmosphere that's hard to escape. I'm not that much older than you but I was around to appreciate this sound's first arrival – essentially through the influence of my much older brother and sisters. The music of the Beatles and The Strawberry Alarm Clock, along with the Doors and the early Rolling Stones, were some of the first songs I ever sang out loud as a young tot. I carried that through to my teen years and into adulthood. But as a middle-aged man, I try not to look back too often, at risk of being the one who tells stories of walking 10 miles to school, uphill both ways, when the price of gas was the same as a package of Popeye candy cigarettes!

  I don't think I will ever be the one who says "music just isn't the same as in the good old days" and then spend the rest of my life listening to Classic Rock radio.

  Like you, I appreciate much of what I heard and loved in my formative years, but also look forward to fresh takes on music today and in the future. And "Shelter Song" is, to me, a fresh take on psychedelia, updated for an age during which technology not only brings us our music so fast but also makes it so much easier for artists like Temples to create great sounds. Can you imagine the work the Beatles and George Martin had to put in to create a similar sound back in 1967?

  (AJ) We have certainly seen Paul McCartney enjoy some success thanks in part to social media and this music-on-demand world that we live in. And it would have been fascinating to hear what John Lennon would have done with today’s technology. But for me, sometimes too much of the past is… well, just a little too much. Let me give you an example of where my head is at right now.

  There was a time in high school, while all of my friends lived on a steady diet of classic Zepplin, Hall and Oates and a fairly new band called U2, I was bouncing back and forth between REM, The Smiths, and Billy Bragg --- an eclectic mix I know.

  Bragg was interesting in the sense that I was the only person in my world who knew who the hell he was. But I didn’t listen to Bragg to rebel against the mainstream. I listened because just one song caught my ear and wouldn’t let go – “The Milkman of Human Kindness.”

  Flash forward 30-years. I was at work listening to what YouTube suggested I should listen to. That meant lots of World Party, The Cult and low and behold – Billy Bragg. But I didn’t just revisit Milkman. I repeatedly played some of his newer stuff too – in particular “The Handyman Blues” and “No One Knows Nothing Anymore.”

  Bragg has evolved. And like The Pixies who I recently had the great fortune to see live at The Orpheum in Vancouver, he too is sounding better now than he ever did before.

  Long story longer, you can listen to your past only so much before your brain screams for something fresh and new.

  I agree that Temples profoundly and expertly represent and revisit (and respect) the psychedelic era with Shelter Song along with “Keep It In the Dark” and “Mesmerise.” I really enjoyed listening to them. And the kaleidoscope clips on YouTube were a hoot too! But for now, I’m done.

  I appreciate what the band is doing. And I enjoyed listening to and learning more about these guys. But for now I have to say I’m finished. “Been there – done that” so to speak.

  As for your writer’s voice Mike, don’t worry. I hear you loud and clear. You speak a passionate truth that no one can deny. That is your style. It’s timeless. And I need to learn to trust my voice. We both need to remind ourselves to continue to be honest and unmerciful.

  I am curious though. What do you think Lester Bangs would have to say about these guys?

[coldfade]

Lydia Loveless ‘Boy Crazy’

(MIKE) The other day I realized, after walking the dog and listening to Holly Williams' great "The Highway" and then returning home and cranking up the new Neko Case, that Cold Fade hadn't looked at anything by a female singer yet (other than Dolly in her duet with Kenny). Back in 2011, Lydia Loveless wrote a song called "Steve Earle" so you know she can't do much wrong in my eyes!

(AJ) A song about a stalker that just happens to look like someone famous? That’s a dangerous concept. And an idea I wish I would have come up with!

I committed the first sin of reviewing music when I started listening to Lydia Loveless’s ‘Boy Crazy.’ I was trying too hard to figure out who she sounded like. Neko Case? Emily Haines? Jenny Lewis of Rilo Kiley?

One of the reasons reviewers like comparisons is that it gives you something to relate to if you have never heard of the featured artist before. That’s valid but it’s a crutch. (Note: It is a crutch that I will lean on again!)

But I quickly realized it didn’t matter who I thought she sounded like. I just knew that I liked her sound.

A lot.

So who was I listening to? To Wikipedia I go again where one of the first things that pops out to me is something that Loveless said in The Chicago Tribune:

“I get the 'next Neko Case' or 'not as good as Neko Case' thing all the time. Hopefully I can write songs in the future that don't make it so easy to be compared to anyone else.”

It would seem that Loveless has done just that with ‘Boy Crazy.’

The song starts like a statement and builds quickly driving you straight to infectious-town. As for Loveless writing something that won’t “make it so easy” for her to be compared to anyone else – with lines like:

“I wish I was his wife – not really though”

…she’s done just that. But it’s not just the line. It’s how Loveless sings it – all in one breathless breath. What a fantastic statement of love and lust and wanting and independence.

For me, ‘Boy Crazy’ is a song about impulse and our natural leanings to not just do what we want but to do what we have to do. To do the things that you can’t help but think and do. Nor do you want help. It’s like a musical permission slip to be as bad as you need to be.

We have been listening to a lot of music that can be described as sounding “big” – and the voice and the ideas and the attitude that spills from Loveless is just as big (if not bigger) than anything we have talked about on Cold Fade so far. And all this is coming from an early 20-something year old who is just trying to distinguish herself in a genre that might not be as comfortable or as friendly as it could be.

What do you call Loveless’ sound? Alt.Punk.Country? That works. Yet there is something rebelliously traditional about Loveless. I guess if I had to fault her for anything, it would be that her sound sometimes has the tendency to drown out her sound. I want to hear ever damn word she has to share.

You listen to this song and you begin to realize that all Loveless needs in life are her wit and her wits – so she definitely has it all. ‘Boy Crazy’ is a love song with a catch. The catch is that love is only a small part of the equation. Loveless is giving you permission to be boy crazy or crazy for whatever it is that makes you crazy – not that you need permission. But it’s sort of nice when you have it.

What does this song give you permission to do?

(MIKE) I think most of all this song gives me permission to shake my head, stomp my feet and play air guitar like a wild man, holding that one note that sustains into a beautiful tone of distortion!

What strikes me most about Lydia Loveless is how much different she comes across on record from that of her image. This song is aggressive to the N-th degree – yet when you look at her, she seems to be this tiny pixie with big, doe-like almond eyes. Her look is far from aggressive, so this track stands in stark contrast.

In "Boy Crazy", Lydia Loveless is out of control. She can't help herself. And she can't help but be herself. She describes "him" as wearing jeans "that sit just below his hipbone" and looking like he's seventeen – even though he's twenty-nine! It's a table-turning taking place here – a young woman objectifying an older man. Yes, she wants to "see what his house looks like" but she doesn't want to live in it with him! No. She wants to see it so she can keep him in the back of her mind. Do I need to imagine what she is doing when she has him in the back of her mind?

‘Boy Crazy’ itself is so beautifully out of control. It begins with a chord that reminds me of The Beatles ‘Hard Day's Night’ – a classic song from a movie about four guys with lives completely out of their own control. Then the bass line comes in, acting as the foundation, the only part of the song that is not to run amok for the remaining four minutes. The guitar chords build slowly to distorted peaks, burning from one into another, while the drummer doesn't so much keep a beat as provide an accent to each crashing climax. And her drawl throughout this song is both perfectly punk and perfectly country at the same time. It’s 240-seconds of complete, exquisite chaos.

And yes, there are some comparisons to be made between Lydia Loveless and artists like Neko Case and one of my favourites, Maria McKee of Lone Justice. But I'm not sure I've ever heard anything like this song – anywhere!

(AJ) Oh, I forgot about Lone Justice! Their self-titled debut in 1985 was brilliant! I'm listening to it right now!

Going back to something that we have both blatantly suggested throughout this conversation, Lydia Loveless is dangerous. And maybe that is something we are sorely missing in music today.

Her slightly (only slightly) conventional unassuming look is a disguise for a rebel and a misfit who wants to challenge us with the songs she sings and the ideas that we might not volunteer to think about until she plants those thoughts deep in our brains. That’s her wonderful essence of danger.

I arranged to have CBC personality George Stroumboulopoulos talk with my group of broadcasting students and he said something that really stuck with me – that there are no bad guys in music anymore. Where are the new Jim Morrisons and Mick Jaggers and Joe Strummers and Joan Jetts of the world? The list can go on and on – but the bulk of this list lives in the past.

If I were to start a list for the future, I definitely think that Lydia Loveless’ name could take a place of honour on that roll call – in a good and dangerous way of course.

[coldfade]

Arcade Fire ‘Reflektor’

(Mike) I have to begin by stating that I have not been a rider on the Arcade Fire bandwagon since the beginning. I did buy their first three releases – almost out of a sense of obligation to their importance as a ‘Canadian’ band on the world scene.

But I have never completely warmed up to "Funeral", "Neon Bible" or "The Suburbs". To me, all three were interesting releases but were missing ‘a warmth’ that I craved. I loved what Arcade Fire was doing in their videos, taking that art form to a new, interactive level. But the songs often left me with a cold, empty feeling. I guess you could say I paid my fare but didn't jump on for the ride.

Having said that, ‘Reflektor,’ though not full of that warmth, is breaking new ground for me as a listener to this band. Their musicianship seems to have reached Talking Heads-like quality, exhibiting a willingness to take new chances with rhythms, instrumentation, and lyricism – as shown in Regine Chassagne singing in French throughout this song.

It's propelled by a dark, driving beat that, even without a chance to watch the intriguing video (or to participate in the interactive version) gives you a feeling of watching a David Lynch film. This is a moody, foreboding song about life and death, and the connections in between those two worlds. Has the route to heaven been found, or is it just a reflection? I have already warmed up to this track in a way I have not previously been able to with this band.

Much has been said already about the influence of a trip to Haiti taken by Win Butler and by Regine Chassagne (who is of Haitian lineage.) I don't particularly hear that in this track. But what I do hear is David Bowie's influence.

Bowie has admitted that he provided backing vocals on ‘Reflektor,’ and though it is difficult to pick out his voice, you can certainly hear a blast of his 80s inspiration. In fact, Alexis Petridis of The Guardian writes that the new disc is obviously a tribute to Bowie's Scary Monsters album. And Chris Richards of The Washington Post refers to Win Butler "pulling on David Byrne's oversized blazer" on another song on the CD.

Hmm. David Bowie... Talking Heads… Two ultra-80's comparisons for a very modern rock band. What do you make of that, AJ?

(AJ) I’ll take your eighties observances and trump you with a seventies card. And I’m not just talking about the mirrored disco ball that lights Arcade Fire’s way through a fascinating fun video.

When you asked me what we should talk about next on Cold Fade, I suggested ‘Reflektor’ qualifying my choice with a sheepish “because I don’t really know what I think about this song yet.” Even after a couple of listens and jotting down a few notes, I am still not sure. I am hoping that the process of writing this post will help me explore my ambivalence and allow me to get back to my more usual decisive self.

So far, I do know this:

I don’t love this song.

I don’t hate this song.

I’m not sure how this song makes me feel.

And before I could tell anyone what song you and I would be exploring next, I had three people including Kerry (my wife) suggest that we give ‘Reflecktor’ a spin because all of them really liked it.  (Interestingly, none of these people were big Arcade Fire fans before ‘Reflektor.’ Again, it wasn’t a hate-thing. It was just that, despite the Grammy win, the band wasn’t on their musical radar.)

It would seem that you and I were rocking the same musical boat (as opposed to being on the Arcade Fire bandwagon) when it came to what this Canadian ‘supergroup’ from Montreal had produced in the past. Sadly, you could probably play almost anything from these guys for me and I might not be able to tell you who they were. That feels embarrassing to admit. I feel like I should turn in my passport and move to Buffalo. (There is one exception to my moronic rule: I really did enjoy “Keep the Car Running’ from ‘Neon Bible.’ I suppose I am being too cliché when I said that the song had a style and a rhythm that kept me going for the entire 3:29 but so be it.)

I do like ‘Reflektor’s’ big full sound. Right from the beginning, there is no doubt that Win and company are not messing around and that they have a story to share. Rhythmically, the song immediately catches you with subtle genre-shifting changes and soaring ethereal vocals. I too couldn’t help but reflect a little after hearing their “If this is heaven…” line. And in the end, after listening to the song and watching the video and hearing and reading what others have to say – I have the upmost respect for the big talents and supreme artistic attitudes that make up this group and create such a complete cohesive sound. But I still don’t fell a personal emotional connection to the song.

Is it that the song sounds too big? No. I don’t think so. On the contrary, I think I might be disappointed by anything less from these guys. Even at seven-plus minutes, I don’t feel the need or desire to fast forward and skip to the end. The song stays fresh minutes past what could have been its expiry date. As a matter of fact, I love the ‘to be continued’ kind of feel to the end of ‘Reflektor.’ It makes me think there is more to say and that’s a good thing.

But it’s taken a lot of listens to train my cluttered brain to even recall the tuneful chorus.

(Mike) It is a BIG song, even taking into account that little 7-note piano-plinking motif that takes over just past the half-way point. Perhaps this ‘bigness’ is the reason why the band has now stirred up some controversy over their directive that fans dress formally at their shows. The request seems to have ticked some people off. I mean, an arena is not really the place you want to go dressed formally these days. Apparently, Win Butler has said the fancy clothes will improve the chances of Arcade Fire's fans getting laid! Somehow, I have never equated Arcade Fire's music with an increased chance of that, but maybe I've been missing something. I'll have to throw on my old baby-blue tux and slip on the whole CD to see if this works for me tonight.

As for you not recognizing the music of this Canadian ‘supergroup’ on early listens, it brings to mind a point that has irked me a bit since they hit the big time. Yes, I know they "formed" in Montreal, and they bought an old church in Quebec to record in. And yes, Regine Chassagne is Canadian and grew up in La Belle Province. But is this band really, truly Canadian?

Its principal songwriter, lyricist and de-facto band leader Win Butler, was born in Texas and raised in New Hampshire. His brother shares that background and is another member of Arcade Fire. I guess its okay to take them on as our own, and to be proud of their success on the world stage, but it all rings a little less true to me.

Anyway, back to the song. The more I listen to it, the more I love it. In fact, I got in the car this morning on my way to work and stumbled upon the song about two minutes in. I realized instantly that this is one of those tunes that I can recognize at any point and enjoy thoroughly no matter where or when I joined in.

And it's one of those songs whose hook will stay with me for the rest of the day – no matter what else I listen to between then and when I retire for the evening. I know when I lay my head on that pillow tonight, I will be singing "It's just a reflector…" to myself over and over and over. It's musical candy for me.

(AJ) You’ll have to let me know how the whole “tux” experiment worked. On the other hand… don’t.

My lack of ‘love’ for the song also places it in the “musical candy” category for me. And I agree that the minute you hear even a little bit of ‘Reflektor,’ you can instantly stand-up at the top of Mt. Robson and yell “That’s Arcade Fire! I know it is!” But candy is sweet and eventually dissolves to nothing. Even the sugar rush wears off in the end leaving you with not-a-lot to show for the treat. And that’s why ‘Reflektor’ is still a ‘like’ and not a ‘love’ for me.

One of the three who recommended that we talk about ‘Reflektor’ suggested that what I need to do is listen to the entire album. I agree. I miss those days of listening to a CD or a cassette (especially when I was driving in my “running” car) or even an LP from beginning to end; and taking-in the band’s science of flow and order. To me, Arcade Fire is more than the songs they produce. Their work harkens back to a day when concepts and themes were a bigger part of the greater scheme of things.

So for now, while you sit comfortably on the Arcade Fire bandwagon, I’ll continue to walk along side wearing a giant papier-mâché head listening to Bowie and Byrne on my iPhone.

[coolgoatmusic]

John Vanderslice ‘How the West Was Won’

“Don’t it feel good to be understood tonight.”

That lyric, grammatically correct or not,  was not the first thing that stood out for me about John Vanderslice’s ‘How the West Was Won.’ But upon hearing that line, it was the moment that I knew I wanted to hear more from this guy.

Though you might argue that John’s sound is not ‘thick,’ the song is like a good haircut; circa 1982 – layered and complex.

There is also a subtlety to this song. It doesn’t have much of a musical build. But there are no gaps either. Just a train-steady beat that keeps John’s Elliot Smith-like vocals on track.

John’s voice is plain and plaintive – slightly hushed making you want to, not just turn up the volume, but to move a little closer to the speakers. It’s a strange mix of happy and sad. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around it let alone explaining it. It’s just how I feel.

John Vanderslice is an unassuming rock star. Watch the Kickstarter plea that he made when he was recording ‘Dagger Beach.’ He’s funny and thoughtful and real – so real that he still produces his stuff in an analog studio. It just so happens he owns the studio – Tiny Telephone in San Francisco. Jack White would be proud. Bands like Death Cab for Cutie, Third Eye Blind, and Spoon have all recorded there.

And hell, who doesn’t love an indie-rock-god-like guy who wears collared shirts with crew neck sweaters. That’s rock and roll – circa 2013.

In the end, I have to admit that I am not sure how the west was won – but I do know how good it feels to be understood.

[coolgoatmusic]

Shelby Lynne ‘Call Me Up’

I follow Shelby Lynne on Facebook. That seems like a very anti-Shelby-Lynne thing to do. But she (or her ‘people’) is generally very good about updating her page – posting pictures and videos from shows and keeping you up to date on what’s happening in Shelby-ville.

And what’s happening in Shelby-ville is this: She has a new EP coming December 10, 2013. ‘Thanks’ is just five songs long. Thankfully you can preview all the tracks online including ‘Call Me Up.’

Disclaimer: I’ve been a Shelby Lynne fan since the release of her Glen Ballard produced 2001 album ‘Love Shelby.’ That led me to backtrack and pick up her incredible 1999 debut ‘I Am Shelby Lynne.’ You know the one with the black and white shot of the singer on the album cover wearing a fur trimmed jacket and nothing more – just sort of staring longingly into the camera as if to… never mind.

The fact is that I could talk forever about Shelby’s untouchable sexuality and her unheralded ability to slide from alt. country to contemporary pop to classic crooning and back again. The uninitiated might expect more of a Bonnie Raitt kind of sound (not that there would be anything wrong with that) – but Shelby’s voice is exceptionally clean and strong.

And in ‘Call Me Up,’ it sounds like Shelby is just having a good time. The infectious riffing and sing-along repetition makes this a kitchen-party of a song. The way Shelby delivers a line is important too:

“When you gonna call me up…”

 It sounds like she is half asking the question and half telling the answer.

And I love how the mandolin and the guitars each have their own chorus to ‘sing’ and their own stories to share.  

To me, ‘Call Me Up’ is a celebratory song about life and looking forward to what might be next. You patiently wait your turn. And eventually, you will be rewarded. That’s how I feel anyway when Shelby eventually releases something new.

So… thanks!

[coolgoatmusic]

Lily Allen ‘Hard Out Here’

Lily Allen seems to have a plan. She took some time off. She had some babies. She changed her name and then she changed it back again. But I’m wondering if it was part of her plans to make a pseudo-comeback in a semi-shocking EDM kind of way? If it is, she must love that her plan is coming together – A-Team-style. Sadly, I’m not sure if I love it.

Shock #1: The splitsing and splashing of liposuction fat at the beginning of her video for ‘Hard Out Here.’ The fat, along with Allen’s disgust of how some people view a celebrity’s public image, almost dances.

Shock #2: Allen’s blatant attack on preconceived Hollywood perceptions of stars versus her own self-deprecating image insecurities. Both are almost equal in their biting anger, pain and satire.

Shock #3: Language… well, sort of. Allen has never held back. Why start now. From her liberal use of the word “bitch,” “slut” and “tits,” Allen dares radio programmers to step up (or down) their sensibilities and play her new song. European broadcasters seem to have a more actionable appreciation for Lily’s language and ideas than North Americans do. And for Allen, that’s a bitch.

Shock #4: The controversy stemming from Allen hiring predominantly African-American back-up dancers to twerk and slap their way through the video. Some call it racist. But Allen is fighting the social media hordes by reminding them she just hired the best people who applied for the job. That’s all. The colour of their skin didn’t play into the employment process. Personally I’m more shocked that people are reacting to this fabricated crisis than the new song itself.

I’m more disappointed that the uber-talented singer-songwriter behind “Smile” and “22” is semi-auto tuning her way through ‘Hard Out Here,’ a semi-autobiographical semi-electronic dance track with the potential to be semi-catchy.

And it is ‘semi-catchy’— but in the end, I guess I have to deal with my own semi-reluctance to accept 2013-Lilly. I liked 2006-Lily with her freshly disturbing insecurities and cruelly relatable quirks.

Wanna shock me? Give me more of that.