Various Animal Noises

[variousanimalnoises]

whoknows, by sadloaf

12 track album

The album is out and available for download. FFO indie rock, emo, post-pop-punk, twinklestuff, sturgil simpson

[variousanimalnoises]

There Isn’t Much To Living In The City

“Living In The City” was one of the first songs on Hurray For The Riff Raff’s new album The Naivagtor to really sink its teeth into me. It is the first full track on the album and the reason for that is pretty obvious. It’s infectious and powerful. It is also repetitive to the point that there is a need to analyze why it isn’t annoying. 

Little happens over the course of the song. The chord changes are basic and the guitar is actually fairly quiet. The drums don’t do anything to write home about. There’s a guitar solo that is pleasant and serviceable, but it isn’t some grand virtuosic statement. The vocal melody is exactly the same in all of the phrases in the verse and also half of the choruses and it is a simple one. There is a lot of fun to be had with a tight band rocking an easy song, but that isn’t what makes this song so good. 

So why is it even worth listening to at all?

Alynda’s vocals are phenomenal. This isn’t a new thing for HFTRF but here, stripped of anything else to distract, it really shines. It’s not her range, either. The whole song takes place inside of one octave. The beauty lies in her timbre which has a je ne sais quoi that lends a huge importance to her every word. This song choked me up before I knew any of the words. She makes a gut punch out of every phrase. The vocals weigh a thousand pounds on this track and they weigh a ton when she’s singing the hard hitting lyrics: “14 floors of birthing / and 14 floors of dying,” “Gypsy bit the dust / you know that shit he had was poison.” The instruments know better than to stand in front of that. 

[variousanimalnoises]

It’s Not A Guitar

There are myriad Youtube musicians who make mediocre music for a huge amount of followers, but the only one who really gets under my skin is a guy named Rob Scallon. I like some of his solo guitar compositions and think that his attempts to bring 7/8/9 string guitars into genres with clean tones is admirable. The problem arises when he plays any instrument that isn’t a guitar. He plays everything like a guitar. I think he would try to flatpick an oboe if someone handed him one. Here is a video where he flatpicks a sitar. Here is a video where he flatpicks a banjo. Here is a video where he flatpicks a cello. I want to talk about why this irks me so much. I’ll be using banjo as the key reference point, as that is where my experience lies.

There is nothing wrong with a non-traditional approach to an instrument. Technique and style are things that are always evolving and this wouldn’t happen without unique approaches to instrumentation. Melodic banjo wouldn’t be what it is today without someone looking at traditional methods and deciding against using them. Scruggs pioneered his own style with a lot of notes and became the reason people took banjo seriously. Don Reno disregarded Scruggs and developed hjs own style, using single strings to convey full melodies more easily. Bill Keith built more complex scalar rolls up the neck on top of Scruggs to create the Melodic style. People like Noam Pikelny combine styles with jazz concepts and extreme virtuosity to make something completely different. 

Scallon’s pieces do not meet this description, largely because what he is doing is something that any amateur musician coming from guitar does when handed another instrument. I used to be extremely guilty of this, myself. His style isn’t so much a deliberate aesthetic of his choosing. Instead, it is merely what he is capable of with his rudimentary understanding of the instrument. It is not fresh, interesting, or inspiring. Most importantly, it doesn’t sound good. 

If “tone is in the hands,” then playing a banjo like a guitar is the metaphorical equivalent of chopping your right hand off. A flatpick can never do what 3 fingers can do and the whole sonic palette of the banjo falls apart when Scallon tries. Turning metal riffs into banjo rolls is a fun arranging challenge that I find to be quite rewarding. Scallon does not do this, instead just strumming power chords and tremolo picking guitar solos in the same style they were written in. This makes the instrument sound weak-- like the raw input from an electric guitar trying to play metal. I don’t know how else to describe the tone except that it is really really bad. This approach to banjo keeps him from picking the right notes and from playing those notes in a way that sounds good. 

Of course, none of this matters to Rob Scallon. I’m not even sure if it should matter to him. These videos are wildly successful. He has made a career out of doing things the way that he does them. He is definitely getting a lot more positive press than negative (except for opinionated jerks like myself). People usually stop growing at the first opportunity to do so and Scallon has passed that mark. If he were to learn to play the banjo, it would be for his own edification. I do pray he drops that straw hat/overalls/hillbilly schtick in his banjo videos, though. It is an insult to actual banjo players that have pioneered virtuosity on the instrument and put real time into learning how to play. 

[variousanimalnoises]

What is the praxis of “Conversations With People Who Hate Me?”

I will express upfront my fondness for Dylan Marron. He’s Carlos for christsake. We share a first name, which makes me instantly sympathetic. He also had a stint at Seriously.tv in which he always seemed to have the right take on what was going on in the politics of social justice. His videos go beyond being well-meaning to the point of being thoughtfully inclusive, at least from my limited point of view. Inclusive to maligned and oppressed groups, that is. Traditionally powerful groups don’t get much consideration, and for good reason. 

This leads me to my first nitpick with his new podcast “Conversations With People Who Hate Me,” a show where he interviews (often conservative) internet trolls. Almost every episode so far has some complaint about his “smug” unboxing videos that he, gracious host as he is, basically takes on the chin. His interviewees say every time that those kinds of videos don’t start a dialogue with them. I would argue that not everything has to be in a dialogue with people who disagree with us. I find the unboxing videos to be funny and cathartic. It feels nice to watch content from someone who at a base level is sympathetic to what you believe. Not everything public needs to be designed to teach detractors at a 101 level. Some things can be ours.

The unscripted conversations, without talking points prepared and without any analysis afterwards, means that issues rarely get lengthy arguments made for them. If the interviewees come away with a change of heart, it is most assuredly because Dylan charmed the pants off of them. I understand that doing an interview in order to lecture someone is not a good faith conversation, but it makes me wonder about what these interviews are actually for as a result.

I don’t think it’s for fence sitting “classical liberals” or people to their right. Dylan is far too receptive to listening to them to shut them down and they will walk away feeling the same as they did, except perhaps knowing that the scary progressive boogeyman they invented isn’t as scary as they thought. It isn’t for progressives or people to the left of them. We’ve all heard and rebutted the things that the interviewees are saying millions of times over. Maybe there is a takeaway about good praxis meaning taking your political opponents as complete people with full rich lives, but I already expressed my concerns about that winning hearts and minds. 

I also worry that when he doesn’t shut down conservative talking points, he gives them a platform by having them on the show. He hasn’t had anyone truly hateful on the show as of writing this, but he does let people get hurtful things through with little correction. All of his guests bring up BLM, which he counters with some anecdotes about the black experience, but never comes down strongly enough.  He could easily bring enough evidence of systemic racial violence by police to convince any impartial observer, but he doesn’t. And when he provides a platform and doesn’t do enough to counter regressive speech, he is partially disseminating their talking points for them. 

We definitely need people as sweet and charming as Dylan on our side, but if he were to stand up for himself more he would be standing up for all of us. I sort of waver for a minute and maybe finish the rest of my podcast feed before finally listening to “Conversations” and I think I’ve articulated why.

[variousanimalnoises]

milo isn’t hiding behind anything (this is not a discussion about music)

I get a bit flustered when I see people talk about Milo’s first couple efforts as his best works. As if the crude but charming I Wish My Brother Rob Was Here could compete with Milo’s work as he increasingly figures out who he is. As a musician myself, I can imagine that it is frustrating for Milo as well. He isn’t that person anymore, so the comparison doesn’t even feel legitimate to start with. Not to read too much into his psyche. He has clearly developed a songwriting method and strengthened it over and over again and that is so much more interesting than a smart kid rapping about message boards. 

Who Told You To Think has references to mythology, books, and philosophy, but he isn’t hiding behind them anymore. They aren’t a way to signal that he went to college or that he has big thoughts on big ideas. With all of his penchant for obliqueness, he is more clear on this album than he has ever been. This is the most repetitive Milo album. Sometimes he’s repeats a line 8 times. Sometimes he lets a split second of the last vowel of a word repeat itself into the end of the line. Sometimes he trades a rhyme out for a not-rhyme. It’s the most that I’ve ever felt that Milo wants his audience to understand what he is saying. 

It’s also his most hip-hop record. Compared to even STFDC, there is less spoken word here than ever before. As Milo grows, it does not surprise me that he goes more toward traditional hip-hop meter. His heroes are people like Busdriver, who stuffs so much into rapidfire meter that it will make your head spin. As he becomes a better songwriter, he will be able to say more of what he wants to say in these types of confined spaces. 

if any of that makes sense

[variousanimalnoises]

No big thoughts on this one, just wanted to share a good song. “Woodcat” is calm but dynamic, folksy but experimental. The production sets it above and beyond the oft-maligned pitfalls of indie folk music. It strikes an odd balance of feeling old and futuristic simultaneously. 

[variousanimalnoises]

Digging Is Dying: Why I Am Not A Poptimist

It took me awhile to accept that I am not a poptimist. I like the concept of poptimism on its face. It is a way of giving music back to the average person by acknowledging that there is art in something that they like and have access to. Poptimism gives credit to pop songwriters for writing hooks and places importance on the visceral nature of popular music as something that is well crafted. It calls pop music what it is, culture, which is something that America is sometimes falsely accused of not having much of. It is a breath of fresh air compared to the old guard of elitist rockists. Still, I am not a poptimist.

The problem is that I like almost no pop music. I didn’t like the new Carly Rae Jepsen album that got so much acclaim. I don’t like Taylor Swift, Beyonce, Sia, Nicki Minaj, Fetty Wap, Adele, Drake, Katy Perry, Rihanna, or Justin Bieber. I like To Pimp A Butterfly, but not because of any lingering trace of pop music that it might contain. I don’t take issue with anybody who likes these artists, but I have tried and failed to enjoy them. Poptimism has failed me, personally. The Billboard Top 40 landscape that is celebrated by self-identified poptimists doesn’t appeal to me. Despite the ideological draw, I cannot call myself a poptimist. Alas!

I had already written a draft of this essay when the difference between self-proclaimed poptimists and myself became clear to me. I was reading through some year-end lists and noticing that among many of the pop-laden lists were a token country album, a token pop-rock album, and so on. These genres, the kind that get a single album in the top 100 albums on these lists if they appear at all, ostensibly fit the mold of poptimism as I defined it in the first paragraph. They are “pop” albums, regardless of what hyphenation might follow that word. However, these albums are not the ones touted by poptimists, so the definition of “poptimism” must be narrower than the one I have laid out somehow.

Anybody that knows me can testify that I am a longtime unabashed fan of pre-hiatus Fall Out Boy. I think that they put out four of the best pop-rock albums ever made. Their music is visceral pop-oriented music with catchy hooks and great singing. Their songwriting is top-notch and their lyrics are more than passable. However, I have only ever seen scorn directed at them from the poptimist crowd. Identifying why they aren’t mentioned alongside other pop acts might be the key to honing the definition of “poptimism.”

Fall Out Boy don’t have that much cultural capital that can be latched onto and converted into one’s own cultural capital. Their prime was a few years ago and their lyrics are emotional and vulnerable in a way that pop songs generally are not. There is an additional fear of association with the “scene” crowd that likes their music. As a “guilty pleasure” there is actually a cultural cost to associating your taste with them. Therein lies the hidden tenet of poptimism: it isn’t about broadening taste, but about refining taste and fitting top 40 dance/rap/pop music into the definition of “refined.”

The result of this mindset on indie music websites has not been pretty. Pop act tabloids have found their way into indie news as a way to generate clickbait views. Established acts are being praised and circulated to the detriment of undiscovered talent, raising the barrier to entry. There is less room for an artist to benefit from a publication’s cred. Instead, the publications bank on the big-name artists’ cred benefiting them. Even though they are “pop,” there is no room for pop-rock or country because they cost cred instead of giving it off. This dynamic runs completely counter to the idea of having an “indie” publication in the first place. Digging is dying. 

During this decade, we have seen “poptimism” grow from a much needed rebellion against rock elitism into a celebration of the status quo. It didn’t destratify the worth of genres; it simply reorganized them. It isn’t a celebration of common tastes. Instead, it is an appropriation of some of those common tastes into the “tastemaker” listening archetype. It is a shame that such a useful idea has been morphed so much and there hasn’t been a word to replace it.

[variousanimalnoises]

Nobody is Talking About: PWR BTTM’s “Ugly Cherries”

There is a scene in the video game Life is Strange where one of the teenage female characters dances to a punk song while jumping up and down on her bed in a way that feels like the archetypal relationship between young people and vibrant music. Despite being a lifelong music lover and crate digger, I can think of few times that music has ever made me want to do that. Join a mosh pit, crowdsurf, jump over fellow concertgoers to get closer to the band, sure, but never that. It’s hard to describe the exact feeling, but PWR BTTM’s new album, Ugly Cherries, makes me want to rock out.

Ugly Cherries takes PWR BTTM’s honest gay rock from their previous efforts and adds a new clarity and energy. In some ways, it feels like PWR BTTM is reclaiming the type of music they play for their audience. It’s like I have been given the keys to explore romantic and gendered ideas in rock music on my terms. It isn’t political in its queerness, which is refreshing (though I love political queer music, too). In many ways the battle for LGBT rights is the battle to join the status quo and Ugly Cherries feels like something in the traditional rock n roll canon that I can’t point to and say, “that’s ours.” It is smart, unashamed, and, most importantly, it rocks.

PWR BTTM has a great ear for guitar lines that really drive the song in an appropriate way. This usually means chunky rhythm guitar lines, but just as soon as you forget what their guitarist is capable of, out comes the fast, sticky lead lines. The lead guitar in “Ugly Cherries” and “1994” are exciting, flashy, and feel earned. Like with the vocals and lyrics, PWR BTTM shows here they know how to be indulgent in the right way and in the right doses.

The vocal excesses of previous PWR BTTM songs are gone and we are left with well-delivered vocal lines delivered in an earnest, almost pop-punk style. Ugly Cherries borrows from pop-punk in many aspects, most clearly on “Serving Goffman,” which could have borrowed its melody from any number of pop-punk songs. The only time this newfound vocal restraint is a letdown is on the new version of “All The Boys” and then it is likely only because I have heard the version from their previous EP and am off put by the changes.  

Besides rocking, there are a handful of tracks that are stripped back ballads. The most notable of these is “Nu 1,” which has a more mature than usual set of lyrics and some beautiful wailing high vocals on the back end of the track. There is also “House of Virginia,” which, at almost 5 minutes, is more than twice as long as any other track. It is also the only song I’ve ever heard to use the word “gaymazing.” It pulls influence from pretty much everywhere you can imagine and morphs quite a lot across its length.

Ugly Cherries is an overwhelming success because it does well both as a queer record and on its other merits. These are the type of love songs that your straight friends have had their whole lives, the kind that you sang along to anyway with the pronouns flipped in your head. This album is more than pronouns, but queerness is what turns this from a solid rock album into a proclamation.

[variousanimalnoises]

If any of you are interested in bedroom recorded emo/indie rock/pop-punk, my new album, Unfooted, is now available on bandcamp for $7! Enjoy.

[variousanimalnoises]

Nobody Is Talking About: Punch Brothers’ The Phosphorescent Blues

As a mandolin player myself, it is hard not to get excited about Chris Thile. If he isn’t the greatest living mandolin player, he is surely the most important. He has dedicated his life to walking a thin line between visceral and cerebral acoustic music, treating genre as a low wall that is best stepped over at the slightest whim. He’s made straightforward bluegrass and indie folk with Nickel Creek, jazzy heady music with Yo-Yo Ma and Edgay Meyer, and released an album of Bach sonatas and partitas. It is perplexing to me how there isn’t more mention of his latest record with his progressive bluegrass band Punch Brothers, The Phosphorescent Blues, in year-end lists.

Punch Brothers has always been Thile putting his money where his mouth is regarding genrebending, and this album is another in a string of increasingly refined string of albums to make his point. The instrument set is one most commonly associated with bluegrass and newgrass music—mandolin, acoustic guitar, upright bass, banjo, violin, with some occasional drums-- but Thile uses them to conjure whatever he pleases. This is an album with both a Debussy cover and a rendition of a traditional American folk tune, presented in a way that celebrates their common ground.

Thile is a loud proponent of indie rock music and the influence has always been clear and present. The opening track, “Familiarity,” gives off acoustic indie rock vibes before meandering off into several minutes of atmospheric noodling. Tracks like “Magnet” and “My Oh My” sometimes feel like proper rock songs, despite the lack of amplification. Interestingly, Thile doesn’t ever wander too far into the weirder sides of indie rock in these explorations, despite being a vocal fan of Radiohead. “Blew It Off” actually feels more in the vein of Coldplay, especially with the booming chorus. The difference being the lack of affect that Punch Brothers shows with incorporating bowed instruments in their songs, since they are in their own element.

Lyrically, it can sometimes be frustrating that Thile is not as articulate or forward thinking as he is with his playing. There is nothing offensively bad in the lyric sheet, but not a lot to offer real thought, either. “Magnet” can feel especially strange, since it is a spicy sex jam and Thile is an unrepentant nerd. It gets by on its absolutely rocking instrumental and vocal melody, bolstered by the sly humor that is made a bit more clear when watching a live performance of the song. In fact, Thile has shown that he is at his best when he is being cheeky and one of his great draws is his ability to take stuffy traditional music and turn it into something fun and light-hearted.

“Magnet” is also as good a point as any to point out that Thile is the bandleader, but he definitely isn’t holding the band up on his own. “Magnet” has a brilliant banjo part and banjo player Noam Pikelny is one of the greatest in his own right. Some of the best parts on the record are when Thile uses his mandolin to play percussion and the other instruments get a greater say. The mandolin has a beautiful thunk to its strumming and Thile makes a great drummer in this capacity.

I know I’ve wasted too many words complaining about the lack of space in the indie blogosphere for bands outside of a specific market, but it’s hard to see where Punch Brothers’ brilliance can fit into the way we talk about bands on the internet. They are too experimental for the bluegrass scene, too folky for the indie rock scene, too punchy for the indie folk scene, and too visceral for the classical scene. The trail they are blazing is going to grow back over if great records like this don’t get the type of coverage they deserve.

[variousanimalnoises]

The Best Album of 2015: Hop Along’s “Painted Shut”

When trying to put together a top 10 albums list for 2015, I realized I was able to rattle off about 20 albums that I hadn’t got around to yet that could be potential candidates. With that in mind, I decided what might be a more meaningful piece would be to discuss what is far and away my favorite record of 2015. I don’t see any other record usurping this record, at least the ones that I already know about. The album in question is Hop Along’s Painted Shut.

Every single review of this album hinges on a discussion of Frances Quinlan’s voice. Vice called her the best modern rock singer. Her vocals are an inseparable part of the equation and for good reason. They are unique, beautiful, and brave. Quinlan does not shy away from a note, even for a second. She is a totally unique brand of powerhouse vocalist with excellent choice of melody and tone that makes the songs she sings an emotional whirlwind before you even know the words. That being said, this is the only paragraph I will dedicate exclusively to Quinlan’s vocals. You can read many more positive reviews of her vocals everywhere else on the internet.

Quinlan shines just as bright in the lyric department. Every lyric on the album feels weighty and deliberate. The subject matters are varied and interesting. The words twist around images into their meanings. Some of the themes are completely solid—the narrative of “Waitress,” for instance, is clear as day. Other songs, like “Happy To See Me,” are more impressionistic. “Happy To See Me” winds through images of war, confusion, and identity, before finally erupting triumphantly into optimism: “People of the world / nobody loves you / half as much as I am trying to.” There are solid poetic messages abound in Painted Shut’s lyrics that reward close reading and criticism. They are vivid and unique without being obtuse.

From a melodic perspective, Quinlan combines her poetic lyrics with enormous vocal hooks to great effect. In some senses, every single vocal line is a hook. There is no big high note to hit near the end of the song.  Instead, challenging vocals lines come and go at an unpredictable pace. The songs feel monstrously large at times, for instance in “Texas Funeral” when the seemingly final chorus erupts into an even larger final chorus, with Quinlan shouting “NONE OF THIS IS GONNA HAPPEN TO ME.” The songs can back down into delicacy at a moments notice and create tenderness where there was bombast just a moment ago.

The instrumentation on Painted Shut sometimes doesn’t get the credit it deserves and that might be because of how solidly appropriate it is across the course of the album. There are two moments that come to mind where the song swells from a final hook and then reaches total silence before breaking out into well-earned guitar jams to end out the track: “Texas Funeral” and “Sister Cities.” These moments feel exciting, potent, and, viewing it as the completed product, obvious. This is a testament to how solid the composition of these tracks is. The guitars know their place as a vehicle on top of which lyrics are delivered and they do everything in their power to get them there, whether it is the dissonant tones on the back half of “Well-dressed” or the sparse punchiness of the verse guitars in “Powerful Man.” Were I to fault this album for anything, it would be a lack of flashy guitar lines that stand well on their own, but Painted Shut convincingly asserts that it doesn’t need them.  

The instrument choice is varied and the different timbres of instruments are used for emotional effect. There is wistful harp on “Happy To See Me,” slinky pianos on “Horseshoe Crabs,” and sputtering percussive acoustic guitars on “Well-dressed.” There is actually a fair deal of harp on the album, lingering in the back of the mix and usually sticking to creating an atmosphere rather than stealing the show. This is a great use of studio resources to make something that couldn’t simply be jammed out on the fly.

The songwriting on the album plays with choruses and verses, but generally only uses them as playthings. Many of the choruses have different lyrics every time. Some songs grow organically across the length of the track, taking the first verse melodic themes and altering them. The success in the songwriting on Painted Shut comes from its ability to work with the lyrical themes and act in a way that drives them forward or makes them feel more potent.

Painted Shut is powerful from every standpoint. Quinlan, as brilliant a vocalist as she is, wouldn’t be as compelling without the rest of the solid songwriting she is standing on. The album is a focused, brave piece of indie rock by way of Midwestern emo. Every emotion the instrumentation conjures is underlined heavily by beautiful vocals and vocal melodies. It is a killer combination of genius songwriting vision and skilled instrumentation. I simply cannot gush about it enough.

[variousanimalnoises]

Your New Favorite Emo Bands: Indie Rock Bands

I love A Great Big Pile Of Leaves. I think they make great songs and the laid-back baritone vocals make them sound distinct from any other emo band. You’re Always On My Mind is definitely a highlight of 2013. I don’t deny them any of the acclaim that they have garnered from indie rock music blogs, especially the great reviews of “Snack Attack.” However, I do have a problem with how the indie music blogosphere reviews emo and pop-punk records. I feel this problem represents what is fundamentally flawed about the huge genre-spanning “indie” publication world. Pitchfork will be taking the brunt of this because of my familiarity with it, but you can stand in any other indie publication and it would resonate just as well.

Here is what Pitchfork had to say about A Great Big Pile Of Leaves and The World Is A Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid To Die in their article “Your New Favorite Emo Bands: The Best of Topshelf Records' 2013 Sampler:”

“A Great Big Pile of Leaves’ You’re Always On My Mind remains one of 2013’s most effortlessly enjoyable indie rock albums, The World is a Beautiful Place and I Am No Longer Afraid To Die made good on three years of anticipation for their debut, Whenever, If Ever, which took Cap’n Jazz to an orchestral and cathartic extreme that occasionally recalls the Arcade Fire.”

The language here is specific. Pitchfork uses the language of indie rock to describe these emo bands. Your new favorite “emo” bands are actually indie rock bands. If Pitchfork can squeeze your band into the nebulous “indie rock” genre, you get a thumbs up. However, even the emo albums they proclaim to love have a ceiling on their ratings. Touché Amore’s Is Survived By got an 8.0, Whenever, If Ever got a 7.8, and You’re Always On My Mind didn’t even get a review. If you make the best emo/indie-rock crossover album of all time, Pitchfork thinks you deserve an 8.0 at best.

Pitchfork aims to be the ultimate music tastemaker, but this isn’t possible if they are total outsiders to any genre of music. The problem is that Pitchfork doesn’t particularly like emo music, so their taste on this front looks basic and in some ways like a cynical co-opting of the large boom in the emo scene in the past couple years. No Bars Of Gold, Glocca Morra, Snowing, Dowsing, or Modern Baseball reviews to be found.  They don’t seem to be interested in anything but the basics and the hyped up next-big-things of the genre. The lack of “deep cuts” runs counter to the whole purpose of a crate-digging indie music publication.

The newfound blog love of emo qua indie rock feels especially false because in the mid-2000s it was especially cool to shit on any Kinsella-esque Midwest emo music. Look no further than any Joan Of Arc review (or lack of Algernon Cadwallader review) for proof of this. They are happy to step back in now that emo is in vogue, but I imagine they’ll step away just as fast.

But why does any of this matter? Who cares what Pitchfork says? Isn’t it good that some good bands are getting good press, even if others aren’t?

It matters because indie music blogs like Pitchfork are huge and have the ability to help or harm a scene with their reviews. They can be an avenue for growth and outreach or the opposite. Having more refined taste would be good for Pitchfork as a tastemaker and for good emo bands. It’s a win-win. Even if we can write off Pitchfork for not understanding, we can still be disappointed at what might have been.

The real solution, though, is to have a reliably tasteful emo review website. Something that looks nice, has deep taste, and can sustain itself. Would it be able to garner enough traffic to support itself and become a relevant voice in the review sphere? Who knows. Until someone with the time and skill to try comes along, all we can do is ask more of our enormous indie rock overlords.

[variousanimalnoises]

A reaction to the ideas put forth in one of the latest Needle Drop podcasts. 

[variousanimalnoises]

Justin Farren is one of those people that everyone should be listening to, but has never risen to the level of acclaim he probably deserves. His songs are punchy, clever, and insightful without ever being too much. There are some great songwriting chops here, too: the final verse, where everything drops out but the vocals and the drums, sounds so good. 

[variousanimalnoises]

"Bro-Country" and the Niche It Occupies

If you live in America, there’s a high probability that you have had the misfortune of passing through radio stations and coming across a country station that was playing a loud, gaudy song about trucks, painted on jeans, and beer. I think it’s fair to say that, at this point, this type of country music has become a huge part of the country music image. In the manner that is chic to pen insulting genre names, “bro-country" was born just as “brostep” and “brocore” before it. The songs are simple and repetitive (internally and between songs), the southern accents are thick, the product placement is obvious. “Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way?” indeed. Hank III might, though.

For the sake of this post, the type of music I’m referring to is the type made by Florida Georgia Line, Blake Shelton, and even “country rap” like The Lacs. This is something that is oppressively widespread now and the term “bro-country” wasn’t coined until 2013, but it’s clear that it wasn’t born in a vacuum.

Hearing this description of the genre, one might wonder why anyone would bother listening to this music. To figure this out, one must ask: what does this music offer that other music does not? What did older country music offer and is it being offered elsewhere?

Popular rock music in the past 20 years or so hasn’t encompassed a lot of different social uses. The post-Nirvana, post-grunge pop rock landscape was gritty and severe. Eventually that gave way to a tackier, but more sensitive, landscape: Creed, Nickleback, Three Days Grace. Nu-metal and its disciples brought the angst up a lot and the reaction to that music since then has left the rock songs popular enough to get into the pop music stations looking shy, hip, and expressive: think MGMT or even Foster the People.

But there hasn’t been much in the way of popular rock music geared toward light-heartedness and partying (unless you want to count Andrew WK). Classic and 80’s rock had this in spades. To this day, those genres are white people party music. It’s big and over-the-top and cheesy but not necessary obsessed with sounding serious. It looks silly and it is and that is the purpose that it serves.

By most metrics, these bro-country songs are rock songs in that same vein. They often are loud, arena-style guitar-driven songs with guitar solos in them. They are closer to the archetype of classic rock than they are to Waylon and Willie and the boys. Sure, popular hip-hop music deals a lot with partying, but its clear from the lyrics that they are at an entirely different kind of party. Bro-country parties romanticize the pastoral (though Blake Shelton does end up in the club in the video I linked) as well as aspects of the American middle class. Still, the borrowing from hip-hop is clear and never hidden. Hell, Nelly is in that Florida Georgia Line I linked to.

Country music has always had a party-song aspect to it, but bro-country artists have taken the impending monogenre and used it to distill the purest form of the prototypical redneck party anthem. And, like the purest form of anything, it’s going to be very similar every batch and taste incredibly strong, which is okay if that is the taste you are looking for.

[radiantseraphina]

Interestingly enough, Gender in Media class turned to a discussion of whether or not country music is racist. I say interestingly because I recently posted about the slut-shaming in Taylor Swift’s music. It is at this point that I must admit to a horrible flaw of mine. Discussing race makes me...

[variousanimalnoises]

This is an important question to keep asking, since there definitely seems to be some exclusion going on with regard to country singers of color. However, I think that the discussion of "country culture" could be expanded and called what it really is: redneck culture. Redneck culture is the culture of (mostly) southern straight white poor men and carries all of the baggage that comes with it: hypermasculinity, conservatism, racism, sexism, obstinance, and ignorance. 

Are these things present in modern country music? In my opinion, radio country is so benign that it couldn't convey most of those things even if the songwriters felt that way. They revolve largely around drinking and drugs, as well as some love songs that I think would fall into the "benevolent sexism" category. The only song I can think of that is currently in rotation that deals with any serious issues is "Girl in a Country Song," which is a dismantling of the current country tropes involving women. 

These songs are so benign because the social function of country music has changed to be more like classic rock than anything else. I've actually written about this before and might post the article here, too. There is no room for racism in country music because there's hardly any room to really say anything with meaning at all. 

Country music itself seems to be interesting in evaluating itself with regards to race in more subtle ways (the "Accidental Racist" song debacle notwithstanding). Nelly has a verse on a very popular Florida Georgia Line song called "Cruise." Blake Shelton fist-bumps his black friends in the club in the "Boys 'Round Here" music video. Hip-hop influenced country-rap and "bro country" are increasing massively in popularity, though admittedly it is via mostly white faces. These are subtle changes, but, as I said, there isn't any room in the lyrics for anything this heavy. 

Knowing a few rednecks myself, I would say they are slowly drifting away from the stereotypical outright racism to ignorance. You can see this happening with homophobia as well. I would say it is a drift to the left, but considering the politics of the old guard of country music (Steve Earle, Willie Nelson, etc.), it's actually a drift back to the left. It's slow, but I don't see it stopping any time soon. 

[variousanimalnoises]

All That Glitters Is Gold: Appreciation and Irony

I make no bones about the fact that I love the two new albums by mashup artist Neil Cicierega, Mouth Sounds and Mouth Silence. They are funny and the moments in it are unexpected. I highly suggest listening to the albums all the way through without reading any reviews so that the moments can sneak up on you. For a week, my last.fm tells me that I was actually listening to these mashups more than I was listening to anything else. It gave me pause and a reason to examine why I like these songs so much.

Cicierega has a lot of fun taking the piss out of classic songs. He puts “Float On” with “All-Star.” He mashes up “Imagine” with “All-Star.” He mashes up a lot of songs with “All-Star.” This song takes the forefront of a whole album, its iconic lyricism and vocal delivery finding its way into every sonic territory. I listened to “Billie Jean” and “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and “Wonderwall” for the first time in many years. Through quirky and irreverent mashups, the albums are able to reinvigorate old songs. I even liked listening to “All-Star.” But it’s all ironic, right?

This all lead me to wonder about the exact nature of “ironic appreciation,” which is something that has been an important factor in indie music for quite awhile now but the exact nature of which is never outright spoken about. What is it? Is it just an appreciation of a song for reasons other than the ones that the songwriter intended (as much as that is known)? Is it appreciating a song for being silly when the intent is serious? Is it the same thing as “appreciation”? Do I like “All-Star” by Smash Mouth? So much to do, so much to see—so what’s wrong with taking the back streets?

The more I listen to old kitschy songs, the less I am able to separate how I appreciate them from how I appreciate music that I take more seriously. “Serious” is an operative word here. I think that the reason we dismiss kitsch music and music that provides the background for vaporwave music, for instance, is that they are presented to us in a setting where we are asked to believe that they are serious, that they make artistic statements, that they are worthy of constant national and international broadcast. Without that context, they become more difficult to hate. They’re not a big deal, but it’s okay to like things that are just a small deal.

Ironic appreciation is appreciation of a song for the small deal that it is. It is still appreciation. In this sense, “all that glitters is gold:” the realm of possible music to enjoy is basically infinitely large if you are willing to view liking something as more than an all-or-nothing is situation. Only shooting stars break the mold, but that doesn’t mean that the mold isn’t good for making paperweights.