Sometimes writing an album review means telling a band they’re wrong. They’re not necessarily bad at songwriting, just in explaining their body of work. It means telling Weezer which album actually was their best since Pinkerton (It’s “Red Album,” but that’s not saying much) or ranking Foo Fighters album by loudness (It’s actually a loop that begins and ends with In Your Honor). The same holds true for Codes and Keys by Death Cab for Cutie.
The two things DCFC are pushing in Codes’ promotional cycle are 1) This is a keyboard record, not a guitar-centric record like Narrow Stairs and 2) This is their first truly “happy” record and therefore a big emotional departure for fans of the group’s output. While I agree with the former, I don’t necessarily agree with the latter.
As far as instrumentation goes, Codes is a departure. The record is indeed more keyboard heavy, and while guitar occasionally plays a significant role on tunes like “You Are a Tourist,” the album overall is dominated by piano and synths. This new approach yields the closest thing to a Postal Service throwback in the form of danceable tracks “Home is a Fire” and “Some Boys.”
As far as statement number two goes, the one about Codes being a happy record, well, they sort of got it right. On a lyrical level, Gibbard is more unabashedly gleeful on tracks like “Stay Young, Go Dancing” and “Monday Morning.” He doesn’t cushion his love songs with the macabre here like he did on “I Will Follow You Into the Dark” or “Transatlanticism.” But this is still a Death Cab album. It’s not like frontman Ben Gibbard reinvented his singing style. The tunes still bear more of a resemblance to Narrow Stairs than advertised; they’re just played on different instruments.
Codes is not a pizza party or anything. It still sounds like Death Cab. If anything, the happy tag is misleading in that it implies the songs will be catchy pop ditties, when in fact the record is far more subtle in its melodies than Narrow Stairs or Plans. While that makes it a little less enjoyable at first, repeat listens yield a fitting addition to the DFCF catalogue.
Not sure if you were aware of this information, but Mikey Erg is in a band (besides Star Fucking Hipsters, Psyched to Die, The Ergs!, The Measure [SA], Dopamines, House Boat, Used Kids and Brook Pridemore). They’re called The Slow Death, and they include bassist/vocalist Jesse Thorson (Pretty Boy Thorson and The Fallen Angels), guitarist Dave Strait (also from PBT ‘n’ TFA) and guitarist Johnny C (ex-The Rest of Us). According to cartoonist Mitch Clem, “The Slow Death are a veritable punk rock super group, except more super because they’re actually really good.”
Speaking of Clem, the mastermind behind Nothing Nice to Say and My Stupid Life is also the founder of the new comic/seven-inch series Turnstile Comix. Issue #1 happens to sport a trio of stories about plus a blue seven-inch from the aforementioned Slow Death. It’s a neat project for people who like fun.
Clem and his fiancée, Nation of Amanda, turn in a solid debut issue. The best humor comes from failure, which is generally what #1 focuses on. Clem introduces The Slow Death by talking about he completely embarrassed himself at a show they played. Thorson then spins a couple of tales about touring (One of them is about pee!).
The stories have a certain rambling quality, only to just sort of end abruptly, but they’re still funny and the art looks good. But in order for the comics to really, truly matter, the included seven-inch needs to rock faces. Accordingly, The Slow Death included four top notch tunes about drinking and failing. They’re the kind of tunes that need to be played loud/fast to avoid bumming everyone out.
“Poor Little Fool” opens the vinyl with a burst of big hooks and Lucero-ish instrumentation. “Bart’s People” boasts a super catchy chorus and the most depressing verses this side of The Smiths. Sample lyric: “There is no happy ending / This ain’t no fairy tale / There is no heaven up above us / There is just this living hell / And you die at the end.” Huzzah! “A Little Bit More” goes from atheism to drinking, and drinking a lot. “Punchlines (Suck My Ass, It Smells, Pt. 2)” is (probably) about getting fired. But it goes on a great, throaty gang vox part, so clearly Thorson wins out in the end.
Turnstile Comix is pretty dang promising, both as a comic book series and as a debut from The Slow Death. Here’s hoping for more from Clem and TSD, and soon.
While I have been a Flogging Molly fan for about a decade now, I have gone through the same hem/haw scenario over every album post-Drunken Lullabies. More specifically, I’m waiting for this band with a very niche sound to start sucking. While I would never dismiss Flogging Molly’s Irish folk-punk as a novelty, I certainly understand why others would. FM has dropped four great records so far, but there’s only so far they can take their amped up Pogues worship before they hit a wall.
Speed of Darkness is that wall. It’s doubly unfortunate, given that it’s the band’s first self-released record since Alive Behind the Green Door back in 1997. But the album just can’t find a clear direction, despite many tunes exploring paths beyond the traditional FM style. While some tunes repeat the super fast, super Irish route like the opening title track and “Saints & Sinners,” a decent chunk of the record actually goes towards new territory.
The album’s first half is stronger. “Revolution” is a jubilant working class anthem with an insistent bassline. “The Heart of the Sea” has a really catchy cut time break in between verses. It’s actually a bit of a surprise coming from Flogging Molly, since slowing down isn’t really their deal, but the groove is infectious. Also enjoyable: The folksy duet near the end of the album between frontman Dave King and wife/violinist/tin whistler Bridgette Regan on“A Prayer For Me in Silence.” It’s just cute.
But Speed of Darkness doesn’t have enough of those successes. The album’s second half is too heavy on slower tunes. “The Cradle of Humankind,” for example, is a lengthy, dull piano ballad. A surprise coming from Flogging Molly certainly, but good luck with that one live. At the same time, the new songs that mimic old material pass by without much notice. Granted, punk rock has a limited number of moves, and a subgenre with the genre like Celtic punk has even fewer, but it’s still weird to finally, finally be disappointed by Flogging Molly. While I’m sure plenty of fans will still be on board with the band’s latest, I think I need to sit this one out.
Initially, Against Me!’s new demo collection Total Clarity looks exactly like 2009’s The Original Cowboy, that is, a companion piece one of the band’s proper studio albums. But they’re actually divergent in content. Original Cowboy is, arguably, a superior, more raw performance of the material that became Eternal Cowboy. Total Clarity instead offers lesser quality versions of old material, boosted by some tunes that have never been available commercially.
Total Clarity does not best Searching For a Former Clarity. But it is an interesting curio for the most devoted AM! fan. Some tunes, like “Miami” and “Searching For a Former Clarity,” here retitled “Total Clarity,” sound about the same as their finished versions, minus audio fidelity and a lyric tweak or two. Other tunes, like “Mediocrity Gets You Pears (The Shaker)” and “How Low,” actually do sound different enough, either through a tempo shift or a new approach to the chorus. But these demos aren’t on par Original Cowboy. That release faster, louder, and angrier, therefore making it better. Total Clarity is built on reference tracks that don’t quite warrant a separate release.
The collection’s selling point, then, is the “new” material. Total Clarity boasts two previously unreleased tunes, plus a cover of The Brains’ “Money Changes Everything.” The cover is pretty catchy. “Exhaustion & Disgust” is pretty thoroughly OK. It sounds on par with the kind of songs AM! was writing at the time, but compared to Searching’s solid tracklisting, I understand why it was left off. Searching was essentially AM!’s Lola Versus Powerman, an indictment of the music business and music fans alike, but “Exhaustion” is a little too on-the-nose. Besides, “Problems” and “Even at Our Worst We're Still Better Than Most (The Roller)” are catchier.
The other new old track, “Lost and Searching in America,” might have had a chance though. As is, it’s a little muddled lyrically and musically, but there are some great parts that could have been scavenged for another song. That intro is just fireworks. “Lost” was maybe a revision or two away from being great; as is, it’s a couple of good verses in search of a chorus.
Original Cowboy at least kind of made sense, even if it was still a cash grab on Fat Wreck Chords’ part. Total Clarity is a little less essential, although diehards will surely be grateful for the smidgeon of new music, at least until the new AM! seven-inch drops next month.
[myPod is an attempt to edit down my CD collection as I import my music on to my brand new 160 GB iPod.]
Daft Punk
I got into the French techno robot duo Daft Punk in high school via the anime music videos for their second album Discovery. I’ve even got the collected film Interstella 5555 on DVD. Discovery remains my favorite DP record, a joyful blend of dance-friendly hooks and up-with-people lyrics. It’s a pick-me-up for sure, but it also kept me from checking out the rest of the band’s discography, as most writers agree that Discovery is far and away the best DP release.
While I agree with that conventional wisdom, I have been surprised and delighted by the group’s other records. Homework’s songs are a little bit longer and more repetitive, but it’s another party starter. Human After All, meanwhile, gets a bad rap. Released after the critically and commercially successful Discovery, Human was a 180 that alienated many. Where Discovery was a lush, intricate, warm work, Human was recorded quickly in six weeks with just guitar, keyboard, and a drum machine. It’s a very retro-minded, minimalist electronic record, and it’s not nearly as bad as reviews suggest. But it’s still a bit of a disappointment after Discovery, something the group rectified with its live show.
Alive 2007 captures an amazing Daft Punk set that remixed the first three full-lengths to great success, and proves that Human wasn’t so bad after all. The Tron: Legacy soundtrack followed a few years later, and it’s another stylistic departure, taking the original Tron score and streamlining it with a digital cool. It’s not a party record, but it combines orchestral and electronic music beautifully. It was actually one of my favorite albums of 2010.
Verdict: Keep.
Damn the Lions
Adorable, acoustic indie-pop from New Jersey’s beloved Robb Masters. RIYL Elliot Smith and Bright Eyes.
Verdict: Keep.
The Darjeeling Limited
I love Wes Anderson’s movies, and Darjeeling Limited might be my favorite, although The Royal Tenenbaums is obviously up there too. The soundtrack follows some of Anderson’s twee conventions – like half of The Kinks’ Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoround shows up – but it also includes some neat French and Indian tunes. And the movie ends with “Les Champs-Élysées!” How cool is that?!
Verdict: Keep.
The Dark Knight
I am all about Hans Zimmer’s work with Christopher Nolan. His work on The Dark Knight actually holds up outside of the film, especially his riveting theme for the Joker. That song communicates a reckless danger so beautifully. I can’t wait to hear what he comes up with for The Dark Knight Rises.
Verdict: Keep.
Dashboard Confessional
As an American youth, it’s important that I define myself through the pop culture I enjoy. Hence, I have, at various points in my life, been emo. It’s kind of like being Catholic, where you know a couple cool acts like Sunny Day Real Estate and/or Jesus Christ but mostly just apologize for all the dumb shit other emo kids/Catholics do. Dashboard Confessional’s Chris Carrabba has always been a controversial figure despite his seemingly innocent songwriting. The dude writes sappy love songs and bitter break-up ballads. That’s all he does, but DC continues to draw criticism for…
Sucking.
Being one of the first emo figureheads to really reduce women to the Madonna/whore status emo took on during the ’00s.
Sucking.
I’m not going to apologize for the second allegation. Yeah, DC doesn’t offer much insight into women. But when I was 14, DC gave me a place to hide out in. Swiss Army Romance was a collection of raw, acoustic love songs that I used to defend for years. So Impossible was even better, a mini-concept album about one really good date. In between the two came DC’s big break, The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most, which added a full band and fleshed out Carrabba’s songs. This was the period people my age might call “the good years.”
2003’s A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar had bigger pop rock aspirations, which means emo kids hated it even though it took DC’s best song, “Hands Down,” and made it better. Everything after that was intermittently good (“So Long, So Long!”), but generally speaking Carrabba has been stuck in an adolescent holding pattern. Still, I held on to the early years.
Then a funny thing happened. I actually put the old records on and found out that Carrabba’s lyrics were clumsy and cliché and always had been. While I can still get behind other sad sack acts like Bright Eyes and The Cure, I have aged out of Dashboard Confessional’s demographic. Part of me can’t let go of So Impossible, though. It’s an emo touchstone and the songs remind me too much of who I was. I’m not ready to erase that just yet, but let’s see where I’m at in five years.
Verdict: Sell everything besides So Impossible.
Miles Davis
One day I bought Birth of the Cool for the heck of it. It’s one of Miles Davis’ first albums, and while it’s pretty tame compared to what he achieved in jazz in the decades to come, I still think it’s a really good starting point (Aside from maybe Kind of Blue), in that it’s a pleasant-sounding record that mellows me out. The two albums that made me fall in love with Davis’ work and jazz in general (at least potentially, since I really only know Davis and Charles Mingus at this juncture) are Bitches Brew and A Tribute to Jack Johnson. Bitches Brew is this otherworldly cacophony that makes most experimental records sound stupid by comparison. Johnson skews more towards jazz/rock fusion, which works even though it shouldn’t. The album is only two songs long, but opener “Right Off” is an amazing James Brown-indebted rocker. I think of Johnson as more of a guitar album than I do a trumpet one, as John McClaughlin’s raw playing carries the record. I still have a long ways to go in Davis’ discography, but so far it’s been a rather rewarding journey.
[Vinyl Vednesday is a weekly feature about three favorite vinyl finds. It’s not meant to be a dick measuring contest, but it usually turns out that way. E-mail pelonej1@gmail.com with your own big finds!]
Records: Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Creedence Clearwater Revival (1968) on black, George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass (1970) on black, and Refused’s The Shape of Punk to Come: A Chimerical Combination in 12 Bursts (1998) on CAN I SCREAM?! WOOOOOO.
Place of Purchase: CCR came from Siren Records in Doylestown. The Quiet One was purchased at Hideaway Music in Chestnut Hill. Refused burst through my face via Repo Records in Philadelphia.
Thoughts: The first Creedence Clearwater Revival album has “I Put a Spell On You” and the full 8.5-minute version of “Suzie Q.” It’s pretty a pretty got-damn good collection of American rock and/or roll. I hate sounding like an old fart, but CCR makes almost every rock group currently in the mainstream sound dumb as butts. Guitarists John and Tom Fogerty have such a raw sound, yet the tunes still have such a great groove to them. This record sounds good at any volume.
Up next on your classic rock block is George Harrison’s first proper solo album (excluding the experimental records Wonderwall Music and Electronic Sound) All Things Must Pass. It’s the arguably the best of the Fab Four’s post-Beatles work, although John Lennon’s Plastic Ono Band is close. Still, I can’t argue with what might be the only good triple-album besides The Clash’s Sandinista!. All Things Must Pass is full of big Phil Spector Wall of Sound touches and Beatle melodies. It gets heavy at times (“Let It Down,” the instrumental third LP), but its best moments are its most contemplative, whether it be the religious peace of “My Sweet Lord” or the calm acceptance that nothing lasts forever on the title track. This one’s just a great, lush-sounding record, perfect for the warm weather.
In complete contrast to all those good vibes mentioned above is Refused’s best album, The Shape of Punk to Come. Essentially taking Nation of Ulysses’ style to a bigger, louder level, this is still, 13 years later, one of the best hardcore records ever. It’s heavier than your mother but with a groove. It’s punk with soul rhythms. I had an important meeting at work a couple of weeks ago scheduled for 6 a.m. I was supposed to give a couple of presentations, so to get myself amped up at such a godless hour, I put “New Noise” on repeat. I blew my voice out before I even got to work, but I put on a heck of a show.
In a sense, Face to Face’s break-up never quite felt real. The band called it quits after the 2003 Warped Tour, then decided to reunite a year later for a proper farewell tour. Two years later, they released Punk Rock Eats Its Own, a documentary about the group’s history. Just two years after that, the group reunited and started touring again. Now in 2011, Face to Face has finally issued a follow-up to their supposed swansong, How to Ruin Everything.
While it wasn’t billed as such when it was released in 2002, Ruin sounds like a fitting final record, and its legacy looms over new record Laugh Now… Laugh Later. Ruin had a raw, live sound and the band’s fastest songs in years. Some tunes had a nostalgic air to them, like “Shoot the Moon.” The acoustic concluding title track had finality to it. The record just felt like such a great closing chapter.
Laugh Now thus has a few strikes against it. Self-produced by members Trever Keith and Scott Shiflett, the record lacks the punch Chad Blinman brought to Ruin. Face to Face always had a strong bass presence, but the low end doesn’t strike me anything special this time out. Laugh is also a lot slower, something made more obvious when hearing the new material performed live. Maybe it can be chalked up to time away from the studio, but it’s not like the members stopped making music. Really, the Face to Face moniker was just retired so Keith and Shiflett could return to exploring the more experimental, ambient textures of Ignorance is Bliss with acts like Viva Death and Real Space Noise.
But forget the whole “preserving the legacy” thing and Laugh Now becomes something else: A pretty catchy pop-punk album. It’s definitely more melodic than Ruin. It even boasts a first for Face to Face; “All For Nothing” is a genuine ’80s style love song on par with Modern English or Psychedelic Furs. There are glimmers of aggression on opening track “Should Anything Go Wrong.” Taken overall, it’s a solid record.
Laugh Now isn’t the worst F2F release (My pick: Reactionary), but it also doesn’t dislodge their finest works either. But for those of us missing them something fierce, it’s a welcome return from one of the ’90s best punk bands. I can only hope it educates a new generation of fans.
