2009 In Music: The Final 'Aught Music' Year

Well, this is it. I think I've hinted at it quite a bit in my last two updates, but we're winding down this year. There have been hundreds of amazing analyses and unabashed musical passions; it's not false modesty when I say that I was humbled when invited to join this collective. Many thanks go out to Jeremy P. Bushnell for starting this project and doing all of the behind-the-scenes updates and work. More thanks go out to the dedicated writers who put a lot of effort into Aught Music, all for the sake of enthusiasm.

So, here are my final selections, a few tracks that I felt were the best of this year. There's still a week left. Keep reading and checking out the other writers, and get the free track downloads while they are still available.

1.) "The Wanting Comes In Waves/Repaid" and "The Rake's Song" by The Decemberists (from the album The Hazards Of Love)

"The Wanting Comes In Waves/Repaid:"

Okay, I'm a little biased. I've gushed about the Decemberists for a long time, but still—this is my pick for the album of 2009. It's surprising how many magazines and sites have given The Hazards Of Love borderline reviews. If you're not a Decemberists fan, you might dismiss these tracks. However, this album not only adds more complex storytelling but uses guest vocals for maximum effects.

In "The Wanting Comes In Waves/Repaid," Shara Worden (of My Brightest Diamond) provides an excellent, compelling interpretation of the evil queen in the album's narrative. She's singing and acting at the same time—listen to her draw out the word 'repaid.' Her voice is stunning and controlling. Meloy wisely lets her have the listener's complete attention.

"The Rake's Song:"

"The Rake's Song" is one of the most straight-up rock tracks that the Decemberists have written. Meloy writes the character as completely without redemption or qualities. How many songs have a narrator describing how he killed his children?

Charlotte I buried after feeding her foxglove
Dawn was easy: She was drowned in the bath
Isaiah fought but was easily bested
Burned his body for incurring my wrath

It's gratuitous and over the top, but perfectly fitting for a villian straight out of Victorian fiction.

The album needs to be listened to in its entirety, but these tracks are the best examples of the full story. It's an ambitious effort, and a great example of how guest vocalists (Worden and Becky Stark) can add to a song's atmosphere. The Decemberists have a specific style, and it's not for everyone—but it's hard to deny the efforts and dimensions that went into the narrative structure, which enhances the music greatly.

2.) "Effigy" by Andrew Bird (from the album Noble Beast)

When I originally reviewed this album, I gave it some earnest praise, but felt that it didn't match up to Bird's earlier works. However, a few more listens have revealed a few ideas that I intially missed. "Effigy" is moving, and musically, it's one of Bird's minimalist efforts. His penchant for combining varying vocal styles and multiple instruments is stripped down,making for what feels like a soft, singer-songwriter type track. His musical talents and acumen could have made this a longer, more complex song, but "Effigy" is a great example of less being more. Most importantly, it shows that he's comfortable in any given style.

3.) "This Tornado Loves You" by Neko Case (from the album Middle Cyclone)

It's what's on the inside that counts. For all the (well-deserved) attention to Case's sexy, almost campy album cover, the songs on Middle Cyclone were fantastic, with one or two misses. "This Tornado Loves You" is the perfect opening to what's superficially referred to as a 'nature album.' The melody is upbeat, the vocals are confident, and the lyrics are a great example of Case's gift for metaphor:

I carved your name across three counties
and ground it in with bloody hides
broken necks will line the ditch

Perhaps some might view this as a metaphor for a woman scorned, but for me, it goes beyond simple gender classifications. Sometimes, when we're trying to get someone's attention, we end up doing more harm than good.

(Note: This was part of a roundtable post, with further commentary by Rich Thomas. Click on the song link for the full writings. I'd also like to thank Jeff Ignatius of Culture Snob for pointing out that, in interviews, Case explains that the song is meant literally, which rightfully takes away from my interpretations, but also provides another shade to this already poignant track.)

4.) "Summertime Clothes" by Animal Collective (from the album Merriweather Post Pavilion)

Upon reflection, it's staggering to remember the varied albums that came out, of all the months, in January. Andrew Bird, A.C. Newman, Morrissey, Franz Ferdinand...but, no album set the tone quite like Animal Collective's Merriweather Post Pavilion. I was working in Seattle before this disc dropped and had the fortune to work with and become good friends with Terrance Terich, co-founder of Treblezine.com. After long discussions about music, he burned me a copy of this album, among others. I immediately agreed with him (and everyone else) that this was already one of the best albums of the year. "Summertime Clothes" is an addicting single, with a varied mix of sounds and influences. The emphasis here is on the notion of "collective"--this is a true group effort. I love how the group blends sampling and small sounds (listen carefully--it almost sounds like there are sound effects mixed in) with vocals and guitar that could have come from the 1970s. I played the crap out of this during the dreary winter, and it helped alleviate the depression of Lynnwood, Washington.

2006 In Music: Recap

After a week off, Aught Music will resume tomorrow with the best tracks of 2007. This has been an amazing project to contribute to, and I'm sure that 2007-2009 will fly by as we approach the end of this year. Here are my contributions from 2006. Just like with my previous updates, click on the links below for free listens/downloads.

1.) "(Do You Wanna) Come Walk With Me?" by Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan (from the album Ballad Of the Broken Seas)

With quite a few of my selections for this project, I've written about how some female singers can sound strong and fragile at the same time. Mark Lanegan does that perfectly on this track. He and Campbell sound amazing together on this disc, but I almost wish that this particular song was a solo for him.

I'm not saying I love you, I won't say I'll be true,
There's a crimson bird flying when I go down on you
I'm so weary and lonesome and it's cold in the night,
When the path to your doorway is a pathway of light.

There are very few songs that can be evocations of both masculinity, insecurity, and sensitivity. Lanegan sounds tough, but there's much more being painfully pushed down below the surface. Jeremy wrote about The National expressing masculinity in the twenty-first century on the track "All the Wine." While these are two vastly different songs, I think that "Come Walk With Me" is another chapter in intelligent musical looks at what it means to be a man, fraught with complexities and a myriad of emotions.

2.) "Sons & Daughters" and "O! Valencia" by The Decemberists (from the album The Crane Wife)

"Sons & Daughters":

With this track, three simple adjectives sum it up quite well: moving, simple, and beautiful. Given the winding story arcs and characters featured on the rest of the album, it's amazing that it ends on such a small treasure.

When we arrive, sons & daughters
We'll make our homes on the water
We'll build our walls with aluminum
We'll fill our mouths with cinnamon.

Personally, I'll always hold this song very close. When The Crane Wife was released, my eldest brother was serving his second tour in the Iraq War. For varying reasons, I was much more scared and despondent during that second year, as if the reality of it all had truly hit me. Many a night, I was moved to tears by the closing lines:

Here all the bombs fade away,
Here all the bombs fade away.

He returned home safely, and that Christmas, I put "Sons & Daughters" as the final song on a mix CD that I made for him. I've never explained this significance to anyone until now.

"O! Valencia":

Yes, this story line has been done a million and one times, spanning every medium, and most well known from "Romeo and Juliet" and "West Side Story." So on, so forth, etc. Two lovers find themselves carrying on a secret tryst under the noses of their warring families. However, as familiar as this is, it's hard to listen to it and not root for the lovers to live happily every after, even if it's an obvious lost cause.

All I heard was the shout
Of your brother calling me out
And you ran like a fool to my side.

Both in this song and the official music video, the Decemberists do their usual job of taking a subject steeped in history and nostalgia and giving it a modern spin. It's not nearly as inventive as what they're capable of, but it's a great listen.
(Note: This post was part of a roundtable with Rich Thomas, who writes about his take on "O! Valencia.")

3.) "Star Witness" and "Maybe Sparrow" by Neko Case (from the album The Fox Confessor Brings the Flood)

"Star Witness":

This has one of my votes for the best song of the decade, not just for 2006. As stunning as her voice is, Case earns major credit for her songwriting talent. This is a loose "homage" to the rough Chicago neighborhood of Humboldt Park, and it's staggering how she can take such haunting moments and turn a complex poem into a beautiful song.

Hey pretty baby, get high with me
We can go to my sister's if we say we'll watch the baby,
The look on your face yanks my neck on the chain.

The first time I heard this, I played that last line at least ten times in a row, rewinding my CD a few seconds back. Forgive my hyperbole, but it's a punch in the stomach everytime I hear it. Songs, poems, and books are full of metaphors, but that one is literally perfect, both in the delivery and the context of the track.

"Maybe Sparrow":

I'll be honest: I still don't really know what this song means, or even if it's supposed to mean anything. The album is laced with mythogical animal imagery, so this is appropriate. I love how Case's voice rises, along with the music, to create a stunning chorus:

Oh, my sparrow, it's too late
Your body limp beneath my feet.

I always get very reflective whenever I hear this track. It's so short, yet packs some dizzying arrangements and atmospheres. As I type this, I realize that this description could fit quite a few of Case's songs. It's very difficult to explain, but this track is the one I would use to explain to anyone why Case is my favorite female vocalist. I guess that's the beauty of great music: it moves me in definite ways that, as a writer, I'm at a loss to express.
(Note: This post is part of another roundtable with Rich Thomas, who writes about the album as a whole.)

4.) "It Wasn't Me" by Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins (from the album Rabbit Fur Coat)

It's amazing how confident and sultry Jenny Lewis can sound, even when a given track is intended to sound lonely and depressing. Her voice barely rises above a forced whisper, and it creates a moody, echoing atmosphere, a sort of modern spin on the torch songs of the classic female vocalists of the early to mid 20th century. As depressed as she sounds, there's a hint of defiance in the lyrics, which are open to varying interpretations.

It wasn't me, I wasn't there
I was stone drunk, it isn't clear
And it doesn't count because I don't care.

The point of view can be interpreted as an intentional distance from any negative situation. Insert the situation of your choosing, and the song will more than likely fit perfectly.

2004 In Music: Recap

I'm hoping that everyone is keeping up with the almost daily music reviews at Aught Music, recapping the best tracks of our waning decade. 2005 is kicking off this week! Since this is a joint project involving several people, there are much more prolific, well-versed folks submitting their picks. Here are the reviews I submitted for 2004. Click on the links for a free listen.

1.) "How We Know" by the Thermals (from the album Fuckin A):

You spoon water like love and I will take it if you can take it...

"How We Know" is one of those infectious songs that can get stuck in your head very easily. Giving it a careful listen, however, I realize that it's probably not one of the greatest songs ever. The lyrics fill in as repetitive space holders for the throbbing beat, occasionally erupting into what feels like a jam session. There's nothing earth-shattering about this, but goddamn, it's a great song to rock out to from time to time. Hutch Harris' voice is perfect for this, and the rock-out parts sound much bigger than a trio would normally sound. One of the heavy criticisms of mainstream pop is that it's mindless and packaged to sound the same. A song like "How We Know" shows that indie rock can also have its share of mindless jams. Every genre has its share of music that simply boils down to "fun," and this song is no exception. The Thermals have written better songs, but this one always puts me in a good mood.

2.) "Soulful Shade Of Blue" by Neko Case, covering Buffy Saint-Marie (from the album The Tigers Have Spoken):

Case is one of those rare artists who can blend original material and cover songs effortlessly, with said cover songs working more as homages than new interpretations. Given her status as one of the best live performers of today, "Soulful Shade Of Blue" works on all of these levels. It's a very simple, almost quaint tale of lost love and redemption.

Dressmaker, dressmaker,
I'm singing at the hall next saturday night and he'll be there.
He's been gone for so long, I want him back again,
Make me the sweetest dress you can.

Make it a soulful shade of blue with a ribbon at the hem,
A ribbon white for loyalty to show that I remember when
A soulful shade of blue looked into my eyes
And tell him I want him back again.

Originally recorded by Buffy Saint-Marie, Case sings "Soulful Shade Of Blue" in a virtually identical arrangement, albeit with backup vocals and at a faster pace. Case's own songs are complex, metaphor-laden looks at love and life in both urban and rural settings, and this cover feels like a minimalist version of her own material. It's intentionally old-fashioned, catchy, and highlights the amazing legacy of Canada's musical history. I've seen Case perform this song twice, and it has always been one of her best staples. Everything that she stands for can be found in these two and a half minutes.

3.) "The Dark Of the Matinee" by Franz Ferdinand (from the album Franz Ferdinand):

Before Arcade Fire and Wolf Parade, it's safe to say that no band truly exploded on the scene like Franz Ferdinand, all hyberbole necessary. Their self-titled debut album did not have one throwaway track on it, with each one worthy of consideration for the best of the Aughts. I've been listening to this album for five years, and every track has gone through a spell as one of my favorites. "The Dark of the Matinee" wins, since it combines both of their sounds: hard rocking and a soft, almost ballad-like style. The lyrics are full of both meticulous detail and enough "wiggle room" to leave parts open for interpretation.

I charm you and tell you of the boys I hate
All the girls I hate
All the clothes I hate
How I'll never be anything I hate.

This song came awfully close to being overplayed a few years back, and listening to it for the first time in quite awhile in preparation for this writing, I was reminded of how Franz Ferdinand combines great sounds that anyone can appreciate with subtle hints of elitism and bravado. This song has an addictive chorus, amazing lyrics, and was a hint of things to come. They've matured with their last two albums, but at the same time, this debut was pretty hard to follow.
(Note: This was part of a music roundtable with fellow blogger Rich Thomas.)

4.) "Bukowski" by Modest Mouse (from the album Good News For People Who Love Bad News):

Yes, yes, yes. The obvious choice would be "Float On," and while that is one of the great songs of this decade, I've always had a soft spot for "Bukowski." When I first listened to this song, I immediately assumed it was a fun homage/criticique of the notorious author, but in fact, it's much more. Charles Bukowski is merely an example in the lyrics, which are much more profound than they appear at first. The song is an open-ended question of problem of goodness combined with human nature. In essense, nobody is spared, not even God:

If God controls the land and disease,
keeps a watchful eye on me,
If he's really so damn mighty,
my problem is I can't see,
well who would wanna be?
Who would wanna be such a control freak?
Well who would wanna be?
Who would wanna be such a control freak?

Issac Brock's scratchy, guttural voice is pitch-perfect for the tough questions of this song. The music is somewhat jarring, at times sounding like a mash of notes that get jumbled, but right themselves just in time. It's not a particularly easy listen, since the lyrics are sometimes rushed and mumbled, and the instruments (especially the banjo sequences) almost sound angry in some way. However, despite appearing cynical, the song works as an almost metaphysical query. If this is true, then it works like a Bukowski short story: underneath the hard exterior, there are some intelligent ideas and sympathetic questions.
(Note: This was another roundtable with Rich Thomas.)

2005 kicks off this week. I'm very excited about reading the submissions, since I think that 2005 was arguably the best year of the Aughts. Keep reading and supporting everyone in this endeavor!

Coming Full Circle

With U2 having the most high-profile new release this week, it's a victory for Neko Case's Middle Cyclone, which is holding its own with the legendary heavyweights. And, at first glance, she's getting much better early reviews. The buzz has been building for months, most likely fueled by the universal praise for 2006's landmark The Fox Confessor Brings the Flood. This dynamic is beautiful and doesn't happen as often as it should. Case has not changed a thing about her approach, still affiliating with excellent indie labels (Anti-), doing a lot of tireless self-promotion, yet she has been embraced by the mainstream. She might never have a Top 40 hit, which is probably fine by her. It's always literally been about the music since she started.

Middle Cyclone seems to be a return to her alt-country roots, a designation that seems to be occasionally misplaced on her. Some of her best songs ("Deep Red Bells," "Star Witness") would be better classified along the lines of "alt-neighborhood." They're not so much small-town (read: country) songs, but they're not big city anthems, either. Her first albums were stunning mixes of country and neighborhood stories (Tacoma, Washington and Humboldt Park in Chicago), worries, and angst. Then, Fox Confessor Brings the Flood went in a vastly different direction, taking those influences and blending them with modern folktales and mythologies. Middle Cyclone has been lauded for its nature imagery but there's much more to the picture. It's like saying Philadelphia has cheese steaks. Sure, it's true, but there's much more to take in.

The opening track, "This Tornado Loves You," is a wonderful, breezy song, combining Neko's vocals at their most confident, telling an offbeat love anthem from the point of view of said tornado. However, the album then takes a sharp turn in the opposite direction. "The Next Time You Say Forever" is quick and melancholy, hitting its target both heart-wrenchingly and violently. It would have fit in perfectly on 2002's Blacklisted. These two tracks are Case at her finest, both raucous and vulnerable. Returning to the nature motif, the album closes with the calming/eerie (take your pick) "Marais La Nuit," a thirty minute audio recording taken by Case at her farm in Vermont. Faint cricket chirps are the only sounds. Some might see this as an unnecessary addition to Middle Cyclone, but knowing the backstory helps. I like the mental image that accompanies the sounds--Case, quietly sitting outside, taking in a solitary night. It's definitely the emotional opposite of the fantastic album cover.

The only blemish on this album is the cover of Sparks's "Never Turn Your Back On Mother Earth." This is hands down Neko Case's worst song, which is sad, since she's usually a master of cover songs (Harry Nilsson's "Don't Forget Me" is a return to this form six songs later). "Never Turn Your Back On Mother Earth" has its heart in the right place as an impassioned plea for environmental awareness. However, it has too much schmaltz for Case, not to mention being too blatant. I'm sure she could have written her own version with the same message, with more metaphorical brilliance.

Overall, this album is terrific, with hints to her alt-country roots. It doesn't have the instant classic vibe of Fox Confessor, but listeners shouldn't be expecting that anyway. Her voice is as beautiful as ever, and her songwriting hasn't lost any originality (for example, take lines like "wretching pennies in a boiling well" or "waiting with a glacier's patience"). Since the songs switch tempos frequently (as between tracks one and two), Middle Cyclone feels like a live album. Case's ardent supporters (myself included) will look forward to these songs being integrated into her live sets.

Great Music, Greater Cause

2009 is already shaping up to be a year filled with very noteworthy album releases, with Neko Case's Middle Cyclone dropping on March 3rd. In addition to this release, she is teaming up with her label, ANTI- and Best Friends Animal Society to spread the word on the first song off the album to be released, entitled "People Got A Lotta Nerve." The beauty of this is that for every blog that posts the MP3, five dollars will be donated to Best Friends. Click their link for more information, and check out the introductory video. The song is phenomenal, which should only fuel excitement for the rest of the disc.

MP3--"People Got A Lotta Nerve," Neko Case

Wallace Stevens, Neko Case, and Jean-Luc Godard Walk Into a Bar...

As I've mentioned before, I'm currently working on a novel, trying to get a cohesive outline done, and tentatively drafting the opening two chapters. Once I get the first two chapters done, it's back to the drawing board, so to speak, since I have a few plot points that need to be carefully laid out. In addition to this, I have a few other fiction projects in the works, so I'm bracing myself for the next couple of months, when I'm sure to alternate between feeling productive/happy, and stalled/disgusted. I'm not at all saying that I'm going to have the novel done in a couple of months; far from it. I'll be happy if I have those first two chapters completely finished, let alone the entire project.

As I get to work (in addition to keeping this blog running at a consistent schedule), I know that I need to take a few moments to breathe and not get too caught up (I'm a master of beating myself up, especially when it comes to writing). In a wonderful case of coincidence, I've experienced three outside creative moments this week, little slices of wonder that have put me at ease and helped me savor the idea of creativity in all its forms. These have no bearing or relation to my fiction projects, yet they've been strangely peaceful, and I feel like there's some connection.

First, last week I bought a used copy of The Palm at the End Of the Mind, a poetry collection by Wallace Stevens. His name has come up a few times in my readings and research in the past couple of weeks, added to the fact that I'm way behind on poetry studies. As I read through parts of the book, I stumbled across a stanza in "Thirteen Ways Of Looking at a Blackbird," a sampling of lines that I read several times at once, astonished by the emotions and imagery packed in such a small space:

VI
"Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause."
(Stevens 20-21)

I didn't know why it caught me so suddenly at the time, but now that I read it yet again, I'm stunned at the simple construction of eerie foreshadowing.

Then, a few days later, I was listening to one of my favorite albums, Neko Case's Fox Confessor Brings the Flood. Everytime I listen to the song "Star Witness," I get chills when I hear the lines:

"The look on your face yanks my neck on the chain..."

The atmosphere does not diminish no matter how many times I listen to it. I can think of dozens of awesome (in the literal sense) song metaphors by many different bands/musicians, but that one line hits me in the stomach everytime, always carrying the same impact.

Finally, yesterday I watched a movie I've been meaning to see for a long time, Jean-Luc Godard's Band Of Outsiders (1964). Overall, I enjoyed it (mildly disappointing, but that's besides the point). The cafe dance sequence is one that has been cited and referenced many times, but seeing it for myself made me smile. It's so spontaneous and fun, and viewers can easily tell that the actors are enjoying it.

I'm always analyzing works as a whole (including my own), so I like being able to take these little moments at face value. Perhaps I was reading too much into my above statement of trying to make a connection. As I go about my projects, it's reassuring to know that great sequences can easily come in small samplings, in addition to complete works. The poem, the song, and the film were like therapy to me this week. Plus, don't most things come in threes?

Work Cited:

Stevens, Wallace. The Palm at the End Of the Mind. Copyright 1971 by Holly Stevens.