I've only had it a day, but PJ Harvey's Let England Shake is already my favorite record of 2011. That will quite possibly change come Saturday, but for now it's on repeat in my apartment.
This is one of those instances where I wish I had the liner notes, for reasons not the least of which being that Let England Shake is a World War I epic and I don't know nearly as much about World War I as I probably should. I'd love to see what she's got going on in print, if only to read the lyrics (yes, yes, I'll get them online and read them right after I finish this post; plus I'm planning to Instapaper just about any review I can find).
But the lyrics that have hit me so far -- soldiers longing to see a woman's face, the dead falling like lumps of meat, "England's dancing days are done" -- put you right in the trenches of some long-ago, black and white battle, a surreal feeling heightened by the infectious musical accompaniment in the title track (see below), the cavalry bugle in The Glorious Land -- even the callout to Eddie Cochran's golden oldie Summertime Blues in The Words That Maketh Murder (also below, though not quite the album version).
If you've ever been interested in PJ Harvey -- her Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea record is a modern classic, and she also did the haunting score for the Mary-Louise Parker production of Hedda Gabler I had the pleasure of seeing on Broadway a couple years back -- I'd say pick this one up.
I'm really just starting to dig into it myself -- there's a lot to digest here, and I'm basically still on the appetizer course -- but it's already clear this is a journey worth taking.
What would R.E.M.'s It Happened Today sound like if Eddie Vedder had sung lead? Probably better than this, but it's 5 o'clock in the morning and I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.
R.E.M.'s new single, Mine Smell Like Honey, is now available on iTunes. As usual, my sparring partner Eric is up in arms. Let's see if we can talk him off the *(&?!*%^@#( ledge already.
Dear Eric,
Usually, your monologues are a monument to ignorance and illiteracy. This time, while those traits are present as usual, your commentary takes on a new quality: desperation.
You seem to want, so terribly, for me to tell you that you're wrong, that Mine Smells Like Honey is indeed classic R.E.M., that the band is on top of its game, that Stipe & Co. still represent the very pinnacle of rock and roll. You compare Collapse Into Now to the latest record by Arcade Fire, an A-list band in its prime, and you wonder why Arcade Fire's songs sound better to you than R.E.M.'s new ones do.
I'm sorry to disappoint, but you're absolutely right. Arcade Fire is a better band than R.E.M. is right now. I feel like a broken record on this, and perhaps I am, but The Suburbs is Arcade Fire's third record. Collapse Into Now is R.E.M.'s 15th. There simply is no real basis for comparison between the two, and holding one up to the other is sheer madness. You're dooming yourself to disappointment and despair -- but to what purpose?
What do you gain by holding R.E.M. to such an impossible standard? Moreover, why does R.E.M. have to be the best, most important band in the world for you to love them? You've discussed on Facebook the possibility of shutting down your site -- a site devoted as much to the early history of the band as is it dedicated to the present -- because the band's recent output no longer thrills you like it did 20 years ago. But I think you owe it to yourself to relax your standards a bit. Imagine listening to the new songs and finding joy in them instead of disappointment. When I listen to Mine Smell Like Honey, I'm not anticipating the sudden realization that Collapse Into Now is gonna end up as the 2011 Matty Album of the Year. It's Arcade Fire's turn to vie for such honors. And yet I can still put new R.E.M. on and feel good about it. The new record isn't the be all and end all of my music collection -- nor does it need to be.
As much as you might want me to, I can't convince you that the new songs are good and I can't force you to like them. I'm a pretty stingy, stubborn critic myself. But in my initial disgust over Around the Sun, I realized in horror that my worst fears had come true -- R.E.M. was no longer truly relevant. At first I was angry, bitter, resentful -- and all around a pretty miserable son of a bitch on certain message boards. But, as the weeks and months passed, I came to terms with it -- and, like many things in life, the worrying was far worse than the reality. I've since found new artists to take R.E.M.'s place on the pedestal, and ever since, I've been perfectly fine winning small battles with the band, without worrying about the greater war.
In other words, a new R.E.M. record doesn't need to be Monster. I'll never be 16 again, and R.E.M. will never be 14. And that's okay.
At the same time, I feel reasonably confident, if not wholly convinced, that there is no way in hell Arcade Fire's 15th album will be as good as R.E.M.'s 15th. In fact I'd consider it a worthwhile wager that Arcade Fire will never even release a 15th record. You may consider that a good thing, but I disagree. I'd much rather have a decent bunch of songs to look forward to -- I've been playing the tracks from Collapse Into Now nonstop for weeks, singing along like I actually was 16 again -- and the new set of happy memories that go along with them, than be limited to their no-less brilliant back catalogue.
For this reason among others, I consider myself fortunate to be an R.E.M. fan. I think if you accepted reality, you'd feel fortunate too.
My ongoing conversation with REManklet.com continues today with the unveiling of a new R.E.M. song, Oh My Heart, which you can now hear at NPR's website.
It's nice to see you've recently become a fan of my favorite band, R.E.M.
I promise, as you set forth on your new adventure, that you won't be disappointed by the great majority of the band's back catalogue. If you're looking for something lovely and brooding, Automatic For The People is a good starting point for the casual fan, as is its Grammy-winning predecessor, Out Of Time. There may even be a song or two you recognize on those records from your favorite pop station back in the early '90s.
Perhaps you caught a verse of Shiny Happy People as you feverously twisted your FM dial in the hopes of hearing Kris Kross' anthem, Jump, which saved your ass on your first day of junior high, when you inadvertently showed up at homeroom with all your clothes on backwards. Or maybe The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite was sandwiched between a CeCe Peniston song and Eric Clapton's Tears In Heaven, to this day the most touching expression of love for a 4-year-old who fell to his death from a window ever to hit Top 40 radio -- as well as your first real foray into "grownup music."
I, and the reader(s) of REMring.com, look forward to your thoughts on such hits as Losing My Religion and Man On The Moon; I suggest, as a fun experiment, that you post your immediate impressions when you finally hear them, so the blogosphere can experience the raw sensation of discovery along with you.
Moving on, I applaud your positive response to Oh My Heart, despite your caveats, which I will address now. I happen to agree that Oh My Heart is a strong song, and, while yes, it may have been better had the band recorded it during their Stipe-as-master-crooner, Out Of Time-era heyday, that would have actually been impossible, as the song hadn't yet been written.
As for the lyrical reference to Houston, well, I would agree with you wholeheartedly if it weren't for the simple fact that the lyrical reference actually works here. It revisits a character and a time, updating a memorable phrase with its aftermath. That's very different from simply adding "part two!" to the lyrics -- which, by the way, is essentially what Metallica did for the song The Unforgiven II, their follow-up to another classic of your youth that helped shape you into the music fan you are today.
In all, I think we agree that Oh My Heart is a solid effort. I'm not sure if it is, as you assert, the best of the three tracks we've heard so far, but for me, that would be more of a compliment than it is for you. Still, I'm glad to have you on board. If you have any questions about the band, please don't hesitate. I suggest you try to see them on their next tour -- they put on a fantastic show, and I have a feeling you'd become a great enthusiast of their live oeuvre.
This year's race for Most Important Album, at least in my mind, came down to two records: Arcade Fire's The Suburbs and Kanye West's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. Of those, the overwhelming edge goes to Kanye, who so brilliantly transcended his own genre he easily won over a hip hop hater like myself.
But there's just one thing: My Album of the Year isn't intended to be given to the year's Most Important Album. It goes to my favorite album. And that, beyond the shadow of a doubt, was Laura Veirs' July Flame.
Kanye West's record was, and is, a megaton of fireworks and a landmark achievement that deserves all its accolades -- I picked it as Unwinnable's Album of the Year, after all -- but no record has meant as much to me as July Flame, which stayed fresh, spin after spin, all year long, finding new ways to hold onto me at every turn.
I bought July Flame when it came out last January, and it's been the record I've listened to the most just about every month since. While it only appeared on a few other people's year-end lists -- I know, because I've been looking for it -- it doesn't matter. July Flame tops mine.
Song after song is its own tiny treasure. I Can See Your Tracks is about knowing what path to avoid, and resigning yourself not to take it no matter how much it hurts. The title track treads similar ground, though this time it's about reaching out instead of falling back. Life Is Good Blues is about finding the right dance partner, while Summer Is The Champion is about rolling around in the grass with her (or him, if you're Laura Veirs). Carol Kaye is a fan's ode to a musical hero. Make Something Good, as I wrote in my nomination entry last month, is a prayer from creator to Creator -- a mission statement for an artist (or a human) of any stripe.
Each of July Flame's songs is so perfectly realized it stops mattering that the record lacks both the bravado and ambition of Kanye West's masterpiece. After all, an Album of the Year doesn't have to want to be an Album of the Year. Sometimes it's just right, as it is with July Flame -- start to finish, a record that feels like home. And that's something you can't measure intellectually.
Most Important is a title to strive for; Most Loved is something far less tangible, and, at the same time, all the more valuable.
Why else would they stop touring completely and yet still post these on YouTube? Karen, Don and Mike: You don't have to play a one-off show in NYC like I've been begging you to; just invite me over to your house for coffee and serenade me for a couple hours. Thanks, your friend Matt.
In my previous entry, I responded to the incoherent ramblings of one Eric Zimmermann, a fine young man who means well, he really does, but lacks the synapses necessary to compile anything resembling a cogent argument, let alone blog about it. Case in point, his latest piece -- which you can find here -- which I merely skimmed. I suggest you avoid reading it while operating heavy machinery or if weeping openly would put you in a compromising position. Also, you can download the two new R.E.M. tracks we've been discussing, Discoverer and It Happened Today, here and here, respectively.
Here is my refutation:
Dear Erin Zimmerberg,
Before we get to your latest adorable but failed attempt at music criticism, I'd like to take a moment to congratulate you on your recent bat mitzvah. By no means would I want to embarrass you, but your journey into womanhood is not to be taken lightly, and I celebrate your achievement in this holy and time-honored rite of passage. I was surprised you didn't post any photos from the synagogue on your blog; Rabbi Remnikoff said you held up very well on your torah, and I expected you to at least share the snapshots your aunt Sheila took with her new PowerShot camera.
No matter. Everyone expresses their joy in different ways. I know your Bubbe took some Flip video of you doing the Electric Slide at the reception, which I'm sure you'll put on YouTube post haste.
Moving on to the musical stylings of R.E.M. and the fantasy world your brain is whisked off to whenever said band is mentioned, I have read and ruminated upon your latest treatise. You contend that rock music is not just a young man's game, so maybe you can enlighten us as to the other rock bands that were still producing essential material into their third decade. While I can rest my case with just four words -- Get On Your Boots -- I have made a list of one band per decade that I consider in R.E.M.'s class when viewed in the context of rock music history, and looked into their output in later years.
The Beatles (1960s) Even though you've had The Fireman album on repeat for two years now, the actual Beatles disbanded after just eight years of recording. They did release two new tracks 34 years after their first record, on their Anthology collection, but unlike the tripe you seem to think the latest R.E.M. music is, they were forced to jam in guitars, drums and bass over vocals recorded by a man dead, at the time, for more than 15 years. Michael Stipe, on the other hand, has only been dead for five, six years tops. Advantage: R.E.M.
Led Zeppelin (1970s) A mere 42 years after Led Zeppelin was formed, Robert Plant is again thrilling Grammy voters with roots music I'm sure is just great but have absolutely no time or interest in ever actually listening to. Zeppelin lasted about ten years before their drummer kicked the bucket. Unlike R.E.M., they did not survive the death of John Bonham by producing a modern day classic like the post-Bill Berry masterpiece Up. Instead, they disbanded and Plant and Jimmy Page embarked on solo careers in the '80s only their mothers followed. Advantage: R.E.M.
U2 (1980s) Get On Your Boots. Advantage: R.E.M.
Of course, the importance of bands and the quality of their later work is subject to interpretation, but I think my point here is clear. And that point is:
If you are still expecting R.E.M. to release flawless, A-1 quality work, essential not only within their own catalogue but, by extension, within the rock music canon, you are, my friend, delusional.
No, Discoverer and It Happened Today are not mind-blowing works of pure genius. But they're halfway decent, which gives them a slight edge on George Harrison's highly acclaimed Cloud Nine album, despite the classic first single, I've Got My Mind Set On You, which, admittedly, set the world on fire. And that gem of a record came out a mere 25 years after the Beatles first unleashed Please Please Me unto the world.
An acquaintance of mine, Don Zimmerman, writes a satirical blog called REMRing.com, on which he pretends to know something about music. We've had our share of philosophical exchanges -- I highly recommend this one -- and now he has challenged me to an ongoing dialogue during the lead up to, and release of, R.E.M.'s forthcoming album, Collapse Into Now (street date: March 8, 2011).
Here is his opening salvo. I recommend reading it before proceeding to the response below. I also recommend downloading -- for free! -- the new R.E.M. song we discuss, Discoverer, here.
***
Dear Mr. Zimmer,
Let me first congratulate you on your many fine years of service to major league baseball, especially your championship seasons as Joe Torre's Yankee consigliere. Your services as bench coach provided much-appreciated wisdom and occasional comic relief, and for that I salute you.
Less admirable, though, is your misguided need to compare R.E.M. 2011 to the R.E.M. we both knew and obsessed over some 20-odd years ago. You even contradict yourself by assuming I will list previous R.E.M. albums the new song, Discoverer, reminds me of, in your ill-conceived pre-emptive strike at making a point about it lacking originality, while at the same time going out of your way to reference an R.E.M. track it doesn't remind you of. Both approaches are foolhardy.
Eric, if I can call you by your Internet pen name, I think you are forgetting one obvious, but indisputable fact:
R.E.M. is old.
In fact, the combined age of our three renowned electric minstrels from Athens, Ga., by my rough calculation, is approximately 376 years. And, as I've remarked on more than one occasion, Peter (I-dated-your-grandmother) Buck is, indeed, the motherfucking father of our country.
As hard as it may be to accept, no band of old farts has ever remained as vital as it was 20 years prior, let alone after 31 years, the anniversary R.E.M. will celebrate in April. To expect them to be would be both ridiculous and unfair -- two of the more unsavory qualities in your latest missive.
True, R.E.M. had long been an exception to this rule, making music I'd label essential well into their second decade. But no band is immune to the effects of time, and Michael Stipe would be a pretty immature prick if he still cared about the same things he did when he was in college. There are only so many songs one can write about paranoid schizophrenics attacking news anchors or one's own frustrations with being a media sensation. Eventually one becomes content -- and their art starts to suck.
As R.E.M. fans, we've been extremely lucky. We've only suffered through one truly awful record out of 14. We both know what that record is, and it will not be named here.
Granted, the new track's production leaves something to be desired and the lyrics can't hold a candle to Stipe during his heyday. Still, its chorus of shouts, coupled with Buck's blaring guitar, Mike Mills' thumping bass and Bill Rieflin's driving drumkit, is about as thrilling a moment as one can expect from a 31-year-old band -- and it's not even the first single, which all but a select few have yet to hear.
Discoverer, just because it is not What's The Frequency, Kenneth?, is neither a bad song, nor is it the worst opening cut of their distinguished career.
UPDATE: I have debated doing this before but in 17 years I've never done it ... until now. I have added a late-breaking nominee to the Album of the Year list, a record that was released just three days before this list was posted. (Hint: It's nominee No. 3.)
***
I don't always say this, but I love when I'm able to: It's been a terrific year for music. So instead of rambling on by way of an intro, let's get straight to the five nominees for RIB's 2010 Album of the Year (listed "alphabetically" as they appear on iTunes):
THE NOMINEES
Arcade Fire -- The Suburbs
If you know me well, you've probably heard me speak about seeing R.E.M.'s video for What's The Frequency, Kenneth? for the first time. The video, in a nutshell: A newly bald Michael Stipe makes love to a microphone stand while his band rocks out in front of what is eventually revealed to be a suburban home, projected onto a giant screen.
I appreciated the irony of a band selling its music to suburban kids longing to be just like them, beaming videos into our homes just as many of us were desperately trying to get the hell out.
Still, that was just a four-minute video, and while a lot of bands have written odes to suburbia in various forms, Arcade Fire's The Suburbs is instant canon. It's a deep, nuanced look at growing up in the 'burbs that is both critical and sentimental, the work of a new generation coming into its own, one you can easily imagine emerging from the house in the Kenneth video.
The Montreal rock band has cornered the market on songs about growing up -- Pitchfork suggests a drinking game based on how many times Win Butler sings the word "kids" on this record -- though it's a tad less romantic than it is at times on their debut Funeral. The Suburbs is sometimes adoring, sometimes angry -- and almost always transcendent.
Because growing up is part joy, part pain, part apathy, my first nominee is both a savage takedown and a loving ode. On the album's best song, Sprawl II, Regine Chassagne laments strip malls as far as the eye can see over one of the most infectious, Blondie-like beats you'll hear on an indie rock record. And that's just as it should be.
Broken Social Scene -- Forgiveness Rock Record
Four of the five nominees this year achieve greatness either as tomes on teenage angst, twilight drives into the night, rolls in summer lawns, or welcome disappearances into the woods. The fifth one, Broken Social Scene's Forgiveness Rock Record, has a wider, in some instances more overtly political scope, one a bit harder to pin down. Still, it's just as much a nominee for this basic reason: It freakin' rocks.
Don't get me wrong, Broken Social Scene's latest by no means lacks depth. There is a heck of lot to absorb here ("forgiveness" being the ostensible theme); like the band itself, the record is a conglomeration of a lot of different participants and ideas, a mix tape that isn't actually a mix tape. Chase Scene is both a thrilling and nerve-wracking promise to fight for one's life (especially jarring after what seems to be its moral opposite in the opening track, World Sick). Sentimental X's is a melancholy ode from "a friend you used to call" who's resigned to an "off and on" love. Ungrateful Little Father is either about deadbeat dads -- or Steve Jobs ("Ungrateful little motherfuck, built you up a brand new breakthrough device").
Still, for me, the record's highlights, though by no means bubblegum pop, are songs I'd play in the car when I wanted to tap on the steering wheel. World Sick is not an uplifting song; lyrically, it's quite the opposite. Yet I found myself singing "I get world sick, every time I take a stand" as if it were a proclamation instead of an admission. Along the exact same lines, Texico B*****s is clearly about what it's about (change the "i" to an "a"), yet it's also a misogynistic breakup song -- with a fantastic beat -- if you want it to be.
Which leads me to my favorite song on Forgiveness Rock Record. Meet Me In The Basement is a tour de force, the opening track on my Best of 2010 mix. But guess what? For a guy who lives and dies on lyrics, Meet Me In The Basement is an instrumental.
Rock on.
Kanye West - My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
You can take my total apathy toward rap and hip hop as a sign that I don't know what the hell I'm talking about when I call Kanye West's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy a landmark record.
Or you can believe me doubly -- since I never would have believed myself had I seen this nomination even a couple weeks ago.
West is an arrogant, self-centered, foulmouthed sonofabitch, which is part of the reason this record is so motherfucking brilliant.
Not only does his bravado provide the theme of the record -- basically the soundtrack to his own superhero existence -- but only that same extraordinary ego could have driven him to attempt to make a record as ambitious as this one. He's made his share of references to Michael Jackson over the years -- there's more than one on this record, and the video for Runaway (filmed in Prague!) was inspired by Thriller --- and, no matter how many times he may deny having called himself the new King of Pop in the wake of MJ's death, well ... this record speaks for itself.
Laura Veirs -- July Flame
As I emailed a buddy recently, I have an intolerable crush on Laura Veirs. But although I've subsequently seen her live and met her briefly, her looks have nothing to do with it; I fell in deep like, sight unseen, the first time through July Flame and my adoration for this album has maintained a more-than-steady burn ever since.
According to iTunes, I Can See Your Tracks is my most-played song of 2010 -- an astounding 41 spins at press time, significantly more than the runner-up -- and it's more than worthy. On the surface, it's a simple folk song expertly played and sung; in reality, it's a heartbreaking song about longing.
In a similar vein, the entire record, start to finish, is filled with simple pleasures, expertly crafted whether they be joyful, sad, or somewhere in-between -- a chest full of treasures with little rival since the heyday of The Innocence Mission. (And if you know me, you know that's quite a compliment.)
Carol Kaye is a fan's tribute to a venerable session musician I might never have Googled otherwise. Life Is Good is about dancing to a band playing with divine fire -- and knowing those around you are feeling the same thing you are. Make Something Good is a simple closing prayer from creator to Creator. And did you know a July flame is a kind of peach?
Shearwater -- The Golden Archipelago
The first time I heard The Golden Archipelago, I was sitting on the deck of a ferry boat headed from Phuket to the island of Ko Phi Phi in southern Thailand. The album cover, too small to completely make out on my iPhone screen in the blinding sunlight, seemed a carbon copy of the view I had across the sea.
Little did I know I was squinting at a photo of Bannerman's Island, which I've passed hundreds of times on the Metro-North train from Poughkeepsie.
What I thought at the time was the perfect metaphor for this album -- new, mysterious horizons set to Jonathan Meiburg's declaration, "You are running from a rising tide, you are castawaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyys!" -- turned out to be a whole lot closer to home.
That's always been Shearwater's strength. On Rook, the band's last record, which won Album of the Year in 2008, there's a song about the death of an undersea leviathan that somehow brings you back to the squid and the whale in midtown Manhattan. On The Golden Archipelago, there's … well, take your pick. Meridian is a long drive into the evening. Hidden Lakes is the icy snowfall of Thor Harris and Kim Burke playing the bells in tandem. And, last but not least, False Sentinel is a plucked string that puts you in a lighthouse on a rainy night, high above the waves, somewhere you're sure you've been before.
The Tallest Man on Earth -- The Wild Hunt
Kristian Matsson is much closer to five feet tall than six, but I've never seen a man and a guitar fill a concert hall the way he did at Webster Hall this year. The Tallest Man on Earth, alone on stage, inspired a packed room to crow along to Love Is All, his and their "oh-oh oh-oh"s putting exclamation points on the best anti-love song of 2010 (with apologies to The Magnetic Fields' You Must Be Out of Your Mind).
Matsson can fill a record, too, as he does on The Wild Hunt. The title track is an anthem for travelers of all kinds. King of Spain is the wind through your hair, feeling on top of the world. Like The Wheel is a prayer for understanding and strength. Burden of Tomorrow is about banishing your demons for love.
I have to admit, my interest in The Tallest Man on Earth was in its infancy that night at Webster Hall, enough so that I found the audience's more than typical excitement prior to the show a bit odd.
But the fever built as he took the stage, a man with a guitar, and pretty soon, I was a believer, too.
HONORABLE MENTION
Ane Brun -- Sketches Antony & The Johnsons -- Swanlights Beach House -- Teen Dream Belle & Sebastian -- Write About Love Best Coast -- Crazy For You Crystal Castles -- Crystal Castles (II) Damien Jurado -- Saint Bartlett Horse Feathers -- Thistled Spring The Innocence Mission -- My Room In The Trees Jonsi -- Go The Morning Benders -- Big Echo The National -- High Violet Neil Young -- Le Noise Peter Gabriel -- Scratch My Back Rogue Wave -- Permalight She & Him -- Volume Two Sun Kil Moon -- Admiral Fell Promises Tired Pony -- The Place We Ran From Warpaint -- The Fool Wolf Parade -- Expo 86
Unfortunately, we raced to Ticketmaster.com and bought two Wilco tix for Keyspan Park thinking Okkervil was playing that show, too. Pays to actually read entire news items. So...who's coming with?
In related news, a few days ago we put together a brief obit for the Daily News on Jay Bennett. Should have posted it on RIB but didn't (as we do almost as a rule). You can read it here.
As part of our NYU Web Dev class, we've put together an Album of the Year Web site and are now hosting it on the brand new and glorious mattmarrone.com.
If you'd like the check out the Album of the Year site, click the image to the right. If you're using IE, just kill yourself now and get it over with.
The site is fully functional, so register, login and comment. We reserve all rights to delete any remarks that aren't filled with glowing praise.
We're looking forward to next Tuesday with great anticipation - and so should you. The date has been marked with a gold star on our calendar for some time. Here's why:
1. Andrew Bird - Noble Beast
NPR's streaming of Andrew Bird's entire new album at their Web site has whet many an appetite for the next release from one of the best artists around. We've resisted listening all the way through - we're old-fashioned like that - but Oh No is a great leadoff track. A lot is expected from the whistling multi-instrumentalist.
His last record, Armchair Apocrypha, was near-perfect and better than The Mysterious Production of Eggs, his most popular, in our opinion. Plasticities is No. 6 all-time on our "Most Played" list in iTunes, and the whole album is packed with quiet grooves that don't grab you the first time but ultimately become part of your inner beat. The bar is very high.
2. Antony and the Johnsons - The Crying Light
Speaking of bars-set-high, Antony and the Johnsons' haunting EP from last year - Another World - gives fans high hopes for the full length, which features the EP's title track, a longing for escape while mourning what would be lost in the tradeoff. Another one that is actually available already via their Web site - a pre-order of the CD gets you the mp3s now - and another one we've resisted, at least so far.
(Part of the reason is that we want Jan. 20 to be a test run for downloading new albums over 3G from iTunes on our way to work. No more skipping coffee because we're busy downloading and syncing on Tuesday mornings...we hope. Funny how the other reason is that we're "old-fashioned.")
Antony was a little more subdued on the Another World EP - none of his characteristic vibrato workouts which have been known to drive certain exes insane - but we didn't mind. But on this one, we say let loose! We loved the darkness of Another World - but maybe this one can be autumn instead of midnight on Halloween.
3. Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion
Up until now, we've had no interest in this band. But after ignoring all the hype surrounding Fleet Foxes (which we play on repeat now, over and over and over and over), we're going to give the band a shot. Especially since our buddy Eric says it's the best thing since Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. And he was pretty obsessed with that one (as were we - it was our 2002 album of the year).
Pitchfork, too, gives it a 9.6 and calls it their most accessible. An entry point for a new fan? We'll see. And if you're already a fan? Then you've probably downloaded it already.
4. Bon Iver - Blood Bank
It's only an EP, so maybe not enough to prove whether For Emma, Forever Ago was a fluke or the start of a long-term love affair, but we'll take it.
It's kind of a win-win; If it's great, you can be thrilled. If it's not so great, well, it'll only be a small disappointment.
Records I Buy is a music blog based in Astoria, NY, with foreign offices in Brooklyn, NY and Vienna, Austria.
Among RIB's all-time favorite artists: The Innocence Mission, Bob Dylan, The Beatles, Neil Young, R.E.M., Will Oldham (aka Bonnie 'Prince' Billy), Bjork, Frank Sinatra, Wilco, Joni Mitchell, Ella Fitzgerald, Louie Armstrong, Leonard Cohen, Led Zeppelin, The Cure, The Smiths, Gillian Welch, They Might Be Giants, Maria Callas, Nick Drake and Simon & Garfunkel.
Records I Buy loves many albums you hate, like R.E.M.'s Monster and Neil Young's Trans. You can kiss Records I Buy's ass if you have a problem with that.
This is one of those instances where I wish I had the liner notes, for reasons not the least of which being that Let England Shake is a World War I epic and I don't know nearly as much about World War I as I probably should. I'd love to see what she's got going on in print, if only to read the lyrics (yes, yes, I'll get them online and read them right after I finish this post; plus I'm planning to Instapaper just about any review I can find).
You seem to want, so terribly, for me to tell you that you're wrong, that Mine Smells Like Honey is indeed classic R.E.M., that the band is on top of its game, that Stipe & Co. still represent the very pinnacle of rock and roll. You compare Collapse Into Now to the latest record by Arcade Fire, an A-list band in its prime, and you wonder why Arcade Fire's songs sound better to you than R.E.M.'s new ones do.
What do you gain by holding R.E.M. to such an impossible standard? Moreover, why does R.E.M. have to be the best, most important band in the world for you to love them? You've discussed on Facebook the possibility of shutting down your site -- a site devoted as much to the early history of the band as is it dedicated to the present -- because the band's recent output no longer thrills you like it did 20 years ago. But I think you owe it to yourself to relax your standards a bit. Imagine listening to the new songs and finding joy in them instead of disappointment. When I listen to Mine Smell Like Honey, I'm not anticipating the sudden realization that Collapse Into Now is gonna end up as the 2011 Matty Album of the Year. It's Arcade Fire's turn to vie for such honors. And yet I can still put new R.E.M. on and feel good about it. The new record isn't the be all and end all of my music collection -- nor does it need to be.
As much as you might want me to, I can't convince you that the new songs are good and I can't force you to like them. I'm a pretty stingy, stubborn critic myself. But in my initial disgust over Around the Sun, I realized in horror that my worst fears had come true -- R.E.M. was no longer truly relevant. At first I was angry, bitter, resentful -- and all around a pretty miserable son of a bitch on certain message boards. But, as the weeks and months passed, I came to terms with it -- and, like many things in life, the worrying was far worse than the reality. I've since found new artists to take R.E.M.'s place on the pedestal, and ever since, I've been perfectly fine winning small battles with the band, without worrying about the greater war.
It's nice to see you've recently become a fan of my favorite band, R.E.M.
Before we get to your latest adorable but failed attempt at music criticism, I'd like to take a moment to congratulate you on your recent bat mitzvah. By no means would I want to embarrass you, but your journey into womanhood is not to be taken lightly, and I celebrate your achievement in this holy and time-honored rite of passage. I was surprised you didn't post any photos from the synagogue on your blog; Rabbi Remnikoff said you held up very well on your torah, and I expected you to at least share the snapshots your aunt Sheila took with her new PowerShot camera.
Let me first congratulate you on your many fine years of service to major league baseball, especially your championship seasons as Joe Torre's Yankee consigliere. Your services as bench coach provided much-appreciated wisdom and occasional comic relief, and for that I salute you.
