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Bibio - Mind Bokeh (2011) Dirty Beaches – Badlands (2011) 09.04.11 I’m pretty annoyed with ordinal reviews, or track-by-track enumerations that yield scores of 95.147 for OK Computer, but I find myself slipping into that when I basically like everything about an album—and especially, as in the case of, when it feels like there’s so little to even mention. Whether or not it’s an EP is moot and anachronistic, but I like it the way I would like an extraordinarily good EP, my heart pumped full of hope for broader horizons (indiscernible, perhaps, in the blurry pan-out of the final two tracks).
Because digging right in feels like embarking on a comprehensive task: “Horses” has something you might call a noise-solo, if only because of where it appears structurally and the way the album tucks all of its sounds into some sort of a vanishing point, that consists of layered reverberating clicks, and that’s its noise solo; the huge/distant pile of coalescing synths in the middle of “Sweet 17” could be the utmost in tomfoolery if they didn’t make the song by being absolutely out of place, giving its sparse rockabilly rumble an absolute nemesis to cut back through. But I’d be lying if I said the one-two punch of “True Blue” and “Lord Knows Best” weren’t the most important tracks here for situating the album in relation to its soul. Okay, they’re beamed out of a 50s or 60s slowdance, clearly, but transmitted from some lone radio amidst the album’s rubble long after the yearning hearts have broken and turned to ash. It’s a time-panorama of hope vs.
Despair that you just don’t get much these days, and if I return to this album way more than I ever did Suicide (1977) it’s because it doesn’t need a psychotic killer to prove that it isn’t fucking around: just ordinary, selfcircling teenagers and their desire’s ever-narrowing beam of light. 8 Siriusmo vs. SebastiAn 09.02.11 Even though they both began as top-notch year-end-list-candidate material, and remain pretty damned similar to boot, my TMT coworkers have planted in me the need to explain why Siriusmo’s (2011) is much easier to return to than SebastiAn’s (2011).
Struggling to articulate what it was about dubstep (neither of these being dubstep) that people love even as they’re vomiting out their pregame, I stumbled upon the analogy of being pushed—the bass drops toss the listener around like a rag doll, and if you’re someone who likes to have two feet on the ground, there is a repulsive element. Total builds itself entirely out of the rattling (apparently distinctly 2007) electrothrottle, and makes its art the art of subtraction: sonic in all the most delightful ways.
The Neptunes-y end of “Embody” really completing the song for me, and so on. It’s a “ride,” and the glory of Siriusmo’s “Einmal In Der Woche Schreien” had me vaguely terrified that his album would be a ride, too. But even as Mosaik is a little long, I’m hanging onto its every developmental twitch, each handled with the grace of a composer and the knowing smile of a sidestepping Cary Elwes character. More than anything, the album is fun— right off the bat, it’s playing with the bluesy accidentals of a singing toddler, and we won’t even get into the Fratwerk “Feed My Meatmachine”—and it can therefore afford to relax laterally a bit. I love how “Idiologie” fails repeatedly to launch straight into its arpeggio, and the tingling height to which “Nights Off” rises before it’s let down for the crack constitutes one of those classic pop tricks brought to the next echelon. I know Siriusmo can keep a secret, because he does for most of the album, so I really don’t feel haughty laughing; rather than grinning at the obviousness of what’s coming, I’m grinning with everyone who sees it coming and plants. 8/7.5 Bibio - Mind Bokeh (2011) 07.15.11 Thankfully, thankfully, I hold on to documents rather than personalities.
This tendency allows me to immerse in groups like the Smashing Pumpkins—even as Billy Corgan releases videos in which he, flannelled, cannot pronounce the name of his new album ( Oceana; me neither, but so what?)—simply because they (he) had a historical/psychological/artistic moment in which he communicated himself through that medium better than he ever could as a human being. “Muzzle” the most recent heartfuck; that he knows the silence of the world and screams into it.
The furious irrational pride that Corgan kicked out his mortal bandmates during the Siamese Dream sessions leaves my friends agape. My problem is that I think such documents are worth it. Then of course there’s YHF, my AOTD, the caliber of which I’ve so detached from Wilco themselves (besides Jay mayb) that I tag my continual divebombs and feints to avoid crushing myths “ Sky-Blue-Sky-out.” I know I sound like a cynical mofo sometimes, but I don’t like the hate. If it weren’t for that lovely impressionistic title, perhaps, I’d’ve Sky-Blue-Skied-out on for everyone’s sake. You’ll see that I’m not going to review Panda Bear.
The trouble with Mind Bokeh is simply that Bibio got applauded in 2009 for, and thus continues to make, “personality music.” At different levels, a lot of what he’s attempting to do now—selfish work, about him, not a single cessation of control to his surroundings—really requires a personality to pull off. What we’ve realized since then is that he apparently has none; the smooth tracking of “Anything New” sounds like a purposeful attempt to be someone, but who?
Though Mind Bokeh at its worst suggests the opposite of such flat failings: “Take Off Your Shirt” is absolutely nothing but personality, and if we for a single moment take the the AC/DC buzz and Anthony Kiedis gargle at face value, then Bibio is simply one unlikable dude. The pale, sluggish funk-by-way-of-wah numbers offend slightly less, but what my mind starts to parse occasionally is that he’s still got some off-kilter cycles going in these songs that are on the surface simply unlistenable swill—like, the exact pattern of Allman-Bros.-3rds in “Shirt,” for example.
But the elfin and utterly incorruptible one-trick pony —the purity, the stubborn and almost ludditic craft, of early stuff is part of the reason this album maybe suffers a bit more than Caribou’s similar glo-fi travesty Swim—locked inside the whirligig acoustic cogs of Hand Cranked (2006) must remain safely within that record; to the credit of my listening psyche, that Bibio will not be harmed in the making of faceless genre exercises. Anyway, more of the record recedes tortoiselike into the lazily maximal purdy-I-guess arrangements and can be easily-forgotten-if-poisonous DDT spray. Poor, artistically invertebrate Bibio can’t go back even if he wanted to, but never caring about the personality in the first place, I can return whenever I want. Ө FTR: Hand Cranked (2006) 7.5. Two Lists 2010 ALBUMS OF THE YEAR 1. Chris Rehm - Salivary Stones Genera: Drone, Ambient, Noise RIYL: Yellow Swans, Sean McCann Plug: Each track uses the track before it like yarn. 2.
Broken Water - Whet Genera: Noise Pop RIYL: Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr Plug: But those wizened haven't had to stake ground with a taut debut since the 80s. Tallest Man on Earth - The Wild Hunt Genera: Folk, Signer-Songwriter RIYL: Bob Dylan, Deer Tick Plug: Everyone's outrage about 'Kids on the Run' should indicate that the album did its job. Dinowalrus -% Genera: Nor Wave, Ambient Post-Punk RIYL: Spacemen 3, early Deerhunter Plug: Digital vacuums come easy, but there's nothing like the sound of a psychological vacuum.
Perfume Genius - Learning Genera: Lo-Fi, Ballad RIYL: Daniel Johnston, Antlers, Elliott Smith Plug: This is the best kind of role that music can play in both musician and listener's lives. Elephant Micah - Plays the Songs of Bible Birds Genera: Lo-Fi, Trad Folk RIYL: Red House Painters, Neil Young, Thanksgiving Plug: A vaulted cross-section of faith and questions that no one was dying to answer. Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti - Before Today Genera: I refuse to call this 'glo-fi.'
RIYL: Gary Wilson, R. Stevie Moore, Beach Boys, Todd Rundgren, Frogs Plug: Think of the meandering genius who 'could get straight A's if he just tried'-what I'm saying is, I think Ariel Pink won a bet with this one. Heaven And - Bye and Bye I'm Going to See the King Genera: Free-Jazz-Blues, Post-Rock-Noise RIYL: Talk Talk, Jackie-O Motherfucker, Autistic Daughters Plug: Ever watch primordial soup? 9. Islaja - Keraaminen Paa Genera: Art Pop RIYL: Kate Bush, Lau Nau, Bjork Plug: More anachronistic than EM or TMOE, because she hearkens back to Art-Pop, a time when folks rolled with the punches.
Zs - New Slaves Genera: Harsh Noise, Free Jazz, Ambient RIYL: Shit. Plug: God bless 'controlled conditions' or I'd be hanging from my ceiling by now; that being said, beauty was the bigger surprise.
Mat Riviere - Follow Your Heart Genera: Gloomy Synth-Pop; wait! RIYL: John Maus, Casiotone for the Painfully Alone, Roommate Plug: 'You've never known the evening drive. You've never known the back of his fist in the winter.' Lower Dens - Twin-Hand Movement Genera: shoegaze RIYL: (Jana Hunter), White Magic, Mazzy Star Plug: Shoegaze is best approached from this direction: Jana could always fly, she just needed a leg up. Women - Public Strain Genera: Noise-Pop, Angular Prog-Pop RIYL: The Fire Show, Untied States, Brainiac Plug: Even pulling out the stops, form by way of structure could seem too brainy to some-I bask in the shadow of old Shins comparisons.
Gonjasufi - A Sufi and a Killer Genera: Psycho-Dub, Lo-Fi RIYL: Malachai, Tom Waits, George Clinton Plug: Sumach Ecks knows he is a messenger, the chosen one-though by God or Satan he cannot wring. Superchunk - Majesty Shredding Genera: Power Pop, Guitar Rock RIYL: 12 Rods, Sebadoh, Archers of Loaf Plug: After more than 20 years heading Merge, Mac McCaughan is still in it for the right reasons, and when I'm listening to this, I feel like I still am too. Kurt Weisman - Orange Genera: falsetto-folk, Renaissance minstrelsy RIYL: Chad VanGaalen, Van Dyke Parks, the Books Plug: Eminently likable for first-timers, and a mightily impressive distillation to those who know the creative monster lurking inside of him.
Sun City Girls - Funeral Mariachi Genera: Avant Pop, Arab Folk, Ragam RIYL: Pere Ubu, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Sunburned Hand of the Man Plug: Both disappointed and relieved that they gave us space to breathe on their swan song, but the best parts are still incommunicable and desperate. Janelle Monae - The Archandroid Genera: R&B, Postmodern Pastiche RIYL: Avalanches, Outkast Plug: I lack context, and this album is built out of it. Dylan Ettinger - New Age Outlaws Genera: Freeform, Electronic RIYL: Brian Eno, Jon Hassell, Emeralds Plug: Refreshingly homespun electronic, so even as he's building his cities they're crumbling.
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O Paon - Courses Genera: pendulum pop, loop hymn RIYL: (Woelv), Fursaxa, Juana Molina Plug: The looping pedal meticulously recruits armies for Castee's bidding, but she still sounds utterly, utterly alone. Gil Scott-Heron - I'm New Here Genera: spoken word, PSA-hop RIYL: Saul Williams, Langston Hughes, Kanye West Plug: Dude's, like, an undying entity, a chunk of cultural consciousness, even as he's also an emaciated heroin addict in New York City-so the real hero here is Richard Russell for keeping our eyes focused with the right lenses. Sam Prekop - Old Punch Card Genera: analog synthesizer experiments RIYL: (The Sea and Cake), Fennesz, Nuna Canavarro, Scott Tuma Plug: Convinces us, better than any treatise, to have faith that chaos will produce beauty; cheats by not actually being chaos. Malachai - Ugly Side of Love Genera: Reggae, Psych-Pop, Turntabling RIYL: 13th Floor Elevators, The Congos, MF Doom Plug: Aged and growing fuzz from a time when psych an garage meant the same thing, Malachai's album dexterously gloms cliches to make something that's uniquely his. Laurie Anderson - Homeland Genera: spoken word, art-pop RIYL: Jane Siberry, Yoko Ono, David Sylvian Plug: I put my life on the line to defend this gauzy priestess against contemporary avant-gardists who prefer the sound of air being let out of balloons for like fifteen minutes on La Vase/Slikke. Infinite Body - Carve Out the Face of My God Genera: ambient, shoegaze RIYL: Ulaan Khol, Roy Montgomery, Philip Jeck Plug: The obsessive impetus will never be clear from the music itself, but I didn't expect myself to try so hard to like this, to etch mental contours, to take joy in sudden familiarities, to be beckoned back. RUNNERS UP: See 2000-2009 ALBUMS OF THE DECADE As tweeted on a 3-per-day basis @unicornmang inMay & June 2011.
Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002) Not about Wilco, nor the story. I have yet to hear a refutation of the YHFcentric universe model. David Thomas Broughton - The Complete Guide to Insufficiency (2005) See title; my #1 when I'm more a human being than a writer/fanboy.
Department of Eagles - The Whitey on the Moon UK LP (2003) The sort of eerie that can only come from partying with dust bunnies. Portishead - Third (2008) You really fucked it up for any group that wants to make a passive/sterile comeback ever again, Portishead. Solex - Low Kick and Hard Bop (2001) 'This needs to be in a Quentin Tarantino movie.' Both of us like kids in a candy store.
The National - Alligator (2005) They'll prolly continue to make good U2 albums forever; this scrap collision is the waterworks, though. Yo La Tengo - And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out (2000) No one expected them to invent again a whole new kind of warm & honest. Califone - Roots & Crowns (2006) My sweet lord, when they maxed out on songwriting and noise simultaneously. This they goddamn OWN. Supersilent - 6 (2003) I get the sense that the hollow'd synth-epic has a long history, but picture me giving a damn. Here is no why. Radiohead - Kid A (2000) Anxious, millenarian cogs.
I'm an obstinate guy, but I can no longer deny that this album is my blueprint. Manitoba - Up In Flames (2003) After Swim I vowed to return to Handsome Dick's moniker.
Tidal, vast; it was never electronic. Microphones - The Glow, Pt. 2 (2002) Intricately orchestrated lo-fi never really took off - probably b/c it's harder than it looks.
Modest Mouse - The Moon & Antarctica (2000) No way is this a threshold of gnarled/mainstream. Fact, it's shaped exactly like the earth. Broadcast - Tender Buttons (2005) Their last: a beating battery, its stripped-duo sound bare, Trish human but her world tangled wire. Califone - Quicksand/Cradlesnakes (2003) Their shapeliest: dig the space, the transitions, the unscribbled lyrics, the bluegrass jams. Six Organs of Admittance - School of the Flower (2005) For a prolific artist, you gotta attribute it to the free jazz drummer's billow. Antlers - Hospice (2009) About belief: that a hurricane of words can map a relationship's contours, that music really can redeem us. Books - The Lemon of Pink (2003) The most meaningful glitch/electro-folk album I know.
Arcade Fire - Funeral (2004) They say it fades if you let it. Fog - 10th Avenue Freakout (2005) Lonely & confused man funnels all his wants into Perfect Record, ends up lonelier and more confused. Blackalicious - Blazing Arrow (2002) Hip hop retrofuturism? Chugs on like the stigma never even happened, sharp yet somehow oldschool. Dirty Projectors - The Getty Address (2005) Oh Hell I'm a sucker. An electronic album comprised of jazz and Stravinsky refs. Amen Dunes - Dia (2009) Just when you think it's gonna be all crooked 4track psych shapes and gummy drones, he hits you with SONGS.
Islaja - Ulual Yyy (2007) The quandary: alien or tropically Darwin? Oh wait: Finnish. None, nor 'Bjork's heiress,' does it justice. Akron/Family - s/t (2005) You win, Liz.
Vaporous folk has never has such sonic stitching. 'Walking in circles that gradually grow.'
Grandaddy - The Sophtware Slump (2000) Anyone can play guitar? More like, anyone can record OK Computer. Touching poems by a robot. Emperor X - Central Hug/Friendarmy/Fractaldune (And the Dreams that Resulted) (2005) Funnest album ever.
Boards of Canada - Geogaddi (2002) IDM junkies who skip a third of this album's tracks just don't want to admit how creeper it is. Pumice - Pebbles (2007) Best no-fi/'shitgaze' album of the decade. Without that hiss he couldn't blend his seizures and mires. White Denim - Workout Holiday (2008) Singer's flamboyant and guitars are oft spindly/African, but this is still punk as hell. Wrens - The Meadowlands (2003) Christ: emo that ages like red wine, but youre on a bender so you dont notice till it's vomit/catharsis. Deltron 3030 - s/t (2000) thus birthed clint eastwood, eh?
Krs-one-esque legend's rock solid topia on race and evolution. Vic Chesnutt - North Star Deserter (2007) This blacklunged troubador doesn't follow reasonable dynamics convention here. Prepare to be bludgeoned. Books - Thought For Food (2002) No one's done pan-interconnectedness like this before or since. Natural Snow Buildings - Shadow Kingdom (2009) What gets me is how brevity can anchor length-wouldn't be the same w/o 13 mins. War on Drugs - Wagonwheel Blues (2008) An emblem of all I wish to stumble upon. Draw+quarter if necessary, but don't reverse footage.
Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots (2002) A live rendition of one of the lesser songs here still towered over the set. Odd Nosdam - Burner (2005) We eventually have blind faith that the chords will ratchet. I eat up two-chord songs like I chow binaries. Avey Tare and Panda Bear - Spirit They're Gone, Spirit They've Vanished (2000) 'Time to blow some motherfucking minds here.' Four Tet - Rounds (2003) A babushkan study in scale.
Dated only b/c cultural producers don't know a thing of beauty when they hear it. Clipse - Hell Hath No Fury (2006) The distillery: not a culture-sensical drum, not a line sans venom, not a tone that won't die alone.
Keith Fullerton Whitman - Lisbon (2006) Improvised vs. Composed don't mean shit, and it takes a transcendental laptop-slice to say so. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - s/t (2005) 'You're really dating yourself with that shirt.' Why must this gem last only as hype-metonym? Elephant Micah - And the Loud Guitars (2004) Oft-huge music by a twentysomething, supplants Solutions for something unreachably Bigger. Woods - Some Shame (2008) The Dead have nothing to do.
This tour-only cassette by the, what, 'lo-fi kingpins' still, reliably, uplifts. CLOUDDEAD - s/t (2001) Weirdly, 'ambient hip-hop' practically says it all. No one was dumb enough to try THAT again. Mountain Goats - All Hail West Texas (2002) The boombox's last gasp is enough to inflate lullabies to raw, beltalong proportions. Cannibal Ox - The Cold Vein (2001) Free jazz + psych-noise coiled into hip-hop = a Pere Ubu-esque carnival ride thru hate 'n' history.
Russian Futurists - Let's Get Ready to Crumble (2003) DIY 'doxes like miniscule hugeness, flat depth, 80s kitchbag resonance. Black Moth Super Rainbow - Dandelion Gum (2007) A sticky microcosm. Falling in love, clubbing, basking, all through a compound eye. Casiotone for the Painfully Alone - Twinkle Echo (2003) The fuck can I say man. It's just an idea. It's my thing. Beyond (2007) How many 80s legends reunite, throw in the towel to classic rock tropes and age, self-transcend yet fuse?
Dirty Projectors - The Glad Fact (2003) Longstreth built it all from this: music theorist, nostalgic, winding through his chords. Broadcast - Haha Sound (2003) Probably their prettiest, certainly their most colored-in; the precedent both surer and further. Thanksgiving - Welcome Nowhere (2004) Pacific nw ludditic coziness, F BPB soundalike syndrome. Shout out to fairkid and that time. Animal Collective - Feels (2005) B4 mpp broke my heart and ate the musical landscape, this'un was both lush as hell and madd longit 57.
Music Tapes - For Clouds and Tornadoes (2008) Saw player for nmh tells all. Fifth Column (2002) He's a melodic spider-monkey, but more importantly, his blistered voice is just impossible to forget. Radiohead - In Rainbows (2007) So the honeymoon is over; who cares? This album's still 'I'mportant both to me and to their legacy. Notwist - Neon Golden (2002) This is the decade gestalt right here man, and too pared to sound dated.
Some records just feel right. Illogic - Celestial Clockwork (2004) Burlap spokeword lyrics too heavy to sling like this. And the beats just get weirder and weirder.
Dirty Projectors - Bitte Orca (2009) A victory lap as far as I'm concerned. In case anyone thought African scales were old hat. Deer Tick - War Elephant (2007) Smells like beer and onions, hurts like hell: 'An eternal testament to how we are so animalistic.' Clinic - Internal Wrangler (2000) Art-punk from another dimension, only marginally bruised from repetitive high-five followups. Sufjan Stevens - Illinois (2005) A labor of love/craft like Amish barn-raising.
Cemented minimalism's 'no duh' pop-throne with warmth. Six Organs of Admittance - You Can Always See the Sun EP (2002) Or the best track of the decade? What do you call the goddamn Sahara? Broadcast - The Noise Made By People (2000) Before Trish's humanity/mortality (RIP) they were an entity, rock-solid as an icy planet.
Koop - Waltz for Koop (2001) A bubble bath in the sheer aesthetics of jazz: drum brushes/walking basslines. Too smooth for electronica. Fiery Furnaces - Blueberry Boat (2004) Shrewd harmonic archaeology for such a whoopee cushion opus. All tones are bound to some PLACE. Sigur Ros - ( ) (2002) The gutsy followup's still the album to beat, the wall to climb, etc. Perpendicular to heaven and hell.
Subtle - For Hero: For Fool (2006).' The utmost in luxury blood.' So abstract and intricate, encapsulation mocks it like Derrida. Jim O'Rourke - I'm Happy and I'm Singing and a 1, 2, 3, 4 (2001) Every time I suspect this is a hipster bullshit pick, I snorkel again. Unicorns - Who Will Cut Our Hair When We're Gone? (2003) When I first heard it the phrase 'furious indie pride' popped and didn't stop. Xiu Xiu - Knife Play (2002) I liked the arty smear of Stewart's internal pressure more than the tin cans of his external.
Vomit detail. Japandroids - Post-Nothing (2009) 'The title' indeed: only true blindness/true youth can breathe life into such Pabsty bro-wisdom. Califone - Roomsound (2001) Here: the dirt-clod tuber monolith they later hacked n electro-fried, in case you suspected tweren't there. OOIOO - Armonico Hewa (2009) Fuck Dungen, this is psych like GenXers yelt it. Like the mouth is still the best wah pedal we've got.
Destroyer - Your Blues (2004) A peak twofer1 more than anything: schmaltz/sound obsession AND cryptic vox that knew what they wanted. Fugazi - The Argument (2001) Drives the 'post' through their own 'core,' get it. No need for a running jump; it's caustic, it'll creep. Ugly Casanova - Sharpen Your Teeth (2002) An ode to The Album Project: I can't think of an album that's more of a dusty polaroid. Kanye West - Late Registration (2005) Floodgate after floodgate. If there's a revolution here, it's that history still breathes. Tim Hecker - Harmony in Ultraviolet (2006) Shudders like palimpsest, like it could mean something, like Earth makes this much noise.
Fiery Furnaces - Gallowsbird's Bark (2003) I do not know what the hell sunk that made them want to stop rocking straight blues. Radiohead - Amnesiac (2001) Understandably the most exciting TIME to be a Radiohead fan: Squarepusher flush with smeary jazz, cmon. Fire Show - St. The Fire Show (2002) Post-noise: Brian Deck's color-arsenal aimed inward, pop bottles jabbing rims, and a mouth/a plea. Prefuse 73 - Meditation Upon Meditations (2009) Wait which one's that? Only the pastiche that almost shrugged its way out of happening.
Bjork - Vespertine (2001) On the one hand, lamely automatic on both of our parts. But then falling asleep during sex can be meaningful. Paavoharju - Laulu Laakson Kukista (2008) Deejaying the silence surrounding the discotheque at night. An overtone rave, man. Burial - Untrue (2007) Back when he anonymously invented it in his parents' basement, I didn't expect anyone to argue 'dubstep enough.' Sonic Youth - Sonic Nurse (2004) Course it's not punk anymore, but veterans amber legacy and sculpt noise without even thinking.
Broken Social Scene - You Forgot It In People (2002) An unlikely unifier/litmus test, all sandy jams & hihat hiss. But what carriage! White Stripes - White Blood Cells (2001) Said it once before but it bears retweeting now.
Micachu and the Shapes - Jewellery (2009) Warped pop from a dimension housing a restless garbage lid/disposal & vacuum proletariat. Function - The Secret Miracle Fountain (2006) A worn document validating New Age nonsense, that watched twigs form shapes, etc. The Good Life - Album of the Year (2004) More P.O.V. Than chronology, but this is better-beginning/middle/end in moment after moment.
TV on the Radio - Return to Cookie Mountain (2006) Model intersection: lurch-loops/processed guitars as hollow arteries for the past. Ned Collette - Jokes and Trials (2006) Like watching homemade plastic-bag-parking-lot footage: The Antipunchline Strikes Nonetheless. Spoon - Kill the Moonlight (2002) If the Strokes were actually withholding/opaque/cool enough to 'starve indie rock into new shapes.' Marmoset - Tea Tornado (2009) How so many crawled out of their skin when this guy's sardine breath and denim were a little too close.
The New Pornographers - Twin Cinema (2005) Springloaded power-pop can only once explode like this without sounding mad cheeseball. 2009 EOY AND EOD LISTS Just gotta beat some peeps to the punch here. You'll notice that I was far too aggravated to actually rank these, so I listed them alphabetically. Using your infallible Venn Diagram reasoning you can probably wean one hierarchal message that I really wanted to communicate for 2009, and if you've talked to me in the past 4 years you'll know the one hierarchal message of the decade has been something of a. Erm, fixture.
2009 Amen Dunes - Dia Antlers - Hospice Blues Control - Local Flavor Califone - All My Friends Are Funeral Singers Circulatory System - Signal Morning Dinosaur Jr. Farm Dirty Projectors - Bitte Orca Flaming Lips - Embryonic Grizzly Bear - Veckatimest Japandroids - Post-Nothing Micachu - Jewellery Mount Eerie - Wind's Poem Natural Snow Buildings - Shadow Kingdom OOIOO - Armonico Hewa Phantom Band - Checkmate Savage Pontiak - Maker Prefuse 73 - Meditation Upon Meditations Wussy - Wussy Yo La Tengo - Popular Songs Zu - Carboniferous 2000s Antlers - Hospice Arcade Fire - Funeral The Books - The Lemon of Pink David Thomas Broughton - The Complete Guide to Insufficiency Califone - Quicksand/Cradlesnakes - Roots and Crowns Caribou (f.k.a./r.i.p. Manitoba) - Up In Flames Department of Eagles - The Whitey on the Moon UK LP Grandaddy - The Sophtware Slump Islaja - Ulual Yyy Microphones - The Glow Pt.
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2 Modest Mouse - The Moon and Antarctica The National - Alligator Portishead - Third Radiohead - Kid A - In Rainbows Six Organs of Admittance - School of the Flower Solex - Low Kick and Hard Bop Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot Yo La Tengo - And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out New Rating System As per my essay 'Numbness and Numbers,' I don't think it's really helpful or even the same category of thought to assign ratings to things that I don't particularly like. So I have an idea about what a 7.5 is: it's good enough that I would be happy if someone put it on. Plenty of super-acclaimed artists make it onto this list if I have some positive reaction to their output; Fleet Foxes is a good example. But anything lower, in the tradition of Robert Christgau, will get adorable little wingdings: ● - (Formerly bomb) For some reason or another it offends me that this album was made. ≠ - (Formerly scissors) As is the case painfully often, the album contains one or two great highlights and is otherwise forgettable.
Ө - (Formerly flat-featured face) No stron g response. You ca n like it a lot and I won't argue with you. √ - Yep, it exists. Usually differentiated from Ө by sheer review length. I have more of a gestalt with these, they don't blend so easily. ↕ - It's definitely something, never managed enough listens to tell what exactly.
Also: email me at collin.anderson@oberlin.edu because if your response is thought provoking I'll post that too. I prefer this to the standard 'look at how few people read this' Comments (0) format.
Sims 4 Studio on Mac? I hope this is the right forum - if not, please move it to the right one, thanks! When I searched the internet for some meshing tutorials for Sims 4 I was wondering if there is a way to run Sims 4 Studio on Mac. Sims 4 Studio 3.1.2.1 (Wishes) and 1.2.1.5 (Candy Apple) are both updated to improve their geostate features and other issues. Wishes should have less out of memory errors. Sims 4 studio for mac. Jul 01, 2017 Hello, I'm just wondering if there is a Sims 4 Studio version for Mac? Nov 23, 2018 Sims 4 Custom Content Tutorial Index. Build/Buy & Tuning Tutorials. Download the beta version of Sims 4 Studio for Mac (Candy Apple) and Windows (Wishes) here. Table of Content for the online Sims 4 Studio Creator's Manual. 1: 1: Full Index of Sims 4 Studio Tutorials (Online Manual).
Algebra Suicide – The Secret Like Crazy (RRRecords, 1987) 10.13.09 Okok, distortion. Okok, Moe Tucker. Of the innumerable foundations the Velvets laid, I think the one most deserving of revival is the capacity to tell a vivid, rhythmically-spoken story over a chugging groove. It takes a toughened cool to do this, to maintain a durable pace of words while the world cycles on unawares. Thankfully, Lydia Tomkiw’s got the personality and twitchy vocabulary to pull it off and even one-up Lou Reed’s unfulfilled potential. Slather some drum machines, guitar loops that oscillate from glitz to grind, and you’ve got, remarkably, a left-field museum piece not unlike the Young Marble Giants: there was no other place nor decade than the 80s underground for this duo to exist.
Call it the source: one of the few labeled tracks on about 10 discs of a late-80s radio show called Bad DNA with a penchant for female-led proto-shoegaze and Art Pop like Jane Siberry and the Cocteau Twins. To that end, I want to call Tomkiw a sort of feminist even if she’s closer to being a snotty (albeit college-nerdy) tomboy: either way, her calloused Brooklyn accent brings a certain disillusionment to life while framing those few moments of vulnerability.
And those blissful, blissful grooves, courtesy of minimalist mastermind Don Hedecker represent the people she watches, resents, appreciates, finds, in the end, some sort of beauty in. “(A Proverbial Explanation For) Why No Action Is Taken” is just that: observations, a string of sayings that render humans inert.
“Idle hands / are the devil’s playlot / but we fear burning / our candles / at both ends.” More often, just when you think the swirl of words takes her cynicism beyond recognition, the song ends, Tomkiw’s found symmetry and so must we. “I wanna talk about the invisible bones of the face, about this brain that sits too close to the skin, while I hear you tell me we could be ‘chainsaws under the stars.’” You can practically hear her smirk. “Under what stars?” The testament to the music is that when I listen to it I’m on Tomkiw’s side, and I too feel like I’ve won.
Throw in the 1-to-2-minute track times, and anyone as malleable to weirdo cool as I am will have 20 tiny victories coming their way. 8 Aluk Todolo – Finsternis (Utech, 2009) 11.23.09 Anyone else notice those totally hopeless, reliably mishandled bits of hidden metadata a simple right click in iTunes can show you?
One of them’s Beats Per Minute, the only devotee of which I can find is Trent Reznor. Bpm referring to the circulatory system and percussive machinery in equal measure, it’s not a surprise. See, metadata can actually say something of import about a group – it’s been said that Label (which has yet to columnate) is more important than artist in electronic music, to say nothing of genre-junkies. So why isn’t bpm programmed into French trio Aluk Todolo’s ID3s? Because, after all, Finsternis is an album with a few massive-seeming struggles, but it would help to see that it’s a fixed match.
Would being given a flat “75bpm” ruin the biggest surprise that these five tracks have to offer (“Surprise! There is no surprise.”), accommodate the same peculiar brand of hopelessness that the listener learns to expect by the end?
Somehow, this is totally unlike Spirit of Eden’s fusiform undulations: this is a zombie-eyed plod, and it’s antithetical to the sort of frustration that the various feedback storms ought to suggest. And they’re just that: meteorological, and never nearly as frustrated or creative or human as you wish. (The band’s probably great live, but any garage musician knows it can be tough to channel yourself fully into an instrument.) That they divide a singular ebb and flow into five sections only fleetingly maintains the illusion of development, of anything needing the shoulders of what’s come before it.
The result is probably the biggest racket that I could ever fall asleep to, cause you know there’s no way the wall’s gonna break down. √ Amen Dunes – Dia (Locust, 2009) 11.30.09 I have a neat little chaos theory when it comes to weirdos with big record collections who eventually try their hands at music. The idea is, inspiration bleeds into imitation, but when you try as hard as you can to imitate an idol in a DIY setting, you’re sure to miss the mark in a way that can actually be even more interesting than what you thought you were trying to do. Like, your own uniqueness, even if it’s entirely a manifestation of incompetence, is mapped out in the degrees to which you didn’t (in my own band’s case) actually end up sounding like the fucking Microphones at all.
Enter Sun-City-Girls-channeling neophyte Damon McMahon, aka Amen Dunes. You hear a lot of grotesque changelings in this stuff: a friend insists “By the Bridal” is “Bittersweet Symphony,” I recently realized the trebly rush of the band-titled surf-opener reminds me of “Fell in Love With a Girl,” and in the second half there’s a string of four songs that have all the evocative vibes of great folk songs, that whole “have I heard this on AM radio at some point” quality. But grotesque, cause Damon McMahon is an unavoidably weird guy, so he manages to own all of it, even as the album willfully progresses through many stages of awesome.
I say Sun City Girls because of its hopscotch effect, but while Sir Richard Bishop is at a sketchy halfway point between legitimate World dissemination and the offensive Cheech/-ong accents of Ween, Amen Dunes never seems to be operating on such big stereotypic models. Sure, who can argue with the surf thing, but its more in the dilapidation, the crooked tumble of “Fleshless Esta Mira, Wife of Space” (to say nothing of its name), the uneasy awe of McMahon’s warbly vocal exorcism in “Breaker.” But as I say, McMahon’s a little more organized about the whole affair, which behooves him in a breadth-over-depth culture. Like, Sun City Girls were kicking themselves for the neat bundle of Torch of the Mystics, wanted to remain sprawling and culty sans wooping repetitive requests at live shows.
It’s possible that some listeners will prefer the dissonant one-two opening (like In Rainbows, always an odd hit-the-ground-running-then-come-down tactic) or the aforementioned stretch of bare-bone acoustic ditties, that they’ll see the droney, multilayered expanses of “In Caroline” and “White Lace” as peaks or valleys of interest (ok, I might ally myself a touch with the former there) but in a weird way, possibly just a product of immersion, the twists and turns seem premeditated such that every song, sans the wry leap of faith off the bat, feels earned by the ones before it. That’s why it’s exciting to find out only at “Patagonian Domes” that McMahon can write a totally blissful and grooving roadtrip song, to find out only at the last track how many different directions he can take his voice simultaneously. He’s impossible to pigeonhole – no matter how much great stuff he’s clearly informed by – but by the end of the album he’s somehow convinced you that he’s a unit.
Albeit, I continue to switch hands, a unit with more to say than he already has with this great album. 8.5 And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead - Worlds Apart (Interscope, 2005) 6.01.09 'The Great Comb' reviews were a product of transferring all of my music onto my girlfriend's computer. In some cases, I just couldn't bring myself to do it, which necessitates a sub-7.5 score. This is one of those albums. There was a time when I was willing to nurse this as standing up, in terms of just songwriting, to its predecessor of bloated acclaim.
But you can’t help that aesthetic gestalt, the way you sort through CD’s or mp3’s and for better or worse Source Tags & Codes feels (before I even listen) like a guitar wash while, for this album, all I can think about is the aggravating elements, that mildly grating voice, the song-lengths-for-their-own-sake, (the band-name-length for its own sake), the fucking portent. It’s when they started to blend, for me, into another scene entirely, to which they might not even have the prowess to belong. I need to dig through their early stuff, when they were decidedly part of the emo-before-people-automatically-hated-it scene of the mid nineties. This album, meanwhile, is a reluctant yawn like freshman Physics class, and moreover, a symbol of something like an album per year which I’ve incessantly avoided since. To suddenly remember the sketched-out review I was preparing back when I first heard it: as soon as these guys became about the theme, I remember thinking, they were muddled and confused in terms of scale. Meaning, the sound of women crying that you could hear on a radio report after the tsunami segueing into undeniably white teenage angst.
It’s a statement, it’s an irony, but it’s also totally unrelatable: anyone who thinks the whole world should be dragged into their personal pain, and can utilize sociological pain as a commodity, to make their point, ought to repel as many as it attracts. I’m thinking of what I said in Portishead about the use of African American spiritual cadences in the landscape of her head, of which I steered clear despite its Sylvia Plath compressive heartplow, but maybe it’s just too overt and hamfisted here for me to go for it. I’m almost thinking, if my 2005 self could have caught it, it must’ve been sluggish, yeah?
Some of these relics don’t need to be revisited. √ FTR: Source Tags & Codes (Interscope, 2002) 7.5 Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavillion (Domino, 2009) UPDATED Here's to the - it'd 'devour the blog whole' as I sa y. ● Animal Hospital - Memory (Barge, 2009) 6.01.09 'The Great Comb' reviews were a product of transferring all of my music onto my girlfriend's computer. In some cases, I just couldn't bring myself to do it, which necessitates a sub-7.5 score. This is one of those albums. Call it complete submission to random-mixtape theory, but whenever this accidentally comes on I become thankful that my favorite post-rock artists – Sigur Ros, Talk Talk, Slint – aren’t this post-rock. The big argument against this one has been they can’t decide which post-rock frame they want to dip into, so they dip into all of them.
My response: I’d love that shit if they dipped into them at any sort of surprising intervals. I didn’t even live through post-rock, I raspberry’d at Lift Your Skinny Fists but was always fond of the premise, I chuckle at neurotic distinctions between “post” and “math.” Point is, I never had a chance to get sick of it, but this album makes me feel like I did anyways. Of course, if I want to believe it could have been done differently, I have to tweeze out the uninspire d. Ө Beak - Beak (Ivanda, 2009) 11.30.09 Bring back the jam! At least I have another month or so before I have to justify why Blues Control’s Local Flavor somehow hits me the right way, as more worthwhile than Geoff Barrow’s side project (referred, by the more accurate and tUnE-yArD-dOoMeD, as “BEAK”). I toyed with double-reviewing the two, in the New Yorker tradition that’s sadly long since gone stale on the crutch of paragraph breaks and middle-school transition sentences, but in this case it might’ve hurt Local Flavor as much as it helps Beak.
I’m willing to call it context, Blues Control sprung on me via CD-R in the car and Beak far less out of the blue, complete with ties to one of the decade’s best artists and an explicit admission of ephemera (strangely similar to Black Mold, you might notice, and had those ended up reviewed together it wo.
(See also,.) back to the drawing board An acknowledgment that an enterprise has failed and that one must begin again from scratch, at the initial planning stages. The drawing board in question is the type used by draftsmen, architects, engineers, etc., for blueprints and such schematic designs. A similar phrase is back to square one, by analogy to a games board. Its meaning is the same—“We’ve got to start all over, from the very beginning.” bite the dust See. one’s cake is dough One’s project or undertaking has failed, one’s expectations or hopes have come to naught; one never has any luck. A cake which comes out of the oven as dough is clearly a total failure.
Shakespeare used this now obsolete proverbial expression in The Taming of the Shrew (V, i). My cake is dough; but I’ll in among the rest, Out of hope of all but my share of the feast. Damp squib An enterprise that was to have been a great success, but fizzled out; a lead balloon; a dud. In this British colloquialism, squib is another name for a firecracker. If it is damp, it will not explode as expected.
It may fizzle or, in some cases, turn out to be a dud. Flash in the pan An instant but short-lived success; a brief, intense effort that yields no significant results; a failure after an impressive beginning. This expression refers to the occasional misfiring of the old flintlock rifles which caused a flash, or sudden burst of flame, as the gunpowder in the pan burned instead of exploding and discharging a bullet. The expression appears in an 1802 military dictionary edited by Charles James. One might let him scheme and talk, hoping it might all end in smoke. (Jane Welsh Carlyle, New Letters and Memorials, 1853) Use of this self-evident expression dates from the 17th century. Lay an egg To flop or bomb, especially when performing before an audience; to fail miserably.
During World War I, lay an egg was Air Force terminology for ‘drop a bomb,’ egg probably being associated with bomb because of its similar shape. In addition, egg or goose egg is common slang for ‘zero, cipher,’ also because of their similar shapes. Thus, to lay an egg is ‘to bomb’ (figuratively), or to produce a large zero, i.e., nothing in terms of a favorable response from an audience, supervisor, or other persons evaluating a performance. You would just as well come wearing a shell if you ever took a job singing in a spot like this, that is how big an egg you would lay. (John O’Hara, Pal Joey, 1939) lead balloon A failure, fiasco, or flop; an attempt to entertain or communicate that fails to elicit a desirable response.
This phrase is relatively new, having appeared in print no earlier that the mid-1900s. Lead balloon was originally heard in the verb phrase to go over like a lead balloon, an obvious hyperbolic expression for failing miserably. Today the phrase is used alone substantively or adjectivally. Thus, a joke, plan, etc., can be called a “lead balloon.”.
What the Dickens? Was a lead balloon literary quiz wherein the experts showed only how little they knew. ( Sunday Times, April 19, 1970) lemon An object of inferior quality; a dud; something that fails to meet expectations.
This expression alludes to the lemons painted on the reels of slot machines or “one-armed bandits.” Whenever a lemon appears on one of the reels, regardless of what appears on the other reels, the gambler automatically loses his money. Lemon was in popular use by 1905, less than ten years after slot machines were invented. The expression remains almost ubiquitous, particularly in its most common current application, i.e., in reference to automobiles which experience almost constant mechanical difficulties.
Mechanics are less than delighted to see lines of lemons converging on their service departments. ( Saturday Review, June 17, 1972) See also one-armed bandit,. Lose one’s shirt To be financially devastated.
This common expression implies that a shirt is the last of one’s possessions to be lost in a financial upheaval. A miss is as good as a mile A proverb implying that it does not matter how close one comes to hitting or attaining a goal, a near miss is still a miss, a near success is still a failure, etc. This expression is probably a corruption of an earlier, more explicit adage, “An inch in a miss is as good as an ell.” (An ell is a unit of measurement; in England, 45 inches.) It has also been suggested that the original expression was “Amis is as good as Amile,” alluding to two of Charlemagne’s soldiers who were both heroes, both martyrs, and both saints—thus, to many people, they were virtually indistinguishable. He was very near being a poet—but a miss is as good as a mile, and he always fell short of the mark. (Sir Walter Scott, Journal, 1825) miss the boat To miss out on something by arriving too late, to lose an opportunity or chance; to fail to understand; also to miss the bus.
These phrases bring to mind the image of someone arriving at the dock or bus stop just in time to see the boat or bus leaving without him. Although both expressions date from approximately the early part of this century, to miss the boat is by far the more common. Some firms were missing the boat because their managements were not prepared to be adventurous. ( The Times, March, 1973) my Venus turns out a whelp See. Take a bath To be ruined financially, to lose everything, to go to the cleaners; usually used in reference to a specific financial venture. This figurative American slang use of to take a bath, meaning ‘to be stripped of all one’s possessions,’ plays on one’s physical nakedness when bathing. Washed out To have met with failure or financial ruin; disqualified from social, athletic, or scholastic pursuits.
One theory suggests that this phrase originated as an allusion to the former military custom of whitewashing a target after shooting practice, but the connection is difficult to discern. In modern usage, this expression is often applied in an athletic context to one who, because of injury or inferior ability, can no longer compete. In addition, the expression often implies a total depletion of funds.
I would sit in with hustlers who really knew how to gamble. I always got washed out. (Louis Armstrong, Satchmo, My Life in New Orleans, 1954) wither on the vine To fail to mature, develop, or reach fruition; to die aborning; to go unused, to be wasted. The expression describes lost opportunity, unrealized ambitions or talents, unfulfilled plans, etc. It often implies negligence or oversight; if such had been properly tended and nourished, they would have blossomed. An obvious antecedent of the expression appeared in the 17th century.