http://blogcritics.org/ A sinister cabal of superior bloggers on music, books, film, popular culture, politics, and technology - updated continuously. en Copyright 2005-2007 by the authors Tue, 15 May 2007 09:04:03 EDT http://backend.userland.com/rss Blogcritics.org custom software http://blogcritics.org/ Phillip WinnSunday, August 26, 2007, marks the switch of all Blogcritics.org article feeds from full-content to short-content. This is the result of several converging factors, and is unfortunately a permanent decision (as permanent as any decision can be on the web, that is). We are aware of all of the reasons that this is a Bad Idea, and we are aware that some of you will be quite upset about having to click on something to read the free content, and we're sorry. Unfortunately, despite great effort, full-content feeds are not currently economically viable. Two other factors are involved: full-content feeds have resulted in an unprecedented level of content theft, with BC content appearing on many websites, usually spam sites, without attribution or permission. This duplicate content causes a cascading set of problems, not the least of which is that search engines generally aren't favorable to duplicate content, and don't always guess correctly. Finally, our RSS advertising partner is strongly in favor of short-content feeds. We hope that you'll continue to subscribe to BC via RSS, and when an article grabs your eye, it's only a click away, still free on the BC website. Thank you for your understanding. Administration0@blogcritics.org Sun, 26 Aug 2007 12:00:00 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2007/05/15/090403.php Jane RipleyAll I've heard of the new Wilco album, the lucky number seventh CD entitled Sky Blue Sky, is the title song. I listened to it on YouTube.com because my cursed computer is only set for one player. That's fine because it's a beautiful, slow, soft and graceful tune -- a nice ride of a song like you were sailing a boat through forgiving waters on a perfect afternoon. After I heard this, I wanted to hear more. The computer gods just aren't smiling upon me right now. Even my car with the Wilco sticker next to the license plate is in the shop. Everything's a bit amuck, but I feel so groovy having listened to the mellow vibes of this here Wilco song, I know everything's going to be stunningly ok. Hell could freeze over or a great tidal wave of grief could hit us all at once, and I get the feeling that if we listen to a stellar disc like Sky Blue Sky that Jeff and the band will wash all our blues away in the part sunshine/part rain CD that could just in it's own subtle way, signal the commercial emergence of this band — whether they like it or not. Sure, I only experienced one song, but I've also heard the buzz, and I can see it in the air. Music63941@blogcritics.org Tue, 15 May 2007 09:04:03 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2006/11/25/132346.php Jane RipleyI don't care that Beck is a Scientologist. I also don't care that he practices yoga or wears pink polka-dotted thongs and eats raw seaweed (just kidding). I do think his brand of everything-but-the-kitchen sink noise on his new release, The Information, is enjoyable. Some of these songs definitely have echoes of Odelay. "Soldier Jane" plods along with some woozy synthesizer and some fuzzy production. Nothing really stood out on this song to make me want to listen to it repeatedly. "Elevator Music" starts out this CD with Beck's postmodern mix of slowly cooked hip-hop blues, telephone operator recordings and dial tones and it's one of the stronger tracks. "Cellphone's Dead" is a kitschy rap that features a cheesy '80s old school synth. It's a fun romp and definitely one for the dance floor if you're like me and you like to lock your fingers together and execute the arm wiggle. "Strange Apparition" sounds like "Torn and Frayed" by the Rolling Stones in the Beggar's Banquet days. Beck ganks Jagger's singing style masterfully and they even have the piano stylings down cold. I guess if you're going to imitate the Stones, it's good to do it from a time when they weren't wheel-chair bound and didn't suck. On "The horrible fanfare/landslide/exoskeleton" Beck attempts to be post-postmodern and samples his own work from The Information. It's tedious and not worth trying to stay awake to enjoy. He should just stick to being simply postmodern. The interesting thing about this effort is how Beck incorporates a number of different elements into his recordings. On this record, produced by Nigel Godrich, he uses not only a kalimba and glockenspiel, but also a Gameboy, sitar bass, and even a Speak n' Spell. Although some of The Information is predictable, there are enough bells, whistles, and bleeps to keep it intriguing. Music56244@blogcritics.org Sat, 25 Nov 2006 13:23:46 EST http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/10/16/225829.php Jane RipleyFiona Apple's Extraordinary Machine was released this month after being in limbo with Sony for over a year. Although her die-hard fans put up a website to get her songs out to the public, according to The New Yorker piece by Sasha-Frere Jones, Fiona was the one who held up her own project. She wasn't completely happy with Jon Brion's production of some of the new material; however, on the new release he still has credit for two of the best tracks on this album. The title track has Fiona accompanied by an orchestra and flows jauntily along, punctuated by a large bell. Fiona sounds strong and in control of her bobo eccentricities as she sings, "If there was a better way to go then it would find me/I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me/be kind to me, or treat me mean/I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine." "Waltz (better than fine)" has Fiona on the keys and some sweet, old-fashioned sounding strings to back her up. Even if we have no date, Fiona's rich, wavering alto instructs us to, "go out and sit on the lawn and do nothing."And that's exactly what she's doing on the back cover of this critically acclaimed album. She's looking gorgeous in a white dress with oranges scattered in the background on the grass. Take that, Paul Thomas Anderson. "Tymps (the sick in the head song)" is tropical hip-hop reggae lite that includes a mellotron, fuzz clavinet, marimbas, a wurlizter and the kitchen sink among other things. All the instruments weave among Fiona's signature clever wordplay creating an addictive dance number about love relapse. Whether you like the Jon Brion version you can download, or the actual CD mostly produced by Mike Elizondo, there is much Fiona to be cherished here. It looks like our girl has grown up, rose out of the ashes of a failed relationship, and created a brilliant, complicated piece which definitely lives up to its name. Music38015@blogcritics.org Sun, 16 Oct 2005 22:58:29 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/09/13/212548.php Jane RipleyI went to the White Stripes show at Red Rocks in Morrison with Figgie and Ken on Monday night. It's an outdoor venue and the rocks are about twelve stories high and you usually see the moon during the show. Anyway, they put on a pretty good performance but Jack White did rush through the lyrics of some of the songs. His guitar playing was wonderful though and he's a great showman. Meg was very cute and competent in a simple way flailing around on her drumkit with her hair all over the place. The marimbas, the kettle drums and the whole set was, of course in red and white. Meg wore black leather pants and a black top with a red scarf and jack was in all red with black siding on his pants. He wore the same hat he has on the cover of Get Behind Me Satan covering his eyes. It's obvious he's getting a pot belly. The best songs were "My Doorbell" which was very soulful, and "Black Math" which they played even faster than on the album (Elephant that is). Meg soloed at the mike for the "Cold, Cold Night" (not sure if this is the title) which made everyone scream. Kenny and I hypothesized that he's probably a total control freak and only lets Meg do so much for the band. We also wondered what kind of music he'd put out if he had a bass player and another guitar or a sax person. They sent us off with the Boll weevil song and had us sing the chorus. I felt like I was in grade school. If they are going to do a folk song that Leadbelly recorded you would think they would do something better like "Gallows Pole" for instance. I'm not sure if I would go see them again but it was definitely worth it the one time. I think I will always have mixed feelings about this band. On the one hand, they are fun and bluesy and uncomplex, on the other they are borderline hacks that are all about the strut and the image of rock and roll. Nevertheless, I still love this band. Music36115@blogcritics.org Tue, 13 Sep 2005 21:25:48 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/05/08/232119.php Jane RipleyMark Oliver Everett, also known as E and the driving force behind the Eels, is back. This time he's released, along with his shifting cast of musicians, an ambitious 33-song double CD called Blinking Lights and Other Revelations.There are some noteworthy songs on the new release. "Going Fetal" is a hilarious dance craze spoof that requires the listener to, "just get down under your desk/feels like your mama's nest." Tom Waits helps out by doing an eerily convincing baby's cry and this campy rave up includes handclaps and a simulated crowd noise. Returning to the womb was never so much fun."Old Shit/New Shit" is an up-tempo pop piece which features the spooky B-movieness of a theremin and some solid drumming by Butch. This tune proved to be addictive after a few listenings. I thought I was hearing some creepy Beach Boys' instrumental instead of "Marie Floating over the Backyard." What beautiful harmonies though, and good organ work on E's part. Part of me wondered, is this filler or have I put the wrong CD in and am listening to a movie soundtrack?Well this sort of is the soundtrack to E's life. He addresses the loss of his entire family on these discs, although some songs work ("Mother Mary") and some fail miserably ("Things the Grandchildren Know"). "Hey Man, Now you're Really Living," is an ironic send-up which sounds like it should be sung by a chorus of sixties frat boys in a beer commercial. It's interesting that a dark stanza is followed by a sincere one. "Do you know what it's like to fall on the floor/cry your guts out till you got no more," E sings brightly. Later on we get "have you ever made love to a beautiful girl/made you feel like it's not such a bad world," thrown in just to confuse us. It seems like E is always struggling to see bright side of depression and his dark sense of humor is what combats it. There are some brilliant moments on this new release, but there are also some songs that may have been better left on the cutting room floor. There so much going on this new release that I can't completely condemn it. Overall, it's far more compelling than 2003's Shootenanny. Music29200@blogcritics.org Sun, 8 May 2005 23:21:19 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/02/22/005710.php Jane RipleySo I have a copy of "Hip: The History" by John Leland sitting in my pajama lap. I'm only to page twenty nine because I'm cashed (although I just chewed some coffee beans and spat 'em out in the bathroom sink), have smoked several non-additive free cigarettes I got in a trade for buying a beatnik girl lunch in a small town. I'm wearing a tie-dyed shirt a friend got me at the Chicago Peace Fest that has a see-through alien face on it reading "we come in peace." I feel hip daddy-yo. The fun thing about this book is you can go to the index and find hipsters such as Chris Roc and Nathaniel Hawthorne but I don't see me. So what I want to know is why am I not in here? Leland told us not to feel bad if we weren't in the index, but I don't find this fair play on his part. I have my props John. I'm almost middle aged, I have suffered two meltdowns, and am almost on my third (my therapist is making me post this). I have a poetry chapbook my sister published. I've done the Jack and Neal adventure three times but have never been to Truckee, so maybe that's why I'm not in there. I've partied with clowns in the Grateful Dead parking lot--the bowl had beads man. I've hung with street urchins sharing chewing gum with disorders not recognized by the DSMRIII who study diagrams of pool tables for fun. My running buddies include penniless poet wanna be popstars and bad asses who create glass collages and dream catchers made out of found string. Girls with no tattoos and Reeboks they bought at the local thrift shop. My boyfriend wears Carhartt and drives a Comet. My cellphone is two years old and still doesn't have a plan. John man. Reconsider. I got my props baby. I swear. Put me in the damn index. I'm a contender. Books25828@blogcritics.org Tue, 22 Feb 2005 00:57:10 EST http://blogcritics.org/archives/2004/10/02/022231.php Jane RipleyI used to be a music scenester in the 80's. I know that probably dates me, but I liked all the new bands before anyone else did. I bought Boy - the first U2 album when it came out (vinyl of course), and I saw R.E.M. in concert before they even released their first EP Chronic Town. I thought I was so "cutting edge."I remember thinking how cool the Psychedelic Furs were. I had purchased their record Talk Talk Talk and it didn't leave my turntable for months. All my friends were listening to it, and we thought it was so great that it seemed we were the only ones on the planet who recognized Richard Butler's raspy croon.Then John Hughes made that awful movie with Molly Ringwald and used their song "Pretty in Pink" for his movie and its title. To make matters worse, the Furs re-recorded the song and it lost its badge of coolness for us. The worst sin, we thought back then, was for a band to sell out. Many moons have passed since then. I have turned into a musical nerd. All my R.E.M. memorabilia is in storage. I occasionally listen to the Beatles and The Who. I've enjoyed Firefall's Greatest Hits for grins and giggles, and I even have a closet fetish for Sheryl Crow. I am so not cool . Now it seems ridiculous that me and my friends would drop a band simply because they signed to a major label, got to use their song in a film, or obtained mainstream popularity. The latter is exactly what has happened to Modest Mouse with their latest disc, Good News for People Who Love Bad News.The album starts out with a ten-second horn blast by the Dirty Dozen Brass Band ushering us into "The World at Large." Our front man Isaac Brock creates an aura of the bohemian drifter and then shoots us into the anthem-like "Float On." The guitar on this tune plinks in an 80's style reminiscent of XTC. The use of the Mellotron and the combination of voices swirls around a theme promising a safe passage into the afterlife. Modest Mouse can still serve up some agnostic angst with poppy hooks on "Ocean Breathes Salty." "Good luck/for your sake I hope heaven and hell are really there/but I wouldn't hold my breath," Brock laments on one of the strongest tracks on this disc. Brock has a distinctive voice that can go from a whiny lisp to a howling bellow as is evident on, "Bury Me With it." Although cryptic lines like "We are hummingbirds who lost the plot/and we will not move" get thrown in the mix, Modest Mouse earn the listener's respect by blazing through three minutes and forty-nine seconds of hard-core indie-action. Having been compared to the Pixies in reviews countless times, it almost appears that Modest Mouse has accepted the parallels to them in this song. On "The Devil's Workday," Brock sounds like he downloaded Tom Wait's voice into his body. As he growls, "All those people that you know/floatin' in the river are logs," the Dirty Dozen Brass band backs him up as he picks the banjo creating an almost Asian flavor to the song. Whereas the 1997 album The Lonesome Crowded West thoroughly addressed the shallowness of materialism and alcoholism taking the listener on a road-trip of existential isolation, Brock and company's theme of death and reincarnation on the current release gets a bit ridiculous with the message around mid-disc. "Blame it on the Tetons" is a good example. When Brock sings, "Everyone's an ocean drowning with no one really to show how/they might get a little better if they turned themselves into a cloud," I'm reminded of forgettable hippy-dippy poetry readings in Boulder. Is this really the same band that almost ripped our ears off with "Doin' the Cockroach?" Some part of me still must be an indie snob because I still appreciate the raw sound of The Lonesome Crowded West much more than this new release. I think the Mouse has maintained their indie credibility; however, they seem to be more derivative these days and some of the inane moments on this release really stand out. All in all, I'd say it's still worth purchasing this CD because the majority of the songs are listenable, but it ain't like the good old days. I miss the depressive yowling in "Polar Opposites." What can I say? Music20564@blogcritics.org Sat, 2 Oct 2004 02:22:31 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2004/09/06/024932.php Jane RipleyI originally picked up a copy of "I am Alive and you are Dead" - Emmanuel Carrere's biography of Sci-Fi guru Phillip K. Dick simply for the shock value. I read about how his empathy and paranoia were connected, how he popped pills, and made the scene in Berkeley during the sixties. I also liked the bits in the book about how he used his therapy to mess with his friend's psyches. On closer examination I didn't find a lot in this biography that would make me want to read his fiction. Call me a dilettante, but I wanted to read the life story of the man whose novels compelled filmmakers to create "Bladerunner" and "Minority Report." Carrere's bio basically gives away the entire plot of half his novels anyway. I did give one of his novels the fifty-page try back in the nineties, but it didn't pass the test. But this was during my pill-popping heyday. But I really want to read him now that I'm clear-headed enough to do so and maybe I can grow the same kind of respect for Phillip K. Dick that Carrere illustrates in "I am Alive and You are Dead." Just one more little chance to understand why it's significant that Dick crafted one of his stories around a light-pull cord in his bathroom that didn't exist. Or how he created a novel owing a debt to the Barbie doll after his stepdaughters received them as gifts one year. Yes, as silly as it sounds, I want to give Dick another chance. The consensus seems to be that lack of footnotes and references seems a tad suspicious; however, if you want to read about Dick's paranoid pathology and get numerous plot summations of his novel, this bio is for you. What the real issue here is what Carrere is up to in this book. Is he inventing parts of Phillip K. Dick's story to pay homage to a neurotic, psychotropic-druggie, near-schizophrenic, semi-genius who lived on the borderline of reality? Am I even typing this? Maybe a clone of me that I've taken a drug to create in my head is supplying the words. Words that are inspired by the imagination of Phillip K. Dick. Books19503@blogcritics.org Mon, 6 Sep 2004 02:49:32 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2004/07/23/023010.php Jane RipleyDear Johnny,Well I finally went out and got my own copy of "The Lonesome Crowded West." I think I've played it over 100 times before you even moved away and we broke up. The only problem is that when I listen to "Trailer Trash," I still see you in a cement-brick walled apartment you could barely afford lifting weights with your brown eyes half-closed to take a break from Grand Theft Auto and doing a wicked Isaac Brock imitation causing my heart to splinter. Eating snowflakes with plastic forks/and a paper plate of course/you think of everything. I kept thinking incessant playing of Modest Mouse has something to do with my losing you, however, I'm beginning to believe that this record is simply the perfect post-punk release of the nineties. Emo references aside (for I know little), if this were vinyl, I would have worn out the grooves by now. But this disc, recorded in 1997 and pretty much ignored by the mainstream press, is god. Covering the post-modern American experience of alcoholism, consumerism, agnosticism and travel I can safely say after repeatedly brainwashing myself with this song that "Out of Gas" is a mantra of great debt (I kid) with the echo of words I can still hear you singing from the bathtub as I pour coffee in your kitchen into chipped green mugs. Out of gas/Out of road/out of car/I don't how I'm gonna go/I had a drink just the other day/opinions were like kittens/i was giving em away."Cowboy Dan" is my favorite ballad. With a slow, deliberate picky pacing, the song builds and Isaac croaks, Goes to the desert/fires his rifle in the sky/and yells "God if I have to die/you will have to die." But the great thing about this song is the way it slows pace and morphs into objective psysiological statements and then a celebration of numb meaninglessness. Everytime you think you're talking/You're just moving your mouth. I have sung the chorus to "Polar Opposites" at the top of my lungs countless times. Although it's an ode to alcoholism and clinical depression, it's very moving and in my opinion somewhat of a blues song in disguise. I hear a bit of the Pixies, but I think it's an unfair comparison because these guys are more complex and bit more country-influenced than surf-rock tinged. I think at times that Isaac soundes like Perry Farrell too, but really they are an original. Nothing sounds like this. Nothing flows like this. Nothing feels like this. The record goes hardcore ("Shit Luck") then gets a bit popier with a dash of scratch ("Heart Cooks Brain") and then we get the quintessential road song ("Truckers Atlas") and the mini-opus "Teeth Like God's Shoesine" and the whole thing weaves around in a swirl of guitars that get chunky and then drop to a snails pace. So thanks for being in my life for three months. If I didn't know you, I wouldn't have gotten into this band. Or Grand Theft Auto. love, Jane Music17733@blogcritics.org Fri, 23 Jul 2004 02:30:10 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2004/06/26/164939.php Jane RipleyWilco are ubiquitous these days. The New York Times did a piece on them last week and they're in the latest issue of Spin. Their new CD, A Ghost is Born is getting mostly high marks. Here in Colorado, despite the fact that the CD appears to be selling, the radio play for A Ghost is Born has pretty much fallen under the radar. Even the local grassroots station KGNU didn't have a promotional copy. Of course, this aint the Midwest so what should I expect? Wilco would probably be proud that they are still a firmly underground sensation here where The String Cheese Incident and Peter Gabriel are considered bleeding edge (not that I'm bitter or anything).It's amusing to hear what the other critics are saying about this album. I found Kelefa Sanneh's story in The New York Times informative, yet I didn't agree with her opinion that the 15-minute song Less than you Think was an attempt by Wilco to alienate their baby boomer fans. There are numerous classic-rock influences on A Ghost is Born, so I'm sure the oldsters will eat this up. I can hear the T.Rex in I'm a Wheel,and the Beatles (circa the White Album days) in Muzzle of Bees. I shouldn't even mention the obvious Neil Young and Crazy Horse-like guitar because every other reviewer already did. Less than you Think starts out as a tune addressing lack of existence and ends up with ten minutes of noise pop that sounds like a bug light buzz amplified a thousand times with a clothes dryer running in the background. Akiva Gottlieb of Stylusmagazine.com postulated that this song "describes a migraine headache." Gottlieb may be right (and it's a pretty good review), but it makes me giggle. The greatest songs on this release are tracks 8, 9 and 10, which just happen to be part of the non-drone section according to the liner notes.In Company in my back our rock-guitar anti-hero Jeff Tweedy personifies an insect of love with such lines as, You learn so slow/old radiant beauty/I'll curve my flight. And then, I will always die, so you can remember me. Glenn Kotche plays a sweet dulcimer, and the combination of stylophone, guitars and synthesizer create a lush tapestry for three wonderful minutes and forty-five seconds. It's an entomologist's dream of a song. Just stay away from the bug light Tweedy. I'm a Wheel is a stupid, fun, accelerated T.Rexy rave-up. It's one of the few songs on this release that doesn't have keyboards or a huge transition happening and it's an enjoyable interlude. Spiders is an excellent extended jam, which sounds like Kraftwerk meets the monsters of rock. This juxtaposition is successful and the song builds itself into a controlled frenzy of big guitar rock.My favorite song is Theologians. Newcomer Mikael Jorgensen's piano assists in making this into pop-gospel anti-spiritual. The song ends with the now infamous line I'm a cherry ghost. Critics everywhere are baffled and scrambling to figure out what the hell Tweedy's talking about. My theory is (here comes the second guessing) is that he's just being whimsical and it means nothing. Or maybe he is messing with us. Who knows? I guess it's better than being a grape spirit. So are Wilco putting out an album that flies in the face of the last releases to be contrary? Are they really messing with the audience in doing so? Hey, I would take a crate-load of Wilcos over the White Stripes who almost made the same song twice on two different releases (see Dead Leaves and the dirty Ground and There's no home for you here). If anything, they have enough respect for their admirers to experiment and try new musical influneces. They were bound to change with the new lineup and the expectations placed on them. What of the great weight that rests on Wilco's shoulders after the critical acclaim and somewhat controversial release of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot? Big deal. You put out something stellar and you're eventually going to have to follow-up. A Ghost is Born is fine work and Jeff Tweedy's mutable nature is still present in their music. The difference is there's a strength in its very existence it didn't have on the last release. A Ghost is Born is a flawed masterpiece. Whether the dashed expectations of listeners are intentional or not is for us butt-pickers to decide. Although some of the songs don't grab me (Hummingbird, Wishful Thinking), there's so much going on here that it's both annoying and inspiring simultaneously. Cherry ghost indeed. Music16857@blogcritics.org Sat, 26 Jun 2004 16:49:39 EDT