Party Like It's 1965

When I first started collecting records a few years back, my first large take came from the offerings provided by a few local thrift stores. These were albums that I was sure I should have: Elton John, The Beatles, Stones, Kinks, Simon and Garfunkle, etc. I thought, 'Why should I even have a record collection if I don't pay homage to the roots of my favorite music?' Of course, I was scolded by the audiophile owner of the local record shop, who insisted that I was crazy to allow my cartridge to succumb to the muck entrenched in the grooves of these dusty relics, and that I'd be better served buying his newly remastered, 180 gram, needle sharpening version for $40. Since I didn't (and probably never will) own a table, receiver, or speakers that would know the difference, I quickly stocked my shelves with about fifty albums of need-to-own sixties pop-rock for next to nothing...and have never really istened to any of them.

The sixties for me seem like THE romantic era of rock and roll. This was the decade that started with teens driving their roadsters off of 'dead man's curve' in a blaze of glory, and ended with the same teens soaring over the same small town on a pink and orange cloud in the midst of an acid induced psych-trip. The Monkees and Beach Boys became The Who and The White Album in one grand romantic gesture of electric progress. So why, I ask, is this decade ignored by the current cadre of artists who seem bent on reviving the 70's and 80's in their music? Are the sixties overexposed by oldies radio, or are current influence nodders too afraid to tread in the steps of rock and roll giants?

Fear not. I am pleased to have finally found a band who are unafraid to tackle that heavy-hitter sound on their new album. Placed squarely in that transitional phase between the sophomoric gab of the early Beatles and the 'scare your parents' guitar sound of the early Stones, is the new album Free The Bees by A Band of Bees. It shouldn't be any suprise that such an album be produced by a band who hail from Britain's Isle of Wight, a miniscule commmunity that I'm pretty sure is somewhere out in the English Channel or thereabouts. It sounds as though they never had a chance to replace the records that their parents had hidden away under the old turntable (probaly the same fare that resides in the thrift store pile); maybe they never got to hear the part where rock got mad and started taking itself so seriously.

Because I'm basing this outburst on the few clips and one video the band has released, I'll try not to go overboard in my assessment of the entire album, but from what I've caught so far, the meat of the sixties is alive on this record. Please download the hilarious video for Chicken Payback to catch my drift. Nonsensical lyrics and staccato pop guitar combine seamlessly to recall proms of yore with thier frilly gowns and goofy dancing, or cruises down the strip a la American Grafitti. The two other tracks, Watch In the Rain and Horsemen, though looser and obviously further along in the sixties spectrum, are still securely cemented in the heart of the feel-good rock era. Catchy harmonized choruses mix with jangly guitars that have kicked thier acne, but have yet to pick up the pipe.

Sufjan Stevens has a weird name

I don't quite know where to begin when describing Sufjan Stevens' album Illinois, because I don't think I'll be able to fully get my brain around it until this time next year. Let me start by saying that this is the biggest, most ambitious, most majestic, soaring, lush, and intelligent hour and twenty-something minutes of music I have heard since The Flaming Lips' Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. And in all of the ways that Yoshimi stretched too far into the fantasy realm with its frivolous themes, Illinois remains a brave tribute to all of the many intricacies of a real place and real people, namely the album's namesake state and its variety of characters past and present. The stories here are of presidents, serial killers, bustling cities, small towns, Native American battles, floods, and UFO sightings. Included are the celebrated moments and figures, as well as the low points and outcasts.

Let me say this again...this album is astounding in its ambition. When Stevens embarked on his quest to document all fifty states through concept albums, who could have guessed that he would produce something of this magnitude with only his second effort. To all of you who are already keen on Stevens' ambitious task and own the first installment, Michigan, I can tell you that like the results of this years' NCAA b-ball contests, the competition between the two is never in question when paired in the competative arena.

To describe such a varied concept album is nearly impossible. Illinois sounds like a soundtrack, as it should, but it is not a neatly boxed set of similar songs from similar genre. My only context for comparison is a Wes Anderson film score, in which the off-beat orchestral stylings of Mark Mothersbaugh are offset by the hard hitting rock hits of Bowie, Jagger, and The Who, which are again, in turn, tempered by emotive folk tunes from Cat Stevens or Chad and Jeremy. Who could predict that such an album might even be listenable, much less successful. But like the soundtrack for Rushmore, easily my personal favorite movie soundtrack, Illinois miraculously succeeds as it twists and turns through rich orchestra, sullen folk, and intricate baroque pop numbers.

As a disclaimer, I won't say that this album is catchy, necessarily. This one requires time and effort to reach full effect. I doubt you'll be playing this record on repeat or learning the guitar tab for 'The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us', but like the complex pallette of a fine bottle of wine or a succulant dish, you will be equally satisfied with each listen to such tracks. Okay, that sounds pedantic as hell, but just roll with it, if you will...In the same way that a delicacy is best lauded by the salivatory reponse it induces, so too will such a rich and varied musical text as this be defined by the listeners' tongue-tied response.

This is one of the albums of the year 2005. There is no record that comes to mind that is even in the same realm in terms of its ambition or variety. Scold me for overselling this one if you think I've gone too far in my praise, but come at me with guns blazing before you try and cut this one down to anything less than spectacular.

Touche, salesman...

Ryan Adams: I don't want to play the same set list every night. So we change the set list every night, and it makes for a different show every time. Some people are really stoked that it changes a lot. And then there are regular, disgruntled, douchebag people. I don't really give a fuck about those people, though. I'm not running for governor! Like so what, you didn't like it, so what, big fucking deal! I don't like Apple Jacks, but I bought three boxes. And I kept trying to like them, but I don't like them. I don't even like milk! So fucking what. Boo hoo.

Pitchfork: Good attitude.

Gummy Bear Vitamins

It's 45 degrees and raining in Philadelphia on this January Tuesday, and there is nothing I can do but let my mood fall right in line with the oppressive melancholy of the scene outside of my library window. Point is, I am in dire need of relief from this winter of mud and five o'clock sunsets. Music will have to be my savior, but I'm in no mood for rock n' roll.

Luckily, in the mindset matching department, I have been alerted of a new release from one of my favorite artists, Eef Barzelay (aka. the Clem Snide lead singer/wunderkind). For those of you unfamiliar, Clem Snide, a Brooklyn based foursome, are one of the most dependable independent bands of the last decade. Their early albums were fun-loving and ironic, laid out beautifully and candidly in Barzelay's earnest, trembling tenor. 'Your Favorite Music' and 'The Ghosts of Fashion' are must haves, with tracks like 'I Love the Unknown,' 'Don't Be Afraid of Your Anger,' and 'Long Lost Twin' solidifying their niche as poet laureates for the confounded 20-something crowd. Though their bite has been dulled in their more recent efforts by a more romantic approach (see 'Soft Spot'), they continue to contribute albums that are well worth the price.

Barzelay's solo effort, 'Bitter Honey,' is the first of its kind that I know of. Almost every Clem Snide album features a track or two of stranded guitar and vocals, but the band is better known for its creative din of muted horns and banjos played with cello bows. From what I've heard, this album finds Barzelay alone and exposed with only his acoustic guitar for support. His unique voice wallows within a sullen, lonesome range that bleeds honesty and adeptly captures the grey landscape of a midwinter scene. I get the feeling that if I saw these tracks live on a day like today, I would gladly burst into tears.

For folks seeking midwinter medicine of the rueful, lonely sort, this might be your opportunity to injest a healthy dose. Sometimes, a stubborn melancholy can only be treated by indulging its own necessity; too much sun is no good for an honest soul.

Ah the power of the list...

So it's that time of year again...granted, it's a little past that time of year but give me a break, I just started this thing. I am, of course, referring to List Season. Blender just put out their "Noisemakers of 2006" issue (with Sascha Baron Cohen in a banana hammock on the cover...thanks for the nightmares, guys), Rolling Stone's been dropping lists for months, and every other music blog out on the 'net has been posting up a storm. Forgive me for falling a little behind but here I go. These are in no particular order...that would take far too much agonization and frustration. Who can pick their favorite? No one. I argue that anyone who has a single favorite artist/song/album/whatever is inhuman.

Amanda's top albums of 2006:

Band of Horses: Everything All the Time

According to my iTunes play counter, I have listened to three tracks from this album over 60 times since I bought this in April. "Our Swords," "Great Salt Lake," and "St. Augustine" are like comfort food, like great garlic mashed potatoes; I can listen to any of the three at any time of day in any place and enjoy them as much as the previous play. Band of Horses should patent their vocal effect (maybe it's just a load of reverb)...it's Jim James in an echo chamber...it's familiar, but haunting...it's painfully addictive.

Beirut: Gulag Orkestar

If somebody had told me at the start of the year that I'd fall in love with a klezmer influenced experiment, complete with horns, waifish, ragged vocals, and generally bizzaro orchestration, I'd have been all "Vat kind of Mishegas is that?" Give "Prenzlauerburg" a listen and see if some old-timey Eastern Euro futz is worth the tsimmes.

Midlake: The Trials of Van Occupanther

This band sounds like an amalgamation of some personal faves of the past...I hear Magnetic Fields, Travis, The Cure, Queen, good Steely Dan, even Billy Breathes era Phish. This band is too talented for their own good. They seem to fit so much into each track that it becomes a burden to plow through the whole album at once. But pick a track or two at a time you'll marvel at their knack for hooks and ladders.

Voxtrot: Three EP's

Why do they tease with this slow EP syrup? I've ranted about how much I love their stuff to anyone who would listed too many times already to explain this pick away, but those who haven't caught on yet, shame on you and yours. Not really, I just wanted to fit 'you and yours' into this "holiday" post.

Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltzin: Broom

What would a year-end list of mine be without at least one artist shamefully channeling the Beach Boys? This is pop hook magic; a great Christmas gift to tide loved ones over until The Shins finally reenter the kingdom Pop. Think Weezer, Irving, and, yes, the fearsome foursome.

The Silent League: Seaside Sessions

Okay, this is a 2005 release which is cheating, but I love this little 5 track job too much to leave it off. It's sappy and sweet and anthemic...enough to make Kristen vomit syrup.

Kite Flying Society: Where is the Glow?

As much as I liked The Boy Least Likely To in person, I think their album was a tough listen all the way through. KFS's album is a more user friendly cousin...peppy and harmonious in all the same ways, but with fewer songs to skip. "6000 Shipwrecks" was my MySpace theme song for a few months...very catchy. If you ever find yourself pining for the lollipop simplicity of The Monkees, lick away.

The Elected: Sun,Sun,Sun

I overplayed this one, but I was full-on obsessed with the first 8 tracks of this album Feb-May. Fine, you don't like Blake Sennett's mousy rasp, and you think the songs are derivative, but some of the lyrics on this album are straight up brilliant.

Field Music: Field Music

This pick took me months to appreciate. I was annoyed to no end by the quick rhythmic changes on this album. It seemed that just when a melody was firmly established in a given track, it would be abruptly cut, or the song would do a u-turn. When those quick licks started to become familiar and expected, I started to get it. This album is all over the freakin place, but I love it pieces.

Mates of State: Bring It Back

Can't quite find the words...too amazing.

Others:
Islands: Return to the Sea
Flaming Lips: At War with the Mystics
Page France: Hello, Dear Wind
The Decemberists: The Crane Wife

Disappointed with:
French Kicks
Golden Smog
The Long Winters

That's that...bring on '07