I haven't posted any vintage Weezer since March, so today I'm pulling this favorite out of the vault -- a '95 performance of "Say It Ain't So" on Letterman. Rivers Cuomo had lost the bowl cut of the prior year, but his charged vocal performance and the band's tight sound had gotten even better. Cuomo is active as a lead singer, jumping and moving around, but he was wearing a leg brace during this performance after undergoing a procedure to lengthen his left leg, which was more than an inch shorter than his right. (Thanks, Wikipedia!) The leg brace forced him to stay rooted in front of the microphone, which makes this one of my favorite versions of this song. It goes from quiet and understated to jarring and heart-wrenching as Cuomo speaks directly to his alcoholic father. Watching him sing the bridge at 2:28, speaking to his father -- "Dear Daddy, I write you in spite of years of silence" -- his eyes squeezed shut, drummer Patrick Wilson rocking out in the background -- "The sun is drowning in the FLOOOD!" -- that's my favorite part of this video.
This song was the third single off Weezer's very first, self-titled album back in 1994, when they'd been playing together for just two years. "Say It Ain't So" remains one of their very best songs, a solid member of my own Top 10 Songs of the '90s (and others agree). This video also appears on the live Weezer DVD Video Capture Device.
I'll be taking a long weekend to properly ring in the new year. See you in 2012!
I honestly can't stop listening to Adele's live CD on repeat, so it's a good thing Juke Box Hero is here today to tickle your ear drums with something new.
Have you heard of James Blake? He put out an amazing debut album this year - I'd definitely slow jam to "Limit to Your Love."
Blake is a British dubstep-electro DJ. He's all about breaking down
tracks of various genres and then splicing them back together in
interesting, techy ways. After a few singles and EPs, the 23-year-old released his first full-length album in February, 2011 -- and he finally opened his
mouth. Out came a sultry soul singer.
It's uncanny: He looks a little like Napoleon Dynamite without the
merm, yet he sounds like chocolate syrup. His falsetto is strong and
haunting, but somehow infectious, catchy. He might be the best electro
soul DJ ever.
I'm not in love. It's an album you might drive off the road to; the
sometimes-droning melodies can lull more than entertain. But
you've got to give him credit for covering so many miles of sonic ground. On a journey through his music, James Blake may make you wonder how far till the next rest stop. But not always in a bad way.
Adele is not a well-kept secret. The 23-year-old British soul songstress has been raking in the critical praise, the commercial success, and the hardware accolades over the past year -- and it's continued even after she had throat surgery last month.
The top item on my Christmas list this year was Adele's new live DVD/CD release, filmed at Royal Albert Hall in London this fall. Apparently I didn't fall too far off the Good Blogger Wagon in 2011, because Santa rewarded my efforts, and on the drive from Iowa City to Chicago yesterday I listened to the album twice through. I'm only a little embarrassed to admit that I burst into tears more than once during the 108-minute concert. (Tears of joy, tears of sorrow, tears of recognition, what have you.) Any casual listener might notice that the woman's got some serious
baggage to work out via song, but I'd heard these songs before, so I reason that my reaction was due purely to Adele's performance.
Her voice is breathtaking. She sings on
the edge of her vocal chords, as if she's giving her entire physical and mental being to the music. It runs through her and escapes from her mouth, dripping with emotion and raw with power. The woman's got one-of-a-kind pipes.
I already posted one song from that concert on this blog -- the stunning "Turning Tables" -- and above you'll find the only other official VEVO video from the Royal Albert Hall performance, "Set Fire to the Rain." (I guess they had to save the rest for the DVD.) The craftsmanship of both the music and the cinematography is lovely, but I think the bootleg video below is even better. It's the finale, her #1 hit "Rolling in the Deep," and the video includes a little intro during which you can see Adele standing in stocking feet, wiping tears from her eyes, and thanking the audience for making one of her dreams come true. It's a humbling moment, both to watch on the DVD and listen to on the CD. Just before the end, Adele leads the audience in singing the refrain --
which makes her late entry into the final chorus even more magnificent.
Add in glittering gold confetti and Adele's gleeful bounding off-stage at the end -- she is just SO HAPPY -- and you'll see why everyone thinks the guy who broke her heart is the biggest sucker in the world. The woman will rule the music industry for as long as she can sing. She's promised us a Grammy performance in February and a third album sometime in the future. In the meantime, I wholeheartedly advocate that everyone buy this album. We could all use a good cry every once in awhile.
I went to church with my family today. It had been awhile, but I grew up going to Christmas services with my grandparents, and I never really minded because the Christmas worship is about 80% singing and 20% candle-lighting, both things that even fidgety kids can get behind. The pastor tells the Christmas story and we sing through the Christmas catalog, from "Hark the Herald Angels" to "O Little Town of Bethlehem," ending with "Silent Night." In order to experience this song properly, stick a white taper candle in a plastic cup, turn off all the lights, surround yourself with family, and sing along. If you can hit the notes Charlotte Church hits, the Christmas spirit is truly with you.
If you can't, you're probably just not a child prodigy soprano. Don't be too hard on yourself, it's still Christmas!
Daijams' 12 Days of Christmas wraps up tomorrow, then back to your regularly scheduled programming. I hope you've enjoyed the romp through all the different styles of Christmas celebration!
So I made it to Iowa for Christmas weekend. The family time is splendid, though I'm hiding for a few minutes to type this up. This video cuts straight to the core of a great live performance. Gaga invokes an almost Disney princess-level vibrato on a cool jazz classic. She's even got an adorable speech in the middle to introduce an extra verse she wrote about a snowman. Not necessarily what you'd expect from the artist behind the songs "Beautiful, Dirty, Rich" and "Love Stick" -- both of which are about
exactly what they sound like. I'll take the snowman, and the live band, and the whole bit. Is this testing ground for a full-scale Gaga Christmas album next year?
Two more posts to go in Daijams' 12 Days of Christmas -- which means I'll be posting over the weekend for the first time, uh, ever. So I hope you tune in! Happy holidays and safe travels!
I'm hitting the road for Iowa to celebrate the holidays, so a very quick post today -- but really, with Judy Garland, not many words are needed. Just close your eyes and listen to her voice in this song. She slides in and out with the piano. They're joined by strings, and then the rest of the band swells and, wait a minute, is that...is that a flute? Why yes. That's a flute. There's a high woodwind section. Don't you miss music like this sometimes?
And Judy always sounds so eager, so sincere. "Just stay with me 'til after the holidays," she pleads. "I know it's hard, but try. Try to pretend 'til New Year's, then we can say goodbye." Talk about a doomed romance. But she still wants it. Don't you miss storylines like this sometimes?
The holidays make me all nostalgic. I think I've been listening to too much top 40 lately. It's just so damn catchy. Three more posts to go in Daijams' 12 Days of Christmas! Which video is going to be the partridge in the pear tree? Any suggestions?
Juke Box Hero has got one more holiday diddy to offer before we finish up Daijams' 12 Days of Christmas this weekend! Take it away!
With such a diversity of styles and artists in the Christmas carol repertoire, there are plenty of styles in the mix to keep these consecutive holiday-themed posts lively and fresh. And even though Brittany’s done such a thorough job rounding out beautiful voice-focused tracks (Susan Boyle and "Ave Maria"), here’s another one in the same vein.
You might call "O Holy Night" the "National Anthem" of Christmas carols: everyone’s sung it at some point, but it’s difficult to perform, much less well. Country music siren Martina McBride belts it as well, if not better, than anyone. Anyone. (That includes you, NSYNC, though your unique attempt is still pretty cool.)
The song is one of my all-time favorite carols. It’s just so clean, simple and beautiful, devoid of camp and pumped-up production. Every Christmas Eve at the church my family goes to, a soprano performs the solo with traditional organ accompaniment. The only way I can think to describe her voice is as powerfully glistening, a vibrant vibrato making the absolute most of each sustained note. When she begins the song’s climactic verse, I get chills. Spine-tingling, hair-raising, tear-jerking chills. Every time. Now Martina, she’s right up there.
Part of what I love about this song is that it exposes a voice and a singer as truly great or just so-so. Martina may only have been named the CMA’s "Female Vocalist of the Year" a record-tying four times (along with Reba, natch), but her voice, a set of pipes to rival most church organs, could hold its own in any genre – except for maybe Mongolian throat singing. She lays it all out in this performance; she’s holding nothing back, yet she's entirely in control, like MJ driving the lane or MS frosting a cake: it’s a good thing. What you hear with Martina is what you get, and if you’ve never heard her before, you’ll love what you get.
You didn't think I'd celebrate Daijams' 12 Days of Christmas without a Hanukkah shout-out, did you? As of sundown today -- which is 4:22 pm in Chicago (ugh winter) -- happy Hanukkah! Maybe next year we'll do all eight days.
A cappella group the Maccabeats, of Yeshiva University, made YouTube waves last year with this fun remix based on Taio Cruz's "Dynamite." The video format may be getting a little old -- hello, Brady Bunch -- but it holds up for the three minutes of colorful Jewish celebration and inside jokes.
I grew up attending a church with my grandmother. The sermons put me to sleep, but before the sermon came the songs. Church was the only place you were expected to be able to sing four-part harmony without practicing. I'd thumb through the hymnal, my fingers tracing the music lines of my favorite hymns over the thin pages. There was always one verse in the music staff, and eighteen additional verses scrunched into the bottom margin. My grandmother assured me that no one would hear me if I said the wrong words or sang the wrong notes, so I went for it, straining for the top soprano notes, then finding the alto's harmony. Christmas songs were the best, because some of them had shaken out into the secular world and I knew them already. "Silent Night" and "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" were my favorites, particularly the "Gloria" refrain of the latter, which was my first ever public singing solo (in the church Christmas pageant, natch).
I grew up in admiration of "Ave Maria," but as a Catholic intercession prayer, we didn't sing it in my Protestant church. The song has been set to music multiple times, most notably by German composer Franz Schubert in 1825. He was just 28 years old, and he wrote the music for Walter Scott's "Lady of the Lake," in which the song is also known as "Ellen's Third Song." The melody has become one of the most recognizable (and universally tear-jerking) Catholic songs in the world, sung at services, weddings, funerals, and any other time the Virgin Mary may be asked to intercede. I'll ask Pavarotti to do the honors:
In 1859, French composer Charles Gounod wrote another version of "Ave Maria," which he imposed over J.S. Bach's "Prelude No. 1 in C Major." I'll let Bobby McFerrin take you through a guided tour of that one:
So the problem I faced as I prepared today's post was that I wanted to include this song in Daijams' 12 Days of Christmas, but I literally could not pick. It would be impossible to choose just one to represent the set, the whole spectrum of experiences. So I offer instead a cornucopia of versions from different artists. (For any easy way to flip through, visit my Daijams YouTube playlist and choose your starting place.)
Tarja Turunen is an enigma. She's got a three-octave vocal range and could easily headline operas worldwide. Instead she's best known as the lead singer of a Finnish symphonic metal band. I repeat -- a Finnish symphonic metal band. You've got to hear it for yourself, so here's a video. She was kicked out of the band in 2005 and has since led a successful solo career that kicked off with -- what else? -- a Christmas album. Here's her 2006 performance of Schubert's "Ave Maria."
Next, Beyonce's got the full diva treatment here, from the fan blowing her hair to the mid-song outfit change to the audacity to add new wordsto "Ave Maria." She's certainly got the pipes for it.
And we'll end with another Schubert version...this just blows me away. This 10-year-old girl emotes like she's been singing for 50 years. Her name is Jackie Evancho, and she did not win this talent competition, but she's going to take over the world. That's if she ignores the whispers of the Ghosts of Child Stars past. Stay in school, Jackie! (But keep singing!)
Wait, what's that? You say Jackie Evancho also performed the Bach/Goudon version of "Ave Maria" back when she was nine in what looks like a school gymnasium, surrounded by balloons? Oh we should definitely check that out.
As we wait for the worst winter ever to hit Chicago, we're heading down under for today's installment of Daijams' 12 Days of Christmas. Aussie pop star Guy Sebastian was the winner of the first ever Australian Idol in 2003, and he's kept pace with his American counterpart, Kelly Clarkson, who kicked off the talent show era of reality television in 2002. In a matter of less than 10 years, these artists have each released five albums, toured the world, and become household names in their own countries. Life's good for the Idol contestants -- the ones with the grit to make it, at least.
I hate too much "Beyonce-ing" of a song -- you know what I mean, when a singer will tack on about 15 extra notes to every single word -- and Sebastian is certainly capable of Mariah-style runs, but he does so tastefully, leaving us wanting more. This song is all about building drama and dynamics; key changes are incorporated into every verse and chorus, ramping up the excitement and then bringing it back down again. (Seriously, John Lennon was a genius of a song writer.)
If you follow the news, you'll have heard that President Obama is pulling all American troops out of Iraq by December 31, putting an end to a war that began with our invasion in 2003 -- the same year these pop stars were neophytes singing on a talent show. In the ensuing eight years, nearly 4,500 American lives were lost and another 30,000 were wounded, according to the Washington Post.
President George Bush showed us in 2003 that when you say the war is over, that doesn't necessarily mean the war is over, or the mission accomplished. The war may never be over, but peace is being sought, and for that I'm proud to be an American.
Here are the lyrics:
So this is Christmas and what have you done,
Another year over, a new one just begun.
And so this is Christmas, I hope you have fun,
The near and the dear ones, the old and the young.
A very merry Christmas and a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one without any fear.
And so this is Christmas for weak and for strong,
The rich and the poor ones, the road is so long.
And so happy Christmas for black and for white
For the yellow and red ones let's stop all the fights.
According to a hasty YouTube search, no mainstream artists have done a cover of "Shedrik," otherwise known as "Carol of the Bells," in its original Ukranian. This is probably because the song is more of a choir piece as opposed to something Mariah Carey can take and explode from the inside. This random Ukranian Romanian choir's version is short and sweet and well-executed.
Learning the Ukranian was a right of passage in my high school choir, as we sang it every year for our holiday recital. We sang it as fast as humanly possible, because it sounded awesome that way, and because we were impatient teenagers. The way the middle swells, when the sopranos hit the top note near the end -- it gives me chills every time.
See you on Monday for the second half and thrilling conclusion of Daijams' 12 Days of Christmas!
This post is dedicated to my friend Meaghan Joyce, who just returned from a two-year stint in the Peace Corps in -- you guessed it -- the Ukraine. Welcome back to the States, Meaghan!
I'm usually wary of using broadcasts like this, from last year's Christmas Rockefeller Center broadcast, because more often than not the performers are lip-syncing. If YouTube commenters are to be believed -- and they are the last bastion of truth, so why wouldn't we trust them? -- then the little boy soloing at the beginning is probably lip-synching. But he's little, and asking a prepubescent boy to sing live for a broadcast to millions may be asking a bit much in this day of overwhelming criticism. But I trust Susan Boyle not to deceive me.
Since the world discovered her on the venerable Simon Cowell-judged Britain's Got Talent back in 2009, Susan Boyle has released an album every November, including a Christmas album titled The Gift in 2010. The entire thing is pure splendor. This is what angels sound like when they sing. Each note is delicate, smooth, perfectly plucked from the air. Even here, when a few of the notes wobble -- evidence that she's actually singing live for millions of people, the cajones that takes, sheesh -- she pushes the notes through to their soothing resolution. In a manger somewhere in heaven, Baby Jesus is being lulled to sleep to the voice of Susan Boyle.
And as far as a complete holiday experience is concerned, the Daijams' 12 Days of Christmas would not be complete without a boys' choir. Enjoy this classic and beautiful version of a classic and beautiful song.
Juke Box Hero is jumping into the holiday spirit with us this week!
It may be a little younger than some of Brittany’s previous Daijams' 12 Days of Christmas selections, but I have
no doubt this fantastic festive collaboration between BNL and Ms. McLachlan is (and
will be) just as classic. They’ve basically maintained the meter of the original
carol but added a dynamite swing that transforms the typically plodding and dry "Merry
Gentlemen" into finger-snapping power pop.
It’s fun to listen to, it’s damn catchy, and they all genuinely sound like they’re
enjoying recording it together ("Aw, not Sarah McLachlan again!"), a characteristic
Brittany reminded us all yesterday that yes, we do still notice and appreciate when it
manifests itself in joint efforts. Sarah and the BNL boys sound like they’ve been
harmonizing forever, their voices -- her gossamer turns and
swells and Robertson’s loping fine-sandpaper tenor -- sweetly contrasting.
I won’t deny I’m guilty of singing along to Christmas (and Hannukah!) standards
aplenty, especially when it’s a pop cover that appears to have at least a little creativity
and artistic effort put forth. (And no, Mr. Bieber, you don’t get any of those words. And Mr.
Dylan: no more Christmas albums.) This cut, with its pretty modest range and
repetitive harmonies (and extra verses for carol nerds), is right on the money: well-considered and fun as hell to crank up on the hi-fi, despite the nonexistent video.
Though it’s hard to top Whitney’s "Do You Hear What I Hear" or The
Boss’ "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" on my singalong playlist, these guys are getting
close.
This morning, with my mind flitting through ideas for today's Daijams' 12 Days of Christmas post, I attended a networking breakfast, the theme of which was "turning your passion into a profession." The presenters, Jenn Krenn and Jill Felska, discussed how too many people are working jobs they hate for companies they don't respect. (Happily, this conundrum does not afflict me, though I enjoyed the encouragement to make happiness a workplace priority.) The presentation was a reminder that pursuing your passion -- and making a living at it -- is achievable, a version of the American Dream. Anyone can go to work and really, truly enjoy it! Imagine that!
I chose this song for today because it displays the joy I hope everyone feels at work. The setup here is great -- just two dudes drinking some punch and busting out some harmony -- and as professional musicians, Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby make it look easy. Obviously it's a staged set, but what is not fake is the mirth the two exhibit when singing together. They toss comments in -- "Grab the verse," Bing says, "Isn't this a lot of fun?" -- and at one point they almost descend into giggles. They may be getting paid to sing over punch, but they're clearly loving it, and that's the point of music, even a silly one-minute diddy. The love of music is the reason my friends and I still meet once a week to practice a cappella, the reason I still own a trombone even though dreams of playing for the CSO are long since squashed by the reality of (ugh) regular trombone practice. These guys were lucky enough to do what they loved for a living, and it shows. I dare you not to smile.
So get out there and do what makes you giggle. Why waste your time doing something you hate?
To kick off Daijams' 12 Days of Christmas, I give you -- well, the twelve days of Christmas. Performed by Indiana University a cappella group Straight No Chaser in 1998, this song was posted to YouTube in 2006 and quickly ripped through the Internet, wreaking havoc and impregnating women, until the ten original members were given a five-album record deal with Atlantic. Three albums have been released so far, two of them Christmas albums. By the numbers, they're the most successful a cappella group in history, and they've accomplished it all in six-part harmony and without auto-tune.
A cappella groups everywhere have attempted to recreate SNC's meteoric rise. After all, they went from university extra-curricular to 100% working musicians, playing regular, sold-out shows at the Chicago Theater and around the world. This year they took a break from touring for a 52-show stint in Atlantic City. Next October they've got an entire cruise set up. Not bad for some funny boys in suits from Indiana.
And it all started with this, a silly mash-up of Christmas tunes, made wonderful by the members' own personalities and sense of humor. What starts as a traditional song quickly degenerates into a mess of holiday classics, complete with overlapping, false starts, and a nod to Hanukkah. I just love this video.
Chicago woke this morning to a dusting of snow on the ground. The onset of winter can no longer be ignored. In celebration, I give you possibly my favorite live recording of all time.
The song, "Baby It's Cold Outside," was written in 1936 by Frank Loesser, the composer of Guys & Dolls as well as How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. He and his wife performed it together at Christmas parties for more than a decade before he sold the rights to the song to MGM in 1948. The following year it appeared in the film Neptune's Daughter, for which it won the Academy Award for Best Original Song. A number of other recordings were made that year including this one by the hilarious and affable Louis Armstrong and Velma Middleton, who spent most of her jazz singing career traveling with Armstrong's big and small bands.
In the score, the parts are labeled "wolf" and "mouse" -- appropriate given the classic gender roles of the characters and their tongue-in-cheek sexual innuendo. The wolf is trying to convince the mouse to stay the night with him, using the harsh weather as justification for her captivity.
There's no picture -- home video was just a glimmer in your grandmother's eye at the time -- but we really don't need it, as the performers' voices are more than enough to make even the Grinch crack a grin. The more liberty Louis takes with the words, cajoling Velma to stay juts a bit longer (and we all know why), the more giddy the audience becomes. ("You just stay here three more days and then you go back to your people.") After one ripple of laughter, while Velma is singing, Louis says under his breath: "It ain't even started yet." And he's right -- his pleadings become more and more ridiculous, but somehow (winky face) Velma becomes more and more convinced to stay.
Tune in on Monday for the first of Daijams' 12 Days of Christmas, ending with special weekend posts on December 24th and 25th. In the meantime, enjoy the first round of holiday parties this weekend (at least in my case)! My roommates and I finally finished decorating our apartment last night, and the cookie supplies and holiday cocktail bar are set out and ready to go. 'Tis the season!
Thirty-one years ago today, the world lost one of the most talented and inspirational cultural leaders we've ever known. John Lennon is irreplaceable in every respect, and this song is, in my opinion, his crowning musical achievement.
There are no frills in this song. There's no dramatic build-up. It's just peaceful. It's about possibilities. And the message endures.
This song is a safe place to me. It's on my own band's setlist. Speaking the words, singing them
to myself in the shower or maybe someday to a crowd of thousands, is a
reminder of how simple and beautiful music can be.
Juke Box Hero takes us back a few years with a Ray Charles song (and a bonus clip from the movie Ray).
One of the things I love about music is that it can almost instantly take over your entire body, willing you to move, to dance, practically involuntarily. It can happen at any age and requires no prior knowledge, skill or expertise to fully experience the effect. Songs like "Footloose," "Jailhouse Rock," and yes, "Party in the USA," all come to mind; their upbeat, repetitive rhythms, mostly mindless lyrics, and infectious melodies are a perfect tonic for getting anyone to forget who they are and what they’re doing, and just let loose in appendage-flailing ecstasy.
"What'd I Say" by Ray ‘The Genius’ Charles unequivocally falls into this category of music you just can’t sit still to. In the ’68 video (above), I love the close-up on Ray’s feet and legs bouncing up and down like pistons off a whirring crankshaft. The man’s musical energy was just dumbfounding… and intoxicating. The Jamie Foxx motion-picture version (below) does a swell job depicting the live, improvisational manner in which the song was (reportedly) conceived, as well as its power to command bodies into action.
The song has a great story, which the Wiki-room full of monkeys does a much better job of explaining in the first place than I ever could paraphrasing them, but what I find most interesting is the observation that, with the void left by Elvis, Buddy Holly, Eddie Cochran, Chuck Berry, and Jerry Lee Lewis, the fledgling "rock and roll" genre might have died an immature death. That is, if not for Mr. Charles and this track.
In one fell swoop, with this 1959 single, various historians argue that Mr. Charles saved rock and roll, and he also apparently single-handedly created "soul" music, according to musician Lenny Kaye (Patti Smith's guitarist). That’s a lot of credit for one man and one song, but, as the monkeys continue, it had a deep impact on dozens of music legends, including Mick Jagger, James Brown, and Van Morrison.
Whether he's a true game-changer (or saver) or not, the song is still just plain and simple, frenetic and salacious, fun. Charles woos me every time with his groovy gospel piano and salty vocal ostinato. I have to move to it. I can’t not move to it. Not even Shakira gets hips moving like Ray can. Though I bet the two would’ve been good, good friends.
Okay, so maybe Tuesday isn't your typical lazy day, but this Bruno Mars track is a nice reminder to chill out once in awhile -- including on weekdays, you workaholic Americans.
We collectively discovered Bruno Mars in 2009, when he lent vocals to B.o.B.'s "Nothin' on You" and Travie McCoy's "Billionaire." His debut album dropped in October 2010, and it peaked at number 3 on the Billboard charts. People love him, he's a focused and natural talent, and he's got more live videos up on YouTube than artists who have been around decades. Mars was nominated for seven Grammys last year and won one, for "Just the Way You Are" (Best Male Pop Vocal Performance), and he's been nominated for six more this year. Expectations are high for his sophomore album, but his ease and candor in live performance indicate he's here to stay.
The month his debut album was released, Billboard invited Bruno and his band to record live versions of the singles off the album. There are also some nice interview clips with Bruno talking about his music and journey. (He's from Hawaii!) I couldn't choose just one, so today you get three jams!
I speak for every woman person in the world when I say this next one is pretty much the best thing you could possibly say to someone you love. The full emotional landscape of American music was not complete until this song came out. Take notes.
And one more. There seems to be a theme here. All of his music is infused with emotion, but it's also happy. He seems to take real joy in performing.
Daijams favorite The Black Keys drops their seventh album, El Camino, tomorrow! Pick it up here. Support your favorite artists! And enjoy a live performance of the lead single, "Lonely Boy," from this past weekend's Saturday Night Live broadcast.
Point of order: These SNL videos don't stay active very long (NBC is pretty good at reigning in videos they don't post themselves), so below is the song's actual music video. I'll update with a new live version once a good one is posted to YouTube. (Suggestions?)
The uncomplicated video echoes the band's similarly uncomplicated riffs and uncomplicated lyrics -- "Oh, oh-oh I got a love that keeps me waiting // I’m a lonely boy." The lesson: Blues doesn't need bells and whistles. And everyone can sympathize with the agony of a lover who keeps you waiting.
This year's Grammy nominations were announced on Wednesday. See the full list here. As expected, Adele cleaned up, receiving six nominations in six important categories:
Record of the Year – Rolling In The Deep
Song of the Year – "Rolling In The Deep"
Album of the Year – 21
Best Pop Solo Performance – "Someone Like You"
Best Pop Vocal Album – 21
Best Short Form Music Video – "Rolling In The Deep"
I've listened to 21 at least once a day for the last two months, so this news item is the perfect excuse to post another Adele song. Today's performance, unlike the one filmed in her home, is from her recently released DVD and was filmed at the Royal Albert Hall in London this past September, before her throat surgery. The woman knows how to mount a dramatic presence, whether she's alone in her living room or singing in front of thousands, backed by a full orchestra.
The Grammys will be aired on February 12, 2012, and Adele is scheduled to perform. She's telling the press that her throat will be ready by then, though she won't have much time to rehearse beforehand. The world wishes her the best in her recovery, and I'm sure I'm not the only person hoping she'll head back to the studio after she collects her trophies.
Let's cast our minds back to 1997. Gas was $1.12 a gallon, Bill Clinton was (barely) still president, Steve Jobs reclaimed the helm of Apple Computers, Mike Tyson bit off part of Evander Holyfield's ear during a boxing match, the tobacco companies were forced to weather their first huge legal loss, we all learned the phrase "El Nino," and at age 21, Tiger Woods became the youngest golfer ever to win the Master's. And, of course, there was the music. Here's the top 12 songs from that year:
1. "Candle in the Wind," Elton John
2. "Foolish Games / You Were Meant for Me," Jewel
3. "I'll Be Missing You," Puff Daddy and Faith Evans
4. "Un-Break My Heart," Toni Braxton
5. "Can't Nobody Hold Me Down," Puff Daddy
6. "I Believe I Can Fly," R. Kelly
7. "Don't Let Go (Love)," En Vogue
8. "Return of the Mack," Mark Morrison
9. "How Do I Live," LeAnn Rimes
10. "Wannabe," Spice Girls
11. "Quit Playing Games (With My Heart)," Backstreet Boys
12. "MMMBop," Hanson
Alright, so we probably could have guessed that the Backstreet Boys and the Spice Girls wouldn't stick around long. Toni Braxton, En Vogue, and Mark Morrison have done alright; according to Wikipedia, they're still "active" musicians, though the 90's were their unequivocal heyday. Jewel and LeAnn Rimes have maintained respectable careers, and R. Kelly has maintained a career of sorts, though the timelessness of "I Believe I Can Fly" really pales in comparison to some of his earlier, raunchier tracks, such as 1993's "I Like the Crotch on You." A true wordsmith.
That leaves us with the Top 12's heavyweights: Elton John had that year's #1 hit with "Candle in the Wind," a song written in 1973 about Marilyn Monroe's death. It surged back into popularity in the late 90's as a memorial song for Princess Diana. Another tribute song, "I'll Be Missing You," in memory of the Notorious B.I.G., was cobbled together by Faith Evans and the artist formerly known as Puff Daddy, the only artist to appear twice on the list. Too bad he no longer exists.
And that's a wrap!
Oh wait. There's also Hanson, eeking in at #12. They had this little hit in the 90's called "MmmBop" to which fifth graders like myself mmbopped around our friends' basements, dancing and using hairbrushes as microphones, discussing who was the cutest Hanson, and deciding that their Oklahoma background meant they were not only talented and attractive, but also down to earth, wholesome, and our realistic future husbands.
Eventually we moved on to other (likely shorter-haired) heartthrobs. But those Hanson brothers kept at it, and for almost 15 years since the release of "MmmBop," they've been honing their craft, touring, getting married (dammit), and cutting records. Their newest, released last year on their own label, is their eighth studio album and features this song as the lead single. I'm partial to the music video, which is an homage to the Blues Brothers, a movie released the same year the eldest Hanson was born. But through the years the child prodigies (too strong a word?) have grown even more talented, and they haven't forgotten what we liked in the first place -- the great harmonies, the catchy licks, and the meaningful lyrics.
Before writing this post, I'd never read the lyrics to "MmmBop," but it does actually have words other than onomatopoetry. The then-12, -14, and -17-year-old boys were singing about finding the one or two relationships that will last a lifetime and holding on until your hair falls out. ("You have so many relationships in this life ... / So hold on to the ones who really care / In the end they'll be the only ones there /
When you get old and start losing your hair.") The brothers lived that, too; each is already married with children in multiples of two. [See guide.]
[A guide to the Hanson Brothers]
Isaac, born 1980, guitarist, prominent facial hair, married, 2 kids
Taylor, born 1983, lead singer and pianist, no facial hair, married, 4 kids
Zac, born 1985, drummer, scant facial hair, married, 2 kids
In this new song, more than a decade later, the Hanson men have apparently had enough: "I've been thinking 'bout somethin' other than you." And it sounds like there's some juicy backstory: "I've been getting the love that moves me while you've been getting around." This holds up as a satisfying break-up song, complete with an upbeat tempo and happy major chords. It's about moving on, something the Hanson brothers are familiar with as they've navigated the path from child stardom to long-lasting musical careers.
There are many reasons I'm glad it's now 2011 and not 1997. The 90's slow jams have been replaced by hip-hop, we've got a non-intern-prone Democrat in the White House, and though we've lost Steve Jobs, he left behind an indelible mark on both technology and society. Also, when Hanson releases their first beer label next year -- yes, beer label, an IPA called "MmmHop" -- I'll be old enough to drink it and enjoy the full Hanson flavor.
Enjoy your Wednesday fill of guest blogger Juke Box Hero!
It had been a while since I last e-strolled the Rolling Stone "500 Greatest Songs of All
Time," so Brittany’s
reference in her ode to Pink/Mercury yesterday inspired a return visit. Starting
from the back, I was slightly yet immediately unnerved. Coming in at #494 is R.
Kelly’s "Ignition," narrowly defeating the Stones’ juicy "Brown Sugar" (#495)
and Weezer’s hip anthem "Buddy Holly" (#499).
Now obviously Mick, Keith, Rivers, and their respective
gangs get more love further up the list, but really? R. Kelly? A "500 Most Epic
Fails" list, certainly, but what is there to like about the cheesy
elevator music backgrounds and an utter lack of any lyrical or musical creativity
– other than those cuddly Duke undernerds whose music video cover became a
YouTube sensation back before Facebook had even left the Ivies?
But I digress. We’re here to talk about songs worth
listening to, YouTubes worth watching. Like some creepy, kooky, scintillating
Alice Cooper. Their (because then it was the band’s name, not just the adopted
moniker of Vincent Furnier – interesting trivia, eh? Thanks, Wikipedia) 1971
release "I’m Eighteen" gets on the RS
board at a pretty underrated #487.
No matter what kind of adolescence you actually had (mine
was relatively anger-free, which I often cite as the leading reason I’ll
never be a good rock musician), this song embodies the general youth experience so perfectly: the awkwardness, the insecurity, the raw manifestations of mental
and sexual maturity coalescing and superseding one another… It’s chaos and it’s
poetry: 'I gotta get outta this place/I go running in outer space.' We’ve all
been on those runs.
But for Alice,
it’s controlled chaos. They don’t take time for the song to develop; they
rock at will, spilling a searing guitar solo from the opening gates and rocking keyboards that
somehow find the magical musical balance of being tight yet sounding loose. And
though Cooper spends some time sitting onstage (I can’t blame him – those
gold-glitter leggings and towering silver platforms would have Gaga drooling
and the rest of us trying to find a more comfortable sitting position), all the sudden he gets up, albeit shakily, ascends to the band leader’s position, and reigns in his
minions, deftly signaling the close of the anthem as if he were Bernstein tying
up Beethoven. A master of his craft.
Whether or not the RS ranking is to be believed -- after all, Johnny Rotten himself chose this as his audition song for the
Sex Pistols, and we all know where that got him -- "I’m Eighteen" survives as a punk-rock classicism: a seething declaration of
dissatisfaction, futility (‘I get refused every day/Just don’t know what to
say’), and ultimately preference for one’s current shitty surroundings (‘I’m 18
and I like it/I ain’t 21’). And it's delivered with more talent and musicianship
than Rotten & Co. ever managed. Not that those
guys cared. Pass the whiskey.
If you're going to attempt Freddie Mercury, you'd better be ready to pull off Freddie Mercury. The man had a four-octave range, an unimpeachable fashion sense, and what is known as "stage presence." He is an icon, a performer whose personality and flamboyance guaranteed a fascinating live show, beyond the music itself. My generation missed something by not being alive to see him.
And "Bohemian Rhapsody" was not only a huge song when it came out in 1975 -- it has remained one of the most well-known songs in English, appearing in Rolling Stone's list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time. More importantly, "Bohemian Rhapsody" is an anthem celebrated at the climactic moment of every drunken dance party -- because, you know, who doesn't love a chorus of inebriated voices struggling to create harmony before giving up and head-banging themselves into oblivion.
My god, I love this song.
Despite the usual chorus of liquored voices, this is actually an incredibly difficult song to perform. It vacillates between a ballad, an opera, and hard rock. There's a crazy guitar solo. The six-minute epic causes blood pressure to spike at various points, particularly at 4 minutes in, when the song explodes from a chorale into a cymbal-crashing head-banger. And Pink is right there, drumstick in hand, rocking out.
We've come to expect a performer like Pink, whose 2009 Funhouse tour spanned three continents and 151 shows, to hold her own on the singing. After all, she rose from small town Pennsylvanian obscurity to become one of the richest and most popular pop singers of the millennium. She's had eleven Top 10 hits, and her mantle is weighed down by three Grammys, 5 MTV music video awards and two Brit awards -- so far. That mantle is likely in a kickass mansion, too, because in 2010 Forbes named Pink the 27th most powerful celebrity. That kind of meteoric rise requires more than musical talent -- it takes tenacity, risk, and a somewhat oversized personality.
The execution starts with the fashion, in which Pink pays direct homage to Freddie, with the patterned pants and replica yellow jacket. Freddie may not have worn pink pasties on his chest, but I'd venture he would approve of the overall effect:
One of Pink's many looks on the Funhouse tour. Left boob = pastie.
Freddie Mercury
But it's more than the look and the voice. Freddie was all about performance, and Pink seems to be a disciple of the same philosophy. She jumps all over the stage, jamming with the keyboardist and the lead guitarist, smacking the cymbals with borrowed drumsticks, conducting the band. The crazy funhouse set doesn't hurt the mood:
We may have lost Freddie Mercury much too soon, but Pink's performance accomplishes the task of honoring his memory, his role in music history, while also allowing her to show off her own stage chops. It's well-planned and well-performed from start to finish, a mix of old and new, classic and contemporary. In Pink's hands, a legendary song is both safe in its tradition and malleable in its execution.
In other words, I dig it.
What, you thought I was going to spend half the post talking about Freddie Mercury and then NOT give you a video? You're in good hands here, dear reader. Enjoy some classic Freddie (this video is part 1 of 5, from the 1985 Live Aid Festival):
I started this blog earlier this year for the specific purpose of getting a certain Weezer song out of my head. I'd literally listened to it a dozen times a day for a week, and I feared I may grow to hate the song, as tends to happen with radio overplay. By posting it on the blog, I got it out of my system and maintained the integrity of the intrinsic enjoyment it still brings me. That and Sara Bareilles is just so darn cute.
As you may have surmised by this point, I'm hoping to achieve the same success with this radio hit, a collaboration between Adam Levine of Maroon 5 and Travie McCoy of Gym Class Heroes. My love for Levine is no secret -- he's ear and eye candy of the highest caliber -- but Travie McCoy is also fun to watch, spitting rhymes while Adam dances with the mic stand.
Okay fine, so maybe I was watching Adam the entire time. But Travie sounds good, so I assume he's fun to watch too. Crank it up, appreciate when good songs make it to the top of the pop charts, and have a happy and productive Monday.
Today in America is a day of thanks. It is spent with friends and family, loved ones, and it's celebrated across races, religions, backgrounds, socioeconomic status, and other identifiers that we often use to divide ourselves as a society. It's a nice holiday with a traditional meal and traditional pastimes like football and drinking. It's sometimes stressful, a revelation of family strife or ineptitude in the kitchen. But hopefully, at the end of the day, we're happy we gathered together. These are the people you're spending your life with, not necessarily every day, but over the stretch of time and throughout life.
"I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life. Ohh, just to be with you is having the best day of my life." Dido's got the right idea. (She's also gorgeous and talented and so natural on stage. This is a relaxing choice if you're having a stressful holiday!)
Give thanks for those you love and those who love you back, make every day the best day of your life, and hey, why not make it someone else's best day ever too? Happy Thanksgiving!
Please welcome Juke Box Hero for his regular Wednesday guest post!
Some songs and artists are good in the studio, but when heard live or in extreme volume, are great. Earlier this month, in honor of
11/11/11, NPR’s tri-monthly music podcast "All Songs Considered" featured songs chosen by the hosts that "go to eleven: songs best heard extra-loud." They kicked off with the iconic clip of Christopher Guest from "This Is Spinal Tap" in which his character, Nigel
Tufnel, coolly explains why the band's amps go all the way to volume 11.
Throughout the podcast there were a couple of no-brainers, like Led
Zeppelin’s "Kashmir" and The Smiths' "How Soon Is Now?" These songs already stand out as
legendary, but blasting them through high-powered drivers still tickles the ear drums. One band that Mr. Boilen
& co. didn’t include, but that would’ve been appropriate, is Brooklyn-based
indie-rock outfit The Hold Steady. The group’s brand of rough-yet-catchy,
guitar-and-keyboard-laden dancehall jams, narrated by Minnesota native Craig Finn’s witty yet
vague, raspy lyrics, isn’t something I regularly dial up through the
ear buds -- but topping out the stereo or seen live, these guys are incredible.
Theirs is a raw, infectious energy that engages and feeds
off a hometown vibe: a large part of their songbook reads as inside jokes, at least to
those from Brooklyn or Minneapolis. In this track, Finn references numerous local roads and highways.
The overall sound isn’t anything ground-breaking, just solid, heavy pop-rock
hooks and seemingly simple structures in the vein of Bruce Springsteen or even
Van Halen (or dare I say Billy Joel at times?). "Southtown Girls" sounds like it
was bred specifically for local tavern singalongs, with its short chorus,
grinding bass and soaring, shimmering organ.
The Hold Steady is the kind of band you’d be proud as hell -- but
protective of -- if they were from your hometown. As for the rest of us, we’re
just glad those locals decided to share. Crank it up.
Structure is important. Structure brings order and a sense of purpose. Right now I'm deep into revisions of a short fiction story, and I'm struggling to keep the structure together, partly because the character experiences a freakout that I want to enhance by playing with syntax, making the structure part of the build-up itself. So structure is on my mind.
This song seems wonderfully free and unstructured. The two singers don't even end their notes together, they slide in and out of starts and stops, and a total meltdown happens about a minute in. And yet they start and end the song together, and what happens in the middle is both entertaining and musically viable.
Every song -- really, everything -- has a predetermined structure. Some just come loaded with accordions and incoherent babbling. Now if I could just find a reason to make my character an accordion player...
I love these small radio station performances. The recordings are up-close and well-lit, and of course the sound is clear and gorgeous. Singer Brendan Urie is only 24 years old, but his tone and inflections are flawless here. He also plays every instrument under the sun, from guitar to cello to trumpet, and he writes some of the band's songs. He's a natural performer, and in such a small space, this song -- from the band's 2005 debut album A Fever You Can't Sweat Out -- sounds different from versions I've heard before.
This song was Panic!'s only huge radio hit (so far). They've released two more albums since then, neither of which has gotten nearly as much hype as the first. I hope Panic! doesn't end up a one-hit wonder, and I considered posting one of their lesser-known songs, like their newest single, "The Ballad of Mona Lisa" (also a great song).
But I couldn't take my eyes off this video. It's an example of why I started this blog in the first place: the live version sounds even better than the album version. Enjoy, and consider this a friendly reminder to support your favorite artists by buying their albums!
So I realized today when I went back to the Beastie Boys post from earlier this week that the wrong video was posted. I'd originally planned on posting a video of "Sabotage," but then I found the one from the VH1 Hip Hop Honors and I changed my mind. The "Sabotage" video was not changed, and I feel silly because no one said anything. But that's neither here nor there.
Point is, it's fixed now. Yay! Go watch the awesome Beastie Boys video I intended to post!
I just love Lily Allen. She's an odd sight, wearing something related to a prom dress, barefoot, stalking the stage, smoking a cigarette, hair blowing in the Brazilian wind. And then the music starts at 1:25, a sexy, almost funky island beat, with warm horns* in the background. She sings about how much she hates the bully who was mean to her in school. Her voice glides up the chorus, ascending to the middle of the phrase -- "you're no friend of" -- and then lilting down the last two words -- "mine, girl." Even when Allen giggles in the middle of the phrase, around 3:40, she lands the last notes.
And I know smoking hasn't been cool in years, but juggling a neon yellow microphone and a cigarette is still impressive.
* At first I thought the solo at the beginning was played on trombone, and I got excited, because I too play trombone. But my excitement deflated when I caught a glimpse of a flugelhorn. Making up for this aural tease, the slide-a-rific bone solo around 4:10 is pretty satisfying in its rip-roaring simplicity.
Juke Box Hero is back for another Wednesday jam, and it looks like he's serving up some more hot blues. Take it away!
Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys may be one of the best blues musicians of our time. As a successful touring and recording artist, not to mention happily (much to my girlfriend’s dismay) married father, the 32-year-old Akron, Ohio native is a disciple of Mississippi blues legend Junior Kimbrough. Auerbach may not pass the "I slept in this suit and my woman shot me down" authentic-pathetic test for true blue sentiment, but man can he wail on an ax. Oh, and then there’s his salty tenor, dripping and gushing with raw attitude. As good as the guy has it now, there must be some serious adversity in his past that we don’t know about.
Though Auerbach is probably better known for his half-dozen Black Keys records, performing alongside fellow Akronite and drummer Pat Carney, he did venture off for a solo effort in 2009 titled Keep it Hid. Most of the gritty, lyrical tracks sound and feel like the Black Keys, but the drums are less bombastic (Carney wasn’t involved in this project, though the Bigfoot with maracas is rather imposing) and the instrumentation and layering is more complex (organs? synths? female harmony? oh my). But why change what ain’t baroque?
Though not exactly garage rock anymore, Auerbach’s only taken "a few baby steps up the basement stairs" here, according to Pitchfork’s Stephen M Deusener. Auerbach hadn’t exactly challenged himself to move that far out of the bluesy box, but he obviously took some creative steps forward, as evidenced on 2010’s tightened-up and more conceptual Brothers.
Like Brittany, I’m not generally a fan of the slow jam, but the title track from Auerbach’s solo debut is a beauty. The song is dark, mucky, a murder-robbery dirge ("They’re comin’ for me girl and I ain’t got time" – there can only be a few explanations). The roguish tone and wicked, convulsing solos (seen live, his spasmic playing borders on pornographic) perfectly convey an outlaw’s ballad. No, Carney wasn’t there, but it’s still a hot, black track.
In 2006, VH1 aired its third annual Hip Hop Honors, featuring an opening act from P Diddy, Fabolous and Q-Tip. They arrive in track suits, performing the Beastie Boys' "Hold It Now, Hit it" and "Paul
Revere," to seemingly unanimous audience approval. After a short (but really freaking great) DJ set by Mix Master Mike, the Beastie Boys themselves -- Mike D, MCA, and Ad-Rock -- take the stage, performing "So What'cha Want."
The Beastie Boys are infectious. No matter how many times you listen, it still sounds like yelling, but they're just such good writers, rappers, performers that they're entrancing. Verses spill out, one after the other, not rushing but tumbling, in a specific and rehearsed order, until at the five-minute mark Ad-Rock stops so he can "clear his throat." The stage is theirs. When the beat comes back, the audience screams. It's a great moment, and it's the reason the live show will always be better than the studio recording.
Decades after their start in New York as a hardcore punk trio, the Beastie Boys have evolved, still recording music, still performing live, and still making an entire line of MC's -- from Ice Cube to Run himself -- bob their heads. That's staying power, and it's worth a Tuesday tip of the hat.
Today my parents celebrate their 12th wedding anniversary. Ten of those years of married bliss have been spent living in Hawaii, so props to them for figuring out a way to prolong the honeymoon indefinitely.
Jack Johnson is a fellow Hawaiian, and this is my favorite of his songs. The song is about a couple who, after being together more than ten years, are still madly in love (get it? just like my parents! d'awwwww). Mr. Johnson is a wonderful storyteller, and he's true to the island philosophy of relaxed delivery -- as a rule, he doesn't wear shoes when he performs (unless he's at the White House). My parents will appreciate that. They'll also appreciate the Ben Stiller cameo at the beginning.
Today you will be treated to a romantic vision of a man with a confident vibrato singing as he walks down the street alongside an accordion player. And you'll either love this or you'll not. Speaking for myself, the way singer Zach Condon drags out every syllable, vibrating the ends of the notes, sliding from one to the next, makes me melt. He commands the musicians around him, directing them with his arms and his voice, leading the song. His voice holds together the ramshackle street gang (who are themselves wonderful musicians). This is an example of singer as leader.
Let's call this song exactly what it is. Let's call this week exactly what it is.
If you listen close, you can hear Aretha make a false entrance around 2:30. A reminder that we're all human. Don't think too hard today. Just jam out to the still undisputed queen, accidental stingers notwithstanding. If you have some sweet '70s threads to groove in, all the better.
I need to get a trio of backup singers to just follow me around and be sassy.
Making his weekly appearance, please welcome our new contributor, Juke Box Hero:
Brittany’s right, winter can be a good time for cozying up and cranking a few blue notes (though it doesn’t get that cold in the South – Muddy Waters was blue enough; who knows what he would’ve done if faced with Chicago winters and Cubs baseball). Still, the soulful singing and heavy rhythms of most blues tracks are fitting for a season that most people try to grind through, turning inward, rather than draw out with increased socializing (see: spring, summer, fall). And Mr. Hendrix knows a thing or two about grinding one out.
Though Jimi’s playing draws heavily from the blues, his more straightforward recordings in that genre have obviously been overshadowed by the trademark psychedelic rock. But the blues recordings that exist are no less remarkable. Over this past summer I happened upon the 1994 release Blues, a posthumous compilation of originals, covers, and previously unreleased material from Jimi. He pays homage to his blues idols, shows off his 12-string acumen, and juices these recordings with heady doses of shimmering, mind-blowing solos – delivering the blues as only ‘The Wild Man of Borneo’ can.
This "Catfish Blues" is no Hendrix original, but it is one grinding, guttural jam, the kind of hot, heavy blues that elicits leaden head bobbing and woeful sentiments from even the most well-off listeners. The embedded cut is apparently from the UK’s famous ‘Radio 1’ program(me) and has a slightly distant-sounding quality. Feeling slightly less connected with the recording only strengthens the piece’s against-the-world grit and, during Hendrix’s face-melting electric arias, utter other-worldliness. If only he was still living in this one.
There is such thing as too much of a good thing. Decent pop songs often die in this manner. The radio overplays Kelly or Rhianna or whoever else is topping the chart this week, and we love it until the moment we don't anymore.
But maybe all you need to fall in love with an overplayed song is to hear it anew. Such is the case with today's video, an acoustic version of a contender for summer/fall 2011's most overplayed song. "Pumped Up Kicks" was actually released in September 2010, but top 40 stations didn't notice it until a few months ago, at which point it shot to number 3 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 chart. It stayed there for eight weeks, and radio stations obligingly played it approximately 83 times a day for the duration.
It fits the mold of an alternative pop song. It's uptempo,with a playful melody. The lyrics don't really match the mood, describing a school shooting scene. If Marilyn Manson released this song, there would be outrage. But isn't this a lovely, pleasant thing to listen to?
No? You're still sick of it? Fair enough. But give the acoustic version a chance; if you like Mark Foster's voice in this version, you'll like the rest of the album too.
I'm not a purveyor of slow jams. As a teenager I was bored by any song slower than 160 beats per minute. No love lost for Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men, but it's just not my style. Thankfully I grew out of my generalized misconception -- there is obviously much to be loved in the largo and adagio tempo families -- but nevertheless I was irreversibly cultured to think of slow music as soothing, no matter what the lyrics said or meant. And so, on this manic Monday, I offer my definition of soothing -- a.k.a. Stars performing "Your Ex-Lover is Dead" live in the studio. Enjoy the three minutes and 15 seconds of quiet, almost delicate chords and harmonies. I do miss the cello and horns from the studio recording of the song, but I'll trade that for the sound quality here. The studio version also features an intro with a creepy old man saying, "If there's nothing left to burn, you must set yourself on fire" -- which pretty much counteracts the otherwise pleasant anti-anxiety effects of the music itself. I assume the creepy old man must not tour with the Canadian band, though I cannot confirm as Stars has no tour dates scheduled. Anyone readers seen them live?
I hope you enjoyed Juke Box Hero's first post yesterday on First Aid Kit. I spent the afternoon entranced by the Swedish songstresses, so I consider it a success. He'll be back next Wednesday.
Let's keep the Jack White lovin' going this week with a Dead Weather performance of "I Cut Like a Buffalo." This song does not follow a typical format, and I have the feeling some of you will like it and some of you will listen to it for 30 seconds and then turn it off. If nothing else, you have to be intrigued by the title -- are buffalos known for their cutting ability? Or lack thereof? The opening lyrics are, "I look like a woman but I cut like a buffalo." What the fuck, Jack?
In a 2009 Spin interview, White talked about how much this song means to him: "It just feels like I'm being the most truthful I've ever been with
myself ... I'm just obsessed with this song, but I'm scared to listen to
it at the same time." Considering all the music he's written, that's a huge admission, and so I struggle harder to understand what he means when he sing-shouts, "Wake me up when it's broke, just like a woman,
cut a record on my throat, then you break me wide open." The fragmented, analogous phrases and quips ("Is that you choking?" followed by painful choking noises) feels artistic and significant and deep, but I gotta be honest...I don't get it.
But I still love this song. The composition itself is basic, almost gutteral -- hard drum and keyboard hits on quarter notes, with White and lead singer Alison Mosshart practically shouting as the song stews. As you listen, head bobbing may be creep up unexpectedly. You can't help but groove along.
Sadly, the Dead Weather is not touring at the moment, but Mosshart will be in Chicago with her band the Kills in January. In fact, Uptown's Riv Theater is the first stop on their 2012 tour. White is all over behind the scenes, producing and collaborating constantly. He's performing with the Raconteurs in Florida and Georgia next weekend, but otherwise no tour dates are readily available. Jack, come to Chicago!!
Loyal readers (and anyone wandering the Internets),
I'm excited to introduce a new guest blogger, Juke Box Hero. He's a good friend with great taste in music and a sophisticated -- one might say global -- way about him. His posts will be appearing Wednesdays from now until infinity, or until he picks another day, whichever comes first.
Sir, the floor is yours.
- Brittany
I suppose you've really "made it" when you have Jack White calling you into his studio after a gig. The prolific rocktreprenuer snatched up the Swedish sirens known as First Aid Kit without skipping one high lonesome beat after seeing them perform a Nashville gig last October. The duo got to press this cover of "It Hurts Me Too" into vinyl for White's series of Third Man Records seven-inch one-offs. Theirs is a great success story for Mr. Gore to notch on his Internet belt; if not for MySpace and YouTube, First Aid Kit might still be stuck in the hills of Scandinavia. Fortunately for us, the world now sounds a little prettier.
The Söderberg sisters are the surefire rebuttal to any doubt that American-minded folk (revival) music is alive and well with today’s Swedish youth. Since 2007, the Stockholm-based duo of Johanna, 21, and Klara, 18, has been recording sweet, tight harmonies in the vein of the Carter Family, Gram Parsons, and even Simon & Garfunkel. The exotic novelty of foreigners channeling Americana wears off as soon as they count off a song ‘ett, tva, tre, fyra’ (one to four in Swedish). The girls aren’t just good for a couple of teenage troubadours; they could hold their own with your Partons, your Judds, your Dylans, your Baezeses…
Though the homespun tracks posted to their MySpace page initially drew a bit of attention from the Swedish music community, things really took off when they casually covered kindred spirits the Fleet Foxes’ "Tiger Mountain Peasant Song." They recorded the track in an actual Scandinavian forest, which also served as the setting for the music video. The brisk, pastoral setting coupled with their tinglingly strong vocals and innocent, elfish beauty made the video a quick hit on YouTube, even drawing the attention (and approval) of their heavily bearded honorees. A few acoustic strums later and they’d released two studio records, 2008's LP "Drunken Trees" and 2010’s EP "The Big Black & the Blue." Hence the young Swedish sisters embarked on what’s become a two-year international tour.
Unlike the Bed Intruders and Rebecca Blacks of our insta-stardom world, the mass discovery of First Aid Kit (the name apparently came from a Swedish-English dictionary entry) was fortunate. The girls’ emotional, narrative melodies may not be as genre-splittingly creative as their countrywoman Lykke Li (though they’re touring together now, so maybe some electro-power-pop will rub off?), but there’s an unmistakable genuineness, a raw soul, that consistently pours out through their soaring, intertwining voices.
We’ll leave you with one of my favourite tracks from their EP: "I Met Up with a King." Enjoy the flutey synths (Simon & G-Funk anyone?), that uncanny melding of Klara’s bright twangy mezzo and Johanna’s sultry alto, and the acknowledgment that despite the worldly depth of many of their songs’ lyrics, [their characters] have quite a ways to go yet: ‘Well I don’t know anything at all and we mean nothing to history… well thank God.’
This is my jam today. No explanation available except that it's a damn good song performed by damn good musicians. As we head toward winter -- snow flurries and freezing rain and hiding indoors -- anticipate an increase in bluesy videos. It's how we keep warm here in Chicago. Enjoy.
Sidenote: This video is the 101st to be posted to this blog. Happy arbitrary milestone, Daijams! To celebrate, tomorrow we'll feature a post by a new weekly contributor! Get excited!
I saw the original cast of In the Heights last year in New York with my friend Bethany. It was stunning. The energy of the rapping musical blew the doors off the house. YouTube cannot do justice to live theater, which is why I don't often indulge my showtunes addiction here. But you know what? Screw it. It's Friday. And this performance from the 2008 Tonys is sooooooo good.
Extra points if you spot the subliminal Alec Baldwin.
I'm obsessed with this song. It's off Adele's second album, released this year and immediately met with an exceptional amount of critical praise, especially considering it's her sophomore album. The sophomore album is typically a black hole where artists struggle to balance successful elements of the first album with expectations and predilections for the future. But not Adele. The radio simply cannot get enough of her. Even this song, which is a total downer about seeing an ex much later in life when they're doing better than you, has set the airwaves on fire. She's expected to sweep the Grammys in February, though she already won two in 2009 for Best New Artist and Best Female Pop Vocal Performance*.
So we're all obsessed with Adele (last name Adkins) this year. Why? It's not because she's writing songs about things we've never heard before; she talks about love and loss and empowerment and depression. Been there, done that. No, we're obsessed because she's an incredible. fucking. singer. Simply unmatched. And singing is really, really hard. It's not just notes and rhythms -- it's tone, attitude, presence. Once you master the technique, you still need to mean the words you sing.
Yesterday we looked at a Gaga performance, the choreography of movement, the coordination of outfit, the presentation of a character. Adele does none of that, but her performance is just as sophisticated, just as refined. She just leaves the batshit crazy part out of it.
The first minute of this video is spent with Adele, talking about the song and its meaning. The performance begins around the one minute marker, and it's a little slower than the album version -- all the better to draw out the notes, linger, suffer through them again. She gesticulates, her arms pushing the air with her hands as she pushes the notes with her breath in tandem, shaping the notes with her fingers. More force for more difficult runs, keeping time. She doesn't hit the high notes of the album version (possible evidence over her intermittent voice troubles), but everything she sings is soaked in power and regret.
Standing in her living room, younger than seems possible given her
wisdom, one of the best songstresses alive performs for the whole
world. This is what YouTube is for.
* It seems like they're getting pretty specific with these categories,
doesn't it? I wonder who won Best Male Non-Pop Cello
Performance, or Best Hermaphrodite Harmonica/Bass Drum Combination Performance.
First thing's first: Lady Gaga is not a musician. She's a performer. I mean this in the most complimentary way, as she goes beyond delivering good music to delivering an entire experience. Consider the scene: She's performing on The View for a middle-aged female audience that probably associates her music with their kids' generation. Gaga shows up in an almost traditional Houndstooth suit, complete with pearls and matching hat and purse (though she couldn't resist the matching Houndstooth face paint). She sits with the gals and politely, eloquently discusses everything from gay rights to drug use.
Then she gets up to perform, and somehow even a Houndstooth-patterned piano seems par for the course with Gaga. Rocking Houndstooth sunglasses, she perches on the bench, leaning into the Houndstooth microphone, singing directly to the audience and her "View" hosts. She takes her sunglasses off, then her hat, then she uncrosses her legs to get a better handle on the piano pedals. She growls to the audience -- "Come on!" -- and stands up, shoving the piano bench back, pounding the keys. And then she picks up the microphone and abandons the piano altogether, singing the bridge sans accompaniment (though the unseen band backtrack plays on). She returns to the piano for the final chorus, and then finishes off the song as she poses on the piano, flipping her skirt up to make sure enough leg is showing. Her stockings are Houndstooth as well. It was beautifully choreographed. As if you already couldn't take your eyes off the Houndstooth, Gaga's performance ensures you can't look away.
The song itself speaks directly to the listener -- "you and I," Gaga twangs, "there's something about you and I." Apparently her lover is a whiskey-swilling, Nebraska-bred boy for whom she's returned to claim as her own. It's pure fiction, but she sells it with details -- "six whole years" and being swept off her feet with Neil Young's "A Heart of Gold." She pounds her Houndstooth piano and pleads with the audience as if she really isn't going to leave the cornfield until she's convinced this guy to come with her. Where will they go? Back to her home in New York?
And why are they in Nebraska? I was excited to play this song for my true Nebraskan grandparents, but they were underwhelmed. The song's not really about Nebraska, of course; "Nevada" rhymes with "I love ya" just as well as "Nebraska." It's not about the location, though this song will likely still go down as "one about Nebraska," proudly played in bars from Omaha on the east border to Scottsbluff on the west. "Nebraska, Nebraska, I love ya!"
If you haven't yet, be sure to watch the legit weird music video for the song. There's a mermaid and some kind of alien robot and Gaga making out with her male alter ego.
There's an entire film dissertation somewhere in the subtext of that video,
but in live performance, we don't have to process any of that. Just focus on the Houndstooth, the perfectly timed crescendos of intensity, the acts of performance.
