Juke Box Hero joins us with your weekly dose of indie cred -- this time pairing Bon Iver's Justin Vernon with rapper Kanye West. What will they think of next?
Collaboration is the seed of evolution. The combination of two unique entities creates something new that’s a step forward, unique unto itself. (Ok, I’m not talking about making babies, though there are obvious ties.) When two artists work together, especially coming from different genres, their joint creation often surpasses and transcends anything either may have created alone. That’s part of the beauty of art: its inherent room for experimentation and evolution.
It shouldn’t surprise many that I’m following that last lofty sentence with one that includes the name Kanye West. Say what you will about ‘Yeezy’ – and many have said not-so-savory things – but despite all his antics, the man draws from an inexplicably deep well of creative force. From his throwback R&B-chipmunk sampling as a Jay-Z producer, to today's jam, a live cross-genre sampling with Bon Iver’s Grammy-winning Justin Vernon, for a track on his also-Grammy-winning album My Dark Twisted Fantasy, Yeezy's career has been filled with unusual match-ups.
With the Bon Iver teaming in particular, Mr. West put on a decidedly indie hat – though jury’s out on how he’d actually look in a trucker. His "Lost in the World" cut features the backbone of Bon Iver’s "Woods," which appears not on the group’s breakthrough record For Emma, Forever Ago, but on the less popular EP Blood Bank. Hipster cred, yo!
Vernon’s already auto-tuned falsetto seems pre-suited to various pairings, but to feature prominently on the final cut of what would be the biggest rap album of the year, if not the last decade? Where did that come from? What was West thinking? Probably that Vernon and Bon Iver would end up where they have, fresh off their Grammy win for Best New Artist – add visionary to the Yeezy’s resume. Who of his peers would’ve chosen to collaborate with a folksy indie crooner?
But more than just a sample, West and Vernon created a new song together, combining the unique strengths of each. West’s lyrical laundry list of dichotomies seems to highlight the unlikely pairing of artists, and yet, the song works with Vernon’s melancholy siren sustaining and growing; it all drives forward, develops into an infectious tribal beat that no one – indie, rap, country, classical – can resist.
Maybe I’m just a naïve idealist, but in this Coachella performance, it at least appears as if true musical collaboration happens in real time. More than just live sampling, Vernon and West actually look to be feeding off of each others' energy in true duet form. It’s hard to believe that Kanye could give up that much performance independence, even to a Grammy winner, but maybe even Mr. Gay Fish understands what it takes to evolve the species.
I've been fascinated with Ke$ha ever since her debut album dropped in January 2010. She was even one of the first artists I featured on this blog in March 2011. My interest is logical: after all, I'm a 24-year-old girl from the Midwest whose taste was formed under the influence of the Spice Girls and the boy bands of the 1990's, for whom dance music was not complete without some spoken sorta-rap. ("Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want!") From those beginnings, along with parallel interests in classic stylings of big band and rock and blues and so forth, a small piece of my heart has remained true to what American dance music has morphed into: the rap-infused club beats of artists like Katy Perry and Rihanna and Chris Brown and Ke$ha, artists who are popular thanks to a wide demographic, from the Spice Girl-influenced twenty-somethings to the tweens for whom Ke$ha (hailing from both Los Angeles and Nashville) is the spiciest girl they know. It's worth noting that the future music movers and shakers, the people who will buy pop albums in 10 years, are currently 10- and 11-year-olds like my little cousins who know all the words to Justin Bieber songs.
In fact, despite our stubborn ways, each successive generation's music and vocal taste has had a profound effect on society. For example, an article in today's New York Times discusses how young women set trends in our linguistic evolution. The clearest example is the Valley Girl inflection -- you know, like, when you uptalk? and all of your thoughts are, like, in the form of a question and punctuated with, like, these space fillers that help you dominate the conversation and manipulate others into thinking that, like, they have to do what you say? The article also describes a phenomenon called "vocal fry," which is best encapsulated by pop musicians like Britney Spears and -- you guessed it -- Ke$ha.
Here's a demonstration of vocal fry from a guy who I'm guessing wants you to buy books and lessons from him so you can learn how to sing. We'll take the free example, though:
As he mentions, vocal fry is a gravelly sound found at the bottom of your range -- the growl of a blues singer or a pop star whose range may need some buffering on the bottom. Speaking of which, has anyone done a study of the average vocal range of Britney Spears' albums? It seems to me she was hitting sing-songy notes back when she was a teenager, but her subsequent six albums have gotten a lot more guttural and alto-range. ("You want a piece of me?") I assume it's due to her transition from young, aspiring singer to all-out performer, complete with dance moves and snakes, leaving less time for singing.
Britney Spears in her infamous 2001 VMA performance with the snake.
Say what you will about Britney Spears or her singing talent, but the woman knows how to put on a show.
So, I argue, does Ke$ha -- except praise to heaven, she actually sings when she performs live. (Everyone remember Britney's 2007 "Gimme More" VMA debacle?) Ke$ha, instead of sacrificing singing, sacrifices the all-out dancing, leaving it to a team of blond-mulleted dancers while she and two back-up singers hit all the right notes. Let me repeat: The three of them execute harmonies, live, on dance tracks. This is in itself noteworthy, especially given that the recent Grammy "tribute to dance" featuring Chris Brown, David Guetta, Lil' Wayne, Deadmau5, and the Foo Fighters made it seem as though dance music is a studio-only production. The electronica, rock, and rap elements were performed live, but Chris Brown and David Guetta lip-synched their poptastic dance pieces so they could also perform some poptastic dance moves. I like dance moves, but the Grammy performance was a distressing indicator that popular dance music is more about the dance than the music, that singing doesn't seem to be a priority to the genre anymore. Dance music is thus discounted as a legitimate genre the way that romance novels are tossed aside by literary critics: the bad ones make everyone look bad.
But back Ke$ha, who does sing. In the video at the top of the post, which is from the 2010 American Music Awards, the singer -- who turns 25 this Thursday -- lets her freak flag fly, beginning the song in a disc jockey pod of some sort, wearing illuminated goggles. She's joined by two dancers wielding microphones and blond mullets, who retreat to stationary mic stands as the "100% dancers" take the stage behind Ke$ha. She sheds a layer of clothing and proceeds to sing, dance, and smash a guitar on stage. It feels a bit contrived; the guitar is presented by a back-up singer and Ke$ha strums it for a minute before holding it up to reveal "HATE" crossed out on the back. Eh, that's cool, but I've seen her actually play guitar, and she undersold it here for the sake of the gimmick. But the gimmick works as confetti falls and it's Ke$ha smash time, including a possibly accidental swipe against a dancer. The sparks literally fly, the song ends, and the singer stares down the audience until their ovation turns into a standing one. She smiles. Mission accomplished.
Cheer for me. Now.
I like Ke$ha because she actually sings, she writes all of her own music, and as a member of my generation (she's eight days older than me), she seems comfortable with who she is and what she presents to the world. She put green lipstick on her male dancers, ripped tights on everyone, and she mixed leopard print with what appears to be a leotard made of mirrors. Her voice seems to emerge already autotuned, and she throws in gasps and piques that are conversationally familiar to anyone born after 1980, particularly anyone who has spent time in a sorority. Often these vocal stylings are interpreted as vapid, but as linguistics professor Carmen Fought told the New York Times, "If women do something like uptalk or vocal fry, it’s immediately interpreted as insecure, emotional or even stupid...The
truth is this: Young women take linguistic features and use them as
power tools for building relationships." Hmmm, go on?
Times reporter Douglas Quenqua continues: "The idea that young women serve as incubators of vocal trends for the
culture at large has longstanding roots in linguistics. As Paris is to
fashion, the thinking goes, so are young women to linguistic innovation." So while you were making fun of Valley Girls, they were latching onto the dregs of your language skills, burrowing in and changing the way you think about language. Linguist Mark Liberman says that not only are women are half a generation ahead of men on the vocal soundscape, but it rubs off: his 2003 study of 12,000 phone conversations found that more men than women use the word "like" superfluously in conversation. He also (predictably) found that young people use it more often than older people, but the line has grown fuzzier as informal conversation has shifted to account for the tics of the younger generation.
Wear your colors proudly.
If all communication has a purpose, then these stylistic choices do too. Vocal fry, the creaky voice effect, was notably used by British men as far back as the 1960's to denote "superior social standing." Women use uptick to manipulate and lower their voices to sound more authoritative. And sometimes, the article notes, women use vocal fry to communicate boredom or disinterest -- emotions that Ke$ha will happily make you forget about for four and a half minutes while she stages a performance that demands you sit down and watch, so as not to miss anything good. Say what you will about Ke$ha, but like Britney, she knows how to put on a show. And unlike most of her dance music contemporaries, Ke$ha doesn't value the show above the music. And if record sales are any indication, we're listening.
We interrupt your regularly scheduled music for an exciting announcement!
It was almost a year ago that I started this blog as a fun side project, to keep me writing on a daily basis and to articulate for my friends and family my reverence for genuinely talented musicians. Though I mostly write for myself and to impress my mother, a few of my posts went viral thanks to Twitter, Pinterest, and the Internet's general interest in Freddie Mercury's fashion choices. Next week, for Daijams' one-year anniversary, I'll do a round-up of the five most popular posts from the past year. It's been a great ride, and I'm excited to reflect on all the music we've covered.
It's also been a treat these past few months to have guest blogger Juke Box Hero taking turns at the turntable. His taste in music is, I like to think, a nice complement of my own, and it's been wonderful to have someone to bounce ideas off. So far he's introduced me to half a dozen artists I'd never even heard of, many from across the pond, and so as a music lover I am indebted. Mostly, I'm thankful for the support and encouragement his weekly presence here has lent me. Thanks a million, JBH!
Now for the news: I'm thrilled to announce that my mother will have some company in the readership gallery, as Daijams is now a Featured Partner on Flud, a mobile social news reader for iPhone and iPad. The Flud app converts our daily posts -- as well as your other favorite web content, from blogs to industry-leading news sources -- into a news stream that integrates with Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Google Reader, Read It Later, Instapaper, and email accounts.
Download the app here and construct your custom news stream. And be sure to add Daijams right away! We'll be here with your live music fix and quality original content on a daily basis. Thank you so much for reading and listening and being a part of this community!
And now, today's song comes from early 80's New Wave scions the Buggles. "Video Killed the Radio Star," their only hit, topped the charts in 16 countries when it was released in 1979. More importantly to members of Generation X, the music video was the first video to air on MTV at midnight on August 1st, 1981.
Of course, they were right -- the introduction of music television and videos completely changed the industry. Video may not have killed the radio star, but it did usher in a new era.
But it's funny that the Buggles were purportedly nostalgic for the way things were, since they themselves were primarily a studio band and thus never toured or played live shows. In fact Trevor Horn, the lead singer in the glasses, says at the end that this 2004 performance is the first time the band
has played the song in public since they recorded it in the studio 25
years earlier. Even the original female back-up singers came out for the show. How's that for some great nostalgia?
Okay, this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you, but I'm going to stick with my original plan for today, which was to highlight this year's two Oscar nominees for Best Original Song. It's, er, a pretty weak field.
Despite there being 39 other contenders -- let me repeat, THIRTY-NINE other contenders, including decent songs by Mary J. Blige, Lady Gaga, and Elvis Costello -- only the bare minimum two songs were nominated this year, signaling how little of a shit the Academy gives when it comes to music.
As a reminder, this is the category that has been won by beloved songs like "Over the Rainbow" (1939), "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah" (1947), "Baby It's Cold Outside" (1949), the "Theme from Shaft"(1971), "(I've Had) The Time of My Life" (1986), and "Lose Yourself" (2003), amongst many others. (The 1990s were pretty much ruled by Disney and Celine Dion.)
But while it's been tradition since 1946 for the nominated songs to be
performed during the telecast -- they've only been canceled once, in
2010, for time crunch reasons -- the Academy quietly killed the
performances for this year. It's probably for the best.
With zero ado, here are your nominees:
"Man or Muppet" from The Muppets, music and lyrics by Bret McKenzie
I enjoyed the new Muppet movie, but the last thing I want to see
while wearing a cocktail dress and sipping a vodka martini is a man
singing a power ballad about whether he's more man or Muppet, even if he is one-half of the hilarious Flight of the Conchords duo.
"Real in Rio" from Rio, music by Sergio Mendes and Carlinhos Brown, lyrics by Siedah Garrett
Juke Box Hero with us today with another new band for the list, the Scottish band We Were Promised Jetpacks.
This Edinburgh-formed indie rock foursome lists The Twilight Sad among their
influences, so it’s no surprise I found myself digging them out of the ol’ iTunes playlist
after writing about The Sad a few weeks ago. The Jetpacks share a few things sonically
with their role modes – including fantastic and clearly audible, if not comprehensible,
brogues – but separate themselves with an energy that’s not necessarily greater, but
certainly more frenetic than their shoegazing countrymen, the Sad.
The Jetpacks are another example of kids living the dream: They started making a name for the
band after winning a local battle of the bands; Fat Cat Records took notice after friends
and future label mates Frightened Rabbit talked up the songs streaming on their MySpace
page. A few years and two full-length records later, the boys are pretty much on their
way, touring internationally and playing to packed houses (though somehow I’ve missed them twice in the last year
at two different venues within an hour of me). Sure makes it sound pretty easy to make it as a musician, eh?
Though I used the word "frenetic" earlier to describe their energy, the Jetpacks are a bit more well-
rounded than that one adjective. There’s a lot of dynamic fluctuation in their tracks,
but they keep the energy constant with driving tempos throughout. In quieter sections
that are either cooling off or building up to louder, heavier passages, there’s still an
emotional thread that’s maintained rhythmically, giving the impression that things might
just explode at any instant.
When they do explode, as you can see and hear in this video, it’s not always the prettiest.
Hell, it’s a bit harsh at times. These guys were obviously juked up for this live-radio
performance; they rush sporadically, have tuning issues – everything just sounds a bit on
edge, a bit too tight. But it’s an honest, endearing performance. You can tell they
care a lot about their music, about putting on a good show. I'm not saying those qualities alone
make a band good, but they can go a long way in helping develop even a modest talent
and skill into something truly great. Keep an eye on these guys.
Overnight, it seems, a guerrilla marketing team has conspired to drape the city in advertisements for the upcoming Hunger Games movie. Billboards, subway signs, online links and fan pages, even a tumblr of memes before the movie has even been released. Of course, we've seen this fanaticism before, particularly when it comes to young adult fantasy series.
So I'm bracing myself for the onslaught of whatever happens when good (or just popular) books are, for better or worse, turned into movies. Crucial to the culture of those movies is the music, and the artists chosen for the film -- whether they're already big names or not -- get incredible exposure.
Released last week, the full Hunger Games soundtrack list features heavyweights like Taylor Swift, Miranda Lambert, and Maroon 5; some "indie" bands like Arcade Fire and the Decemberists; and a few little-known groups, like this Alabama sister act. The Secret Sisters released their debut album in October 2010, and it reached #27 on the Billboard country charts, signaling that these twangy crooners may be simmering to be the next big thing in the genre. The boost of this movie soundtrack could do for them what Twilight did for Paramore, introducing them to a huge new potential fan market. Of course, having a connection was key; the executive producer of the album, Grammy winner T Bone Burnett, is also the producer for the Secret Sisters. He's also worked with Allison Krauss, John Mellencamp, and Elton John, to name a few, so I'd venture that the girls are in capable hands.
The song, "Tomorrow Will Be Kinder," was written in response to the tornadoes that ripped through the sisters' home state last April. The haunting melody is complimented by a warm harmony, a full sound that reflects the kinship of the two singers. (They really are sisters.) And the optimism of the lyrics -- "A brighter day is coming my way, yes,
tomorrow will be kinder" -- will strike a particularly poignant chord in the bleak, joyless world of the Hunger Games characters, for whom tomorrow may not exist at all.
OH MAN I'M SO EXCITED FOR THIS MOVIE. The soundtrack will be released on March 20, the movie on March 23, the score on March 26. Full feature trailer and soundtrack list after the jump!
Irish rockabilly singer-songwriter Imelda May is a workhorse of a musician. She's released three albums since 2002 and toured each of them all over Europe and the U.S. YouTube is rife with videos to choose from, including performances at Lollapalooza 2011 and festivals in Spain and Ireland. I chose this indoor Spanish concert because generally the sound is better than the festivals -- it doesn't bleed as much and the singer doesn't have to scream, though the roughness in May's voice works in either venue. (The first minute of video is a bit muted, but the sound crisps after that.) I also like how close the cameras gets to the rest of the band, the bluesy trumpet solo, the upright bassist thumping along for an entire hour.
And how about May herself, rocking a modern, swirled pompadour ponytail, a skintight black-and-white striped dress, and red heels. She wrote all the songs herself, and she leads the band in every sense, keeping time on her hip with a tambourine for most of the show. Her voice contains traces of Billie Holiday, a southern rockabilly growl with an Irish accent, and a soulful moan that reminds me of Adele at times. Is it any wonder I'm smitten?
In the U.S., we haven't had much rockabilly in the Top 40 since the heyday of the 1950's, when the likes of Jerry Lee Lewis and Carl Perkins ruled the charts with "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On" and "Blue Suede Shoes." Imelda May is the best I've seen at recreating the energy those performers had on stage and in their vocals. Could Imelda May find the formula to bring the genre back to the spotlight, even for a single or two? That's what I'm hoping for, but in the meantime she's keeping busy -- last week she and her husband, guitarist Darrel Higham (who, by the way, definitely has an Elvis thing going on), announced they're pregnant with their first child, due in August. But that won't stop her from finishing her April/May tour of the U.K. and Europe, including a stop at Royal Albert Hall in London. Keep the new YouTube videos flowing!
Talent, as the Jacksons, the Osmonds, the Bee Gees, and the Kardashians have proven, is often hereditary. In 1966, when her cousin Whitney Houston was just three years old, Dionne Warwick flew to France to perform a five-week engagement at the Paris Olympia. She'd risen to stardom quickly after finding a happy songwriting match with Burt Bacharach and Hal David, who wrote her first hit song, "Don't Make Me Over," after she stormed out of the studio and yelled at them the title phrase because she was passed up for a song she'd been promised. The new song, written specifically for her, was recorded in August 1962 and was the first of 56 charted singles Warwick placed on the Billboard Hot 100 Chart between 1962 and 1998. (She was such small fries in the beginning that they misspelled her name -- Dionne Warrick -- on the debut's cover. She's gone by Warwick ever since.)
By the time she got to Paris, in 1966, Warwick had five albums and a Grammy nomination under her belt. In this clip she performs the Righteous Brothers' "Unchained Melody," her debut single "Don't Make Me Over," and
"You'll Never Get to Heaven," off her third album, which you can definitely skip. The first two songs are captivating, though; the dramatic black-and-white cinematography, along with her focused concentration on the music, ramp up her performance beyond what her vocals deliver. She's in no rush, especially in the familiar grooves of the song that launched her career.
With women like Dionne Warwick to look up to in her own family -- not to mention godmother Aretha Franklin -- it's no wonder Whitney Houston found the success she did in the music industry. Talent and connections work wonders.
Juke Box Hero is with us today to weigh in on this year's two-time Grammy winner and Best New Artist, Bon Iver.
I suppose I should call Bon Iver (Justin Vernon – yes, there are other band member,
but it’s basically him) a game-changer. When was the last time, since Prince, a
male musician has been so popular while singing mostly in falsetto? And no, Adam Levine’s full voice doesn’t count. It seems like it shouldn’t be something to get
worked up about, but they are unusual – Vernon's whiny-Auto-Tuned vocals – and they don’t
always gel so nicely with the more mellow tones of his guitar. But people
have been digging it, I’m digging it, so let’s go with it.
And when I say people are digging it, I mean really digging it. The man, despite hisown hesitation at being involved at all, walked away with
not one, but TWO of music’s biggest awards this weekend. Bagging Best New Artist
doesn’t surprise me as much as Best Alternative Album for Bon Iver. Alternative?
Really? How wide a net were they casting here? Folk, yes; country, maybe; but Alt?
He ‘collaborated’ on Kanye’s Dark Twisted Fantasy, so why not have him leapfrog
Yeazy for Best Rap Album? Does that also make him a game-changer, or just an
example of a confused awards organization? Does Vernon really belong under the Alternative umbrella with Thom Yorke, Kurt Cobain, and Dave Grohl? How big is this umbrella anyway? It’s as if, with all the
genre cross-breeding going on these days, rather than get more specific about
what each artist sounds like, we’re content to place someone on the team where they
somewhat resemble the archetype.
Perhaps the Grammys are too inflated.
The debate isn’t new and I don’t have much to add to it, but the fact that Vernon
could win for Best Alternative Album just shows how mixed up the industry and fans
are about the state of genre distinction. If something doesn’t fit inside the box, it’s
probably better left out of it.
But what of today's video, "Skinny Love"?
I won't tell you Vernon’s whole story, about how he left a band, broke
up with a girlfriend, contracted mono, then holed up in a Wisconsin cabin over a
dreary winter to record what became his breakout record, For Emma, Forever Ago.
His songwriting method was interesting, though; he wrote all the melodies first, later adding lyrics that were chosen for the way they sounded with the music rather than for being finely crafted poetry. Maybe they end up sounding like the latter anyway,
but that’s apparently just coincidence. Or genius.
"Skinny Love," a cut from Emma, is a beautiful, emotional, loping jam – but a jam
nonetheless. Vernon’s groove and melody are transfixing, and he does an incredible
job of using his full range of instruments despite the stripped-down arrangement.
It sticks with you, this song, like peanut butter to the roof of your aural mouth. It’s
even been covered by petite pop pianist Birdy, though how could you improve on the
song’s already warm, emotional intimacy?
I do wonder which Grammy Birdy would be
nominated for… Best Classical-esque Cover of an Alternative Artist Who’s Really More Like Auto-Folk-Tune?
It's Wednesday, which would usually mean a post from Mr. Juke Box Hero, but a busy week combined with lavishing his lady with thoughtful Valentine's Day courtesies has put him out of commission until tomorrow.
Instead, in recognition of the likelihood that we all celebrated (or pointedly ignored) yesterday's Hallmark holiday in ways that may require some musical soothing the morning after, here are a few videos to set the mood for today. Choose your own adventure!
How did you spend Valentine's Day?
a) With my beloved! It was beautiful and perfect!
b) With my beloved! It was somewhat less than beautiful and perfect.
c) On an awkward date.
d) Alone, because I chose to be alone, goddammit.
e) Alone, with a tub of ice cream.
f) Alone, with a bottle of vodka.
We interrupt your regularly scheduled Daijams' Full Concert Tuesday to bring you...an even longer concert, interspersed with awards to some of America's (er, the music industry's) favorite artists! Let's recap the most-watched Grammy Awards since Michael Jackson's eight-category sweep in 1984.
In the 54th annual showcase of America's taste in music, there was much to be joyful about. As I mentioned yesterday, and as you've no doubt seen all over the Internets, the soul-wrenching British contralto Adele made a clean sweep, winning every category in which she was nominated for a total of six golden, wood-mounted gramophone statuettes, tying Beyoncé's record for the most wins by a female performer in one year. I just adore her photo shoot backstage, and look at how it compares to 2009's two (measly) wins:
GIRL YOU LOOK STUNNING! Left 2009; right 2012.
My roommates and I sat down to watch the Grammys about an hour and a half late on Sunday night, but thanks to the magic of DVR, it meant we got to skip previews and commercials and get right to the good stuff. We cuddled up and settled in for a dose of Americana. We weren't waiting long, as 62-year-old vintage American rocker Bruce Springsteen opened the evening with a performance of "We Take Care of Our Own." I'll be honest, most of Springsteen's songs sound much the same to me, and I feared a descent into boredom with yet another generic display of patriotism. But damn, who doesn't love the Boss? He's such a great musician, not to mention the fact that the guy is still standing on speakers, windmilling his guitar like a rock star. The 21-time Grammy winner deserved the room's standing ovation.
After host LL Cool J presented a somber Whitney Houston tribute, the Grammys continued with a healthy dose of exuberance, which was a relief -- we would honor both Whitney and the winners by celebrating the joy that music brings to our lives. "This night is bigger than any one of us," Mr. Cool J reminded us. "This night is about
something truly universal and healing. This night is about music." Kind of cheesy, but totally on point, and it was the host's finest moment of the night.
We were off to the races with Bruno Mars' performance of "Runaway Baby" off 2010's Doo-Wops and Hooligans. The 26-year-old rocked the house with his soulful voice, gold Dolce & Gabbana jacket and matching bow tie, and tight, low-impact choreography. My roommates and I agreed he was definitely singing live, as had the Boss, making the evening 2/2 thus far. Mars even got playful: "Tonight we celebrate music! Tonight we celebrate the beautiful Whitney Houston! So get off your rich asses and have some fun!" The rest, you might say, was James Brown.
Last night, the 2012 Grammys -- otherwise known as the Whitney/Adele Show -- delivered Music's Greatest Night, including memorable (and mostly-not-lip-synced) live performances, mediocre fashion choices, and plenty to talk about. I'm working on a long-form recap and reaction post for tomorrow, so today's post is a quick tease.
Get it, girl.
As expected, the evening was owned by Adele, who swept her six categories including Record, Song, and Album of the Year, as well as Whitney Houston, a legendary singer and one of the most famous women in America, who died less than 24 hours before the Red Carpet began. After an opening number by all-American rock star Bruce Springsteen, ceremony host LL Cool J began the 54th Annual Grammys with a prayer for Whitney and a clip of her 1994 Grammy performance of "I Will Always Love You," for which she won both Record and Female Pop Vocal Performance of the Year. (And which, I just learned on Wikipedia, was originally released by Dolly Parton in 1974 and covered by Whitney for the 1992 Bodyguard soundtrack. Factoid!)
There were a few surprises throughout the evening, including a win for anti-award show Best New Artist Bon Iver, as well as adorably endearing performances from the re-formed and 50-years'-more-handsome Beach Boys, who were joined on stage by Maroon 5 and Foster the People, and the "Rhinestone Cowboy" himself, Glen Campbell, who was recently diagnosed with Alzheimer's but showed no signs of it while singing with the Band Perry and Blake Shelton.
Tune in tomorrow for the full list of winners and more on the evening's performances, which also featured the five-win Foo Fighters; duets between Alicia Keys and Bonnie Raitt, Tony Bennett and Carrie Underwood, Jason Aldean and Kelly Clarkson, and Chris Martin and Rihanna; as well as a stitched-up and strong-as-ever Adele, an energetically retro and fleet-footed Bruno Mars, a mostly lip-sycned but dancin' Chris Brown, a plain-dressed and banjo-laden Taylor Swift, a stoic and bluesy Sir Paul McCartney, a metallic and newly single Katy Perry, an ever-creepy but head-bang-worthy deadmau5, a possessed and even creepier Nicki Minaj, a Whitney tribute by a teary-eyed Jennifer Hudson, and a full-on guitar superstar orgy led by Sir Paul himself.
I'm in Cincinnati for the weekend. My hosts are intent on providing me with an authentic Cinci experience, so our agenda includes both Graeter's ice cream and skyline chili, as well as drive-bys of Cinci landmarks like the Bengals stadium and the gorgeous Cincinnati Music Hall. I'm also pushing for a visit to the Creation Museum just across the border in Kentucky. I hear there are dinosaurs with saddles!
That...doesn't seem right.
But the Cincinnati cultural experience wouldn't be complete without the Isley Brothers, arguably the most famous musicians to come out of this mild-mannered, Midwestern town. (Apologies to both the Lachey brothers and Doris Day, who didn't make the cut.) The Isley Brothers featured a line-up of six different Isleys and an Isley-in-law. They started in gospel but switched to secular tunes in the mid-1950's, striking gold with their first hit, 1959's "Shout." Drunken toga parties haven't been the same since.
But they didn't stop there. Over the next 10 years the Isley Brothers released a bunch of songs that are still spun in R&B circles, including "Twist and Shout" (though the Beatles cover outsold the Isleys' original track). They didn't see huge success again until 1969, when they released "It's Your Thing" and won their only Grammy. They even performed the song at that year's ceremony:
After that, the Isley Brothers shuffled the line-up and their smashing success slowed to a dull roar, but they still managed to score at least one Hot 100 hit in each of six consecutive decades: the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, and 2000s. (Five of those decades saw a Top 40 hit.) They were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1992.
And just because I love obscure music trivia, you might be interested to learn that a young Elton John played keyboards for the Isley Brothers' 1964 United Kingtom tour. And their 1966 single "Testify" features guitarist Jimmy James, later known as Jimi Hendrix. I wonder whether they introduced him to skyline chili...
Don't forget to watch the Grammys this Sunday at 8/7c on CBS. Live performances will feature Paul McCartney, Chris Brown, Rihanna, Coldplay, Mars, Foo Fighters, Taylor Swift, Jason Aldean, Kelly Clarkson, and Adele.
I'm on the road today, so here's a quickie. I am still obsessed with the Adele album I mentioned at the end of December, thus today's seven-hour bus ride between Chicago and Cincinnati will feature this song in heavy rotation. The lyrics are a total bummer -- she's talking to the guy who used to love her (you know, the one who broke her heart, leading her to write songs that have subsequently made her millions of dollars), and she's pretty much begging him to take her back. "Don't you remember the reason you loved me before?" she cries. "I gave you the space so you could breathe, I kept my distance so you could be free."
Apparently that didn't really work.
But Adele has got no time for pride, either in the lyrics or in her appearance in this video. It's such a treat to see Adele sans her usual cake of makeup. She looks like she may have just gotten up off the couch, after sitting there crying for the last few months.
Pull yourself together, woman.
Crying about how rich she is, that is.
Tune in tomorrow for an exciting post from "abroad" (ie Cincinnati), and don't miss Adele performing on the Grammys this Sunday night!
Please welcome Juke Box Hero, checking in with his weekly guest post and yet another great indie band from across the pond.
Call it seasonal affective disorder, but Brittany’s post about the blues yesterday
definitely got me teed up to continue the conversation. Other signs also pointed to why I should piggy-back my lovely hostess: yesterday's featured band The Black Keys’ just released a new music video for the glittery gospel rock "Gold on the Ceiling," off their latest release El Camino; then, of all things, a live version of Janis Joplin’s muggy, soul-crushing blues ballad "Ball and Chain" shuffled up on the ol’ iPod. But no, I thought, this is not a blues-only blog (though maybe it should be). Let’s mix it up at least a little.
Enter Scotland’s brogue-tastic electro-drone version of the blues: The Twilight Sad. Hand it to ‘em, because even their name would make Robert Johnson ask the devil about refinancing his soul just to keep up. This near-Glasgow-based indie trio has been shoegazing together since 2003, but they didn’t release an album until 2007, the critically acclaimed debut Fourteen Autumns & Fifteen Winters. Their heavy lyrics and multi-layered, multi-instrument soundscapes make a particularly deep impact in live gigs, where they’re known to add several players and crank that shit up to 11.
Aside from being a timely title for the season, "Cold Days" is a dark and brooding, yet still powerfully energetic block of audio venting, worthy of following up the Keys. There’s a focus to their intensity, like a laser beam of angst, and the trance-inducing electronic chords opening the track set the stage for the more profound eardrum assault on the way.
Though sonically the Sad don’t follow any kind of bluesy structures, their lyrics are the right kind of vague, dour mix that’s simple enough to not mean much to the casual listener further than "my baby left me," but they still ring true, straight to the ticker, in the raw emotion through which it’s vocalized – and that’s blues enough for me.
What's so sexy about the blues? Is it the raunchy guitar, the gritty vocals? Is it the slurred lyrics, the way the singer breathes onto the microphone, the way he sings, moans, with more than his voice, with his whole body? Is it the lyrics themselves, often plaintive, dejected, but still hopeful (because if there's nothing at stake, then why cry blue?)? Or is it the way the musicians always seem to get swept up into the music, hitting a groove like a nerve and then striking it over and over, massaging it out, closing their eyes and feeling each other through their instruments, like extensions of their fingertips?
In college, I sang alto in my music sorority's a cappella group. As a junior, I started arranging music for it -- personal favorites like Katy Perry's "Hot 'n Cold," the Barenaked Ladies' "Pinch Me," even the estrogen-laden, Grammy-winning Moulin Rouge version of "Lady Marmalade."
If only we'd had their costume budget.
After awhile, "That song would sound great in a cappella!" became one of my patented (and much-teased) catchphrases. I started an iTunes playlist of songs I wanted to arrange someday -- Sara Bareilles and Amy Winehouse, Led Zeppelin and Maroon 5, Lily Allen and Alanis Morissette. I just knew that everything would sound new and interesting and original in our own voices, with our own melodic undercurrents and featured solos and quirky performance gimmicks. ("Let's all start facing the back, snapping, and turn together" was getting pretty fancy, as far as we were concerned.) It was all in good fun, and our weekly, riotous rehearsals were a reminder of why I love making music, especially with friends.
Eventually we graduated, and my copy of Finale music composition software sat dormant, half-finished arrangements of the Beatles and Jason Mraz doomed to languish on my laptop forever.
After college, many of us stayed in the Chicago area, and we've been singing together in more or less official capacities ever since, each fitting rehearsals in between first jobs, graduate school, and settling into our individual metropolitan lifestyles. We floundered for awhile, struggling to find the time to get nine or ten busy people in the same room, but music is what brought us together in the first place, and through sheer will and the luck of proximity, a cappella music has remained a part of our weekly ritual, a building block of our friendship. (Life lesson: No one will ever get sick of "King of Wishful Thinking.") Recently we reorganized, renamed ourselves, and put on our first performance of the year. It was rocky in places, but it felt great to sing harmony with my friends just for the pure joy of it, and now each of us are revved up and eager for more. Song ideas and even completed arrangements have been flying across our email listserv, and I feel myself getting swept up again in a cappella fever.
And so I started a new iTunes playlist of songs to arrange.
First up on that list is today's jam, fun.'s "We Are Young," the lead single off the band's sophomore album Some Nights, to be released this month. This acoustic version downplays the drama of the studio version, with its building chords, gospel-like chorus, and Janelle Monáe cameo:
But lead singer Nate Ruess is just as mesmerizing here as when he fronted The Format. He also has the most understated Wikipedia entry I've seen for an artist, or anyone. That simplicity, also reflected in the band's name, plays so well in this song, in which Ruess pleads over driving piano riffs and backing vocals for someone to "come and carry me home tonight" because "tonight, we are young." The chorus swells and voices join in and the song becomes an anthem for the current generation, or any generation: "So we'll set the world on fire, we can grow brighter than the suuuuuuuuuuun!" [Emphasis added, because it's absolutely the most fun part of the song to sing, and when it comes to a cappella, having fun is what it's all about.]
This is fun.'s first charting single -- they've been around since 2008, literally a week after The Format broke up -- but if the songwriting stays this simple, the execution this unadulteratedly guileless, the lyrics this joyfully unrestrained, then we're all in for some serious fun.
(I'm sorry, I just had to.)
You know you've made it when your song is featured in a Super Bowl commercial:
If you were a hipster in the 1990's, then you know Soul Coughing. The New York-based band made its mark on the college crowd thanks to an unusual mix of rock, hip-hop, and electronica samples (the band billed themselves as "deep slacker jazz") laid over vocalist Mike Doughty's non-linear, half-spoken, half-sung, likely high-as-shit poetry. The effect is mesmerizing: the plucky upright bass line, the guitar's grooving accents, the weird sounds coming from the piano, a bleached blond Doughty basking in yellow stage lights, spitting out the lyrics as he dances with the mic stand -- if you're not into it by the time the sticks kick in at 30 seconds, then the invisible gods of beat might just start bobbing your head for you.
Of course, you probably shouldn't listen too closely, because the lyrics make no sense whatsoever:
"A man drives a plane
into the Chrysler building.
Saskatoon is in the room
Poulsbo is in the room
Bennetsville is in the room
Palmyra is in the room [note: these are various cities in the modern U.S. and Canada, as well as ancient Syria]
Is Chicago!
Is not Chicago!
Is Chicago!
Is not Chicago!"
Uh, yeah, okay Mike.
Still, "Is Chicago, Is Not Chicago" is superficially about Chicago (in that you get to say "Chicago" a lot), and it's groovy, and it was the first song off the band's debut album Ruby Vroom back in 1994, so it's a great place to leap into the story of one of the quieter cult classic bands of the last couple decades.
After three albums and what seemed like a modest but happy ride through the mid- and late-nineties, the band broke up in 2000, though Mike Doughty is still trucking, releasing solo albums on Dave Matthews' label and his own for the last few years. His most recent album dropped this past Wednesday, and he also released his first memoir last month in which Soul Coughing fans may be sad to learn the extent of his disdain for the years he spent with the band; apparently the experience left him exhausted, bitter, and addicted to various tangible substances (alcohol, drugs) and intangible substances (fame, attention). Check out the new album here and the new book here.
And if you want more, check out this interview with Doughty, uploaded yesterday, in which he talks about Soul Coughing, the solo career, the drugs, and his journey:
He essentially blames the breakup of the band (and the fact that they
didn't make it as big as the Beastie Boys) on his bandmates and his drug use. (Kids: Just say no!) But he seems to be in a good place now: "If
there's just 55 people listening to the music that I make,
and I'm eating food and sleeping in a bed - and making music that I
love and believe in - I have a fantastic life."
In 1969, band manager Sam Cutler introduced the Rolling Stones as "the greatest rock and roll band in the world" -- a nickname that has stuck, regardless of one's belief in the veracity of the statement.
Today I'm going to tell you the story of a song, and of the band that made it famous. Specifically, this song and this band:
That's a recording of the Rolling Stones on the Ed Sullivan Show in October 1964, five years before their manager made his somewhat lofty introduction. Note that Ed Sullivan fumbles a bit in his own introduction, trying to remember the name of both the song and the band, his eyes searching off-stage for a cue card, his arms raised in distracted vexation. This is because the Rolling Stones were, at that time, a brand-new band.
They'd released their first album in the U.K. the year earlier -- full of covers, with only a few original tunes -- and it had done modestly well, well enough that they got to start playing outside of London, even securing their first U.S. tour in the summer of 1964. Mick Jagger and Keith Richards hadn't yet become the songwriting legends that would carry the band through more than 20 albums; that first performance on Ed Sullivan, they were only 21 years
old, and probably thrilled to be playing on TV at all. As Ed Sullivan's disinterest suggests, they were no more than a moderately successful British rock & roll, blues band.
But perhaps Ed Sullivan is actually just flustered by the screaming girls, who seem to be warming up for what will become a constant drone of girl-sighs and screeches of ecstasy throughout the performance. This was a sign of good things to come, but at the time the Rolling Stones must have been relieved to hear it. The group's hopes for U.S. success hinged on their ability to translate the enthusiasm for British rock spurred by the Beatles in the months prior to their arrival in the U.S.
The Beatles had landed in the U.S. with a huge splash in February 1964, officially setting off the far-reaching 1960's British Invasion of the American music industry. The girls in America already had their voices primed to scream, and the Beatles were asked about it immediately when they landed in New York:
Q: Are you a little embarrassed by the lunacy you cause?
John Lennon: No, it's great.
Paul McCartney: No.
Ringo Starr: Marvelous.
George Harrison: We love it.
John: We like lunatics.
Q: You're in favor of lunacy?
The Beatles: Yeah.
John: It's healthy.
The Stones arrived right on their heels a few months later, hoping to cash in on the lunacy. Taking cues from their predecessors, they arranged in the standard Beatles format with Mick, Keith, bassist Bill Wyman, and guitarist Bob Jones lined up in front, with drummer Charlie Watts chilling on a pedestal in back.
The Rolling Stones...
...and the Beatles. Look familiar?
When the Beatles first appeared on Ed Sullivan in that February, they were watched by more than 70 million people -- 40% of the U.S. population. More than 50,000 requests were made for the 700 seats in Ed Sullivan Theater. In comparison, despite their attempt to copy the look and layout of the Beatles' live performances, the Rolling Stones' U.S. reception was bleak. In his book reflecting on his years with the band, bassist Bill Wyman wrote that that first U.S. tour was "disastrous" because "[w]hen we arrived, we didn't have a hit record [in the U.S.] or anything going for us." Their reason for concern can be seen in their first U.S. TV appearance, before Ed Sullivan, on Dean Martin's Hollywood Palace. Mr. Martin's introduction was even less enthusiastic than Ed Sullivan's: "And now, something for the youngsters, five singing boys from England who sold a lot of albiums--albums--called the Rolling Stones. I've been rolled when I was stoned myself. I don't know what they're singing about, but here they are at." No, really, that's what he said, look:
After the Stones finished their one-minute diddy, Dean Martin dug in again, comparing them unfavorably to the Beatles and begging the television audience to return after the commercial break because "You wouldn't leave me here alone with the Rolling Stones, would you?" Harsh.
Fast foward to that October, to their seemingly successful appearance on Ed Sullivan -- did you hear those girls screaming? But Ed wasn't amused by the "pandemonium," Wyman says in his book, and he banned the Stones from performing on the show again. The girls would just not stop screaming. But despite Ed's threat, they appeared on the show several more times throughout the years, enough to support a montage:
During one appearance in 1967, the show forced the band to change some song lyrics ("Let's Spend the Night Together" became "Let's Spend Some Time Together"). Jagger agreed but was annoyed when the producers kept reminding him of the lyric change during rehearsal. During the performance, you can see him rolling his eyes over the new chorus. You can also see how the band has changed in just a few short years, with Jagger stepping out front and gesticulating wildly with both his arms and his legs while the rest of the band stays chastely in back.
Legend has that in protest of the lyric change, the Stones left the stage after the song, changed into Nazi uniforms with swastikas, and retook the stage, enraging Sullivan and leading him to again ban the band from the show. That threat didn't stick either; they appeared twice more, the last time in 1969. So what's the lesson here? What Ed Sullivan says doesn't necessarily go, I guess. It also underscores the strategy of Rolling Stones manager Andrew Oldham, who was only 20 years old in 1964 but had already worked on publicity for the Beatles' U.S. tour. He decided early on that the Rolling Stones would need to take a different tact than the Beatles to find success in the U.S., so they were packaged as the bad boys of rock and roll, teasing screaming hoards of girls with marketing slogans like, "Would you let your daughter marry a Rolling Stone?" posted over photos of an unsmiling band.
The Stones' first album cover. Sultry.
It worked. The following year, in 1965, the Rolling Stones released their second LP, which charted at number 1 in the U.K. and number 5 in the U.S. The rest, you might say, is history.
Remember how most of the Rolling Stones' early music was covers? That goes for this song too. "Time is On My Side" was written in 1963 by a guy named Jerry Ragovoy (pseudonym: Norman Meade). It was written for jazz trombonist Kai Winding and His Orchestra, and their version was released in October 1963, a year before the Stones performed it on Ed Sullivan. The original track featured much more limited lyrics (Meade couldn't think of anything more to write than the trademark "Time is on my side" and "You'll come running back.") To fill out the track around the jazz trombone melody, back-up singers were brought in, including 23-year-old Dionne Warwick, who was a month from releasing her fourth single, "Anyone Who Had a Heart," which would become her first top-10 pop hit. While she was waiting for the world to notice her, though, she must have had some extra time hanging around the studio, so she and her sister Dee Dee and another singer named Cissy Houston (who would later bear a child named Whitney) lent background vocals to Kai Winding's original release of "Time is On My Side." Hear it here:
The ladies lace a hearty gospel backing vocal with Winding's brassy trombone blues. It's a great track, but it was just a few months before someone else decided they could do better.
Enter singer Irma Thomas, who in early 1964 recorded a cover of the song as the B-side to her single "Anyone Who Knows What Love Is (Will Understand)." (It seems that in their early singles, both Dionne and Irma were willing to address anyone who would listen.) I couldn't find a video with Irma's original recording, but here's Irma with Bonnie Raitt in 1992:
Note that Bonnie introduced Irma by reclaiming some of her lost
glory: "[She is] one of the real national treasures of rhythm and blues, and we
asked her to join us to sing this song she recorded back in 1965 --
before the Rolling Stones did it, I might add!" While Bonnie is correct
that Irma's version hit airwaves a few months before the Stones', she's a year off. It was actually 1964. Still, the Rolling Stones and their hoards of screaming girls stole the thunder from all who came before, and most people remember this song as a Stones classic.
The band performed the song consistently throughout their long (and still unfinished) career, and they played it on tour often, including at the Hampton Coliseum in 1981, in a video that gives some idea of how much the performance philosophy of the band changed over the years -- and of how weird Mick Jagger has grown. (To be fair, he was probably always weird, and those early performances were his attempt to fit into a music scene that rewarded guys in suits with skinny ties.)
This year marks the band's 50th anniversary, and as such there is of course speculation and rumors of a reunion, a new tour in 2012. Whether or not you agree with Sam Cutler in 1969 that the Stones are the world's "greatest" rock band, there doesn't seem to be much doubt that time has pretty much always been on their side.
Kicking off the month of February is guest blogger Juke Box Hero with a philosophical meditation on this 2003 release by Radiohead.
Despite the fact that they keep putting out new records, it’s hard to find any original words to discuss the electro-rock legends known as Radiohead. Other than, perhaps, that they might have the most kick-ass use for a 7/8 time signature in musical history (aside from the instrumental in Rush’s "Tom Sawyer"). But I’m sure someone’s already made a similar assessment.
That’s the technical frame, anyway, in which our friends at Wikipedia believe Radiohead vocalist Thom Yorke
chose to open "2 + 2 = 5." The unusual, uneven rhythm gives the listener a bit of an off-kilter feeling, as if the sole of one shoe was worn down a quarter inch from the other.
There’s an elusive attractiveness in that quality – you can’t dance to it right away, you
might have difficulty even following it mentally, but you’re intrigued, engaged, or at least
irritated enough to appreciate the subsequent rhythmic shift.
One thing that’s great about this rock song is that you don’t have time to over-analyze
what’s happening before getting whisked away to somewhere new. The ‘B section’ is
more of a glorified bridge, and I mean that; it’s an incredible couple of transition bars
building enormous energy that’s downright mystical. Forget Justin Vernon, Ben Howard,
JV McMorrow; Yorke does moody falsetto better than anybody (OK, it may be a toss-up
with Prince). Somehow Radiohead manages to sting and massage the eardrums in a matter of bars,
going from razor-sharp to velvety-smooth on a dime.
And as the magical bridge foretold, something violent and beautiful erupts in the ‘C
section.’ Yorke’s voice flashes maniacally over revved-up power chords like the beam-lights that must’ve caused epileptic seizures in hundreds of people in this audience. It looked pretty cool onscreen, though.
When Yorke and co. abruptly decide at three and a half minutes that there's been enough savage
strumming, synth soaring, and vocal vaulting for one song, we’re left hanging, perhaps
pondering the group’s control over us. More? Shouldn’t there be some delicious
repetition of the ‘C’ and ‘D’ sections? Everything was going fine. Don’t we deserve
more?
Good, that means they’re getting in your head, getting a rise out of you. And that’s not
to say these guys are terribly high-concept, artistic purity martyrs. The risk-taking and
boundary-pushing of Radiohead’s full catalogue…well, no one would know or care
about it if they didn’t make just stellar music with memorable elements that appeal to a
broad audience. But I love their unusual rhythms, the dramatic shifts: the
reminders – both melodically and lyrically – to question norms, to be critical.
This song’s title, a direct reference to the dystopian George Orwell classic "1984," helps convey that
sentiment – that the lack of an active conscience helps undo logic, as Orwell's characters discover – but in the context of a brilliant piece of music, I think it also has the effect of implying that logic
and rules aren’t always important: At first, the world may not add up to what it’s supposed
to, but if you keep listening to the song, that stops mattering and you just enjoy the
uneven ride for what it is.
