That's My Dad. |
Whenever I believe something is fantastic by any means, I instinctively subtitle it as "That's My Dad", since dads are a given synonym for fantastic. Albeit not every father is great, on this website we'll live in our fantasies where everyone's dad goes fishing with you, takes you to strip clubs, concerts and manages to impress your friends with his 96' Impala. That's My Dad: A collection of all things considered, neglected and popularized. |
Father John Misty - Fear Fun
If one could envision what a successful Fleet Foxes side project would sound like, they’d have Father John Misty’s (J. Tillman) “Fear Fun” pinned down. Fortunately, the Fleet Foxes drummer offers something sweeter, more epigrammatic than anticipated. With lyrics that’ll pierce through your heart and unshakably linger in your thoughts, songs about existential sadnesses and dreamy musings of love, “Fear Fun” is an irresistibly candid, under-stated and quaint folk rock LP worth keeping you company through quiet mornings and lonely nights. (8/10)
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John Mayer - Born and Raised
The mere idea of John Mayer doing a country based album provokes gag reflexes. Alas, for old times sake, the acclaimed singer-songwriter owns enough fuel in his name to allow him for another go around.
After a tremendously banal 4th album, “Battle Studies”, an inescapably gossip mongering monster and a corrosive superstar ego shadowing Mayer’s tail, his time bomb of a career was inevitably destined for a blue screen crash. The results marks with Mayer exiling himself to middle-of-nowhere, Montana, hidden away from all the ‘oh so terrible’ aspects of modern life and rekindling with his long lost self. Cue the sympathy soundboard. From this self-induced separation were the seeds planted of an expected new album; an album that’ll be advertised as “intimate”, “raw” and “unprecedented”, as if these labels are expected to bewilder listeners into hopping on the hype train.
The fact of the matter is, any mainstream artist that isn’t walking propaganda or made more than two albums succumbs to the self-indulgent album; better known as the album “an artist makes for themselves”. And usually they suck. Sometimes it’s a last resort defense to veiling a poor album, or sometimes, it’s the truth. More often than so, these are the blemishes in a successful musician discography: they’re either shrugged off or the last nail in the coffin.
Here’s the thing with John Mayer. In the past eleven years since his debut “Room for Squares”, Mayer indulges in any non-offensive, radio-friendly genre and uses advanced musicianship technique as a cover. He takes major risks by relying strictly on music theory, letting his recklessly youthful personality run amok his music. In a sense, Mayer was mainstream rock’s Will Hunting throughout the ’00s.
Flash-forward to today on his fifth LP: “Born and Raised”, the ultimate foil to Mayer’s blueprint. Until now, Mayer got away with “being clever” with his lyrical substance, but now that overeager edge ended up consuming his personal image, he’s given up on his core appeal. Not to mention, in the process of Mayer cutting back and putting an album out there “for himself”, he let go of his nimble grip on music composition, sacrificing creativity with room for ingenuous, and unfortunately, tasteless, hopelessly insipid personal musings.
It’s not even the added country-inspired instrumentation, which work in benefit for the album, but the dreadfully constructed lyricism. Mayer took after rapper Kanye West’s ambitious lyrical approach on “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy” where the context of his personal life took center stage, offering theatrically massive emotional results. Unfortunately, Mayer bites the dust by spawning nearly every song-writing weakness in the book, only proving how Kanye’s challenging lyrical risks succeeded for his work.
“Born and Raised” is an album that just cut Mayer’s tightrope in half. Not only does it place Mayer at his most vulnerable, creative-less and indulgent on his career map, but places him higher on people mainstream America wants to forget. It’s the nature of the game Mayer plays and making such a move even eliminates room for a second redemption. (4/10)
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Jack White - Blunderbuss
After building three bands from scratch to fame and single-handedly reviving blues rock in a modern age, Jack White is faced with taking the biggest risk of his career: going solo. This shift in creative control has been taken full advantage of, as White averts from his end-to-end standard ass-kicking, nail-biting hard rock balladry. Sure, the track “Sixteen Saltines” follows suit but unlike much of The White Stripes’ lyricism, “Sixteen Saltines” is one of the funniest piece White has written in contrast to his compositions. The rest of “Blunderbuss” ranges heavily, featuring elements of folk and jazz and a variety of instruments you’d never associate with a Jack White label. White’s efforts to branch out and experiment with a larger palette deserves much credit, yet, “Blunderbuss” won’t achieve heavy rotation status like “Elephant” or a “Sea of Cowards” would. He still throws his lyrical hooks, writes undeniably catchy tunes and rocks the hell out of your headphones when he wants to; but for those so used to White’s killer one-two punch routine, you might get thrown off when he starts dancing around the ring. (7/10)
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Bruce Springsteen - Wrecking Ball
At age 62, Bruce Springsteen is back with another installment of his high-voltage American spirit on his 17th album: Wrecking Ball. And while Springsteen’s efforts, both as a musician and storyteller, come off stronger than ever, Wrecking Ball remains feeling just like the label says: another installment. As per usual, Springsteen soars with his brave, political arena-sized rock jams. His quieter moments on the album shine a brighter light on his gorgeous song-writing methods and unforgettable spirit of nostalgia. And he proudly embraces all traditional American music influences, from country to hip-hop, and wears them like an array of badges on a Boys Scout uniform. Springsteen’s pride and messages are bolder than ever, yet a taint of the all-too-similar ‘meat and potatoes’ formula in this otherwise socially austere record leaves much to be desired. (6/10)
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The 5 Albums that Changed My Life during 7 Days in New York City
1. A Tribe Called Quest - The Low End Theory
Just being in the Bronx.
2. Jay-Z - The Blueprint
Sight-seeing in the Fashion District.
3. The Pharcyde - Bizarre Ride II the Pharcyde
Being hip in lower Manhattan.
4. Young the Giant - Young the Giant
Riding the subway, feeling part of something.
5. Charles Mingus - The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady
Walking alone in the nightlife.
Cloud Nothings - Attack On Memory
A gorgeously recorded and infectiously energetic work of alternative/post-hardcore with a certain level of excitement that’d fit being listened to during a cross country summer road trip. (8/10)
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The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo Soundtrack -
Soul is to Aretha Franklin as horror is to Trent Reznor, front-man of Nine Inch Nails. Him and Atticus Ross tag team it up with transgressive director David Fincher to invent an ambient, eerie and profoundly novel soundtrack to a film of the same characteristics. While it certainly interacts less with the film unlike their previous and more celebrated soundtrack for The Social Network, Reznor and Ross showcase their devious style and still create an exceptional film accompaniment. Not to mention a James Bond theme song-esque cover of Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song, featuring Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s; a standout track that feels just as urgent, sexy and dirty as the film. Don’t expect a comfortable listen as this album spans three hours of abstract and minimalist thematic music, but for film soundtrack aficionados, it’s a must. (8/10)
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Radiohead’s The King of Limbs -
There were more bands set out to make atmospheric or abstract music this year than ever before, but no one can make music as visceral and captivating as Radiohead. Their 2011 release “The King of Limbs” is no different, one of their most stripped-down, multi-layered and down-right haunting albums to date. It may be Radiohead’s most bare release, but where it lacks in quantity, “The King of Limbs” makes up for it with some of the most eeriest and slickest tracks of the year. Each of the eight songs on this record can surely qualify for anyone’s favorite, from the nightmarish “Bloom” to the dark and mysterious “Lotus Flower.” Maybe that’s the beauty of this record, maybe that’s why “The King of Limbs” has grown so popular so quickly. Listening to it can be like forcing yourself to explore a forest known for monsters; there’s a level of mystique here that can effect anyone differently. Let this album take you on, get to meet the monsters you never knew lived inside you. (8/10)
I blame Judd Apatow and Seth Rogen for Coldplay’s haters.
Save your spite for someone else; Coldplay is our generation’s U2. Where U2 evolved from albums like War, a powerful work of art representing the world’s society from the dawn of the 80’s, Coldplay begun from their emotionally triumphant album Parachutes and their rock masterpiece A Rush of Blood to the Head. On their 5th album, Mylo Xyloto, Coldplay has allowed zero room for scrutiny and have produced a dauntingly colorful and tight record, delivered with the same meticulous musicianship that makes a Coldplay release what it is.
To me, Chris Martin must have been a historian and a storyteller for kids in a past lifetime. After Parachutes, each release from Coldplay takes on this really specific mood from the future. With X&Y, there was this idea of a self-reflective, morose near future for all of us. With Viva la Vida, we see classical styles clash with futuristic ones and how, as musicians, Coldplay idolized lost generations from the 1800’s and appreciated them in a post-modern setting. In Mylo Xyloto, we’re drowned into a surrealist Alice in Wonderland-esque fantasy future to hide ourselves away from our problems. It’s almost as if Coldplay addresses American society’s sub-conscious desires and aims to fulfill them. They know when to make music for people to deal with their own fears with the world and when to give something to personally ponder over and relate to. In this sense, Coldplay is very much a pop artist. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.
Mylo Xyloto is one of 2011’s finest albums. I sincerely will not be personally attached to it, but I expect Coldplay fans to be. It’s a gorgeously produced album with more ambition than anything out of the pop or rock industry in quite a while.
This album was my mom. (9/10)
Guess who’s back and decided to bring along the minivan?
The Black Keys are a revival blues rock group who’ve consistently grown in popularity and confidence throughout their decade-long career. They’ve been going head-to-head with The White Stripes since 2001 and with the release of El Camino, The Black Keys have deemed themselves the victor (in terms of longevity, of course.)
From the audience’s point to view, it was a challenge to follow up their previous album Brothers; an album regarded their best and most popular from critics and fans alike. The Black Keys live within this singular sonic concept of retro-infused rock that goes “oomph” and Brothers was that idea crafted to perfection. So where do you go when there’s nothing more to accomplish? You get comfortable and enjoy what you have; that’s exactly what we get on El Camino. A relatively-fresh echo of what The Black Keys are used to putting out, just with more comfort and ease in their musicianship.
For many, El Camino will quench the fix for any hard-rock grooves desired for the year with just a small dash of variety. The trick is to not scrutinize this album, seriously. This release wasn’t designed for an in-depth analysis and a pop culture thesis to be written on it. The songs are quick, enticing and catchy; that’s it. The drum and guitar duo haven’t toned the jams down in the slightest and the tones these guys use are still as sexy as they were on Brothers. If anything, the lyricism on El Camino has significantly digressed into a cheesy and lazy mess. As much as one as hold onto their indifferences, the lyricism feels all too deliberate; reminding us to stop analyzing, once again, and just dance your troubles out.
Great cuts from the album include Lonely Boy, an infectiously charming jam dying to be put in a comic heist film. Dead and Gone, one of lead singer Dan Auerbach’s catchiest and soulful vocal performances. Also, Little Black Submarines, a two-faced composition that’ll catch any Black Keys’ fan’s attention.
It’s not easy to work out of a decade’s work and style, so beware. The Black Keys are here to slap another serving of pudding on your elementary school lunch tray, whether you like it or not. And you can’t complain, because lunch-ladies never care about what you think anyways.
This album was my uncle. (7/10)
There couldn’t be anything more challenging to review in this indie rock generation than a Wilco album. The Whole Love is a fantastic return to Wilco’s much-celebrated experimental approach to music. Having dabbled in their rudimentary styles with previous albums (Wilco (The Album), Sky Blue Sky), Wilco’s moved on from the simplistic and are back to their dauntingly massive range that made Yankee Hotel Foxtrot the magnum-opus the independent music industry raved about for years. Watch Wilco drown out the basics and drench your senses in atmosphere: this is The Whole Love. The Whole Love feels like a sincere revisitation to Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. An album that, in 2003, dared to take on all classic modern influences and succeeded to make it all sound bizarrely original. The album sets its gaze on other influences and lets their dramatic sonic range explode and ring in your ears. There is an exorbitant quantity of worldliness and an untamed quality of its sonic presence. Wilco shifts gears many times with what sound they desire to achieve and every song and mode the album goes through is done with audacity. The opening song Art of Almost, feels like a telling of some sort of cerebral and physical war story illustrated with electronic elements which produce a texture that couldn’t be explained properly. Like brushing your hand over a wicker chair at a young age, the feeling is something unidentifiable and interesting. And that’s how this whole album plays on you. With a determined level of power and ‘oomph’ from the band dedicated to each sonic direction taken, if taken all at once, this is one shape-shifting work of clever abstract art. Everything from psychedelic rock to alt-country to pop, when these guys tackle an idea, there is no hesitation. It hasn’t been this long since Wilco’s come off as such creative badasses. Way to kick the “Dad-Rock” label to the curb, guys. Thank you for surprising us with this gem. This album was my dad.
An old personal favorite. Review prescribed by request.
Mayer Hawthorne’s debut album is wholly essential. A Strange Arrangement sets out to re-live the classic essences of old-school R&B and Soul that lives within the heart of Detroit. His talent beams through many fields: his sharp and atmospherically conscious production skills and as a musician, Hawthorne blissfully impresses his audience with nearly every instrument he touches and lets that modestly show itself off on his compositions. A Strange Arrangement is a wholesome collection of pitch-perfect sonic snapshots of the flavorful R&B culture and the crisp idealization of love that comes with it.
As an artist, Hawthorne has two strong qualities going for him that drives his work all the way home: inspiration and his lovely retro sense of class. His music is derived from this very simplistic and kind blend; it’s terrifically accessible and equally pleasant. I call this album essential for its straight-forward approach in recreating the core elements of R&B. The fuzzy and constant beats and heavily retro accented chord progressions will take you to a place any hipster with the right heart would delightfully fetishize over endlessly.
My only issue with A Strange Arrangement is the approach to its songwriting. The lyricism ranges as being one-dimensionally simplistic to unnecessarily serious to surprisingly artistic. Hawthorne is a bit too young to take himself so seriously, a fact which conclusively brings uneven results. When he keeps things plain, it manages to compliment his signature style of compositions. However, the standout track here is Green Eyed Love, which shows a much deeper, mature and successfully dynamic and developed side of Hawthorne. Hopefully a promising foreshadow to new directions desired to be taken. Who knows.
If you crave a classy, retro-loving R&B jam, what in God’s name are you waiting for? Get yourself acquainted to this guy.
This album is certainly my dad.