First off, apologies for not coming through with a post-Thanksgiving Sunday Morning Session as promised.  It was ready, and I was ready.  And it is a good one.  But, I was sidetracked.  Such is life with a newborn.  For the half dozen of you who tune in, I will make it up to you.    

Release Date: October 24, 2011
Label: Anti-

Tom Waits can be intimidating.  I mean, his shit is dense.  Sometimes listening to a Waits album is like reading a confusing but satisfying book.  You don't fully understand the message, but it's been intentionally left open so you can form your own individual impressions.  Art that's meant to allow for participation from the observer.  

Bad As Me is no exception and it continues Waits' explorations of the bitter and the sweet, though rarely at the same time.  The angry turns range from the sad and matter-of-fact in "Face to the Highway" to the jittery accusations in the title track "Bad as Me".  "Talking at the Same Time" has the feeling of creepy paranoia that's tough to describe (Waitsian?).  "Kiss Me" is the great smoky noirish piano bar tune that Waits can drop on you at any time.  On the sunnier side of the street, "Back in the Crowd" is the best Roy Orbison cover you'll hear this year.  "Satisfied" is an aggressive declaration of Wait's pre-death intentions.  Or maybe it's just a tongue-in-cheek rocker.  

Look, I'm not going to pretend to understand the exact message that Waits is trying to convey with Bad As Me, but I don't think that's the idea with this record or TW in general.  Again, we'll leave that to dickheads like Rob Sheffield, who are too caught up in themselves to admit that maybe something isn't meant to be perfectly understood.  

I will say that Waits has been consistently interesting for over 30 years and shows no signs of slowing down.  Really the only person you can compare him to is Bob Dylan.  And you probably won't hear any greater compliment in this humble column.

Release Date: October 11, 2011
Label: Capitol

There's a My Morning Jacket song that has nothing to do with Ryan Adams.  I suppose you could say that no MMJ songs have anything to with Ryan Adams, but that's not the point.  The MMJ lyric I have in mind is, "they told me not to smoke drugs, but I didn't listen...I guess I just had to get it outta my system".  Most people, I think, can relate to that.  Adams is sober now, and has been for his past few records.  But that's not the point either.  

When you get right down to it, Ryan Adams has always been capable of knocking your socks off with a great song.  But he's also almost always had a few head-scratchers on each record (there are a few early exceptions - see Heartbreaker; see also Gold).  Even some of his more enjoyable stuff with his erstwhile backing band The Cardinals was more or less Grateful Dead American Beauty covers.  The point of this endless set-up diatribe is that Ashes & Fire finally marries that clarity that comes with sobriety to the focus of a consistently great original songwriter.  Which is to say that it's a really good country-rock record with flashes of brilliance that's long overdue.

Adams has always been better when he's understated, and he seems to have dialed himself back a bit intentionally for this one.  The title track "Ashes & Fire" is the high point and is one of the best country songs you'll hear this year.  When he belts lyrics like "the wind was suddenly sweeter than Roosevelt pines / the windows broke out and the cigarette smoke drifted by" over open chords and those great country drums, you can't help but smile.  "Invisible Riverside" is a soulful wanderer's tune that dances in and out of jamband territory (in a good way).  "Dirty Rain" sounds a little bit like he's striving for a polished Big Pink sound.

For a relatively young guy, Adams has put out 13 records and seems to have put a lot of miles on an already weary soul.  It hasn't always been great.  But maybe he just had to get all of that out of his system.  If Ashes & Fire is the shape of things to come, it'll all be worth it. 

Release Date: October 11, 2011
Label: Anti-

Life's pretty good in the information age.  You can play online blackjack, download tunes and select your adult content for the day (if you're into that sort of thing) - all at once.  It's pretty fantastic.  But it can also be stressful and exhausting.  It's gotten to the point where we feel inadequate if we're behind the curve in any way.  No matter how hard you try, it's still impossible to know everything.  Even today.

Admittedly, I have almost completely missed the boat on Joe Henry.  Reverie is the first album of his that I've spent any time with, and man do I feel stupid.  That said, I have no frame of reference of how this record fits into what seems like a long and successful run.  I'm definitely reminded of some of the more accessible Tom Waits records - folk, jazz and blues are all part of the sound.  Like Waits, Henry doesn't exactly come at his songs with a sunny perspective.  There's not an overabundance of hope here.  And like all great modern American music, Henry adds just enough dissonance to keep you uncomfortable.  

It's difficult to single out tracks, because the album sounds like a complete thought (at least to me) - cryptic reflections on a life that Henry's not particularly proud of.  The stoned-blues guilt of "Sticks & Stones".  The sparse piano and mantra-like lyrics ("...I gave away what never was mine...") of "Strung".  The light-hearted madness of "Grand Street" ("...he spoke to himself, right out loud...").  The sad accusations of "Deathbed Versions" ("...how do you like your blue-eyed boy?").  The pre-death promises of "Eyes Out for You".  All chapters in a book as opposed to a collection of singles.                     

David Fricke (the only good writer left at Rolling Stone) once said something to the effect of, "you have to allow yourself the time" to get what you need out of a good record.  Reverie is that kind of album.  And it is definitely a good album.  It won't knock your socks off right away.  But it will if you're patient.  Not exactly tailor-made for the information age, but that's part of its charm.   
  
         

mp3: Sticks & Stones 

Release Date: October 24, 2011
Label: Partisan

“Give me a spark, you’ll get an atom bomb!  Give me some pills and I can’t stand up!”  That's the kind of attitude I want in my rock & roll.  Right there.  As much I love 'indie', sometimes it's too sensitive.  Too touchy-feely.  Being well-read shouldn't be a requirement for indie-rock street cred.  A little swagger is OK after all for Christ's sake.  I'm looking at you Andrew Bird.  Anyway, as lead singer John McCauley boozily croaks those lines in the opening track of Divine Providence, you realize that this record is a little different.  

It’s not that Deer Tick is suddenly raucous - they’ve always been wired live.  But where the band seemed a little guilty and blue about it before, they’re not anymore.  Gone for now are the days where Deer Tick and McCauley look inward by churning out records full of drunken country ballads.  After three albums mostly in the same vein…this is that record in a band’s trajectory where they stretch out, poke their heads out of their comfort zone, and see what sticks. 

Drunken barroom pianos, spit-shined electric guitar production and even a less-raspy croon out of McCauley all contribute to the hard left.  “Funny Word” and “Main Street” sound like tracks left on the cutting floor of the loft from early Wilco records.  “Now It’s Your Turn” is a Use Your Illusion-era Guns ‘n Roses style ballad.  Hell, “Let’s All Go To The Bar” sounds like the angry, raging bastard child from a Johnny Ramone bender.

Sometimes a band tries too hard to sound different – but that’s not exactly the case here.  The ‘old’ Deer Tick tunes on this record fit well with the ‘new’ songs and it doesn’t seem forced.  Just honest.  And unexpected.  And a little brave.  Divine Providence is proof that the party can come after the hangover.  A band that's decided to kick a little ass in a different way. 


mp3: Let's All Go To The Bar

Release Date: Oct. 18, 2011
Label: Domino

First off, tip of the cap to Wino-Strut for the initial intro this band.  A long time ago in a galaxy far away he contracted LC for a review of Real Estate’s first album.  I think it received something like 3 million hits, but I can’t confirm that figure at this time.

In any event, Real Estate’s second album Days is another relaxed and solid record by a band with a new record contract from Domino (Four Tet; Animal Collective).  Interesting in spots, but more like a Volume 2 than anything else.  Not that that is a bad thing necessarily.  Nor is that to say that they sound like they have dialed back on the painkillers.  

“It’s Real” is definitely a highlight – a newer type of song that wouldn’t be completely out of place on a Vampire Weekend album.  “All the Same” also jumps out as a tune that’s moving a bit of a different direction – sparkling Beatlesish guitars swirling downward into the sleepy jam that ultimately closes the record.  An overall good album with glimpses of a possible great one on the horizon.  Real Estate is a band to put on the watch list, even if they keep churning out these types of records.  

Worth checking out at The Sunset Temple on 11/13.  

I’m mostly curious to see what will happen to their sound if they change their drug of choice.  To speed, for example.  Stay tuned. 


mp3: It's Real

Release Date: January 26, 2010
Label: Sub Pop

There’s been a lot of talk about the new Beach House record, Teen Dream.  Blogs, of which this is one I suppose, have clearly been pretty effing excited about this effort.  I’m not sure what to say about it, except for that I listened to it for the first time in the afternoon.  The sun was setting, and the light in my apartment was dwindling in that hazy winter way the sun sets in Los Angeles.  It seemed like the right time to listen to what I expected Teen Dream to be.   

Then I had a beer.  And another one.  And suddenly I realized that I had stopped thinking about all of the bullshit that was weighing heavily on me minutes before, and that seemed good.  Even the cat stopped running around and sat in one place for awhile.  That was also better.  As the sun gradually retreated and Beach House’s woozy pop shimmer chugged along, everything seemed to suck a lot less.  Not every band, or record for that matter, has the ability to do that – and I guess that’s not always the goal.  But if you’ve read this far and this sounds like the sort of thing that might be in your wheelhouse, you should probably listen to the record.

Teen Dream goes down easy.  It somehow allows you to cut to the core of what’s important.  It even forces animals to chill the fuck out, evidently.  On one hand, it doesn’t seem that tough to make an escapist album.  Quick and simple daydreams you can snap out of when the needle’s finally scratching on the label after the last track is done.  But with this one, I think I’m always going to be reminded of that hazy, generally optimistic afternoon with every subsequent listen.  Etched in my brain.  How many records make that kind of impression?

mp3: Norway

mp3: Take Care

Also, for some downloadable tunes, check out Beach House’s Daytrotter session here.

It was never in doubt.  Lightweight Contender and Freshface continue to be a lethal combination – check out my review of Spoon’s new record Transference here (and below).

Stick and move, stick and move...

Release Date: January 19, 2010
Label: Merge

We all have different aspects to our selves.  We want to be everywhere and we want to be everything – and it all has to be now.  Some of us are diagnosed schizophrenics and some of us are just better at putting up the normal, balanced front.  Better at maintaining appearances, controlling the undercurrent.  The point is, we all have both the burden and the luxury to wade through the competing urges and be who we want to be, but that idea’s a moving target.  

You can run long distances in the morning and smoke a pack of Camel filters the same night.  The same person can sling mortgage-backed securities for AIG and volunteer at the local homeless shelter.  It’s part of the human condition.  Even if you’re not exactly human – say you’re Satan for example – I gotta believe this dynamic is the same.  You spend your days instigating some motherfucking chaos and generally championing the satanic cause.  And when Lucifer goes about his day, we can all agree that metal is what’s blasting in the headphones of the beast. 

But when the Devil’s at the end of a long day being…well, evil, he probably wants to chill out before hitting the sack.  And when he does, he might chill out to an album like Spoon’s new record Transference.  It’s a downshift from Slayer.  It’s fractured but it’s melodic.  It’s mildly dark and mysterious.  Tunes like “Who Makes Your Money” attack with echoed chanting and creepy synths until you drop what you’re doing and just listen.  “I Saw The Light” blasts jangly guitars into the momentum of a midnight instrumental section that’s probably the highlight of the whole fucking record.   

For all the shadows and brooding, though, Transference does jump on the offensive with a few straight-ahead rockers like “The Mystery Zone” and “Trouble Comes Running”.  Look, there are a lot of things going on with this record and there’s a lot you can say about Spoon as a band.  We’ll leave that sort of thing to that asshole Rob Sheffield.  I will say that one of the interesting things about this record is that the songs on it seem to be mostly about death and love – and it doesn’t sound like Spoon really differentiates between the two in any kind of logical way.

Transference as a record isn’t altogether a separate product from some of Spoon’s previous efforts, but it is a little different.  It’s a little better at putting you in that strange, meditative mood that isn’t exactly happy.  It sounds like the feeling you get when you’re confused about being melancholy.  Which is the frame of mind Satan might want to be in at 3 in the morning after a hard day’s work.

You can’t hold a good man down and the unstoppable prose of Lightweight Contender can’t be held to one website. 

Check out my review of Real Estate’s self-titled record on Freshface here (and below)!  Also poke around the site and enjoy – created by two of the best mustaches you’ve ever seen, David Phillips and Warren Riker. 

Release Date: November 17, 2009
Label: Woodsist

It’s been a tough year.  A really tough year.  The economy is in shambles.  We’re down and we’re out.  What’s worse, the problems and mistakes of other people are complicating our problems and making them more oppressive.  For the first time, the feeling of desperation and helplessness that comes with a bad run seems like it’s shared.  It’s not subjective anymore – it’s fucking tangible and you can feel it.  Every asshole you bump into seems to be carrying a weight that’s 10 to 20 pounds heavier than it was a few months ago.

It’s gonna be OK, though.  Being in this shit parade together means that when we do pull through, we’ll have to do it together.  Hopefully we’ll be better off.  In the meantime, though, little escapist respites from this poisonous reality will have to continue to remind us of what it’s like when the sun is out.  Real Estate’s self-titled debut record can be one of those little pretty escapes, if you allow yourself to soak it up.  They sing about walking on the Pensacola Beach and play sparse catchy melodies that swim in your head in place of the problems you’ve inherited, temporarily clearing the congestion.

This quartet of catchy bastards apparently hails from New Jersey and are Paul McCartney fans, but it’s pretty tough to pin down a singular geography or influence from the album.  Skeletal guitars that sound like they’ve been recorded at the end of a tunnel, mantra-type vocals that play the part of just another instrument and the light chug of understated drums are all part of Real Estate’s attempt to help you forget (if only for 45 minutes).  There are Beach Boyish dreamy harmonies and Simon & Garfunkel-inspired choruses on “Snow Days”.  “Suburban Beverage” builds from a light introduction to a druggy Velvets momentum, and the guitar in “Let’s Rock The Beach” sounds a little like a more structured, happier version of “The End” (no one is killed or raped at the end, though, as far as I can tell).  Tunes like “Pool Swimmers” and “Suburban Dogs” sound a little like a soundtrack to a drunken dream that anyone in My Morning Jacket or Band of Horses might have.

Here’s the thing - Real Estate is a really just a good, easy record to listen to.  Which isn’t to say that it’s boring.  It’s honest and it’s interesting enough to take your mind off of whatever shit is occupying it.  If you’re lucky you may even come out of the listen feeling a little better.  If nothing else, this is a good first record from what seems like is a pretty good band and this is all a direct product of Jersey.  See?  Anything can happen and Real Estate might help us turn the corner with their mellow psychedelia.  If that doesn’t give you hope you’re in for a pretty depressing holiday.  


mp3: Suburban Beverage

Welcome to Lightweight Contender!  I will try not to waste too much of your time.  Unless that's why you're here, of course.  In that instance we'll try to get all of your time wasted together.

Just to get this thing off the ground, I figured I'd just give some quick thoughts on the album that I happen to be listening to on this, the inauguration day of what's trying to be a music blog.  Seems just right that the first album that's talked about is titled Embryonic...

Release Date: October 9, 2009
Label: Warner Bros.

Fractured, disjointed and barely treading on the fringes of something recognizable as rock and roll, this one's weird, even for the Flaming Lips.  This is one of those records that requires you to sit down, dedicate some time and swallow it from front to back. 

Wayne Coyne and company go from spooky lullabyes to drug-addled grooves, and in the end it's pretty tough to decipher where they were going or what they were trying to accomplish.  Everyone (including the Lips) seems to be saying that Embryonic was heavily influenced by Miles Davis's Bitches' Brew, but that comparison didn't jump out of the speakers to me.  "Gemini Syringes" sounds like a lost cut from Dark Side of the Moon, and some of the drum crashes and gentle-heavy guitars remind you of a Physical Graffiti-era Zeppelin interlude.  

One of the interesting things about this record is that it seems to me that 10 people could listen and come away with 10 different impressions.  Oklahoma's favorite sons are strange getting stranger, but this is a ballsy record if nothing else.

Not all records that require an investment are good enough to warrant the time needed to "get it", and it's too early to make the call here.  Like all Lips records though, this one's definitely worth a listen and the initial effort.  I can't tell if they're going for a jazz / rock opus or just plain fucking noodling in the studio, but it doesn't have to matter.  Maybe that's the point?