Listening Journal: Alabama Shakes - Boys & Girls
It’s hard to make soul music sound fresh. Perhaps there are one too many gold-cased 20-disc Time Life compilations in the world. Or maybe there’s just something in the stylistic DNA that tends to make it feel comforting and a little nostalgic. Bloody and visceral, too, but forgiving in ways rock ‘n roll rarely is. With that said, everyone getting excited over Alabama Shakes should really consider giving Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings another shot. Brittany Howard’s voice doesn’t play super nice with the muffly analog sound of these recordings. She sings with such heavy, spastic inflections that some of the detail actually gets lost, turning emotive songs into something resembling a tantrum. Like late-career Jack White (with whom they share a stage) and late-career Black Keys (with whom they undoubtedly share a fan base), Alabama Shakes’ sound doesn’t scan as ‘modern hybrid’ so much as ‘grab-bag of “classic” stuff.’ They’re clearly not art school weirdos and shouldn’t be held to those expectations, but I can’t help asking if the world really needs another record like this. Or, rather, if a record like this deserves the massive audience it’ll surely have. Hey, like what you like and who am I to begrudge people their taste and enthusiasm—I just don’t see what all the fuss is about.
Listening Journal: Rimar - Closer
Turns out chillwave’s smuggled beach margarita can still pack a solid punch when it’s, y’know, about something. Rimar has his own intriguing voice, though, so maybe I’m selling it short. He strikes a great balance between the intensity of his musical atmospheres—this is a record unflinching in its sense of hot, breathy intimacy—and the grounded sensibility of hip-hop beats. The nods to Quiet Storm soul don’t hurt either. In fact, you might call this an underground weirdo’s update on that particular branch of the adult contemporary tree, a sound that understands the language-of-the-heart promises of Sade and Smokey Robinson but takes the liberty of abstracting them much further from common language. Now we get samples and sentence fragments—“Only remember the future,” “We promised to never leave each other,” “I will stay…”—that make sideways sense uttered in the heat of a moment. Stretching out sound and space allows slivers of dark, childish psychedelia to show through, but it’s in the service of the grown-up vulnerability of love. Keep an eye on this guy.
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Listening Journal: The Shins - Port of Morrow
Y’know, under-production hasn’t been a problem for The Shins’ since they were called Flake Music. I wouldn’t mind all the bells and whistles here—hell, I probably wouldn’t even notice ‘em—if there wasn’t this odd sense of deference in the whole affair. All the glassy guitars, synth whooshes, extra percussion, bleeps and bloops, they hit your ears first. This isn’t an issue of misdirected purism. I’m not grousing about some abstract notion of “the song” being overshadowed by extra sounds, I just sense that the very ornamental arrangements have subdued or perhaps taken the place of that certain springiness The Shins used to have. Even “Simple Song,” a great single on its own, flattens out a bit in these environs and few other tracks attempt to match its charisma. Maybe Mercer’s just mellowing out as he ages, but I hear an inversion here: a lack of joy in making music compensated for by making more of it.
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Listening Journal
I have a habit of not pushing myself to hear new releases all the time, waiting around for good records to somehow find their way to my ears, which is not a good way to do things if you want to be an even half-decent critic. So I spent the last couple days playing catch-up on a handful of talked-about albums I’ve been meaning to listen to—some newer than others—taking notes as I went and trying not to get overwhelmed by the glut of new sounds. Here are some short thoughts on them.
Chairlift - Something - I didn’t expect to like this as much as I do. Popular and critical praise aside, there’s been an overabundance of ‘atmospheric,’ 80s indebted electro-pop albums the last few years and I find it increasingly difficult to locate vitality or personality in those sounds. Chairlift can certainly be too ethereal for their own good—and they rely far too heavily on rote, marchy (boring!) 80s drum beats—but when they allow themselves to branch out, like on “Ghost Tonight,” they reveal themselves to be keen, inventive sound sculptors. The melodic strength and cosmopolitan poise of “Frigid Spring,” “Grown Up Blues,” and even the silly “Amanaemonesia” don’t hurt either. Basically, the further Chairlift roam from Drive-soundtrack retro moodiness, the better off they are.
First Aid Kit - The Lion’s Roar - This record should be listed in a Dictionary of Modern Music under O for ‘Omaha.’ These Swedish sisters have Mike Mogis’ country-folk-pop production, a guest verse from Conor Oberst, and those close-knit harmonies that start off pleasant but sour quickly from overuse. Ten songs of dusty strumming filtered through orange afternoon sunlight and wrapped in quavering personal angst makes for an adequately moving record, but it’s far from a revelation. If it had better lyrics it’d be a lost Jenny Lewis album, or add a dash of impetuous pep and it’d scan like Slow Club (in a good way) or She & Him (in a not so good way). Serviceable catnip for Saddle Creek devotees, but I doubt I’ll come back to it much.
Sharon Van Etten - Tramp - A diary full of hard knocks isn’t a prerequisite for making sincere, affecting music (let us never forget it!), but in the case of Sharon Van Etten it sheds a lot of light on what makes her compelling. Tramp’s backstory of her struggle to escape the clutches of a controlling boyfriend has gravitas and fuels some great writing (“Give Out,” “All I Can,” “Ask,” etc.), but you can hear it just as clearly in her voice. She sings like a strong person beaten down into deep weariness—never timorous or fragile, but nervy and exposed. Aaron Dessner’s production wisely mirrors her attitude, with guitars and drums that never get too comfortable in their own spaces, sometimes murmuring in the background behind a thick curtain and other times crowding in so close around her that they simultaneously smother and lift her up.
John Talabot - ƒIN - This may boil down to a personal preference thing. I like the idea of headphone dance music in theory, but in practice I don’t seem to find myself making a lot of time for it. I tend to think of it as something to zone out to, and maybe I’m just too much of a sucker for songs to get deep into it. Some of Talabot’s tracks hew closer to my comfort zones—“Last Land,” “Journeys,” “So Will Be Now…”—but others can feel angular and blocky in a way that distracts my ears. I hear the contemporary steamy ‘tropical’ influences at work, though thankfully they don’t overwhelm the record. There are also smooth, dark, even woozy sides to ƒIN and so far those are the better ones.
Beach Fossils - What a Pleasure EP - A more downcast, melancholy addition to the world of indie surf bands. Beach Fossils have never been exactly brimming with energy or emotion, but here they manage to widen their pale sound while letting the appealingly bleached, morbid qualities of their debut slip through their fingers. The guitars sound fine, but the rhythm section is still too thin and papery, dropping the bottom out from these supposedly-deeper songs and making them plod where their influencers pushed. I realize it’s an EP and probably a stop-gap on the way to the next album, but What a Pleasure demonstrates what it sounds like for a band to not go far enough, in any direction.
Caveman - CoCo Beware - Yeah, I didn’t think Local Natives could get any more snooze-worthy either, but here we are.
