Some Nights - fun.

Cuts Only

If you were expecting a review based on prior predictions, sorry for party rocking. I thought I could squeeze this one in before State Patty's Day. Oh well. fun.

Speaking of, talk about your ironic band names. On Some Nights, the second album in fun.'s catalog, the New-York trio cites the soundtrack of Woody Allen's Manhattan Murder Mystery as the inspiration for a showtune-like introduction in the first song. As it turns out, the band shares more than the same zip code and the musical taste as the renowned Manhattanite.

Lead singer Nate Reuss's lyrics are so needy and neurotic, they would make Allen himself blush. While this is better than lyrics devoid of any feeling, most of the ten tracks focus on heavy emotional nadirs like break-ups, cheating girlfriends, the fear of relationships and the struggle to embrace a metropolitan lifestyle because it's the cool thing to do (just what I can name off the top of my head). Like many groups before it, fun. commits the cardinal sin of overindulgence. A barrage of one after shows the album to be too maudlin to live up to the hype.

At its best times, the album is as grandiose as it's expected. One can hear trace elements of Paul Simon's Graceland, Queen, Maroon 5 and even Kanye West (we'll return to this later) throughout. As a triumphant foreshadowing and killer opener, the song "Some Nights" establishes the theme for the rest of the work — we as human beings are drawn to self-destructive things and the outcomes they produce. Same goes for the ever-pervasive "We Are Young," a love song for the smarmy, 2 a.m. hook-up artist that never gives up and gets lucky with a partner who loses her patience and inhibitions as the young man continues to plead.

Still, Reuss's kvetching is so constant, instead of feeling catharsis, it makes the listeners question how much they complain about trivial things; how much their ids pine for misplaced nostalgia. This feeling rears its head in "Why Am I the One," which deals with the wish to leave the big city behind and return to a child home. Anything to satisfy the desire to feel needed until ennui sets in and one is forced to move on.

Still, most of the music is very well crafted. However, there are also times when fun. steps over the line when taking a chance. On some examples, Reuss pollutes his voice with autotuning in the style of Kanye West's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, and not in a professional way (I'm sure I got some eye-rolls there. Be that way, uncultured swines). In the last track, "Stars," the digital effects quickly spiral out of control as the last chorus progresses ... almost to the point of where one thinks the autotune is actually autotuning itself.

In my opinion, fun. should seek to continue its songwriting direction in the mode of "All Alone," a poppy number about debating to approach an attractive girl from afar. Timid: sure. Still, it's a little less self-loathing than some of the other bungles. Common, fellas. You guys are at the top of the charts for God's sake. I'm sure that will get you a few friends.

Still, even though the masochistic rebukes are simply put too melodramatic at times, there are some items of note on Some Nights. However, approaching this one without a sense of wry suspicion will only have you question where all the fun went. Also, Mr. Allen, we've found your next screenplay.

For Your Consideration - "Some Nights," "We Are Young," "All Alone."

For Next Time - Meh. I got a day or two. Let me think about it.

Reign of Terror - Sleigh Bells

Noteworthy

In its second album, Reign of Terror, Brooklyn duo Sleigh Bells unleashes a sonic onslaught in one of the most anticipated releases of early 2012. However, if you're looking for an album of in-your-face dance romps that made the band famous, you may be disappointed; much of the work, although more mature, sounds rather staid compared to its last effort.

In Treats, Sleigh Bells's first that was released in 2010, guitarist-producer Derek E. Miller pushed distortion levels to an extreme levels. When accompanied by the rah-rah sound-offs of singer Alexis Krauss, this resulted in blowing out listeners' speakers even at mild volumes. To add to the heavy downbeats and overdrive this time, Miller utilizes Reign of Terror to combine the more direct elements of the band with ones that exude a more subdued, gentle tone typically found in shoegazing.

For the five of you that read this blog, I think it's a safe bet that maybe only one of you knows the alt-rock subgenre known as shoegazing. To explain it in succinct terms, shoegaze is the result of the collision of art rock and punk popularized by several British bands in the early '90s. It relies on effects-driven, heavily distorted guitar (called the "wall of sound") that blankets the actual melody. The singer has more of a secondary role of singing in a near whisper to add a trance-like depth to this melody; many times the words are almost unintelligible. The paragon of shoegazing is My Bloody Valentine's Loveless. It's one of my favorite albums, and I highly recommend listening to it firsthand. To the one person who knows what I'm talking about and can probably explain this better than I can: sorry, dude.

With groups like M83 and Silversun Pickups leading a shoegaze revival, Krauss follows suit with such vocal versatility — adding equal parts of Sonic Youth's Kim Gordon, Shirley Manson and solo-career Gwen Stefani to the mix — that she makes it easy to switch from the group's pop anthems to the endearing and demure examples demonstrated on Reign of Terror.

"End of the Line" is certainly the most sentimental song on the work. With sweeping arpeggios from Miller's guitar, the murmurs from Krauss convey more feeling and empathy than most other divas in her genre ever could. Meanwhile, the album also contains the girl-pop chants that launched the duo into the spotlight. On "Demons," there is little doubt that Krauss can still tempt the devil in us all with her supreme boldness and angsty cheers. Do not mistake Krauss's choices for meekness. She fields any questions about her lifetime-badass membership card before anyone with the balls has a chance to ask. Listen to the album's intro, "True Shred Guitar," in which she must drop the f-bomb over seven times in a thirty-second intro in front of a live audience before Miller takes over.

The guitarist and producer also should be commended for his adept arrangements. While he doesn't deviate from the quality of his riffs (a style implementing Black Sabbath, Def Leppard and a very lax Children of Bodom), he succeeds in his purpose to complement Krauss's emotions. One can easily hear how Miller's knowledge of song structure conveys the immense intensity in "Born to Lose." From the tune's droll riff to Miller's bearing down on his guitar's whammy bar, the song succeeds in joining together the the group's older and rawer aspects with the newer and more polished dynamic.

What Sleigh Bells produces with Reign of Terror is a work that is both ornate and introspective. It's this kind of depth that frames the band as the bad boy-girl band on the indie scene today. Although not perfect, the duo's manic ability to both let lose and show restraint makes this an album worth the listen.

For Your Consideration: "Born to Lose," "End of the Line," "Demons."

For Next Time: Some Nights - Fun.

Be the Void - Dr. Dog

Noteworthy

In this band’s seventh album, Philly folk rockers Dr. Dog produce Be the Void, a work fitting its name. Devoid of flourish, excess and overall fluff, the band assembles the scraps from rock genres — an amalgam of psychedelic, folk, Southern rock and early heavy metal — into a lo-fi experience. Dr. Dog, a band known for clear melodic consonance, has experimented with a reversal of structure in song composition. Instead of rich acoustic and piano arrangements, the band instead is reminiscent of a Fat Albert jamboree with a junkyard gang playing with old laundry tubs and rusted cans. Fortunately enough, the musical elements coupled with lead singer Scott McMicken’s versatile voice connects what seems like these incongruous elements rather wonderfully.

“Vampire,” for example, reminds one of Wolfmother in that most of the song is based on a simple repeated riff, making the melody more about the attitude convey substantive feeling. With that in mind, McMicken’s raspy scream haphazardly yet delicately climbs in octave with such ease that, simply put, he finds the perfect balance for what this kind of song requires.

In contrast, the hook for “These Days” winds its way up and down, showing distinct diligence in the proficiency of McMicken and Frank Elroy’s guitar chops coupled with keyboardist Zach Miller’s chords that show the listener the way through the sonic maze.

Although it is expected many of Be the Void’s jams will not be scooped up by alt-rock radio outlets, this is a good offering from a band looking to broaden its horizons on a compositional level. Dr. Dog’s sonic experiment, although rough around the edges, show no signs of minimalism or malaise. Check out Be the Void if you’re in the mood to get caught-up in some snarling, catchy tunes.

For Your Consideration: "Vampire," "These Days."

For Next Time: I don't know yet, but it's coming soon.

This Week in Music: Grammy Recap

Were you expecting a review this week, my cherubs? As it turns out, I was enjoying sitting on my ass too much this weekend. But have no fear. The Grammy's were on, so just like the Madonna thing that happened last week, all I needed to do was watch TV to think of an idea. I have a review cooking from last week, but I thought this needed to be posted the day after the awards, so I'll post two reviews this week, OK? Super duper!


I didn't go into it expecting too much — actually, I expected a Whitney Houston tribute concert — so I was rather impressed that there was some substance.

I'll dissect some of the show's more notable snippets in what I'd like to call The Good, The Bad and ... and The Nicki. As with all my special-event coverage, get ready for some mind-blowing analysis.

The Good




Adele - Before the Whitney a-bomb dropped, everyone was anticipating if Adele could return triumphantly after vocal-cord microsurgery or if she would burn out like a star too bright to sustain itself. Rest assured, even in a lower key, Adele tore the house down by singing "Rolling in the Deep" and took home six Grammys, including "Best Record" for the aforementioned single and "Best Album" for 21.

The Tributes - Most of the show revolved around tributes for musical-visionaries past, both deceased and current stars of AMC's The Walking Dead. Obviously, with the Whitney Houston tragedy casting such a big shadow over the ceremony, things could have turned pretty dour. However, Jennifer Hudson did a pretty inspiring rendition of "I Will Always Love You" at the end. Before that, there was a tribute to Etta James with Alicia Keys and Bonnie Raitt, which worked despite the difference in styles. The Beach Boys came out from each member's respective nursing homes to sing "Good Vibrations," and things went well considering Brian Wilson didn't wander off muttering insane dribble about The Smile Sessions and trying to bludgeon Paul McCartney with a surf board. Country legend Glen Campbell was also honored in a fitting tribute from Lady Antebellum, Blake Shelton and Miranda Lambert after announcing his battle with Alzheimer's and his farewell tour. He also gave a bittersweet rendition of "Rhinestone Cowboy" that was met with a standing ovation. Considering this was supposed to be an all-Whitney-all-the-time event, I was expecting more, even though everyone took it upon themselves to give her a half-hearted shout out just to show some artificial humility; however considering everything happened so fast, J. Hud. gave a fitting tribute for Houston's indomitable voice.

The Journeymen - Although he probably is about to become a zombie himself, McCartney's still shows no signs of slowing down. His first performance from his new album with hired guns Joe Walsh and Diana Krall, didn't wow me, but his medley of songs from Abbey Road more than made up for it, especially when a few of his guitar-playing friends joined him on stage. One was Walsh. Another was Bruce Springsteen, who exhibited great stage presence to open the show when the E Street Band played its new song "We Take Care of Our Own." Dave Grohl was also there after growling out "Walk" with the Foo Fighters in the middle of the show, proving he doesn't make things easy by actively seeking to cause irreparable damage to his vocal cods. Sure, most of the dudes on-stage for the finale had rhythm chops at best, but this was a fitting end for the awards ceremony in the opinion of a guitar buff like myself.

T. Swift - Taylor did well playing a banjo-guitar instrument. I really got a kick out of the set and costumes, too, with everything looking like the first five minutes of The People vs. Larry Flynt when Flynt is like this bootlegging ragamuffin in dirty, baggy clothes and a newsie's cap and there's old crates and gas lamps strewn on the ground. I think sometimes that's what some people envision as the American utopia: where everything looks like a bad animatronic ride in Disneyworld's Frontierland where people drink hard cider and try to kill Br'er Rabbit.

Surprises - With Adele headlining the show, other pop musicians seemed to fall by the wayside. However, Rihanna and Katy Perry managed extremely well. Rihanna performed "We Found Love" note for note and joined Chris Martin onstage for an understated "Princess of China," which proved to be superior to the recorded version. Katy Perry, never the best live performer, was better than usual, mesmerizing the audience with magic tricks and a form-fitting leather suit while singing "E.T." and "Part of Me. " The subject of the latter song seemed topical considering her recent split with ex-husband Russell Brand.


The Bad

Chris Brown - "Horay for spousal abuse!" - Recording Academy.
Chris Brown not only performed twice at the Grammy's, but he also won the award for best "R&B Album." I'm all for forgiveness, but this clown truly disgusts me and those of my gender who feel women should at the very least be treated better than a gym punching bag. I think this is seriously troubling, regardless of the personal things that went down between Rihanna and Brown. I hope the rumor that she's getting back together with him remains a rumor. Thankfully, you can't believe everything you read. Chris Brown deserves to get beaten around the face by one of those American Gladiator chicks. Seriously.

Microphones' Crusade Against Jason Aldean - I don't know who he is, but not only did country star Jason Aldean have his mic cut out during his duet with Kelly Clarkson entitled "Don't You Want to Stay," but there was an audio malfunction during "Best Country Solo Performance," and he was left awkwardly hanging in the wind again. Poor Jason. He deserves at least another gift bag from the Academy for the trouble.

Misunderstanding Bruce Springsteen - Springsteen's new song is meant to be a chance to look at America's misguided embrace of Chicago School economics and the lack of consideration for the poor. Similar to "Born in the USA.," the hook is meant to be ironic, not to be a slogan for Recording Academy President Neil Portnow to use to advocate the Grammy philanthropies, which is unless they are used to finance Blue Ivy's inoculations.

Best New Artist - Most of these artists are not new artists. Bon Iver has been around for four years. Still, congrats Justin Vernon — you looked really comfortable up there, too.

Deadmou5 and Foo Fighters - Ugh.

Chris Martin - Usually a lock, Martin was pitchy during "Paradise." The whole thing was rather unbearable. Better luck next time.

LL Cool Jay as Host - If you're not a comedian, then there's no pressure to host an award show. Just read what's on the teleprompter. LL probably should have done that. I'll give him a pass on the impromptu prayer for Whitney even though it probably made a lot of people in the audience extremely uncomfortable, but read the damn teleprompter. Because if he did, he would know Mr. OG Paul McCartney's adage is not: "The love you get is ... uh ... equal to the love you make."

My Generation - Speaking of Paul McCartney, read this. Feel like you despair the species? Read this. Feel sick? You haven't seen anything yet.


The Nicki

Never has artistic commentary been so profound than when Nicki Minaj called the Catholic Church to task through her song, "Roman Holiday." Either it's cautionary tale on HHS's birth control policy ... or she's actually possessed ... scarier than the actual exorcist because it's real. I'm not sure if Nicki loves to pretend she has Multiple Personality Disorder or if Queens did that to her. I know one of these personalities is this wild child named "Roman" and another one is his British mother named "Martha" and I guess ... you know what? F*ck it. Just watch this.

Be afraid. Be very afraid. Sophia Grace and Rosie must have been very confused.


Definitely not Pelican Fly, Nicki. Then again, everybody poops. Better luck next time.

There you have it: my Grammy recap. I think it's so good, it's almost like being there.

For Next Time: Be the Void - Dr. Dog

This Week in Music: Madonna Halftime Show

I would be remiss if I didn't address this in some way. This year's Superbowl was the most watched TV telecast in history. 111.3 million people tuned in to see the New York Giants edge out the New England Patriots for the second time in five years. As a Philadelphia Eagles fan, I was really pulling for a leprosy outbreak in both locker rooms this year, but anything would be better than a parade in New York. Once again, it appears that if God cares about such matters, He truly despises Philly sports fans.

But we are not talking about football. How about that halftime show? 114 million people watched it — that's three million more than the actual game! And, you know what, I thought it was pretty good. I had a much more enjoyable time tweeting about it than others, I guess (cue The Barry Gibb Talk Show: ROLAND S. MARTIN. CNN POLITICAL CONSULTANT ...). Does anybody remember those horrible ones that were forced "collaborations" (henceforth known as "collabos" to show how much credence I have given them) such as the one with Britney Spears and *NSYNC and Aerosmith? Or the one with Shania Twain and Sting and No Doubt? Thank God the last true "collabo" with Nelly, Puffy, Kid Rock, Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson happened. Boobs really do cure all ills. Now you only have to watch one artist, usually a Rock and Roll Hall of Famer, perform established standards that we all know and love. I mean, think about it: Paul McCartney, The Rolling Stones, Prince, Tom Petty, Bruce and the E Street Band, The Who. Go ahead and skip The Black Eyed Peas because, again, for the most part another "collabo."

Sure, there were people like LMFAO and Cee-Lo Green who had no business being there, but 80 percent of the performance were Madonna songs, and the ones that weren't only lasted for less than a minute anyway.

But here's where Madonna got an unfair shake. The morning after, there were so many news outlets putting out trash under taglines like "Has Madonna Lost Her Touch?" and "Is Madonna over the Hill?" I usually wake up and turn on the TV because I usually lie there for a minute. On Monday, I heard Ann Curry basically set up the halftime show recap by basically saying, "Look at this old bitch flailing around here." I don't think that's not fair. That's not fair at all. I'm not a fan of Madonna, but I respect that she put out a show given all the past issues and negativity surrounding it. She doesn't deserve the criticism she's been getting.

First, she didn't do anything that should have warranted those comments. Madonna's an aging sex symbol, but she didn't throw anything in our face that tried to remind us. She just went out there to perform. She has a record a mile long that would have said something crazy is going to go down — the Britney Spears kiss, the "Like a Prayer" video with swarthy Jesus, her glorified porno book simply titled Sex just to list several of the more notable controversial statements. Anything remotely like that would have be even crazier because this is not the environment for those things. But, she covered up and did her entire show so it was family friendly. I thank her for that because any arm jiggling would have made me gag on the Scotch I was sipping. In fact, the only person who did anything was M.I.A., and that I think that was deserved.


Who's M.I.A.? Forgot about "Paper Planes" already? That's one angry Bangladeshi, as well she should be. Flip away, M.I.A., flip away.

Second, Madonna is 53 years old. We're lucky she's even willing to do this sh*t still. This gig is just the worst: a futile battle aimed to please everyone. She still took up the challenge and gave America a good performance. So she lip-synced? Who cares? At that point, nobody wants you to make new arrangements of old songs. Just have them sound like how they're supposed to sound. Unplugged is still on MTV, right? Nope. Point for me. So she stumbled on that 300-foot-tall set of bleachers? Who cares? Remember when an ostensibly intoxicated Bruce Springsteen did a power slide during the Superbowl and took out that camera guy? No one said he should crawl back into the retirement community he came from. Two points for me.

Still, Madonna has the stigma of being an aging woman, I guess. That means anyone with a platform can make a borderline sexist statement without batting an eyelash. No one said this about The Stones, and they are only alive because Brendan Frasier read aloud from some Egyptian tablet back in 1999.

What it comes down to is we need to give Madonna some credit. If you were expecting The Beatles at Shea Stadium, you were expecting too much. But, as evidenced by this year and last year, the "collabos" are slowly but surely returning to the halftime show. Expect LMFAO back, but this time with Adele and Skrilxx or whoever is free and wants to make $5 million to sing "Brown Eyed Girl" or something else completely arbitrary. Sounds awful. The same people joking now are going to be begging for Madonna to come back. I personally hope she brings the tightrope guy who mutilated his junk, too. That was hilarious.

Born to Die - Lana Del Rey

Trash It

Jesus. I dunno ... It's safe to say I know what side of the fence I'm on concerning Lana Del Rey. I am going to acknowledge that perhaps I'm letting my personal experiences cloud my judgment. I might have on a subconscious level made up my mind after the Saturday Night Live performance, in which I foiled my cynicism's assassination attempt on my inner-child. I might have reveled in the fact that the hipsters' newly elected diva had secretly been a 1-pecenter-trust-fund baby planted among the ironic t-shirts. But I dunno. I don't want my review to come off as a vendetta against Lana. She's not my cup of tea — in fact, I would say she's not even my cup of boiling water. Even so, I really wanted to be fair. I even created another category to my ratings system (see above). But, after listening to this trite little album all the way through, I'm going to have to say f*ck it. This one joins the list of the worst records I have ever reviewed.

"Jim," you may be thinking, "I've always known you could be a spiteful asshole at times, but this takes it to a new level." I am well aware this all sounds pretty vindictive, but I think all you need is one listen of this finished product before you feel like your head is about to explode a la David Cronenberg's Scanners. If I'm a prick, I'm a prick; this deserves it.

Del Rey (the stage name of Lizzie Grant) markets herself as an old soul with modern-day attitude. The only thing timeless about her is her Marilyn Monroe-like baby talk that makes it rather difficult to make out what exactly she's trying to comment on. It turns out there is no need to search through the lyrics. Most of her motifs are about drinking and schmoozing with rich, older men. On the bright side, she's really literary with all her Nabokov references (yikes). Yep, nothing says Electra Complex like Del Rey's "Off to the Races" and "Million Dollar Man," both of which make you think there is something unnatural going on between her and her Internet-mogul father. Between her tonal mumblings, the listener is sure to find little to like in Del Rey's lease on life. As she says in "National Anthem": "Money is the reason we exist / Everybody knows it. It's a fact. Kiss kiss." No bones about it, this young lady is trying to win our hearts with a blunt superficiality that would make the Gossip Girls blush. Del Rey carries on throughout the record like a spoiled child boorishly dismissing conflict and chances to grow from it to land an affluent man and get obscenely drunk in the process.

That's not to say she doesn't have an introspective side. Del Rey tries her hand at exploring the realms outside of bored-rich-girl-with-time-on-her-hands land in a few instances. When she tries to convey the emotion of a torch song, as on "Video Games," what comes across is narcolepsy. In the song, she analyzes a relationship between her and some dude who would rather play Xbox than play with her ... you know ... Although the analogy to stunted emotional growth and video games doesn't roll off the tongue, it's speaks volumes about her own strength and self-respect by leaving someone who is too immature to respect her. Unfortunately, this message is negated by Del Rey's low growls and a droning score that puts most to sleep.

The only lukewarm song in the bunch is "Radio." Del Rey finally sings in her limited euphonious range about her chase for fame and the American Dream. Although the triumph over her adversities might not have been particularly difficult given the circumstances, the listener can forget that for a minute because there's finally some catharsis after all the vain trifles that plague the work.

There has been a lot of praise for the production team headed by Emile Haynie as a bright spot on the album. In my opinion, not even the romanticized melodies can save Del Rey from herself as she trolls out her strident squawks.

Yes, I would go so far to say American culture is quite bankrupt indeed when an artist like this is celebrated for listing all of her favorite kinds of alcohol and chasers in a tone-deaf manner (She can't sing. I mean is anybody not seeing this, I FEEL LIKE I'M TAKING CRAZY PILLS). However, some reviewers who chronicled her rise to greatness are doing their best to save their crowned princess by praising her as a living performance piece — an timid actress playing the role of a bona fide bad girl. The problem with this logic is even if Lizzie Grant is a great impersonator, the character is so abhorrent you can't help but hate her.

For Your Consideration: Nope

For Next Time: No Idea

This Week in Music: Kanye in the Middle East

Well, sh*t just got pretty cray ...

Yeezy has announced he is researching locations for his new short film in the style of his "Runaway" video. He has sent emissaries (or Yeezbassadors) to locations in the Persian Gulf —specifically Abu Dhabi, Dubai and Doha, Qatar — to gauge interest from governments and private investors from each region.

Why the Arabian Peninsula? Rumor has it he fell in love with region after a concert in Abu Dhabi. But, in truth, nobody really knows. If you're one of his Twitter followers, he'll probably get bored and tell you soon enough.

Then again, what's not to love? I don't know a lot about the United Arab Emirates personally, but after reading an article on Duabi in Vanity Fair some time ago, I think it said that if you have the money, you can ski inside a mountain-sized dome, play tennis on rooftops, kill endangered animals for sport and own real estate on an island themed after your favorite country (well, any country except for Israel. I don't know if you've been keeping up on your current events).

Yo, Kanye, I'm really happy for you and Imma let him finish, but I think going to the Persian Gulf is the worst idea of all time! THE WORST IDEA OF ALL TIME!

Let me explain. I think it's safe to say we all know Kanye's antics over here. I love Kanye; however, he definitely can get away with all this antics when he's on American soil. We love our famous lunatics over here. But with all the people wandering into Iran these days, the last thing we need is for him to say is the Ayatollah does not care about black people.