Danielson: Ships

I'm glad Danielson exists, and I'm glad they're trying to push the limits of quirky underground music. It gives isolated, twenty-something indie fans something to feel smug about ("Who am I listening to on my iPod? Oh, it's a band you wouldn't know.") without forcing them to take on the challenges of truly difficult music like Mahavishnu Orchestra or Captain Beefheart. I only hope that either Daniel C. Smith's (the Daniel behind Danielson) talent catches up with his ambitions, or another group of musicians hears Ships and is inspired to do the same thing. But better. Much, much better.

Music:
The music is ambitious. The lyrics are intelligent and clever. The performers are a hipster's who's-who (Sufjan Stevens, members of Ladytron and Deerhoof, Steve Albini, etc). The performances are somewhat energetic. And the songs are boring. They sound as if Smith had a bunch of wacky ideas, but couldn't turn them into cohesive musical creations.

On a Baltimore note, "Bloodbook on the Halfshell" reminds me of how I felt the first time I stepped into the Book Thing. "These lovely bloody books, arms full of lovely books, freely collecting books, we're getting funny looks, while we are stacking organizing filing piling way up high and rising Dewey dusty decimalizing sorting tracking systemizing, can't believe we found this vintage, we now have such great advantage, great they'll look in our library." The song made me smile, but I was smiling because of my own life and my own memories. Without those, this song would have been as empty for me as the rest of the album.

Packaging:
The booklet is aesthetically beautiful. Unfortunately, it's functionally useless. On one side of the insert, the lyrics are printed down the length of the full six pages, which looks neat but is annoying to read. The other side is filled with words that end with "-ship," and is even more annoying to read. Perhaps the worst example of form over function is the album credits: the names of everyone who worked on the album are written in tiny and nearly illegible print along the masts of the sailboat on the cover. Smith obviously loves words, but his booklet doesn't give them the respect they deserve.

Listen if you like: Flaming Lips, Sufjan Stevens, quirky and overhyped underground rock that's big on presentation on short on substance.

If it were food, it'd be: Tomatoes from an urban community garden where flavorless vegetables are grown by hipsters in soil rich with smug self-righteousness.

Okkervil River: Black Sheep Boy

I've known about Okkervil River for awhile, but until now, I've been unable to listen to them. It's not because I hate their politics, or because they were playing when my girlfriend dumped me, or because the singer kicked my dog. No, it's because... well, it's because their name looks like it should have umlauts in it. Something like Ökkervil Rïver, maybe.

Okkervil River is not the kind of band that puts unnecessary umlauts in their name. As far as I can tell, the singer doesn't wear assless leather chaps and they haven't written any songs with titles like "Stick It To Ya" or "Sweet Teezer."

Unfortunately, they've almost gone too far in the opposite direction. The songs are sweet and sad and smart and clever and charming and well-produced, just like a sensitive guy who wears black turtlenecks and quotes Dostoevsky at parties. Frankly, Okkervil River could benefit from feeling a breeze blow across their exposed butt cheeks. Okkervil River could maybe use an umlaut or two.

Music:
At its best, Black Sheep Boy sounds like Bright Eyes; at its worst, it sounds like Robert Smith doing a guest spot with Bright Eyes. Overall, the lyrics are well-written, and they possess a sense of rhythm and rhyme that most lyricists never achieve. Songwriter Will Sheff's intelligence and/or thesaurus occasionally cloud his better judgment, though, and he sneaks in words like abecedarian and oubliette -- something that will charm overwrought English Lit students and annoy the rest of us.

Packaging:
William Schaff and Darius Van Arman did a superb job on the artwork and design, respectively. The images are intriguing, and they're an important part of a comprehensive package. The text is easy to read, and the layout clearly conveys that these aren't just random words. From a practical perspective, the contrast between the text and the paper makes the booklet a bit difficult to read, but from an aesthetic perspective, it's obvious why Van Arman choose these colors. It was a wise decision not to clutter up the package with a bunch of band photos.

Listen if you like: Bright Eyes fans should definitely check this out, because it's playing the same game without being completely derivative.

If it were food, it'd be: A lonely beer late at night with tears of sweat trickling down its sides that reflect the streaks that bleed beneath your watery eyes as you realize she will never be here to share this lonely beer.

Jacqueline du Pré: A Lasting Impression

I don't know much about classical music, but I can hear that cellist Jacqueline du Pré was different. She was kind of like Jimmy Page. She could play all the notes and make them sound pretty, but she understood that sometimes, when you were feeling the music in your blood and your bile and your sex and your soul, it didn't matter whether or not the notes all sounded pretty. She understood that sometimes, the notes are the least important part of music.

In my book, that means Jacqueline du Pré understood what it means to rock. And in my book, that makes her worth listening to.

Music:
The first track (Dvorák's "Cello Concerto in B minor") and the last track (Franck's "Sonata in A") are good starting points. The symphonic Dvorák piece is big and dark and dramatic, and du Pré's cello solo is fiery and passionate. The Franck piece is just her and her husband, pianist Daniel Barenboim. It sounds like a journey through a difficult relationship, and the performances make me wonder what went on in the private lives of these two very talented people.

Oh, and when you're listening to this, listen loud. Forget about that mentality that says classical music should be in the background of some hoity-toity bookstore or café. No, turn the volume up on this one, turn it as high as you can handle it, and immerse yourself in the music. Then and only then should you decide whether or not this is any good.

Packaging:
The liner notes prove that there was at least one completely incompetent graphic designer working at EMI in 1996. If you can get past the ugly colors, difficult typefaces, and useless layout, you'll be rewarded with a minuscule bit of substance.

Listen if you like: Jimmy Page, but are open-minded enough to appreciate something different; classical music, but aren't married to the notion that technical proficiency equates soul.

If it were food, it'd be: I used to eat at this fancy little restaurant in New York. The guy who ran it was a world-renowned chef, but he also happened to be a hard-drinking biker who would scare the living bejeezus out of anyone who mouthed off to his waitresses. du Pré's music reminds me of his food; it's beautiful, but its heart and soul and bicep are never afraid to make an unannounced appearance.

Various Artists: That's Why We're Marching - World War II and the American Folk Song Movement

Good compilation albums tell a story. It's not a story that can be told by any single song on the compilation, but a story that recognizes each song as a vital part of something larger. Good compilation albums find a big truth within the voices of small songs.

That's Why We're Marching finds the big truth within 25 small songs. The individual songs might be about political hypocrisy, racial inequality, unions, war, or Fascism, but the big picture is about love. Each of these songs is about a powerful love for the poor people and the tortured people and the neglected people and the black people and the Russian people and the Jewish people and the people who worked in factories and the people who joined unions and the people who bought war bonds and the people who enlisted and the people who fought and the people who buried their children and the people who sacrificed their own lives in order to help save the lives of strangers who were being slaughtered on the other side of some mighty big oceans. These are songs of love for all of those people and countless others.

The songs on That's Why We're Marching might be about politics and race and war and fighting and dying and working. The album, though, is simply a collection of great love songs.

Music:
I can't imagine how this collection of songs could be any better. Everything on here is good, even the stuff that's kind of tough to get through. What might be the best song on the album isn't even a song, it's a story by Jimmy Longhi about being with Woody Guthrie and Cisco Houston on a ship that was under attack. When the story ends and "When the Yanks Go Marching In" begins, it is a joyous musical moment that literally gave me a chill.

Packaging:
Like virtually everything from Smithsonian Folkways, the booklet in That's Why We're Marching is superb. It's 28 pages long, with two columns of small print on each page. There's an extraordinary amount of detail, even by Smithsonian Folkways standards, and it's fascinating to read. There are a couple of minor typos and factual mistakes, though, and for a CD that acts as a historical document, errors like that can bring its credibility into question. In the EPFL's version, there is a hand-written correction on the first page of the booklet, which means that someone checked out the CD and cared enough to fix a mistake. That's the kind of thing that can only happen with CDs from the library, and that's the kind of thing that makes the EPFL so wonderful.

Listen if you like: folk artists like Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie, and Lead Belly; folk revivalists like Billy Bragg and Wilco; protest songs; love.

If it were food, it'd be: the kind of homemade stew that simmers on the stove all day long and contains pretty much everything that's leftover in the fridge and the pantry, and it tastes like all of those things but it tastes like something more... perhaps it tastes just a little bit like love.

The Velvet Underground: The Velvet Underground and Nico

Admission #1: To the best of my knowledge, I have never heard a single song by The Velvet Underground. Until today.

Admission #2: When I checked out The Velvet Underground and Nico from the EPFL, I really wanted to trash it. I hate VU followers like The Pixies, and I think Lou Reed's "Walk on the Wild Side" is one of the lamest rock songs ever.

Admission #3: I think this album is amazing

You don't need me to rehash what's been said a thousand times about The Velvet Underground and Nico. Is it melodramatic and scarier-than-thou? Yes. Is it nihilistic and self-absorbed? Yes. Is it caught up in some ignorant and short-sighted viewpoints about life? Yes. Does it push boundaries? Absolutely. Do Lou Reed and Nico have annoying voices? Yes, but they're the right voices for the music. Is it difficult to listen to? At times, but in a good way. Is it unlike anything that came before it? No, but it changed everything that came after it.

Music:
The album possesses a timelessness that eluded most bands from the late '60s. Sure, a few of the songs are dated: "Run Run Run" sounds like a Stones throwaway, and the backup vocals in "There She Goes Again" are generic trippy drivel. As a whole, though, this could've been recorded at any point in the past four decades. I understand why it's received so much praise over the years.

My favorite moments are when the band sinks into an almost abstract sonic assault, like on "European Son." They weren't relying on mounds of guitar effects, impenetrable layers of electronic samples, or overdeveloped technical prowess to create a dense wall of noise; they were simply taking what they had and wrecking shop with it. Hearing this song makes me realize that I was correct in dismissing Boris as a bunch of wankers.

Packaging:
The cover, Banana by Andy Warhol, is pretty awesome, even if you're not a Warhol fan (which I'm not). It's simple, it's unique, it's eye-catching, it's immediately recognizable, and it's impossible to imitate. It has to be one of the greatest album covers in the history of rock. The inside of the CD jacket isn't nearly as impressive, though. Some of the photos are dark portraits of forboding characters staring at the camera, while others are dark portraits of forboding characters staring at the camera with cheesy lighting effects on their faces. It was probably cool at the time, but now it just looks corny.

Listen if you like: art rock, punk, indie, goth, noise, doom metal, experimental music, drug music, psych... really, I guess you should just listen if you like any rock music from the past 40 years.

If it were food, it'd be: A Twinkie. It's as fresh today as it was 40 years ago.

Mclusky: The Difference Between You and Me Is that I'm Not on Fire

Based on the album title and the song title and the photos, I was expecting to be greeted by distorto guitars layered beneath some screaming emo singer who was distraught because his life in suburbia is, like, totally meaningless. What I got was something that sounds like the bastard child of John Lydon and Tom Morello.

And I love it.

Nothing here is amazing, but it all comes together to create something greater than its parts. The production is thin and spacious; there's no "wall of sound," but there is definitely a wall of energy. What the band lacks in chops and skill, they more than make up for with creativity and heart. (Don't get me wrong; they have chops, just not the kind they can show off by playing "Stairway to Heaven" in the local guitar shop.) There's something very dark happening in the music, but there's also an undeniable sense of fun. These guys sound as if they want, need, and love to make music together.

Wow. I just re-read that paragraph, and I realized that I wrote the recipe for a great rock album. The Difference Between You and Me Is that I'm Not on Fire may not be great, but it's certainly knocking at the door.

Music:
I don't know if it's the production, the performances, or the songwriting, but The Difference reminds me a bit of early P.J. Harvey. (Like Mclusky, P.J. Harvey has been produced by Steve Albini.) The music is sloppy and chaotic, but it moves like a freight train. On the first listen, I got a bit bored by the second half of the album, but it got better and better each time I played it. The weakest part of the album is probably the lyrics; they're either gibberish or genius, and they have the same kind of curious appeal as Soul Coughing's words.

Packaging:
The cover photo is striking, but other than establishing a black & white color scheme, I'm not certain how it relates to the album. Every photo in the booklet is strong in its own way, and they all fit the music well. The live photos of the group reflect performers who seem totally engaged with their music, and the silly photos manage to inject some lightness without making the band look like a bunch of clowns. The lyrics are fairly easy to read, although artist Victoria Collier could have bumped up the font-size without compromising the design.

Listen if you like: Public Image Ltd., P.J. Harvey, Flipper, Deftones, Rage Against the Machine

If it were food, it'd be: Wasabi. It surprises and hurts at first, but you're excited to get some more as soon as it fades away.

The New Pornographers: Twin Cinema

Twin Cinema confuses me. The performances are energetic, the music is interesting, the lyrics are decent, and I find the album utterly boring.

Maybe it's the whole power-pop/indie-rock thing. I don't much care for Beatles and/or Kinks fans who wear their literary intellects and their love for smarmy '70s pop on their ironic sleeves.

Or maybe it's the fact that I've never liked a band on Matador Records. Not that I've heard their whole catalog or anything, but very few Matador bands do more than bore me. Yo La Tengo? More like No La Tengo. Cat Power? Sounds like Cat Pooper. Neko Case?

Well, now I'm confused again. Neko Case is one of the strongest singers I've heard in the past decade. It's as if her voice is in harmony with my very soul, and when she sings, my spirit vibrates. But not here. It doesn't matter whether she or A.C. Newman is singing; it leaves me completely cold.

I've listened and listened and listened to Twin Cinema. I actually started listening when it came out in 2005, but then I got bored and gave away my copy of the CD. So I tried listening again when I saw Twin Cinema at the EPFL, and I'm still bored. Maybe their name should be The New Borenographers.

Music:
Twin Cinema is filled with well-constructed songs that are played by reasonably talented musicians who work together to create some decent energy, but the music is about as exciting as a third-rate '80s arena rock band like 38 Special. It's missing that certain je ne sais qua that the greatest rock albums possess. The brightest point on the album is the refrain on "The Bleeding Heart Show," which sounds like a reworked version of "Life in a Northern Town" by The Dream Academy. I can't really fault Twin Cinema, but I would be lying if I called it anything more than mildly interesting.

Packaging:
The cover suffers from the same shortcomings as the music. It's good and it conveys a mood, but it doesn't matter. Pictures of vintage gear in run down rehearsal spaces are almost as clichéd as skull tattoos. The idea of using a portable screen for the album's credits was brilliant, but the execution is as uninspired as the rest of the package. The words should have been projected on the screen in each photo, not pasted on top by some hack who knows nothing about Photoshop except for how to center text. Sure, it would have been more difficult; it also would have been good.

Listen if you like: Indie rock/pop like Yo La Tengo or Pavement. I wouldn't even consider recommending this to Neko Case fans, as I think her performances here are a disservice to her talent.

If it were food, it'd be: The last few years I lived in New York, Belgian fries became popular with the cool kids. Twin Cinema reminds me of Belgian fries: no matter how fabulous the indie rock hipsters say they are, they make for a boring and unhealthy meal.