A Century in Blogger's Time

Dear Faithful SCQ Readers,

Much has occurred over the past several days. For one, I'm currently typing this - my 100th post for the SCQ homepage - on a brand new MacBook (!!). Also, I've moved out of Toronto and as of tomorrow morning will be departing on a plane bound for Taiwan (!?!?!??!). Until I find myself a place to live and some time alone, SCQ has been forced into hiatus. Expect a solid week or two.

In the meantime, keep well and enjoy the last full month of summer. The year has many records in store for us yet!

Love SCQ.

Modern Guilt - Beck

Modern Guilt

Beck
DGC Records.

SCQ Rating: 71%

It’s redundant but still stupefying to think that the man who wrote ‘Loser’, a single that everyone loved by an artist everyone prophesized to be a one-hit-wonder, has not only carved himself an impeccable, high profile career, but is currently doing press for his tenth full-length. That says two things: the genius behind ‘Loser’ was no fluke, and secondly, Beck Hanson isn’t one to rest on his laurels.

Since the sample-happy sound he embarked upon with the Dust Brothers on 1996’s Odelay became exploited and old-hat, Beck has been in the enviable position of hiring the best up-and-coming producers to reincarnate alongside. From Nigel Godrich, Tony Hoffer, and now Danger Mouse, each has provided their own trademark flourishes to Beck’s chameleon sound, and in the same way Godrich enriched Sea Change with his own orchestral smears, Danger Mouse punches up Modern Guilt’s percussion like a Gnarls Barkley/Spoon hybrid. And as we’ve become accustomed to realizing, Beck knows what he’s doing. In hiring Danger Mouse, he’s aiming to cut more rhythm and hipness into what is likely his most precisely retro songwriting in years. Retro not only for his eternal love of 60s folk and Motown, but retro in his straight-forward approach to material he would’ve interspliced with genre-defying surprises in the past. Danger Mouse’s inclusion of some nearly Drum-N-Bass inspired beats ends up giving ‘Replica’ its identity, while ‘Walls’ succeeds with some East meets West sampling; a sorrow-filled viola that adds drama to some kicking live drums.

Beyond the Danger Mouse association, Modern Guilt’s nom-du-jour is brevity, famously clocking in at under half the running-time of The Information. This frugal approach feels forced at the close of almost every song, where the tape abruptly stops. It’s truly a take-it-or-leave-it aspect to the record; you’ll adjust to it or long for these songs to explore more symphonic avenues. Even so, critics have jumped into various pools of thought over these thirty-three minutes, claiming Modern Guilt is a political record about our collective, Western guilt toward global turmoil, or simply a heavy-handed party record, where Beck’s distant vocals are illustrative of his indifferent numbness. Both these groups of theorists are listening to only half the album, because it’s all of the above: ‘Gamma Ray’, the fun-loving follow-up to Guero’s ‘E-Pro’ pinpoints environmental politics, but irreverently, with the vocal disdain that makes his records thought-provoking over plain preachy. Modern Guilt plays to these strengths as a whole, and Beck’s strategy is infinitely more pleasing than either side of this critical debate could play out on its own. ‘Chemtrails’ is an impenetrable jam of Beck’s assorted anxieties while ‘Profanity Prayers’, one of the best Danger Mouse/Beck collabs here, comments on a cynicism that Hanson, at 38 years old, has gradually grown into.

Considering this is a Beck album, Danger Mouse has captured a lion’s share of attention, and I have my suspicions why. I’ve long felt that Beck leans pretty hard on his producers – an impression that grows stronger with each release – and to stand by Beck’s talents, he’s never made an ill-advised choice. His vision might be greater than his ability, and that’s no insult – let’s face it, even his stripped-down, folk album had more hands on deck than most prog-rock records employ – but Modern Guilt, his first record that feels unusually absent of gimmickry, remains consistently fresh.

At this halfway point of his career, Beck is entering a frustrating era for a man of his past achievements; that genuinely enjoyable records will be swallowed by the memory of his once-pioneering shadow (that of Odelay, Midnite Vultures). Here, Beck makes no attempt to rehash the past, and the honesty present in closer ‘Volcano’ (“I’ve been drifting on this wave so long, I don’t know if it’s already crashed on the shore,”) offers enough chills to warrant a celebration in honour of his career’s second phase. Diminishing returns? You bet. Worth repeated listens? Absolutely.

Consolers of the Lonely - The Raconteurs

Consolers of the Lonely

The Raconteurs
Third Man Records.

SCQ Rating: 65%

Warning: if this review seems overly concerned with Jack White, it’s because this may as well be his solo project. Sure, Benson and the crew are still in tow but everything else that made Broken Boy Soldiers such a welcome distraction has disappeared up White’s sleeve; its clean, modern production and songwriting pitted the Raconteurs against the stagnant radio rock scene, while suggesting a clear aesthetic path away from the analog blues of the White Stripes. With Consolers of the Lonely, we instead find all the White Stripes trademarks sans Meg White herself: produced by Jack White III for his label, Third Man Records, and to boot, Consolers… boasts the same schizophrenic approach to songwriting. Both the enthralling 2005 effort Get Behind Me Satan and to a lesser degree, last year’s Icky Thump, featured song-cycles loaded with unpredictable left-turns; marimba-chiming prog-rock, traditional bluegrass, piano ballads, Zeppelin-scorchers and bagpipe-epics all rolled into one impossible whole. Get Behind Me Satan still gives me shivers because it found White purposefully working on the outskirts of his comfort zone, testing himself with rewarding results. Icky Thump, on the other hand, incorporated those rewards into his devious classic-rock tendencies, making one of his most well-rounded statements to date. While Consolers… contains a similarly eclectic mix and pulls it off, that feat is at the sacrifice of any identity the Raconteurs may’ve had without White’s dictatorship in effect. These resulting fourteen tracks, without any interweaving themes or logical sequencing, compete for attention instead of complimenting each other.

Still, Benson and the other Raconteurs give us moments to savour, chiming in on the troubled romance of ‘You Don’t Understand Me’, the Americana-infused ‘Old Enough’ and, best of all, Benson’s horn-heavy ‘Several Shades of Black’. Those tracks being Raconteur-highlights, so to speak, don’t mean the rest of Consolers… is a one-man show. To look at this band from a different angle, Benson, Keeler and Lawrence are an ideal unit to fill out White’s rock-ability, which they flesh out on ‘These Stones Will Shout’, a track that they instill with a progressive rock pulse.

So even if The Raconteurs are no longer in league with contemporary rock, instead opting for classic-rock aping, what’s the damage? Surprisingly little, beyond what initially drew us to the idea of White sharing a band with three other guys in the first place. Large and in charge, White makes good on his blues-rock addiction with ‘Top Yourself’, the Led Zeppelin guitar-rock of ‘Rich Kid Blues’, his Dylan-esque storytelling on ‘Carolina Drama’ and his, um, White Stripes dynamics with ‘Salute Your Solution’. Playing in the shadow of such great rock pioneers is hardly shameful – Jack White has proven over the course of several albums that there’s plenty of room to make the old new again – but when the Raconteurs become suggestive of the White Stripes, I think finding a new producer is top priority.

What has always thwarted me when reviewing Jack White records is how singular yet constrained their impact is. Although the man throws a ton of lyrical twists and musical surprises into the mix, Consolers of the Lonely joins the majority of White efforts that are ideal for social gatherings and Friday afternoon celebrations, but unlikely to be heard during the greater scope of human emoting or stereo-time. If I was somehow able to spend my life sipping Coronas on a cottage deck while playing air-guitar, Consolers of the Lonely would rank highly on SCQ's Year-End list. However, as reality would have it, this record stands among most of Jack White's productions as a wonderful summer album, ragged and ruthless, that no classic-rock purist should miss. You really can't ask too much of a good time.

The Devil, You + Me - The Notwist

The Devil, You + Me

The Notwist
Domino Records.

SCQ Rating: 78%
Wishlist Counterpoint: 83%

A new Notwist record had been on my wishlist well before its details were announced at the turn of 2008, and not only because the four piece electronic group had been silent for six years. Their previous outing, 2002’s Neon Golden, had unleashed my unaware love for German Electro-pop – a passion that would later introduce me to Ulrich Schnauss, Apparat, and the majority of the Morr Music roster – and became my mystery-band of the year. Its programmed beats were so punctuated amid string flourishes, weaving in and out of tempered atmospherics, that one couldn’t help but be hooked after a single listen. But what kept Neon Golden so dear to heart after six years in obscurity is certainly in the lyrical and vocal talents of ringleader Marcus Acher, whose obscure turns of phrases and passionless singing are but a few in a bag of Acher oddities. So while I’ll attempt not to gush at the subtle beauty of The Devil, You + Me, I’ve been awaiting this follow-up for many years. Luckily, if you rummage the About SCQ page, you’ll find I never claimed to be bipartisan.

The brilliance of Neon Golden remains abundant here, if not superior, due to the Notwist’s decision to bury their hooks deeper into the mix, beneath a heavy wash of broken melodies and digital washes. While the results on The Devil, You + Me are consequently less immediate, the payoff is in the patience with songs that’ll settle in your head and grow with you. Once again, Acher is responsible for the material’s longevity; his impassive voice giving unexpected weight to the near-balladry of ‘Gloomy Planets’ or heart to the burdened but wonderous ‘Hands On Us’. Hats off to Notwist’s other three quarters, though, who’ve fulfilled this record’s destiny to be the wiser, more elegant brother to Neon Golden’s experimental character. Focusing less on electronic telltales, The Notwist of 2008 retain their edge but with a gentler lens; here, they present several acoustic-based numbers, sweet and subdued, well sequenced with some of their creepiest work to date. At its most unnerving, ‘Alphabet’ presents a one-chord song that becomes an interesting noise assault, while ‘On Planet Off’ acts as a vacant late-centerpiece to this album of interplanetary themes. This somber disposition is smartly shaken up with the scorching opener ‘Good Lies’ and ‘Boneless’, which, featuring a swift set of live drums and uplifting melody, is closest to their older Domino material.

The only thing that prevents this from becoming another tour de force is that Acher and Co. have done it all before. Despite a new cycle of thrilling songs, The Devil, You + Me is but a refinement of their breakthrough effort; that 2002 masterwork that now feels abrupt by comparison. While few will doubt that this album, as assured and beautiful as it is, proves the Notwist to be even more accomplished than before, it rarely pushes the envelope that made us once gasp and wonder where these guys came from. Still, the six years of unintentional hype aside, The Devil, You + Me is worth the wait; an album I’ll be comforted by through the months to come.

Viva La Vida or Death and All of His Friends - Coldplay

Viva La Vida

Coldplay
Parlophone Records.

SCQ Rating: 74%

Remember when your friends could say “I really like Coldplay” without that apologetic tone in their voice, as if they’d committed some horrific fashion-error that might injure your friendship? When you could state your appreciation of Coldplay’s efforts without prematurely retaliating with a smirking ‘fuck off’? Since I first heard ‘Yellow’ in my graduating year of high school, Coldplay have always held a position on my music radar: I caught their first Canadian show, was in a record shoppe on the day of A Rush of Blood to the Head’s release, casually listened to my brother’s copy of X&Y for a year before I bought it, and recently bought Viva La Vida for my girlfriend. OK, so as that timeline indicates, Coldplay have kinda slipped from the forefront of my radar since 2002; no foul there. Point is, liking Coldplay has never made me an insecure audiophile; even at X&Y’s anthemic, bloated worst, one could identify a few solid rock numbers that my friends would’ve loved had Coldplay not written it. So would I be standing proud as a regular Coldplay fan if Viva La Vida was complete rubbish? Yes… although my review would be about to take a drastic left turn.

Thankfully, Viva La Vida rebounds from the stale songwriting that resulted in X&Y’s epic bulkiness; a record that makes no attempt to offer grand statements or undercooked themes. And what do you know, even without looming blocks of production or a specific musical ideology in place, Viva La Vida is a well-sequence and fluid album, the kind where each song is its own territory. That these songs own their space so concretely gives extra cred to the album, given that these ten tracks support at least fourteen actual songs, the majority of which pick up when their title song fades to black. That ‘Chinese Sleep Chant’, an echo-based rock song skips in after ‘Yes’ like someone rolled a frequency dial, manages to fit between two customary Coldplay songs is bonefide proof that Coldplay can evolve as a band. These hidden tracks scattered throughout Viva La Vida unquestionably make it a better album, and give it a complementary uniqueness in the Coldplay discography.

Besides that, the focus here is restraint and the four Brits pull it off in several key songs: ‘Life in Technicolour’ is all the melody and romance Coldplay are known for, delivered in a mean and instrumental two and a half minutes, while ‘Lost!’, their best song in years, is an intricate and considered improvement on their regular songcraft. Among several upgrades is Chris Martin, who remains challenged in the lyrical department, but really, with his range, no voice could better sell his occasionally schmaltzy material. The rest of the band is also on board, with ‘42’ branching out in some dirtier guitar and more assertive arrangements. What makes this focus a surprise is also in direct opposition to what made Viva La Vida such a curiosity for me; that with Brian Eno on deck, and all his production talents and vision, Coldplay have zeroed in instead of playing around. Eno knows exactly what aspects of their sound to accentuate, giving those guitar bits in the chorus extra morning dew and providing ample soundscapes for each song’s foundation.

By the time ‘Death and All of His Friends’, the best Coldplay finale since ‘Amsterdam’, codas into the ethers, I’m proud of the boys. Few bands take flak from the music press with the venom that Coldplay swallows, yet here they’ve succeeded, not only by venturing beyond their safety zone but by sticking to their guns. Rarely have I witnessed such cowardice when dealing with music appreciation, a subject that is supposed to be exciting for its diversity, by those who would kick a dead horse because people have been kicking it for years. What this pessimism toward Coldplay boils down to isn’t fame, but optimism; their “lifestyle music”, as once coined by Thom Yorke, has garnered so many devotees because its message is uplifting in a vein no different than the Beatles’ was. I’m glad Coldplay are here and I’m happy they aren’t perfect. People would only hate them more.

SUMMER 2008

Here we've returned to the humid nights of Summer... those glorious hours where we lie in front of humming fans and pray for unpredictable storms to light bedroom corners, catch our hearts deep in slumber. I planned on unveiling eight Summer albums (similar to the way I presented Spring 2008) but time hasn't been on my side lately. These three will have to do for now. Of course, where I'm headed, there should be no shortage of opportunities to post more Summer-oriented reviews...

Keep posted - I have a slew of new record reviews coming in the next few weeks. Take care and enjoy these nights.

Love SCQ.

Cold Roses - Ryan Adams and the Cardinals (SUMMER 2008)

Cold Roses

Ryan Adams and the Cardinals
Lost Highway Records.

SCQ Rating: 87%

2005 was a banner year for Ryan Adams, an artist who was as prolific in the studio as he was in short-lived celebrity relationships and creative abortions, namely because he stood by his vow to release three full-length albums within 9 months. That each of these records was well-received as glorious returns to roots-rock after what many considered to be an unwise venture into mope-rock territory certainly fanned the Cardinal flames. The first of these releases, Cold Roses, was unveiled the night I caught his live show and incidentally met him. The club was curiously sweaty for an early May evening but we soldiered through a variety of alt-country ramblings that would only become clear in the months to follow. All the while I listened in to early reviews of Cold Roses from fans in crowd who mythologized its greatness to strangers between songs. Even now, years later, I can feel the warmth and humidity in these songs, from the heavy pace of ‘Magnolia Mountain’ to ‘Meadowlake Street’s long-grass soliloquy.

I’d be shocked if Adams doesn’t feel the same; Cold Roses is chocked full of nature imagery to the point of overkill. In this rural landscape he has painted, every street is named after plants or fruit, any obstacles made of earth and stone, every girl a river or rose. Most every reference is indicative of his own newfound peace, an easy plateau, so to speak, after the tumultuous years of Love is Hell and Rock N Roll that reached climax when he severely broke his wrist during a stage-fall in early 2004. Newly subdued and reflective, ‘How Do You Keep Love Alive’ finds Adams completely at odds with his winking counterpart while ‘When Will You Come Back Home’ is a James Taylor cover waiting to happen (as my father accurately pinned). His serene disposition even touches on ideas of spirituality in ‘Life is Beautiful’, a song that speaks volumes when compared to ‘Fuck the Universe’, written not two years earlier.

The idea of a Ryan Adams double-album rang off as redundant in some circles who deemed much of his records excessive and poorly edited, but Cold Roses proves focused, not only in its Grateful Dead jam-ability sense, but because I can only find two songs I could bear to cut from this eighteen song-cycle. And when tracks like ‘Sweet Illusions’ and ‘Cherry Lane’ aren’t wooing you with their mid-tempo guitar licks, you’re staring in the headlights of ‘Let It Ride’, one of Adams’ best songs ever.

Those who attended that sweltering show and claimed the record’s brilliance were mostly prophets; die-hards who would rather play Adams’ least attractive live renditions than any music beyond his considerate catalogue. Besides, this record is too expansive and intertwined to be judged through one listen in a parked car. They were quiet, still, when grouped around Adams in a parking lot after the show, when two disappointed, RockNRoll-loving show-goers shouted at the drunken songwriter from afar. Truth is, Cold Roses will almost certainly shake loose any new fans who rocked-out to ‘So Alive’; it’s too comfortable in its cowboy boots and 70s vinyl for the cover of Spin. But to fans who’ve lamented for Adams to embrace his roots once more, Cold Roses is beautiful like a long-awaited visit home.

A Ghost is Born - Wilco (SUMMER 2008)

A Ghost is Born

Wilco
Nonesuch Records.

SCQ Rating: 97%

The tale and subsequent myth-making that Yankee Hotel Foxtrot garnered after their split from Warner Records is no longer a story but a saga; the crème of all press kits that turned a record (that had been streamed on Wilco’s website for free) into a classic and Wilco into art reconnoiters. The ruse – Warner Execs giving Wilco their own record, free of charge, and releasing them from their contract only to buy the record back on the band’s terms – was enough to blind every underdog-loving critic from doing their job. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was hailed as a rock record of the 21st Century, and rightly so (seeing as it was 2002 at the time), but its success also set the stage for what would come next: a new Wilco record, only without the David/Goliath backwash. You could almost hear all those newly sober critics creak their armchairs as they reached for red pens.

If the whole label debacle has proven anything, it’s that Wilco grew from the experience instead of simply cashing in. A Ghost is Born is brimming with ideas, equal parts novel and polarizing, that are seamed into a whole that few other bands could manage. The familiar draws to Wilco World are ever-present - all the ache of Tweedy’s desperation, expert musicianship – but intensified; where Yankee Hotel Foxtrot thrived on obscure experimentalism and lyrical fragments, A Ghost is Born is the return of the band, huddled around microphones and creating sounds together. Some of those sounds, like the electronic cut-up that blindsides ‘Handshake Drugs’ into oblivion, remain explicitly borrowed from electronica, but according to Tweedy, the record realigned all the Wilco mates to one studio room. The results are stirring: an eccentric song-cycle of electric rockers, lo-fi acoustics and experimental soundscapes that are all grounded and relatable under Tweedy’s well-honed talents. Even haters who found Tweedy’s new-found love for the guitar solo narcissistic have to appreciate the romantic stomp of ‘At Least That’s What You Said’, a track that opens in sparse piano with Tweedy whispering “I thought it was cute / for you to kiss / my purple black-eye / even though I caught it from you / I still think we’re serious,” before exploding into a bombastic release of thrashing electrics guitars.

If A Ghost is Born has any controversy, it’s because Tweedy booked himself into rehab mere days after the record’s release, citing self-medicating and pills as the issue. His diminishing health is audible on record; although his performances give no indication of trouble ahead, Tweedy’s malcontent is woven into both lyrics and music. No example is more glaringly evident than the twelve minutes of sonic layering that close ‘Less Than You Think’, which Tweedy claims is a recreation of the migraines he experienced throughout recording. His mental well-being was also under duress, as heard in the obsessive, ten minute ‘Spiders’ or the paranoid ‘Company in my Back’. Strange to think that despite these gloomy bits of trivia, A Ghost is Born remains a wonderful summer album, carrying little of the content’s burden and offering countless moments of art-rock beauty.

What makes this album one of SCQ’s all-time favourites is how versatile the material is: its sadness is uplifting, its restlessness is peaceful, its sonic ambitions are all over the place. My first taste of the album, ‘Hell is Chrome’, sent a shiver from its tastefully upbeat piano-trot. The ivories suddenly dropped into a jazz-torn heartbeat, where the electric sears in, crisp and mournful, breaking this peaceful dawn like a day’s first carhorn. Underappreciated but well-advanced from its celebrated predecessor, A Ghost is Born is Wilco’s crowning achievement; a record to fall in love with.

You Forgot It In People - Broken Social Scene (SUMMER 2008)

You Forgot It In People

Broken Social Scene
Arts and Crafts.

SCQ Rating: 93%

In the Spring of 2004, as ‘Almost Crimes’ was topping campus charts all over Canada, I was beginning my first and only bout of Summer School – a studio art credit to make up for a year of anthropology naps. Living in my student house without a roommate to speak of, I’d wander home from my nightclass to find every window black; an apartment waiting for someone to give it life. As fate would have it, this particular night found a burned copy of You Forgot It In People, scribbled over and tucked within a makeshift envelope, waiting under my door as well. In the coming weeks, each project my friend and I undertook – whether it included shoebox cameras, paint and canvas, or pencil sketches – were all completed to the Toronto collective’s breakthough effort; its endless flow from one song to another fit perfectly to the art we were creating.

The raw edges of ‘KC Accidental’ and ‘Almost Crimes’ slide euphorically into ‘Looks Just Like the Sun’ and ‘Pacific Theme’, the latter an impressive centerpiece that gradually proves far better than its elevator-inspired source material. What really makes You Forgot It In People a spectacular summer album isn’t the wonderful memories I’ve attached from that art-affected season, but the sun-kissed freedom it implies with each plucked banjo-string (‘Anthem for a Seventeen Year Old Girl’) or distorted Sonic Youth riff (‘Cause=Time’). No BSS-associated record has proven their power in numbers like this one, as each song melds styles, influences and instruments that only a focused troupe of so many could tightly pull together.

Despite the aforementioned euphoric sensations, You Forgot It In People erupts from a dark and slightly disturbed mindset. You can hear the drone beneath and between many of these sunny tracks; the dense hum of strange voices that cry under ‘Pacific Theme’, or the cathartic ramblings that litter ‘Shampoo Suicide’. If in doubt, look up some lyrics. Like the best works of art, You Forgot It In People cannot be easily-assessed; it's sweltering, dysfunctional stuff, and it's entirely brilliant.

Hercules and Love Affair - Hercules and Love Affair

Hercules and Love Affair

Hercules and Love Affair
DFA Records.

SCQ Rating: 80%

It’s curious to me how most people choose to illustrate the definition of ‘friendly competition’ by listing off brands for consumption. “You know, like, Coke VS Pepsi…” is likely the most common example, but for those born and neglected in the early 80s, the live-or-die-by competition was Sega Genesis and Nintendo. You knew what kids on the playground owned which systems, and more importantly, you had a fundamental belief in one system’s reign over the other. The idea of ‘friendly competition’ came back to me when listening to the entrancing maturity of Hercules and Love Affair, a record that shares much of the same crossover potential that made Sound of Silver such a rousing success for DFA last year. Anyway, if DFA was Sega Genesis, then LCD Soundsystem was Sonic the Hedgehog…; the flagship that gave DFA global notoriety but stood so far ahead of his peers, James Murphy started to look like the label misfit for being recognizable. And as anyone in their mid twenties knows, Sega went south because you need more than one successful title to make a system worthwhile. So all hail Hercules and Love Affair, an ensemble led by Andrew Butler who has emerged to raise the stakes (and maybe relieve the majority of DFA’s roster still treading water... c'mon Juan Maclean, where are you?).

It doesn’t take a long, hard look in the mirror to see why I scooped up the import-priced Hercules and Love Affair nearly two months ago. Truth is, no mention of disco, DFA head-honcho Tim Goldsworthy on the beats, or the incredible press that has followed could sell me on this album like Antony Hegarty did. One of my most exciting musical moments of 2008 has been hearing the man’s impeccable voice, used almost synonymously with quiet piano ballads, erupt over a burly disco bass and drum kicks; ‘Blind’ is truly one of those songs that knocks the wind out of you for the sake of appreciating that first desperate breath of air again. And in many ways, Hercules and Love Affair belongs to Antony, who’s pipes carry many of these songs from enjoyable club fare into classic dance territory.

For an album that adheres to so many of disco’s prime principles, I find it exciting to note that they’ve steered clear of disco’s great weakness: excess. While such a wide array of vocal contributors could’ve been the smoke and mirrors to disguise recycled ideas, Butler never disappoints with songwriting that should, with any justice, lend his name to the ranks of dance music’s contemporary elite. His arrangements, equipped with Goldsworthy on drum patterns and a full-on funky brass section, ensure that each song - even those that lack a sensational finish - are exciting to listen to. Additional vocalist Kim Ann Foxman (who may be/sounds exactly like I Am the World Trade Center) lends an essential but muted presence in several key songs, ‘Athene’ and the comedown highlight, ‘Iris’. If the record has a fault, it’s in the sequencing, which finds the latter half struggling to keep up with an absurdly wonderful first half.

That “Coke VS Pepsi” example is worth revisiting, however, as myth has it Pepsi was invented to rival Coke by John Pemberton, the same man who invented Coke. What? Yes… after all, when you stumble onto a winning ticket and patent it, why not beat your potential rip-off artists to the punch? This useless piece of fraudulent trivia isn’t meant to imply that Hercules and Love Affair have much of anything, beyond critical success, in common with LCD Soundsystem; in fact, quite the opposite. With this debut, DFA have found themselves home to a new generation of Massive Attack, an emotionally aware group of artists on the cutting edge of a growing sexual revolution. Their influences may be decades old, but their message is assuredly progressive. That indie fans are flocking to this album in the same fashion as they did to LCD’s old-school impertinence is an unexpected but important achievement for DFA; a label that suddenly appears insidiously multifaceted.

Seeing Things - Jakob Dylan

Seeing Things

Jakob Dylan
Columbia Records.

SCQ Rating: 75%

Anyone who has closely followed Jakob Dylan’s output from his duties as lone-songwriter/vocalist/ guitarist of the Wallflowers saw this coming a mile away. From their breakthrough, Bringing Down the Horse, to their review-unworthy Rebel, Sweetheart, Jakob sounded most at home on the hushed folk songs that litter the Wallflowers discography. You name it: ‘Josephine’, ‘Three Marlenas’, ‘Mourning Train’, and ‘Up From Under’ were all tender reminders that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and although Dylan tried his hand at studio experiments (on Red Letter Days) and straight-on radio rock, the results often seemed nearly spiteful of what Jakob was meant to be: a folk singer. So after three years of silence, Dylan Jr. re-emerges with a humble set of sparse tunes, heartfelt and delicate, with Rick Rubin at the production helm.

Although opener ‘Evil is Alive and Well’ offers little lyrical insight beyond its title, it sets a somber tone of lonely acoustic guitar, the echoes of a second six-string, and Dylan’s voice so front and center, you can hear every grain in his aching. Moreover, ‘Evil is Alive…’ cleans the slate, closing the door on the last of the Wallflowers’ easy-listening, lite-rock and introducing a gritty collection that finds Dylan among his blue-collar heroes and singing songs that get people through the day. His lyrics praise the workingman’s pride as often as it derails the current political picture in America, but details are thankfully scarce in the latter subject, allowing Seeing Things to merely make mention to the troubled times we live in and skip the ill-advised scope of a ‘political album’. And while ‘Valley of the Low Sun’ and the bluesy ‘All Day and All Night’ offer refreshing comparison points to the Springsteen spirit, Seeing Things gets stronger in its second half, with the back-to-back sunshine of ‘War is Kind’ and ‘Something Good This Way Comes’.

What strikes me deepest about this album, and its distance from Dylan’s Wallflowers range, isn’t the material itself but its delivery. Many of these compositions are typical Jakob Dylan fare, accomplished but content in their general restlessness, but what makes Seeing Things Dylan’s finest collection of songs since 2000’s Breach lies in Dylan’s growth as an artist. While listening to ‘Will It Grow’ for the first time, I realized that Dylan couldn’t have sang it ten years ago, when the Wallflowers were at the top of alternative rock charts. He simply didn’t have the vocal chops or vision to see a song of that caliber’s through to completion. And perhaps he needed to feel the abandon of Rebel, Sweetheart’s creative dead-end (assisted handily by Brenden O'Brien in one of the lamest production jobs I’ve heard) to realize he should set out on his own with Rubin providing his less-is-more aesthetic. Whatever Dylan’s reasoning, Seeing Things benefits from those key decisions and feels like the prodigal son returning, more than it really deserves.