Sybris - Sybris (Flameshovel; 2005)

This is the second addition to my series of Chicago artists. Sybris is scheduled to appear at Lollapalooza 2006, and are among my current most listened to artists.

When a full length album only has nine tracks listed on the packaging, I the expect the music to either be not fully realized, or maybe too stretched out for its own good. Fortunately, that is not the case with Sybris’ debut album. The band knows exactly what they want to be, and they prove it on each of those nine tracks. The album liner has crayon drawings of a bird (which is the only cliché thing about this album, due to the endless usage of birds by bands lately). But on the cover a wolf is confronting the bird, and everywhere else the bird flies free. Is this a statement about the band and how they currently feel?

Sybris draws on various musical eras, specifically 60’s folk, late 80’s indie rock, and early 90’s dream pop. Angela Mullenhour’s vocals call to mind Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, but with a more sincere approach. However, there are really few bands that Sybris actually resembles (My Bloody Valentine and Sonic Youth included).

The album opens with waxing noise. “Best Day in History Ever” plays at first like post-hardcore before opening up to a bombastic shoegazing climax. “Breathe Like You’re Dancing” follows a similar formula, starting with a tight verse structure, and changes tempos more than once, exploding at the close. “Neon” has a Pixies-type punch but with a more modern, hazy quality.

The dynamic instrumental arrangements invite you in, and Mullenhour’s voice closes the deal. She has a sexy tease to her voice that can only come naturally. Often, Sybris’s music is deceptive. Just when you think they are about to tread down a familiar path, they surprise you. Each song winds around itself and explores the entire realm of that sound. The good in that is that you never tire of a song before it’s over. You’re actually left wanting more, only satisfied by repeat listening. The greatest accomplishment of Sybris is that it isn’t quite like anything currently going on right now. Sure, there are moments that sound like other bands, but they’ve really claimed a place that they can hold for themselves. Although this album feels like an accomplishment, it shows even more potential. I’m already excited to see what comes next from this group, and to see how they pull off a live show.

Langhorne Slim - When the Sun's Gone Down (Narnack; 2005)

(Note to readers - I originally prepared this review for a Pitchfork Media writer submission. However, I have gotten no response from them, so I'm going to display it on here. Anyways, I need to stop calling these reviews. The word "review" implies that I'm rating the work. In reality, what I hate about music journalism is the assertion of opinion. Of course, it's impossible for me to talk about music without expressing my opinion. But I hold a firm belief that music is a personal experience. What music does to me is not what it will do to anyone else. And Langhorne Slim does a lot for me. So here's my "review," and please notice the omission of an actual scaled rating.)

Langhorne Slim’s 2005 release When The Sun’s Gone Down inhabits a section of the record store not often visited by music buyers. That is the Insurgent Country section. Given the small exposure that most have to this tiny characterization of music, a passionate listener becomes so inclined to dig deep and see what this stuff is all about. For starters, the sticker on the album cover displays the term “foot-stompin’.”

With further investigation, we find that Langhorne Slim migrated from rural Pennsylvania to the hustle and bustle of Brooklyn. Fortunately, that is the exact notion evoked by the music. The DIY quality is consistently apparent as well (listen for a strange boom at the end of “By The Time The Suns Gone Down”). Langhorne Slim has claimed a preference for recording in city apartments over an actual recording studio.

One of the stand-out features of the album is the vocals. At times reminiscent of Jack White, but at times an entirely unique entity, Slim’s singing is extremely engaging and entertaining. The sounds also bring to mind Americana acts like The Pogues (but minus the Irish-punk vocals), and current eclectic northwesterners, the Decemberists.

Only the lyrics to “Checking Out” are displayed in the folding case. In this song, Slim describes feeling out of place and missing home, which is common for anyone who’s made the transition to big city life. This, accompanied by an illustration of Slim following a sort of Noah’s Ark wedding procession, suggests that he’s become lost in the madness of New York while trying to expose his music to the world.

Most of the songs are quick and to the point, each one a small treat leaving you hungrier for the next morsel. The album opens with a couple hoedown rockers (“In The Midnight,” “Set Em Up”) which set the stage well for what’s to come. “I Love to Dance” is really the only song that carries a blues progression, despite Slim’s claim to have had the blues since his high school days. The crazy howl at the end of “Drowning” is straight out of a western saloon when most have already moseyed on home. “I Will” is one of a batch of songs which offer romantic gestures. However, his breeziness slightly discredits his message (or maybe he’s drank too much whiskey to care anymore).

Gone Down quickly works into a pattern of upbeat, multi-instrumental tracks followed by stripped down acoustic tracks. This formula keeps the folk-blues elements at the forefront and holds the attention of the audience well. And while it’s the guitar and vocals that drive most tracks, the addition of a dozen other musicians and instruments is what really brings this work to life. Banjo, slide guitar, upright bass, and organ are just some of the tasty tools employed here.

It seems that Langhorne Slim is struggling to find his place in the ever progressing present day, while bringing along what matters most to him. In this light, Gone Down is the result of placing a backwoods blues artist in America’s indie rock mecca. The album feels like the golden days at the end of summer, before the first cool breezes of autumn tease us or the leaves begin to change. When The Sun’s Gone Down is a reminder to relax, dance for a while, taste the homemade pie, enjoy the company. Don’t let a moment of these classic days escape you before the world enters its time of slumber. Sometimes it feels like we’re all stuck in a grandiose spectacle of a parade or lost in the jungle that is the modern world. However, Langhorne Slim proves that you can still have a good time and make the best of things…even if you do have the blues.

Radiohead - OK Computer (Capitol; 1997)

(I wrote this review in two parts. There were a few weeks between due to changing apartments and adopting a dog. It’s still not completely finished, but I’d like to post it anyway. I’m not sure that I would ever finish talking about this album, because I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand it.)

Growing up in the 90’s was odd. There were no great social movements, no epic wars, nothing to set the decade apart in a historic way from any other era (except a growing fear of the new millennium). From a musical perspective, things were looking vile. Legions of Nirvana copycats rampaged. The internet had been birthed by 1997, but was not extremely accessible (i.e. cable modems) until around 1999. As a result, finding independent music was extremely difficult unless you lived among a great music scene, had a college radio station nearby, or a very knowledgeable older sibling. I had none of the three.

By some terrible misfortune, I didn’t actually purchase this album until 2005. Shame on me. When I finally did buy it, I looked through the album insert. What I saw was absolute chaos. Burning airplanes, a Jesus statue, super highways, misspelled lyrics, and general messiness. When I look back on the mid-90’s, I think the insert matches the general state of things. But then I begin to wonder if that sort of messiness could be unique to any single timeframe. It seems that in every decade there are those who are more aware of the chaotic elements of human society and who are unable to cope with or improve it. Maybe OK Computer was just the epitome of that feeling wrought through music in this time and place. By “place”, I mean outside of America. After all, this album made Radiohead ridiculously popular in the U.S., which shows that although not all people can relate to these sounds and ideas, they are definitely not confined to any single time or place (although they could hold truest in the “democracies” of the U.S. and England).

The album begins with “Airbag,” the perfect introduction to the off-kilter Brit rock that the listener is about to encounter. In less than ten sentences, Yorke describes the disarray that society was moving towards as timed ticked away towards the new millennium. Topics such as war, commercialism, and materialism are touched upon, but in a way that suggests the possibility of overcoming these things. “Paranoid Android” goes through a few distinct movements, including a standard Radiohead guitar rock anthem and a bossa nova acoustic passage. This track also includes the most notable quote of the entire album (“When I am king you will be first against the wall”), and embodies the helplessness so common among people who desire change. “Subterranean Homesick Alien” is a breakthrough for the group, combining sensual keyboards, swooshing guitars, and lyrics about alienation from your environment and peers. The song suggests that Yorke would feel more at home with invaders from space than with the people he’s known his whole life. “Exit Music (For a Film)” demonstrates the sheer power of Yorke’s voice. Close your eyes and imagine a dream (or nightmare) where you try to escape a pursuing foe, hand in hand with the only friend in the world you can trust. “Let Down” goes best with the album artwork; both depict the cluttered world from a person’s everyday point of view. The song points out that life is overwhelming and we’re often let down in our ambitions, but there is still some hope that comes from the utter spectacle that is the world.

“Karma Police” is one of the most recognizable acoustic guitar-driven epics of the 1990’s. Although the musical equation is not a breakthrough by any means, the track is a prime example of the mastery of subtleties shown throughout the album. “Fitter Happier” obviously doesn’t fit in musically with the rest of the album, but is a reflection of the robotic mindlessness displayed by masses of people day in and day out. “Electioneering” blares with the audacity of the greatest British rock, and might be the closest tie musically to Radiohead’s earlier work. “Climbing Up The Walls” is a statement about fear, but mostly from the public perspective and not as it is used by governments to maintain control (but that could spur a “chicken or egg” debate in contemplating which came first). The song is chilling with its buzzing bass progression that opens into an alarming final passage. The video for “No Suprises” will always be remembered as a steady shot of Thom Yorke’s (rather ugly) face in a container filling up with water, only to release and let him breathe at the very end. The xylophone and guitars ring together to create a gentle lull that almost erases the previous song, like a political leader covering up a really nasty secret. “Lucky” provides one of many allusions to airplanes and crashes. Yorke speaks of walking away from a crash as if he hopes to escape the disasterous modern day scene. “The Tourist” is another double sided story. Is Yorke a lost tourist in the seemingly foreign world around him? Or is this just a commentary on the inability of humans to acclimate to things that they don’t understand (displayed in this case by a frustrated tourist)?

I may have gotten carried away in covering each specific song, but I felt that it was necessary. I always knew that this album was magnificent, but I had never taken the time to read the words and really think about the work as a whole. It is only at this point that I can fully understand why this is considered by many to be the best album of the last twenty-five years. Radiohead succeeds in sounding like nothing ever before, while still sticking to the basic guidelines of 90’s British rock. The album shifts between pessimism and optimism throughout. What really makes the difference on this album is the little things. The sounds that you can’t label as any specific instrument. The layers that peel away with each successive listen. The dual meanings and bold ideas of Yorke’s lyrics. The passion that comes alive in every moment of recorded sound.

OK Computer is a modern masterpiece. Radiohead probably knew well before all the critical and commercial approval that it would be near impossible to top or recreate this work. What they would need is a reinvention, and that is exactly what came three years later. But that is a different story…

An Ode to Wolfie

I know what you're thinking. "Why hasn't Nick posted anything lately? What am I going to do with my time besides read the blog over and over and over again."

....Okay, so maybe no one even reads this. But either way, I thought I should explain the current drought of material. On March 27, I adopted a dog from the Chicago Animal Control. They had named him Wolfie (picture left) and I probably won't change it. He's a chow/lab mix 1 year old male, about 45 lbs. And he rules. I saved him from certain death and/or dumb owners. So this week has been kind of like having a little kid live with me. Granted, he's a lot better than I would have expected. He's well behaved (except for the standard young dog things like jumping up to see what's on the kitchen counters) and he bonded to me almost immediately.

He enjoys the finer things in life...like rawhides, long walks on the waterfront, and sniffing butts. He is a perfect example of why you should never get a dog from a pet shop or breeder. Go to a damn shelter and adopt a dog. If you choose wisely, it will be very rewarding (and $100's less than the other option). Do it.

In other news, I'm moving to my own apartment on Saturday, April 1st. So once I get settled there I'll probably start writing again. Then again, maybe I should figure out where my life is heading first, and then get back to writing. We'll see.

My Bloody Valentine - Loveless (Sire; 1991)

The next album in this series is maybe the last to be included in my collective of favorite albums. My Bloody Valentine released Loveless in 1991 (which means I was only about 9 years old and completely unaware that such music existed). The group defines shoe-gazing dream pop on this, their masterpiece and, ultimately, their swan song. Listening to Loveless for the first time is like accidentally figuring out how to control your dreams, allowing you to fly over the earth in a cloudy, “Care Bear” adventure. From up above in this mystical, heavenly landscape you can look down at the seemingly peaceful Earth and watch all the microscopic inhabitants go about their daily routines. Then, before you know it, your eyes open and you’re in your bed. But you’re not alone, not startled by an alarm clock. You’re awoken by your lover, who is gently brushing your hair and looking into your eyes. And that’s just in the album’s first 30 seconds.

There is a sense of mystery and wonder constantly present in My Bloody Valentine’s music. The vocals are often indiscernible and usually blend into the many layers of each song (and to my knowledge, there’s no credible source of the actual lyrics). However, the songs still manage to convey emotions and create pictures in your mind. The record requires many listens to hear everything incorporated into each work of art. Sometimes you’ll hear three or four overlapping, swaying guitars. Sometimes the synths stick out and other times it’s the eerie backing vocals. But with each listen you gain a greater sense of the tireless effort that went into making this album.

Each song carries its own weight as an individual exploration within the confines of this unique world the group has created. Each track is a bold experiment in sound, but the music is never imposing. What ultimately happens is up to the listener. The album opens with “Only Shallow,” and you’re immediately sucked into a world of lush, provocative sounds before you can really figure out what you’re listening to. “Come in Alone” just feels downright sexy. “Sometimes” is a standout track (and was perfectly placed in the film Lost in Translation). “Soon” is probably the strongest song on the record, with swooning guitars and clomping drums. In the end, words can’t describe Loveless, no matter hard one tries (which is probably a reason why most lyrics are inaudible). It is losing virginity, laying on the beach, running barefoot in the grass, rolling in the snow, spooning on a cold winter night, and a million other things all rolled into 11 tracks.

There really aren’t high or low points in the record. Every song is an experience to be had on its own, but fits perfectly into the overall mood. The group demonstrates a mastery of flow. You get drawn into a certain state of mind, but you don’t become numb. You start to understand. You understand the band, you understand music, you understand nature, you understand life. You also understand that the band might have been on some really wild drugs while making this album. Unfortunately, most people will never even be exposed to the treasure that is Loveless (except, for some odd reason, certain mid 90’s mainstream acts like the Smashing Pumpkins and Garbage). But even those who are exposed probably won’t take the time to see what it’s all about. However, those who do hear it and let it affect them will be forever changed. In just under an hour, you’ll be taken to a childhood summer day when you’re chasing kids in the park, then to a naked lover’s embrace in a big comfy bed…all while walking the fuzzy line between reality and dreams. Although the album has a somber name, Loveless is a testament to what is beautiful in life. Or even what could be beautiful and perfect, even if you don’t have it now. It’s a simultaneous display of hope and despair. And really, what is truer than that?