Sunday, April 26, 2009

Patrick Wolf--The Bachelor: He’s Not Morrissey. He’s a Very Naughty Boy!

Slightly over a month ago, a Patrick Wolf Myspace bulletin touting a new controversial video was circulated among Wolf’s social networking fans. As Wolf’s S&M profile picture foreshadowed, this video was going to be sexually explicit in nature.

What the profile picture did not reveal was that the song it was promoting, “Vulture,” would be such a letdown musically. Although, what with all the leather thonged pastiness of Torture Wolf, as well as his other role in the video as a platinum blonde Morrissey and also what appears to be a terribly belated screen test for Lord of the Rings, it’s difficult to even really focus on the song. "Vulture" is a jarring little tune about having sex with Satanists and sounds a bit like a less bratty, more forced version of “Sex Dwarf.” And I will say right now, Marc Almond was alluring for all of one point five minutes, and still, I’d rather he pour all his suggestiveness into that “It’s a…hard..less-sun…lesson leaaaarned” line whilst prancing about in a leather codpiece than young, pasty Patrick Wolf here.

Still, I tried to give the song some slack. Maybe, in the context of Wolf’s forthcoming album, The Bachelor, the song would seem more at home. Well was I ever wrong. Taken with the rest of the album, it’s just one of many moments of wasted potential.

Whatever criticisms one may have about Wolf’s previous effort, The Magic Position, taken as a whole the songs flowed together perfectly. The Bachelor has a definite connecting thread, yet it’s harder to follow as, musically, the songs don’t cohere as well. Listeners who are reluctant to pay attention to the lyrics on the first few listens may feel like Wolf has just presented them with a bunch of ballads that have been produced to hell, interspersed with some really jarring electro shit to keep them on their toes.

Even those of us who are adept at picking up on lyrics in songs and concepts in albums, after deciphering the words to some of these, we may be cozying up to regret. Earnestness does have its place, but sincerity can easily turn soppy in the wrong hands. If Wolf had exercised some restraint, songs like "Blackdown" and “The Sun is Often Out” could have been very emphatic, but the lyrics are so self-pitying, then schmaltzy, all I can picture is Wolf’s protagonist crying sissy tears of glitter into a very reflective lake.

Another area where Wolf could do with exercising restraint is in the amount of strings needed for any particular song. This album is glutted with them, and in the process the songs suffer. When Wolf lays off the strings a bit, the music careens into video game soundtrack territory, but for the most part this move works. “Oblivion” is arguably one of his best songs, on this or any of his other three releases. When Tilda Swinton--who appears throughout the album as a voice of reason or something--comes in, she runs the risk of sounding like a fairy guide presenting Wolf’s protagonist with a series of challenges. But somehow, perhaps thank to Wolf’s deft vocals, the song comes out a winner. “Count of Casualty” makes one wonder if Wolf is playing Tetris with Of Montreal circa Sunlandic Twins, but again, the song turns out to be poignant and not ridiculous. Likewise, the yearn and burn of “Who Will” works until it reaches its big sweeping power outro, complete with gratuitous choir that keeps popping up throughout the record with no invitation.

That choir, as well as those pesky strings, ruins “Damaris,” which, would the production have been played down, had potential to blast a listener’s heart into a billion specks. But no, Wolf had to bring in an avalanche of strings, a drum machine set to “melodrama,” and an indie choir bigger than Polyphonic Spree plus their extended family. Shit! I just can’t help imagining how beautiful and devastating this song would have been, had it consisted solely of one string instrument, a piano, and Wolf’s rich, capable voice. That he went the grandiose way just makes me want to break something; that weird, triangular thing behind Wolf on the album cover would do. It might make the thing look a little less busy.

Level of Disappointment: 8; if he would have toned down the fruity lovechild of Kate Bush and Scott Walker sound, he would have really had something here.

Watch: "The Libertine" (from Wind in the Wires).
This is what Patrick Wolf is capable of when he practices a little self-control.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

PJ Harvey & John Parish--A Woman A Man Walked By: PJ Yet Again Causes 94% of all Alt Rockers to Walk Home with Tails Between Legs

Not to give away this review’s conclusion or anything, but PJ Harvey is my reference point for what a cool person should be. Yet, I can still admit that not everything she releases is pure wonderment. Although wholly representational of a talented, brilliant, and glamorous woman during the Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea era, the corresponding album had a lot of lulls cowering behind its bigger, better songs. Likewise, the Mrs. Havisham look of White Chalk--her last release--was brilliant; the album, however, was unsatisfying despite its venturousness
.

Still, it is always exciting to see where Harvey will take us next, even when she’s acting as the other half of a collaboration. This latest collaboration--with guitarist John Parish, in a follow-up to their album Dance Hall at Louse Point--does not maintain one straight style. The album feels like an inventory of Harvey’s past dabbles; a big cleaning out to decide where to take us listeners next.

And this, my friends, is why it’s fucking stupid this album is getting such lackluster reviews. This isn’t a PJ Harvey solo album; she shares the cover with a dude--see? So, stop treating it like it’s got to have some overarching theme. Have you learned nothing from Dance Hall? As a whole, that album is an extreme grower. Besides, A Woman A Man Walked By improves on that previous outing by leaps and bounds, which is the main requirement a follow-up must accomplish.

Not only does A Woman A Man Walked By improve upon the previous collaboration, but it improves upon White Chalk as well. Softer tracks, such as “Leaving California,” and the album’s closer, “Cracks in the Canvas,” offer glimpses at what the piano-heavy album could have been, should Harvey have given herself a slightly less restrictive approach to the thing. Cushioned between an array of characters, the higher singing register she adopted would have perhaps been easier to acquaint one’s ears with. It’s really a shame a song like A Woman’s “April,” sung in a croak which instantly paints a clarion picture of a spindly old woman, would have fit perfectly with the spinster pall White Chalk cast.

Louse Point’s greatest track--arguably--was “Taut,” perhaps the most terrifying song Harvey has ever released. Although nothing on A Woman A Man Walked By surpasses “Taut” in scares, there are a few tracks which equal and improve upon its shocks. The title track, now oft-quoted, has Harvey stating some facts about an ex-lover in monotone before going all Diamanda Galas on us listeners. The track then meanders into“The Crow Knows Where All the Little Children Go,” an instrumental every bit as foreboding as the title might suggest. “Pig Will Not”--which the liner notes indicate is inspired by a Baudelaire poem called “The Rebel,” features Harvey barking like a dog, and really, it’s right up there with Kate Bush braying like a donkey in “Get Out of My House.” I haven’t even mentioned the album’s first single, “Black Hearted Love,” yet, but what can you really say? It’s an old, unreleased gem, and we should all thank Harvey and Parish for pulling it out and dusting it off.

The grab bag nature of A Woman A Man Walked By leaves the listener with a searing curiosity for what mode PJ Harvey chooses to assume next. I suggest we all gather round and pull straws to see who gets dibs on shining her shoes, which undoubtedly will be just as exquisite as her voice and the sounds that will accompany it.

Level of Disappointment: 3;I’m really only disappointed by the video for “Black Hearted Love,” which was directed by infamous British artists Jake and Dinos Chapman, yet features no disfigured clowns nor children with penises for noses.

Watch: "Black Hearted Love" official video

Read: "The Rebel" by Charles Baudelaire

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Yeah Yeah Yeahs--It's Blitz!: I don't love you like Pitchfork loves you

Oh look! It's the Rock Chick, the Goth, and--thanks to being in a band with two stereotypes--the one who is often mistaken for a nerd! Yeah Yeah Yeahs are back with a new, shiny, slightly anachronistic dance rock style that the critics are just jizzing themselves over. A band that in the past could do no wrong critically, the adoration for Yeah Yeah Yeahs has grown so rampant--and my own feelings about It's Blitz! have been so lukewarm--that I feel something about my taste is even more askew than previously supposed. I just can't love It's Blitz!, and it's not like I haven't been trying. I cannot hate it either, however, because I know the band has got talent and I've still got a soft spot for Brian Chase.

It's rare that an album enraptures me from the very first listen, so I've been extra patient with this, listening to it in many different settings and moods. I'm up to my fifth or sixth listen by now and in an insular state at the moment, and still, nothing. The only songs that have really aroused me enough to want to queue them up over and over are the first two tracks--"Zero" and "Heads Will Roll"--two songs I absolutely hated on first listen. Multiple listenings have caused the tables to turn in other ways as well, as I had completely forgotten about and was taken aback my initial favorite track, "Dragon Lady," when it shimmied into my ears on this latest listen. Most of the tracks in between had just plain been forgotten about.

Yet, I wouldn't necessarily tag "Zero" and "Heads Will Roll" with loving adjectives and praises. The epic roller disco outro to "Zero" still makes me hang my head and moan into my hands "Whatever happened to my Yeah Yeah Yeahs?" each time I hear it. I don't really see how the command to "Dance 'til you're dead" in "Heads Will Roll" is that different from ordering a listener to party 'til they puke. Similarly, "Hysteric" is one of the album's stronger songs, but we've all heard that "You suddenly complete me" line before, and we don't care to be reminded where. Herein lies my main problem with the album; I fail to hear much freshness in either the sound or the sentiments. Dancing is fun and lovely, we all know that, I just feel It's Blitz is largely not expressing this in a very intriguing way.

In spite of my complaints, I don't necessarily want Yeah Yeah Yeahs to return to the beer-spitting, two-instrument noisiness of the Fever to Tell days. If I took It's Blitz! at face value, I'd probably like it. Nor do I find the stylistic leap all that jarring; the progression from Show Your Bones to this isn't exactly the span of the Williamsburg bridge.

In order for Yeah Yeah Yeahs to keep going, it was almost mandatory that they evolve their sound. I just feel they could have taken a more creative route than stockpiling vintage synthesizers, which they then strapped to some fabulous disco mule. Another band that started out with a scuzz-rock sound and then applied some beats to it is The Kills, whose Midnight Boom is still scuzzy and sexy, but also mature; and I'd rather listen to it any day than It's Blitz. Sorry.

Level of Disappointment (scale of 1--10; 1=not disappointing at all; 10=extremely disappointing): 6; To be honest, after Show Your Bones I really wasn't expecting much. And, yeah, the album cover is awesome and gives good warning that the album may have a New Order bent.

Watch: Yeah Yeah Yeahs on Jools Holland--"Heads Will Roll"