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entonceslaluna
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Name: Lindsey
Country: United States
State: Tennessee
Metro: Chattanooga
Birthday: 8/26/1985
Gender: Female
Interests: music, mandolin, going to shows, reading, writing, photography, 80's movies, words, salsa dancing, traveling, learning spanish, juanes
Expertise: acting like a total goof
Occupation: Student
Industry: Media
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  ewol26
Member Since:
5/13/2005
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| there are a lot of assholes in the world. we should try not to add to the asshole population. | | |
| Long described as a "musical chameleon," Beck is known for stitching together rap/spoken-verse lyrics, crazy percussion beats and electronic sound effects that whisk him into a genre all his own.
Beck worked on his ninth album, "The Information," with acclaimed record producer Nigel Godrich who is known for his collaborations with bands like Radiohead and U2. Godrich produced Beck's 1998 and 2002 releases, "Mutations" and "Sea Change," so every Beck junkie should know to expect good things from these two.
This Oct. 3 release could be described as an artfully constructed montage of Beck's previous records, providing listeners with the soul-searching quality of "Sea Change," the folkiness of "Mutations" and the hip-hop flavor that creeps into parts of "Odelay."
Don't worry, none of the album's 15 tracks feel at all tired or played out. In fact, I found each song instantly favorable and fresh. The entire record has an otherworldly sound, and Beck is successful in proving his musical genius to us once again.
Notable tracks include "Elevator Music," which has an ethic feel that shows itself in sitar form during the chorus, "1000 Bpm," an in-your-face freestyle flow over clanging percussion beats and "Strange Apparition," a song driven by piano, and harmonious, layered vocals.
You can watch a few music videos on www.beck.com, including one for the song "No Complaints," which has a carefree, strummy folk sound and a whistled melody tossed in for good measure. While you're poking around the site, check out the video for "Nausea," which serves as the "Black Tambourine" of this album. (This guy really is "the enchanting wizard of rhythm.")
"Nausea," like many other cuts on the album, exposes Beck for the lyrical mastermind he is; "I'm a seasick sailor on a ship of noise/ I got my maps all backwards and my instincts poisoned/ In a truth blown gutter full of wasted years/ Like blown-out speakers ringing in my ears." Glorious.
Beck's mess-with-your-head lyrics are part of what makes his music so distinct. I think this is why the honesty and simplicity of his lyrics for the song "Think I'm in Love" are so bracing; a stark contrast is created. In the chorus Beck plainly says "She doesn't know what happens when she's around/ I think I'm in love, but it makes me kinda nervous to say so." This is a statement so obvious it almost comes back full-circle to insightful. I love it.
Currently, my favorite track on "The Information" is "Dark Star." It starts out with a murky sounding rap sequence that drags a bit over a rumbling bass line, and the chorus has a spatial sound with eerie, minor-keyed violin accompaniment.
About halfway into "Dark Star," Beck smacks you with a completely unexpected, and frankly out of place, blues harmonica break. This is a move that demanded extreme bravado. But trust me, he makes it work. The bass line turns to funk style, and the bayou harmonica melody sends you straight into foot-tapping mode.
I have to say, I think "The Information" may very well be my top-rated Beck album, and coming from me, that is a rather weighty statement. Beck has been one of my favorite artists since my older sister bought "Mellow Gold" in 1994. That's over a decade of Beck-loving. So believe me when I say this record is a must-have. And look at it this way; if you hate it, at least it comes with a DVD of trippy, psychedelic music videos, and a booklet of stickers instead of humdrum liner notes.
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| I don't really listen to a whole lot of metal, so I guess this is why my newfound love for the Australian band Wolfmother is somewhat surprising. I bought the album, and promptly began unwrapping it so I could listen to it in the trusty Camry stereo on the drive home.
It took all of 5 seconds for me to decide I was completely stoked on it. The first, and quite possibly my favorite, song on Wolfmother's self-titled album is called "Dimension." It begins with a scream of sorts from lead singer/guitarist, Andrew Stockdale, whose voice seemed instantly familiar.
I have to say, Wolfmother immediately reminded me of several of my favorite bands. Their sound is like a brilliant fusion of music by the White Stripes, the Mars Volta, and, yes, the end all be all, Led Zeppelin. At times, Stockdale's voice sounds remarkably Robert Plant-esque, and the entire band has an overtone that mirrors the great rock bands of the 70s.
The aforementioned track, "Dimension," does a good job of setting the tone for the album. The chorus has a particular ascending then descending guitar riff (at 0:50, and several times after) that pretty much blows my mind. It's not that the riff is technically difficult; it's just that it is tastefully badass.
I also really love the lyrics of this song, "I got lost in the desert, baby / I found temples made out of paper, oh yeah / I had to write something down / but then I found myself alone / Then I let go of everything / In to another dimension." Oh, and Stockdale puts out the serious Robert Plant vibes pretty much every time he sings "baby"Â or "oh yeah." It's amazing.
Track 5, "Apple Tree," is also one of my current favorites on the record. The first time I listened to the song, I noticed that there was an undeniable White Stripes feel to it. I could actually envision Jack White playing and singing this. Even the lyrics exude a certain raw, Jack Whiteness. (And just a side note: Though I do love Meg White, I must say that Wolfmother's drummer, Myles Heskett, is decidedly more competent.)
It's near the end of "Apple Tree" that Wolfmother really lets you have it. It's as if they're saying, "We're not kidding around."
Around 2:43, the tone of Stockdale's guitar completely changes and he pulls out this thick, dirty sound. I have to say, it's so good it almost feels sinful.
The next song, "Joker & the Thief," kicks off with a flowing guitar melody and a sound that is more metal and less rock. Less than a minute in, there is an abrupt shift and it's back to the gritty rock and roll this group does so well. Later on, there's another transition into that initial guitar riff, and back and forth they go. I think the changes work well, and keep things moving.
Though Wolfmother has a retro sound, they are by no means lacking in originality. They have a certain jam-band quality, and their album radiates with that live-show feeling. I have not had the chance to see them live, but I suspect their shows are two things: very fun and very loud.
If you dig Zeppelin, check out Wolfmother. It you're amped on the White Stripes, give this band a listen. I don't think you'll be let down.
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| As I ardently watched Chris Thile, I could hardly believe the extent of his talent. While he seduced the crowd with his precision and intensity, something in me changed.
I had always been aware of my passion for music. I loved listening, playing, catching shows, and talking about music with anyone that would listen. Mention the words "mandolin" or "bluegrass" and my verbosity will expose itself in a hurry. Then again, it is only natural to rant about the things you love.
Still, it wasn't until that night, at that show, that I really understood the magnitude of my passion. Until that night, I thought music was something I loved; however, what I came to realize is that music plays a colossal role in defining my very character. Music isn't merely something I enjoy; I breathe it. It makes me think, helps me understand life, and people, and God.
Music mimics life. One of my favorite writers, Jack Kerouac, wrote, "Stop breathing for stillness and you'll hear your heart beat---being sentient thou movest, and being of this world thou movest in rhythm, even your pain is in rhythm. As Kerouac asserts, we are rhythmic beings. Our speech and writing patterns have specific meter. We walk in rhythm. Our hearts beat, and blood pumps through our veins. Thus the basic functioning of our bodies creates rhythm, pace, beat, measure, cadence, tempo, time.
Since we are essentially human instruments, living in time, it is not hard to understand why music compels us so. I think this close tie humans have to music is a large part of why it stirs us. Music makes us feel something. It helps bring the subconscious to the conscious.
Maybe this isn't some grand epiphany. Maybe it is something I always knew; I just didn't know I knew it. It's as if I had to see that particular concert, and hear those particular songs. I had to watch Chris Thile's long, thin fingers meander effortlessly over the strings of his Dudenbostal mandolin. I had to observe the Nickel Creek chemistry that came over the stage that night. I studied these young musicians as they created layers and layers of notes, and something in me was awakened.
If you listen to a Nickel Creek album, you can hear a youthful superiority in their instrumentation; however, until you've seen the trio perform, it's impossible to fully understand the scope of their genius. Fiddle and guitar players, Sara and Sean, are excessively skilled. Still, it is Thile, no doubt, that demands the attention of the crowd. His perfection is implausible.
Thile performs with an energy that is fascinating, strutting around the stage in an almost rooster-like fashion. He stops from time to time to face each of his band-mates, as if he's challenging them to exceed his tenacity.
When I watch him, I feel like I'm being challenged, too. It's as if Thile is taunting me, just daring me to be a better player. I'm a mandolin player myself, and when I watch this guy, I feel like I should go home and set my instrument on fire. Play for hours. Let myself be consumed. Allow this fervor to devour me.
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| the apparition of these faces in the crowd; petals on a wet, black bough (ezra pound)
the faces of strangers are vast... we are mad. missing. mute. proudly paralyzed. sick. still. rare. wretched. beautiful. | | |
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