rock

Album of the Week: Lana Del Rey’s Ultraviolence (2014)

June 24, 2024 — Leave a comment

In June of 2014 I was 19, home from my freshman year of college. I was unemployed and spent many nights staying up past 3 or 4am listening to music in my mom’s basement. This was a great time for rap and the typical basement jamming involved Main Attrakionz and Young Thug, but I was also listening to artists like Beach House, Mazzy Star, Galaxie 500, and my perennial favorite Cocteau Twins. I mention this because the dream-pop adoration really set me up to enjoy Ultraviolence.

Not following Lana Del Rey closely before this album, it was a surprising and awesome experience how much it grabbed me. I also found Lana’s publicized depression surrounding the Born to Die (2012) backlash grounded and relatable. This was a really unique era in the first decade of social media when artists were subjected to a newer, overwhelming way of receiving unfiltered criticism, and the Guardian interview accompanying this album’s release on June 13, 2014 revealed Lana as someone who didn’t “enjoy being a pop star, [felt] constantly targeted by critics,” and, most alarmingly, “[didn’t] want to be alive at all.” Ultraviolence, then, was a dramatic turn in every sense of the word: a theatrical display of intense sadness, an abandonment of the hip-hop pop of Born to Die and Paradise, and a uniformly striking collection of dark rock songs.

The Black Keys aren’t too similar to the bands I mentioned in the first paragraph, but when you marry the rich, slow guitar atmosphere of Dan Auerbach’s production with Lana’s velvety voice, you get something of a scarred dream-pop revival, featuring classic pop references. “West Coast” rotates with tension before breaking into a slow-motion interpolation of Stevie Nicks’ “Edge of Seventeen”. “Ultraviolence” reworks The Crystals’ “He Hit Me (and It Felt Like a Kiss)” into twisted Kubrick worship. And fittingly, the album is cinematic in scope. Where Honeymoon (2015) and later albums portray a more chilled-out woman in her thirties, Ultraviolence is a stylized portrayal of youthful sadness. Her Americana-obsessed mythos, though it contains genuine roots, is thematically stretched out for show. This is how you end up with lyrics like “They think I don’t understand the freedom land of the seventies… I’m churning out novels like beat poetry on amphetamines,” (“Brooklyn Baby”) or the (seemingly!) vapid “Sad Girl”. But the results are ultimately bold, inventive and and personal songs that don’t (or didn’t) pander to any formula of commercial success (some of 2014’s top hits: “Happy” by Pharrell; “Talk Dirty” by Jason Derulo; “All About That Bass” by Meghan Trainor).

Whereas newer LDR albums are (imo) overstuffed with stark ballads, Ultraviolence has a solid flow with elements that enhance the strength of her songwriting and singing instead of leaving them repetitively unadorned. The barest ballad here, the penultimate “Old Money”, is gorgeous and welcomed after the hazy atmosphere of the preceeding tracks. Closing with a cover of “The Other Woman” is the album’s final and most gracious nod to classic pop, and Lana’s vocal performance on the song is stunning. Even the leftovers are worth seeking out: bonus track “Black Beauty” is a soaring torch song, and iTunes bonus track “Is This Happiness?” absolutely wrecks me (I wish this were on Spotify!).

In 2019, critical praise of Lana’s music reached a high with the success of Norman Fucking Rockwell!, but Born to Die and Ultraviolence still strike me as her greatest albums. If you can’t dig her, these albums likely won’t change your mind more than anything else she’s done since. But by leaning into her pain, Lana shone on Ultraviolence, and it stands as a unique peak in her career.

Listen to Ultraviolence here.

Album of the Week: Jerry Garcia Band’s GarciaLive Volume Seven: November 8th 1976, Sophie’s, Palo Alto (2016)

June 3, 2024 — Leave a comment

A converted supermarket that still bore the signs of its former occupation, Sophie’s was [in 1976] a mainstay of the Garcia Band, a comfortable, funky venue that welcomed the band four times that year… And for Garcia, it was also familiar turf, a return to the town where he had first made his commitment to music.

-Nicholas G. Meriwether, liner notes

Today marks two years since I moved to Northern California, and what better way to celebrate than with a Jerry show? This recording of the Jerry Garcia Band in 1976 in Palo Alto was largely forgotten until the tapes were found in Donna Jean Godchaux’s storage in the 2010s. This lineup of JGB featured Donna on vocals, Keith Godchaux on piano, John Kahn on bass and Ron Tutt on drums. A familiar and winning quintet, they strike a nice contrast to later JGB lineups, which generally featured non-GD related keyboardists.

In 2021 I covered the slowness of ’76 Dead for my post on their 6/18 and 6/21 shows, and that rings true for most of this set as well. You can hear the “Row Jimmy” reggae tempo in “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” early on. The Godchaux’s presence is felt strongly (as it was with their tenure in the Grateful Dead) – Keith complements the expansive Garcia workouts on his piano and Donna adds another dimension to the vocals. She even takes lead, as on the highlight “Stir It Up”, a Marley classic that she does proud service to.

“Who Was John?” is a super bluesy turn from Jerry, and a jammer’s delight at over fourteen minutes. Speaking of which, this “Don’t Let Go” is a twenty-two minute beast. Jerry is given that floor around four minutes in, and what follows is the most deliberate, unhurried and collective improvisation of the night. Kahn has a bass solo around fourteen minutes that Jerry and Keith gently push up against before the whole group comes together at full volume. Rounding things out is a smoking “Mighty High”. This release is one of my absolute favorites of the GarciaLive series and an easy recommendation for a Garcia fan of any level.

Listen to GarciaLive Volume Seven here.

Album of the Week: Hatfield and the North’s The Rotters’ Club (1975)

November 6, 2023 — Leave a comment

rotter:

noun [ C ]

mainly UK old-fashioned

US  /ˈrɑː.t̬ɚ/ UK  /ˈrɒt.ər/

someone who is very unpleasant or does very unpleasant things

Synonyms

lowlife (informal disapproving)

stinker (old-fashioned informal)

-Cambridge Dictionary

A regular lot of rotters, these Brits! Hatfield and the North, hailing from Canterbury, were a sort of supergroup that released only two albums before disbanding. This one is a banger which I’ve been digging for a while, kind of a mix of British rock and jazzy prog. This release features Dave Stewart, who played organ on Arzachel (1969), which has one of my favorite songs ever, the organ-heavy “Queen St. Gang”. Various other members played in groups such as Caravan, Gong and Matching Mole (the outfit for drummer Pip Pyle, who wrote the two deep 7-minute pieces on side A of The Rotters’ Club).

The cover of Hatfield & The North, the band’s debut, depicts a serene photograph of Reykjavik, Iceland merged with a fresco of Dante’s Inferno. The implied combination of serenity and chaos is a good indicator of the band’s music, which will usually either stay light or else go in unpredictable directions. “Share It” provides an easy start to The Rotters’ Club with a nice pop vocal melody. Phil Miller flexes his muscle on the instrumental “Lounging There Trying” before the album really takes off. At about 2 minutes into “The Yes No Interlude” we get a gnarly Miller solo, the guitarist cleaning house before a quieter, spacey middle section. This space is mined even deeper towards the end of “Fitter Stoke Has a Bath”, a wacky venture.

The 22-minute suite “Mumps” accounts for the back half of this album, and it’s a deliciously jammy venture. At around 5 minutes the instruments meld together in a harmonious, guitar-led mix that, dare I say it, anticipates Phish by a decade or two. Then, the “Northettes” add some wordless vocals, before Stewart goes hardcore on his Minimoog, Miller providing some tasty psychedelic guitar licks. Sinclair’s vocal section is searching and a bit melancholy. There’s even some flute toward the end of this magnificent track, which finishes in triumph.

The back cover of The Rotters’ Club thanks “Heinz and The Tornados – For Musical Inspiration”. The Tornados’ output is certainly inspiring, as no instrumental group atop of the Billboard charts sounded quite like them then (check out 1962’s “Telstar”) or has since. Some 30 years after The Rotters’ Club, the Tornados’ music would also inspire Panda Bear, who sampled them on Person Pitch.

The reissue/streaming version of this album contains about 13 minutes of bonus material (including 2 live tracks!) that is worth your time. Put it up there with your favorite Soft Machine venture, it’s that good!

Listen to The Rotters Club here.

Album of the Week: The Sea and Cake’s The Biz (1995)

September 25, 2023 — Leave a comment

Is Chicago underrated? Reading The Adventures of Augie March and listening to The Biz has me missing the Windy City, a feeling that was only amplified by a recent conversation I had with a gray-haired hipster dude at a Spellling show in Oakland. The guy was from Chicago and mentioned that Jeff Parker from Tortoise used to DJ some of the clubs he went to. Cue nostalgia for an era I never experienced!

Hipster mecca as it is (the home of Pitchfork!), Chicago in the early 90s found singer/guitarist Sam Prekop fronting the indie band Shrimp Boat. This great Pitchfork article notes that at the venue Lounge Ax in Lincoln Park, “Shrimp Boat played, according to [Doug] McCombs [of Tortoise], ‘this totally skronky, weird, idiosyncratic music with pop songs on top of it. They probably played like two shows a week and it felt like they were doing a completely new set of material each time they played.'”

When Shrimp Boat dissolved, Sam Prekop and SB bassist Eric Claridge formed The Sea and Cake with Tortoise’s John McEntire on drums and Archer Prewitt on guitar. Prekop hopped back into the local live circuit with the new band and they recorded and released three albums in the span of two years, The Biz being the third. Of the album, Prekop later said, “This one was recorded live, and I think we had worked out most of the tunes to play live, and that makes it different. We’d done shows with those songs before we’d put them on the record…and I think that’s the last time we worked that way… The way the songs arrived at that point was totally mysterious. Especially the song, ‘The Biz’… I still marvel at the bizarre chord progressions.”

Live and mysterious, yes, The Biz has that charming bookish 90s indie band style going for it from the jump. I’m surprised at how long it took for me to listen to The Sea and Cake given that I like them more than some of their contemporaries, other bands that are too dense/noisy or have bad vocals. Since you could apply the adjectives “chill” and “jammy” to a bunch of this, it makes perfect sense that I enjoy it. But I do think TSaC have an appeal broader than their popularity reflects, especially today when all their albums are available at the touch of a button. You could put on “Station in the Valley” at a laidback outdoor function and no one would bat an eye. And “The Transaction” resounds with the kind of sunny chords that populate some of the bigger Alex G songs.

That live recording/feeling Prekop mentioned translates here and the band sounds really tight. They’re also using EML-101 and ARP 2600 synths for an added dimension of sound. The band’s been labeled post-rock, but what they’re doing here doesn’t feel overly complicated or even dramatic. It’s not like it’s one-note either: “Darkest Night” is quite relaxing and “Escort”, two tracks later, is angular and noisy. File The Biz in with your overlooked indie rock records, and jam out.

Listen to The Biz here.

Album of the Week: Sixpence None the Richer’s Divine Discontent (2002)

May 22, 2023 — Leave a comment

Have you ever seen She’s All That with Freddie Prinze Jr. (of Scooby-Doo fame), Rachel Leigh Cook and Matthew Lillard (also of Scooby-Doo fame)? It’s basically an above-average teen movie, but the best scene is undoubtedly when Rachel Leigh Cook’s character walks down her staircase as Sixpence None the Richer’s “Kiss Me” is playing. “Kiss Me” (1997) is peak grocery store-core. Happy, catchy, mellow and saccharine, it’s a smash hit that remains Sixpence’s most popular song.

After their (now certified Platinum) self-titled album came out in 1997, it took almost 5 years for the band (with ties to Texas and Nashville) to release a follow-up. Lead singer Leigh Nash, an unabashed Christian, stated in a 2003 interview with Jesus Freak Hideout that label problems delayed the release of Divine Discontent, and that it wasn’t supposed to feature the Crowded House cover “Don’t Dream It’s Over”, which Sixpence recorded for the TV show Smallville.

Though the inclusion of “Don’t Dream It’s Over” may have been a push to sell the album rather than an artistic decision, it’s still a standout here. They stick fairly close to the original version, which is not a bad idea. I became obsessed with the Crowded House version recently, which led me to finding Divine Discontent in the first place. With this song, two versions are better than one.

The rest of the album is cash money too, though. “Breathe Your Name” sets things off with as much sunshine as Natasha Bedingfield’s “Unwritten”, but it’s a little groovier. “Waiting on the Sun” is another pop banger. “Paralyzed” is the rocker that I imagine them ripping in a live setting. “Tension is a Passing Note” is a broken ballad that Nash has called her favorite Sixpence song. “Do I murder us / putting pavement in my veins?” she asks. It’s an unsettling moment, and it works in the band’s favor. The Van Dyke Parks-assisted “Dizzy” is like a primer for the soaring closer “A Million Parachutes”, another stand-out.

As far as being lumped into the Christian rock category, as Sixpence often is, Nash has said “I am a big fat Christian and do not care who knows that. When it comes to our music we’d just like it to be taken for it’s musical value and not lobbed onto a big bandwagon.” Divine Discontent far exceeds any expectations of generic Christian rock, and it has aged well in the same way that Michelle Branch’s early 2000’s hits have aged well. They’re well-written rock songs produced to pop perfection.

Listen to Divine Discontent here.

Album of the Week: Gene Clark’s White Light (1971)

February 13, 2023 — Leave a comment

Gene Clark of The Byrds was not a successful solo artist. He left the band in 1966 after his role as a primary songwriter and rhythm guitarist was significantly diminished. Listening to any of his solo records, it’s clear that his songwriting skills make him deserving of a greater legacy than his contemporary reception as a lesser Byrd member. Rightfully, this attitude seems to have changed with recent critical appraisal of his 1974 masterpiece No Other, which was reissued in 2019 and received a 9.3 rating from Pitchfork. Their review paints a stark picture of Clark’s dire fate: “No money would go to promote the album and No Other tanked, all but ending Clark’s career. One of the most exquisite spiritual seekers in song, Clark was dead by the age of 46, ravaged by alcohol and heroin.”

Clark died in 1991, leaving behind a legacy that was more than just The Byrds and even more than No Other. White Light is an inspired acoustic/folk album that features one of my favorite Clark songs, “One in a Hundred”, which was also released in an alternate arrangement on 1973’s Roadmaster. The song’s lilting melody is matched by its delightfully 70s (read: hippie) lyrics: “Voices of time / bringing surprise / voices that sing in waking moments to look into life’s eyes.” Clark could be epic to a degree nearing overly-maudlin, but at other times was quite direct, such as on the lovely chorus of “Because of You”: “The sun I see only shines for me because of you.”

“For a Spanish Guitar” situates itself somewhere between Townes Van Zandt and Bob Dylan, which is pretty much exactly where you want to be if you’re recording a folk album in the early 70s. It’s a lost classic. Speaking of Dylan, White Light features a great cover of “Tears of Rage”, Dylan’s song that was famously played by The Band, Jerry Garcia Band, and probably 100 other people. Clark’s version features impassioned guitar playing (acoustic and electric!) and organ work that would make Garth Hudson proud.

White Light is so succinct that even though the reissue (the version you’ll find on Spotify) packs it with 5 bonus tracks, it barely passes the 50 minute mark. Imbued with a warmth amplified by the magic of early 70s recording technology, White Light is a classic that I’d recommend to any fan of folk or acoustic music.

Listen to White Light here.

Album of the Week: Phish Live 6/27/2010 at Merriweather Post Pavilion (2010)

January 30, 2023 — Leave a comment

I’ve been to Maryland’s Merriweather Post Pavilion exactly once, to see Animal Collective perform for the very first time at the venue they named their seminal 2009 album after (the Centipede Hz-heavy show included just 3 songs from MPP). This was in July 2011, and as a high-schooler I was ecstatic to see my favorite band deliver the goods. I knew almost nothing about Phish at the time except that my dad considered them a shameless Grateful Dead ripoff, and being far from even a Deadhead myself I was in no rush to counter. Phish was a total blindspot.

A decade and change later, Phish is my most listened-to artist (I type this with as much humility as possible). Most “phans” consider the mid-to-late 90s as their peak live era, and I won’t dispute that claim. But for whatever reason, a disproportionate amount of their 2010 shows are available on streaming services. This is one show deserving of attention.

The band’s first two-night stand at Merriweather (there have been seven since) began on Saturday, 6/26/10, with the band notably performing a cover of Neutral Milk Hotel’s “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea”. While I haven’t heard that whole set, the “Aeroplane” indicates the magic in the air at Merriweather that weekend.

Merriweather Post is a beautiful venue with a large outdoor lawn and a summery roof over the stage. A phish.net review sets the scene for 6/27: “The HEAT was bad! Lot’s of humidity, def. could have rained on us but it held back. This actually created a sweaty, half naked crowd that was just waiting to get down.” Sunday night’s show opens with a rare “Walfredo” (one of only two in the past 20 years!), which despite some speaker feedback and a forgotten line signaled a special night ahead with its appearance. A Marley cover (“Mellow Mood”), the evergreen “Divided Sky”, a roaring “Bathtub Gin” and a ripping “Run Like an Antelope” highlight a fun first set.

The second set is where things step into all-killer no-filler territory. “Wilson” starts things off by rocking the engaged crowd before “Meatstick” sends things into funkier territory. One thing about Phish: they are silly. I don’t think everyone will appreciate just how goofy “Meatstick” is, but if you let it take you there, it’s 8 minutes of liquid funk. This jam somehow morphs into the near-metal of “Saw It Again”, which turns into a repeated theme for the rest of the show. This “Saw It” is the first since 2003, and it appropriately fries the brains of the present crowd as it explodes. From the ashes of “Saw It” rises a “Piper” which starts delicately enough before Trey absolutely rips shit on guitar. The cheers are audible around the 11:45 mark when Page finally takes over on organ.

“Ghost” is one of Phish’s all-around best and one of their most consistently played songs (they’ve played it at 2 of the 4 shows I’ve seen) for good reason. On this version, Trey’s got that wet guitar tone and stretches the notes out while the rhythm section churns. In the blink of an eye this “Ghost” turns into the Stones’ “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” (only time ever played!), an unexpected treat, before resolving as a reprisal of the monstrous “Saw It Again”.

“Contact” is a great breather between the climactic “Saw It Again” and the set-ending “You Enjoy Myself”, the most quintessentially Phish-y Phish song. As for the “Fire” encore, it’s an appropriate victory lap given the level they were at on this night. Give it a go and see for yourself.

Listen to 6/27/10 here.

Album of the Week: Sweet Smoke’s Just a Poke (1970)

January 9, 2023 — Leave a comment

Or, a bunch of jewish stoner kids from Brooklyn move to Germany and record a psych-rock classic. With legendary Krautrock producer Conny Plank at the helm, the guys of Sweet Smoke managed to release a two-track jam LP with European distribution on Columbia. Full of flute and guitars, “Baby Night” kicks off with an interpolation of Jeremy & The Satyrs’ “In the World of Glass Teardrops”. Not 3 minutes in, the tempo shifts to a “Moondance”-like strut, stretching out the instruments into jam territory. A minute later, things kick back up into high-gear, with dueling lead and rhythm guitars driving the instrumental passage. Marvin Kaminowitz’s lead around 7 minutes is tantalizing in its brief melodic passage. Then the song shifts again, turning into a cover of The Doors’ “The Soft Parade”. This provides another place for Kaminowitz to stretch out, this time achieving some trippy delay effects, before cycling back to “Teardrops”.

Side B’s “Silly Sally” features some hot saxophone action, so best to start there if you have any aversion to flutes. With some wah-wah guitars, things groove for about 7 minutes until we reach what one Discogs user describes as “one of the most amazing drum solo to hear on drugs .” Some sick fading enhances the solo of Jay Dorfman, who, according to a blog post later “programmed the drum tracks for the seminal dance tech record Planet Rock for Tommy Boy Records” (no way!). The “Silly Sally” solo is about 5 minutes of funky drumming. After that, things round out with more cookin’ sax. Though I have not heard either of their follow-up records, Sweet Smoke’s international debut stands as a strong entry into the canon of both American psych and German Krautrock.

This French fan site also has some good info on Sweet Smoke.

Listen to Just a Poke here.

Album of the Week: A Date with the Everly Brothers (1960)

July 11, 2022 — Leave a comment

Who wants a date with The Everly Brothers?? Look, these guys were pretty charming. At the time of A Date‘s release, Don and Phil Everly were 23 and 21 respectively, and writing much of their own material, not to mention playing and singing it.

I checked out their fourth album, A Date with the Everly Brothers, on the strength of the final track, “Cathy’s Clown”, their biggest hit at the time of its release. This one got stuck in my head with its catchy chorus and emo vibe (“I die each time…”). The other well-known track on here is “Love Hurts”, which was actually not released as a single, but became a huge hit 14 years later for Nazareth. It might be corny, but it’s a great song.

I like all the tracks here except for “Donna, Donna”. To me, the Everlys actually sound best on their own songs, such as the aforementioned “Cathy’s Clown” and the tender “That’s Just Too Much”. Another thing that impresses me about the Everlys is the uniqueness of their sound. They got their start in Tennessee, but they’re not exactly country. They’re “pop”, but the Jimmy Reed song here is a blues track. Opener “Made to Love” and other tracks suggest the playful surf-rock of the early Beach Boys, but the Everlys predate them.

Oh, and the cover’s promised “Candid photos of the Everly Brothers with Hollywood stars” includes pictures of them with Roger Moore and Jack Kelly, among others.

Listen to A Date with the Everly Brothers here.

Album of the Week: Popol Vuh’s Das Hohelied Salomos (1975)

June 27, 2022 — Leave a comment

Popol Vuh have a few classics under their belt, but this is the jammiest. This is the one to smoke to. I mean, it literally starts out with a boom. Full of reverb and cymbal splashes, the atmosphere is so thick, the guitars so damn psychedelic, you might catch a contact high just listening to it.

The title translates to The Song of Solomon, and according to Light in the Attic, “the theme of the album is taken from biblical passages, using verses from King Salomon’s [sic] tales on The Old Testament.” I don’t understand singer Djong Yun’s lyrics any better than that of their high-water mark Hosianna Mantra (1972), but her voice is as lovely as ever. And just like on that album, she again sings “Hosianna”.

The second track “Du schönste der Weiber” starts off quite mellow, but builds up to a crescendo of Fichelscher’s positively face-stealing guitar. I only wish this track didn’t fade out so quickly. The fade-outs are probably my biggest gripe with an otherwise fantastic record.

On the second side, beginning with “Der Winter ist vorbei” (“The winter is over”), we have an added treat of sitar and tabla. To me, the tabla especially adds to the psychedelic groove that puts this band in an upper echelon of all-time rock groups. Sheesh. Spend an afternoon living in this one…

Listen to Das Hohelied Salomos here.