on his debut album, k’naan demonstrated, much like M.I.A. (who released her debut the same year), that hip-hop was globally applicable, that ghettos were worldwide, and that hip-hop need not be so stagnant and derivative. the staggering potential k’naan flaunted on the dusty food philosopher makes his latest record and attempted transition to a more mainstream audience, all the more painful to endure. troubadour is not a terrible listen, but it’s a puzzling follow-up to such a strong first statement. while k’naan never pretended to have transcended the violence of his past, his message on his debut seemed neverthelessone of hope and optimism. now, he seems far too comfortable with being a ‘gangster’ and assures the listener that he ‘comes prepared’ with a desert eagle. perhaps k’naan is trying to depict the stark reality of his life, or the life of somalians, in a way that i’m just not comfortable with, but he still seems to be acting more as an advocate of violence than an unwilling participant. musically, the production style is consistent with the last record, but now the beats are far more conventional. what struck me so much about k’naan’s debut album was how connected it was to the music of africa (see: “wash it down”). the combination of afropop and hip hop is a natural one, but k’naan made it sound much more organic and vibrant. this album has a much more urban feel to it, and consequently lacks a lot of the character from dusty foot that made k’naan such a distinctive voice.uninspired songs, coupled with an unnecessaryre-hash of “if rap gets jealous” (now featuring a guitar solo from metallica’s kirk hammett!), and an unlikely guest spot from maroon 5’s adam levine, make troubadour an ersatz effort at best.
i’ve got a feeling my traffic will increase ’cause of this one.
rob crow would make an excellent candidate to succeed mike patton’s title of “hardest working man in music,” as juggling numerous projects and ideas at once seems to be his calling.unlike patton though, crow is not nearly as versatile a performer and while his obvious enjoyment of expressing himself through different genres is evident, someone should tell crow to stick what he does best. come with me if you want to live is crow’s second outing with goblin cock, an unfortunate jokey-metal band with an even more unfortunate name. although crow’s vocals might be part of the ‘joke’ aspect of this act, they sound really out of place, and ironically, they’re also the only aspect of goblin cock that distinguishes it from being just an apish metal mockery. the music itself is a banal take on sludge/doom metal, like baroness-lite, that often toys with melody. when the melodies shine through the murk, like on “we’ve got a bleeder” goblin cock are at their best, but that’s also when they sound more like crow’s other projects (namely pinback) than a distinct band. it is cool to hear crow sing over heavier music (with heavy being a very relative term here), but such a pleasure isn’t something that metal enthusiasts will share. even dave grohl had the good judgement to not sing on his own metal album— although he was entirely capable of doing so— he opted instead to enlist the help of others so that probot would be taken a bit more seriously than just a ‘heavier foo fighters.’ this ‘heavier pinback’ fails on both accounts of humour and originality and is really only for people who follow rob crow from one project to the next.
trail of dead have spent the better part of the decade trying to succeed the sonically ambitious, source tags & codes.on century of self, the group seems to have made an important step toward that goal, as they’ve found the key to a great balance in their music: to temper their prog-rock with urgent spontaneity. the salvo of “far pavilions” and “isis unveiled” are the first examples of how the band have re-learned to combine their raucous punk roots with the meticulous and complex movements associated with the ambitious prog genre. the latter of the two songs borrows its name from a theosophical text by blavatsky, and combines one part anthem with two parts soaring celtic melody. the celtic riff helps the song to appeal to a deeper mythology, one that agrees with the often fantastical subject matter in the lyrics, and one that remains grounded by sprawling drum work.
each song title on the album references a novel, poem, or geographical locale, and it seems that there’s an intertextuality that trail of dead are trying to use to form a narrative.this idea sounds heavy, and yet, for an album that clocks-in at 53 minutes, century of self still makes for a pretty modest statement. the narrative is not cohesive, and neither are the stylistic influences, but the way in which they all come together on this record demonstrates that the band has learned to check their self-indulgent tendencies. trail of deadhardly over-step themselves on century of self, but as is natural for any “prog” album, the content explored within can often border on achingly cheesy or campy (see: the seagull sounds on “pictures of an only child”). still, it is their understanding of the importance of balance to a song that keeps things afloat and keeps the listener’s interest anchored. this record is not overwhelming in the least and is probably the first album this year that i’ve been excited about revisiting (with dan auerbach and andrew bird not far behind).
with its star power and star power alone, the spirit of apollo will appeal to your curiosity and your ears— just don’t look for a cohesive concept along the way. having never heard of N.A.S.A. before, i thought i’d give them a shot, because when i briefly looked at the track listing, i saw names like method man, david byrne and M.I.A, and wanted to know how they ended up coming together on one record. it seems that curiosity is what this project is banking on, because it’s exactly that kind of rubbernecking that sustains the listener’s interest from beginning to end.only when one begins to dig for the actual content, or for the intent of this record, do they come up shorthanded. N.A.S.A. (meaning north america/south america) is purportedly a collaborative effort between 30+ artists that centres around the crate-mining, old school samples of DJs Squeak E. Clean (producer of yeah yeah yeahs’ show your bones) and Zegon, but despite having good intentions, apollo is not the “border crossing” extravaganza it claims to be. the majority of the artists are north american, andthematically, the songs don’t really follow anything concrete that would suggest a coming together of peoples or an elimination of barriers. a disclaimer at the beginning of the disc lays out the themes that will be explored, but rather than being informative, it actually comes off as an acknowledgement that this record is conceptually short-sighted and inconsistent: while david byrne sings on a song about money being the root of all evil, kanye west (!) raps on another song about the colour of his jacket (which, outside the context of the album, is still a great song). if you want to hear david byrne and chuck d. performing on the same song, or if you want to hear tom waits say “ghetto booty” rather salaciously, check this album out; however, if you’re looking for a hipper, younger version of big blue ball, you’re going to have to wait a little while longer.
no amount of zooey deschanel guest spots can save this record from being a yawn. the production is what prevents it from being even the slightest bit interesting, and prevents me from digginga bit deeper for those melodies. his older records sounded just that— like older records, and although you could chalk that artistic direction up to ward’s slavish devotion to a specific sound— at least he was committed. i’m not criticizing ward for his shift to a more cleaner kind production, especially sinceward made the move to polish with 2006’s post war— a much better account of his pop sensibilities and warm guitar tones than hold time could ever be— but he has lost much of his charm since then.
with last year’s attack & release, the black keys made a monumental shift by choosing to embrace polished production (c/o danger mouse) and by working with a much larger palette of instruments— their classic one, two punch of guitars and drums was now complimented and fleshed-out by flutes, organs,and banjos.unfortunately, a lack of memorable songs held the keys back from truly succeeding in their transition. if anything can be learned from attack & release though, it is that the shift in the key’s approach to music was a signal that their song-writing skills were developing in a waythat was beginning to outgrow the confines of their early garage-rock leanings. as a testament to that notion, keep it hid, dan auerbach’s first record without fellow key patrick carney, demonstrates a maturity on auerbach’s part, where his choice in instrumentation is complimentary to a song’s voice, and does not cling to the simplicity that the black keys have been known for. these songs have a much warmer, colourful feel that leans more toward folk or country, and as a result, is a more natural direction for auerbach than the modern twist of attack & release. essentially,this is the record that attack & release should’ve been. here, auerbach isn’t trying to distance himself from what he’s done before; he simply does what he does best, and does it well.
imagine 90s slacker rock (a la pavement) played much sloppier and with fewer hooks, and you’ve got a pretty good idea of how dissolver sounds. the record starts off strong with “i can see the future,”and “buddy,” the best songs on the record; the former is a tight, dumb pop song, complete with “woo hoos” and noisy, jagged guitar-lines, the latter is screeching, whiny, awesome mess. had the rest of the record resembled these songs in some way, it definitely would’ve been a whole lot more cohesive in it’s approach. instead “i already know you’re wrong” and “airport ‘99″ slow things down to a monotonous pace that dissolver never fully recovers from. why “‘99″ needs to be stretched out to 7 minutes is beyond me, especiallywith a horrid chorus built on a flimsy rhyme: “…i don’t think i can/ and i’m sitting next to man/ and i think he knows who i am/ an i think i shook his hand…”. the biggest problem with this record is aaron aites’ uncertainty of whether he wants to iran to be a pop band, or an art-rock band. those two styles aren’t diametrically opposed to one another, but they’re never fully reconciled here, they just emphasize one another’s flaws. on its own, “digital clock and phone” is a great song, but being in the same company as some incredibly smart, and well written pop songs just makes it seem like filler. considering that with each new release, iran has been sounding more poppy and polished, aites should just try being more honest with himself and embrace the style he is itching to convey.
