Mumford & Sons’ “Sigh No More” – The Weekend Review

By Chris Moore:

RATING:  3.5 / 5 stars

Critics and fans alike have been talking about Mumford & Sons an awful lot this year, more than any other new artist with the obvious exception of Justin Bieber.  But…

Do I even need to explain why these two cannot and should not be compared?

While I haven’t contributed my voice to the Sigh No More fanfare, there is no question that, out of those nominated, they deserve the “New Artist” Grammy.  On their debut album, the band has established a characteristic sound that is both unique and rooted in traditional music.  At times, as on “Little Lion Man,” it is clear that this is a contemporary band, their music unlike what you’ve heard before.  At others, as on “Timshel,” it’s as though you’re listening to a weathered pub band run through a traditional ballad they’ve played a hundred times before.

What is perhaps most remarkable about Mumford & Sons is how much attention they have gained for a band that relies on such strongly acoustic arrangements.  Unlike others this year, like Phil Selway who went acoustic in a stripped-down, melancholy manner, Mumford & Sons have managed to add verve to what might otherwise be a gritty, folky aura.

One listen to a track like “Dust Bowl Dance” will reveal a blurring of the lines between what is acoustic and what is rock music.  Certainly, the term “acoustic rock” and its connotative effects do not properly express “Dust Bowl Dance.”

Sigh No More (Mumford & Sons, 2010)

Sigh No More (Mumford & Sons, 2010)

Elsewhere, as on “After the Storm,” the band reveals a softer side, more in tune with the expectations of an acoustic song.  That tenderness is present throughout the album: in the raw vulnerability of the title track, the harmonies on “White Blank Page,” and the blunt confessional chorus of “Little Lion Man.”

The overall tone of Sigh No More is decidedly weathered, tortured, and this is upheld across the majority of tracks.  The intro to “Winter Winds” — its fast-paced banjo picking and triumphant horns — is perhaps the closest Mumford & Sons get to upbeat songwriting, yet even on this track there is a feeling of having overcome great strife.

For such a young band, they pull off “weathered” and “tortured” remarkably well.  For such a young man, Marcus Mumford’s vocals project the texture of years and hard-earned experience.

As strong and as original a sound as they have created, it is a bit too well established, verging on the predictable after a couple of tracks.  Of course, there are deviations and standout songs — those mentioned above in particular, with the possible exception of “Timshel” — but this feeling of formulaic-ness is difficult to shake on an album-level.

This is the main reason I haven’t fallen in line with those praising Sigh No More, yet I would vote for Mumford & Sons in a heartbeat if I were given a “Best New Artist” Grammy ballot.  As a debut, this is a remarkable effort.  The electric guitars on the penultimate track “Dust Bowl Dance” hint strongly at what the future may hold for the band: great potential and development of their characteristic sound.

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Shawn Mullins’ “Light You Up” (2010) – YES, NO, MAYBE SO?

Shawn Mullins’ Light You Up (2010) – MAYBE

Light You Up (Shawn Mullins, 2010)

Light You Up (Shawn Mullins, 2010)

(October 12, 2010)

Review:

Mullins is a distinctive songwriter, steeped in tradition but indisputably original, and he assembles a keenly woven set of tracks in Light You Up — still, there is something tauntingly brief about Matthew Sweet’s appearance on “California.”  (You petered out after your debut, so mull it over: an electric Thorns album would be sweet!)

Top Two Tracks:

“California” & “The Ghost of Johnny Cash”

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The Beach Boys’ “The Beach Boys” (1985) – The Weekend Review

By Chris Moore:

RATING:  4.5 / 5 stars

Never before has such an excellent album been so universally scorned.

From the reviewers on down to the liner notes of the CD itself, every writer who has taken pen to paper in the name of The Beach Boys — perhaps better known to fans as “1985” — has had much in the way of criticism and, at times, outright derision for what ended up being their last full-length studio album of predominantly original material.

Take it as another subtle disapproval when only one track from this year was included on the Good Vibrations: Thirty Years of the Beach Boys box set.

One track out of well over one hundred tracks.

The truth is that The Beach Boys sounds a bit dated, clearly a product of the eighties and the decade long flirtation with digital and synthesized sounds.  Andrew Doe, writer of both the liner notes for the album and Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys: The Complete Guide to their Music, claims that the decision to experiment with this technology “removed any sense of immediacy from the proceedings.”

He also has negative commentary to share for just about every track that I like.

As Doe is one of the few writers to take the time — or, certainly, to be paid — to review these tracks, it may be useful to revisit his sentiments.  In his mind, the Mike Love/Terry Melcher-penned “Getcha Back,” one of the true gems of this period, “has a curiously unfinished feel about it.”  Bruce Johnston’s heartfelt performance on “She Believes in Love Again” is “(unusually) less than silky smooth.”  Brian Wilson’s admittedly simple but — as the Laptop Sessions have proven — beautiful song “I’m So Lonely” is simply “in no way objectionable.” “Passing Friend,” the stronger of the two covers here, is described as “a second-string Culture Club discard [that] really isn’t appropriate, nor up to par.”  (Whereas the other cover, “I Do Love You,” is “good,” even if it’s “not the Beach Boys.”)

To be fair, “Where I Belong” gets the attention it deserves, although Doe overstates it a bit as “the undoubted album highlight.”  The other track that he endorses is “California Calling,” a perfectly enjoyable track that is nostalgic of classic early Beach Boys.  Predictably, Doe again overstates, writing “why this wasn’t a single is an eternal mystery.”

Herein lies the rub: that frustrating ever-present perception of the classic early Beach Boys sound.

The Beach Boys' "The Beach Boys" (1985)

The Beach Boys' "The Beach Boys" (1985)

For nearly two decades by this point, the Beach Boys had been suffering from commercial and critical expectations.  Anyone could understand why Smiley Smile fell disappointingly flat, but strong later releases — like the placid but endearing Friends and the masterpiece Sunflower — stalled in the triple digits on the charts.

Is it a coincidence that an album on which the Beach Boys experiment with new technology and stretch out beyond some of their more typical arrangements is so widely disdained?

I think not.

Consider for even a moment the runaway success of their subsequent album (more like an EP) Still Cruisin’ based on the merits of the crowd-pleasing “Kokomo” and in spite of the downright embarrassing “Wipe Out.”

When this band sings within the ranges of their image (i.e. anything related to summer, the beach, waves, sun, etc.), they are met with far more success than when they stretch out beyond the expected.

As for me, I can see beyond the eighties textures.  I don’t feel the compulsive need to value this music primarily in comparison to the other albums in the Beach Boys catalog; even if I did, it would hold up as one of the pillars, particularly post-Holland.  And I applaud the Beach Boys for rebounding from a tumultuous series of years that saw Carl temporarily quitting the band, Brian falling under the influence of Dr. Landy, and Dennis passing away, due to drowning.

Despite all the tension and tragedy, The Beach Boys is the combined effort of five adults still able to perform with positive energy, adding the element of uplift to nearly every track.  This album is host to what have become lost Beach Boys tracks, including excellent little numbers like “It’s Gettin’ Late,” the catchy “Crack at Your Love,” and the electric, rockin’ “Maybe I Don’t Know.”  And, as much as I like Keepin’ the Summer Alive (1980) for a spin or maybe two, this is the album I put on repeat for days at a time to kick off or to recharge my summer spirit each year.

Few may agree with me, but that’s okay.  The Beach Boys truly is the under-appreciated pinnacle of the Beach Boys final full decade as a band.  Not since Holland had they produced such a strong album, and they would sadly never match it again.

At this point, I’ve written all that can be communicated, and I’ll have to agree to disagree with the masses, tolerating “Kokomo” and loving The Beach Boys (1985).

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Best Coast’s “Crazy for You” (2010) – YES, NO, or MAYBE SO

Best Coast’s Crazy for You (2010) – MAYBE

By Chris Moore:

Crazy For You cover (Best Coast, 2010)

Crazy For You cover (Best Coast, 2010)

(July 27, 2010)

Review:

Best Coast sounds like the product of Zooey Deschanel and Tegan & Sara meeting on a drizzly day in sunny Californ-i-a, deciding to form a band; unfortunately, though, not much is surprising after the first couple tracks, but the band oozes potential and hints at what they may be capable of in the future.

Top Two Tracks:

“Crazy for You” & “Boyfriend”

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