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Bad Books’ “Bad Books” (2010) – The Weekend Review

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By Chris Moore:

RATING:  4.5 / 5 stars

Some of my favorite bands kicked off their careers with mediocre debuts (think: Bob Dylan) — some overrated at that (like August and Everything After & Horehound) — and others with terrible and/or terribly ho-hum debuts that betrayed little of the excellent work that was to follow (cough, nudge… The Wallflowers).

While some have accomplished it (the Jimi Hendrix Experience, Pearl Jam, and Barenaked Ladies come to mind), it is not often that a new band hits a home run on their first attempt.

The time has come to add another to that brief, auspicious list: namely, Bad Books.

As with the Thorns’ excellent debut, Bad Books has experience and range working in its favor.  The band is comprised of solo artist Kevin Devine and (what is essentially all of) the band Manchester Orchestra.  The resulting album tempers the band’s all-out indie/alternative rock sound with Devine’s folk-influenced style.

With any such collaboration, the danger is that the whole will either sound too similar to the work that the members have produced previously or that it will come across as a forced attempt to cover new ground.

Bad Books manages to avoid both extremes.

Bad Books feels cozy, simple even.  Nothing here that will challenge your previously held opinions about what good music should sound like.  Yet, simultaneously, Bad Books is expansive, spanning from the spacey ambiance of “How This All Ends” to the stripped down acoustic “The Easy Mark & The Old Maid” to the crunchy guitar-driven rocker “Baby Shoes.”

And that’s only the first three tracks.

Bad Books (Bad Books, 2010)

Bad Books (Bad Books, 2010)

The pinnacle of the album is indisputably at the beginning of “Side B,” or track six for all you downloaders and the handful of you CD buyers out there.  “You Wouldn’t Have to Ask” clocks in at under two minutes, but, in its short span, it accomplishes much.  There is no intro: the song kick-starts with lush harmonies, clean, subtle guitar work, and a steady drumbeat.  This builds up to a more driving beat with excellent drum fills, crunchier electric guitars at the front of the mix, and what amounts to a duet between Devine and Manchester Orchestra’s Andy Hull.  (The music video, based on the Everly Brothers’ 1964 Shindig! performance of “Gone, Gone, Gone,” aptly sets the band’s contemporary indie sound against a black and white backdrop of a bygone era.)

This partnership is what seems to propel the album, each contributing half of the songs to this joint effort.  There is the nearly unhinged emotion of “Please Move,” transitioned to smoothly from the broken-down vulnerability of “I Begged You Everything.”  Extremes are placed back-to-back, and yet it works.  The arrangement is brilliant, not only on the song level but also on the level of the album as a whole.

And to be certain, lyrically, Devine and Hall have composed some of the strongest songs of the year, seemingly simple songs like “You’re a Mirror I Cannot Avoid” and “Mesa, AZ” that reject the concept of background music.  These songs, as it often is with the good ones, require multiple listens to comfortably ascribe meaning.  The allusions, when made, are not always readily apparent, the most notable probably being a reference to Shakespeare’s Henry V.  This is original, fluid writing.  I dare say this is poetry.

It is thus shocking — and unforgivable — that the packaging is less than minimalist.  A lackluster cover (my apologies to the band members who created these sketches, images that would have made for fascinating insets within the packaging) is about all there is.  A dismal one-fold covering for this CD with no booklet and no lyrics and no more than these ten brief songs: this is all there is.

Bad Books is one of the premier albums of the year — top three material — and yet the packaging is non-existent.  The lyrics are unacknowledged.  This I will never understand, because — I’m sorry — if a band like Jukebox the Ghost can mass-produce a colorful, three-fold digipack with a thoughtful design and complete lyrics, then seasoned folks like these either deserve more options from the higher-ups or we deserve more effort from them.

If we as listeners don’t “deserve” it, then certainly this beautiful music deserves more.

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Elliott Smith’s “Figure 8” (2000) – The Weekend Review

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** This is the second in a five part series of music reviews, counting down from the #5 to the #1 albums of the decade, 2000-2009.  On January 2nd, 2010, the #1 album was revealed, along with the complete Weekend Review picks for the Top Thirty Albums of the Decade. **

By Chris Moore:

RATING: 5/5 stars

Elliott Smith’s Figure 8 is undeniably one of the most hauntingly beautiful studio albums ever recorded.

This album — his fifth and final before his death — came at the peak of his career, blending his early acoustic fingerpicking styles with the orchestration that characterized his later work.  When it was first released, some reviewers criticized it as lacking the “subtlety” of his previous work.

Excrement.

Figure 8 has all the subtle brushstrokes of his tremendous early work — Roman Candle, Either/Or — with a much better grasp of the big picture.  Even XO, released two years previously as his major label debut, never quite attained the cohesion of Figure 8.  The concept of the album title alone is compelling, possibly taken from a Schoolhouse Rock! song (which he recorded during the sessions).  In a Boston Herald interview, Smith explained the concept by saying, “I liked the idea of a self-contained, endless pursuit of perfection.  But I have a problem with perfection…”  Conjuring the image of a skater, he continued, “So the object is not to stop or arrive anywhere; it’s just to make this thing as beautiful as they can.”

If this doesn’t encapsulate Smith’s worldview, then what does?

For better or worse, Figure 8 — not to mention all of his previous work — is often, perhaps unavoidably viewed through the lens of his death in 2003, generally considered to have been a suicide even though homicide could not be ruled out.  Knowing the circumstances of his death, it is difficult not to bestow additional layers of meaning on tracks like “Everything Means Nothing to Me” and “L.A.”

Whatever your take on his life and death may be, the music on Figure 8 speaks for itself.  Ranging from stripped down acoustic crooning to full-band electric romping, not to mention some honky tonk piano thrown in for good measure, the instrumental and vocal textures are well-layered, somehow achieving complexity without distracting from the songs themselves.

Elliott Smith's "Figure 8" (2000)

Elliott Smith's "Figure 8" (2000)

“Son of Sam” is, of course, the perfect album opener.  As my girlfriend has pointed out, you really have to remind yourself of the topic of this track to avoid being taken in by how catchy and pretty it is.  And how many songs about serial killers are simply this good?

Not many, I would hope.

Smith immediately takes it down a notch for track two, declaring his emotional distance in “Somebody That I Used To Know,” which is all acoustic and double-tracked vocals.  Classic Elliott Smith.

No sooner does that song fade then “Junk Bond Trader” kicks up on piano, spewing out disdain in a manner that only Smith ever could.  The next two tracks — “Everything Reminds Me Of Her” and “Everything Means Nothing to Me” — continue along the same theme, but in a more openly vulnerable voice.  The latter sounds every bit as stripped down as the former until about a minute in, when the characteristically double-tracked vocals are joined by heavily reverbed drums, building up to a spine-tingling crescendo.

The album continues in this manner, spare instrumentation at times and all-out rock n’ roll at others.  While Smith is an excellent piano player, guitar is clearly his instrument.  His use of timing with guitar riffs, electric solos, clean and distorted sounds at various times, and even palm mutes is unsurpassed.

Somehow, Figure 8 achieves an eclectic, indie sound that is both very modern and very nostalgic, particularly of mid to late Beatles work.  It seems no coincidence that Smith purchased authentic Beatles recording equipment throughout his career and even recorded several tracks for this release at the famed Abbey Road Studios in London.

It is difficult to imagine any other singers being more emotive, any other songwriters being so diverse in their styles and interests, or any other performers being so talented, much less all at the same time.  For these reasons, Figure 8 is one of the absolute essential albums of the decade, 2000-2009. It may have barely cracked the upper half of the Billboard Hot 200, but anyone who rejects the radio and the Grammys as the best source for new music knows that this is an unreliable judge of musical character.  Rolling Stone‘s panel of judges came a bit closer by voting this album as the #42 album of the decade, but this is drastically underselling it.  After all, I love Love & Theft, I think Magic is rocking, and White Blood Cells is great, but how these albums can place higher than a true masterpiece like Figure 8, I’ll never know.

And don’t even get me started on U2, Coldplay, Radiohead, and Green Day…

Truly, if you have ever felt rejected, needed to distance yourself from a negative influence, tried to mentally process the pressures of society, or simply been human, Figure 8 is an essential album.

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Music Review: John Mayer’s “Battle Studies” (2009)

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RATING:  3 / 5 stars

By Chris Moore:

As John Mayer explained in a recent interview, his new studio album is an exploration of the more violent side of a romantic relationship – thus the “battle” – but within the parameters of an intelligent, reasonable analysis – thus the “studies.”

If this sounds deep and insightful, well, it is.

Kind of.

One of the key aspects that detracts from Mayer’s music is his intermittently pedestrian lyricism.  I qualify this as “intermittently” because he certainly has moments, here as on his previous albums, of witty, striking, or just simply strong, well-worded lyrics.  And yet, there are also those head-shaking, “isn’t this your fourth album” moments when he sings lines like “I love you more than songs can say,” “then you come crashing in like the realest thing,” and the general “half and half,” mathematical confusion of “Half of My Heart.”

The line between innocent yet intelligent sincerity and downright derivative drivel has always been the debate about John Mayer’s music – recall, for instance, the title of his second album, Heavier Things.  And I would have screamed if I had to hear one more person referencing Continuum by saying, “His blues work is so strong, I can finally take him seriously.”

Regardless of your opinion of Mayer’s intellectual and lyrical prowess, Battle Studies is a well put-together record that consistently demonstrates his awareness of the big picture.  The album opens with a fade in to “Heartbreak Warfare,” which clearly establishes the battle imagery and the war metaphor for a romantic relationship in distress.  The song provides just the right blend of symbolic description and more literal framing for the album to follow.

“All We Ever Do Is Say Goodbye” is a perfect representation of that moment before a breakup when the fighting has ceased and the inevitability of it all can be depressing, crushing.  It is, of course, soon followed by a rationalization of the situation – Mayer interestingly brought in country music star Taylor Swift to simplify things and play a catchy, if straightforward tune.

Then comes the breaking point.

“Who Says” set off some controversy when it was first released due to the repeated question, “Who says I can’t get stoned?”  This is yet another example of the general public being incapable of taking a line metaphorically.  This is hardly a “tokin’ song,” as one YouTube viewer suggested in his poor review of the single.  Mayer is clearly – and has said as much himself – using the marijuana reference to represent actions that you wouldn’t normally be able to take due to the expectations of others.  This is quite in line with other queries in the song such as, “Who says I can’t be free from all of the things that I used to be?”

Even the line “I don’t remember you looking any better, but then again, I don’t remember you” is questionable.  Some have written it off as glorifying a reunion after a drugged or drunken one night stand.  I hope that I do not offer too much credit to Mayer when I read this as an extension of the experimentation and freedom of this song – in other words, he doesn’t remember this person because he has never met them before.  Now that he is single again, he is free to “meet all the girls in the county line.”

This declaration of rebellion and/or independence is followed by “Perfectly Lonely,” a catchy ode to bachelorhood that highlights some of Mayer’s best guitar work.  Then comes “Assassin,” an even deeper dive into the territory of the “player/heartbreaker.”

John Mayer's "Battle Studies" (2009)

John Mayer's "Battle Studies" (2009)

The most difficult track for me to process has been his cover of “Crossroads.”  Yes, this is an old Robert Johnson song, but Mayer is really channeling Eric Clapton here.  That being said, Mayer’s “Crossroads” is hardly a faithful cover of the Cream track.  Instead, there are remnants of the guitar riff included in a song just begging to be DJ’ed into a dance mix.

I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Well, I actually am sure how I feel about that.  But what I do like about this track is its thematic relevance to the album.  The idea of being at a crossroads comes at the perfect time, halfway through the album.  The previous three tracks have celebrated “loneliness” of a sort, but this track reminds us that if we are all alone, we may go unrecognized when we try to “flag a ride.”

“War of My Life” is a perfect choice to follow this cover, as Mayer reverts to that classic sound he has come to be known for – and I should emphasize that “Assassin” and “Crossroads” really do have a sound that is all their own on this record.  As per usual, Mayer returns to his standby pensive lyrics and pouty crooning.

The final section of the album is where something is lost, some energy and presence that was stronger in the opening half.  This is precisely where my opinion of the album wavers.

That being said, these final three tracks complete the cycle of this album concept, providing narration from a man on the “Edge of Desire” ready to go back on what he believes in order to restore his relationship.  Then comes the re-assessment, pulling himself out of that moment of weakness with “Do You Know Me.”  Finally, Mayer closes up shop on this album with the anthemic “Friends, Lovers, or Nothing,” putting forth a learned truth of sorts.

All in all, Battle Studies accomplishes what it set out to – namely, to study a relationship at the end of its lifespan from the perspective of an individual maintaining his dignity, going back on what he has said, and ultimately enjoying and – more interestingly – appreciating his individuality and independence.

Mayer has called this album a sidestep, and Battle Studies sounds like it picks up from where Heavier Things left off.

And that is more than all right with me.

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Foo Fighters’ “The Colour and the Shape” (1997) – The Weekend Review

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By Chris Moore:

RATING: 5 / 5 stars

Once in a band’s career — if they are that lucky — songwriting and performance coalesce on an album in such a way as to inspire both thought and emotion. When that bolt of metaphorical lightning strikes, the result is a collection of songs that breathe like living entities, some tracks crying, some tracks screaming, some tracks shining beautifully. Somehow, through a mixture of careful, intentional strategy and fortunate, indescribable chance, those songs come across as sincere, relatable, and entertaining. Sometimes, they even connect in such a way as to create an interesting statement as a whole.

In the Foo Fighters catalog, The Colour and the Shape is that album.

In the interests of full disclosure, I should make it very clear that I am not a big Foo Fighters fan. Aside from a brief phase of hurriedly listening to all their other albums, I have neither before nor since found their work extraordinary. I do have a great respect for Dave Grohl’s concepts, such as his half-electric, half-acoustic In Your Honor. Until 2007’s Echoes, Silence, Patience, and Grace, however, I was unable to find an album that came close to the heights achieved on their 1997 sophomore effort.

Perhaps the greatest strength of The Colour and the Shape is the balance between pure electric energy and calmer, more soothing tones. This is no middle-of-the-road album; in fact, it has some of the loudest screaming — as well as some of the lightest tones and harmonies — of any album I have ever heard. To be sure, it is one of the very few albums that I have found such extremes on and still found it enjoyable. Too much on the soft side can be boring, and too much on the hard side can be, well, too much.

That is certainly one of Dave Grohl’s fortes — he is shredding his vocal chords in one breath and crooning at the next. Because I tend toward liking the latter more than the former, I always find it a sweet relief to hear some simple double tracking or harmonies following an all-out electric track.

Foo Fighters'

Foo Fighters'

The first time I heard the album, the opening track made me shake my head and double check that I had put the correct CD in the drive. “Doll” is a light, bittersweet song with slightly muted vocals that set the tone for the album. This is a collection of songs about a relationship that is falling apart for a number of reasons — the narrator is willing to admit his own shortcomings (“Doll me up in my bad luck…”), but he isn’t shy about calling the other person on hers.

“Monkey Wrench” and “Hey, Johnny Park!” add up to one of the best one-two punches in rock album history. Each song introduces one killer guitar riff layered upon another, stacked with energetic vocals, and boneheaded metaphors not withstanding, the lyrics are fun. Even though it felt a bit out of my range, I ran my vocal chords ragged back in June 2008 to commit a cover song version of “Hey, Johnny Park!” to video for the Laptop Sessions (CLICK HERE to have a listen!).

These are followed by two more songs that vacillate between power chord-fueled electric rage and Grohl’s calmer, clearer tones. It doesn’t get any more blunt than these lyrics (“This is a blackout; don’t let it go to waste. This is a blackout; I wanna detonate…”), but they work on these tracks.

“Up in Arms” borders on tender (and sad), but certainly isn’t lacking in the backbone department. Then, “My Hero” unfolds a tribute to the “ordinary” hero — fans have speculated that it’s an ode to Grohl’s former Nirvana bandmate Kurt Cobain, but Grohl himself says it’s directed at the average workingman.

I suppose it’s up to you to decide what you believe…

Then comes one of my favorites on the album, a song so unlike the others and yet so wonderfully intertwined thematically. “See You” lends more straightforward acoustic rock sensibilities than you’ll find anywhere else on the album, although they are hinted at in several other tracks.

The rest passes in a blur, starting with the anger and brevity of “Enough Space.” I found this track tough to swallow at first, but my tastes in music have progressed over the years, and I like this song very much now, if for no other reason than it is not what the album as a whole sounds like — Grohl and company seemed to take care to balance such elements.

Although the final four songs are each over four minutes, they pass quickly. “February Stars” boasts a Goo Goo Dolls sound on the outro, and frankly, Grohl does a better job making that sound interesting than John Rzeznik himself. “Everlong” is, of course, a classic. If you listen carefully to the lyrics, it is an emotional, brutal song, and you can almost hear it in the performance — Grohl, Nate Mendel, and Pat Smear must realize what a gem they are recording.

The final two songs work well as a pair, “Walking After You” representing the phase in a breakup where one party clings desperately to the remnants of the relationship even as the other is walking away and “New Way Home” embodying that deep breath and next step for the lonely one left behind. If you’ve been in this situation before and been heartbroken by someone who has lost interest in you, then you’ll appreciate the closing tracks on this album.

In closing, The Colour and the Shape is a standout effort from the Foo Fighters. It is not only the first (and only) album I would recommend to others — with the possible exception of Echoes, Silence, Patience, and Grace — but it is also one of the great rock albums of all time, in my opinion, an effort that is stronger as a whole than the individual tracks could ever be.

On a more emotional level, it is an album I continually find myself returning to when I’m contemplating relationship problems, and I would highly recommend it as one of the Weekend Review’s picks for albums to keep on hand for those aforementioned sad and/or angry moments!

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