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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!

Bob Dylan’s “The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan” (1963) – The Weekend Review

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By Chris Moore:

RATING:  5 / 5 stars

As Clinton Heylin points out in Revolution in the Air, his excellent study of Bob Dylan’s songs written between 1957 and 1973, at the time he wrote “Blowin’ in the Wind,” “he was still considered by his contemporaries (and his record label) a performer first and a songwriter a distant second” (78).

With a single studio album, all of that changed.

Perhaps beginning with “Blowin’ in the Wind,” the oldest song he chose to record for his second album, some inexplicable connection had been made between the vast array of traditional folk influences and Dylan’s innate creativity and way with words.  From front to back, The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan plays as a collection of songs with more range than a twenty-two year-old should, in theory, be able to successfully muster.

And yet, here they are.

Forty-seven years later, these songs and their simple live-take arrangements comprised of lead vocal, acoustic guitar, and harmonica — with one exception on “Corrina, Corrina” — are every bit as vital, vibrant, and relevant as they ever were.  The civil rights movement proper may have passed, but institutionalized discrimination has not.  The Vietnam “conflict” may fall strictly under the domain of history textbooks, but my generation has “conflicts” of its own.  And the desire to return to the simpler days of one’s youth, love songs, and, of course, breakup songs all belong in the “timeless” category.

This is what is perhaps most impressive about The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan: namely — particularly following his ho-hum self-titled debut so closely — Dylan’s ability to shift between all of these gears so seamlessly and with such mastery.

Although this is his second album, Dylan’s unique flair for levity clearly debuts on this release.  Certainly, there was potential hinted at in the Bob Dylan original “Talkin’ New York,” but it appears weak in comparison to gems like “Talkin’ World War III Blues” and “I Shall Be Free.”  What is remarkable about these tracks is that they are not merely superficial ditties designed for laughs.  Rather, they are satirical in nature, and stand up in terms of substance to any of the more “serious” tracks like “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right.”

Probably the only way this album could have been better is if the controversial “Talkin’ John Birch Society Blues” had been green-lighted by the label.  As it was, the song was pulled — and lost Dylan his slot on the Ed Sullivan Show when he refused to choose a different song to perform — for the lines “We all agree with Hitler’s views / Though he killed six million Jews” (Heylin 70).

Speculation only goes so far, though, as it would have been a shame to have any one track stand out from among the rest on such a well-balanced album, so perhaps it was all for the best.

"The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan" (1963)

"The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan" (1963)

“Blowin’ in the Wind” is an undisputed classic of 1960’s folk and protest music.  Once the Peter, Paul, and Mary cover version hit the radio waves, its fate was sealed: Dylan became the “voice of a generation” in large part due to this song.  As Heylin put it, “Dylan soon began to be pestered by those who thought that anyone asking such questions had answers” (81).

He follows up this opener with “Girl From the North Country,” one of the most bittersweet songs Dylan ever penned.  Although Johnny Cash fans — myself included — might find the Nashville Skyline duet enjoyable, there is no substitute for the original.  And if heartache could be heard, then it would sound precisely like that final note Dylan hits on the harmonica.

As if to remind the listener of his backbone, track three reveals the scathing “Masters of War.”  I hesitate to label it an anti-war song, as Dylan has cautioned reviewers against doing so, rather pointing out that the object of his scorn was the military industrial complex.  Regardless, it is certainly among his harshest compositions, including the line, “And I hope that you die / and your death will come soon… / And I’ll stand over your grave ’til I’m sure that you’re dead.”

“Down the Highway” comes next, a fairly straightforward song of woes and the road, and is followed by the surreal “Bob Dylan’s Blues,” a wonderfully quirky song that manages to reference the Lone Ranger and Tonto, sports cars, and six-shooters in little more than two minutes.

“A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” is one of the first true lyrical masterpieces penned by Dylan.  Sans instrumentation and vocals, it could just as easily be a winning poem.  Still, it is difficult to imagine this poignant deep track without Dylan’s characteristic vocal driving it.

You may have heard the Peter, Paul, and Mary version of this next track, but this is absolutely a case in which the Dylan recording is superior in both performance and tone.  “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” was meant to be read as a bitter parting note, and it works best that way.

“Bob Dylan’s Dream” strikes an emotional note, expressing the desire to return to the simpler days of one’s youth.  Somehow, he manages to string together a series of lines and images that are quite relatable without being campy or contrived.

The next track is what can only be described as a topical track, and “Oxford Town” provides a preview of what much of his subsequent album would be like, at least in terms of content.

Following “Talkin’ World War III Blues” comes “Corrina, Corrina,” the only track here to incorporate drums.  This is one of the more simple tracks, but a fun one. “Honey, Just Allow Me One More Chance” is another light-hearted one, sonically if not lyrically, and picks up where “Corrina, Corrina” left off.

Dylan wraps up with “I Shall Be Free,” a perfect blend of commentary and humor that comes across with such great lines as, “I’s out there paintin’ on the old woodshed / When a can a black paint it fell on my head / I went down to scrub and rub / But I had to sit in back of the tub.”

All in all, The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan is the solo acoustic equivalent of a grand slam, hitting on a wide range of topics and moods, expressing for the first time the depth of potential that this young singer/songwriter possessed.  As Heylin’s Revolution in the Air makes perfectly clear, Dylan was still experimenting with his influences here and it could certainly be argued that his work crosses into the realm of appropriation at times, but that has always been an established practice in folk music.  Every line, every melody borrowed from others becomes something different, something contemporary in its new context.

On this, the true debut release of Bob Dylan as a force to be reckoned with, it’s a joy to see his songwriting at work.

And only getting better…

The Black Keys’ “Brothers” (2010) – The Weekend Review

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By Chris Moore:

RATING:  3.5 / 5 stars

In many ways, the Black Keys are as simple a group as any making music of any kind these days.  Their lineup?  Two men: Patrick Carney on drums and Dan Auerbach on guitar.  Their music?  Often riff driven, and usually classified as blues rock.  Their most recent album?  Well, the cover reads, “This is an album by The Black Keys.  The name of this album is Brothers.”  The back cover?  Reads: “These are the names of the songs on this album.  These are the guys in the band.”

From the outside, there has never been an arrangement of sounds, words, and packaging that was quite so blunt.

And yet, there is an inner torment here, ostensibly brought on by the soul-searching trip down memory lane that runs as a common thread throughout all fifteen tracks on Brothers.  At every lyrical turn, the songs return to that most basic of subject matter: the effects of early — and, most often, painful — experiences with love.

It comes as no surprise, then, that the Black Keys would set the music video for “Tighten Up” on a playground, a video which finds Carney and Auerbach’s sons (in the storyline, at least) vying for the attention of a girl.  By the end of the video, the adults, after trying to break up the fight, have begun fighting over the mother of the girl.

The moral of the story, it seems, is that we may grow older, but we never truly change.

Especially when it comes to attraction and love.

As Auerbach sings in “Tighten Up,” “When I was young and moving fast / Nothing slowed me down.”  As the years have gone by, he’s “Living just to keep going / Going just to keep sane.”  The latter lines suggest that there are accumulated memories and experiences from which to run.

These fifteen songs — alternating between the outstanding and the okay — pick at the scars in order to explore those memories and experiences.

The Black Keys' "Brothers" (2010)

The Black Keys' "Brothers" (2010)

Alternating between tender vulnerability and world-weary realism, the resounding statement that this album makes is, as stated on “Next Girl,” “I made mistakes back then / I’ll never do it again.”  During the album-long review of history, there are some mild bouts of nostalgia, but most of those even end in an audible hardening of the skin.  Most are stark realizations, as he goes on to sing in this song that “A beautiful face / And a wicked way / And I’m paying for her / Beautiful face every day.”

“Next Girl” may seem harsh, even misogynistic, but at its core, it is a song about loving not only based on appearances, but also being aware of the deeper values.

Much of the material here refers to relationships gone wrong, as in “She’s Long Gone” when Auerbach sings about a girl who “was made to blow you away/ She don’t care what any man say / You can watch her strut / But keep your mouth shut / Or it’s ruination day.”  This is the classic girl-as-temptress scenario, and calls to mind Estella, the girl who was raised to break men’s hearts in Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations.  The term “ruination day” adds a biblical edge to the tale.

This girl must really have made an impression, as Auerbach goes on to sing, “And she’s not made like those other girls.”

Revisiting track four, one is left to wonder if this is the same girl he is referring to when he sings, “Throw the ball / To the stick / Swing and miss / In the catcher’s mitt / Strike two / Baby I’m howlin’ for you.”

Another theme that is played out is that of jealousy and its longtime ally revenge.  In “Ten Cent Pistol,” Auerbach establishes himself as a third person narrator, telling the tale of a man who “ran around / Late at night / Holding hands / And making light / Of everything / That came before.”  This individual, apparently vowing never to commit, goes on to make an enemy of a woman, perhaps surprised that their time together turned out to be a one-night stand.

He goes on to sing, “There’s nothing worse / In this world / Than payback from a / Jealous girl / The laws of man / Don’t apply / When blood gets in / A woman’s eye.”  Again, a bit exaggerated perhaps, but this sentiment is in line with the woman-as-dangerous paradigm that is explored throughout the album.

The middle to end of the album is perhaps the most blunt, as Auerbach sings of morality in “Sinister Kid,” noting that “Your mother’s words / They’re ringing still / But your mother don’t / Pay our bills.”  Later, in “The Go Getter,” he recounts, “I got a table at the Rainbow Room / I told my wife I’d be home soon… I see my life going down the drain / Hold me baby and don’t let go / Pretty girls help to soften the blow.”  In both cases, the commonality is idealism versus realism.  Both acknowledge normalcy (or what “should” be done), yet go on to do what is necessary, or at least what “help[s] to soften the blow.”

The low point for optimism falls in “I’m Not the One,” as Auerbach asserts, “You think / That I’m normal / But all these years / I’m just trying to warn you / You’d do good / To move on / No it won’t / Hurt me none.”

It’s difficult to believe a statement like this, particularly the idea that another moving on wouldn’t hurt, considering the more vulnerable moments that are explored on this album, as in “Too Afraid to Love You” when he admits that most basic of human truths: “I’m just one wishing / That I was a pair / With someone / Oh somewhere.”  Then, there is their decision to cover “Never Gonna Give You Up,” which is hardly a song of defeat.

To be certain, the narrator’s recounting of what seem to be early experiences with love are most often delivered with a subtext of regret embedded.  Oftentimes, the pain is felt when reality overshadows the imagination, as in “The Only One,” when he sings, “Like a ghost / The one that I love most / She disappears / When I get near.”  This is perhaps the most difficult lesson of all for a young man to learn: namely, that we often build up the ones we love to be something — typically something more — than what they are in reality.

Memories aren’t all bad on the album, though when they aren’t bad, they’re sad, as in “Unknown Brother”:  “We’ll smile like pictures / Of you as a boy / Long before you retired / To heavenly joy.”  This is really the first time since the opening track, where Auerbach states “Love is the coal / That makes this train roll,” that affection is viewed in a positive light.

The album begins with the optimistic sentiment, “Let me be your everlasting light / The sun when there is none,” but it soon turns out that this is probably less a serious request than a desire to believe that this kind of simple, pure love could exist.  This seems to be supported by the closing track of the album, when Auerbach confides in us that, “Wasted times and broken dreams / Violent colors so obscene / It’s all I see these days / These days.”

These songs could be taken at face value as simple little blues rock numbers, but there is so much more woven into the lyrics, and particularly into the vocal deliveries, guitar riffs, and other instrumentation.  All in all, Brothers reads as a return for Carney and Auerbach to the Black Keys, a brotherhood of sorts, that exists after all these years as an outlet for them, as something in which to place faith in the ability of man to feel genuine camaraderie and sentiment, even if it is wrapped in pain and torment.

But, then again, that’s the blues, right?

Weezer’s “Death to False Metal” (2010) – The Weekend Review

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By Chris Moore:

RATING:  3 / 5 stars

Didn’t I already write a Weezer review this year?  And last year?  And the year before that?

Yes, on all three counts.

So, allow me to begin with the disclaimer that Death to False Metal, though it receives only a half star lower than the rating I granted Hurley, is not as cohesive an effort in comparison.  The individual songs shine in places and come up short in others.  It is, after all, a collection of songs that, for various reasons, didn’t make the cut on their previous studio albums.

What is fascinating about this release — and what grants credibility to Rivers Cuomo’s stance that this should be considered Weezer’s ninth studio album proper — is that the songs haven’t simply been culled from studio tapes, digitized, and hastily thrown together.  As the official press release reads, “The album was created using the basic tracks of 10 previously unreleased recordings — nine never-before-heard songs plus one cover — to assemble a brand new and truly modern-sounding record.”

This is what is most striking about the album on first listen: that it sounds like an album.  Considering that the tracks hail from periods as diverse as Pinkerton, Maladroit, Make Believe, and The Red Album, this could very easily have sounded like your typical “Greatest Misses” compilation.  Some, like Bob Dylan, have pulled off this brand of release, largely due to the fact that their vaults are populated by excellent cuts.  Most, however, release these compilations for the enjoyment of only the most fanatic segments of their audience.

On Death to False Metal, Cuomo and company have introduced a third option: remake the songs as one might restore a car, balancing a faithfulness to the original design with an attention to more contemporary sensibilities.

Death To False Metal (Weezer, 2010)

Death To False Metal (Weezer, 2010)

As could be expected, even with a band with as characteristic a sound and feel as Weezer, there is still a sense that these tracks have been compiled.  The transition from the grunge of “Everyone” to the glittery pop/rock of “I’m a Robot” is particularly noticeable.  What’s more, both of these tracks fall firmly under the “I-see-why-they-were-scratched” category.  Still, there is an energy to them that is infectious, and if you enjoy this band’s style, you will find yourself turning up the sound.  Although these two songs have the potential to become grating, they also clock in at well under three minutes each.

Elsewhere, the simplicity is appealing, as it is on “Trampoline” and “I Don’t Want Your Loving.”  And “Turning Up the Radio” is yet one more reminder that, simple or not, Weezer are the kings of the epic chorus.

The decision to work from the basic tracks up is what sets this release apart and what makes it a solid album.  If you want to split hairs about the quality of individual songs, even in comparison to other Weezer tunes, then you could lose yourself in the criticism and find, in the end, that you’d missed the point of the album.

The point, as supported by the opener, is to turn up the volume and enjoy a set of songs that have been filtered through the Weezer of 2010, which — contrary to what critics (myself included) were concluding as recently as a year ago — is actually saying a great deal.

The packaging itself is impressive as it so very rarely is with this band.  Much of the obvious has been stated and restated as concerns the cover, but little has been noted about the presence of lyrics, pictures, drawings, and other elements of intelligent design within the booklet.

The fact that two staples were required for assembly is, in itself, pleasantly surprising.

So, if you’re tired of what passes for rock on mainstream radio, pick up a copy of Death to False Metal.  It won’t change your life and it probably won’t make your end-of-year top ten list, but it will be an album you’ll crank up and enjoy over and over again.  Even the Toni Braxton cover that concludes the disc is surprisingly consistent with the tenor of the previous tracks.  And, if you manage to block out all memories of nineties radio and half-drunken karaoke nights at your local bar, then you might even think it’s a decent song.

After a questionable 2009, Weezer has returned with two of the most enjoyable and respectable releases of 2010.  Death to False Metal may be an “odds and ends” album, to borrow the language of early band chatter, but it holds its own against the very strong Hurley.