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The Weekend Review: August 2012 Report

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The Circle in the Square (Flobots)

Released: August 28, 2012

Rating:  3.5 / 5 stars

Top Two Tracks: “The Circle in the Square” & “Run (Run Run Run)”

The Flobots’ latest release has continued the downward sales trend since their breakthrough success with 2008’s Fights With Tools.  Still, the Flobots bring their breakneck speed, frustration, and energy to The Circle in the Square, combining rock music instruments with a rap artist’s approach to lyrics and vocals.  Where the album perhaps falls short is in its overall artfulness: there was a unique sense of poeticism on Fights With Tools that is achieved only briefly on this new album, and there are stretches when it feels entirely protest-driven in the extreme, sounding the call to action over and over.  This sense of mission also provides for some of the best, most catchy and energizing moments on the album, such as during “Run (Run Run Run)” when Jamie Laurie sings the refrain: “If the sun will rise even one more time, so will I, so will I!”

The Best “Should’ve Been the Single”’s of 2010

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By Chris Moore:

Sometimes the song chosen as the single to represent a given album is a dead-on decision.  Other times, as is often the case with bands signed to major labels, the single is not necessarily chosen on merit, but rather on its potential to have the widest appeal.  That sort of watered down mentality may be rewarded with broader radio play, or with very little play on a number of stations.  Sometimes the risk pays off.

However, particularly with the bands represented below, I shook my head at the decision when there were other, better songs on the album.  Number one, far and away, would have to be BnL’s “Four Seconds,” their best quasi-rap since 2000’s “Pinch Me.”  Quirky, catchy, cool: the seemingly obvious choice.  I did understand that perhaps “You Run Away” was chosen as a relevant topic, considering Steven Page’s split from the band.  However, that does not explain the decision to follow up with “Every Subway Car,” a solid track but not necessarily a standout, as the second single.

These are the Weekend Review’s picks for the top five “Should’ve Been the Single”‘s of the year.  Enjoy, share your own in the comments area below, and don’t forget to check back tomorrow — and every day for the rest of the year — for another list!

BEST “SHOULD’VE BEEN THE SINGLE”

1)  “Four Seconds” – Barenaked Ladies (All in Good Time)

2)  “Cinnamon” – STP

3)  “Half Crazy” – Jukebox the Ghost

4)  “One More Minute” – Locksley

5)  “Where’s My Sex?” – Weezer

Honorable Mention:  “Uncharted” – Sara Bareilles

Warren Zevon’s “The Envoy” (1982) – The Deep Racks Report

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A Special Edition of the Weekend Review

I think we’ve all heard the term “deep track,” used to refer to songs that do not receive much (or any) commercial radio airplay.  This series is dedicated to brief but focused reports on ALBUMS that do not receive as much commercial or critical attention as they should.

By Chris Moore:

Considerable time has passed since I last dug deep into the racks for a dusty gem, as Cuomo and company might say, to wipe off and take out for a spin.  Inadvertently coming across this record today has proved reason enough to revive the Deep Racks Report.

To suggest that The Envoy is least appreciated of all Warren Zevon albums would be an understatement.  It is the production whose reception resulted in his record label dropping him by the wayside.  It is the release that coincided — not so coincidentally, after he discovered he was unemployed via a music magazine — with a self-destructive run that landed him in rehab.

Some albums that are not as successful as the big-wigs may have hoped are given a second shot in re-release. The Envoy was given that chance…

…twenty-four years after it hit the shelves.

On the eve of its release in 2006, I found it conspicuous that this Zevon record had never been converted to CD previously.  The obvious question was, how bad could it possibly be?

I had my reservations.

Admittedly due in part to my low expectations, I became immediately enamored with these nine tracks.  It is a brief album, to be certain, but in my opinion, there are far too many examples of those releases that suffer from the opposite flaw.  The nine songs that comprise The Envoy are a cohesive set that negotiate the common territory of, well, negotiating the concerns of the singer: love and authority, to name a couple.

While not innovative, these songs are far from pedestrian.  Zevon continues along the same sonic veins that he has established on previous records, adding the uncharacteristically stripped-down, acoustic “Jesus Mentioned” — a preview of what was to come in the latter half of his career — and the unhinged romp “Ain’t That Pretty At All,” which shakes up the formula at the top of side B.

Warren Zevon's "The Envoy" (1982)

Warren Zevon's "The Envoy" (1982)

There are those that might scoff at my self-righteous resurrection of a lost album, mumbling to themselves about how albums are often deserving of their respective fates.  How low must my bar be set that I could admit such a lost and forgotten sample from Zevon’s nearly three decade long recording career?  The answer is: because I’ve heard lots of Zevon lots and lots of times.  I know a good Zevon release from a great one, and I can distinguish between the misguided, the mediocre, and the amazing.

This album leans decidedly towards the latter.

The Envoy has it all.  There is the fantastic, destined-for-the-greatest-hits track “Looking for the Next Best Thing.”  There are the straightforward rockers “The Envoy,” with its clever, then-contemporary political implications, and “The Overdraft,” which voices concerns of a more personal nature.  There are the tongue-in-cheek, tragic (i.e. typically Zevon-esque) tracks “The Hula Hula Boys” and “Charlie’s Medicine.”  And, for good measure, the songwriter reminds us that he’s not entirely jaded with a pair of purposeful, confident, and dare I say even romantic numbers: “Let Nothing Come Between You” and “Never Too Late for Love.”

Equally important to any serious study of The Envoy is the investigation of the songs that didn’t make the cut.  Wisely, Zevon withheld the overly eighties-sounding “The Risk,” a decision that speaks volumes for his clear mindedness regarding album sequencing, even at the worst of times. And it does makes a fun little bonus track, as does his cover of “Wild Thing.”  I would hope there was never any serious consideration paid towards adding this Troggs cover to the lineup, but all that really matters is that it was never included.

Even if these outtakes had been added, there would be no clear reason to excommunicate The Envoy from Warren Zevon’s body of available work.  There would have been less reason to respect it, but the nine tracks that did, in actuality, make the cut amount to a tight, smart album that knows when to crank up to breakneck speed and when to unroll a ballad, where to be sardonic and where to be sincere.

It is with great pleasure that I add The Envoy to my list of “Deep Racks” recommendations.  I hope you enjoy it!  (If you can find it…)

“Raditude” Revisited – The Weekend Review

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For my initial review of Raditude, click HERE.

By Chris Moore:

RATING: add a star or so

While I’m not convinced that I hit all that far from the mark in my first review of Weezer’s Raditude (2009), subsequent listens have led me to view the sequencing of the songs, if not the songs themselves, in a new light.

If my reviews were based solely on the music, lyrics, and album art, then perhaps I would have made the observations that follow a year ago.  And yet, reviews, at least to some degree, take into account the band members, their past work, and various other factors, not least of which is the reviewer’s state of mind at the time of the review.

So, I present the following reading of Raditude to exist beside my previous review, rather than to replace it.  In many ways, my first review is the superior one, and yet…

Raditude is one of those rare albums I’ve reviewed that deserves to be revisited.

Allow me to suggest the following reading of the album:

“(If You’re Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To” kicks it all off with an innocence and — more importantly to the texture of the album — a passive tone that contrasts significantly with the several tracks that follow.  On the opening track, Rivers Cuomo tells the object of his affections to “make a move cuz I ain’t got all night.”

The song concludes with an imagining of a time in this cute relationship when they “have nothing left to say.”  As Cuomo sings, “When the conversation stops and we’re facing our defeat, I’ll be standing there, and you’ll be right there next to me. Then I’ll say…”  This is followed by the chorus, suggesting that the singer will face adversity in their relationship by awaiting action from his other half.

This hardly seems like the rhetoric of a match made in heaven.

In the subsequent track, “I’m Your Daddy,” the singer retains the typically quirky, Cuomo-esque persona we’ve come to expect.  Sure, the singer is approaching a beautiful woman, viewed as a conquest tale, but his idea of “what it is I do” is splitting a cheese fondue over dinner and being prepared to “ape a goombah,” whatever that means exactly.

In other words, this is the sort of storyline we’ve come to expect from Weezer, although the motivation isn’t usually quite so stereotypical and superficial.

Weezer's "Raditude" (2009)

“The Girl Got Hot” is a study in leading with your crotch.  The divergence here is clear and nearly complete.  (I say “nearly” because, after all, Cuomo still needs to get up “the nerve” to approach her, and his pick-up line is the not-so-original “Hey baby, what’s up?”)  Still, this song doesn’t entirely alienate itself from Weezer’s previous work.  Cuomo’s sensitivity is there — “I knew this girl back in junior high school,” he sings, suggesting he was on at least somewhat familiar terms with her.

And it’s not as though songs like “No One Else” are studies in feminism.

The wheels really come off in “Can’t Stop Partying,” an unapologetic celebration of debauchery.  It has been suggested that this is a parody — or at least a statement intended towards — modern pop songs, but Cuomo has always been a writer who wears his heart on his sleeve.  This songs lives too much in the moment for it to be read as anything quite so metafictional.  Still, the f-word — the first use of it in any of their songs — is censored in the lyrics booklet.  Take that as you may.

“Put Me Back Together,” my favorite songs on the album after the opener, is a return to the quirky narrator who describes himself saying, “my clothes they don’t match, and my blue jeans need a patch.”  This song could be taken as evidence that the previous tracks should be read in the context of the album as a whole.  As Cuomo sings, “It’s cold outside, would you let me come inside, and make it right?  Here it’s clear that I’m not getting better.  When I fall down you put me back together.”

Quite the contrast from “Can’t Stop Partying” when he sang, “Screw rehab, I love my addiction.”

In the next track, he is not “trippin’ on my own feet” as he was in “Put Me Back Together;” now, he is “Trippin’ Down the Freeway” with the love of his life, overcoming adversity with a “will that won’t fade out” to be together.  Here, the singer is still conflicted, declaring “You withheld the physical love I need” but admitting that “‘Girl, I got to be with you.'”

It all evens out in “Love is the Answer,” as he sings, “You’re gonna find your happiness inside.”  This track provides such a departure from the aesthetics of “Can’t Stop Partying” that the listener may be left wondering if that track ever existed to begin with.

Weezer revisits the party theme again in “Let it All Hang Out,” a song about the singer escaping from the concerns of a fight with his girlfriend and stressful situations at work.  “In the Mall,” another purely fun song, regresses to childhood to continue along the theme of escaping everyday obligations.

“I Don’t Want to Let You Go” concludes a divided album on a decidedly Cuomo-esque note, as he sings of his devotion to a girl as, “I have lost all hope for being normal once again; I will be a slave to you until the bitter end.  Even if it’s a hundred years before you change your mind, I will be here waiting girl until the end of time.”

If you decide to read Raditude as an album of contradictions and internal conflict, as I do, then it is clear which side has won out in the end.

It’s the side that makes me excited for their next album, to be released next month, less than a year later.

Like the title, it is unclear whether the album is meant to be taken seriously or not.  In many ways, the title is a fitting one, as the album is concerned with the decision to either follow one’s heart or to be cool.  Often, it is difficult or even impossible to have both at the same time.

So, is this a Weezer concept album that everyone — including myself — overlooked the first time around?  Probably not.  It’s probably just me reading too far into an initially disappointing album from one of my favorite bands, attempting to reason out why it is better than I initially believed.  All the same, my concern was never with the music: I was solely disappointed by the lyrical content, much in the same way that I have been unable to take the leap from respecting to enjoying Green Day’s American Idiot (2004).

The lyrics haven’t improved in my estimation, but my digestion of them has.

For the sake of all the other disappointed Weezer fans, I had to share.