Music Marathon Days 41-46

davebloom:

Albums listened to in full (again, only counting 2011 albums from my ‘Marathon’ playlist):

• Real Estate’s Days.  It’s arguably lousy criticism to fixate on the general discourse surrounding an album (in agreement or disagreement) over the album, itself. But given the after-the-fact nature of the marathon and my position that this isn’t exactly criticism, I’m not going to pretend that my opinions don’t develop in agreement with or in opposition to other opinions. Days has puzzled me since before its release, when a fair number of music sites lost their collective shit over “It’s Real.” It’s a moderately appealing song that’s pretty unabashed about its lineage (early R.E.M., the Shins, a bunch of bands that sound like the Shins, etc.).  I guess it could be that “It’s Real” and Days struck a chord (probably clean and arpeggiated) with some fans strictly because 2011 wasn’t particularly flooded with straightforward rock in this gentle, melodic vein. But the best music of this sort adds some complexity to the mix—if not always in the music, at least in the lyrics. I don’t even demand Oh Inverted World-level imagery or turns-of-phrase (seriously underrated as a lyricist’s album, incidentally), but “I don’t know who’s behind the wheel / Sometime I feel like I don’t know the deal”?  Ugh.  Try harder.

• The Roots’ Undun.  I haven’t had much luck decoding the story in reverse that ostensibly provides the backbone to Undun, but from what I can tell, the concept in this concept album isn’t all that groundbreaking for the Roots, anyway.  What seems more crucial is the Roots’ continuing development from hip-hop act with live backup to musically omnivorous soul act that happens to have a frontman who raps.  They’ve been making significant moves towards expanding their sound beyond hip-hop since as early as Phrenology, but How I Got Over and Wake Up! (their soul covers album with John Legend) from 2010 seemed to represent an even greater shift.  Of those two albums, How I Got Over makes for good critic-bait as the lead-in to Undun, given the indie rock angle (Joanna Newsom and Dirty Projectors on the former, Sufjan Stevens on the latter), but 70s soul a la the Legend collaboration dominates. I’ll place the obligatory ‘Black Thought is the weak link’ comment here, since it’s been undeniable for at least a decade, but it’s increasingly becoming a reflection of his bandmates’ strengths and not his failings.

• Ryan Adams’s Ashes & Fire.  When it comes to Ryan Adams purported “return-to-form” albums, of which there have probably been a few too many (both because “it’s the new Heartbreaker/Gold” claims are usually being too generous and because his “bad” albums seldom dip below “mediocre”*), I’d put it below the very good Easy Tiger, but well above Cold Roses.
  
  * Except Rock N Roll.  Rock N Roll remains terrible, which I suppose makes Love Is Hell the only true Ryan Adams “return-to-form” album.

• Selena Gomez & the Scene’s When the Sun Goes Down.  My wife’s pointed out to me that the chorus to “Love You Like a Love Song” is pretty stupid, and I can’t exactly dispute that. But I wonder if it’s deliberately stupid, some sort of meta joke about the insipid nature of love songs that plays on the already meta nature of the song, overall. Gomez loves you like a love song, simple enough, but if she’s sending this song-in-progress your way (“here’s another one”), how does she keep hitting repeat-peat-peat-peat-peat on it?  And if it’s another song that she loves you like, I’m going to pretend that it’s Kylie Minogue’s “Can’t Get You Out of My Head,” based on the subtext of the beat (can beats have subtext?).  Slyly subversive or not, When the Sun Goes Down is almost perversely good, given how many casual pop fans will probably laugh off an album by Justin Bieber’s girlfriend on the way to the surprisingly monotonous Born This Way. Gomez has a surprisingly soulful, but non-showy, delivery, and pulls off slinky electronic pop on “Whiplash” like nobody’s business (including Britney’s, and she wrote the thing). I still question whether her “Who Says” or Richard Hell’s would make for a more effective “it gets better” anthem for an unhappy teen, but neither’s a bad choice, really.

• Sims’s Bad Time Zoo.  I want to like the Minneapolis hip-hop scene.  Really, I do.  If you’ve been reading these entries, you’ve probably seen me struggling on this front with Astronautalis and No Bird Sing.  Sims, one of the bigger names in the Doomtree Collective, grabs me just a little bit more than either of those acts, but there’s still something too … serious about this.  So far, Dessa’s the only one of these artists who’s put out an album I can listen to all the way through and not get bored or annoyed. I’ll probably keep trying, though, as long as this guy keeps suggesting them to me. 

• Smith Westerns’s Dye It Blonde.  Keep the Ronson-aping lead guitarist, keep some of the tunes, fire the rest of the band.  Those chewy, bending riffs deserve better than wispy, indistinct vocals and a rhythm section that hits like a pencil on a desk.

Individual songs by:

• Rene Hell
• Rihanna
• Robyn
• Rocket from the Tombs (2)
• The Rosebuds
• S.C.U.M.
• Savaging Spires
• STRKT
• Sebadoh
• Secret Shine
• Sepalcure
• Shabazz Palaces (4)
• Skull Tape
• Slow Club
• The Society of Rockets
• The Soft Moon
• Solid Gold
• SPC ECO

In which Dave tries to give me multiple heart attacks.