For all the abuse Ringo Starr takes from fans and musicians, the newly remastered Beatles catalogue represents a validation. A generation of fans grew up listening to nothing but brittle CD transfers, not the bright, fleshed-out mixes that came out in September.
I have only gotten through With the Beatles, A Hard Day's Night and Abbey Road, but the instruments pop; no more does the awkward stereo mix push all the instruments either hard-left or hard-right. The Beatles finally sound organic; look for fingers sliding against guitar strings, Paul's bass galloping against Ringo's fleshed-out beat. Having listened to those albums innumerable times, it amazed to find they had so much new warmth and depth to offer.
But that hasn't been all this fall. Here is a roundup of my latest listens, short and sweet:
Noah & The Whale, First Day of Spring
I really like this band's debut, but this song cycle about a break-up never gelled for me. There are a few good tunes sprinkled in, but nothing on par with Five Years' Time or Rocks & Daggers. While ambitious, it stalls on too many bland acoustic ballad and none of the female vocals which spiced up their debut; unfortunately, the female voice belonged to the former girlfriend addressed on First Day of Spring, so the best feature of Noah & the Whale might have been stripped away.
Os Mutantes, Os Mutantes
Where has this psychedelic gem been hiding all my life? A newer incarnation of this Brazilian rock band now tours, but it all started right here on this self-titled ancestor to My Bloody Valentine's Loveless.
Kings of Convenience, Declaration of Dependence: I awaited this third disc from the Swedish duo since I saw them perform the quietest show ever at Little Brother's in 2005. They don't swerve away from their delicate, harmonious sound, but they advance it enough not to sound repetitive. Os Mutantes defies easy description, so just grab a copy and prepare to be challenged.
The Flaming Lips, Embryonic: Love them or hate them, Oklahoma City's finest shake up their sound and restore the fractured pop they churned out prior to She Don't Use Jelly. A bold step for the Lips. Don't ask about tracks - I know they released a single, but the band hasn't sounded less commercial since Zaireeka. If you can't appreciate the music, at least appreciate that the band took a major chance after the middling, bland At War With the Mystics. Each of these tracks has a dagger for the soft belly of The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song.
Avett Brothers, I and Love and You: Thank Rick Rubin's production for avoiding the major label slump; the Avetts coming-out record has moments of lush music, tender lyrics and driving piano interludes. Just as the songs appear ready to decide to descend into pop-balladry cliche, the Avetts turn away and reward your faith. This is a natural progression for their bluegrass-tinged rock.
Lou Barlow, Goodnight Unknown: This record resembles Barlow's home recordings more than the gentle folk-rock of Emoh, his previous long-player. While that record never faltered, his reversion to fuzzed-out rock on a few tracks puts his shortcomings on display and weakens the solid acoustic tracks dispersed within. But some of the best music Barlow wrote this year already appeared on Farm, the latest from Dinosaur Jr., so
No comments:
Post a Comment