Today couldn’t have seemed any longer, this being the first time I’ve gotten a chance to sit in my comfy computer chair. Typically one would assume that a full Thursday would result in a full cover, not a partial one. I’m in the mood for something short and sweet; Arcade Fire’s short rendition of a Pixies gem is just the remedy. Win Butler’s take on Frank Black is superb, the music is sold, and everyone plays the role of sing-a-long crowd happily – so why oh why do they stop when they’re just getting started? Then I remind myself that it’s Arcade Fire and don’t feel so perplexed. Crazy Canadians..
Today couldn’t have seemed any longer, this being the first time I’ve gotten a chance to sit in my comfy computer chair. Typically one would assume that a full Thursday would result in a full cover, not a partial one. I’m in the mood for something short and sweet; Arcade Fire’s short rendition of a Pixies gem is just the remedy. Win Butler’s take on Frank Black is superb, the music is sold, and everyone plays the role of sing-a-long crowd happily – so why oh why do they stop when they’re just getting started? Then I remind myself that it’s Arcade Fire and don’t feel so perplexed. Crazy Canadians..
A band with one of the more ridiculous of the lengthy indie rock band names, Missouri’s Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, has jumped back into the game with a follow up to their under-acclaimed 2006 debut Broom. The new record, titled Pershing, will be released on Polyvinyl in the Spring.
After a quick listen, it’s clear that SSLYBY hasn’t at all swerved away from the meticulous pop craft of their debut. The frontrunner for the album’s lead single, “Glue Girls,” echoes this point breathlessly:
Perhaps the most noticeable aspect of SSLYBY’s new album is the production, which seems greatly strengthened and honed away from the fairly DIY sound on their debut. Their songs have always been unmistakably pop songs, and now we’re given a raised-bar production that cleans up the band’s sound– these songs, especially “Glue Girls,” seemed destined for the type of radio play that most indie bands strive for, yet they fortunately lack the lyrical and musical banality that makes most of what gets streamed on the airwaves so incessantly tedious. And if “Glue Girls” is a little too radio-friendly for your ears, don’t fret– there are plenty of moments on Pershing that made Broom so deliciously and continuously playable.
If you haven’t heard SSLYBY before, here’s a track from their debut:
I’ve been stressing out the past couple of days over an exam that is quickly approaching, t-minus 2 hours and counting. Although I’ve been splitting my time between academia and music, I have managed to make a fair amount of progress in listening to songs, EPs, and albums that I’ve missed out on. Some make me wish I had never opened my ears to them, while others are too delightful to resist. A young band (The Swimmers) hailing from the city of brotherly love (Philadelphia) are just the type of act that’ll momentarily stave off the frightening thoughts of Blue Books and No. 2 pencils.
The Swimmers have been eager to leave the no-wake zone for awhile, cataloguing an array of internet interest over the past year and garnering support from strings of successful live shows. Their debut LP, Fighting Trees, has been locally sold and distributed for some time but is being provided a national release on March 4th courtesy of Warner/Ryko distribution. It’s easy to understand why Fighting Trees will see a national release; each song offers up a sugary blend of splendid harmonies, plot thickening lyrics, and simple instrumentation that will satiate your sweet musical tooth without the ill effects of a sour face. They sound like a sugar coated version of The New Pornographers at times, entrench their music with an appealing Beatles influenced sound, and seem to appreciate the 1960s in more ways the one. Check out the piano-infused track below and stream Fighting Trees in its entirety if you’re hungry for more.. You know you are, it’s an American thing.
It’s time to play a little game called “Let’s Make a Deal!” We all know how to play, and the rules will be simple: I won’t talk about Juno if you won’t talk about Juno. Basically, I just want to prevent any of the anger, resentment, confusion, or sadness that arises when discussing every critics’ favorite faux-indie film. After nabbing the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay this past Sunday, Juno has been solidified as one of the sleeper hits of the year, sure to be a cult classic for decades to come.
But, what the blog?!
The winning screenwriter herself–Diablo Cody (her stripping name)–has gotten herself into a scandal that’s rather unbecoming for a newly Academy-Awarded young lady. The world is (oddly) shocked that there are nude pictures of Ms. Cody floating around in this porn-drenched petri dish we refer to as the Internet. Apparently people are surprised that Hollywood’s newest golden voice–the voice of the unintentional uber-hipster–has some “inappropriate” pictures online. But she’s a stripper. And she’s not even that naked. For the first time since I saw Juno, I’m on Diablo Cody’s side! Who gives a crap that there are semi-nude pictures of her online? She’s of age and she was a stripper. Come on, people. It’s not like the cast of High School Musical is getting naked or someth…
Damnit. Nevermind.
Well, shit. I broke the pact. What can I say? I got this upset when Little Miss Sunshine won for Best Original Screenplay last year. I know that people adore Little Miss Sunshine. To many, Abigail Breslin is the epitome of adorableness. But I can’t wrap my head around the fact that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences actually believed that it was the best screenplay of the year in a competition against films like Pan’s Labyrinth and The Queen. Sometimes I imagine the Academy as a roomful of white-haired, wrinkled old sages, sitting atop elevated cushions as if they were the Jedi Council of Coruscant. As they flip through the list of films released each year, I imagine them stroking their chins and grumbling to themselves, ignoring whole numbers of “genre films” like the science-fiction masterpiece Children of Men or the fantastic noir mystery Gone, Baby, Gone. Instead, they debate amongst themselves how to best capture the fancy of today’s youth, believing that teenagers actually talk like the characters in Juno and that Little Miss Sunshine is in some way, shape, or form “subversive” and “edgy”.
Crap. I broke the rules again.
Let’s move on to a more pleasant subject: Once.
When Once came to Providence this summer, I spent two consecutive nights in the theater. The premise is pretty bare: a poor Irish street musician meets a poor Czech immigrant, and the two spend a week together creating an album. The film was so heartbreakingly simple that it didn’t allow for crazy production values or even unnecessary dialogue to get in the way of the story. The music, written by the film’s stars, is equally bare. From footage of Glen Hansard on a street corner with his guitar to an emotional duet inside a music shop, the movie’s music is organic: it exists as a character in itself.
As the Oscar nominees were announced a few weeks ago, I felt a mix of elation and utter hopelessness. I was thrilled that “Falling Slowly”, the musical centerpiece of Once, had been nominated for Best Original Song. Immediately following that joy was the realization that it was up against not one but three Disney songs. Each of the three songs was written by musical theater geniuses Stephen Schwartz and Alan Menken, the people who brought us Pippin and Little Shop of Horrors, respectively. How was “Falling Slowly” going to stand a chance against the men who co-wrote “Colors of the Wind” and “Just Around the Riverbend”? But, if Once taught me anything, it’s that there can be miracles…when you belieeeeve (Stephen Schwartz, Prince of Egypt).
And the Oscars provided not one but two miracles.
The first came in the form of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova’s fantastic performance at the 2008 Oscar ceremony. I’d post the video here, but unfortunately the old Jedi Masters at the Academy have removed all of the “Falling Slowly” ceremony clips from the Internet. Suffice it to say, the performance was breathtaking. With the subtle addition of the ceremony’s orchestra (which later screwed Marketa Irglova pretty harshly the instant she started to give her acceptance speech), “Falling Slowly” resonated with a quiet power that didn’t take away from the simplicity of the two musicians on stage.
The second miracle was more of a disaster. But a miraculous one.
I watched in silent disgust as the stage erupted in the mildly racist musical catastrophe called “That’s How You Know”. Now, I’ve never seen Enchanted, and I know it was hailed by critics as Disney’s return to form. But somewhere between Kristin Chenowith’s sing-song conversation with the Caribbean Islander in jeans and the backflipping construction workers, I was turned off. It was almost as if “It’s a Small World” was transformed into a stage show, complete with “ethnic” costumes and typical Disney extravagance.
While I didn’t see the other two Enchanted songs nominated (that’s untrue: I stopped watching “Happy Working Song” halfway in), “That’s How You Know” is the extreme musical opposite of “Falling Slowly”. Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova delivered a stunning performance without the use of gravity-defying acrobatics, meticulous choreography, or unconvincingly joyous mariachis. Instead, the stars of Once proved that they could depend on the song itself to affect an audience.
I don’t want to sit here and take a massive critical crap on movies like Enchanted (I already did that to Juno and Little Miss Sunshine). Like I said, I haven’t seen Enchanted. While I don’t suffer from a cavernous void in my soul that could only be filled by seeing the movie, I’d probably be less disconcerted with songs like “That’s How You Know” and “Happy Working Song” within the context of the film. Enchanted is a Disney picture, and spectacle is what Disney does best. Personally, I tend to immediately hate any and all music that incorporates steel drums. I’m sorry, folks, but Jimmy Buffett really isn’t my thing.
At the end of the day, however, I’m extremely excited that “Falling Slowly” won for Best Original Song. Once has the potential to become a classic, a film that takes a simple premise and follows through with grace and sincerity. If you haven’t seen it yet, I highly recommend that you check it out.
And if you’re fortunate enough to be spending a few days in Tennessee this June, camping in a muddy tent betwixt the burned-out Baby Boomer to your right and the drug-obsessed teenager to your left, you’ll have the chance to check out Hansard and Irglova’s Swell Season on stage at Bonnaroo. And if you need to score some pot before the show, definitely ask the old hippie. Trust me on this one.
And if you’re not going to Bonnaroo, you can sleep happily with the knowledge that you’ll never have to learn how your body reacts to three straight days of booze, drugs, and hippies. Maybe you can do yourself a favor during those three days: walk down the street to your local Mom ‘n’ Pop Blockbuster store and pick up a copy of Once.
It’s time to play a little game called “Let’s Make a Deal!” We all know how to play, and the rules will be simple: I won’t talk about Juno if you won’t talk about Juno. Basically, I just want to prevent any of the anger, resentment, confusion, or sadness that arises when discussing every critics’ favorite faux-indie film. After nabbing the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay this past Sunday, Juno has been solidified as one of the sleeper hits of the year, sure to be a cult classic for decades to come.
But, what the blog?!
The winning screenwriter herself–Diablo Cody (her stripping name)–has gotten herself into a scandal that’s rather unbecoming for a newly Academy-Awarded young lady. The world is (oddly) shocked that there are nude pictures of Ms. Cody floating around in this porn-drenched petri dish we refer to as the Internet. Apparently people are surprised that Hollywood’s newest golden voice–the voice of the unintentional uber-hipster–has some “inappropriate” pictures online. But she’s a stripper. And she’s not even that naked. For the first time since I saw Juno, I’m on Diablo Cody’s side! Who gives a crap that there are semi-nude pictures of her online? She’s of age and she was a stripper. Come on, people. It’s not like the cast of High School Musical is getting naked or someth…
Damnit. Nevermind.
Well, shit. I broke the pact. What can I say? I got this upset when Little Miss Sunshine won for Best Original Screenplay last year. I know that people adore Little Miss Sunshine. To many, Abigail Breslin is the epitome of adorableness. But I can’t wrap my head around the fact that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences actually believed that it was the best screenplay of the year in a competition against films like Pan’s Labyrinth and The Queen. Sometimes I imagine the Academy as a roomful of white-haired, wrinkled old sages, sitting atop elevated cushions as if they were the Jedi Council of Coruscant. As they flip through the list of films released each year, I imagine them stroking their chins and grumbling to themselves, ignoring whole numbers of “genre films” like the science-fiction masterpiece Children of Men or the fantastic noir mystery Gone, Baby, Gone. Instead, they debate amongst themselves how to best capture the fancy of today’s youth, believing that teenagers actually talk like the characters in Juno and that Little Miss Sunshine is in some way, shape, or form “subversive” and “edgy”.
Crap. I broke the rules again.
Let’s move on to a more pleasant subject: Once.
When Once came to Providence this summer, I spent two consecutive nights in the theater. The premise is pretty bare: a poor Irish street musician meets a poor Czech immigrant, and the two spend a week together creating an album. The film was so heartbreakingly simple that it didn’t allow for crazy production values or even unnecessary dialogue to get in the way of the story. The music, written by the film’s stars, is equally bare. From footage of Glen Hansard on a street corner with his guitar to an emotional duet inside a music shop, the movie’s music is organic: it exists as a character in itself.
As the Oscar nominees were announced a few weeks ago, I felt a mix of elation and utter hopelessness. I was thrilled that “Falling Slowly”, the musical centerpiece of Once, had been nominated for Best Original Song. Immediately following that joy was the realization that it was up against not one but three Disney songs. Each of the three songs was written by musical theater geniuses Stephen Schwartz and Alan Menken, the people who brought us Pippin and Little Shop of Horrors, respectively. How was “Falling Slowly” going to stand a chance against the men who co-wrote “Colors of the Wind” and “Just Around the Riverbend”? But, if Once taught me anything, it’s that there can be miracles…when you belieeeeve (Stephen Schwartz, Prince of Egypt).
And the Oscars provided not one but two miracles.
The first came in the form of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova’s fantastic performance at the 2008 Oscar ceremony. I’d post the video here, but unfortunately the old Jedi Masters at the Academy have removed all of the “Falling Slowly” ceremony clips from the Internet. Suffice it to say, the performance was breathtaking. With the subtle addition of the ceremony’s orchestra (which later screwed Marketa Irglova pretty harshly the instant she started to give her acceptance speech), “Falling Slowly” resonated with a quiet power that didn’t take away from the simplicity of the two musicians on stage.
The second miracle was more of a disaster. But a miraculous one.
I watched in silent disgust as the stage erupted in the mildly racist musical catastrophe called “That’s How You Know”. Now, I’ve never seen Enchanted, and I know it was hailed by critics as Disney’s return to form. But somewhere between Kristin Chenowith’s sing-song conversation with the Caribbean Islander in jeans and the backflipping construction workers, I was turned off. It was almost as if “It’s a Small World” was transformed into a stage show, complete with “ethnic” costumes and typical Disney extravagance.
While I didn’t see the other two Enchanted songs nominated (that’s untrue: I stopped watching “Happy Working Song” halfway in), “That’s How You Know” is the extreme musical opposite of “Falling Slowly”. Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova delivered a stunning performance without the use of gravity-defying acrobatics, meticulous choreography, or unconvincingly joyous mariachis. Instead, the stars of Once proved that they could depend on the song itself to affect an audience.
I don’t want to sit here and take a massive critical crap on movies like Enchanted (I already did that to Juno and Little Miss Sunshine). Like I said, I haven’t seen Enchanted. While I don’t suffer from a cavernous void in my soul that could only be filled by seeing the movie, I’d probably be less disconcerted with songs like “That’s How You Know” and “Happy Working Song” within the context of the film. Enchanted is a Disney picture, and spectacle is what Disney does best. Personally, I tend to immediately hate any and all music that incorporates steel drums. I’m sorry, folks, but Jimmy Buffett really isn’t my thing.
At the end of the day, however, I’m extremely excited that “Falling Slowly” won for Best Original Song. Once has the potential to become a classic, a film that takes a simple premise and follows through with grace and sincerity. If you haven’t seen it yet, I highly recommend that you check it out.
And if you’re fortunate enough to be spending a few days in Tennessee this June, camping in a muddy tent betwixt the burned-out Baby Boomer to your right and the drug-obsessed teenager to your left, you’ll have the chance to check out Hansard and Irglova’s Swell Season on stage at Bonnaroo. And if you need to score some pot before the show, definitely ask the old hippie. Trust me on this one.
And if you’re not going to Bonnaroo, you can sleep happily with the knowledge that you’ll never have to learn how your body reacts to three straight days of booze, drugs, and hippies. Maybe you can do yourself a favor during those three days: walk down the street to your local Mom ‘n’ Pop Blockbuster store and pick up a copy of Once.
Seattle’s DIY bedroom-popster Throw Me The Statue (primarily the work of Scott Reitherman) released their debut album Moonbeams today on Secretly Canadian. If infectious, folky indie-pop is your thing–and let’s be honest, whose thing is this not???–you’ll want to give these guys a chance.
They recently met up with the boys from La Blogotheque to record three songs aboard a Seattle ferry for the blog’s infamous Take Away Show series. Here is their performance of “Lolita,” a song we first mentioned here.
The Pacific Northwest gets a handful of musical splendors throughout the year, one of them being the Sasquatch Music Festival. Each year the lineup gets better and better – 2008 is no exception. One of these years I’m going to make it out there (maybe this year) and gorge myself with fantastic music. Take a look at the list of artists below, it’s by far one the best and most comprehensive lineups I’ve seen in awhile. R.E.M. The Cure The Flaming Lips Death Cab For Cutie Modest Mouse M.I.A. Michael Franti & Spearhead Flight of the Conchords The New Pornographers The Presidents The National Tegan & Sara Built To Spill The Hives Rodrigo y Gabriela Ozomatli Cold War Kids The Breeders Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks Okkervil River Dengue Fever Jamie Lidell Crudo Mates Of State Destroyer Rogue Wave Battles Fleet Foxes White Rabbits The Cave Singers Pela Grand Archives The Little Ones Thao Nguyen & The Get Down Stay Down Dead Confederate 65Daysofstatic The Heavenly States Kinski David Bazan Dyme Def Vince Mira with the Roy Kay Trio Sera Cahoone Joshua Morrison The Blakes Siberian Throw Me The Statue The Cops Say Hi The Shaky Hands J. Tillman Wow.
