Decade in Review: 10 Artists Who Have Dominated the Last 10 Years

February 2, 2011 By Leave a Comment

Welcome to the teens! The aughties have reached their end and all of us who smugly ignored 2000 and celebrated the new millennium as 2001 rolled in are psyched about the new decade. Why? Because a new decade means that it’s prime time for retrospectives on the last decade! So, just in time for the Chinese New Year (shout out to all my fellow Rabbits!), I offer you a recap of those stars who have defined the past ten years in American music, those who are quantifiably the best and the brightest.

Yes, you read that right: my list is mathematically sound. All rankings are strictly by the numbers. Now, there are a great many statistics I could’ve used to compile the list. I have gleaned the record books looking for songs and albums matching any or many of these criteria:

  1. Spent at least 5 weeks at #1 on the Mainstream Top 40, based solely on radio airplay
  2. Spent at least 5 weeks at #1 on the Billboard Hot 100, based on a combination of airplay and sales
  3. Sold at least 3 million copies in the United States (“Triple Platinum”)
  4. Sold at least 5 million copies worldwide
  5. Was the best-selling album of the year in which it was released, as reported by Nielsen SoundScan
  6. Won a Grammy for Album of the Year, Song of the Year (for great songwriting), or Record of the year (for great performance in studio)

I have combined scores from each of these categories through a complex Sabermetric formula to produce a final score for each song and album, a score that I call the Coltonic Quotient. No, not really, but that would be pretty sweet, right? I just made a big graph of those six values and looked for artists who stood out. Enough with the exposition, let’s jump to the winners!

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The Best of Earn This: Colton’s Picks

January 21, 2011 By Leave a Comment

When I was first invited to submit content to Earn This, I saw it as an opportunity to express some of my worldview and to attack personal hotbutton issues in the context of discussions about arts and entertainment, specifically music.  My eagerness led me to kick things off with two didactic soapbox stands in a row.  These truly represented my most ardent beliefs at the time and still do so.

First, I spelt out as best as I could my understanding of what biases are most important for the sake of interpreting critical reviews.  Again, my focus is on music, but I have a hunch that a similar argument could be made in other areas of aesthetics.

Jupiter Sunrise, Band X, and the Wooden Beam in Your Eye (8/27/09)

Next, I attempted to express just how broad the span of “music” is.  By using frequent examples as stepping stones, I hoped to encourage readers to investigate something outside of their ken.  Adventuresome music inspires me personally but often garners little fame since it lies outside the mainstream, which naturally consists of those musical forms thoroughly practiced until they occupy the most favorable and deepest ruts.  And there’s nothing wrong with that.  Still, I would be listening to rock radio for the rest of my life if nobody had ever shown me the extreme variety available elsewhere, so I give importance to the task of exposing others to the same.

The Borders and Frontiers of Music Itself (9/4/09)

Beyond those lectures, my best discussions have all sprung from captured moments of surprise.  I can point you to three particular instances of my mind expanding.  These are the exciting discoveries in life that keep me seeking new adventures in music.

Aurally, my favorite experience was the pre-concert demonstration of instruments and methods invented and modified by NiCad, a squad of curious European virtuosos.

NiCad: In Search of Sound (9/9/09)

Visually, my first Goo Goo Dolls concert takes the cake.  Only after writing the review did I allow myself to read up on the band’s history, members, and discography.  That led to more hilarity for me, because, as knowledgeable readers will recognize, some of my assumptions about the group were… a little misplaced.

The Goo Goo Dolls Experience (4/22/10)

Finally, defying categorization was my reception of the new, old, or forthcoming album May the Box Burn Down Around You.  I would call that day unforgettable except that it’s not even a memory yet: as of today, the whole thing still has not been explained and there have been no enlightening updates via Jupiter Sunrise’s (shockingly active) Twitter feed.

Jupiter Sunrise: Comeback from the Future (2/4/10)

Here’s hoping the future is full of discovery!

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The End of Two Eras

October 2, 2010 By Leave a Comment

Goodness knows there are more active musical artists today than there were thirty years ago – or five years ago, or yesterday.  Just like the global population, the “band population” has a birth rate that exceeds its mortality rate.  (Don’t ask for an analogue for shifting line-ups or new group formation – it gets gruesome.)

But two particular bands dear to me have each announced their impending demise in the last two weeks: Mae and As Tall As Lions.  Neither is a pet band of mine, in that I don’t own a full discography worth of music from either.  I’d only be able to sing along to half of their songs at a show.

For that reason, my comments below will be largely from the gut.  I offer a eulogy for each band as the fan that I was, without actually pursuing the extra research that would be appropriate for a proper review of their careers.  If you’re in my age bracket and someone told you Counting Crows was splitting, you might feel sad and go listen to “Mr. Jones” on repeat for fifteen minutes, but you wouldn’t run to the record store and buy Hard Candy to see what you missed when you had the chance.  Just so, I’m encapsulating the experiences I already have with these bands for now without yet mixing in full knowledge of their careers.

Mae, originally or apocryphally an acronym for Multisensory Aesthetic Experience, is an indie band proudly hailing from Norfolk, VA.  If I remember right, they formed as students at Old Dominion University, a stone’s throw from my own alma mater.  Though never admitting to be anything more specific than “spiritual” as individuals and in their music, Mae was often cast as a Christian band due to the contract they had with Tooth & Nail at the time of their rise to fame.

Frankly, I have never been swayed much by the quality of a frontman’s voice, be it glorious or abysmal.  So the Dave Gimenez’s thin quality on Destination: Beautiful, which I picked up blindly on a girlfreind’s recommendation, was easy to ignore next to the album’s credible arrangements and cheery sing-along choruses.  (Want to know the secret to good arrangements?  Get a good bass player.  Every indie kid wants to play guitar.  If the last step of assembling your band is asking around to see who knows a bass player, it shows in your records.)

Destination: Beautiful was not a breakout hit.  Over many years, it grew on me.  Every time a Mae track came up in my random playlist, I liked it a little more than before, which I guess just means the album was “greater than or equal to average” paired with “my kind of music.”  After the release of Mae’s sophomore LP The Everglow, a few of those new tracks snuck their way onto my hard drive somehow.  The production value had leapfrogged to the point where Dave Elkins’s voice suddenly seeemed remarkable in a good way.

Oh, and Dave Gimenez had changed his name to Dave Elkins.  I don’t know which one is his real name.  I probably should have asked him when I got the chance to say hi after Mae played at the College of William and Mary back in early 2008.

Left to right: this author, Dave "Gimenez" Elkins, and the girlfriend who first recommended Mae

They played in an awful space on the second floor of the student center after opening act Tokyo.  Still, there’s little better than soaring in a crowd full of voices during the swells of anthems like “The Ocean,” “Suspension,” and “Anything” – though I’ll admit there were fairly few in attendance who actually knew Mae’s songs.

Even at that point, Mae had released a CD that I didn’t have.  I still don’t.  I did pay occasional attention, at least, when Mae undertook a “12 songs in 12 months” project that involved releasing a new song every 30 days that could be downloaded from their website for a donation that would go to charity.  Those offerings I streamed all sounded as high-quality as I hoped, but I never bought any.  Those 12 songs, along with an equal amount of otherwise unreleased material, composed a series of three EPs: (m)orning, (a)fternoon, and (e)vening.  How cute!

It was only within the last few months that I bought The Everglow and heard the album in its entirety.  My first listen was revolutionary.  The cohesion, range, and emotional force ranked immediately in my upper echelon among all LPs.  The conceptual design of the album is perfect in construction as the listener is walked organically through the course of an education in love.  The execution is entrancing if you’re willing to “fall into it.”

And now that I get it… it’s over.

In July 2010, Mae foreshadowed their oncoming departure from the scene, promising a “Goodbye, Goodnight” farewell tour.  The last two weeks brought the tour schedule, enumerating the band’s final shows, with the grand finale back home in Norfolk.  Amazingly, despite a line-up change that followed The Everglow, the band has reassembled in its original form for this grand seeing-off.  One lucky venue will even be treated to a cover-to-cover performance of The Everglow live.  Then, on November 28, the band will start “hiding away, embarking on new adventures, trying out life’s opportunities as individuals with freedom and anticipation.”

My involvement with As Tall As Lions was more brief and pointed.  They were an accident – the just-so-happens opening band at an Rx Bandits show.  I heard murmurs before the band came out from fans who had traveled far to see them without any fondness for the headliners.  The name “As Tall As Lions” meant nothing to me and my initial survey of their MySpace had left no impression.  I might have even been confused as to why a ferocious prog-punk-reggae-ska outfit like Rx Bandits would be touring with what looked like a bunch of low-key electric jazz musicians whose only use of a trumpet was for eerie feedback loops.

No such thought crossed my mind that night.  As Tall As Lions conquered me with a frenetic, tightly-woven opener named “Circles” that involved most of the band playing drums of one kind or another under a thick, milky vocal melody.  Go listen to “Circles” right now.  If you don’t like it, listen to it again tomorrow.  Also, you’re crazy.

Rx Bandits played a stellar set, but I bought As Tall As Lions’ You Can’t Take It With You that night instead of Rx Bandits’ new Mandala.  Days later, upon a spin, I felt betrayed.  Live, As Tall As Lions convinced me that they were a prog band of remarkable intelligence and texture.  My computer speakers were playing straight-up jazz fusion back at me.  (Albeit jazz fusion of remarkable intelligence and texture.)  You Can’t Take It With You got buried and I have never dug deeper into their past records.

Naturally, plays from a random playlist have accumulated since then, and a love equal to most of that original dumbstruck spark has been restored.  You don’t need to remind me that the line between prog and jazz is nonexistent.  These guys fill up the whole center of that Venn diagram.  They also make beautiful music.

And their bassist's face looked goofy as all get-out.

Word from headquarters is that these boys are calling it quits.  Thankfully, like Mae, their announcement had more dignity than a simple “Dear John”: three final concerts were announced for three major US cities, all right before Christmas.

The looming end makes me think about all the good times.  Remember that you’ve got to take the chance to love these guys while you’ve got it.  Remember that one ticket sold for a show benefits the average band far more than one CD sale.  Remember that it benefits the fan more, too.  I won’t be able to catch As Tall As Lions (ever) again, but I’ve got my ticket to see Mae in a couple of weeks so that I can say “Goodbye, Goodnight” to some brilliant musicians who couldn’t keep this up forever.

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Spock’s Beard – X (2010): Riding High on a Second Wind

June 11, 2010 By 6 Comments

Americans today don’t give a hoot about progressive rock.  Our parents grew up on Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd; the lucky ones collected vinyl from Kansas, ELP, and King Crimson.  Those heirlooms have clearly not trickled down yet here the way they have in experimental music havens scattered around Japan and Northern and Western Europe.

That makes it hard for Spock’s Beard, the international superstars from L.A. now in their eighteenth year, left standing as the proverbial prophets not accepted in their homeland.  Things seemed even bleaker in 2002 when frontman and brainfather Neal Morse departed from the group after six albums.  But now, with the release of X, the stalwart boys look to reclaim their crown as kings of the formerly-and-elsewhere-beloved genre.

Naturally, as their tenth album, X references their fifth: V.  Having run out their record deal last year, the band opted not to re-sign with any label just yet.  Instead, they funded and produced the album themselves and with the help of established friends in the industry.  Most of the money for the endeavor came from hopelessly devoted faithfuls like me who willingly shelled out up to $200 for various pre-ordering options offered before any recording took place.  Now that the finished piece of work is in our hands – 10 months later – was it worth it?

Ha.  “Worth it” would be an understatement.  This is the first post-Neal album that merits favorable comparisons to the band’s earlier work.  And that is the highest praise available.

Understand that this brand of prog comes with intricate time signatures, some eccentric keyboards, and long songs.  (The 8 tracks on X add up to over 78 minutes, near the capacity of an audio CD.)  Neal Morse was primarily a singing keyboardist, so, upon his departure, resident Moog master Ryo Okumoto attempted to maintain the key-centric attitude of the band to mixed results.  Drummer-cum-replacement-lead-singer Nick D’Virgilio then spent an album pretending he was a rock star before the guys managed to find their feet post-reconstruction.  This new album shows them gelling like never before and finding excellence as a fundamentally bass-driven band.

Two featured 16-minute tracks on the record are subdivided into movements.  Both “From the Darkness” and “Jaws of Heaven” are odd in that they forego the sort of blazing introductions or overtures that the band has historically employed to signal an incoming epic.  They hop right into things, the former beginning with a hard rock feel and the latter as a mournful western ballad.  At four movements apiece, though, the songs have plenty of time to pass through various moods and genres.

“From the Darkness” suffers slightly from a cut-and-jump approach to transitions that, while not disorienting in execution, leaves one feeling that they have just listened to four disconnected songs.  The abstract and vague lyrics (arguably a problem on half of X‘s tracks) don’t imbue any greater sense of unity in the story D’Virgilio spins.  Vastly superior in this regard is “Jaws of Heaven,” whose segues are fluid and whose movements feel related by recurring motives while each exhibits a unique musical character.  The third movement is particularly compelling: stirring far-off drums complement sparse guitar strokes and a soft voice, all held together by the persistent and understated bass.

Both suites conclude in powerful fashion.  Either would have been perfectly suited to end the album, an honor granted to “Jaws of Heaven.”

Four-stringer Dave Meros contributes his writing talents to “Edge of the In-Between,” a modest tune at 10 minutes long.  While not demarcated into sections, the song moves through a progression of passages with entrancing continuity.  The listener is never jilted by the undercurrents moving from a rollicking 4/4 chorus to an expansive 7/4 jam to a slowed-down bridge that alternates between dainty piano and sludgy bass.  The recapitulation that follows is reminiscent of the grand effect captured in “At the End of the Day” on V, a compliment not to be taken lightly.

Meros on bass and D’Virgilio on drums click so well that it’s easy to get the impression they are featured in every song on the album.  Soaring keys and crunching guitars are thus enabled to reach their full potential on every lick.

A strong case can be made that the standout track is “The Emperor’s Clothes,” nearly the shortest at under 6 minutes, beating out only the shifting and dramatic instrumental romp “Kamikaze.”  Written by guitarist Alan Morse (with added touches by his brother Neal!), it is a perfect example of great lyrics perfectly matched by effective musical arrangement.  The song tells the first half of the well-known story from the point of view of the tailor who has never sewn but has a plan to cash in: “Well you’ve never seen clothes / Like you won’t see those… ‘Cause the fabric’s so fine / It’s like it’s not even there.”

Bursting and driving trombones ring in the song and are later joined by french horns, a string quartet, and a number of wonky synthesized sounds to complement the core rock instrumentation.  Besides all this, there is a cheery a cappella section in the middle ended by a frenetic xylophone run.  Tempo jumps add to the effect of a song that is thoroughly fun.  Even the basic beat seems to recreate a circus parade!

Finally, a nod must be given to “Their Names Escape Me.”  The perfectly eerie mood created, so befitting of a song whose lyrics tell of a judgment and inquisition (“Tell us the names of every traitor who / Took up arms against the nation…”), continues and grows in tension as the band first sings the song proper, then moves into a list of names.  D’Virgilio captures in the tune my name and the names of every other contributor to the recording fund, all the while keeping legitimate music going underneath.  As the names are sung, the key raises steadily and the arrangement thickens until the eventual unearthly fade-out.

Led by Meros and D’Virgilio, with all intellectualism and virtuosity intact, X is a highly melodic and engaging product.  Finally, Spock’s Beard has recreated epics better than past efforts penned by Neal such as “Flow” and “The Good Don’t Last.”  Attempts to do so have been made on every record since his departure; only here have they paid off.  It is thrilling, after eighteen years, to see the boys raise the question of whether their greatest work lies behind them or ahead.

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The Goo Goo Dolls Experience

April 22, 2010 By Leave a Comment

 

Last night, the Goo Goo Dolls played the NorVa, a music club in downtown Norfolk, VA. I’ve grown up listening to the band on the radio, but never knew anything more about them. That is the perspective from which I will review their show. Names of band members have been fabricated based solely on their appearances because I don’t know their names.

**********

Sound check was all wrapped up. The lights were suddenly turned down low. To the tune of hundreds of screaming, drunk 30-somethings, the black curtain behind the stage fell to the floor, revealing… a large gray textured sheet! Truly, the Goo Goo Doll’s backdrop reminded me of a pebble or a thread viewed through a microscope at 10,000X magnification.

But the dingy, vacant wall was either forgiven or forgotten as the band rolled out into the light. Oh, the light! An imposing brightness filled the main stage and overflowed, washing over the audience to a level that I — perhaps uniquely on account of my youth — found disconcerting; and I found that I could look down and distinguish the colors on the shoes surrounding my own. Of course, there was no time for pondering footwear. One of the greatest bands of the 90′s had begun to play!

I didn’t recognize the first song, but that didn’t matter much. Thinking ahead, I had expected to hear about four perfectly familiar songs. This moderate-rocking opener gave me an opportunity to survey the characters prancing and posing before me.

The frontman, whose bronze wrinkles recalled a young Keith Richards, exuded comfort in his stardom. Clad in the manner of light, snap-button jacket that I imagine must be sold with a matching canteen, he flaunted his practiced smile and strut from the very start.

To the left of A Young Keith Richards, cackling and convulsing, was a creature the 1980′s had nightmares about. I’m sure they call him Freak. Stringy black emo hair covered Freak’s face which, since such a style is most commonly worn by stick figures in skinny jeans and tight black tees, recast his “medium build” as “pudgy.” Freak smacked his bass and jetted around like a fireball, criss-crossing with A Young Keith Richards in their mutual excitement.

In the background were three more consummate musicians. On the keyboard, but with a guitar slung over his shoulder and a mic stand nearby, was the spitting image of the singer from the FreeCreditReport.com commercials. Elevated in the center of the group was, I believe, Dr. Gregory House, no doubt taking a short vacation from the medical practice to lay down some drumwork for this national tour. And finally, rising out of the shadow of the kit to display his operatic lead guitar skills, there was Fabio.

Stone-faced and svelte, Fabio had parted his neck-length golden hair directly down the middle. He left unbottoned the top of his black flared-sleeve shirt. From his blank eyes, Fabio could stare into your soul, or at least in its general direction, so well as he could see you from his cool, dim realm where he stood slightly hunched over his beautiful white guitar.

I processed the imagery that is the Goo Goo Dolls lineup just in time to be ready for one of those songs that I had known I’d hear: Slide. Here the crowd got its first taste of responsibility. A Young Keith Richards could not support the beloved chorus with his vestigial octave-and-a-half range, so he spent half the song with the microphone held out toward the audience. Happy to oblige were the reveling working-class adults who had learned the song by heart through countless roadtrips and high school dances.

Following the sonic festival of Slide were a string of songs I had forgotten I even knew, including Here Is Gone and Everything You Are.  As A Young Keith Richards slyly substituted increases in volume for what were once high pitches in the melodies, I am pleased to say that his friend Free Credit Report Guy showed notable vocal prowess on the harmonies.

Then, between songs, Freak started chatting with the audience. He tossed a Rubik’s Cube into the crowd in hopes that someone could solve it for him before the end of the show.  As he trailed off, drums started to pulse and guitars started to pound. But A Young Keith Richards was strumming away on the side of the stage, so…. Oh no. No.

Yes. Freak started to sing a song.

The sounds of late-80′s punk started to emerge from the stage as that rocky voice crunched out lyrics about goodness-knows-what. I was far too absorbed in the visual flare of the nightmarish creature who had taken over the Goo Goo Dolls concert. Rote song structures and heavy rhythms on simple chords accompanied windmill strokes as Freak galloped back and forth in delight. The horror lasted for only two songs — departing, as it arrived, without explanation — but it may haunt me for weeks.

A slew of satisfying songs followed to quell my fears. Four black balloons were tossed into the crowd to be batted around during Black Balloon. Worry might have arisen around me, though, when A Young Keith Richards announced that they would be playing new songs from a forthcoming album. It’s always a danger to be declared a legend in your own time; people just want to hear the classics over and over. Undaunted, the Goo Goo Dolls pressed through a block of strong, catchy rockers that might portent yet more great successes on the charts.

In the middle of the new material, the boys pulled out Name, challenging the audience by asking how many of those in attendance were old enough to remember when that song first came out. As the cheers of assent echoed, A Young Keith Richards made sweet music with his fourth different acoustic guitar of the evening. Dr. House kept time.  Fabio spent the song slightly hunched, looking blankly at the audience. It was the same expression seen on Keanu Reeves when he first learned to stop bullets.

Shortly thereafter, Freak returned to the microphone, threatening to drive my heart to palpitation. I won’t review the two songs he spewed forth: they were much like the first pair. I waited, trembling, for A Young Keith Richards to reclaim power from the beast.

Once he did, I knew we had reached the home stretch of the set. A Young Keith Richards was handed his forty-seventh different acoustic guitar of the evening while Dr. House led Freak off stage, presumably to feed him. A ballad introduced as “terribly depressing” followed which featured, shockingly, the transposition of the spotlight onto Fabio for a ten-second slide guitar solo. Any longer and I presume the artificial light would have either damaged his complexion or turned him to dust.

At long last, it was time for Iris. This time the lion’s share of the song was left to the audience to perform. The bridge blew my mind as Fabio stepped to the very front of the stage for a wickedly sick shredding solo that lasted all of six seconds. On his heels, Free Credit Report Guy appeared out of nowhere with a tenor saxophone and absolutely busted loose for about twice as long. Then the toys were put away, the song was drawn to a close, and before long the band was filing off the stage.

The encore opened with a sweet little ditty named Sympathy and closed with a truly awe-inspiring performance of Broadway. The happiness on stage reflected the crowd and could be heard clearly in the soaring harmonies. With that bit of high majesty, the Goo Goo Dolls left us for the evening, retiring backstage to put Freak back in his pen.

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Pleased to Meet You

April 13, 2010 By 2 Comments

Common courtesy! Here I’ve been yammering for months before properly introducing myself. Without a handshake or a how’s-your-father, I would have soapboxed myself to sleep while you smiled kindly. Please pardon me, good fellows and fellowesses.

This site’s authors have set a precedent of revealing their bias to their readers up front. I have not been so upfront. It’s time to pull back the curtain and subject myself to your personal evaluation. It’s time to be proper, if not punctual.

For your consideration, I present my top ten favorite albums:

1. Spock’s Beard – Snow (2002)

What follows will prove that only the magnum opus of a progressive rock genius could suitably head my list. Although Neal Morse has maintained a dedicated following in his post-Beard years churning out autobiographical and soteriological concept albums as a solo artist, this last of his efforts as the frontman of America’s uncontested lords of modern prog remains his most engaging. For nearly two hours, an organic and thoroughly melodic stream of hard rock, orchestras, and jazz fusion accompanies the operatic story of a mystically gifted albino in search of purpose. I would direct your focus to the extensive range of genres that are perfected over the course of the album and to the number of memorable climaxes achieved en route.

2. Gatsby’s American Dream – Volcano (2005)

In order to give everything away as fast as possible, my #2 is also a concept album. However, It is not a rock opera and it barely exceeds half an hour in playtime. Gatsby’s defining motive was a bitter urge to flip off the recording industry in everything they did. Their abrasive demeanor and standard-fare equipment belie musicality that is beyond daring: it’s more like they don’t even care. They rush like fools into a world of metric modulations, 30-second songs, and 3-minute songs that rewrite themselves every 30 seconds, usually rejecting the suggestion of a chorus. This is the kind of music whitewater rapids would listen to. On Volcano, Gatsby’s loads that style with interconnected lyrics that spend the 13 tracks integrating Lord of the Flies with the story of Pompeii, with myriad easter-egg references sprinkled on top spanning at least literature, gaming culture, and, of course, the big bad music industry.

3. Liquid Tension Experiment – s/t (1998)

If you’re still wondering what I meant by “progressive rock” earlier, I don’t have space to explain it now. Think Pink Floyd or Kansas. If you only know one modern prog group, it’s probably Dream Theater. Magna Carta records offered Dream Theater’s drummer, Mike Portnoy, the chance to construct his very own dream-team supergroup. The result, Liquid Tension Experiment, is simply the most dense collection of virtuosity our planet could support. While indulgent jams dominate the follow-up, this initial release primarily features fully composed and arranged works… all worked up from scratch to final product in less than two weeks. LTE is purely instrumental. And if instruments can speak, then this is Ciceronian oration.

4. Pelican – Australasia (2003)

Another genre I must leave unexplained is post-rock. If you’ve heard of Tortoise, Mogwai, or Godspeed You! Black Emperor, think of them; if not, look up Sigur Rós or Explosions in the Sky. Sift out any remaining vocals and stir in the heaviness of drone metal, then stick it in the oven and let it bake your brain for about 11 minutes. Regroup for track 2. Pelican has received criticism for deficient drumming and is commonly held to be a lesser version of their niche’s fairy godfathers, Isis. But I find that Pelican’s simple and direct approach lends them a purity that makes it look like other bands are just trying too hard. Australasia seems comfortable in its emotions, as though these guitars are on a first name basis with calmness and tension alike.

5. The Rocket Summer – Hello, Good Friend (2005)

Surprise! A departure from the experimental and exploratory artists above, The Rocket Summer is one kid from Texas with a backpack full of jangly pop tunes about how wonderful life is. It’s true! So what am I, an apparent artsy progger, doing cheering for Island Def Jam’s premier church-going heartthrob for preteen girls? Bryce Avary is a musician of no suspect merit who performed every instrument in studio for his first two albums. When a band’s primary songwriter is a bassist, they tend to have sick bass features. When a band’s primary songwriter plays everything, every musical line gets infused with motion and intent. Layering of concurrently meaningful harmonies elevates The Rocket Summer beyond fields of alt-rock peers, and the undiluted joy in Avary’s still-maturing voice sends me to heaven.

6. Junction 18 – This Vicious Cycle (2000)

If you check the band’s extant MySpace, you might find this to be another stumper. More likely, you’re going to identify Junction 18 as my prized pet band, and I won’t dissuade you. Here we have four guys who never made a second full-length and barely toured outside of Massachusetts. They sound like any emo band from the recent peak of that insult’s popularity. My devotion is tied to their execution of a linear songwriting ethic in a genre that never heard of such a thing. By linear, I mean that choruses, when used, demarcate verses that each have their own character. Putting a different lyrical stanza to the same tune is common. Changing the underlying melodies, chord progressions, and structures of the song with each passing minute creates an experience of continued forward motion that sweeps out a coherent musical story arc.

7. Rx Bandits – …And the Battle Begun (2006)

“Ska” is a term I pray you’ve already met in some form. By convention, ska is analyzed into three waves (so far), and the Rx Bandits have a few toes dipped in each with two arms reaching for the sky. Reggae and jazz pervade the savvy rhythms of these impassioned rockers. …And the Battle Begun has its finest moments accentuated by horns, which were sadly absent from their more recent sixth release. A live recording process here ensured two things: that all of the Bandits’ energy would survive production; and that said energy would be multiplied through positive feedback between bandmates, all in one room, letting loose on jams and shout choruses. Recurrent themes and deadeye transitions add a transcendent character to this thoroughly visceral masterpiece.

8. The Cardigans – First Band on the Moon (1996)

I’m a sucker for Nina Persson’s voice. But I don’t follow The Cardigans just because that coy alto purr sends me into a fanboy daydream. Guitarist Peter Svensson has bona fide songwriting chops – and an appetite for metal, wonderfully enough, which is why a cover of Iron Man comes two tracks after Lovefool. (Lovefool is the one song you know by the Cardigans: “Love me, love me, say that you love me….”)  Later absorbed into Universal Music Group, Stockholm Records released First Band on the Moon while still an independent label willing to give some future notables from Sweden the chance to do their own thing. Amidst the gamut run by the Cardigans discography, First Band on the Moon ranks as the most oddball (in a cute way) of the pop. The arrangements are unexpected and full of zest, with bunches of instruments used, only a few at any given time, and not a single one out of place.

9. The Dissociatives – s/t (2004)

The irradiated rock generated by this assembly of quasi-famous Australians features all the harmony and vibrance you could want. It also features the “surreal for the kidz” choir, a handful of “dub freakouts,” and a guy credited on one track for playing “ice bucket.” Vocals that are both warbly and choppy blend in with an alien soundscape of blips, whirrs, and crashes. And yet the organic whole punctually plots out verses and choruses like beaten paths in a foreign land. If you’re scared, know that all the creatures surrounding you in the world The Dissociatives create are smiling and singing along. Evidently, the originality of this album defies description. More shocking still is the extreme catchiness of the melody that is the fallout.

10. Guster – Lost and Gone Forever (1999)

More than any other artist on this list, Guster might come off as plain. One of many indie success stories, another college rock band that outgrew the underground, these eco-friendly Jews now float along the mainstream between the sloping coasts of “alternative” and “adult contemporary.” But I would blindly recommend Guster to anybody seeking good music. Their consistent aesthetic appeals equally to fans of bubblegum pop, who get dominant hooks thickened by vocal harmonizing, and seekers of invention, who get uncommon teflon rhythms from Brian Rosenworcel. Universal appeal is as indisputable a reason as any to be ranked among the best.

(Get it? They’re “teflon” rhythms because they’re “stick-free!”)

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Transatlantic: Supergroup Spotlight

March 8, 2010 By Leave a Comment

Well I guess it began towards the end of 1996 when I received a call from [head of Magna Carta Records] Pete Morticelli and [head of Shrapnel Records] Mike Varney who wanted to put together a couple of “Super Groups” (for lack of a better term!).  One turned into the Black Light Syndrome project with [Frank Zappa drummer] Terry Bozzio and they asked me if I’d like to help construct the other….

So… They asked me to compile a “Wish List” of all the musicians I’ve always wanted to work with.  With Frank Zappa and John Lennon no longer being options, I came up with some other names.

These words were taken from the liner notes of the self-titled debut album by Liquid Tension Experiment, whose eventual lineup consisted of drummer Mike Portnoy (the author of the notes), bassist Tony Levin, guitarist John Petrucci, and Jordan Rudess on keys.  With no clear frontman and no vocalist in sight, this all-star prog rock dream team laid down some of the most fluid, engaging, virtuosic instrumentals ever unleashed.

They will be remembered as Mike Portnoy’s second-best supergroup.

Before the turn of the century, in fact, Portnoy worked with multi-instrumentalist Neal Morse to assemble Transatlantic: the contemporary equivalent of Asia, the grown-up future selves of A Perfect Circle, the prog rock version of… I don’t know, Chickenfoot.  Let me introduce the cast.

Mike Portnoy of Dream Theater is the premier living prog metal drummer.  What he lacks in jazz chops – and I say “lacks” only relative to the absolute greats – he proves unimportant through the inimitable crossover success of his primary project.

Neal Morse, now a solo Christian artist with a string of religious concept albums under his belt, rose to international fame as the mastermind behind Spock’s Beard, America’s answer to Genesis, founded in the 1990′s.

Roine Stolt, Sweden’s gift to prog, has achieved greatness foremost with The Flower Kings with his songwriting and lyrical prowess.  His work on guitar, no less, brings to mind a young Steve Howe.

Pete Trewavas has played bass for Marillion ever since Fish was there… which is a statement I encourage you to investigate on your own if its gravity is lost on you.

These accolades are leading somewhere, I assure you.  Transatlantic congregated for a week or two to throw together a brilliant masterpiece in each 2000 and 2001.  Almost a decade later, these musical giants of our day have graced us with one more taste of teamwork, entitled The Whirlwind.

As we should expect, Transatlantic used up just about every second of the 80 minutes a mass-produced cd can hold, filling that space with one continuous piece of music demarcated into twelve thematic tracks.  All four guys bring their own sounds to the table and everybody can be heard singing lead at some point or another.

A seven-minute instrumental overture gives way to the bookend motif “Whirlwind,” which lyrically sets the stage for tales of life’s oppressive confusion and how we can overcome it.  Soon after, “On the Prowl” lays down the sickest jam you ever did hear.  Killer drum licks pair with a genius jazz bassline to hold the ground while Stolt’s guitar and Morse’s keys take to the sky, cruising through a wild array of styles and rhythms with adept elegance.  That solo session stands as a clinic on how to show off technical ability while remaining genuinely melodic and engaging, all off the top of your head.

Expansive vocal harmonies draw your attention in “Out of the Night” while the striking guitar commands your toes to tap.  It is one of many tunes to evidently showcase team songwriting – in fact, this is true of every song on the disc.  Influences from Spock’s Beard and The Flower Kings take turns directing the overarching mood of each passage while Trewavas and Portnoy invent whatever ideal companion of an undercurrent they’d like to produce at any given time.

In truth, there isn’t much Dream Theater to be heard here.  Portnoy’s brand of rock is an outlier next to relative poppiness around him in Transatlantic.  However, in “Is This Really Happening?”, the metal beast is freed and a sonic onslaught of punishing rolls and blast beats coerces Stolt into some serious dark shredding.

Only one standalone instrumental was written for the album, “Pieces of Heaven,” and though it is shorter than one might have expected, each of the other songs contains a host of solos and constructed melodies enacted sans vocals.

Just before the reprise of the bookend motif, Neal Morse slips in some of his least obscured religious undertones in “Dancing with Eternal Glory.”  That man is a singing preacher at heart who has no reserves about his evangelical calling.

The Whirlwind closes with every bit of grand majesty becoming of a progressive concept album.  If anything, I was surprised that equal magnificence and pomp did not decorate the first few minutes of the overture, but the greatest swell was saved for last.

So as to provide some small facade of objectivism, let me critique the performance of all four musicians on this album in the department of vocal performance.  Neither Stolt nor Morse, who split the major part of the singing duties, will ever win an award for having a pretty voice.  Certainly both are capable, but with unspectacular ranges and what some might call an elderly tremolo to their sound.  Trewavas and Portnoy are nothing if not unremarkable vocally.

The music in The Whirlwind is at times technically extreme and often improvised or elaborated.  What will be far more salient to non-proggers is that the songs are long and, from a mainstream standpoint, circuitous.  Verses and choruses together make up only half of the 80 minutes, a fact which can leave unfocused listeners feeling lost.  This is all a matter of the target audience: some people find Transatlantic cumbersome in style while others see them as monoliths of ability.  Fortunately, those who have cause to stumble upon the group tend to fall into the latter set.

Mike Portnoy’s “Wish List” of musicians didn’t include a single vocalist.  Yet a couple of years down the road he and Pete Trewavas joined two frontmen to form a powerhouse collective of prog’s most famous standard bearers into the new millenium.  Any predictions for who will be part of his next collaboration?

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Jupiter Sunrise: Comeback from the Future

February 4, 2010 By 1 Comment

Yesterday a package arrived.  By the Amazon logo printed on the side of the box, I knew it was finally time to crack open new material from Transatlantic, Buckethead, and Jupiter Sunrise.  That last one in particular excited me since an ad for the cd, May the Box Burn Down around You, was the first sign of life I’d seen from the “collective” once composed entirely of vegans since the noteworthy Under a Killer Blue Sky.

This morning I sat back and absorbed all 38 minutes of the new work, and I tell you what: I cannot wait for this record to be released!

As I listened to the ten original tracks, all fully mixed and produced, I foolishly began to think that the cd in my computer had been completed and advertised for sale.  The band themselves disagree.

On Tuesday, January 19, 2010, a blog post appeared on Jupiter Sunrise’s MySpace with the subject line “NEW Exclusive Music”.  Below was a Tunecore widget through which I could stream or purchase the songs from May the Box Burn Down around You and the line “Here is a convenient way to listen to and purchase some new tracks before everyone else does!”

Amazon posted the full album in mp3 format for track-by-track $0.99 downloads on November 6, 2009.  One month later, they began selling a hard copy, which I purchased without fully understanding the finely printed caveat:

“CD-R Note: This product is manufactured on demand when ordered from Amazon.com.”

Since a jewel case and liner were promised, I wasn’t sure what to make of the footnote.  The cd that arrived wasn’t labeled in sharpie – it was printed with artwork matching the liner, which displayed the picture you see at the top of this post (also seen on the band’s MySpace) and a tracklist.

By all rights, it looked like a legitimate product, albeit one with lackluster art direction.  And all of the songs were there!  Truly, your guess is as good as mine on this one.

If I may push your furrowed brow to a fully hanging head, note that the Jupiter Sunrise MySpace makes the following distinction:

UKBS Line-up: Mark Houlihan, Ben Karis, Chris Snykus, Aaron Case, Marshall Altman (producer)

Currently: Mark Malek, No’a Winter Lazerus (producer)

(If it concerns you that all of my information comes from MySpace, please find an active page on the jupitersunrise.com or .net domain and direct me to it.  Otherwise, there isn’t much information out there on our intrepid heroes.)

What is problematic about the line-ups, you ask?  All of the songs on May the Box Burn Down around You were written and sung by Mark Houlihan, who appears to no longer be a member of Jupiter Sunrise.  Curiouser and curiouser!

Indeed, the content is very much what one would expect if Ben Karis split and the rest of the “collective” carried on, though perhaps shy on variety.  The whole 38 minutes remind me of Cherry Wine, originally recorded on the prelude known by fans as the “Purple Demo” (2002).  Heaven and Endless, the desperate and anthemic closer from Under a Killer Blue Sky (2004), receives two sequels on this sophomore LP.  (Or will, I guess, once it comes out.)

There is an overriding acoustic spirit framing every song, though plugs are far from absent.  Houlihan seems to have a close, personal relationship with his nylon strings, one he cherishes aloud in My Guitar Is My Pillow.  For irony’s sake, this final song uniquely eschews picking for plunking as a grand piano takes center stage.

Styles and rhythms stave off monotony, as Jupiter Sunrise (or whatever Houlihan-based poseurs these are) ranges from Latin dance Fountain of Joy to the haunting coos of Primary Colors of Darkness.  Yet an overall lack of virtuosity across the instruments deprives each song of the full potential that is so easy to envision.

Since I credited Jupiter Sunrise with effective use of instrumentation on their previous album in an earlier post, this weakness leads me to question the current composition of the band.  With the confusion mentioned above, this question hasn’t much faith that its answer is in sight.

Under a Killer Blue Sky has long been a niche favorite of mine.  With the band far from stability, I had great hope but shaky confidence that a subsequent outing would ever be forthcoming, to say nothing of the quality I had expected.  Now I’ve taken a gut shot from the unexceptional grade of the album and I remain in the ring to suffer more until I can find some closure and put to rest the oddities surrounding the CD-R that I bought.

Jupiter Sunrise: whoever you are, whenever you are, I hope you find your way back home.

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Offer Applies with Enrollment in Triple Advantage

November 23, 2009 By Leave a Comment

Historians tell us that the world’s first jingle was written by the minstrel Bartholomew the Profitable in 986 CE.  Hired by Percival of Shropshire to help sell chicken-bone dice, Bart traversed the countryside playing to captive audiences, replacing his traditional opener “The Tale of Sir Ywain the Bastard” with a ballad of 652 stanzas in praise of Percival’s dice.  The memorable chorus was permanently planted in the ears of all English men:

Across the streams and valleys
Of our flushing island home
Much finer dice you’ll narry find
Than Percival’s chicken-bone!

Subsequently, Percy’s sales increased to such an extent that he nearly altogether rid the British isles of barnyard fowl.  His example was adapted by all merchants who heard tell.  Soon the dales were swollen with contracted bards peddling epic commercials with the help of their road-worn lutes.

Moving forward a thousand years, we find that the jingle has blossomed into a virtual necessity for market-men in every market.  And while sing-along slogans have always adhered to the musical zeitgeist to ensure their memorability,  this continuity of spirit entails a critical divergence of form.  Advertisements measured in stanzas would naturally have been considered on par with the other merry tunes of a jongleur, but a modern critic would never lump catchy mercantile melodies in with radio pop.

Yet what is the difference between, say, the $5 Footlong song from Subway commercials and the latest Rihanna single?  The latter shows little novelty from one iteration to the next, just as the former is presented from spot to spot as variations on a theme, and neither one consists of more than ten seconds of original material.

I don’t mean to belittle the condition of the mainstream here; on the contrary, I wish to extol the substance of the modern jingle.  Chronically overlooked or perennially belittled, the songs that fill the gap between 7-minute stretches of primetime television are never given a chance, but gosh darn it if they aren’t music just the same as what plays between traffic reports on evening rush-hour radio.

Earworm moves product in any domain.  Miley Cyrus wants kids to keep singing her song until they can’t help but pay for her whole cd.  State Farm made their slogan (“Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there”) more memorable by putting it to a tune so that insurance shoppers will think of them first and check them out more often.  From an irregular perspective, we could say that mainstream songs are 200-second jingles advertising themselves as the product – and that notion has some merit!

It inspires me that we have reached a point in television advertising when some companies have abandoned mere sung slogans in favor of developed 30-second tunes that convey their message less succinctly, if at all.  Consider, for instance, this favorite Dunkin’ Donuts spot of mine.  Approachable melody, diverse percussion, thoughtful arrangement – a recipe for success! – and yet nothing in the lyrics pointing to breakfast.  Visuals and a voice-over draw your attention to the product.  If the song is part of the commercial but doesn’t advertise by itself, do you feel less dirty thinking of it both as a jingle and as music?

Let me focus now on a true paragon of melodic marketing: the Free Credit Report Band.  Their namesake website has elevated the art of music in advertisement by employing those rarest of performers, the live-action virtual band.  Honoring the tradition of Alvin and the Chipmunks and, more recently, Gorillaz and Dethklok, the Free Credit Report Band consists of characters not truly responsible for the sounds you hear.  When I search my trivia lobe for non-animated virtual bands, I can only offer Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, who would fit the bill if they ever played before an audience, or the Partridge Family, who maintained a thin veil between who its members were in fact and in fiction.

From their start in a pirate-themed restaurant, the Free Credit Report Band has managed to explore a dynamic set of rhythms and styles without reinventing their sound.  That is, the classic triumvirate of rock instrumentation appears across the boys’ takes on pop, 80′s synth, porch-front acoustic, western, and more.  Each of these genres is so firmly established as to allow a formulaic approach, of which these singing salesmen take shameless advantage.

As I implied earlier, cranking out a “new” hit need not require more than a chorus’s length of freshly-minted melodies.  When verses can be modified versions of the chorus or even three raw chords and a drum tick, it truly is that simple.  That much novel songwriting is regularly featured in FreeCreditReport.com ads.

I’ve said it enough, then: jingle artists who do a common thing well give us plentiful cause to label them musicians.

Beyond earning credit as artists, there is something more I hope to see commercial singers accomplish in the near future.  Just as Billy Mays earned America’s trust and spent a decade and a half coaching our purchases with his charismatic assurance, I want one marketing artist to perform their merchant ditties for a slew of reputable endorsers.

The Free Credit Report Band plays commercial-length songs that tell stories of misfortune that could be prevented by paying for the product at hand.  If only they would show up on a Sears commercial overriding my appliance price-comparison work!  How wonderful if they would caterwaul about a competitor’s weak 3G coverage!  That is my dream for the future.

If that goes through, only one step will remain for us to reach jingle perfection: imagine the Free Credit Report Band… then imagine Bartholomew… then imagine them together, backing the same company.  The jingle artist cross-over: coming by 2025.  Mark my words.

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Three Days Grace: Old Music, New Marketing

October 21, 2009 By Leave a Comment

Twenty-five percent of the songs on Three Days Grace’s debut album ended up Top-5 singles.

Twenty-five percent of the songs on Three Days Grace’s sophomore album ended up Top-5 singles.

Do we understand each other?  There is no room to question the credentials of Three Days Grace.  As Canada’s premier alternative-metal missionaries, they bring the rasp in their voices, guitars, and outlook.

Last month saw the release of album number three: Life Starts Now.  The single “Break” is holding steady at #7 in its 6th week on the charts.  If it rises no higher, is that a letdown?  Would you say the guys are losing their touch?  To even ask the question reinforces how impressive their career has been from the very outset.  And no, it’s not a letdown.

Since Barry Stock was recruited in 2006 to relieve singer Adam Gontier of lead guitar duties, the band has been a quartet, and their increase in number has continued to represent an increase in sonic energy.  Life Starts Now shows not only meatier arrangements – the kind of rock music that expands to rattle every corner of a room – but also technical improvement on the part of each musician.  Focus on their craft has enabled more engaging drumwork and widened the range of pitch and timbre accessed during guitar solos.  Even the bass, normally the band’s weakness, has advanced to a level of competence.

Minor deviations from the normal songwriting framework make themselves known without disrupting the consistency of the band’s corpus.  Odd meters are subtly present and there is a greater emphasis on solo work than on previous offerings.  Still, verses and bridges are right where you expect them to be, you can scream along to every chorus, and an iconic guitar hook remains the raging heart of every song.

Two probable attempts at ballads remind us (and hopefully remind Jive Records) why the self-titled album didn’t have any.  “Lost in You” simply isn’t believable, as an honest Gontier can’t hide the anger that composes his soul despite lyrics bordering on sensitive and clean guitars resolving suspended 6ths into warm-and-fuzzy major triads.  The listener is given more credit by “Last to Know” as unplugged strings and a piano lead us through a tale of depression springing from frustration without hope.

Three Days Grace has a formula that works.  Life Starts Now shows an increase in talent with no drop in raw appeal.  By this time next year the hard rockers may have another set of Top-5 singles for their collection.

At the moment, there is a peripheral matter that catches my interest.  Maybe the aging and unchanging sound of the band concerns Jive, maybe Three Days Grace is trying to compensate for the recession, or maybe the guys just had a cool idea and made it happen.  For whatever reason, the band’s website is advertising a colorful variety of options for purchasing their new record.

For the iTunes-fed, blossoming young gorger of all things mainstream, “exclusive behind the scenes video downloads” are packaged with the digital download to entice a purchase directly from the website rather than through, oh, I don’t know, BitTorrent, which tends to be cheaper.

For the collector who doesn’t roll with headphones growing out of his pocket and around his ears like ivy, a hard cd can be ordered – again, with bonus media as thanks for cutting out the middle man.

For real fans, the kind who come out to shows and tell their friends about Three Days Grace, a limited-edition t-shirt can be shipped along with the album.

Beyond that, things get interesting.  The “Deluxe Package” (now sold out) is priced at $60 and includes a pile of swag – half physical, half digital – compelling enough to merit serious consideration even from teenagers living on an allowance or fast-food wages.  Towering above at $100 is the “Super Deluxe Package,” replete with bonuses from a cd signed and numbered by the band to a “smashed piece of a Three Days Grace guitar.”  That’s as exclusive as it gets.

I recently saw a similar gradient of offers posted by progressive rock outfit Spock’s Beard.  In an attempt to raise funds for their self-released tenth album, they put the album on presale before going to studio to record it.  Merchandise options included packages similar to those marketed by Three Days Grace, headed by a $200 “Ultra Package” with an intangible premier benefit:

“…And finally, [you will get] your name written into the lyrics of a new Spock’s Beard song.  This track will include a vocal section where your name (or someone you choose) will be sung by the band.  This will be a full band, fully-produced song that requires a long list of names be sung as part of the lyric.”

Deals like these intrigue me.  Have other groups been making crazy offers and selling their new releases in such intense tiered packages?  Ten years from now, if the economy is back to prime form, will we still see offers like these for the most ravenous fans?

The answers likely depend on whether the music industry follows overall market fluctuations or diverges as the onward march of the digital age changes the game.  Personally, I’ve got my fingers crossed that this is a trend with some wings, ready to take off.

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