Record of the Moment, Record Review: Bon Iver - Bon Iver

Where to start with this record? It's absolutely stunning. I know that gets thrown around a lot (I have, after all, ranted and raved about many records here), but this record simply is that. It's a record that is unlike any other, something that seemingly can't come from this world...but yet, it rings as completely heartfelt, warm, and true when at first it seems that such a record would be impossible to make.

I am going to opt against discussing at length the legend and the myth that surrounds the ethos of Bon Iver, with the whole "cabin in the winter writing songs of heartbreak" thing that everyone else seems to think is paramount to understanding Bon Iver. Partially because I could copy and paste any Bon Iver-related review which will most assuredly host a painstaking analysis over Bon Iver's roots, thus saving me work. But the bigger thing is that for Bon Iver, it's totally unnecessary for understanding or enjoying the record (no backstory should be required to make an album "good," that's for sure).

The one word I would use to describe this record is: ethereal. It seems to exist in a plane of living outside of ours, but the record speaks with a warmth and sincerity. A peculiar way to describe the record, sure, so let me use an analogy even more peculiar which may shed some light. If a dream could be physically represented, I'd personally characterize it as silvery stuff, which is not a very helpful description at all. In many ways, it's sort of reminiscent of the physical manifestation of memories in Harry Potter, but fluffier, perhaps. Either way, it represents something that seems to us as entirely real but isn't exactly real. This bizarre feeling is perhaps the best way I can describe Bon Iver.

The record is essentially structureless: songs fail to adhere to traditional structures, being more abstract landscapes of places ranging from the real ("Perth") to not-so-real ("Hinnom, TX"). But it's not as if that each track decides to take the "Perth sound" or "Tex-Mex" and make a song about it as if creating a pastiche (for that matter, I'm not sure what "Perth sound" would sound like, and the thought of Bon Iver going into "Tex-Mex" is frightening in that it would be odd, but I wouldn't be surprised if Vernon made it work). Each locale on the record has its own mood, style of sound that is evoked during the track, giving something as location-less as an emotion a place to stay, develop, and grow. Each location's emotion is part of a whole and (rather ironically) contributes to that holistic sense of being place-less; Bon Iver essentially asserts that though there are places that generate emotional responses in us, the constant things in life, our emotions, are boundless. The record sounds warm, at home, and pastoral while expanding the horizons of sound and music-craft to dizzying heights bordering (and oftentimes achieving) the epic at the same time.

And I suppose I should mention that perhaps what holds the record together is Justin Vernon's voice. At the same time earthly and beyond this world, his voice is the extremely pliable tool with which the emotional heft of the record is solely based upon. Without its capabilities of a divinely-given and inspired falsetto through to the earthy tones of the lower octaves, the record's emotional base would not exist; given the scope of the music around it, the entire record would have likely collapsed into an overly trite heap of scrap. But Vernon's voice holds it together and creates a record that is far beyond the sum of its parts, creating something truly inspired and beyond here with things of this world.

This is a record is what the world has been waiting for, for a long time. So much of music now and from before is "dated" and bound to a specific time or a specific place. Bon Iver, though, manages to elude such trappings of space and time to contribute something absolutely beautiful, meaningful, and stunning in both beauty and scope. A record truly timeless that will likely stand tall when not only the music of this year is reflected upon, but in the scope of eternity when all things are considered.

100/100

ed: Sure, this review is late. Whoops. But in my defense, like this record, I'm not bound to human systems like "time."

Record of the Moment: Black Sabbath - Paranoid

You may say, "WOAH THERE, what happened to this guy?  He now listens to heavy metal?"  The answer is "This record," and this record only.  Let's be honest, this record isn't heavy metal in the modern sense.  It's like Led Zeppelin but jammier and heavier.  But at the time, that was way heavy metal.  No one really dared to go that heavy before.

But that's not the point.  This is a one-of-a-kind record.  I'm no expert on metal, but sources I've gathered say that it simply is one of the finest, ever.  I don't listen to metal at all, but the songs on this record are pretty sick.  "War Pigs" is, according to a friend of mine who's more metal-inclined than I am (though he is of the Grateful Dead vein more than anything else), the best heavy metal song of all time, and one of those flawless rock songs.  The second I can definitely agree with.  "War Pigs" is both a flaming indictment of warmongers in power and a maelstrom of sheer muscle and power.  Iommi's guitar charges along, while the rest of the band acts like they are, perhaps, dogged on by the hounds of hell.

I know that heavy metal and Black Sabbath in particular gets a rap as Satanist, but look at these lyrics, from "War Pigs":

"Now in darkness world stops turning
As the war machine keeps burning
No more war pigs have the power
Hand of God has struck the hour
Day of judgment God is calling
On their knees, the war pigs crawling
Begging mercy for their sins
Satan laughing spreads his wings"

What is Satanist about that?  There really isn't a whole lot of Satanism going on there.  It really is a whole bunch of talk about the end of the times, which is not very Satanist to me.  Especially when the song calls on the Hand of God to render judgment unto the war pigs.  Of course, I'm not really familiar with later Black Sabbath, and we all know Ozzy Ozbourne is a loony, so I could be wrong.  But back then it doesn't seem like that.

Other dudes like Christgau make fun of the hokey lyrical themes that Black Sabbath use, such as all the sci-fi, horror-film talk, but in the end, it's the same application just of a different theme.  In the sense that, for example, David Bowie plumbed the Ziggy imagery.  It's a little different, but you get the gist.  If all the faux-horror and sci-fi imagery was not artfully applied to the music they had, I'm sure Black Sabbath would deserve that rap.  But once, again, look at the above lyrics.  They're not too shabby, are they?  Look to basically the first side of the record and prepare to have your face blown off.

But yet, it is heavy metal.  I'm not going to put this on a whole lot.  But it is a great record.  It shows a definite Zeppelin influence in the same sense that both adapted blues styles and played it as heavily as possible.  The guitar work on the record is killer, the bass and drums are tight, and Ozzy sounds a bit like Iggy Pop, but in a much different mindset.  Invariably, from what I can tell, the Black Sabbath strain of heavy metal is dead.

This is my discussion on the genre itself.  Black Sabbath, while still trying to sound demented in only the way heavy metal can, always seemed to base itself a bit off of the Zeppelin model, relying on old blues forms, a stiff pair of balls, and a bunch of gusto to make the songs heavy metal.  While certainly Iommi shows his chops a whole lot, it's not exactly slavish in the way metal sounds now.  He doesn't take a whole lot of solos on the record, mostly just chilling and creating a mean rhythm track for Ozzy.

But look at metal now.  It has sort of degenerated into a bunch of people trying to outplay one another, becoming a showcase of technical skill rather than an art form related to the spirit of rock music.  Which is why I consider modern metal disowned from the rock tradition.  Metallica was the rare band, from what I can tell (another friend of mine is much more Metallica-inclined than I am), that straddled the line between embracing the tradition while still sort of being as "technically excelling" as possible.

But all these phonies running around trying to outplay one another miss the point of rock music.  I would make the claim that they actually are moreover descendants of the classical music tradition, where technical displays are actually encouraged and written into the music.  Because, to be honest, classical music is dying out.  Hardcore.  It pains me to admit it (having been an orchestra dork in high school), but it's true.  It's dying.  And somehow, a bunch of metalheads are the ones concerned enough with the extremely technical sides of music to save it.

Sorry for the divergence.  Seriously, this is a wicked record.  And I mean "wicked" in the sense that it's good, not in the Satanist sense, mind you.

Record of the Moment: Iggy Pop - Lust for Life

Somehow, it is hard to imagine that the cheeky young fellow who appears on this record cover to be the same gaunt-faced man who gave the death stare on the cover of Raw Power. It doesn't seem to add up. Here, the dude is happy. Look at that smile. The man on the cover of Raw Power looks like he wants to tear your throat out and eat it in front of your children. And just look at the title of each record: Lust for Life against Raw Power. One implies positivity, the other implies negativity.

But that's where Iggy Pop ended up. After the royal collapse of the Stooges, and a stint in the hospital, Iggy Pop was back in business. He'd cleaned up, essentially (though this probably isn't totally true). But the glaring difference between the cover of the last Stooges and the cover for this record sort of perpetuates that myth. And in some sense, the music is a little lighter. By no means does this mean Iggy Pop went "lite" on the populace. Nope. I don't think Iggy Pop would be caught dead going "lite," because that is simply the way Iggy Pop is.

Compared to the Idiot, the previous release, Lust for Life is a return to form for Iggy Pop. Personally, in my historical pursuits as a rock scholar, I consider the Idiot to be a sort of half-Bowie, half-Pop record. It's obviously still Iggy. But the music is obviously a predecessor to Bowie's groundbreaker, Low. Therefore, the Idiot is sort of the lost brother to Bowie's trilogy (I'd argue that the Idiot should be included in the "trilogy"; thus expanding the concept into a "quadrilogy"). Some people disown the Idiot for its Bowie-ness. I refuse to do so, personally. Regardless, Lust for Life showed that Pop still not only had his own lyrical edge, but his edge as a musician.

The drums that kick off the record instantly blow open your mind. It's big, it's huge, and instantly memorable (and apparently easily sullied and stained: I'm looking at you, Jet). And then it kicks into gear. The younger and angrier Iggy Pop is largely missing; here instead is an older, wiser Iggy Pop, who knows better now that he's escaped his vices. But of course, he still acknowledges their existence (see: "Some Weird Sin"), because who couldn't? Your vices haunt you forever. Iggy captures it perfectly; after all, of all the people who are familiar with self-destruction, Iggy Pop pretty much tops the list.

But this Iggy Pop is largely over that hill and out of that Hell, and he knows it. The way "Success" gleefully careens along, almost teetering on the edge of collapse but always steady...it's infectious. "The Passenger" is similarly enchanting, but not because it's necessarily a "happy" track; it's an Iggy Pop seemingly at peace. The barroom rock of "Turn Blue" is indicative of Iggy's still-present edge, both morbid and scathing in its attacks, but almost sarcastic in its musings. The track is a reference to Iggy Pop's previous struggles with drugs, as easily discerned, but for all anyone knows the implications are much wider.

While the music itself is nowhere near as ear-bleed-inducing as Raw Power is (which was intentional), that is not to say that Lust for Life is toothless. Tracks such as "Neighborhood Threat" prowl along menacingly, with Iggy Pop's voice of "doom," so to speak, going from its tremble-causing baritone to shattering screams and yelps in a heartbeat...all constantly affecting, if sometimes slightly grating (or very grating, depending on your disposition towards the singing abilities of Iggy Pop). The funk-tinged (most Bowie-like) romp, "Fall in Love with Me" stomps along in a marvelous fashion, with Iggy half-crooning the title line over a contagious groove that is hard to deny.

I could speak at length about every track, but I will stop here. Needless to say, Lust for Life is essential. Standing alone, the record is perfect. Its influence is widespread. Lust for Life is a perfect example of proto-punk. Perhaps not as "punk" as what is typically evinced (see: Sex Pistols and early Clash) but indicative of the spirit of punk...ever-restless. Not necessarily experimental or groundbreaking, but essentially free-spirited at its core.

Record of the Moment: R.E.M. - Automatic for the People

Recently I have gotten into R.E.M., and I'm honest in saying that I never really heard them (in the way of placing a song to a band) before I somehow got the urge to pick up some of their records. Listening to them, I realize that I'd somehow heard many of these songs before, though I had never really associated them with R.E.M. Of course, that's changed now. R.E.M. is excellent stuff. I could have picked any assortment of records here (Murmur, Reckoning, Document could have been chosen), but I went with Automatic for the People in this instance.

This record is probably comes out as my favorite R.E.M. record thus far. Perhaps it is because ths record is a little more mid-tempo, and little more "folksy" than the others, but I connect to this record more than the others. But it's also easy to argue that R.E.M. were on the top of their game with Automatic for the People. R.E.M. wanted to change their musical direction, away from what they had done on the previous record, but it didn't happen. Perhaps it was just the residual of what they were doing previously, but the fact of the matter is the batch of songs on this record could not be expressed in any other way. Tracks like "Sweetness Follows" prowl along majestically in melancholy, while "Everybody Hurts" portrays a more personal, reserved melancholy.

Of course, the word repeated here is melancholy. This record is a lot slower, much more ruminative on "life" topics like love, life and death. Typically every songwriter's staple topics, but Stipe and co. execute much more effectively than your average dude. In some ways, this is a perfect alt-country record. No, R.E.M. were not an alt-country band, but this record shows those qualities and proves to be pretty damn catching and gripping. That is not to say that R.E.M. don't have a connection to the alt-country scene, as guitarist Peter Buck produced Uncle Tupelo's folk-revival masterpiece March 16-20, 1992. But this record sounds the part.

Drawing heavily from the folk tradition, most of the numbers are essentially ballads. "Nightswimming" and the like, you know. While this record has a copious amount of sadness and melancholy interwoven into it, those subject matters are never treated without dignity. And that is key. Too many groups "embrace the sadness" and become sappy affairs. At some point, take it too seriously and the whole thing becomes a massive caricature of itself. R.E.M. deftly avoid this problem, even as many of those ballads are accompanied by string sections written by John Paul Jones of Zep fame.

I can talk and talk about this song and that song and the way this part in the one song does this particular thing, but it's really the whole album experience that makes it. Something you just have to hear. And for that, R.E.M.'s Automatic for the People is my record of the moment.

Record of the Moment: Danger Mouse & Sparklehorse - Dark Night of the Soul

So this is my record of the moment.  Outside of the stories that surround this album, i.e. Danger Mouse can't release this record without getting his butt sued by EMI, and just as the record itself, I consider this a fine release.  Now, I'm in no way familiar with previous Danger Mouse or previous Sparklehorse or even previous David Lynch, who served as a supervisor or something like it.  So you're actually going to get a (gasp) pre-disposition free assessment, which for all intents and purposes is a pretty good record in my eyes.

This record largely consists of Sparklehorse and a whole boatload of guests, ranging from the Flaming Lips, Frank Black of the Pixies, James Mercer of the Shins, to Iggy Pop and even David Lynch makes some appearances on the record.  Most of the songs are sort of languid, as in that they don't really hurry to get where they are going, which establishes a sort of melancholy vibe (combined with the theme, of course).  The tracks that break from this trend, aside from the track that features Julian Casablancas (from the Strokes) are somehow the weakest ones, though perhaps deviating from the trend of the record only naturally perpetuated that.  It can also be said that those two tracks (with Frank Black and the other with Iggy Pop) try to be edgier and generally more metal, which doesn't fit the vibe of the record.  Perhaps my dislike for these tracks is a mere indication of my dislike for the metal genre, but that can't be helped in any particular way.

However, every other track does a swell job of fulfilling the vibe of the record.  The Flaming Lips track is delightfully haunting, as Wayne Coyne croons about how pain might as well just be some sort of sensation, and James Mercer of the Shins makes a fine appearance on "Insane Lullaby."  The best track, in all likelihood, is "Daddy's Gone," which features Nina Persson and Mark Linkous.  It's the simplest track on the record, which allows the song to simply breathe on its own, rather than try and layer effects.  The track is almost more haunting and more fulfilling because of its stark simplicity (though I mean this in a Danger Mouse producing sense, not in a strict instrumentation sense).

Overall, I really like this record.  For the sake of listening to the album as an album, I put up with the two psuedo-random metallish tracks in the middle because the payoff before and after is more than worth that price of admission.  Also, for the sake of Danger Mouse not getting his butt sued by EMI, it's worth at least listening to.  Did he ever want anything besides people listening to his works?  I would hazard to say that he has no real other intentions.

Record of the Moment: Derek and the Dominos - Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs

By God, I dare you to find me a more emotional moment in rock music than this part "Bell Bottom Blues":

Do you want to see me crawl across the floor to you?

Do you want to hear me beg you to take me back?

I'd gladly do it because

I don't want to fade away.

Give me one more day, please.

I don't want to fade away.

In your heart I want to stay.

To put the album in perspective: you're Eric Clapton, resident blues guru.  Cream and Blind Faith didn't work out, but that's no real deal, you're highly successful, you can go solo.  Then, the worst thing happens.  You're Eric Clapton, and you fall in love.  Not a bad thing, right?  But it's not just anyone.  The girl you fall in love with is married.  Bad enough?  Nope, she's married to a Beatle.  A Beatle, man.  Can it get worse?  Yup.  She's married to George Harrison.  But guess what.  You're best fucking buddies with George Harrison.  You supplied heartrending guitar to his "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" and he reciprocated by helping you write "Badge."  Yeah, things are pretty bad.  And so you take solace in an old tale involving a woman named Layla...and the album is born.

This album is a blues album, plain and simple.  The ripping blues solos, the slow grooves and the fast-paced boogies, they're all here.  Wow, how it grooves, boogies, and how it just "feels" like crazy.  The rumor is that Eric Clapton wanted to be in the Band so bad, and it shows.  The songs sit loose, and it does wonders compared to the airtight production that has recently made Clapton's efforts almost lifeless.  Finally, Clapton has some foils to work off of, both lyrically and musically.  Clapton is normally genius enough, but he has had issues getting too carried away at times...Duane Allman and Bobby Whitlock provided brilliant foils both with the guitar work and songwriting, respectively, and the album pays off so much more thanks to them.  Many of the songs, too, reach past the five minute mark in slide-fueled jams, but they never get old, remaining fresh and worthwhile with each listen.

It has astounded me that I had never heard this album until approximately four days ago.  Of course I had heard "Layla," and of course I have thought it was a good rock tune (at some point, I could play it in some regard on the ukulele).  It had no context for me then, and now it does.  The song itself becomes a much more emotional event, but it moreover becomes part of a heart-wrenching whole.  You've got to feel so bad for someone if drugs don't even help.  But to think that Clapton poured everything out in this album is astounding.  This is an album for the ages.  I can't believe that it took so long for me to hear this album.  Shame on all of you for not making me listen to this album sooner.

With regards to regular blog business, I'll probably review the new Dylan record in detail next.  It'll be the first record I grade here.  Oh dear, right?