12. Actress – Splazsh December 28, 2010
Posted by theidentitythief in favorite 25 albums of 2010.Tags: actress, always human, darren cunningham, hazyville, lost, splazsh, tmt
add a comment
I have written about Actress (aka Darren Cunningham) already, both in my TMT review of his newest album, Splazsh, and a post on this blog about Hazyville, his 2008 debut LP. The most obvious difference between the two albums is that while Hazyville‘s atmospheric haziness ties the whole album together, Splazsh adopts a different atmospheric and stylistic guise for every track. Its coherence doesn’t lie in the way the tracks sound, but in the way they operate. Actress is impressive as a producer, in his ability to shape unique identities for each individual song. He’s not impressive because of his use of technique is flashy or self-consciously virtuostic, but because his use of technique is so subversive.
Stylistic conventions are the fuel that electronic music runs on; house doesn’t exist without four-on-the-floor, acid house doesn’t exist without the 303, drum ‘n’ bass doesn’t exist without the “Amen” break, etc. These conventions are the glue that hold subgenres together, and even once the lines between styles begin to blur, the resulting abstractions are always abstractions from convention; they don’t dispense with the conventions altogether. The strange thing about Splazsh is that although it treats conventions subjectively, it doesn’t abstract from the conventions themselves; it abstracts from the the expectations that surround them.
For example, the Daft Punk song “One More Time” has a long beatless section in the middle (for about two minutes, starting around 2:19). If you play it at a party, everyone stops dancing for a while, waiting for the beat to come back. The whole episode is about tension and release; the long stretch of quiet chords and vocal adlibs makes the beat that much more satisfying when it returns. Although Actress uses many of the same stylistic conventions as other dance music artists use, he doesn’t play tension and release; he plays against the listener’s expectations of tension and release. Splazsh utilizes electronic music’s surface pleasures without trusting them; it employs the details of its arrangements in acts of aggression against hollow, simplistic satisfaction. It’s tension without release, like doubt, or paranoia. It’s like the Greek philosophers tearing religious myths apart from the inside out. It’s brilliant, without ever emphasizing it, without ever finding the need to explain why.
Refer to those links in the first paragraph for clearer explanations and examples. Refer to Youtube for songs.
13. Mount Kimbie – Maybes / Sketch on Glass EPs December 23, 2010
Posted by theidentitythief in favorite 25 albums of 2010.Tags: crooks and lovers, maybes, mount kimbie, sketch on glass, taps, vertical, william, youtube
1 comment so far
I knew before I started this list that I was not actually capable of writing this list. I’ve heard a lot of new music this year, but I can’t claim to have scratched the surface in any of the several genres that interest me. I can’t claim objectivity, although the claim of objectivity is built into the fact that I made this list at all. It’s important to remember that this list is an expression of my aesthetic prejudice.
I’ve always liked electronic music that sounded moody and subtle. Although Mount Kimbie is as moody and subtle as it gets, electronic music can never rest content with becoming the mere sum of its qualities. Mood, in this case of these EPs, is a function of the way samples are treated, both texturally and as elements within arrangements. Given all the different ways that modern producers source and process their samples in genres as diverse as hip hop and dubstep, it’s amazing that Mount Kimbie’s approach acknowledges so many of those genres while remaining so immersive, so unfamiliar. It’s not the mood that’s remarkable, but the means used to evoke it. And subtlety, the other element in these pieces, reveals itself gradually, from the gentle way the songs shift in speed and intensity to the quirky way the synthesized drum sounds wander their way into synchronicity. There are direct and obvious ways to express virtuosity, either through the development of an entire track or through the planned asymmetry of a repeating drum loop. But Mount Kimbie’s virtuosity is indirect. It’s sneaky. If you haven’t been paying attention, you’ve already missed it.
It’s not the “what” of mood and subtlety that impresses me, but the “how.” This is why it doesn’t bother me that I spent a whole paragraph talking about two virtues that aren’t central to any valid system of aesthetics. Mood and subtlety are peripheral details that surround a central necessity: music must bear an intelligible message. Its form and intent must account for Man as a whole. Maybes and Sketch on Glass are brief, unassuming EPs that don’t say much and don’t take long saying it. But there’s something buried in the details, something that captures my imagination.
Remember, kids: this list is an expression of prejudice.
MY TMT REVIEW OF MOUNT KIMBIE’S DEBUT LP CROOKS AND LOVERS
THE MAYBES EP IN ITS ENTIRETY, COURTESY OF YOUTUBE
01 – MAYBES
02 – WILLIAM
03 – VERTICAL
04 – TAPS
14. The Roots – How I Got Over December 21, 2010
Posted by theidentitythief in favorite 25 albums of 2010.Tags: auto-tune, blu, dear god, dirty projectors, game theory, how i got over, hustla, john legend, monsters of folk, peace of light, phonte, phrenology, pitchfork, radio daze, right on, rising down, the day, the fire, the roots, things fall apart, tipping point, web 20/20
add a comment
IMMUNITY TO CRITICISM
The Roots are peerless. And they are probably incapable of releasing a bad album. I don’t just mean that every LP they release is “solid,” but that they keep moving. Instead of being able to evaluate each release on its own merits, critics who approach the band’s work tend to make two mistakes: first, they take the high level of musicianship for granted, and second, they tie every album’s shift in mood to some made-up narrative. Either it’s “their darkest yet,” or it continues in the tradition of such-and-such album from the past, or it’s a surrender to this or that element of pressure from their ever-widening fan base. The Roots are perfectionist enough, however, that critics’ evaluations rarely stick. When you look back at their career, you don’t see an easily digestible narrative; all you see is a string of great records.
BEWARE OF NARRATIVES
We have a black president now, and the Roots are the house band on a popular late night talk show. What better time for a record with a title as optimistic as How I Got Over? This album represents a complete spiritual 180 from 2008′s Rising Down, a project that had deepened Game Theory‘s sense of indignation at the ills of the modern world. Indignation here transforms itself to a cautious and sober sense of responsibility, an attitude that acknowledges the ability to take charge of one’s circumstances in the face of worldly pressures and doubt. Rising Down had also abandoned the novel approach to sampling and interpolation that characterized The Tipping Point and Game Theory, trading it for a heavy, sharp-edged darkness that hung over the entire record like a cloud of dust. With How I Got Over, the Roots’ ability to draw from other genres resurfaces, but instead of sounding like the results of experiments or jam sessions, the band ties these collaborations into an album whose emotional arc is more focused than it’s ever been. While the band sounds more serene here than they’ve sounded in over a decade, it’s not because they’ve returned to the aesthetic of Things Fall Apart. It’s just that this is the first time since then that they sound this comfortable with themselves.
STRENGTH IN NUMBERS
- The three ladies from the Dirty Projectors show up on “A Peace of Light,” the album’s opening track. I didn’t know it was them until I looked at the credits. Like the Roots themselves, they display their chops without being flashy.
- LA rapper Blu guest stars on “Radio Daze” and “The Day,” counterbalancing Phonte‘s insufferable backpacker positivity with verses full of both unflinching honesty and tricky internal rhyme. He may have scored the album’s best line, in a verse discussing the difficulty of facing a new day: “…like a child with an upright bass, we can’t stand it.”
- “Dear God 2.0″ reworks a Monsters of Folk song, and “Right On” puts an old Joanna Newsom tune in a bizarrely fitting setting. What’s surprising isn’t that the Roots are drawing inspiration from indie musicians, but that the interpolations sound so natural, that they fit so well into the album’s flow.
- Two songs with John Legend choruses (“Doin’ it Again” and “The Fire”) provide the album’s spiritual high point, giving Black Thought the space to stretch out without sharing the spotlight with his supporting cast of MCs (Truck North, P.O.R.N., Dice Raw).
P.S.
The album’s last two songs bear comment as well. “Web 20/20″ offers a much-needed dose of rap for rap’s sake. It’s the only song on the album whose shoulders aren’t burdened with heavy spiritual themes. And “Hustla,” with its use of an auto-tuned sample of a crying infant, is the only song here that references any of rap’s current trends.
Thanks, the Roots! I will continue to buy every album you put out, without ever listening to them first.
BOOK OF RIGHT ON vs RIGHT ON
HUSTLA
15 – Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti – Before Today December 20, 2010
Posted by theidentitythief in favorite 25 albums of 2010.Tags: angelfire, animal collective, ariel pink, before today, for kate i wait, gray sunset, haunted graffiti, nerve, paw tracks, round and round
add a comment
NOBODY REMEMBERS ANGELFIRE:
Ariel Pink has a shitty angelfire website that looks like it hasn’t been updated in nearly half a decade. He’s been making home recordings in an apartment somewhere near LA for several years now, recording countless songs on tapes and CD-Rs using only a couple instruments, his voice, and some terrible recording equipment. It’s become fashionable in some corners of the internet to make music that exhibits nostalgia for a nonexistent past, music that’s drowned in haze and low fidelity, but Ariel Pink doesn’t come across as a member of a scene or a blog-sponsored subgenre. When you listen to his music (once you realize that you aren’t listening to cast-off soft rock b-sides from the early 80s), you know you’re listening to a guy who is in love with both music and obscurity, not as a stance, but as a way of life.
A SHORT BACKGROUND TO THIS ALBUM:
Ariel Pink passed a demo to Animal Collective a few years ago, who signed him to their Paw Tracks label, making him the first artist on the label who wasn’t part of their band. They made him release albums and support those albums on tour. For a while, his live show featured him singing along to backing tracks, but eventually he put a band together, and Before Today is the first of his releases that includes a group of actual musicians.
WHY LISTEN?:
Before Today has a direct-from-the-subconscious feel to it, which refers both to the fractured coherence of the lyrics and the album’s fuzzy, damaged sound quality. Ariel Pink has buried these songs in their own low fidelity, but the aural coating is neither a weakness nor an excuse; it’s an element of character. All music is a means to an end, but the end in this case is elusive, difficult to define. Or, in A.P.’s words, “something that I think is fleeting in every artist. It’s like a stage in their development. Not at the beginning, but two or three steps away from the beginning and everything after is shit.” His songs are complex to the point of being baroque, but A.P.’s musical personality has so much gravity that the music never floats away from the central mystery of his identity, of the motives that drive his creativity. He’s maddeningly vague, but not sloppy; he’s maddeningly prolific, but he’s not just spinning his wheels.
“It’s almost like making art is a means to an end for me. The day that I don’t do it anymore will be the day that I’m finally happy. It’ll have achieved its goal, so to speak. I set out to purge something, not just endlessly.”
As long as I’m pulling quotes from these 4-year-old interviews, here’s my favorite bit: a response to a question about sexuality in modern rock music.
“There aren’t many sexy rockers. There’s something sexy about Gwen Stefani getting into rap. There certainly aren’t enough Axel Roses. The thing is rappers have it down. What is the dream? “I want money and I want pussy.” So how do you ensure you get that? You make an album, a hit song, and say, “I want to park my car in your garage. I want to take you to the candy shop.” So that’s why rappers get all the pussy, they’re explaining exactly what they want from their groupies, so of course they’re going to get it. White indie boys are way more confused. They actually want that, but they don’t know how to get it. They think by whining, “I don’t understand myself, and she left me,” they’re going to get it. What they get is a bunch of shy non-assertive girls. They’re not doing it for the sex — so then for what, some kind of legacy? That’s so pansy.”
(from Nerve)
OTHER INTERVIEW
ANOTHER INTERVIEW
BEFORE TODAY‘S LEAD SINGLE? WAIT FOR THE CHORUS. IT’S RIGHT AFTER THE PART WHERE HE ANSWERS THE PHONE
OLD WEIRD VIDEOS
16. Wale – Black and Yellow December 20, 2010
Posted by theidentitythief in favorite 25 albums of 2010.Tags: black and yellow, bun b, curren$y, jean grae, john mayer, lady gaga, letter, mike tomlin, mixtape about nothing, no hands, o let's do it, unthinkable, waka flocka, wale, wiz khalifa
add a comment
This mixtape is this list’s wildcard; it owes its place on the list to the accidents of my own perspective. I haven’t heard anything Wale has put out since 2008′s excellent Mixtape About Nothing, which was a Seinfeld-themed affair with excellent beat selection, topical breadth, and displays of lyrical dexterity. I missed Wale’s major label debut and the two tapes that followed it, and hadn’t really thought too much about him until I heard him on the radio, rapping on a terrible Waka Flocka song called “No Hands.” Mixtape About Nothing portrayed a Wale whose mind was split between an awareness of his own unique strengths (a connection to D.C.’s music culture, great taste in beats, a reservoir of uncanny metaphors) and a conscience troubled at the spiritual and moral implications of his lifestyle. It’s similar territory that Kanye and Drake have been exploring lately, but it’s not as central to his music as it is to theirs. Wale is more of a rapper’s rapper, more capable than either Yeezy or Drizzy of rattling off astonishing freestyles, his effortless and shape-shifting flow referencing everything from Family Guy to college basketball.
Wale is growing up, and that’s a mixed blessing. What registered as a refreshing topical variety two years ago has recently deepened into self-contradiction. For every sensitive, reflective “relationship song” (i.e., “Unthinkable,” “Goodbye”) there’s a verse whose every other line extols the joys of promiscuity (i.e., “Mike Tomlin”). And counterbalancing the social consciousness of the John Mayer-assisted “Letter” is a line in the “O Let’s Do It” freestyle about AKs. Perhaps these comparisons are unequal; Wale spends more time exploring the limits of his creativity than he does reveling in modern hip hop’s moral deficiencies. It’s just that what feels like a necessary evil in the hands of someone like Waka Flocka feels like an excuse with someone as creative as Wale, someone whose mind is so startlingly nimble and versatile, someone who is as likely to collaborate with the Roots as with Lady Gaga. It seems that, in spite of his growth in terms of style and ability, he is still bewildered and overwhelmed by the untapped limits of his own potential.
But all that stuff is beside the point. You should listen to this tape because Wale raps his ass off. And his guests do too: Wiz Khalifa, Bun B, Curren$y, Jean Grae, etc. And not only does he murder a couple radio beats, but there’s also a few gems on here by guys like 9th Wonder. You won’t find too much on the internet about Black and Yellow, but more than most of what I’ve heard this year, it’s a great hour of hip hop.
17. Sleigh Bells – Treats December 14, 2010
Posted by theidentitythief in favorite 25 albums of 2010, Uncategorized.Tags: a/b machines, alexis krauss, derek miller, infinity guitars, loudness war, loveless, mbv, my bloody valentine, sleigh bells, treats, wavves, wavvves
add a comment
I hereby declare Sleigh Bells as the silver medalists in the loudness war. This year’s Treats did not quite manage to dethrone the towering cacophony of Wavvves, the second LP by notorious indie noise-surf-rock band Wavves, but it has still achieved an deafness-inducing resonance in the hearts of listeners. There isn’t as much to say about Treats as most of the other albums on this list; it’s pretty clear within a minute or two what this album is: a irresponsible, perversely satisfying 32-minute statement of purpose.
It cannot be overemphasized that this album’s loudness is its main selling point, and that its loudness is also the thing that is most likely to turn some listeners off. It’s aesthetic provocation. In this respect, Treats can be compared to My Bloody Valentine’s landmark album Loveless. Sleigh Bells has a really loud live show, but MBV’s is a lot louder (if you ever see MBV and don’t take them up on their offer of earplugs at the door, you will regret it for the rest of your life). It’s strange that even though MBV is one of the loudest bands in rock history, Loveless was mastered remarkably quietly. Besides their volume, they are remembered for how vague their music sounded; the guitars sounded like an ocean and the androgynous wash of vocals featured lyrics that listeners have been mis-hearing for well over a decade. “Soon” was a popular radio single that, beyond being nearly unintelligible, barely even had a melody. But underneath Loveless‘s highly stylized surface was a collection of simple, well-written songs. With Treats, too, the surface is overwhelming and potentially distracting, but if guitarist/producer Derek Miller hadn’t settled on a batch of compelling, straightforward sing-along melodies, the facade would have crumbled; the project would have been aesthetically offensive instead of provocative.
With drum programming that’s equal parts crunk hip hop and hardcore punk (not many producers outside Chicago have a taste for 808 claps that are that loud), guitars that run the gamut from metal to classic surf rock, and Alexis Krauss’s vocals, which range from well-mannered, diatonic chanting to uninhibited, full-on screaming, Sleigh Bells offer 2010′s most coherent piece of musical terrorism. It’s brazenly provocative, but not hollow; its strong sense of melody and swaggering minimalism exemplify some of modern music’s more extreme affinities without falling prey to them.
YOU GET THE IDEA
AMAZING TASTE IN PANTS, NOT LYRICS
18. Curren$y – Pilot Talk II December 14, 2010
Posted by theidentitythief in favorite 25 albums of 2010.Tags: camp lo, curren$y, flight briefing, luchini, michael knight, pilot talk, ski beatz, smokee robinson
add a comment
Pilot Talk II is the latest of Curren$y’s three 2010 releases, including the mixtape Smokee Robinson and this summer’s Pilot Talk. It is also the latest of Curren$y’s three 2010 releases to make its way onto this list. I had previously settled on Robinson over the original Pilot Talk simply because Pilot Talk seemed to commit the rare crime of being entirely too laid-back, but then this sequel came out of nowhere. I gave it a first spin on my stereo last week at the tail end of a bottle of wine. I don’t know whether it was the grapes, the rhymes, or the beats, but I didn’t stop smiling for almost an hour.
Curren$y makes his job look easy. Although he boasts a unique, recognizable style, he doesn’t strain himself trying to innovate. He sticks to his guns, never breaking a sweat, writing dense, nimble verses that pack in abstract ideas while the phrasing playfully evades perfect symmetry. Although he’s a dedicated underground rapper who, since leaving Lil’ Wayne’s Young Money crew in 2006, seems to have grown attached to his creative independence, he doesn’t try to shoulder the burden of saving rap or taking it back to an imaginary golden age. Instead, he stays loyal to a few key topics (weed, women, cars, how cool he is, etc.), and to his signature taste in beats. His music has an indefinably classic sound, without exactly being another soul revival. It stands slightly outside of time, sounding organic and a little jazzy, but without chasing the ghosts of neo-soul or that “golden age” mid-90s Queens sound.
Most of his production is handled by Ski Beatz, a New York veteran known primarily for his work in the late 90s with Camp Lo and Jay-Z. Ski’s work with Curren$y is miles ahead of the stuff he was doing back in ’97; the blend between traditional hip hop production and live instrumentation has achieved an amazing maturity, ranking with the work of The Roots, Outkast, and Q-Tip. While Pilot Talk II doesn’t stray far from the blueprint of its predecessor, Curren$y and Ski have the good fortune of sounding fresh without having to reinvent the wheel. Besides, when you release music this often, you’re either going to find a consistency that builds momentum or you’re going to run your formula into the ground.
Next to Madlib, Spitta may be the world’s most productive stoner. Here’s to a prolific 2011.
KNIGHT RIDER. GOLD MEDAL FOR LAZIEST RAP CHORUS OF THE YEAR.
THIS BEAT IS BEAUTIFUL
SKI, CIRCA 1997
19. Fabolous – There is No Competition 2 (The Funeral Service) December 14, 2010
Posted by theidentitythief in favorite 25 albums of 2010.Tags: all black, big l, body bag, body ya, burying the roof, clipse, dj drama, fabolous, freck, funeral service, hard, i'm raw, roger that, the wake, there is no competition
add a comment
I: INTERPRETIVE FRAMEWORK
Rap is unusual among art forms because of the way it points beyond itself. Rappers that have exemplified the genre have never been content to let the definition of their work rest within its form alone. It’s not just beats and rhymes, and it never has been. Rap’s “beyond itself” refers not only to the fact that MCing and DJing used to exist alongside other equally important elements of hip hop – graffiti art, dancing, and fashion – but also to the cultural and economic goals which rap seeks to define and achieve. With rap music, there is no discontinuity between success itself, the means through which success is achieved, and the ultimate meaning of success. None of those aspects can stand on its own without the unifying force of personality; hip hop is humanistic; it assumes the centrality of man.
What makes a rap album significant is, again, not primarily the quality of the beats and the rhymes, but the manner in which the rapper’s goals are defined, justified, and personified. In the case of Fabolous and his latest mixtape, his goals are economic (i.e., weighted toward the kind of possession that includes few and excludes many), his justifications are literary (Fab distinguishes himself by an inventive use of carefully weighted figurative speech), and the personifications are abstract (he links his self to ideas with readymade connotations, not to realistic or ambiguous details that require interpretation). The economic goal, as opposed to the inclusive cultural goal which seeks the prosperity and enlightenment of the entire community, is essentially exclusive. When someone has money, it means others don’t. When someone is famous, it means others aren’t. When someone receives special treatment, the burden of providing special treatment falls on all those who aren’t special.
The imagery central to There is No Competition 2 is the imagery of death; its constant presence on the album is a vivid illustration of the economic goal’s inherent exclusivity. Although the death imagery is unvaryingly grave and frequently violent, Fab’s delivery is neither; he raps with a self-assured smoothness that separates the weighty implications of his message from the natural appeal of his persona. The discontinuity between what he says and how he says it softens the devastating impact of his ideas, so it’s easier for listeners to read it as art instead of the mania of a mass murderer.
II: EXAMPLES
The concept is simple enough: there is no competition, because Fabolous killed them all. You hear it on the mixtape in a hundred different permutations, and it’s a good concept not because it’s original, but because it’s especially appropriate to the art form. And besides, it’s pregnant with possibility.
“Roger That” exploits some of the more obvious angles; rapper Freck Billionaire gives a voiceover describing a rapper massacre as if he is a news reporter covering a national disaster (“there’s nothing but dead rappers everywhere…fake chains all over the ground, everywhere…”), and Fabolous distances himself from possible rivalries with lines such as these:
“What’s beef? That question is mistakable
I mean, I have had a well done steak or two,
But as far as rap niggas go, we slaughter cows;
Apron on, tape a song, flow slaughterhouse.”
Some of the death metaphors organize entire songs: tracks with titles like “The Wake” and “Body Bag”; others occur suddenly, being occasioned by a chance rhyme (“holla at your homie, holla at your dog / looking for the competition, holla at the morgue”) or irresistible puns (“I bring death to ‘em, no hearing loss”). Some are meant to sublimate the art of rap into the mixtape’s conceit at large (“I don’t write rhymes; I write obituaries”), and others scatter the imagery for the sake of cumulative effect (“picture the top on a 6 series going ‘poof’ / it goes underneath, call it burying the roof”). Fabolous comes at the same idea from so many angles that you admire him for his inventiveness instead of his cruelty, for the fact that during some stretches of particularly inspired rhyming, he really does seem to have a monopoly on vitality. For example, a few lines from “Hard”:
“Time to send them flowers and cards, with our regards
A special rest in peace goes to all you cowards and frauds
Like water in the freezer: that’s how I go hard
Fly in your bitch’s legs, twin tower your broad”
I haven’t heard this sort of literary conceptual dedication since Lord Willin’ and Hell Hath No Fury, the second and third Clipse LPs, those inexhaustible wells of coke-dealer anthems. And it isn’t since Big L’s “All Black” that figurative language has been so thoroughly and straightforwardly morbid. Not that this is anywhere near as dark or harrowing as rap music gets, but this represents a high point in the literary expression of rap’s ideals of exclusivity. It’s deadly in implication without being particularly violent, sort of like when the Bolsheviks took over Russia without killing anybody.
THIS SONG IS RAW. THIS VIDEO FEATURES SOME RAW MEAT AND ALSO SOME RAW RAPPING.
THIS IS A VIDEO THAT SHOWS FABOLOUS KILLING EVERYBODY
THIS IS THE CLASSIC BIG L SONG I WAS TALKING ABOUT. SPEAKING OF GETTING KILLED, THAT IS WHAT HAPPENED TO BIG L.
20. Deerhunter – Halcyon Digest December 11, 2010
Posted by theidentitythief in favorite 25 albums of 2010.Tags: basement scene, bradford cox, cryptograms, deerhunter, desire lines, earthquake, halcyon digest, helicopter, microcastle, saved by old times, spring hall convert
add a comment
Bradford Cox has never been afraid to make his songs so personal that they become inaccessible. Back in 2005, “Spring Hall Convert” didn’t make sense until Cox explained it on his blog: something about an acid trip, chronic illness, and two of his friends from high school bathing in golden light. Microcastle’s “Saved by Old Times,” was apparently written about a haunted house in Georgia. And Halcyon Digest‘s “Helicopter” involves the story of a young man from Russia who was sold into sex slavery. Deerhunter makes music that demands context, not as if context would magically render the songs intelligible; the demand implies an unusually strong link between art and the substance of lived experience.
The band’s songs draw from the experiences and memories that constitute life, but something always dies in the creative process. I don’t mean their expressions fail in effect, but the soul of each song always feels like a reflection of something else, as if experience and memory have been mediated through the music instead of being captured by it. Deerhunter operate in the realm of subjectivity, not realism; as a result, their evolution as a band has been primarily aesthetic. Moving from the sublimated violence of Cryptograms to the less muscular ambience of Weird Era Cont., their sound has turned radically inward over the years, even though Cox’s lyric writing style has grown only slightly less obscure. Early records provided emotional exit paths through their hypnotic use of noise and repetition, but 2009′s Rainwater Cassette Exchange stepped away from this style by avoiding sonic obscurity. Cox and company have shifted from noisy ambience toward an atmospheres that resemble constellations of stars, an approach that mirrors the careful impressionism that has always characterized their lyrics.
With Halcyon Digest, Deerhunter’s sonic aesthetics are finally as introverted, reflective, and reserved as their lyrics. They’ve developed the tendency to regard death with quiet awe; their violent streak continues to subside; they’re growing up. Digest achieves an aesthetic balance that finally does justice to the vertigo-inducing emotional depth of its subject material. So when the album draws to a close without any of the usual distored pyrotechnics, without drowning the listener in walls of sound, it’s not because the band has sanded off their former edge (which is what I thought the first time I heard the album), but because the connection between the life behind their music and the music itself is stronger than it’s ever been.
LISTEN TO SOME SONGS
THE ALBUM OPENER
A PRETTY SONG
A LONG SONG, WHICH MIGHT MAKE THE SECOND HALF OF MY SECOND PARAGRAPH SOUND STUPID
21. Baths – Cerulean December 6, 2010
Posted by theidentitythief in favorite 25 albums of 2010.Tags: ableton, akai, baths, cerulean, mpd32, will wiesenfeld
add a comment
This is the first album on my list that I’ve already written about before. It was a tidy four-paragraph review that praised Baths for engaging with current trends in atmospheric beat-based music without succumbing to forces of commodification. There aren’t too many musicians that can claim competence on this many fronts at once; besides his talent for songwriting and his versatility as a multi-instrumentalist, Baths (aka Will Wiesenfeld) is a wizard with his Akai MPD32 Ableton controller. He’s not only playing all the instruments on his songs and manipulating them nearly past recognition with software and dense arrangements, but he’s shaping the whole into something that hasn’t lost its playful spirit, something that frames his voice instead of overcoming it.
With producers whose innovations are based on newer pieces of software (i.e., Ableton Live), technique sometimes crushes content. Or with other producers who embrace current trends (i.e., LA’s surfeit of over-compressed, under-quantized beat music), their stylistic competence can quench their music’s sense of spirit. We live in the world of Pandora, where music’s genetic traits serve as substitutes for its identity. Music’s function as a lifestyle accessory or as a way of selling new cell phones can overwhelm a possibility that’s easy to forget: that art can touch our lives in a deeper and more direct way that our technology can. Cerulean isn’t a flawless example of what an album should be, but it’s an album where current technology and current trends play vital roles in the final product without defining it.
FOR EXTRA CREDIT
BATHS EXPLAINS HIS MYSTERIOUS BEAT MACHINE
BATHS PLAYS A SONG ON HIS MYSTERIOUS BEAT MACHINE
