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Current Music Review: Tortoise / Beacons of Ancestorship / 2009
Review by Jordan Cronk: If any band was in dire need of a swift kick in the pants, it would have to be Tortoise. I mean, following 2004's numbingly innocuous It’s All Around You, you’d have been forgiven for assuming that the band were now just quietly riding off into the sunset, their legacy as post-rock progenitors secure and obligation to prove anything long since past. In the interim they had even released the requisite rarities box set (A Lazarus Taxon, which is essential I might add), all but signaling the end of what was one of the most groundbreaking musical acts of the 90s. Their slow recession from the spotlight coincided with the agonizing death of post-rock itself, which is rather fitting considering Tortoise arguably embodied the outlying signifiers of the genre better than anyone else. This is all to say that for all intents and purposes it felt like Tortoise had run their course, which is what makes their new record, Beacons of Ancestorship, such an unexpectedly bracing return for the group. I hesitate to call it a comeback, since they never technically broke-up, but it is most certainly a return-to-form, and even more surprising, it’s a form that the band has never fully assimilated in the past.
In other words, Beacons of Ancestorship rocks, and it actually rocks pretty hard at times. From that perspective, it also kind of rules, in as much as a late-period Tortoise record can rule (or rock) that is. This shift in approach is instantly noticeable: Eight minute opener “High Class Slim Came Floatin’ In” rides a circular keyboard line around stabbing bits of distorted synth and muscular percussion, and the resulting melody is inviting and memorable enough to throw the listener back in their seat, particularly if one was expecting more cocktail lounge jazz from a veteran instrumental band. The following track, “Prepare Your Coffin,” manages to consolidate the more sprawling and methodical power of ‘Slim’ into one self-contained 3-minute blast, and it already has people referring to it as Tortoise’s metal moment. That’s probably pushing it, but that riff is undeniable and those fills dizzying enough to add “math-" to the band’s laundry list of “-rock” qualifiers. If this is an apology for their recent retreat into easy-listening territory, then Tortoise, consider yourselves forgiven.
This being Tortoise though, Beacons of Ancestorship doesn’t always stay in aggressive mode, and even the chiller moments here feel more invigorated and purposeful than a great deal of their recent work, as if every note has been carefully worked out and utilized for maximum impact instead as ends unto themselves. Album highlight “Gigantes” proves that Tortoise are still adept at blurring the line between guitar and synth, while “Penumbra” sounds like a glitched-out 80s sitcom theme which purposefully bridges the gap between the former and its follow-up “Yinxianghechengqi,” whose clipped bass frequencies are startlingly bold, even for a record more consciously militant in approach. The ominous “Fall of Seven Diamonds Plus One” ushers in the album’s more sedate second half, and although Tortoise can’t keep up the momentum established by the opening blitzkrieg, this isn’t really a deal breaker. “Monument Six One Thousand” and particularly closer “Charteroak Foundation” are beautiful enough on their own to support this slight lag.
Most importantly, Beacons of Ancestorship is focused and potent enough to reassure us of Tortoise’s collective powers. As always, John McEntire’s production is immaculate, and his skill behind the boards adds a level of precision to even the album’s most combative moments. Plus, the record barely eclipses the 40-minute mark, hardly enough time to grow bored after the album’s first half gives way to more peaceful waters. The days of Tortoise making huge statements like they did with the 21-minute “Djed” or the consistently thrilling TNT have probably past, but if the band continues to surprise the way they have here, the results will never be less than interesting. Beacons of Ancestorship is a confident step in that direction, and proof that this group of scene veterans still have the ability to impress through their restlessly creative, if sadly infrequent, output. (★★½)
LAST WORD: The first album in five years from Chicago post-rock institution Tortoise finds the band reinvigorated, turning in their most potent collection of songs in years.
Current Music Review: Dinosaur Jr. / Farm / 2009
Review by Jordan Cronk: Excepting perhaps The Fall, I’m not sure if there’s ever been another band that’s gotten as much mileage out of basically re-writing the same tunes over and over again as Boston alt-rock legends Dinosaur Jr. (and in both instances, I say that in the most respectful way possible). Dinosaur didn’t exactly arrive fully formed of course, but by the time of their landmark sophomore record, You’re Living All Over Me, the band’s classic sound was in place, never to be tampered with again. Even when the band imploded and the Dinosaur Jr. brand became more of solo vehicle for front man J. Mascis, that core sound persevered, unfettered by the ever-mounting trends of the ensuing decade. In fact, a great deal of grunge and shoegaze acts lifted directly from this basic Dinosaur aesthetic only to repackage it and call it their own. Still, there's something intangibly inspired about Dinosaur Jr. when the three original members appear on record together, and when the classic line-up of Mascis, Lou Barlow and Murph (can’t forget Murph) reformed for 2006's wonderful Beyond, it unsurprisingly felt like a seamless continuation of where the band left off in 1988 with Bug, and in the process exposed the band’s epic classic rock leanings to a whole new generation of music fans.
As is the case with nearly any act still going strong after two decades of indie prominence, it’s become almost way too easy to take this kind of stuff for granted, especially as up-start blog-powered bands seep into the indie consciousness on an almost daily basis. So there is a certain comfort then in knowing exactly what you’re going to get with each successive Dinosaur Jr. record, regardless of context. Almost on cue, and just as my mind can’t handle one more Afro-pop pillaging indie-pop act, Dinosaur Jr. return yet again with Farm, the band’s second post-reunion album, and one that once again doesn’t break any sort of new ground for them (or anybody else), but in its own way is still a rather mighty document of a band confident in their chosen path as veterans of a dying breed on pure indie-rock. Sure, Farm may just be another document in the growing Dinosaur discography (their name becomes more and more prescient with every passing day, which I’m sure they embrace wholeheartedly), but at the same time it's sure to please long-time fans and newcomers alike.
As has been the case with just about every Dinosaur Jr. record that came before it, Farm leads with its best foot forward: “Pieces” tears in unabated with Mascis’ signature guitar pyrotechnics and endearingly nasal vox, ably setting the table for 11 more tracks of basically the same thing. Though, on the whole, Farm finds the band stretching out a bit more than they have in the past, with a handful of tracks crossing the 7-minute barrier. As a result, Farm is paradoxically long on breadth and short on ambition, and while this can grow tiring as the album trudges toward the one-hour mark, a whole lot of it is still invigorating in small, self-contained doses. A steady intake of Dinosaur Jr. should be in every serious music fan's diet, and Farm certainly provides plenty of nourishment for those who have exhausted their copies of Beyond.
Farm leaves me in odd position as a critic then, as it doesn’t really cover a whole lot of stylistic ground, while individual songs can feel interchangeable with most anything off their last album (you’ll notice I haven’t really gone into any specifics on individual tracks). It’s all still rather good though, and even when tracks seem to exist only to show off Mascis’ unparalleled ability to wank-out while keeping a straight face, Farm scratches a particular itch so well that it's hard to complain about the results. They certainly don’t have the dynamic range they once did—Farm is all rawk all the time, and even the ballads can fry your synapses—but no one does it quite like them, and for that I'm grateful (although I'm even more grateful for that brilliant cover art). The two requisite Barlow penned tracks are solid too, and if nothing else they genuinely pique my interest for the inevitable Sebadoh reunion album. As I’ve stated before, there's a certain rush that only Dinosaur Jr. can provide, and this lazily anthemic niche that’s been so conducive for Mascis for over two decades now will simply never go out of style. Dinosaur Jr., whoever you are, we love thee. (★★½)
LAST WORD: The second post-reunion album from the original Dinosaur Jr. line-up is a sprawling extension of their last record, and guess what, it sounds exactly how you’d imagine. What did you expect, keyboards?
Current Music Review: Dirty Projectors / Bitte Orca / 2009
Review by Sam C. Mac: No release this year better represents a realization of potential than the new album from off-kilter indie collective Dirty Projectors. That Animal Collective record we all know and love could be seen as a similar document in this regard, but whereas the triumph of Merriweather Post Pavilion is that of a band in peak form, exercising their long-established skill, the level of success Dirty Projectors attain on Bitte Orca is of a kind they've never reached before. As chronicled in a series of eccentric albums, the odd EP and one truly confounding reproduction of Black Flag's punk landmark Damaged from memory (2007's Rise Above), lead Projector David Longstreth has proven himself a restless prodigy, delivering inconsistently brilliant collections with just as inconsistent a line-up of musicians under the Dirty Projectors moniker.
It's always been apparent that his band, no matter what the incarnation, are a formidable indie-rock act, but the material they've churned out in that past – wildly eclectic and often maddening compositions coupled with Longstreth's otherworldly falsetto – have made for a musical output much easier to admire than love. Shards of Longstreth's more crystalline art-pop tend to find themselves sandwiched between lesser experiments. Take, for example, the meandering crashings of "Room 13" and the half-hearted sketch of "Untitled" surrounding perhaps the band's best track, "Rise Above," on the album of the same name. Or the David Byrne-aided "Knotty Pine" nearly drowned out by the mediocrity pervading the Dark Was the Night compilation it's a part of. Not so with Bitte Orca though, a collection of nine songs, each just about as good as anything the band's ever done.
This isn't just a great album, it's some kind of lightning-in-a-bottle miracle; Longstreth has managed to channel his tendency toward going-nowhere diversions into one song: "The Bride," the only weakness in this whole set which, in reality, is about as compelling as all the other doodles Longstreth has given us (which is to say it's no disaster). Complaints about this album end there, as no other major missteps occur in the 41 minute length between the electric guitar chime of opener "Cannibal Resource" and the fading synths which close percussive stunner "Fluorescent Half-Dome." That's not to say Longstreth and company have abandoned their more artistic impulses for catchy, streamlined pop; it's just that the more jarring moments on Bitte Orca always feel cohesive and never threaten the progression of the songs.
Consider the R&B-influenced "Stillness is the Move," which wouldn't be half as compelling and daring without the clipped guitar chords that give it an Afro-pop flavor (surely one of Longstreth's favorite musical stylings). It's one of two songs which make up the middle section of Bitte Orca, both sung by Dirty Projectors' dual female members. Sighing siren #1, Angel Deradoorian, takes the mic for 'Stillness,' tapping into the same poppy vocal runs that make the best of Mariah Carey and Beyonce's output so winning. The track chimes nervously and clangs loudly until the appropriately angelic bridge hits: Angel's layered vocal is given front-and-center treatment backed only by a subtle bass pulse; each of the other elements of the track reenter the mix one by one, plus a swelling string section well-complementing Angel's high-pitched tenure, and the whole thing ascends into the heavens – and to the top of the list of 2009's best singles. Amber Coffman, her voice of an earthier and huskier quality than Angel's, croons over the other feminine track of the set, "Two Doves," her voice gliding atop quivering orchestrations and Longstreth's intricately composed acoustic picking. "Kiss me with your mouth open," Amber insists, and at first the song seems like a love ballad, until Amber starts dropping words like "killer," and the real shocker: "Our bed is like a failure." The song ends with Amber pleading "call on me," her voice cracked and broken and her plea unanswered. It's the album's most devastating emotional blow, and not without competition.
Longstreth-led pieces are just as impressive, if not more so. Like his talents as a composer, his skills as a guitar virtuoso need not be proven further, but Longstreth doesn't seem to be listening; he cooks up more than a few devilishly catchy and technically mind-boggling rhythms here, on "Temecula Sunrise" and on the album's most dazzling stand-alone piece, "Useful Chamber." Six and a half minutes of tempo shifts, surprise bridges, a fashionably late chorus and Yes levels of prog-rock cacophony make up "Useful Chamber," which has to be seen as the most successful meshing of Longstreth's restless desire to experiment and, um, listenability. The revelatory moments come fast and furious, but how about the sudden assault of layered electric guitars or the yelping of the album's title – didn't see either coming.
It's almost unfair to point out this stuff, since a great deal of this album's allure is in discovering the unexpected directions it takes. This quality firmly aligns Bitte Orca with another of this decade's defining art-rock statements, 2004's mammoth Fiery Furnaces album Blueberry Boat. Both pride themselves on unpredictability, and making the listener an active participant with the music rather than a passive one. In this sense, the comparatively predictable progression of the album's last three tracks ("No Intention," "Remade Horizon" and "Fluorescent Half-Dome") could be seen as a flaw. But "No Intention," a decidedly more relaxed Longstreth tune, also ranks as one of the artist's more soulful vocal performances, his "Two Doves" moment of emotional rawness. And check that whacky bridge; dueling guitars fight for supremacy, complemented by Amber and Angel's alternating "woos" and "oos." It's followed by "Remade Horizon," probably the album's most cryptic moment lyrically, but no less inventive and engaging musically, further elevated by the playful vocal interplay between all three principles. And finally, "Fluorescent Half-Dome," the most spare track here and an appropriately subdued closer which relies heavily on propulsive, meticulous percussion, a recurring theme of this album exemplified more here than at any other time on Bitte Orca.
In performance, the giraffe-necked Longstreth is a twitchy mess of tics, refusing to sit still; in interviews, he's even worse. In the studio, we can only imagine. It remains to be seen if Longstreth has actually gotten his shit together or if this is indeed a fleeting moment of brilliance to be followed by the same uneven work we've come to expect from the artist. But really, it doesn't matter; we'll always have Bitte Orca, Dave, and for that I'm sure we can tolerate whatever bonkers thing you choose to do next – The Beatles' White Album played backwards, perhaps? (★★★½)
LAST WORD: Dirty Projectors' David Longstreth here blends, with jaw-dropping precision, his widely regarded skills as a challenging virtuoso and his oft less prevalent tendency toward accessible, aggressively catchy pop melodies – it's earth shaking stuff, and one of '09's best.
Current Music Review: Sonic Youth / The Eternal / 2009
Review by Jordan Cronk: The cover of 1987's Sister billed the band as The Sonic Youth, perhaps a self-consciously cheeky nod to the brave few steadfastly trudging through the American underground rock scene of the era or maybe of no overriding significance at all (probably the latter, but stay with me). In my mind that “The” has been implied ever since, as there never has and never will be another Sonic Youth. If you’ve hung around me for a considerable period of time, you’ve probably heard me refer to Sonic Youth as the greatest American rock band ever, and I’ve honestly never heard a compelling enough argument to convince me otherwise. My (admittedly warped) view of music history basically pivots on the arrival of their self-titled 1982 EP, a time when the downtown NYC art scene collided head-on with the burgeoning DIY art-rock movement, effectively spawning what has arguably become America’s only consistently engaging, artistically intelligent and musically omnivorous rock band still going strong over 25 years later (or, post-Vampire Weekend). Hell, they’ve been massaging the history since day one, and with each new release comes (at the very least) the comfort of yet another accomplished and artistically airtight document of a band in the continual process of maturation. So it’s now 2009 and here we have the knowingly titled The Eternal, Sonic Youth’s 16th studio album and first on an independent label in over 20 years, and while it’s exactly what you’ve come to expect, it still manages to kick all kinds of ass in the process.
Signing to Matador hasn’t exactly trigger a change in the band’s overall approach – these guys had been doing whatever the hell they wanted on a major label’s dime for almost two decades – but it does sound like the band is a little looser and more comfortable this time out in the environs of something more closely resembling a community. By comparison, 2006's streamlined Rather Ripped, while quite effective and very popular for a late period SY album, still felt to me like their least significant statement since Experimental Jet Set (1994). I’m thankful then for the more prescient and weighty subject matter explored on The Eternal, despite the fact only a few tracks here really add much to the overall Sonic Youth conversation. Opener “Sacred Trickster” at first sounds like a logical extension of the punked-up energy of Rather Ripped, but its conviction more accurately aligns it with Kim Gordon’s passion-fueled rants circa Dirty (1992). “Sacred Trickster” is put in stark contrast almost immediately by the following track, “Anti-Orgasm,” a lengthier and more wandering piece than what they’ve gone in for lately, though still probably the band’s most blatant political statement since “Peace Attack.” Its sequencing in the two-hole may be questionable in regards to momentum, but the dentist-drill guitar stabs that punctuate Gordon’s sexual vocal thrusts feel more alive and potent than a great deal of Rather Ripped.
While still a fairly straightforward rock record by Sonic Youth standards, The Eternal does see the band re-embracing a bit of the sprawl that was reigned in on Rather Ripped. Sonic Youth junkies have been clamoring for more of this since 2001's return-to-prominence Murray Street, but here, ironically, the drawn-out numbers are probably the least effective moments on the album. Instead, it’s the immediacy of tracks such as “Calming the Snake,” “Thunderclap for Bobby Pryn” and most especially Lee Ranaldo’s “What We Know” that leave the strongest impression, while drifting pieces like “Antenna” and “Malibu Gas Station” tend to grow tedious well before conclusion. These prolonged tracks tend to work better within the flow of the album though, and these meandering moments actually belie the fact that 10 minute closer “Massage the History” is one of the band’s most effective long-form pieces in a while. As always, there is an unspoken earnestness in every de-tuned note, and while a few of these tracks are par for the SY course, nothing here comes close falling below the band’s staunch standards.
In addition to all this, the actual sound and recording of The Eternal feels more substantial than a lot of their work, due in no small part to the full-time membership of Pavement’s Mark Ibold on bass, who has been touring with the band ever since their last record. Now as an official member, Ibold frees up Gordon to complete the triple guitar attack of the Sonic Youth of yore, and the fuller and more robust sonics of The Eternal therefore make it feel a whole lot more durable than some of the more fleeting pleasures of Rather Ripped. The record’s other distinguishing feature is the democratic use of vocal duties, wherein up to all three songwriters may make an appearance on a single track. Of course, the lead vocal of each song still out each piece as a specific entry in each songwriters' oeuvre, but the back-up and counterpoint vocal accompaniment add a dimension to the group that had surprisingly never been fully explored up until now. As a result, a handful of songs (“Leaky Lifeboat” and “Poison Arrow” most emphatically) actually sound birthed from more of a full-band group-think than their more typical, solo-originated pieces.
These subtle differences certainly work in The Eternal’s favor, and while I can’t imagine this being anyone’s favorite Sonic Youth record, it is nevertheless a worthy addition to one of the world’s most resolute discographies. Anyone expecting a game-changer at this point will have misplaced their expectations, but those wise enough to keep their anxieties in check should have no problem enjoying most of this record. Though there are certainly better places to start, I’d say this even goes for new fans looking to dive into some outwardly perilous waters. Despite the label change and the less than immediate additions here, it seems unlikely Sonic Youth will ever be another position to really radicalize rock music. 2002's Murray Street then should go down as their last landmark accomplishment, though with rewards still being spread fruitfully throughout each successive record, there is no reason to stop following their every move. The band itself would never stoop to pandering or blatant pleasure-stroking, and for that reason alone The Sonic Youth will never die. (★★½)
LAST WORD: Sonic Youth’s 16th album, and first for an independent label in over two decades, is one of the band’s most thematically and sonically substantial releases of the last ten years.
Current Music Review: The Field / Yesterday and Today / 2009
Review by Jordan Cronk: By independent standards and as far as ambient techno goes, Alex Willner’s 2007 debut album as The Field, From Here We Go Sublime, was something of a crossover smash. Here was a record that appealed not only to high-minded techno fetishists, but also to a great deal of casual indie-rock fans who wouldn’t normally go in for something quite so synthetic, trance-like or static in construction. In a sense, Willner simply took the aesthetic that Wolfgang Voigt pioneered with his Gas project in the late 90s – insistent bass pulse, countless layers of ambient guitar texture, and a minimalist’s approach to structure – and repurposed it for a new generation of electronic fans looking for something more subtle and soothing than the then-burgeoning blog-house scene. Yet despite (or maybe because of) it’s debt to its forbearer, it worked like a charm, becoming one of 2007's most acclaimed records and one of the biggest sellers in Voigt’s indelible Kompakt catalogue.
Following up a record of Sublime’s magnitude is not something any artist would envy, yet here we are just two years later with a new Field album, and one that is surprisingly bolder and more adventurous than his debut, if not slightly less focused in execution. In other words, it’s a classic transitional album, but as far as these things go, Yesterday and Today is pretty fascinating. And just as Willner’s debut hinted at its ambition through its title, so too does Yesterday and Today chart its direction in helpfully unpretentious fashion. To wit, the six tracks that make up this album are consciously and equally split down the middle between growth experiments and more comfortable refinements of past triumphs. Overall then, Yesterday and Today sounds more like a reconciliation of where Willner’s been and where he’s (hopefully) going than it does an overt change in direction.
Ironically, this ambition turns out to be Yesterday and Today’s defining characteristic as well as its most tiring attribute. As you may have guessed by now, these are some loooong songs, with the album’s six tracks stretching out over an hour in length. People seem to forget that Sublime featured its fair share of lengthy ordeals as well, particularly in its last half, but as is the case with album’s such as these, the highs can easily offset the lows when the artist in question exercises some modicum of concision. This is something Willner hasn’t quite come to grips with yet in my view, and unfortunately it’s accentuated over the course of Yesterday and Today. It's true, minimal techno as a genre has never been characterized by its restraint – in fact, many times its whole demeanor can be defined by how well an artist can force the listener into a trance-like state of submission – but, even still, tracks such as “Leave It” and “Sequenced” reveal their relative charms early on, and more often than not spend the remainder of their 10+ minutes spinning their proverbial wheels, in essence stunting the growth that Willner so playfully applies elsewhere on the album.
Better then these then is opener “I Have the Moon, You Have the Internet” (Song Title of the Year candidate right there folks), which slowly builds with hypnotic synth and carefully placed piano chords to arrive at a sort-of anti-climax, which “Everybody’s Got to Learn Sometime” ably attempts to provide. I can’t say that it completely succeeds, but this cover of the 1980 Korgis original does feature the first appearance of a full vocal line on a Field album, certainly helping it to standout amongst some of the more lengthy tracks here. I’m not sure then if it’s a good or bad sign that the single best track here is the one most closely linked to its predecessor. The swelling, hypnotic penultimate track “The More That I Do” is certainly the late-album highlight here, and it would have feasibly been one of the better tracks on Sublime had it been featured there. This is certainly Willner’s wheelhouse, as clipped, minimal vocal samples repeat in a rapturous haze of ambient textures and propulsive bass pulsations. An entire album of similar retreads would have been damaging to Willner’s development however, but here, “The More That I Do” manages to feel like the perfect end-result of his distinctly narcotized techno.
On the opposite end of the spectrum is the title track, which begins as a rather traditional tech-house piece, only to vamp-out in its final third with live drums courtesy of John Stanier, deity-like percussionist of math-rock megaliths Battles. Unsurprisingly, “Yesterday and Today" comes across as more Lindstrøm than Gas, and as a result it’s easily the most successful of the album’s lengthier, more progressive numbers. More of this build-and-reveal would have helped Yesterday and Today as whole, and while there are no outright bad tracks here, there is also nothing quite as transcendent as the best moments on Sublime. There is more than enough here to wet the appetite of anxious Field fans however, and whether we like to admit it or not, sometimes the most fruitful advances in music are arrived at through patience and dedication, two things that Yesterday and Today rewards in spades. (★★½)
LAST WORD: Yesterday and Today, the sophomore album from Swedish ambient techno artist The Field, experiments with some bold new techniques as often as it plays it close to the vest.
Review by Jordan Cronk: If any band was in dire need of a swift kick in the pants, it would have to be Tortoise. I mean, following 2004's numbingly innocuous It’s All Around You, you’d have been forgiven for assuming that the band were now just quietly riding off into the sunset, their legacy as post-rock progenitors secure and obligation to prove anything long since past. In the interim they had even released the requisite rarities box set (A Lazarus Taxon, which is essential I might add), all but signaling the end of what was one of the most groundbreaking musical acts of the 90s. Their slow recession from the spotlight coincided with the agonizing death of post-rock itself, which is rather fitting considering Tortoise arguably embodied the outlying signifiers of the genre better than anyone else. This is all to say that for all intents and purposes it felt like Tortoise had run their course, which is what makes their new record, Beacons of Ancestorship, such an unexpectedly bracing return for the group. I hesitate to call it a comeback, since they never technically broke-up, but it is most certainly a return-to-form, and even more surprising, it’s a form that the band has never fully assimilated in the past.
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