R.E.M. - Murmur: The Most Beautiful Album of the Eighties

 I wasn't alive in the eighties, but I was there.  There are only a few beautifully crafted gems that can take us to places and times that we've never actually existed in, and this album is absolutely on that list.  Murmur marked not only a wonderful testament to human achievement and possibility, but also a stunningly timeless yet new and sparkling feeling.  This album, full of jangly guitars and poppy, melodic bass riffs combined with entirely original drumming and Michael Stipe's haunting, cryptic lyrics, proves itself as a masterpiece by the third track.

There is a notion of triumph throughout this whole album, as if the band members knew exactly what they were on to before they even recorded it.  Everything is so fresh and new, yet so classic and easily grasped.  It is truly very difficult to put into words the feeling that this album can invoke.  The songs sprawl and intertwine together, and every single one of them comes to a strong and untouchable crest.  There is a mature and accomplished feeling to the songs, while at the same time a child-like playfulness creeps along and hides just under the surface.  Opposites attract beautifully on this album.

Stipe's lyrics are romantic as can be, just as his voice is.  Still very young, he rasps out many of his vocals in a demanding and vicious, yet desperately important tone.  The track "Laughing" breathes with these notions.  He repeats the word "Lighted" throughout the song, while leaving it up to the listener to decide if he is indeed saying "delighted" in some instances.  This mystery is of a good nature, however.  This song especially can leave the listener with nothing but a feeling of romantic joy.

This album also basically pioneered the alternative college genre.  From the new bass techniques (especially the way the lines melodically carry the whole album) employed by Mike Mills, to Bill Berry's swift, young and restless drumming, to Peter Buck's absolutely genius jangly, gorgeous guitar, and to Michael Stipe's timeless yet mystical lyrics, everything about this album is perfect.  Let's not forget that Mills, Berry and Buck all played piano on this album, which is a wholesome addition to many of the tracks.

This album truly emphasizes newness and love.  It is a standard in alternative rock.  I do not have enough good things to say about it.  While R.E.M. have made other perfect albums in my opinion, none of them come close to the impact and originality of this one.  Do not pass this by.  It should be in every music enthusiasts collection.

Notable tracks (though all of them are brilliant) - Laughing, Talk About The Passion, Perfect Circle, Sitting Still, Shaking Through.

This one is essential - 5/5

New Innovators

Columbus, OH experimental rockers Psychedelic Horseshit have undoubtedly made a colossal mark on the modern American underground scene with their stunning new record, Laced. Like Black Dice (and, to go even further, Sonic Youth), Psychedelic Horseshit explore the possibilities of repetition within noise, but with a tremendous sense of playful wonder and calypso-like rhythms. In the tradition of Beck (no doubt a huge influence), they fashion an amalgam of different styles (namely acoustic folk, electronic, noise, shoegaze, psychedelic, and ambient) to create a wonderfully potent, original sound that simultaneously sounds accessible and detached. They can expertly create, and subsequently abandon, sonic textures of sound, thwarting the listener’s expectations by taking rhythms and melodies to an entirely different territory from where they originated. And frontman Matt Whitehurst spews out deadpan lyrics (“I don’t need to prove that I am always thinking / I’d rather be quite stupid in my tropical vision”) with a stoner, Lou Reed-like delivery. But what makes this record truly great is not the endlessly fascinating sound, nor is it the quality of the musicianship; it’s the surprising versatility of the songwriting. Psychedelic Horseshit are wholly capable of swirling, Eno-esque ambient drone (“Automatic Writing”), shoegaze (“Revolution Wavers”), and dense noise freak-outs (“I Hate the Beach”, “Laced”) just as well as they are of romantic dreaminess (“Dead On Arrival”), shimmering pop melodies (“Time of Day”), and even folk ditties (“Another Side”). A truly compelling record that demands numerous listens. Check this one out.

Download Laced here.

Rating: 3.5 out of 4

A Must-See for Doors Fans

I first became aware of When You’re Strange: A Film About the Doors (2010) from an article in Rolling Stone at some point last year when it was first released, and I was instantly intrigued by the idea of a documentary about the seminal rock group. For most, Oliver Stone’s The Doors (1991) was a complete disappointment. Instead of sticking to the truth, Stone chose to alter certain events in the band’s history, particularly regarding Jim Morrison’s behavior, to achieve a more dramatic, entertaining effect (and Stone seems to have a knack for doing this in his other fact-based films as well). Unsurprisingly, he was heavily criticized for this. And the remaining members of the band, particularly Ray Manzarek, were unhappy with the results. In Stone’s defense, it would be a difficult task to pull off a successful Doors biopic without stretching the truth to an extent. And I don’t want to dismiss his film completely; The Doors garners solid entertainment and is worth watching if just for Val Kilmer’s brilliant portrayal of Morrison.

Thus, we now have When You’re Strange, which almost seems to deliberately expose some of the exaggerations in The Doors and show what actually happened. Narrated by a very enthusiastic Johnny Depp, When You’re Strange, like The Doors, focuses on the charismatic Morrison. Kicking off with an impeccably crafted backward sequence of film clips and photographs that shows the band’s discography in order from their last album to their first, When You’re Strange follows the basic story of the band’s journey, which hardcore fans are already familiar with. But the story is not what makes it interesting; what does make it interesting is the abundance of never-before-seen footage of not only live performances, but of the band hanging out backstage, in the studio, on the touring plane, and more. The standout would have to be a 1969 short film that Morrison himself directed and acted in, which is shown in segments throughout the film. Added to all this, the fact that there are no interviews whatsoever makes it even more enthralling. The only guiding force of the story is Depp’s narration and director Tom DiCillo’s clever use of footage and photographs to correspond with what Depp is talking about. (Also, the DVD’s special features include an exclusive, heartbreaking interview with Morrison’s father and sister in one of the only occasions his family members have publicly spoken about him.)


And of course, Morrison never ceases to be a source of absolute delight. “I’ve noticed that when people are joking, they’re usually dead serious, and when they’re dead serious, it’s usually pretty funny,” we hear him mutter in one sequence (which immediately became a favorite quote of mine). This is also probably the only place where you can hear the actual audio recordings of Morrison during both the infamous performance at L.A.’s Whiskey A-Go-Go in 1966, and also during the Miami concert in 1969 when he was convicted of indecent exposure. In contrast with The Doors, When You’re Strange makes an honest attempt to explore Morrison’s psyche. Not only did Stone alter Morrison’s persona to his liking, he also tried (unsuccessfully) to understand the way Morrison’s mind worked on a grandiose, profound scale. While DiCillo simply utilizes the facts at hand, actual footage and Depp’s narration to bring to light some ideas about Morrison’s psychological state, Stone tries to express this through a series of pseudo-intellectual acid trip sequences and Native American imagery, which proved to be mostly confusing to audiences. It’s also difficult to feel sympathy for Val Kilmer’s Morrison, though it is a tremendous performance. At the end of The Doors, we can’t help but view him as a vicious, pathetic sociopath who is perpetually under the influence of some type of chemical. However, When You’re Strange paints a more sympathetic portrait of Morrison: that of a highly intelligent but deeply troubled poet.

When You’re Strange is an uncompromising testament to the legend of the Doors and their music, and a fascinating collection of footage and photographs. It wouldn’t be unfair to say that people who aren’t Doors fans probably wouldn’t enjoy this film as much as those who are. But if you aren’t a Doors fan, you should be. So if you aren’t, that’s your problem.

Rating: 3 out of 4

Brian Eno's Influence on Deerhunter

Deerhunter is undoubtedly one of the most popular bands on the independent scene today, and with good reason.  They are masters of their craft, and with Bradford Cox as their mysterious and innovative front man, they have created some very memorable and amazing music.  From 2007's drone of "Cryptograms" to the band finding their own feeling and sound on 2008's "Microcastle", it is evident that they have some real talent as musicians.

However, I have recently become increasingly aware of the influence of Brian Eno on Deerhunter's sound.  Don't get me wrong, it's good, even subconsciously unavoidable, to utilize one's influences when creating any kind of art, but it seems that front man Bradford Cox and guitarist Lockett Pundt have overused, and possibly even stolen, aspects that stem directly from Eno's songs.  Take Eno's 1974 Masterpiece "Here Come the Warm Jets".  Several, if not all of the songs on this album, have been directly referenced and even copied by Deerhunter.

Not only are the notes, riffs, and styles copied, but also the tones and settings of the instruments in general.  It's surprising that I seem to be one of the first people to pick up on this, since Cox has cited Eno as an influence.  I am a huge fan of Deerhunter as well as Brian Eno, however these similarities are a little too much for comfort if you ask me.

To make it easier to draw the connections, I'll show you track by track. 

1. Needle In The Camel's Eye (Here Come The Warm Jets) - The guitar tone and chord on this song is exactly the same as the one in "Strange Lights" on Deerhunter's "Cryptograms". This same guitar tone can also be heard on many other Deerhunter tracks.  They use it a lot. Also, at 1:20 on this track, the note progression almost directly mimics that of the progression on "Desire Lines" from "Halcyon Digest".

2. Cindy Tells Me (Here Come The Warm Jets) - On this track, Eno builds a dark, basement-like fog of ambience, which is heard in the same form (ironically) on Deerhunter's "Basement Scene" from "Halycon Digest". Another correlation in these two songs is the use of the same quick, doo-wop style chords.

3. On Some Faraway Beach (Here Come The Warm Jets) - The "aaah-aahs" in this song are used in the same rhythm and progression on Deerhunter's "Revival" (Halcyon Digest), and on "Dot Gain" (Weird Era Cont.).

4. Here Come the Warm Jets (Here Come The Warm Jets) - This track also contains that eerie ambience that seems to be strictly associated with Deerhunter.  Surely they mimicked many of Eno's recording and production techniques in the studio.

5. The Paw Paw Negro Torch (Here Come The Warm Jets) - The last half of this track has a repetitive hi-hat rhythm and a bouncy bass line which distinctly correspond and are copied on Deerhunter's "Octet" (Cryptograms).  Also the way this song moves in general is relative to that Deerhunter track.

Like I said before, it's great to utilize influences and nod to other artists, but I felt that this couldn't be ignored.  There are obviously other strikingly similar Deerhunter-Eno connections, but Here Come The Warm Jets is the most obvious and easy to grasp upon first listen.  I'm not ignoring the fact that Brian Eno pioneered ambient music, nor am I claiming that he never influenced any other artists, but these similarities seem too close.  I love both of these artists, I just hope that Deerhunter can find a more original sound on their next record for Eno's sake.

Wes Anderson: Style Over Substance

Wes Anderson makes movies that are essentially about nothing. After revisiting “The Royal Tenenbaums” (which, I might add, is probably his best work that I’ve seen) a few weekends ago, I’ve been finding it very difficult to acknowledge him as a true force behind contemporary American cinema. And I feel that this is important because I know that so many would disagree with me. The fact is this: I don’t think Wes is much interested in substance. How could he be? He crafts shallow plots that are littered with cartoonish characters and a quirky sense of humor, not to mention a multitude of unnecessary style devices. For whatever reason, this superficial bullshit seems to appeal to loads of people. As for me, I am unimpressed.

As far as I’m concerned, the guy has one true skill: he is able to convey intimate emotions that all of us are familiar with. Some demonstrative scenes that immediately come to mind are Royal and Ethyl walking through a park, or Margot seeing Richie as she walks out of the bus, or Ethyl and Henry after she admits that she hasn’t “slept with a man in eighteen years.” The influence of Martin Scorsese (who happens to be Anderson’s close friend and mentor) is clearly evident; like Scorsese, Anderson can fluently meld eclectic soundtracks with imagery to a wonderful effect. Both directors also seem to be interested in characters that do bad things, but are unable to control themselves from doing these bad things. But while Scorsese elevated this notion to brilliance in such complex psychological studies as “Taxi Driver” and “Raging Bull”, Anderson falls short of expectations by using it as a humor device. Dry humor, quirky character interactions, on-screen captions and stop-motion animation do not make you a genius. Sorry, Wes.

How has he been able to convince people that his art is so profound? Sure, you get a few laughs, a few feel-good moments, but in all honesty, what else could anyone possibly get from Wes Anderson’s films? Fans will tell you it’s the originality of his approach to directing and writing that makes him so great. Okay, this is valid (kind of). Like Luis Buñuel (another key influence), Anderson creates a world of absurdity, surrealism, and mischief in his films. But while the great Buñuel used this approach to expose hypocrisy and flaws of modern society, Anderson seems to be doing it just for the sake of being quirky. At first, Anderson’s quirky, whimsical atmosphere seems uniquely entertaining and promising. But after awhile, it is so accentuated and overdone that it becomes annoyingly futile. Anderson’s movies don’t tell us anything, and they don’t ask us to look beneath the surface, which is almost entirely where his movies exist. They serve simply to showcase his skills as a stylist, nothing more and nothing less. And they appeal to people who are just as pretentious as Wes himself is.