The Suburbs

The Suburbs
(2010)
Arcade Fire

When Arcade Fire first came around, I wasn't one for them. I actively disliked them. I felt they were over-hyped, an easy hipster (the term didn't exist yet, but I knew what I meant) benchmark for the self-consciously hip. They were over-rated, and would soon disappear into obscurity. Of course, I hadn't listened to a note of their music.

When I finally deigned to listen, a few months after Neon Bible came out, it took a while, but I got there. And I really enjoy that album. I do not love it, but I feel it every time I listen to it, which is what Arcade Fire are after. They do not make music to contemplate cooly, though you're welcome to if you'd like. They make music that's meant to get right into the core of you and slap you around, to stir up those emotions so many musicians forget.

It took me another two and a half years to listen to Funeral. That was about two weeks ago. And it's really brilliant. I haven't heard an album that good in years. It's better than most of my favourite albums, something I'll have to take into account the next time I do the poll.

Due to my conversion, I've been listening to The Suburbs with a bit more intent. Like Joanna Newsom's imposing Have One on Me, an album I still haven't worked all the way through (You try it. That's right. You can't either. Not all at once, anyway.), I haven't sat through the entirety of what's on offer here. I have listened to the whole thing, just not all at once. And I haven't made it through the album twice. I've listened to 3/4 of it twice, and that 3/4 is great. I imagine the last fourth will fall in line come its second go.

They're still reaching for the emotional gist. Win Butler has calmed down since the last album, likely out of a sense of futility, and it suits him. Neon Bible's weakest point was hard to define from its greatest strength; it is a record of bombast and straight-forward lyrics. "Better stop now, before it's too late. Eating in the ghetto on a hundred-dollar plate," he said, intoning the oncoming recession and venting frustration over six years of an inept President.

Here, he's more alone. It's called The Suburbs, but there is no song here about the soul-crushing nature of that particular residential community. Instead, it is suggested in the weariness of the everyday people. There are grand statements here, as there will always be on an Arcade Fire album (I hope), but they are presented with tact instead of a bullhorn. God bless 'im for it. Is it better than Funeral? No. And don't bother asking that question ever again. Because little is. But it is better than Neon Bible. Where that one was immediate, this one requires your patience, and a little time, to reveal how truly good it is.

Toy Story 3

Toy Story 3
(2010)
Directed by Lee Unkrich

Every Pixar film makes me nervous. The previews always make me worry that the film will finally be The One; the terrible one. Cars is the established black sheep of the family, followed by A Bug's Life, but those are both still very good films. Up until How to Train Your Dragon, Dreamworks would have killed to produce either of those films.

The point is that I'm always worried. I worried about Up all the way until I saw it. If regular Pixar films make me nervous, sequels practically give me breakdowns. It's on the principle of the matter. If Pixar are finally, truly going to trip, please, God, don't let it be with a cash-in sequel. I would lose respect for a company I have nothing but deep, deep love for.

So I was nervous about Toy Story 3. Was it going to live up to what's come before? Could it, is probably the bigger question. After eleven years, did the writers still have a feel for the same characters? Could they come up with a story that was worth telling all these years later? Fuck yes, as it turns out.

I'm not big on recaps, and all you need to know is that the story, much like 1 and 2, centers on Woody trying to get back to Andy. But this time, Andy's leaving for college in a matter of days, and Woody, along with the rest of the gang, have accidentally been donated to a kindercare center.

The majority of the film is very good, and would earn a very robust B+, but I want to focus on the last fifteen minutes. They are perfect. As a conclusion to the trilogy, you couldn't ask for anything more. It's impossible. Not only does the conclusion of this film end the movie in a satisfying way, it creates an emotional arc that started with the very first Toy Story. This film has made three separate movies work as a true trilogy, where your enjoyment of the first entry is increased with your knowledge of the end. I read a review earlier today which proclaimed "Bring on Toy Story 4!" This dumbass missed the whole point of the breathtaking film he just saw. I pray Pixar won't make such a thing. Certainly not while the current set remain in charge. It would break my heart, and that's not hyperbole. If you see this film, you'll understand why.

I spent the last ten minutes in a perpetual state of crying, because little moment after little moment hit me just right. I won't give any of it away, because the beauty of those last moments is in realising you knew what was going to happen the whole time, and that it's exactly what should occur. The film hits all the emotional bullseyes it wants, because it never once reaches for them. As with every Pixar film, and this is what they do so very right, there's no pandering. They aren't trying to sell you on this story, and they aren't dumbing it down for the kids. They make what they want to see, and it just so happens that the rest of us do, too.

This Is Happening

This is Happening
(2010)
LCD Soundsystem

LCD Soundsystem were founded on the premise of self-awareness. James Murphy, the singer and songwriter, has spent all three albums embodying the persona of a man aware of himself to the point of paralysis. How much of this is actually a persona remains unclear, which is part of the appeal. Their early singles, such as "Losing My Edge," were ironic slams against the knowingly hip. So it seems appropriate that such a knowing band would make their final album knowing it going in. This is, I'm sad to say, supposed to be the final LCD Soundsystem album. And it's written all over its face. Or grooves.

The lyrics, which Murphy tends to extemporize in the last possible moments, reference going home everywhere. Out of nine tracks, at least four of them explicitly say a variation on "take me home." Murphy is tired, and doesn't want to play anymore. At least, not as LCD.

So it's fitting that This is Happening isn't a big leap forward for the band. It is, in fact, a summation of their previous accomplishments. Each song here can be traced to a previous LCD song.As far as being a survey of their style, it could almost be a Best Of, but for one track ("You Wanted a Hit" never quite works). Murphy has always fascinated with his ability to take major landmarks of pop and tack them to other bits, making something new. David Bowie has always been a favourite, but here it rises to new levels. If David Bowie was working in 2010 instead of 1980, I think it's very possible that this is the music he'd be making. "All I Want" uses the guitar from 'Heroes,' and "Drunk Girls" uses an ever-so-Bowie two-note hook.

Oh, it's also hilarious. "Drunk girls know that love is an astronaut: It comes back, but it's never the same." Brilliant.

Sound of Silver was great because it took the knowing sense of humour from the first LCD Soundsystem album and tacked it onto a real emotional core. I don't care for the first LCD album, because it's too removed. "All My Friends" and "Someone Great" were songs from Silver that drew you in and slowly devastated you with their perfect observations, and they helped make Sound of Silver a great, great album. I'm not so sure This is Happening is on the same level, but it's damn close. And that's better than most bands could manage. Let alone a band that tries as hard as LCD Soundsystem.

For We Are Living In a Digital World...

Plastic Beach
(2010)
Gorillaz

There are many things to expect from a Gorillaz album. I think, with two prior full-lengths and a pair of B-Side collections, Damon Albarn has established a decent set of parameters. This is a quietly experimental band, of course, but their sound is fairly well established. You know when you're listening to Gorillaz.

For example, we know to expect a fusion of hip-hop and pop. Plastic Beach delivers there with the superb "Superfast Jellyfish," featuring Demon Days highlights De La Soul. You'll remember them from "Feel Good, Inc." What we don't expect is an album lacking a "Feel Good, Inc." That is to say, Plastic Beach doesn't come ready made with a massive single. It has some great songs, many in fact, but it doesn't come with a song destined for the Top 40. This may not be a bad thing.

We've come to expect unusual collaborations. Bobby Womack, unheard from for the last twenty years, makes two rip-roaring appearances, on first single "Stylo" and on near closer "Cloud of Unknowing." What we don't expect is that Damon Albarn has given the vast majority of the spotlight here to those collaborators. He is heard on every track, at one point or another, but you don't get the feeling that this is his album, and some friends are stopping by. It feels like Gorillaz have finally become what I believe Albarn meant them to be all along; a consortium, the King Crimson of pop. (To quote Fripp, "King Crimson is not a band, it is a way of doing things.")

We can expect airtight compositions. It's a Damon Albarn project, and this is a foregone conclusion. If Blur's final offering, Think Tank, suffered one ailment, it was that the songs were hermetically sealed. There was no oxygen anywhere. This has been an ongoing issue for Albarn. In Blur, Coxon gave ragged, soulful life to the songs which Albarn so brilliantly constructed. There has never been any Coxon on Gorillaz albums (pause for *sigh*). Demon Days, for all its daring, suffers the same problems as Think Tank. Aesthetically speaking, Plastic Beach has the least organic sound of anything Albarn has released. It is an album delivered from the middle of the 1980s, with synthesizers everywhere.

But here's the most unexpected thing: This is, without a doubt, Albarn's most feeling album in over ten years. I'm extensively (re; obsessively) familiar with his entire, remarkable discography, and nothing comes close to feeling like Plastic Beach, save 13, my favourite Blur album. And then he had Coxon. The highlights on this album are numerous, but none hit me so hard as "On Melancholy Hill," where, according to Damon, "you can't get what you want, but you can get me." He's only made me cry once before, back in 2003, with "Battery in Your Leg," the final track on Blur's final record. Here, Albarn taps into that vein of melancholy and sweetness which seems to belong to him alone.

The album opens as one would want a Gorillaz album to; there is pop mixed in with hip-hop and world music. But then it does a few things differently. For the most part, the hip-hop disappears. The album builds to a powerful, remarkable set of six songs that constitute the body, from "Stylo" to "On Melancholy Hill." Both the previous Gorillaz albums,irrefutably excellent in their own right, were spotty. Here, there is only one mis-step, "Broken," the removal of which would make this, dare I say it, a perfectly sequenced album. And on the way, we get insight into the remarkable talents of Damon Albarn, which continue to flower in directions nobody could have ever possibly expected.

Field Music (Measure)

Field Music (Measure)
2010
Field Music

I wonder sometimes, when I see that a new album exceeds the 45 minute mark, why artists want to give us this much music. I don't mind when it's a real album, with a good sense of sequencing and a larger-scale vision in regards to a pervading mood or a theme. But most new releases exceed 50 minutes, many reach past an hour, and this often seems to be only because the artist doesn't know the difference between a killer track and studio filler. The CD has freed us to put out anything we want to, whereas vinyl forced us to delineate between the tracks we wanted to and the tracks we needed to release.

Ironically, as the format of the album is dying, the album band seems to be making a comeback, and while the focus required to make a real album does not always dictate brevity, the two often come hand-in-hand. Witness Field Music, possibly the modern album band. Of the four Brewis Brothers' albums which predate Field Music (Measure), only one of them exceeds the forty minute mark. And that was The Week That Was, Peter Brewis' side project. Their best album, Tones of Town, flies by, clocking in at 31 minutes and change. There's no room for fat anywhere on that album. And now this band, this band which embodies my ideal of brevity in the name of perfection, has released Field Music (Measure), an old-school double album which times out to somewhere in the neighbourhood of 70 minutes.

I say this is an 'old-school double album.' It's sequenced like one. I've listened to it on vinyl, and each side has its own feel. This is how albums, double or otherwise, are meant to be. It reminds me of XTC's brilliant English Settlement. The two bands bear comparing, even if, from a timbrel standpoint, they sound almost nothing alike. Field Music are cleaner, more refined. XTC are a little sloppier. The Brewis brothers each have smooth tenors, as opposed to Andy Partridge's rough-edged howl. XTC became more precise with age. The Brewis Brothers are starting to sound like Led Zeppelin.

What XTC and Field Music have in common is that both draw massive benefits from repeated listens. Forensic levels of detail, which reward the attentive ear, litter all of their collective releases. The intriguing difference here, I believe, is that while XTC were a pop band with artistic tendencies, Field Music are an art band with pop tendencies. That is to say, XTC become more impressive while retaining their enjoyability, and Field Music become more (read: immensely) enjoyable while retaining their impressiveness. The first time through Field Music (Measure) was too much for me. There was too much to digest intellectually for it to hit my gut. The second time flew right by.

For those unfamiliar with Field Music, we have here precise, weird, blindingly brilliant pop music. It's all a bit angular, and it's not very loose, but the melodies throughout are top-notch, and the music rides an impressive sense of groove. Any band that can make 11/8 work without you noticing is riding a great groove. "Let's Write a Book" has an amazing riff at its core. "In the Mirror" opens the album with a dark, foreboding guitar line. I like it for personal reasons. Are there flaws? Certainly. The third side isn't as engaging as the rest, and the closer, "It's About Time," standing on its own, is indulgent. But within the context of the album, which is, mind you, what this is, everything has found its proper place, and the relaxed strings and score-like dashes of piano serve as a come down from what you've just experienced. Is it for everyone? Of course it's not. None of the best stuff is. But it's amazing, what you can do with 70 minutes, when you have a need, and not a want, to fill it.

Shutter Islander

I've attended a second showing of Shutter Island, and wish to redress my previous review. For one thing, the edits I mentioned before are, in fact, limited to the dream sequences, and are used for effect. They are quite effective once you figure out why they are there. There's still one shot involving a glass of water which I can't figure out, but other than that, I've no complaints. This is an immaculately assembled movie from a technical standpoint, though the sound issue in the beginning which I mentioned is still there.

I remain resolute that the acting is superb all-around. The performances are in fact better than I thought they were originally. When you see Shutter Island a second time, you realise how everything everyone says has two meanings, and the actors manage to convey this throughout. Whole conversations read with an entirely new tilt the second time. From a narrative standpoint, it is an airtight film. I do not know how the movie would fair on a third viewing, and I probably won't find out, but it is very much worth your time. Certainly, certainly twice. And I'm giving it an UpGrade.

Ed. Note; The Olympics have prevented me from getting caught up on reviews. I promise I will be back in a week with more reviews of Field Music, Joanna Newsom, Hot Chip, and likely more.

Beach House

Teen Dream
(2010)
Beach House

Growers are the best records.

This is a fairly well-established principle of the music lover, the connoisseur, the audiophile; albums that get better on repeated listening are generally preferred, and for the obvious reason that they give you, in a purely fiscal sense, more bang for your buck.

Growers are fairly common; not common enough, unfortunately, and they tend to become less common as the public taste grows away from albums, but they aren't exactly a rare beast. You'll always be able to find a few. What's less common, and what I tend to appreciate the most, is a sub-family of the grower album, the Active Grower. Now, the Active Grower is an album that actually grows on you as you listen the first time. These tend to be albums with a hypnotic power, which, I'll admit, could be argued as a form of cheating, but it works for me, so who's to argue?

I haven't listened to Beach House before. This album, Teen Dream, is a lovely thing, with great, slow-burning melodies. The track that first stuck out to me was "Walk in the Park," which sounds so much like Grizzly Bear's "Two Weeks" that it provoked me to pull out Veckatimest and give it a listen. The rest of the album follows the same general pattern, with dreamy tracks topped by sweet, hummable melodies. It's all very... nice, I suppose. But not in the bad way.

No, this is actually very good. And as you listen to it, you get sucked further in... most of this album hovers at a similar tempo, and, as I said earlier, it becomes hypnotic. By the end, you love every moment of it. And then you start it over and realise you loved all of it the whole time.

Hut Two Three Four

There is Love in You
(2010)
Four Tet

In the last year or two, I've discovered a growing love for electronic music. Not necessarily dance electronic, though it never hurts if I can move to it. No, what I like, and quite specifically, is being able to listen to the same groove for seven minutes. I enjoy that. I like sinking into the sensation, and letting myself go. The best electronic music doesn't just make me lose my sense of time; it runs over time with a bulldozer. And that's what There is Love in You does so spectacularly.

Here we have a very gentle record, though at no point does it fall into the category of ambiance. The instrumentation is never pressing or aggressive, it never intrudes on a room, but it sits there, comfortable that you are interested enough to give it most of your attention. Any time you start to fade, it pulls you back in with a new detail.

The only unfortunate part of being fairly new to electronic music is that I don't have much to say about it. I know what I like. I like Four Tet. From the albums I already have, this is going to be a great year, folks. Get comfy.