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.

Untitled Setlist #1

I have to apologise for yesterday's playlist; I was hasty, and upon further listening, it just doesn't work. I'll be editing it over the next few weeks in an attempt to get it right, because there are some things there I really like. Particularly the string of "History Song," "The Greatest," and "Indoor Fireworks."

Here, in the mean time, is a significantly happier set I made today.

1."Sie Liebt Dich" by The Beatles
2."Ticks" by Brad Paisley
3."Dreaming of You" by The Coral
4."Anything You Want" by Spoon
5."Memo to My Son" by Randy Newman
6."You're So Pretty..." by Field Music
7."All Is Love" by Karen O and the Kids
8."Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)" by Kate Bush
9."Tribulations" by LCD Soundsystem
10."Heartbeat" by Annie

This is Not a Happy Playlist

1."Death Take Your Fiddle," Spiritualized, Songs in A&E
2."Atoms for Peace," Thom Yorke, The Eraser
3."I Don't Wanna Grow Up," Tom Waits, The Bone Machine
4."Lemonworld," The National, High Violet
5."History Song," The Good, The Bad & The Queen, The Good, The Bad & The Queen
6."The Greatest," Cat Power, The Greatest
7."Indoor Fireworks," Elvis Costello, King of America
8."All I Want," LCD Soundsystem, This Is Happening

This playlist was assembled for a friend going through a "Folk Phase." I wanted to stay true to that spirit in what I chose for her, either aesthetically or formally. "Death Take Your Fiddle" and "Indoor Fireworks" are fairly straightforward in their being folk-related, while "Atoms for Peace" and "All I Want," for example, are not folk in timbre, but they are formally rooted in folk construction.

I'm a big fan of transitioning through sounds: the guitar sound carries over from "I Don't Want to Grow Up" into "Lemonworld"; the wigged-out piano on the end of "History Song" leads into the melancholy chords of "The Greatest." "All I Want" ends the disc symbolically, as this is meant to bridge someone out of folk into the wider world of... I don't know, whatever it is it's vaguely hipster.

The mood is overwhelmingly bleak; this may not be the best collection of songs to send to someone you've a crush on. Unless they know you have a crush on them. Then good on ya. If there's a Part 2, it will be a touch perkier. All told, it runs about 30 minutes. I'd say it uses them well.

This Film Is Not Yet Rated

Kirby Dick's 2006 documentary This Film Is Not Yet Rated explores, or, rather, exposes, the Motion Picture Association of America's film rating system. We're all familiar with the system, which deals out ratings for movies that range from G up through NC-17, which forbids entry of any patron under the age of 17. The film begins with a brief history of the system, which was instituted in 1968 as a way to prevent outright censorship. It seems a noble cause; so long as movies come with a ticket warning you to the content, it was reasoned, then there was no reason to forbid the inclusion of most content. It gave way to an underhanded form of the same censorship; an NC-17 rating pulls the rug out of most films, immediately reducing the distribution potential, the marketing budget, and can ultimately mean the loss of millions upon millions of dollars. This encourages the filmmakers to edit their films down to receive an R rating. Sounds like censorship to me.

The ratings board consists of a small group of individuals, who view and rate all the media content released. I imagine this to be a very angry group of people; they have to watch a lot of very bad movies, and likely don't get to say anything to the fact. At least critics get to tear into films, and that makes them feel better. The raters are kept anonymous, to preserve them from outside pressures, and the one part of this film I didn't like was Kirby's quest to find their identities. Don't get me wrong; I don't think so powerful a group of malcontents should be kept anonymous, but the segments involving the chase seemed gimmicky. Not that they weren't fun. He hired a private detective to track them down, and she does good work.

This film will make you angry, so long as you care about freedom of expression. Whether you care about movies specifically or not shouldn't matter. It will ruffle your feathers either way. My two favourite bits: Sex is more actively suppressed than violence, which is about as backwards as anything I can imagine, and during an appeal, should a filmmaker choose to pursue one when their rating is handed down from the mountain, the filmmaker is not allowed to cite precedent. TFINYR shows the hypocrisy of Sharon Stone's vagina being allowed in the R-rated Basic Instinct, while a bit of Maria Bello's pubic hair in The Cooler earned the film an NC-17. And they had notes, so, yes, they do know it was the pubic hair that did it. As Bello points out, she is a mother, and she doesn't want some censorship board telling her how to raise her children. Which is essentially what they do.

R.I.P., LCD Soundsystem

When I heard that LCD Soundsystem are breaking up after they finish the tour in support of recent release This is Happening, I wasn't sure how to react. I was disappointed, a little confused, sure, but I was alright with it. Leader of the pack James Murphy decided the band were bigger than he wanted, and he's pulling the plug while he can still ride airplanes unmolested. Fair enough. Sound of Silver is a great record, one of my favourites, and the more recent This is Happening is, while not quite an equal, certainly a great release. So there was at least that feeling you get when we lose a band we admire. But there wasn't any sadness, really.

I hear stories about the reactions people had when The Beatles dissolved, and I long for that. Why haven't I become so attached to a band that I have to become a shut-in for a week to deal with the emotions? From an academic standpoint, I'm understanding; The Beatles were a band, sure, but their timing was such that they were important as a part of the culture of the moment. That's why there will never be another Beatles; their frustratingly perfect sense of craft is of course a part of it, but no band will ever matter like they did because no other band will ever be so entirely of the moment. It's impossible. Whether I understood it academically or not, I felt gypped.

Thinking about it, I told myself most of the bands I come to have already had their time. Some are encroaching on borrowed time; I'm upset Blur are considering a full reunion, with an album and all that. The oft-mentioned Spoon and Yeah Yeah Yeahs, as well as Radiohead and, depending on where they head next, Coldplay, are the only bands going where I have any emotional stake. If any of those bands announced they were breaking up, I'd probably be upset for a while. But here I was, confronted with the demise of LCD Soundsystem. Despite the fact that they have fashioned an album I value above just about any offered by the aforementioned groups, I felt nothing substantial. I didn't feel connected to the group, really.

I saw LCD Soundsystem play last Saturday at the Pitchfork Music Festival in Chicago. They were the headliners for the day, and they tore the place apart. There was a great balance of material between the new and the old. The band was on-point, and James Murphy is unquestionably a fantastic vocalist. Not always a great singer, but an A-List presence on the mic. The seven minutes of "All My Friends" was the best single concert experience of my life. I was right up front, against the barricade. There were security guards showering the audience with water, and from the moment those piano chords began resounding across Union Park, time genuinely seemed to freeze.

They ended the show with "New York, I Love You but You're Bringing Me Down," which, really, is the perfect way for LCD Soundsystem to end every show. It feels like stumbling home from a drunk night, like every good concert should. At the end of the song, the band went mute, and a stunningly quiet, stunningly perfect three-part harmony of "Empire State of Mind," the Alicia Keys/Jay-Z collaboration, wrapped up the show. Ostensibly a party band, LCD Soundsystem revealed themselves in less than twenty seconds of music to be twice the musicians, twice the unit, twice the band, that many held them to be. Myself included.

In that moment, I realised that LCD Soundsystem are walking out at exactly the right moment. They own their part of the world right now. The only ups from here would lead to dysfunction, would lead to resentment, would lead to an ending this magnificent band don't deserve. We won't be made to watch their slow demise, to listen to the lackluster releases. LCD Soundsystem have given their fans the best gift possible; they are preserved, for ever, in amber, as a perfect band, as something to aspire to. And I love them for it.

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.

The ArchAndroid

The ArchAndroid
(2010)
Janelle Monáe

How do you rate an artist of ambition? It's a harder question than you think. As (forgive me) a critic, I find myself in a position of wanting to reward and encourage ambition, while needing to look at the product I'm holding in hand. I need to judge the music for what it is, not for what it represents.

If it were all about the intent, Janelle Monáe's debut would certainly earn an A+ for effort. The ArchAndroid is over an hour of music, spanning a large number of genres. There's high-wire funk, tight-grooved R&B, a pop ballad (The Carpenters with a drum machine, and, yes, it's just as awesome as that sounds), and then there's the latter third.

We're dealing with a compound album here, consisting of two separate bits. There's no relation, musically, between the first two thirds and the final third. The first bits are indebted to James Brown and George Clinton. The last third features an Of Montreal song. Not a song that sounds like Of Montreal, but an actual song written and recorded by Kevin Barnes, the man responsible for Of Montreal. I'm still trying to figure out what it's doing here. Briefly, I thought it was a mistake. If you're at all familiar with Of Montreal's queazy art-pop, that will give you a vague, slightly mistaken idea of how this album goes out.

Whether or not The ArchAndroid works is a good question. It certainly never fails to, but the album only takes off sporadically. "Come Alive (War of the Roses)," "Tightrope," "Cold War," and "Oh, Maker" are phenomenal. The rest of the album is consistent, and promises great things in the future. The reviews I'd read earlier of this album left me confused, as it didn't seem terribly genre-spanning, up until the change over into Suite III which marks the final third. There are two albums by two different artists here, or, at least, a single artist separated properly by a good twenty years. The music does me fine, but the ambition blows me away.