Suck It and See

Suck It and See
(2011)
The Arctic Monkeys

I think T'Arctic Monkeys have been, as David Brent would say, having a laugh. With each of their three albums, the modern Saviors of British Rock have gotten heavier, and, to their peril, more serious. The dangers of a rock band taking itself seriously are myriad, and history is littered with Be Here Nows to serve warning.

Humbug showed them disappearing up their own asses. And I think they've figured that out since then. The first single off of Suck It and See, "Brick by Brick," followed where they left off, and the second single, "Don't Sit Down, Cos I've Moved Your Chair," said what I'd feared: Their desire to become the British Queens of the Stone Age had over-run all common sense. And they'd all grown beards. None of this boded well.

And then there's that title. Suck It and See. Stay classy, boys.

So imagine my surprise when I listened, and it ended up being an album of mostly melancholic guitar pop. A pleasant surprise if ever there was one.

It isn't a great album. Turner's lyrics are maturing well, but as far as the music goes, nothing much more than "competent" comes to mind. I've listened to it three times, and I can't hum a bar of anything. But that's not the point here. In an age where the release of an album no longer means anything, The Arctic Monkeys made me nervous, and they made me wonder. And don't think they don't know it.

I found out the other day that "suck it and see" is slang for giving it a try. Touché, T'Arctic Monkeys. Touché.

The CELTA Diaries, Pt. 2

There is a debate raging as to whether I am staying in Boston or Charlestown. It is ultimately of little consequence, because The Constitution Inn, where I am staying, is a fifteen or twenty minute stroll from The Garden, which is decidedly IN Boston.

My hotel is in a YMCA, and my room includes a kitchenette. It's a studio apartment, for all intents and purposes; it is simply two or three times as expensive, and comes with a maid service.

After I sorted out groceries and made lunch, I decided to take a walk over to Teaching House. To get to Faneuil Hall Marketplace, where Teaching House Boston is located, is about a thirty minute walk. Turns out, my classes will be held above a Godiva. I expect it to smell great, if nothing else.

Walking back, I took a slight detour and ended up near the Old North Church, which I haven't visited since I was five or six.

Paul Revere's statue is located in the church's backyard. I was more impressed by the back of his jersey, which says "Revere, 75". What I really want to know is if they'll give him a frowny face if the Bruins lose.

* * *

When I was finishing up my phone interview for CELTA, the woman interviewing me asked if I had friends in Boston. I said that I had a few. Her response was quick and alarmingly dry; "You should tell them you won't be seeing them much."

It is on the gossamer wings of these comforting words that I will go to class for the first tomorrow morning. Oddly enough, I look forward to it.

Location:Boston, MA

The CELTA Diaries, Pt. 1

Today marks the beginning of the next chapter of my life. In a few hours- more than expected, as my connecting flight has been delayed- I will arrive in Boston to spend the next month taking the CELTA course, the completion of which will certify me to teach English in other countries.

It may be accurate to say this is the beginning of the next chapter, as it's really just another transitional period, but at least this one isn't killing time like working at Disney was. If the course isn't a new chapter all on it's own, leaving for CELTA will constitute the end of this chapter and my return shall be the beginning of the next. Much like Before Christ immediately turns into After Death, I'll let you work out when the course actually takes place in this metaphor.

* * *

I am taking the CELTA course as a direct reaction to my unsuccessful JET application. In brief, the JET program hires people from all over the world to come to Japan and teach English for anywhere from one to five years. I applied back in October, but I did not get an interview. As it turns out, they were looking for people with experience and knowledge, not just unadulterated, and arguably blind, enthusiasm. Go figure.

That I can recall, this is the first time I've failed in something and then made subsequent steps to fix it so I wouldn't fail the next time. Certainly for anything on this scale. And this is the first time I've wanted to fix it. This is the first time I've wanted something enough to put in the effort. "Surely," I tell myself, as I head off into a month of relative social isolation and fiscal destitution, "surely that is a comforting thought? Surely that means we are on the right path?"

It remains for you and I to find out. But I'd say so.

Location:Philadelphia, PA

This Is Country Music

This Is Country Music
(2011)
Brad Paisley

Bob and I used to debate the merits of contemporary country music. Most of these conversations escape my memory, but there was one time when I brought out my two major sticking points: The lack of breadth in subject matter, which relates directly to my biggest problem, the vaguely patronizing way with which the genre seems to treat its audience. In response, he nodded sagely and said, "Simple stories about life."

Now, whether you agree with him or me, this is still my problem with country as it stands today. Bob looks at country music as presenting the audience with what they want, simple stories put into song. I feel like the genre is constantly insulting its own audience by practically refusing to talk about social issues or complex stories. The world isn't always a happy place in country music, but it's always cut and dry. The envelope containing the accepted subject matter in country is very narrow.

For about a decade now, Brad Paisley has been finding very clever and very subtle ways to push that envelope. Most of his songs concern the normal fare; "I love my wife", "Weren't we stupid when we were young?", "Fishing and hunting while drinking beer is paradise on this Earth", etc. But his writing is so witty, it doesn't sound like he's pandering. He's not writing about these things because he knows it's what the audience wants: he's writing about them because he is, in many ways, a traditionalist, and they are the conventions of the genre he loves.

But every now and then, he lets out a song like "American Saturday Night," about multiculturalism in America. Not a big deal in most genres of music, but country is, both fairly and unfairly, thought of as the last bastion of racism and intolerance. So that was actually a pretty big deal. And that it was a hit made it even better. Most of the audience missed the point, yes, but that's not his fault.

So it's a little disappointing for me when This Is Country Music, his newest album, opens with a title song that features everything I don't normally like about country. Take this verse as a prime example of what I'm talking about:

Are you haunted by the echo of your mother on the phone,
cryin' as she tells you that your brother is not coming home?
And if there's anyone that still has pride and the memory of those,
that died defending the old red, white, and blue,
this is country music, and we do.

Maybe it's just me. I don't like it when music panders that blatantly. And I expect Paisley to be better about this kind of thing. It's as though he feels he may have over-played his hand on American Saturday Night, and so he's here to make amends.

The biggest complaint about This Is Country Music is that it's too long. If Paisley had cut it back from 65 minutes to 35 or 40, it would be an absolute slam-dunk. As it is, songs like "Be the Lake" and "One of Those Lives" are accomplished and entertaining enough, but they never amount to more than filler. And while country music is all about giving the people what they want, which is usually more, Paisley is smart enough to know better. Still, a remarkable talent at what I can only assume to be the peak of his powers. It may not be a great album like his last one, but it's still damn good.

LCD Soundsystem

"New York, I Love You" was, and, it seems, forever shall be, the last song LCD Soundsystem ever play in a live setting. Tonight, after a three-hour farewell show in New York City's Madison Square Garden, James Murphy's band of miscreants hung it up for good. And I don't blame them.

I came to LCD Soundsystem slowly, after reading a number of glowing reviews for 2007's Sound of Silver. I picked it up at a Newberry Comics in Connecticut, and I can still remember listening to "Get Innocuous!" for the first time, driving in my car at night with my best friend from high school sitting next to me. Music that doesn't just ride a groove, but relies on it, was new to me. Despite being the simplest form rock can take (and I mean that not in reference to its execution, but to its form), I took ages to warm to it. But it worked its way in, and "Get Innocuous!", "Time to Get Away," and "North American Scum," the opening salvo of Silver, slowly bore deeper and deeper into my mind.

A year later, I picked up the debut album, LCD Soundsystem, in New York City, while on a day off from my job as a camp counselor. It also took me some time to warm to, and, in fact, I would say I'm still working on it. But there is a reason for this. When LCD Soundsystem started, James Murphy was already clever. His songs could make you move, and his words could make you laugh. But there wasn't any heart. As cliché as that sounds, it's the truth. Much of what he says throughout LCD Soundsystem is genuine, but there isn't a moment of honesty to be found within its 100 minutes. That's what Sound of Silver changed, and that was what made me love this band. "Someone Great" and "All My Friends," the central pillars of Silver, remain two of the most touching, moving, honest, and thrilling songs I know. They are without question two of the songs I hold most dear.

After three years, in 2010, LCD Soundsystem released This Is Happening, with the proviso that it would be the final LCD Soundsystem album. From almost any other band, it would have felt like an expression of frustration in being out of ideas, an excuse to duck out before hitting bottom, or a desperate grab for the "No, no, please don't go"s. But there was something about the way Murphy delivered the news that made me okay with it. The band were getting bigger than he wanted them to be; not that he didn't want LCD to be popular, but James Murphy seems to be one of the rare sorts who are truly about the music, and he expressed repeatedly a desire to be free to do other things. So it was with knowledge of what was to come that LCD released their third and final album, and launched an extensive tour. And it was very, very good.

As I said above, what set LCD apart, starting with Sound of Silver, was Murphy's honesty, his willingness to put it all out there in between the songs meant only to make you sweat. This Is Happening epitomizes what made them so special. Movers like album opener "Dance Yrself Clean" were better than any of the other dance music being put out there; if you saw it live, you know nothing demolishes a concert venue like "Dance Yrself Clean." Meanwhile, "All I Want" and "I Can Change" were two staggering pieces of honesty in a scene that tends to pride itself on being one step removed from the situation.

It is an irony that has not been ignored that LCD Soundsystem became a flagship band for the hipster scene. The first single, "Losing My Edge," was an ironic play on the hipster mentality, an out-of-step hipster from way back talking about all the new kids and how the internet has leveled the playing field. Murphy never seemed to want the status of a Hipster hero, and, while he never turned out a song as blatantly hipster-bashing as Arcade Fire's recent "Rococo," he kept his distance. He just wanted to make great music. He never tried to deny his influences, and he never tried to hide them. Most bands would feel like naughty children if you pointed out the similarity of the guitars on "All I Want" to David Bowie's "'Heroes'". Murphy nodded and said, "Yep, that's where I got that from." And kudos to him. In an age with as much music as there has been, there's no point in pretending your influences don't exist. Embracing them gives you more freedom to do what you want, and to come up with something interesting.

I had the good fortune this summer of seeing LCD Soundsystem three times. The first time was at the Pitchfork festival in Chicago last summer. It was transcendent. The eight minutes of "All My Friends" are frozen in my mind, a series of perfect moments. But it was during the final song of the night, "New York, I Love You," that I saw a flash of what we'd all truly be losing when LCD threw in the towel; three-quarters of the way through the song, the music gave way to an acapella rendition of Alicia Key's "New York". And it was stunning. I discovered in that moment that a band which always seemed to rely on repetition to hammer the point home didn't need it at all. They just liked it better that way.

There was no acapella rendition of "New York" in tonight's finale. LCD Soundsystem are no more. Their Wikipedia entry even says so. And while this is the first time I've had to say goodbye to an extant band which means something to me, at least they never rode it out, and at least they never seemed to take it for granted. James Murphy has left behind something flawless, on his own terms, and now he's free to do whatever he wants. Wouldn't you want it that way if you had a choice?

Hywel, Don't Read This: The Best of 2010 Playlist

I was prompted by a friend to make a playlist summarizing the albums on my Best of 2010 list. I spent a lot of time on this, choosing not necessarily the most representative nor the best songs from each album, but I tried to make a cohesive statement that incorporated all 16 albums. I cheated on one, but it was worth it, and the song I used still came out in 2010. In case you want to make it.

The Best of 2010 Playlist

1. "Right On," The Roots, How I Got Over

2. "Each Time Is a New Time," Field Music, Field Music (Measure)

3. "White Sky," Vampire Weekend, Contra

4. "Glitter Freeze," Gorillaz, Plastic Beach

5. "We Used to Wait," Arcade Fire, The Suburbs

6. "Anyone's Ghost," The National, High Violet

7. "Come Alive (The War of the Roses)," Janelle Monáe, The ArchAndroid (Suites II and III)

8. "Used to Be," Beach House, Teen Dream

9. "On a Good Day," Joanna Newsom, Have One On Me

10. "Vesuvius," Sufjan Stevens, The Age of Adz

11. "Monster," Kanye West, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

12. "All I Want," LCD Soundsystem, This Is Happening

13. "Jamelia," Caribou, Swim

14. "Dancing On My Own," Robyn, Body Talk

15. "Trouble Comes Running," Spoon, Transference

16. "The Needle and the Damage Done," Laura Marling, The Blues Run the Game 7" single

We Need to Talk

I'm leaving tomorrow. For at least the next five months. I'm going to Florida. I know this is sudden, I know I didn't give you any warning.

At least give me a chance to explain?

I'm taking part in the Disney College Program until the middle of May. What?

Yes, I know, I should have told you. But I didn't, and now you have to decide if you're going to act like an adult.

I don't know that I'll be gone the whole time. I may be back. I may even be back more regularly than I have been lately...

That's hardly fair. I'm not saying I'm the best Blogger in the world, as far as reliability, but I hope you know I try my best. I really do.

The point of all this is that, for the next five months, if I'm not around, don't be offended. It's not that I don't love you. It's that I've got other business to take care of, and for a little while, I have to put that business first. I still love you.

Well, I still feel strongly for you.