Alphabet game - Album reviews

A is for: Assume Form

Pitchfork, when I get my hands on you...To rate this album a 5 is absurd, but then again, Pitchfork has not been a reliable quality metric for some time. It's also supsected, and probably true, that this was a retaliatory review in response to Blake's critique of an article in which they called one of his new tracks at the time "sad boy music". In any case, remnants of this album are ubiquitous in my music catalogue, though it's a kind of quiet brilliance where it's easy to forget that this one release of his churned out gem after gem. I'd argue this is peak James Blake. He proves that he can cater to the mainstream trap sound (Mile High), but doesn't neglect interesting instrumenetals, letting other genuises of the field in his orbit lend a hand (Barefoot in the Park). With sound, Blake still immerses you visually - Can't Belive The Way We Flow sounds like two figurines inside a jewelry box. And may I just say, it's hard to get "sad boy" out of this album when it's so romantic? He sweetly teases his subject - "Are you in love? Do your best impression for me"...very swoon-worthy, (Are You In Love?). Besides substantial lyrics, what I appreciate is how sonically interesting each track is. You're never bored, and he gets lent a hand from several collaborators including Andre 3000 and Rosalia. One of my favorite love songs is on here as well; with lyrics like "I'll slip right into the cracks between you and him " and "I wouldn't do this on my own, but I'm not on my own", it's an ode to the absurdity of love and all its quirks, but it's also a promise: wherever you're headed, that's where I'll go (I'll Come Too). The music video is pretty ridiculous, too. Overall, this is a solid album where Blake's mastery of sound is on full display, a real quiet stunner. I don't feel it gets nearly the amount of recognition it deserves, so take the advice from the album itself - "don't miss it".

B is for: the bends

I cheated but I'll remind myself that for the letter 'T', I'm not allowed to use an album that starts with 'The'. I wanted to write about this mainly to gush about Radiohead as soon as possible. Honestly it's hard to believe this was released in 1995. I love this album, and I didn't always. I, like most people, gravitated towards the beep-boop of ok computer, especially with its 'Animal farm' and '1984' references - perfectly ripe for a rebellious teenager to latch onto. Now, being just a bit older than Yorke was when this album was dropped, I've come to appreicate this pent up pressure cooker that unleashes all its frustration about commercial success onto its listener. In truth, The Bends captures the troubling and contradictory feelings that are trademarks of angst. Yorke acknowledges how on the tip of your tongue these feelings can be, recognizing that the "words are coming out all weird" as he succumbs to "The Bends". Planet Telex, in all its sultry psychadelic hopelessness is such a good opener it's stupid. Now I could write a whole freview over Fake Plastic Trees, but I think it goes without saying it is one of THE Radiohead songs. Funnny, they couldn't get away from Creep's shadow and then incidentally created another masterpiece. The symbolism, the legends and lore (Apparently Yorke was crying during the recording of the last bit of lyrics), "It wears me out" song had Tumblr in a chokehold...but sometimes the masses get it right. This song really is one of the greatest rock songs of all time, and it doesn't fuss or yell, just despairs. Since we ought to listen to albums by their intended track listing, I have to say the ordering of The Bends definitely reinforces that uncomfortable and disjointed feeling, fitting for a band that's sort of writhing and itching from under the commercial success that fits like a wool sweater that's too small around them.

The album is not without its weaker spots. High and Dry is safe, pleasing enough, but melodically boring when its stacked up against musical giants like Fake Plastic Trees and Street Spirit. To be clear, though. it's still a solid track. I guess really it just speaks to the album's enormity, if nothing else. That's also not to say a more scaled back song means its weak, either. Nice Dream and Bullet Proof...are beautiful, with Nice Dream giving us those bursts of released frustration. Yorke gives us one last hoorah with the nuclear bombs that are Just and My Iron Lung. Sardonically, he thanks critics the success of their most popular single, and the track's symbolic title makes sense - Creep is their crowning glory, their ball and chain, their iron lung. And the closer, Street Spirit...well, what is there to even say? Hauntingly, devestating, gorgeous, with the swelling instrumentals and layered vocals drowning you in its despair. The way The Bends ends is not with a bang, but a whisper. I may not be able to be objective about this but I'd say this album is one of the reasons Radiohead will be cemented in musical legend for all time, and insanely enough, it's not the only time they would go on to revolutionize rock.

c is for: channel orange

Oh Frank...a pattern is emerging in which I give albums I personally like 10s accross the board. But that's kind of the point, I don't want to write about albums I don't like. I was around 14 when this album came out. I don't think it's exaggerating to say, alongside FKA Twigz's Two Weeks, this revolutionized mainstream music and broke black artists out of the confines of being restrained by the RNB label. Thinking of You is an ambitious start (since Start is not TECHNICALLY a song). Ocean has a lot to live up to, and does he ever, because after Fertilizer, you get Sierra Leone, my pesonal favorite track. However, if you asked me to define the song that officially put Ocean on par with giants of his field, then it would have to be Pyramids, It's always a gamble when artists release lengthy songs (over 5 mins), but it's the right move here. Pyramids is truly two fully formed and mature songs bonded together. They can be enjoyed separately, but the story they tell inextricably links them together. Pyramids tells you that Ocean can make a dance track and he can make a bump track, and he could have made the entire album sound that way. Yet, he graces us with a variety of beats and colloabs - Earl Sweatshirt, Andre 3000, and John Mayer on one album is truly something to behold. Bad Religion -> Pink Matter -> Forrest Gump is a glorious track run. Ocean's grappple with spirituality and sexuality flawlessly melts and flows from between these tracks before culiminating in the sweet, cheeky love letter to Tom Hanks. And speaking of spirituality and sexuality, that really is what channel orange is. Ocean, a quiet man, gives every thing he means to say through Channel Orange, and I think he speaks at a perfect volume.

D is for: doolittle

Whores in your head, tattooed tits, Chien Andalusia, monkeys going to heaven. The Pixies hold the reigning title for coolest bald frontman around. Distressed jeans, converse, and greasy hair owe themeslves to Doolittle. Hard to believe, since this album does not sound like it was made in 1989. You could have told me some Cage The Elephant-adjacent (There Goes My Gun seriously could have been extracted and slipped into Melophobia) group of guys made this in their garage last week, and I would believe you. And that's what iconic music does, it withstands the test of time, refusing to date itself. When you hear Doolittle, you can't help but hear it in Nirvana (Cobain confirms this), in Smashing Pumpkins, and even in the one of the newer buzzy indie bands emerging, Geese, right down to the cooler-than-life female guitarist. It helps to break down what it is we're hearing. After all, the album's formula is simple enough. Well, Black Francis plays a lot with his vocals, weaving in and out of conversing, whispering, singing, and shouting. The range of rasping and then screaming at us in the thrasher Tame, and raising up to a high falsetto in folky Silver adds the experimental flair that elevates this from a simple 40-minute jam session. You want to thrash around (Dead, Tame, my personal favorite track, Crackity Jones), bob your head (There Goes My Gun, Hey, Gouge Away), and do some fancy footwork (Here Comes Your Band) to this music, which really leans into the homemade garage sound later bands honed in on. I think sometimes it's hard to substantiate a body of work's impact because, unless you were alive to witness otherwise, it's easy to look at mainly at music solely through the lens of streaming. But besides The Pixies, the Beastie Boys and The Cure were the biggest "alternative" commercial successes against a backdrop of the likes of Madonna's Like a Prayer and Janet Jackson's Rhythym Nation. Doolittle ends like it begins, leaving you pent up and ready to kick some trash cans over. Unlike a previous review I did on Radiohead's The Bends, Francis isn't particuarly interested in storytelling. It's gritty, it's dirty, the lyrics are absurd, and it's steps on your neck for 38 minutes 38 seconds straight. You can't help but want more when it's over.

E is for: Either/Or

Finally, an excuse to write about Elliott Smith. Funnily, I discovered Bright Eyes before I discovered Smith, and I found the whole tortured whisper-singing bit to be so authentic and groundbreaking until I realized what Oberst was pulling from. In any case, Either/Or itself inherited the crown of folk storytelling with a stripped-back, homegrown production sound from royalty before him, like Paul McCartney, Smith's cited inspiration, and Bob Dylan. Everyone who has leaned into the singer/songwriter, confessional style of writing is trying to hit the mark Smith did effortlessly. He was sickeningly talented, having done all the instruments himself, but his stories were never too grand, nor do they feel pretentious. Somehow his lyrics are both personal and open to interpertation. He lets you try on his poetry, saying: "here, put this on, see how it fits". His humor, sad as it is, is there. "It's pleased to meet you underneath the horse" - is such a lethal, intelligent lyric, a nesting doll in a song who's title is already making a heroin reference. Smith to me has the strongest lyrics of any album reiews up to this point, and I can't help but gush over them. Alameda is quiet but scathing. Whether he speaks to himself or someone he's sized up, he hands down his judgement: "thinking about your friends, how you maintain them in a constant state of suspense for your own protection, over their affection; nobody broke your heart, you broke your own 'cause you can't finish what you start" (the self-interruption on the first chorus is pure brilliance). Between the Bars is probably the poetic giant of Either/Or. The title itself is a triple reference, whether you interpet it as between alcohol bars, between the bars of music, or between prison bars, and he further outdoes himself with one of my favorite lyrics of his, a double entendre: "seeing you there with your hands in the air, waiting finally to be caught". After he promises to keep us still, he gives us a taste of his rage. In the very Heatmiser-esque Picturs of Me, he shares a stark reminder: that we truly do not know him, and by extension any celebrity no matter how much of their soul they seem to bare, and often, at best, we have him completely wrong. Can't help but love how he sniffs with disdain, "everyone's dying just to get the disease". With a cool aloofness, he invites you just to go to the rose parade. His self deprecation touches a deep place (I'll be the only shit that's left behind), and he oscillates between first, second, and third person which adds to amiguity of to and about hwhom he sings. Although Smith sturggled with addiction, somehow his songs bely that. They have a beauty to them, less tortured musings and more cathartic release. It comes through that Smith found great solace in writing. I think Either/Or's legacy is best embodied by the uncomfortableness of Ballad of Big Nothing - he declares you can do whatever you want to, but underscores the futility in that killer chord progression against the sobering point: "it doesn't mean a thing".

The weakest song on the album is Angeles. It's just fine, and thankfully Smith did not use this sound throughout, which certainly he could have done since it's the "easiest" song. When artists face an untimely end, I think it casts a long shadow over their music, but in fact, the endurance of this album and the way it resonates with people even now, especially given major musicians of our time drew inspiration from him (Phoebe Bridgers, Billie Eilish, Mac Miller), is a quiet defiance. Smith vows to escape the harmful parts of himself (Between the Bars, 2:45 AM) and closes out with what might be his most romantic song and one of his most hopeful - the person who stays the morning after, might stay every morning for the rest of your life. What else could be more important?

F is for: First Impressions of Earth

This is my first review that does not have a streak of high points. Some of the Strokes' best work is on FIOE, but so is some of the worst. I say that even as a Strokes mega-fan. The junior album has the grandest sound thus far. The band had firmly planted their feet on the ground and lived up to the buzz they created with Is This It by following up with what I consider to be their greatest work (pre-TNA) and one of the best post-punk albums of all time, Room on Fire. Now, FIOE is like a challenge - do they keep riding the wave of what works, or demonstrate they could try other things? I feel they accomplished a different, elevated sound with First Impressions. They play a good deal with their sound. It was their first album with tracks that had some of the members sit out (Ask Me Anything). They also did some work with key and tempo changes (Vision of Division, 15 Minutes). Julian does quite a bit of voice experimentation as well (Red Light, Fear of Sleep, Evening Sun, Razorblade, are a few examples). You Only Live Once was a cleaned-up answer to Last Nite and Reptilia and proved that the band was not confined to garage rock, while still ringing true to their signature sound. It's a great opening track, and the starter for a fantastic track run - Juicebox is a nasty, filthy baseline; Heart in Cage is all the members' talent on full display; Razorblade is their underrated jewel and a introduction to Casablancas falsetto that he would return often in other projects. Now, as much as I love this album, and I can't be objective about the Strokes because I am a huge fan and have been for years, that does not mean they get off scot-free. Sometimes taking a risk is not the right move, and while I can respect the experimentation, I absolutely loathe Ask Me Anything. Where Killing Lies at least as merit with a cool baseline even though it's not a very high effort track, Ask me Anything is boring, the lyrics lack substance, it's strange where it sits in the track listing, and it does not even have merit as a filler song. Likewise, even though 15 Minutes has some pomp, it's just a bad song, I'm sorry. Thankfully, they redeem themselves with the closing three tracks. I love when Albert Hammond does guitar solos, and like in Vision of Division, his tight, janmetallic guitar solo in Ize of the World is a good demonstration of why two guitar players work so well for the band. Evening Sun proves they can do pulled back and still keep your interest - "I love you more than being seventeen" will live rent-free in my head for all eternity. But their closing track is truly a Strokes song that live in my heart. It is such an underrated gem, although, if you can't tell, I am a sucker for love songs. The ending is such a hopeful end, and I wonder if Julian was talking as much to himself as everyone else: "the sky is not the limit and you're never gonna guess what is".

g is for: Get rich Or die trying

Before there was "Not Like Us", there was "Not Like Me". This is the first album I would consider outside my comfort range. Now, I say this completely free of criticism. Sometimes, when you point out oyou don't listen to a certain genre of music, people immediately think you're making a statement. Mostly, I feel like a fraud listenign to the album. This is a narration of life. "The DA can play ths in court" he taunts in "Heat". Regardless of my unfamiliarity with the genre itself, very few can say they don't recognize the explosive debut album that had the major impact of crossing gangsta rap into mainstream. Biggie and Pac were the hearts and soul, but Get Rich is different in that everyone...literally just about everyone, whether they were rap fans or not, has heard something off this album, if only the iconic addition of the "G-G-G-G UNIT" ad lib. There are so many references to "Go shorty, it's your birthday" (In Da Club, which I consdier to be a top 10, maybe a top 3, most iconic rap song of all time). And to be sure, six-year-old me was singing every hit single with as much braggadocio as the rapper himself. I'd almost consider it gangsta album in disguise. Take Like My Style, for instance. The hook is catchy and the production, courtesy of Dr. Dre, is infectious. It's hard to believe that within, he describes selling drugs, adultery, and stabbing, among other things. Then, at complete random, you have 21 Questions plopped there like a diamond in the rough, a song added to the album despite Dr. Dre's admonition against it. It was a good thing he ignored the warning, because it is one of his most iconic songs. It's a surprising side of 50, proof he could also take a softer tone even in a larger than life studio album where he describes the people who want him dead (Many Men).

Lastly, this is the first album where I hae to speak to the power of production choices. What makes Get Rich so accesible is the geniuses of sound mixing who worked on it, whether it's the firing beat on Don't Push Me, the heart monitor and heavy breathing on Eminem's introdcution into Patiently Waiting, or the click of the revolver (I don't know guns, I don't know if it's a revolver, that's no business of mine) on Heat that makes you nod along, if you strip all the vocals, what the album is able to do with sound is a feat unto itself. So, give Get Rich or Die Tryin a listen if you haven't. When you reailze what a king of his time this made 50, especially considering he also survived being shot nine times (touched on in Many Men) the depths he goes to hate on his opps today makes much more sense.

h is for: Her and All My Friends

Sometimes objectivity is colored by nostalgia. I listen to this album still, even though I can now feel its juvenile twinge, having now lived those experiences I cowered from at nineteen, whereupon I hid in the solace of this album. Don't let the artist's name (which he says he regrests picking) put you off. HAMF tells a story, both personal and universal. He pulls from themes that are especially poignant at the tender age where you have a whole year of adulthood under your belt but you don't know really what to do with it all. Love and loss are the most prevailing. There is some beautiful word work in here ("I'm asking you gently, why her and all my friends left me/now they're just emails I don't read"), but at the risk of quoting the entire album verbatim, I would say they are most poignant in Command V (my personal favorite song), Lew's Lullaby, Wormwood, and Something, in General, and Pollution/Disclaimer (his most amitious song, in my opinion). What Mitt does with sound is also very interesting throughout - the spoken word of Pollution/Disclaimer, the warbling in Wormwood, the swelling background droning in the latter half of Phoebe, the tempo change in Something, In General, and the cacophony in the closing track, III, make for a rich texture that keeps you from being bored or burnt out if he were to make any of those examples the prevailing sound on every track. I feel a bit of resentment that Ritt's Put Your Records On cover is what launched him into the public eye, because it' doesn't touch the fringe of his talent, but I am also a bit relieved because Her annd All My Friends remains a hidden diamond I'm all too eager to share with anyone who will listen.

i is for: If This Isn't Nice, I Don't Know What Is.  

You know what, this is my first heartbreaking review and I say that because ITINIDKWI is so not an accurate representation of Still Woozy, who is one of my favorite artists. It could be nostalgia talking, but I kept his EPs on repeat. When he finally released his debut album I was over the moon. Now, let's talk about why I ended up feeling like artificial gravity yanked me down and slammed me into the big white cratered rock over and over. Because, it's boring. This album is B-O-R-I-N-G. What Sven can do with sound is mesmerizing. Take a listen to Vacation, Foolsong, or Habit, and you'll hear what I mean. None of that comes through on the album. It sounds like he looked up how to make a song that sounds like Still Woozy, and went with a template or outline. The tracks are so forgettable. Typically, the absurdity works because, as in the case of other songs (take Cooks for instance), the nonsensical lyrics don't get lost into obscurity since the sound is so addicting. Here, however, you can't tell Drake from WTF from All Along if you were just looking at the titles, and it's unfortunate. Woopie almost gets it, the chorus is really nice, but it's so boring in between, I tend to skip past it. Get By doesn't even sound like anything he's ever made before, and not in a good way. Okay, now that I've complained, let me also say this album is not without it's high points. Window and Rocky are really, really good songs, and these were the two he released on their own before the album's debut, which is why you can see why my expectations were high . I would not say That's Life, Get Down, and Kenny are bad, and it's always good for an artist to experiment with their sound, but to me, they just sound very low effort. Listen to his earlier stuff to understand what I mean. So, because this is only one of two albums, I had to write this, not so much as an indictment but more of a defense, to say that there's really good discography from Still Woozy, and to give his other work, especilly the older stuff, a chance.