Tier 1: Part 3 (4-1)
Let me preface this by revealing by predispositions regarding Radiohead: 1) one of my fondest and earliest memories in which I recall enjoying music, involved hearing “Creep” on the radio in 1993, or thereabout, as a young kid, traveling in a car around dusk with my father. We were just outside of Merrillville, Indiana, and after hearing the song on the radio, I had fallen in love. I remember feeling so compelled to sing along, despite not really knowing the lyrics. Eventually, my father noticed me singing, “I’m a creep/I’m a wiener," laughed for a while and lovingly corrected me; 2) both OK Computer, along with Kid A marked formative progressions in the development of my own personal interest and passion for music. All of this aside, I don’t think I’m all that uncommon. I give these examples to demonstrate the cultural impact the band has had on my generation; I believe we are the “Radiohead Generation” in some sense. From a time when music was interesting on the radio to their electronic-pop experimentation, Radiohead has had an incommensurable influence in its fourteen years of existence and seven LPs released. It’s no surprise then, that Radiohead do carry a natural imperviousness to much negative criticism. Everyone expected this album to be Radiohead's jump into the deep end. And as soon as I heard the release date announced so nonchalantly, I began to wonder: what will happen if this albums is terrible? I quickly began seeing myself quickly becoming as alienated those Ryan Adams devotees (you know if you're one), hopelessly buying records and fighting tooth and nail (or turning my nose upwards) to defend the band's artistic credentials.
Completely conscious of my own potential fantacism, I believe In Rainbows is an outstanding album that rivals most of the best albums put out this year, and ranks highly among their own work (right now, I’d say third best). If it ranks below OK and Kid A, it does so just barely. Just as Liars, another one of my favorite acts, Radiohead has finally taken a pragmatic approach to music making and has dropped their outsized, weighty rhetorical and conceptual devices. I believe, even more so than Liars, this conceit comes at a much-needed time for the evolution of the band. Unlike Hail to the Thief, Radiohead has found more modest and inspired modes to pursue their own musical complexities. With more guitar and real drums, standout tracks such as “Reckoner,” “Nude,” and “Bodysnatchers” show the same Radiohead with a reborn curiosity for rock and roll. Above all, I think the quality of this album speaks just as loudly as their inventive pay-what-you-want marketing approach. (Call me a tool but) I paid $9 for this album, and have no regrets. What more can I say? Don't hate the player. Hate the game.
It was just two Januarys past that I knew that Drum’s Not Dead, Destroyer's Rubies and (what would later be called) Return to Cookie Mountain would rank high on my year-end list. This January, I had a feeling Person Pitch was going to be a favorite for my top 5 of 2007. As you all know, it wasn't a hard shot to call. Noah Lennox, aka Panda Bear from Animal Collective, has released a true masterpiece. Put frankly, Panda Bear has made his nod to Brian Wilson (could I write anything about this album without namedropping him?) and moved far beyond the campfire elegies of Young Prayer, and rechanneled distortion as a tool of violence (oft deployed by Animal Collective) into aural bliss in order create a personal experience for the listener (just as with my #2 album, you should hear this album on a good pair of headphones). And like Cryptograms (but with much different effects), the songs of Person Pitch stand a bit inelegantly when left alone, however in full continuity the album delivers pure aural perfection.
I’ll spare you and myself any attempts to form any original opinions (just listen to the album or google it), however, here are some other brief things that immediately come to mind when think about Person Pitch:
- Panda Bear's exploration of the sublime; the dissolution of time and space (on an equal scale see Field below, on a lesser scale see Pantha du Prince, and Efdemin above)
- Quality of Noah Lennox's harmonies and samples (hear the tribal drum solos of "Good Girl/Carrots" as they perfectly saunter into what sounds like a long-lost late '50s pop song; no one beats the samples found on Person Pitch this year)
- Panda Bear’s “meta-pop” approach (songs inside of songs inside of songs—more akin to Bebop) juxtaposed to Animal Collective’s seemingly “anti-listener” pop approach (see above).
As I’ve been collecting my thoughts about some of the (quite incredible) albums of 2007, I made the mistake of stumbling upon Zolbourg’s year-end list. I was pleasantly surprised to find a top 10 very close to my own. Besides Cryptograms (do I have any friends that enjoyed Deerhunter as much as I this year?), I’ve been really surprised to see From Here We Go to Sublime so far from the top of many lists of my peers. The Field, for me, has been a clear-cut winner (just as transparent as Person Pitch) for making the top two or three of my own year-end list.
From Here We Go to Sublime is the pinnacle of Kompakt’s monumental achievements this year. Just as Dan has began to describe, Axel Willner crafts a sort of never-ending state of a waking dream; combining minimalist dance music and repetitive ambience, The Field maintains constant 4/4, and creates a feeling of what pop-Trance could be (like what low-brow Tiësto or ATB may sound like if they listened to music outside of their-own vain and excessive Global Underground scene). His samples, with delicate melodic snippets and stutters of vocals, guitar and bass, are delicately laced into large expanses of pure rhythm. If it sounds like a skipping record over kickdrums, you’re not listening closely enough; the Field has created one of the most exciting electronic albums in years (this album is better than any other Kompakt release this year, and just as good as, if not better than one of my favorites, Vocalcity). Just as my favorite album of 2007, Untrue, I believe Willner provides a larger almost anagogic, reading of the current state of electronic music (if not music generally) by sampling the most nominal song fragments. Willner takes these petty bits and slivers and adroitly appropriates them into beautiful and expansive textures. Like Boratto, Willner is a master craftsman of rhythm, using every clip eruditely; every track, from the opening track featuring the sample of Kate Bush blissfully cut and chopped in “Over the Ice” to the closing title track, The Field, as the name of his album is so aptly describes, carries us through the Sublime.
Expect to read a much closer analysis of the FHWGtS from me in the upcoming weeks. I have listened to this album most consistently over the past year. This album, without doubt, would have been my number #1, if it weren't for...
It’s quite funny how “sonic hauntology” has sneaked into most of my friends descriptions of Untrue. As I’ve been discussing with Kyle, there are many aspects of Spectres of Marx that could lend itself (almost too easily) to a discussion of this album; the problem of Amy’s analysis, however, was her superficial application of Derrida's "hauntology" to Burial’s aesthetic (Untrue does sound like an apparition with the soul of Nina Simone singing through a machine). I am sure Amy from Shake Your Fist was just working out some thoughts, however, she seemed to miss many key aspects of Spectres that seem to have much deeper resonance with Burial: 1) the impact of the “speed” of technology (as applied to music, of course), and 2) Derrida’s concept of l’avenir—that “messianism without the messiah”. Burial, in Untrue, captures a sort of Heidegerrian prudence towards technology, carefully seeking hope among those ghastly voices, disembodied from the forgotten top 40s and club hits of yesteryears.
This is all expressly conveyed from the beginning in the first real track “Archangel”; from the closing minute of the song, Burial’s incorporeal voice calls out, “"If I trust you..." and there isn't a response or silence. Above all, Burial’s assemblage of salvaged and repitched soul, r&b, and dance (done so, of course in UKG-styling), refuses to completely damn (or ensure salvation for) the listener. From the beginning two-step shuffles of “Archangel” to the mid-pitch/gender bending vocal of “Etched Headplate” to the pop enjoyment of “Homeless” to the album’s finale in “Raver,” Burial uses future technology and sound, in the present to long and mourn for a lost time (of the past and future). (Again, where was Amy’s actual discussion of Derridean “non-linear” perceptions of time?)
These engaging issues coupled with brilliant songcraft, have made Untrue the near-only thing I’ve been listening to for the past two and a half months. Untrue has somehow surpassed the introspective solemnity of Burial's self-titled debut. Please look for a more nuanced elaboration of this in the weeks to come.
Above all, if you found Untrue as great as I did, please get your ears around some other major dubstep releases of the year, in particular the two-disc Underwater Dancehall by Pinch or Glyphic by Boxcutter. Although these albums may not carry the profound humanly affect of Untrue, these albums, like Burial, reveal a hopeful time for electronic
music.
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