Fermata over Whole Rest

This is the vulnerable album. Not to imply that Menomena’s been about a whole bunch of macho self-confidence, but there’s a decided difference in how they’ve addressed their topics. “Friend And Foe” was externally directed, almost a collection of fables and attacks in how disconnected they were from introspection. The late album series of “The Pelican,” “Air Aid” & “Weird” is the best example of this; worldly rampage followed by a meditation on the history awaiting this place in time, and closed with a venomous spike at an anonymous antagonist. It’s “Weird,” though, that was able to give a bit more perspective on what was coming from Mines: there’s a decided self-depreciating side to it, where it’s admitted that it could just be him feeling inadequate.

Mines is very much about inadequacy and the struggle against it. Opener “Queen Black Acid” is an abused relationship hymn, complete with the disconnect with life after it finally comes to a close. Brilliantly, it’s followed by “TAOS,” which is the closest thing to swagger that such a band could ever achieve. It’s self-depreciating but in a charming way, bold and playful while subtly desperate.

It’s really tempting for me to just gush about what every song on this album is, and how brutally open all of these songs get, but that’s just rude, so I’ll pick one more to spend time on: “BOTE.” It’s likely my favorite song on the album, as it’s a great display of the album’s character arc, for lack of a more appropriate term. After whatever crushing event precluded the album, the songwriter seem to be growing stronger and stronger. A confrontation with the seas that caused such dread earlier are now met with full attention, and fought with everything he’s got. The catastrophic storm overtakes him, but at least not peacefully this time.

The reason that I’m not talking about the actual instrumentation to go with these songs is because they are so well paired with their lyrics that it’s almost redundant. At no point in the album does the music clash with what the singer is trying to say, and similarly do the vocals not overshadow the actual music. It’s a unified front, like a… a band, or something.

Huh.

WINNER: “Mines” by Menomena

WHY: It’s as much worldbuilding as music.

I think any good movement adopts a song to go with it, and I’m thinking of starting a movement. An anti-retro movement.

Earlier this week, in conversation with a friend over Pere Ubu and how fucking great they are, this friend expressed surprise that I listened to anything that came out before I was born. Thought-provoking. I’ve amassed a decent amount of music from the 40s on, but it’s apparently odd to consider the thought of me listening to anything old. Well, I know exactly why that is; it’s because I only recommend newer music, and because I actively shit on music that tries to act like old 70s jams.

What I want to talk about today is the start of anti-retro, and the retro song we’re going to use to shit on the Black Keys of the world, who have taken their wanking material and shown it to earth like they’re so proud of what they can do. All the Black Keys comes down to is an old cummy rag taken with a digital camera, and they’re not the only act rushing to photobucket with the slick socks they grabbed from their dad’s dresser. Something has to be done.

Captain Beefheart is one of those figures that these shitheads claim to like, understand, want to emulate, et cetera. The reality of the situation is that they say that to try and convince themselves that his desert breakdowns have relevance to them in the year 2010. They don’t. However timeless the music may seem, it’s ultimately rooted in that origin, and it’s aging more and more every day.

The issue I have is not the act of listening to old music. It does have what it has to say, and there are certainly little points of interest. Where we start pissing me the fuck off is when you don’t take a look around in the world you live in and just go deeper and deeper into this old cult. Here’s reality: If music is a living thing, that music is dead. It’s had a good life and it’d probably be happy to know they were remembered, but they can’t know, because they’re fucking dead, and the fucking dead’s time has passed.

So I say we repurpose “The Smithsonian Institute Blues” as a fucking bile-filled shout at these “old is new” doofuses. It’s a caveman stomp that sounds like the shit they wish they were making. Now their only connection to that music are museums and archives of music. It’s not happening. They can dig through old record after old record, but the fact remains that it’s dead music, old bones they’re dragging up. So if you see someone you know digging up some bone and their gym sock, swat both down and tell them that it’s just fucking old bones and they should really look around the world they’re in right now.

WINNER: John

WHY: Because 2010 is the year you are alive in, not 1970.

disclaimer: Jon Spencer Blues Explosion is off the hook.

Let’s talk about albums as a whole for a second. Talk about what an album implies to me, just so we can establish a common vocabulary and an understanding of what I mean when I say album. Music is alive, I believe. Music is a living, breathing thing. An album can represent any living being and can transform along with you as time passes. It would be easy, then, to understand an album as a person, and a song as a conversation. It’s a helpful way for me to understand music.

Here’s my point: if albums are people, then one can have relationships with albums. Maybe not in depth relationships with every album you ever hear, but there are certainly some that are going to have long lasting effects on each other. The first two Pere Ubu albums are two of my closer friends, and they’ve been mentors for me. “Dub Housing,” the second one, is a thickskinned old soul, is a free thing as much as it can be without losing all semblance of sanity, and is the host to ten of the most interesting conversations I’ve ever had.

The album actually reminds me of an old high school friend in that way. Earth happened around them, and they just chose to take the bits and pieces of it that they were interested in. “Dub Housing” is a collage of a cityscape glued to a proud alley cat. Certainly aware of how pop is supposed to work, how the world is supposed to work, but disinterested in favor of it’s own little continuum.

It’s an album that could resonate very powerfully these days, given the exclusive tendencies of referential humor and in jokes, of self-constructed worlds. What Pere Ubu built here is a fearsome act of western individualism built with second hand tools and no manual.

WINNER: “Dub Housing” by Pere Ubu

WHY: Timeless, hostile, and otherworldly in the ways rock ought be. Have “On The Surface,” but know that the album is a snake pit that’ll get stranger further inside.

Oh yeah we do individual song reviews. No I didn’t just decide this. Shut up.

This is usually the answer I’d give to any sorts of goofy questions like “what’s the best song of the decade” or “what’s your favorite song,” or even “if you were a wrestler, what would your theme song be.” Well, this or “S.O.S.” by Lightning Bolt. Anyways, the point is that it’s probably my favorite song.

When I bought “Shine A Light,” I went in having only heard this song, and was initially really disappointed. I had listened to this song basically nonstop, and was completely in love with it. I was too young to understand the power it had, but I could see the demonstration of that power, and I felt like I had to own it. Eating a man to gain his powers and such.

Of things that have not changed as I’ve aged, the power this song holds over me is one of them. It’s hard for me to listen to it and not drop everything I’m doing, and not convulse as it courses through me, and not burst into howls along with Bry Webb. It’s hard not to surrender.

The song itself is everything I love about art rock or whatever you want to call this. There’s more than power chords because the song is worth more than that, and the intricacy of the song is meant to fit in with the power the song has over the songwriters. I wonder if they knew how incredible this song is when they were starting to put pieces of it together, because every part of it is perfect. It’s beautiful in the same way films of predators are, and brutal like the empty streets of modern cities. The savage build, short release, and return to the cacophony of pure goddamn rock music is lifelike in a way only a song can be. This song makes me want to fuck something in half and scream through glass, and all of the other feats rock and roll should make you want to do.

So I guess the song is okay.

WINNER: “Nighttime/Anytime (It’s Alright)”

WHY: It’s perfect to my aesthetic.