Saturday, March 30, 2013

Song Spotlight: "Three Seed" by Silversun Pickups


            Every record hides within itself some treasure in the form of a song that really reaches the listener’s core. It’s a tune that makes a person transcend their existence for a moment, placing them in a completely new plane of emotion and connection. During my freshman year of college, I was driving down an obscenely long and dark back road in a nowhere town, giving Silversun Pickups’ Carnavas a chance when I first heard the song “Three Seed.” I was so floored by the melancholic beauty of the tune that I listened to it on repeat for the rest of the forty-minute drive home.

            Musically, “Three Seed” is a relatively simple song, whose beauty is built into that simplicity. Chris Guanlao’s cymbals are as rhythmic as a ticking clock, creating a metronomic feel that helps to accent his snare and bass hits. Nikki Monninger’s bass line is neither pounding nor punchy, instead creating a gentle rhythm like ocean waves against the shore, staying in the same place and yet always moving the world of the song along. The keys fill out the song with subtlety rather than with force, providing a washed background that we know is there and yet we are barely able to see. While these three provide a backdrop, Brian Aubert’s vocal and guitar are the accented strokes that complete the picture. Everything in the song has been stripped down to the most essential, making each part meaningful in its selection and deployment.
            The use of negative space in “Three Seed” is something that greatly endears it to me. The vibe of the song is somewhat melancholic and empty, which the arrangement fully reflects. Brian’s vocals and guitar parts are extremely spaced out in the song; indeed, there is almost a full minute of music before the guitar appears. Brian’s parts are the forefront of the tune, but he regularly backs off from them to showcase the background that the rest of band has worked so hard to create. Even when he does come in, Brian always handles these entries with complete ease and grace, guiding the guitar without attacking it.
            While the music is straightforward and unadorned in its approach, lyrically the song is enigmatic. Brain showcases his poetic abilities in this song, his words working to paint subtle but meaningful images, such as in the lines “Cool like the ocean / Burned like a summer home.”[1] The lyrics, while sparse in some areas, are written in such a way that they allow for virtually endless interpretation. In an interview with Mike Rothman, Brian commented on the ambiguity of the song, saying “it is about repeating patterns and having three completely different situations that as obtuse as they were from each other…almost shared a singular path.”[2] Indeed, the amount of themes and inspirations that fans have discovered in the lyrics seems almost endless, including subjects such as drug addiction, divorce, suicide, and California’s Three Strikes law.[3] Such ambiguity allows for complete and varying participation from the listener, allowing each person to take away unique perspectives from the same song. With each listen, the song, lyrically and musically, can evolve into something totally different without losing any of its truth.

            “Three Seed” is in itself an ocean of a song, simple above and complex below, filled with endless change, hiding innumerable truths and complexities in a gentle and rhythmic current. With each listen, there is some new discovery, some new reason to return, to spin it over and over again on a winding black night, worthy of a thousand listens. But more important than all of that is the simple truth that it is a damn great tune, and one that I highly recommend.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Lagwagon - Hoss



            Evolution has always been a mover of music, as sounds and styles merge and separate into new strains of sound. In the 1990’s, punk rock was pioneering that evolutionary path, relaxing from the heaviness of hardcore while avoiding the muddy sounds of grunge. Spearheading this synthesis of pop and punk was the band Lagwagon, who, with their third full length Hoss, solidified a sound that would go on to inspire countless other bands.
            Recently rereleased as part of the box set Putting Music in its Place,[1] Hoss is considered to be a pivotal album in the development of Lagwagon, especially by its members. In a 2011 interview with Dying Scene, former Lagwagon guitarist Shawn Dewey stated “Hoss has just always had a special place for me. It seemed like we finally came into our own, developing our own sound,”[2] while former bassist Jesse Buglione claims that it was written during “a very prolific period.”[3] As one spins this record, it is easy to see these claims are not far from the truth.
            Hoss is a record so full of energy it seems about to burst. Virtually every song is fast and hard from end to end, and this band tears through them all, never faltering from their established and signature style of distorted guitars and fast, slash-beat drums. Their music is true to the label of punk that so many pin on them, so much so that at times they risk sounding monotonous. However, any redundancy is easily defeated by the composition of the music. Although the entire album is in a 4/4 time signature, songs such as “Bombs Away” or “Sick” feature riffs and progressions are phrased over six measures, providing a 12/8 feel that is fresh against the onslaught of common time, and creating musical moments for the listener to latch onto.

            Lagwagon further adds variety and excitement to their songs with a plethora of syncopated riffs and hits, affectations that rely on the percussion to truly solidify them. Through moments such as these, Hoss acts as a celebration of the musical mastery of the late Derrick Plourde, who played drums on the album. Having left the band shortly after the release of the record,[4] Derrick’s last act as a part of Lagwagon is anything but lackluster. In many places, his drumming seems to be the main feature of the record, as he makes himself known in every composition. From the opening insanity of “Rifle” to his triplet syncopations in “Name Dropping,” Derrick destroys his drum kit over the course of the record, playing at speeds that would set off a radar gun while effortlessly controlling both tempo and rhythm. His contribution shows the powerful and interesting benefits a well-written part can provide for a song, as well as those provided only by an extremely solid rhythm section.

            If the musical writing on the record provides an intricate foundation, the lyrics act as the detailed nuances that define it as a masterpiece. Joey Cape proves himself as a dynamic and powerful writer with Hoss, as he tackles many heavy subjects, but always with a stylized humor and offhandedness. For instance, in “Black Eyes,” Joey presents a brutally vivid image of a person lacking faith and attitude, only to have that image pinned upon himself at the very end. Joey’s ability to switch voices and attitudes is also stressed in the writing of this record. In “Razor Burn,” Joey humorously details his coping with a break-up by growing a “beard of shame,” while in “Ride the Snake,” all mirth is abandoned as he addresses the subject of heroin abuse. The range of both subject matter and the way each is addressed in the writing makes Hoss a record worth a read as well as a listen.[5]
            A phenomenal example of Joey’s writing abilities is the song “Kids Don’t Like to Share,” the opening track of the album. Laid out over an elegant and energetic tune, Joey addresses the fickle crowds that he performs in front of every night. He straightforwardly confronts those fans who think themselves better than others because of the music they listen to, and challenges the pompous and pretentious way they elevate their chosen god, only to “dethrone” the king when he becomes too popular. He compares their idols to fool’s gold “flashing in the pan,” his surprise and sigust quite evident at the notion of something seeming so valuable one moment and so worthless the next. With “Kids Don’t like to Share,” Lagwagon’s attack on “the hipster” is one that remains both solid and valid over fifteen years later, asserting itself as a fun tune with a relevant message.[6]

            Hoss is an unyielding record, with great songs and great energy in every corner. The only place it seems to suffer is in the mix, where the two guitars take center stage over the vocals, and the bass is occasionally left in the mud—an issue that, all things considered, never approaches being a big deal. Hoss It is a record that acts more like a discussion than a presentation, encouraging the listener to think, to feel, and to dance, all with an unbridled enthusiasm for life. With Hoss, Lagwagon has opened the doors of the punk genre to a new attitude and a new generation, both of which continue to shape the evolutionary path of music.

Tunes to Check Out:
1) Kids Don't Like to Share
2) Sleep
3) Black Eyes