Sunday, September 13, 2015

Modest Mouse - Strangers to Ourselves




            In my teen years, Modest Mouse was a name I recognized, but other than the occasional radio tidbit of “Float On,” their music never really made its way to me. It is only in the past year that I started exploring their catalogue, and only then after the incessant and insistent recommendations of two of my bandmates. At first, their eclectic sound palate was too much for me to stomach, but soon I couldn’t get enough of the eccentricity with which they approached their art. A few months ago, I began spinning Strangers to Ourselves, their newest full-length, and while its fifteen completely unique songs come as no surprise, I am still reeling from how cohesively those songs fit together as a whole.
            It is a feat in itself to include fifteen fully-explored tracks on an album, but in Strangers to Ourselves, Modest Mouse collects an amazingly diverse palate of sounds and shapes them through the machine of their musicianship. Although most of the compositions are structured around Isaac Brock’s distinctive guitar melodies, their driving force comes from the fluid drumming of Jeremiah Green; his shuffling dance groove moves the lead single “Lampshades on Fire,”[1] while his crashing cymbals coalesce effortlessly with the screaming guitar lead in “Be Brave.” And while Isaac’s guitar snaps loud and proud in tracks like “Shit in Your Cut” or “Ansel,” just as often he shares that treble space with keyboards and textures, even blending the two timbres into one melodic image for the album’s eponymous opener.


            With their plethora of exotic instruments, Modest Mouse works hard to make each song on Strangers to Ourselves a unique listening experience. As Isaac puts it, “one thing that we consistently do is inconsistently write types of songs. There’s no one way about it for us.”[2] Every tune is approached from a different angle or with a different energy: “Coyotes” rocks a gentle acoustic feel, “Wicked Campaign” is loaded with humming guitar and reverby vocals, and “Sugar Boats” rollicks about on a manic gypsy piano riff. The groaning dance of “Pistol” is entirely inane on first listen, but the maddening dark vocals and wretching guitar coda paint a schizoid picture that epitomizes the lyrical perspective of serial killer Andrew Cunanan.[3] The band is fearless in their sonic endeavors, using every resource available to create exclusive atmospheres for each tune.
            Modest Mouse’s willingness to wander between genres while remaining catchy is admirable, a quality owed in no small part to Isaac’s ear-grabbing hooks. While almost every tune on Strangers to Ourselves features some aspect of pop sensibility, no track works that sensibility harder than “The Ground Walks, with Time in a Box.” With this tune, Modest Mouse takes all the tropes of popular music and puts them to the test: the song grooves on for over 6 minutes (twice as long as the most daring Top 40 tune), and while they maintain a danceable beat for most of that time, the band can’t resist devolving into pure noise for a few bars in the bridge.


Even Isaac’s endearing and fun vocal melody, which is practically married to his guitar, is a vehicle used to put all of humanity in its place as a group of bad party guests on a beautiful planet.[4] By twisting all the right ingredients, “The Ground Walks, with Time in a Box” defies the very conventions it is built around, reinforcing Isaac’s statement that, despite their regular forays into ear-friendly music, “we’re not a pop band. I’m not sure what kind of band we are, and I like it that way.”[5]
            From an instrumental perspective, Strangers to Ourselves is truly all over the place, ranging from soft to loud, scream to whisper, and everywhere in between. But in spite of their disconnect in sound, these fifteen tracks are unified by dominant and thorough lyrical themes. With the exception of perhaps two tracks, the record explores some aspect of humanity’s relationship with the planet, specifically our abuse of it. Isaac constantly refers to humans as “strangers” or “tourists,” even bluntly naming us as “giant ol’ monsters” who behave “like some serial killers” in “Coyotes.”[6] In “Pups to Dust,” he asserts our dissociation with the line “We don’t belong here, we were just born here,” and explores our proclivity to skew our self-image: “The way we feel about what we do is by who has watched us.”[7] Even with the very title of the record, Isaac uses his writing to brutally pull back the curtain on our true nature, forcing us to account for our very presence in this world.  


            One song that heavily explores this theme of estrangement from our own home is “TheTortoise and the Tourist.” Amid crunching bass and a squealing guitar drenched in warm reverb, Isaac regales the parable of an eternal tortoise with a shell “covered in jewels” that knew “the world through all its histories / and the universe and its mysteries.” When the tortoise meets a man and offers him infinite wisdom, the human instead slaughters the tortoise before walking off “with a song on his lips,” the jeweled shell secure under his arm. Isaac’s tale in no uncertain terms highlights the greed and ignorance of man, who wanders through his life blissfully unaware of the destruction left in his wake, treating this life like a trivial vacation when in fact this is all he has. With “The Tortoise and the Tourist,” Modest Mouse takes on the role of an elder spinning a dark fairy tale, in hopes that the moral of the narrative will leave its mark on future generations.


            With its multifaceted instrumentation and deep lyrical themes, it is hardly a surprise that Strangers to Ourselves took so long to see completion. Aside from having to fund the endeavor themselves, apparently it took Modest Mouse three tries to get the recording sessions off the ground, with most of their two previous attempts (one including Krist Novoselic on bass, and the other featuring production from Outkast’s Big Boi) being scrapped or shelved.[8] On top of that, the band went through four producers total during the recording process, and also spent considerable time trying to find a replacement for former bassist Eric Judy, whose duties were ultimately split among members Russel Higbee, Tom Peloso, and Lisa Molinaro.[9] [10]
            But as one spin will tell you, Strangers to Ourselves is a record well-worth the wait. Amid its eclectic sounds and wavering tempos, this record is stuffed with the heartfelt intention of a group of musicians who, despite missteps and lineup changes, continue to amaze and innovate with their music. Modest Mouse affixes keen writing to a plethora of sonic arrangements and ideas, giving their fans new and old a listening experience that is original, honest, and most importantly, a ton of fun. Strangers to Ourselves is an odyssey of sentiment and song in itself, but also a sign of things to come from this act, and I for one am beyond excited to follow their journey. 

Tunes to Check Out:
1) The Tortoise and the Tourist
2) Pups to Dust
3) The Ground Walks, with Time in a Box





Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Song Spotlight: "Somebody's Been Sleeping" by 100 Proof (Aged in Soul)



            Over the years, I have established certain musical traditions in my life, rituals that I for the most part have kept alive simply because they bring their own joy and significance to my day. Every Thanksgiving I dip my ears into the insanity of Alro Guthrie’s “Alice’s Restaurant,” and I make a point to spin “May 16th” by Lagwagon when that date arrives, if for no more reason than it just seems appropriate to me. These traditions were instituted in my life by me and for me, giving me small musical patterns on which I can rely.
            Unfortunately, one such tradition, that of tuning in weekly to the program Little Steven’s Underground Garage, has in recent years become harder for me to perform. I used to be an avid listener, letting his program carry me along my commute to my awful food service job. Little Steven’s insightful thematic episodes opened my mind to the inner connections and stories of songs I loved, while also introducing me to new artists and styles of music that have clung to me since. One such song, perhaps my favorite find from the program, is the soul anthem “Somebody’s Been Sleeping” by 100 Proof (Aged in Soul), which has been bouncing around in my head since I first heard it years ago.
            With a jangling guitar riff and a full but fluid horn section, the four minutes of “Somebody’s Been Sleeping” are completely stuffed with soul. The song unabashedly pops into existence with an insistent guitar riff, before launching into the main groove defined by pounding piano notes and a jittery bass. The vocal melody soars powerfully above the thumping drum beat, intermixing with backing harmonies and the horn section in deceptive melody as the speaker questions his lover’s loyalty. The extended instrumental bridge practically urges the listener to dance before coalescing back into a triumphant chorus under accusatory shouts of “Somebody’s been sleeping in my bed!”[1]


            The talented instrumentalists in 100 Proof (Aged In Soul) craft a powerful and funky piece of music, but it is in the lyrical content that the song takes off. The major key and heady beat of “Somebody’s Been Sleeping” create an ethereal if not blissful atmosphere furthered by the lyrical references to the fairy tales “Jack and the Bean Stalk” and “Goldilocks.” However, this gentle, unassuming ambiance belies the song’s far more onerous subject matter, in which the speaker directly accuses his lover of cheating.
            In line with the tale of “Goldilocks,” the song’s main character notices things are amiss in his house, discovering first that someone “ate up all [his] food” and left his new pajamas “balled up in a chair.” However, each new discovery begins to become more ominous, and as he finds a broken seal on his “best booze” and the bed “left unmade,” slowly coming to the realization that the “somebody” who’s been sleeping in his bed hasn’t been sleeping alone.[2]
            This song’s composition, the credit for which goes to soul legends Greg Perry, General Johnson, and Angelo Bond,[3] abounds with interesting choices, but none more so than the integration of language from the fairy tales straight into the lyrics. The rhythmic repetition of “somebody’s been” in the chorus invites an intrinsic connection to the tale, putting the listener back in the mindset of their youth, and as such, implying the perspective of a child listening to his parents arguing. Similarly, the choice to have the speaker be the one to mimic the statement “Fe Fi Fo Fum” actually puts the main character in the shoes of the giant Thunderdell, the villain of “Jack and the Beanstalk,” further spinning the perspective of this tale of betrayal.
            The decision to tell a story of adultery through the lenses of innocent children’s stories shows utter brilliance on the part of the song’s writers, weaving a modern fairy tale that is wholly brought to life by the energetic and heartfelt performances of 100 Proof (Aged In Soul). “Somebody’s Been Sleeping” takes two completely antithetical ideas and synthesizes them seamlessly before locking them in with the band’s signature sound. With its soulful melody and infectious chorus, it is no surprise that the song was a huge hit on both R&B and Pop Charts during its heyday.[4]
            “Somebody’s Been Sleeping” is the reason I began listening ritualistically to Little Steven’s Underground Garage, a highlight of otherwise loathsome Sunday mornings working, and hearing it now has me craving more tunes just like it. I have a good feeling I’ll soon be spending my Sunday mornings with my radio again, and after you spin this classic, don’t be surprised to find yourself tuning in as well.

Sunday, August 16, 2015

The Vandals - Hitler Bad, Vandals Good





            It's so easy for me to fall into a pretentious mindset when discussing music, but when I'm being honest, there are few things I enjoy more than a goofy tune that refuses to be taken seriously. While many artists will occasionally shrug off the serious looks long enough to record a silly song or two, very few are as bold as The Vandals, a punk act that continuously composes entire records of humorous music.
            Since I first heard them in my teen years, their lack of gravity provided a wonderful alternative to the hundreds of stuffy and semi-political punk anthems of their peers, and the fact that their songs were popping up in all my favorite video games at the time only drew me in further. When I finally had a chance to pick up Hitler Bad, Vandals Good at age fifteen, I immediately connected with the humor and hectic energy, and though I’m certainly older and allegedly more serious, the lighthearted hilarity still hits just as hard.
            Unlike most records, the very first part of Hitler Bad, Vandals Good that grips my attention is not the musicianship, but rather the record’s inane lyrical content. All four band members share writing duties,[1] yet not one among them seems to take writing seriously, which is a ridiculously refreshing change. While there is an almost universal theme of romantic (and often unrequited) love through the record, each relationship is cast in a unique situation: “Fucked Up Girl” expresses love for a “legally insane” woman who is “losing all [her] faculties,”[2] while “I Know, Huh?” analyzes the awkward intricacies of being in an interracial couple. And while their ideas aren’t always that original (they’ve openly stated how big of an inspiration TV is in their writing)[3], such silliness is guaranteed to bring a smile to even the most grumpy listener’s face.


            The Vandals’ humor on Hitler Bad, Vandals Good strays into darker territory as well. “Too Much Drama,” co-written by The Offspring’s Dexter Holland,[4] humorously tackles the topic of absent parents, while “People That Are Going to Hell” very casually references scumbags who “beat their wives / or pull out a knife and stab a person or two or three.”[5] Even love takes a dark turn in “My Girlfriend’s Dead,” a song characterized by a broken-hearted man who avoids discussing how he was dumped, instead “tell[ing] them all she’s dead” because he “likes the sympathy” it garners.[6] Without shying from the inherent depravity of their material, The Vandals manage to spin even the darkest parts of humanity into carefree song.
            Hitler Bad, Vandals Good is a laugh from start to finish, but for me, no song is more ridiculous than “I’ve Got An Ape Drape,” the band’s infamous ode to an awful haircut. With a frenzied chord progression that hugs the melody and a gang-vocal chorus, this tune celebrates all that is wrong about the mullet. With almost childlike innocence, Dave Quackenbash demands that his hairdresser “make it short in front and long in back” like “that dude I saw last night on Jerry Springer,” before ultimately requesting that his son get the same horrid haircut, a decision that apparently qualifies as “bonding with your dad.” The song even includes an off-hand reference to Billy Ray Cyrus, whom the band holds responsible for perpetuating what they have coined “Achey Breaky Hair.”[7] With its repetitive chorus and triumphant satire, “I’ve Got An Ape-Drape” presents a sidesplitting homage to a horrible idea that is far from disappearing, and worst of all, “they’re giving them to anyone, and that means you!”[8]


            In sharp contrast to the amusing and off-hand lyrics, the musicianship on Hitler Bad, Vandals Good is both tightly-knit and complex, perhaps because the band felt that room to “musically…stretch out a bit” on this record.[9] Drummer Josh Freese rips through slash-beats in virtually every song, yet somehow manages to squeeze effortless fills and rolls among his madness. In a similar vein, bassist Joe Escalante and guitar wizard Warren Fitzgerald compose effortless and interwoven rhythmic parts which maintain intricacy even at 190 bpm. Add on top of that impeccable Beatles-esque harmonies and a punked-up cover of “So Long, Farewell” from the Sound of Music, and The Vandals have handed us a pile of lightning-fast tunes that guarantee laughter as much as they do moshing.


            Because punk rock has a more rigid sound structure (super fast and super loud) than other genres, all too often a punk record will be composed of songs so similar in tempo and energy that they simply bleed together. While Hitler Bad, Vandals Good is no exception, featuring more than a few songs loaded with power chords and cliché progressions, The Vandals do make some valiant strides towards breaking up any monotony. The band layers various instruments into their songs, such as a bongos in "If the Gov't Could Read My Mind" and a tuba in "I Know, Huh?" But rather than just squeeze those new instruments in, The Vandals choose to arrange their own parts to complement the new textures, thus justifying the added horn section in "Fucked Up Girl" by moving into a full-out blues.
            Some songs off of the record even go so far as to acknowledge the limitations of the genre of punk. Both "I've Got an Ape Drape" and "Money's Not an Issue" repeat certain riffs or sections ad nauseum; this deliberate application of the extreme simplicity that a lot of punk acts embrace proves The Vandals to be a very self-aware act. And just as often as they embody their punk ethics, so too do they shun them: "Euro-Barge"  features a fantastically un-punk time signature change, alternating between measures of 7/16 and 4/4, while "People That Are Going to Hell" relies on a very strange melody built to defy the downbeat. Hitler Bad, Vandals Good might be a punk record, but The Vandals work hard to bring more to the table than slash-beats and simple shouting. 


            Although neither the most exciting or enlightening record, Hitler Bad, Vandals Good is still and excellent example of how music can resonate without being stuffy. The Vandals know exactly who they are and what they want from this endeavor: to play fast punk and to make people laugh. There is not a drop of doubt or indecision at any point on this record, and such honest identity makes for a pretty fantastic listening experience. Even a decade after I first heard them, many of the songs on Hitler Bad, Vandals Good keep me cracking up, and remind me that a serious song can be just as heartfelt as a nonsensical one.  

Tunes to Check Out:
2) I've Got an Ape Drape
3) So Long, Farewell