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Author: brian

  • #18 album of 2013 – Good Things by Half Past Four

    Artist: Half Past Four

    Album: Good Things

    The logic of belatedly reviving my best-of-2013 countdown on Thanksgiving weekend — after having left it too often neglected in a 2014 that’s been dominated for me by my mother’s fatal cancer, which has left me busier, less-helped, and sadder HP4 - Good Thingsthan usual — is that I personally tend to write music reviews in the spirit of giving thanks, a spirit I’d like to get back into.

    As an extra incentive, given which album I had waiting at #18, Thanksgiving is also a holiday about immigration. Or at least, some of my Facebook friends treat it that way, passing on cartoons and sly jokes about the original Thanksgiving fest being one where white Europeans were the undocumented aliens who didn’t speak the language. I find the politics of this dubious. Thanksgiving is if anything the worst case scenario, where you reach out to the undocumented and they kill most of you with plague, shoot enough of the survivors to quell further resistance, and steal your land and herd you into grim “reservations”. I prefer to focus on basically every subsequent example of American immigration instead. Like the welcome provided to my mom’s ancestors, supporters of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s failed Scottish revolution against the English crown, who were allowed to emigrate to the colonies instead of being executed. Or to the more fortunate of my dad’s Jewish ancestors, who decided to put as much space as possible between themselves and the pogroms, instead of waiting around to die, however bravely, in the Warsaw Resistance against Hitler’s death camps.

    Welcoming my family didn’t lead to anything extraordinary for the United States, but it led to a lot of positive ordinariness: a large, productive scattering of city planners, teachers, librarians, nurses, classical musicians, cryptographers, and other people notable for not burning the country down and destroying civilization forever. Multiply them out and you get enough immigrants to supply one of the richest, most diverse, most creative societies the world has ever known. Whereas a lot of the financial sector we can still blame on descendants of the Mayflower crew.

    Starting in the 1980s, the United States has undergone one of its periodic eras of treating immigrants with deeper suspicion and fewer social services, so perhaps for that reason, or perhaps by coincidence, the core members of Half Past Four — bassist Dmitry Lesov, keyboardist Iggy Kurtzman, and guitarist Constantin Necrasov — found themselves leaving the former USSR, as boys or college students in the mid-to-late 1990s, and moving to Toronto, Canada instead. I won’t imply the U.S. made a tragic error in not recruiting them first; you can buy their two albums, including 2013’s Good Things, quite easily here, and nowhere near enough people have done so yet to much impact the trade deficit.

    In doing so, you’ll get what sounds like a glossy ‘80s hard rock band, with a smooth, soulful, supple-voiced female (Canadian) singer who calls herself Kyree Vibrant. Except I don’t know of any actual ‘80s hard rock albums as musically interesting as Good Things, because Half Past Four keep crossing you up. There’s all the jazz chordings, some as pretty as a Stevie Wonder or Steely Dan record and others more unnerving like King Crimson. There’s riffs that, however glossy, are too heavy to have made the radio before Metallica became superstars in 1991. There’s the casual use of piano and 7/8 time on the title track. Rise breaks into surf-rock midway through the song. Spin the Girl is joyously cuckoo, a heavy-metal Broadway folk dance at a crazed waltz-of-death pace. Fate’s verses are piano-centered and in 9/4 time, but Necrasov’s guitar work still makes them sound like Pink Floyd somehow. The Earth ends the album centered around a 5/8-time sprint — and later a 7/4 stomp — that’s heavier than even the 1980s version of Metallica, as well as (this part is easier to achieve) more operatic.

    I still think it will aid Half Past Four appreciation if you enjoy the commercial primes of Van Halen and Guns’n’Roses and Bon Jovi, at least their singles. But hey, time was when that music was illegal, back in the USSR. One assumes it was sought out, on average, by the especially curious. And it’s the nature of the especially curious, and their offspring, to tamper heavily with the things they love.

    – Brian Block

    To see the rest of our favorites, visit our Favorite Albums of 2013 page!

  • #19 album of 2013 – Yetchalal by Ukandanz

    #19 album of 2013 – Yetchalal by Ukandanz

    Artist: Ukandanz

    Album: Yetchalal

    The band name Ukandanz can be pronounced as “You can danz” (“dance”), thus I pronounce it that way. They’re a French band (sax, bass, guitar, drums) that plays loud, highly energetic Ethiopian-style pop music sung by immigrant Asnake Guebreyes, so I have Ukandanz-Yetchalalno idea if I’m pronouncing it correctly, or what the name might in fact mean. But I *can* dance, and the music on Yetchalal makes me want to, and now this review has a cheap hook, so there.

    The strangeness levels on Yetchalal, to Western-trained ears, vary quite a bit. Belomi Benna is Ukandanz at their most catchy and straightforward: bopping along in 4/4 time, with simple call-and-response vocal hooks and a horn section not that far away from Dixieland jazz. Wub Nat could be taken as a variant on ’90s indie guitar rock: some of it based on a choppy percussive 6/4 bass riff Soundgarden could’ve authored on an inventive day, other sections built on dreamy floating guitar closer to Ride or Swervedriver — all of it made unfamiliar only by the very busy and complicated horn sections, and by Guebreyes’s lithe, ululating, wiggly voice and exceptional breath control. Tezalegn Yetentu‘s guitar, bass, and drum work start at punk-pop, then spend the rest of the song not far from Led Zeppelin doing one of their Mideast-inflected epic buildups; Lionel Martin’s horn blasts here are simple and rousing, and shouldn’t scare anyone who’s ever heard a marching band (unless they were stomped over and crushed bone-by-bone by said marching band, in which case, ouch!, but I was just trying to use a sonic comparison).

    Addis Abeba Bete slides on very slippery rhythms, but the bass guitar is set for blasting out of car speakers, and Guebreyes’s smoothest, lowest singing and the saxophone’s sway are probably damned seductive until the song accelerates into double-time. Semmenawerq pushes the drummer Guilhem Meier forward for his best showcase, while Ben Lecomte’s bass tolls like doom, or just an insane clock. Aykedashem Lebe is the most ominous, heaviest song here (and quite possibly my favorite), but Martin’s sax still slips a folk-dance feel into the otherwise tense action-adventure setting. Then again, the bassline of the dreamy Senadere feels almost disco. Or at least it does after nine previous Ukandanz songs have already stretched my musical horizons — and until it climaxes as a fierce guitar rave-up.

    Last year I suggested that the Debo Band’s self-titled debut, also Ethiopian-styled, had become my favorite African-pop album. I can still recommend it happily, but the superlative is no longer true; Yetchalal has walked away with that title. Both bands seem equally talented, and I can express the differences in neutral, objective terms: Yetchalal is faster, denser, trickier, and louder than Debo Band, and Asnake Guebreyes’s singing, though smooth, is high-intensity where Bruck Tesfaye’s voice is calmer, more studied. You might prefer either; but those differences translate in *my* head as “Yetchalal is better, better, better, and better, and also the singer is better”. My interest in “World Music” began, a few years ago, with a certain level of artifice: of trying new things in the belief that trying new things is a Good Thing To Do. The novelty hasn’t worn off yet, but the artifice is gone; it’s just fun now.

    – Brian Block

    To see the rest of our favorites, visit our Favorite Albums of 2013 page!

  • #20 album of 2013 – Play with Fire by Reign of Kindo

    #20 album of 2013 – Play with Fire by Reign of Kindo

    Artist: Reign of Kindo

    Album: Play with Fire

    The songs I embed with a review are always, I figure, better than nothing, but they range from “desperately-grabbed only YouTube evidence this artist exists” to “an illustration of one of the several approaches the artist uses” to “just right”. In the case of Reign of Kindo‘s Play Reign of Kindo_Play with Firewith Fire, I’ve got the latter: not only is the Hero, the Saint, the Tyrant, and the Terrorist my favorite song here, but its five minutes tour Reign of Kindo‘s varied strengths. I mention this because whether the song intrigues you, at least some, would be objective data for you. While I find myself more aware than usual of how the comparison points I choose for an artist can paint very different pictures.

    For example. They’re an agile piano-pop band with smart philosophical lyrics, jazz leanings, and fluent crooning by Joseph Secchiaroli. Their second album This is What Happens, in my top ten of a musically wonderful 2010, showed a particular flair for lovely ballads and a comfort with off-kilter time signatures. Play with Fire, album #3, is more consistently fiery and gives the band more chances to show off, still in pop-song format. I can fairly compare them to Ben Folds, say (both his balladry and his early jazzy showing-off) — with a bit of the Dave Brubeck Quartet’s calm ensemble fluency, and some of Stevie Wonder’s melody-writing quirks. Obviously, an album that’s hip and reputable.

    But the first comparisons I thought of for Play with Fire included, well, Barry Manilow (mostly At the Copa, a great song, but I was still all “Barry Manilow?”). Also Sting’s solo career — Fortress around Your Heart, All This Time, Seven Days — if we took away his synthetic production, focused on what his jazz sidemen bring, and gave him a lower, more conventionally pretty voice. The album’s one serious misstep for me, Impossible World, sounds exactly like music from a Carnival Cruise Line ad. And the dynamics and structure of the uncharacteristically lust-driven Feeling in the Night feel like a musical exploration of what hair-metal power balladry would have been, had it been a form of jazz centered in 5/4 and 7/4 time. (No, no, that’s a good thing.)

    More often Reign of Kindo‘s lyrics are reflective. Christianity is central to their background, which they have mixed feelings about. My favorite song from This is What Happens, the gorgeous Comfort in the Orchestration, was about the desire to believe in a benevolent masterplan — your own if possible, a Creator’s as an unreliable backup source of hope once you realized “you’re not in control”. The same album finished with Psalm, its last lines being “I need a miracle”, but was an original and evocative use of the “sing to God as if you’re singing to a girl” trick, admitting “Ten thousand reasons I don’t give You time … I understand if You’ve had a change in plans, because You don’t need me the way I need You”.

    Play with Fire is less concerned with God, more with the people who claim to represent Him. It starts “I’ve been told I’m evil, born into this world of sin from the day I left my mother’s womb. I’ve been told I’m fallen, that my nature is untrue, they say ‘You need God’s Reign of Kindo_bandforgiveness, son, or you’ll burn in hell with everyone’. I kindly ask them why; I may have caught them by surprise, but I know they’ll think of something… blind faith is blindness just the same, it can justify the cruelest claims”. Dust builds a Book of Common Prayer passage (“ashes to ashes, dust to dust”) into “We once were children building castles in the sand/ we’d smash them back into the land/ we’d call it all good fun./ Now we build them big and tall/ We weep and cry each time they fall… We try so hard to leave a mark/ we end up mostly leaving scars”. The Man, the Wood, and the Stone is a fable that ends the album with its title: the man who first discovers a reliable way to make fire is eager to show everyone else how he did it, but “the priests and the preachers, they heard of this man… and conspired to end him in secret… and taught ‘Man is evil, he must do as the law requires, and he must never, ever play with fire’”. As literal pre-history it’s nonsense; as a song about power and ideology today, it’s potent.

    Impossible World is a love song, Help It is an eloquent song about dancing, Romancing a Stranger is about being an incompetent suitor, I Hate Music is an attack on pop radio. I’ve already mentioned the please-have-sex-with-me song; Play with Fire is only sometimes earnest, and the playing is often, even usually, joyful. But when Secchiaroli tells us “My notebook’s a sight/ Every sentence I write/ is swiftly crossed out before long”, he’s easy to believe. I didn’t cross out some comparisons Reign of Kindo might have preferred me to. But look, there’s the embedded video, letting the band make its case for itself.

    – Brian Block

    To see the rest of our favorites, visit our Favorite Albums of 2013 page!