web analytics

Pop Rock Nation

Category: Reviews

music-and-concert-reviews-you-wont-see-anywhere-else

  • FORTY-FIVE REVOLUTIONS PER MINUTE #38: Sanitized By Swisher

    R.E.M.'s "Driver 8" 45 sleeve

    R.E.M.  “Driver 8″  b/w  “Crazy” (I.R.S. Records #52678, 1985)

    Alternative rock became a saleable commodity in the 1990’s, but back in ’85 it was mostly confined to non-commercial college radio stations, dorm-room record-players, frat-house keggers and a string of musky all-ages clubs that stretched from Jacksonville to San Diego.  Acting as a genuine “alternative” to all the Poison, Warrant and Cinderella gumming up the airwaves, down-to-earth acts like The Minutemen, Husker Du and The Replacements provided a much-needed sanctuary for those of us whose favorite Saturday night records were Marquee Moon and Pink Flag, and whose favorite Sunday morning record was The Velvet Underground & Nico.  By simply being themselves, Athens, GA’s R.E.M. rose to become the intelligent, headstrong, always forward-looking and never-reluctant centerpiece of this phenomenon, and their championing of other great bands who influenced them was second to none.  Along with being an R.E.M. fan came the bonus of others’ great music too.  At the time of release, I saw this week’s featured single as a mature talisman from wizened elder-statesmen.  Looking back, I see that it was only just the beginning.

    The back of R.E.M.'s "Driver 8" 45 sleeve

    If you say it fast enough, the title “Driver 8″ could be mistaken for “Gyrate,” which was the name of a popular LP by Athens art-dance-rock pioneers Pylon some five years prior (around the same time as Gang Of Four’s Entertainment! and The B-52’s’ Wild Planet, to put it in context).  And our boys hold very true to that influence in the song itself, which intercuts Michael Stipe’s oblique Southern storytelling with the same kind of terse, jerky, stark rhythms and wiry guitars patented by their new wave Georgian forebears.  And the train conductor says, “Take a break…”

    Watch the video for \”Driver 8\” by R.E.M. on YouTube

    “Driver 8” was the 2nd of two singles pulled from R.E.M.’s third LP, the Joe Boyd-produced Fables Of The Reconstruction (or Reconstruction Of The Fables, depending on which way you hold the record), an album which focused less on the reverberating, ringing jangle of their previous efforts (which nearly ignored the caffeinated agit-prop of their early live shows) and more on the solid, dense rock foundation that was about to bring them worldwide success.  More Tom Verlaine and less Roger McGuinn, one could say.  The house wasn’t fully built yet, but the cornerstones were well in place.

    R.E.M.'s 1985 LP "Fables Of The Reconstruction"

    Side B serves up more Pylon in the form of a straight-up cover of their 1981 single, “Crazy.”  It sounds so good that I wish they’d done a whole album of Pylon covers.  This recording later appeared on R.E.M.’s Dead Letter Office CD (a great collections of B-sides, and also for the longest time the only way you could get their brilliant Chronic Town EP). You can check out a live concert recording from ’89 here, but even cooler is this more recent footage of Pylon themselves performing the song at KFJC Los Altos last November, keeping very true to their original vision.

    Pylon's classic "Gyrate" LP

    I don’t need to tell you what became of Rock & Roll Hall-Of-Famers R.E.M., but Pylon broke up and reunited several times over, releasing three albums-worth of heavenly, danceable, overlooked genius, plus one best-of collection (appropriately titled, “Hits”).  Guitarist/songwriter Randy Bewley died this past February, after suffering a heart attack while driving, sadly putting an end to all things Pylon.

    NEXT WEEK: The farther one travels, the less one knows.

  • The 200-Word Review: Charlie Wilson’s “Uncle Charlie”

    uncle-charlie

    Former Gap Band lead singer Charlie Wilson scored big with his 2005 comeback album Charlie, Last Name Wilson, and after four years (and a bout with prostate cancer), he returns with a more club-oriented, contemporary sound on Uncle Charlie. Fans of the last album may be a little disappointed with the club beats and contemporary flourishes from a classic R&B artist, but Wilson’s signature voice is good enough to overcome the occasional sonic misstep.

    Among the uptempo jams, the almost Euro-dance Let it Out sticks out, with its’ galloping bassline lifted from Charlie’s 1982 Gap Band hit “Burn Rubber”, but the album really picks up steam with songs like the swaying ballad “There Goes My Baby”, the summery midtempo track “What You Do to Me” and the dramatic “Homeless”. The guest artists (Snoop, as well as an Auto-Tuned Jamie Foxx and T-Pain) are unobtrusive but also unnecessary.

    Uncle Charlie is proof positive that mediocre production and songwriting can be saved by superior vocals. While I would have liked content that was a little more mature, organic and age-appropriate, this album stands out as solid enough (in a ridiculously craptastic year for R&B so far) that I’m willing to give Wilson a pass.

  • Nothing Like It Was In My Room (The National concert review)

     

    I can’t talk about The National without putting my hand over my heart. Boxer runs second to OK Computer on my list of albums that kill me (in a good way). The National doesn’t quite have the depth of Radiohead yet, but they occupy and bear mentioning in the same emotional, catharsis-inducing territory. Frontman Matt Berninger’s resonant Leonard Cohen-esque voice instantly distinguishes The National from other emotional alterna-rock bands such as Arcade Fire, Band of Horses, and Radiohead.

    Berninger’s voice holds up impressively live, although he clips the ends of his words and staccatos the lyrics, rather than letting them stretch over the music, which makes them difficult to understand. Berninger plays the dutiful hipster frontman, clad in a sportsjacket, skinny jeans, and a tie, an ensemble that belies the depth and tenor of his voice. He also keeps a bottle of white wine on ice during the show.

    Despite performing at Boston’s House of Blues, a venue perfect for bands that employ visuals and entourages, The National is anything but a spectacle. When they play live, they rely on old-school rocking and a bit of crooning to enrapture the audience. The May 23rd show sold out, and the crowds (especially in the bathrooms) forced the facility to open the usually-private third floor to the public. The sound quality on the third floor is noticeably better than that on the second floor, due to the way the second floor is sandwiched by the low ceiling of the balcony. Watching The National from above felt particularly appropriate, like looking down on something simple and beautiful that you don’t want to disturb. Other than the occasional communal sway, the sea of people below me stood still, and I imagined them holding their breaths for the same reason.

    The trajectory of the concert mirrored the trajectory of the best National songs – a modest beginning, then a slowly building tension that crescendos into musical heartbreak, with the occasional mend. Watching them live, it became evident that this momentum rises largely on the back of the drums. Concert highlights, such as Fake Empire and  Squalor Victoria, would have floundered in mediocrity without the skins. With each album, The National’s drummer, Bryan Devendorf, who switched between drumsticks and soft mallets in almost each song during the show, creates a rhythmic through-line that opens space for Berninger’s vocals and lyrics.

    The National knows its fan base well. They played a couple new songs off an as yet unnamed album, but they primarily stuck to classics from Alligator and Boxer, such as Mr. November, Green Gloves, and Secret Meeting. Berninger didn’t interact much with the audience, but he did dedicate Slow Show to a guy who recently proposed to his girlfriend, only to get dumped by her soon after and, of course, bump into her at the show with someone else. The anecdote illustrates the appeal of The National – dumpers and dumpees can’t help but recognize the sounds of love fleetingly gained and permanently lost. I was surprised to look around and see men of all ages singing you know I dreamed about you for 29 years, before I saw you. The amount of testosterone in the audience is a testament to The National’s resonant, but never whiny, synthesis of emotion and music.

    Fake Empire brought the house down for precisely this reason. The guitar and drums drove on, faster and faster, while Berninger built heartbreak verse by verse. Initially, it’s almost as though there were two songs being played, like someone learning to juggle with each hand separately. Bit by bit, the lyrics and melodies and rhythm layered and merged into a perfectly balanced and choreographed toss and catch, ending in musical transcendence that transfixed us all.