ALBUM REVIEWS
The Olivia Tremor Control – Black Foliage: Animation Music Volume One (Reissue)
The home page of the website of mystery-shrouded Athens, Georgia record company Elephant 6 (E6) does not want to dispel any mythologized speculations: “Elephant 6 – A Collective, a Label, a Cult? Elephant 6 may be all of these things or none of these depending on your point of view…” Yet the age of the internet exposes Elephant 6 a benign group of longtime friends united by a love of Brian Wilson and a willingness to share instruments, vocals and lyrics in projects like The Apples in Stereo, The Olivia Tremor Control, Neutral Milk Hotel, Beulah, Elf Power, Of Montreal, and Circulatory System.
Frontmen Will Cullen Hart and Bill Doss bring back their main project, The Olivia Tremor Control (OTC), from a decade-long hiatus with not only multiple nationwide tours, but also reissues of their 1999 album “Black Foliage: Animation Music.”
Long nights of listening to late-‘60s Beatles and ‘80s Flaming Lips combine with perfectionism to help the OTC develop an aural kaleidoscope that can be heralded as a modern “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.”
In a recent November interview conducted by Jonny Abrams, Doss summed up the “painstaking” “Black Foliage” that “took three years to finish:” “Those noises were created on a variety of machines, tape cut-ups, digital 4 and 16 tracks, 4-track cassettes, etc. Many sounds were, in fact, found sounds from various hand held tapes that were recorded on our tours into strange and mysterious lands.”
In the quest for equally strange and mysterious music, accessibility ranks low on the OTC’s priority list. The cover of “Black Foliage,” for example, includes the telltale Elephant 6 phantasmagoria, but is devoid of any written information to identify the album or even the artist. No less ambiguous are the contents of the LP inside: 27 songs, multiple tracks sharing the same name, and four-second harpsichord snippets coexisting with twelve-minute epics. Music downloaders and iTunes shufflers beware – OTC stubbornly crafted this record to be listened to in its hour-long entirety.
The OTC continue to be uncompromising when they spell out what they expect from listeners. The single “Hideaway” establishes a well-structured, yet surreal atmosphere for the album with imperatives: “Don’t hideaway, hideaway from your imagery/ Don’t hideaway, hideaway from all your daydreams/ Or your nightmares.”
The band abandons this rigid pretense seconds later in “A Peculiar Noise Called ‘Train Director’” by acknowledging that “where we are – in the blink of an eye/ you get several meanings.”
Cullen Hart and Doss allow for half of the album to elapse before they reflect on “I Have Been Floated,” that they have lost all control of the album: “I have been floated/ to this thought this hour/ on a series of events I cannot explain.”
Some parts of “Black Foliage” are indeed inexplicable. Though the whispery vocals clearly show the talent that inspired acts like of Montreal, the lyrics don’t allow for much comparison. The lyrics rely heavily on sudden realizations and do not follow any sort of pop structure. Even then, they are secondary to the ambient tinkering of unnamed and most-likely, makeshift, instruments.
Perhaps the single most glorious moment of “Black Foliage” is in the twenty-first track, “California Demise, Pt. 3,” which contains a small skip halfway through. The band reportedly noticed the flaw during playback but decided to keep it on the album as a sign of the transience of sound.
In a year when many bands are resorting to stretching back to the past for inspiration, the OTC proves that there is no substitute to introducing old releases to a new generation. Doss had once wryly quipped that at least 50 listens were required to grasp the complexity of “Black Foliage.” The 2011 reissue, with its richer bass, fuller vocals, and download cards of out-of-print sessions, merely adds to the number of listens needed. The task is formidable even to the biggest E6 enthusiasts. The only way to get past this is to realize that the sole purpose of “Black Foliage” is to inspire an appreciation for sound that is completely separate from the love of music.
Rating: 4.9 out of 5
Jonathan Richman – O Moon, Queen of Night On Earth
The Modern Lovers were among the most paradoxical acts of the early ‘70s. They pioneered proto-punk with their rejection of ‘60s drop-out culture and “Hippie Johnny” while simultaneously praising The Velvet Underground as “America at its best.” Their debut self-titled album was the precursor to both Minor Threat’s stoic “straight edge-ism” and the nighttime party hits of Art Brut. The spotlight was always on frontman Jonathan Richman who also lived two lives: the risk-taker who penned the Americana hit “Roadrunner” while driving around Boston and the wide-eyed college boy who cried while reciting William Blake’s “Little Lamb.”
Richman, now 59, is on his nineteenth full-release album, though it hasn’t been released with much fanfare. Even after recording one of the most defining albums of rock history, Richman has more or less faded to obscurity – save a cameo or two in the 1998 film “There’s Something About Mary.”
Maybe it worked out for Richman, a proud New England native, who considers himself a storyteller first and a musician second. Not being constantly under the public eye allows him freedom to produce the music straight from his heart without worrying about reception. “O Moon, Queen of Night on Earth” pays homage to blissful solitude, cherished few friends, and a cheerful rendition of Kurt Vonnegut’s “So it goes.” Richman’s instrument of choice aptly happens to be nylon-stringed flamenco guitars and a make-shift drum kit.
From the beginning of the album, Richman works to maintain the atmosphere of a “wee small hours” record. The first and eponymous track spends three fourths of its time on soft guitar plucking before launching into an ironic urbanite’s ode to the night sky he probably can’t see: “Silent compassion/silent companion/ may there be no lights/Competing with your moonlight anymore.”
The following track, “If You Want to Leave Our Party Just Go,” solidifies the idea that Richman still has the same old “nice guy” personality everyone grew to love in the ‘70s. He tells a bored guest at his party, “There’s no need to be polite/ and just stay
just for appearances/This ain’t school/You don’t have to stay.”
The biggest difference between JoJo of the Modern Lovers, as Richman is affectionately referred to by fans, and the Jonathan of today is the grave maturity in both the introspective lyrics and the steady vocals. The darkest song on the album happens to be “The Sea Was Calling Me Home,” a confession of the worst fears of growing old: “In my dream the sea was calling me home/but I was scared of losing myself/scared of just being a blend in with everyone else/ it felt like dyin.”
The hidden gem in “O Moon” happens to be the eleventh track, “My Affected Accent,” a wry forty years too late “apology” for being a pretentious “brat” in high school. He begins with a confession,” “I talked with an accent I didn’t have/I borrowed from this/ and I borrowed from that/ to make my affected accent,” and illustrates with ridiculous examples: “”I droned like William F Buckley does/I had a thing for professorial rolling Os/I talked about things that I didn’t know.” Richman proves that being able to laugh at oneself brings a musician closer to his or her audience.
Richman’s music has gotten to the point where it is impossible to compare his latest endeavors to anything released by his contemporaries. However, his noble tradition of looking past the bleakness of the New England winter and finding life in the snow is one that lives on in the East Village anti-folk of Jeffrey Lewis and the Swedish pop of Jens Lekman. “O Moon” is not particularly ambitious, but that was never what Richman was aiming for.
“What is life without a search/ for the dark and the shadowed/ the obscure?” Richman warbles at one point.
JoJo fans must accept that his recent releases, including “O Moon,” are not going down as “Best Of” or “Top One Hundred” lists of any major music publication. Yet the songs do have more than enough potential to climb the charts of anyone’s heart as the most pleasant, most honest, and the most charming ever written.
Rating: 4.7 out of 5
Hospitality - Hospitality
Though there wasn’t much of a winter to be alleviated from this year, Brooklyn trio Hospitality’s self-titled debut offers a very inviting and sunny transition into spring. Hospitality are a unique bunch, even for a band based in Brooklyn. Singer Amber Papini, native of the Midwest, embodies the spirit of minimalist indie-pop through guitar and piano and is joined by drummer, flautist, and harmonica player Nathan Michel as well as bassist Brian Betancourt. The trio initially gained media buzz during early 2009 for releasing the songs “Argonaut” and “Betty Wang,” which were refreshing alternatives to the synth-laden pop in the height of Animal Collective and chill-wave hysteria. This year, Hospitality are back with a self-titled release to polish up their old releases and introduce audiences to new endeavors.
Beyond anything else, location is central to the feel of this record. New York City is, at once, Papini’s inspiration to write and also a source of frustration. She reminisces about her youth behind layers of angular guitar melodies in “Eight Avenue,” the first track of the album:
“I left my twenties/
In bar rooms and bathroom halls/
Past twenty-two to forty and four/
Eighth Avenue/
We walked twenty blocks/
Sat on the roof…”
In “Friends of Friends,” though, Papini has less kind things to say about “New Amsterdam” and its curious consistency:
“I don’t wanna go/Down to Fourteenth Street/In old New York
I’d rather be home/ I find it’s all the same.”
Understanding of this record is enhanced by learning the background of the songs. “Betty Wang,” for example, is about a colleague – and the only female executive – at the investment firm where Amber Papini once worked. This explains the respect that shines through on the third track: “Betty Wang, you don’t lie when you give clear advice…/You don’t laugh at my jokes/ I appreciate your time.”
It’s easy to get fooled into thinking that Hospitality only brings cutesy twee-pop to the table, however, Papini isn’t afraid to make wry observations on the true costs of dedicating one’s life to the pursuit of knowledge instead of the pursuit of money in songs like “Liberal Arts:”
“So you found the lock/But not the key that college brings/
And all the trouble of a B.A. in English literature/
Instead of law or something more practical.”
She comes back to this concept in the next verse, as well:
“You traded all your time for money and the blues/
With no trust fund or daddy doctor/ What do you have to prove?”
Hospitality does have a lot to prove. Merge Records describes Hospitality best when it calls them a “sophisticated, new voice” in pop music. However, their strength may be one of their weaknesses. Since 2009, Hospitality have been under pressure to be much more intelligent and much more self-aware than the average band. Often times, an ambition to retain this reputation leads to scattered ideas and opaque themes that threaten to break the cohesion of the album. The songs are barely kept together by the consistency in Papini’s voice, whose airy quality brings to mind Twin Sister’s Andrea Estrella and The Velvet Underground’s Moe Tucker.
Hospitality has gained enough attention following the release of their self-titled and has already been put in “best of” 2012 lists. The main appeal lies in the pleasantness, honesty, and the charm of “Hospitality.” This album has more than enough potential in its simple brilliance to climb the charts of anyone’s heart.
Rating: 4.6 out of 5
Girls - Father, Son, Holy Ghost
The ordinariness of the San Francisco band Girls ends with the name. Fronted by two key (male) musicians – lead singer/writer Christopher Owens and producer/bassist Chet “JR” White – Girls have been making standout, sunny pop music since 2007. After receiving critical acclaim and accolades from major publications and music blogs, alike, for their 2009 debut, “Album,” Girls are back with the fall 2011 release “Father, Son, Holy Ghost.”
Girls’ 2009 debut, with its summery single “Lust for Life” explored wishing for “suntan[s],” “pizza[s],” and “beach house[s]” and brought back listeners to the early Beach Boys era. Even outside of the surf rock realm, the musical comparisons are endless. At times “Father, Son, Holy Ghost” feels like one great homage to all the musicians Girls grew up on. Owens mixes what appear to be controlled amounts of Buddy Holly, Elvis Costello, and Elliott Smith to create a substance with a completely different composition.
In a recent interview, Owens discussed just how essential his music tastes are to the music Girls makes: “Each song has a different celebrity name attached to it– when I go to the studio with JR, I say, ‘This is a so-and-so song.’”
The first track and lead single, “Honey Bunny,” emits the vibes of songs already heard before, but spun with a unique, quaint motion that could have only come from Owens and White. Owens earnestly sings about wanting unconditional love from someone who will tell him that “everything will be alright” whenever time he is sad. He remains optimistic about finding such a person: “I know you’re out there/you might be right around the corner/ and you’ll be the girl that I love.”
In the relatively somber, less up-beat track “Vomit” Owens demonstrates that he is serious about looking for that same unconditional love from the first track: “Nights I spend alone/ I spend ’em runnin’ ’round lookin’ for you, baby/ Lookin’ for love.”
The lyrics are innocent, but they never wander into the realm of childishness. They always keep a certain sophistication and elegance in their simplicity. Not since Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers have any pop group been able to so perfectly convey so much meaning with such simple, almost, clichéd ideas.
It would not be right to label Girls as just another band attempting nostalgia rock, however. It is clear to see that this album was much labored over. There are layers upon layers of instruments within each track and within the instruments themselves. The band goes all out and travels back to the era of classic rock with organs, flutes, and backing vocals. Girls take a very interesting turn with “Die,” an almost-five minute long instrumental track that is one-half Fleetwood Mac, and one-half metal.
Girls cover every possible ground on “Father,” bring influences from every possible source, and somehow still manage to retain their own voice. In a year where every band is resorting to stretching back to the past for inspiration, Girls reach back the furthest and bring the most back. “I can see so much clearer when I just close my eyes,” ends the final track. “Father, Son, Holy Ghost” has a lot to offer, and most of it is not perceivable the first, second, or even tenth time listening. Fortunately, this is an album that withstands every press of the repeat button.
Rating: 5 out of 5