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Music Reviews - The Fashion Issue 2009


  
 
 
     
 
 
 




 

V/A
The RZA Presents: Afro Samurai Resurrection
Koch
This is the soundtrack to an anime movie about a black samurai voiced by Samuel L. Jackson. Who else to produce the score but Prince Rakeem himself? On the whole, it’s pretty mediocre. There are some all-right joints (mostly the ones featuring fellow Wu collaborators), but for the most part it’s throwaway shit with really minimal (read: boring) beats and laughable verses. The RZA is a prolific cat and they can’t all be classics, so I’m not that mad.

ROBERT ANALOG

ZION I
The Takeover
Gold Dust Media

GRANDMASTER FLASH
The Bridge
Strut
Twenty-five years ago, Grandmaster Flash pioneered hip-hop, made turntables into instruments, and saved Kangol from bankruptcy. He’s in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and this is his first new album since 1987. And guess what? It’s just as out of touch and cheesetastic as you would have thought. It sounds just a little too much like exactly what you would expect from a 51-year-old who’s been out of the game for more than two decades. I got your back, Grandpa Flash, but a lot has changed in hip-hop since you released an album called Ba-Dop-Boom-Bang, and it’s slightly too late to play catch-up now. There’s even a song with a synth-heavy hook in which the word “swagger” is fully enunciated, with the “r” intact. How embarrassing.

CHRISTIAN STORM
 
These dudes do not get the respect they deserve. They’ve been bringing the backpacker heat more consistently than Boy Scout campfires, and each album they put out impresses me more and more—this one being no different. Zumbi’s flow is nerdy and buttery at the same time (kinda like Q-Tip’s) and AmpLive’s futuristic boom-bap beats always have my head bobbing. You simply cannot fuck with them. This disc makes me wish it were summer already so I could roll around blasting it through my one good car speaker.

CHRISTOPHE STORMINGTONINSKI


 		    
   
 

DAN DEACON
Bromst
Carpark
This cuddly, short-panted, good-vibe goofus is OK with me. Did you know he switched to a vegan diet and lost 30 pounds? He’s like the Jared of electronica. His songs all sound like happy-hardcore remixes of Philip Glass compositions and they all follow the same buildup method where it starts out all soft and then gets more dense and layered until it explodes in a musical frenzy. It’s almost too much. His songs are like little Adderalls made of music—they overload you to the point where your brain says, “That’s it. I’m out of here.” Luckily I hate my brain. That cocksucker’s always bringing me down.

MORRIS BEANBLOSSOM

MSTRKRFT
Fist of God
Dim Mak/Downtown
I picked this one up because like so many teenage girls before me I was beguiled by the MSTRKRFT remix of “D.A.N.C.E.” Sadly, without a really good pop song layered under MSTRKRFT’s R2-D2 bloops and whistles, it just sounds like a bad day on the Moon of Endor set to a metronomic drumbeat. If you’re into this kind of dancey rail-blaster soundtrack stuff then wait for the inevitable decent remixes to appear on the Palms Out blog.

TOILET COBRA
 


 
   
     

MONGOLOIDS
Assorted Music
Eulogy
Yet another potentially cool hardcore band ruined by tricking themselves into thinking they wrote a “concept record.” Fucked Up should do an apology/PSA, like, “Hey kids, ask your parents before thinking too hard about punk rock.” And you know, I really did give Mongoloids a fair shot—I had heard a lot about these NJ straightedge dudes and their crazy, tripped-out artwork. Unfortunately, the pukey face is declared because underneath the heavy-handed wackiness and occasional ear-catching metal pick-slide, Assorted Music is really just another bucket of chunky moshcore with Integrity-style vocals and ponderously vague lyrics. Unless the “concept” here was mediocrity, in which case turn that vomit-y frown upside down—it’s a home run!

MISS CARRIAGE

OBITS
I Blame You
Sub Pop
Rick Froberg is a one-man exception to the second law of thermodynamics. Drive Like Jehu were one of the hardest bands of the early 90s, Hot Snakes picked up without losing any steam at the end of the decade, and Obits continue rocking apace today. Oh fuck, and Thingy! Remember them? They were fucking great too. Anyways, alls I’m saying is, old age evidently doesn’t apply to Froberg, and the only reason you could possibly think this new project isn’t as awesome as Jehu is because you didn’t lose your virginity to it. Yet.

BOBO FRENOZE
 

SISTERS
Everybody…
Parts Unknown
Between the cover art and the name, can you guess what this band sounds like? I’ll give you a hint: Sonic Youth. For roughly half the songs on here, they sound like a Sonic Youth tribute band, right down to the spot-on vocal impersonations of Kim and Thurston. Then, oddly, for the rest of the album they sound like Unwound. It’s kind of uncanny. They’re like the Sha Na Na of 1990s college rock and it’s making us feel verrrrrrry old. On the other hand, we’d rather listen to this nostalgia-fest than MGMT or all that other silly stuff the youngsters call music these days.

DAISY VON FART
 

THE MONKS
Black Monk Time
Light in the Attic
The Monks exists somewhere between the fuck-you-to-death sound of the Sonics and the I-wish-I-was-dead vibe of the Zombies. They were a bunch of American soldiers in Germany in the 60s who shaved circles on top of their heads like monks and sang manic, stutter-filled songs such as “I Hate You” and “Shut Up.” This reissue of their record includes two songs that weren’t on it before but it’s not worth buying if you already own the previous version. If you don’t, oh man... you must be some sort of jerk. They are the only good thing to happen to music ever, of all time.

NICK GAZIN

THE NUMBER 12 LOOKS LIKE YOU
Worse Than Alone
Eyeball
What makes this happen? At least with rappers it’s like, “OK, I understand that your dad was in jail by the time you were born and your mom raised you on Cheetos and regret and, yes, that would upset me as well,” but what makes these kids so angry? Did that silver Honda Civic take your place outside the Dunkin’ Donuts when you went to hang with the bros last Saturday? I hate white people. 

BRIAN SCALABRINE
 

DRUNKDRIVER
Born Pregnant
Parts Unknown
Before Sharkey from Clockcleaner moved to Australia to go on a “walkabout” with John Locke, he said he thought Pissed Jeans had lost the plot a bit and that Hope for Men was weird for the sake of weird. I’m not sure about all that, but now that he’s back with that poor Aborigine woman he clubbed, I think he’ll find Drunkdriver a more than suitable replacement for the throne. Unharnessed vitriol and absolutely devastating live. Own this. 

GLEN DAVIS

CHAIN AND THE GANG
Down With Liberty… Up With Chains!
K
Having given the what-for to punk, 60s gospel rock, and whatever Weird War was supposed to be about, Ian Svenonius is now doing some sort of vaudevillian prison-chantey thing that we’re guessing is based on an extremely obscure 20th-century music scene or style of pant. And it’s awesome. Songs touch on any number of hot-button issues from reparations for going to school to trash talk (don’t do it!) to CIA assassination plots. There’s even a particularly juicy dig at music interviews in which Ian explains his sound (it’s underground) and his stance (he likes to dance). Is there also an extemporaneous blues sermon on what a dollar is, you ask? Yes there is. Yes, there is.

CHAUNCEY CHORTLEBUG
 

LORDS OF BUKKAKE
S/T
Gaia/Odio Sonoro
This is the dirge-metal band our Vice Spain editor, Toni, does. We had no idea he was a metal dude until he sent us this. In fact, we don’t know much about Toni at all. Now whenever we get emails from him, we’re going to picture Toni in full corpse paint and cape, whipping a spike-covered club around over his head and howling about final layouts. Anyway, these are some fine 15-minute-long jams, and interestingly, when Toni sings he sounds like a cross between the Crypt Keeper and the little thing that sits next to Jabba the Hut and goes “Heh heh heh!” It’s a new and unique twist on the generic guttural growls that usually accompany this genre. We’re proud to have him on board.

MEG SNEED
 


 
 
   

MIRAH
(A)spera
K
Grrrr! So mad! I was all tooled up and ready to gleefully tear this a new shithole based on my instinctual disdain for all things quietly ponderous, introspective, and vaguely political in that noncommittal “folk” way. Adding fuel to the fire is Mirah’s girlish, bashful warble that makes me want to shake the shit out of her like, “SPEAK UP, WOMAN!” while trying to hide the huge boner her voice gives me. It’s so vexing—I can’t hate her because she takes everything that annoys me about music and makes it cool and hot and sad at the same time. So frustratingly awesome. Now I have to masturbate while trying not to cry. Again.

BARON VON JAGOFF
 

BONNIE “PRINCE” BILLY
Beware
Drag City
I have no idea what you expect me to say about Will Oldham that hasn’t been said by a million other hacks. Seriously, what am I supposed to write here, something about the hammer-ons on this record? His beard? Some hilarious story about the last time I saw him play or the time we drank a bunch of bourbon and had “high jinks” together? Ridiculous. This is such a “you already know if you’re going to like it” album that those of you who do are probably on your way to the store right now. In fact, I’m going to assume that by this point nobody is reading this review and I’ve got license to say whatever I feel like. Booger pussy.

MARK KOZELEK
 

ASOBI SEKSU
Hush
Polyvinyl
How is it you can give the Japanese a rock-’em sock-’em robot and they turn it into Asimo, but when you toss them a softball like “make us a bunch of fake Cocteau Twins songs so we can cut down the music-licensing budget for our premium-cable lesbian soap opera,” they come back at you with this pile of shimmery crap? Answer me that one, Asia.

DYKOPOLIS

 

THE BOY LEAST LIKELY TO
The Law of the Playground
Plus One
Not just shitty, DANGEROUSLY shitty. So putrid it should be locked in a safe and dropped in the Bermuda Triangle along with anyone who knows the combination. Don’t believe me? Exhibit A, actual lyrics: “I got a bucket/Filled it with raindrops/Then I put it in the fridge/Now whenever the sun is shining/I make rainbows out of it.” Jesus! Fucking! Christ! Even just rereading that right now with no music playing is making me tremble with 28 Days Later-scale rage. How do these guys play live shows without someone jumping on stage and pushing thumbs into their eye sockets? Someone find these assholes and burn them off the face of the earth before this cloyingly glib ineptitude spreads like an airborne disease and destroys civilization as we know it. (PS: This really sucks.)

SASSY KIT-KATS
 

JEREMY JAY
Slow Dance
K
I like this album, but a lot of the songs feel like “Rock ’n’ Roll Suicide” sped up and with bigger drums. He does a Bowie-ish hum and sings in a sad English-guy manner with echo under his voice making him more spaceman Englishy. Fuck English people. They are all like C-3PO butlers with poor circulation and smug attitudes. The cast of The Mighty Boosh have been spared this blood tithing. Which shitty little island will I condemn next in a record review? Peeeerrrrrrhaaappppssssss Nannnnnnnntuckkkettt?

NICK GAZIN
 

THE DECEMBERISTS
The Hazards of Love
Capitol
If there was a three-way cage match to the death between people with NPR in their Top 8 on MySpace, middle-aged virgins in cardigans, and fans of this band, who would win? Trick question: They’re all the same people, and they’d all go get bubble tea together and laugh gently at regular-looking clouds while holding yellow umbrellas.

TONY ALLEN
 
 

MONO
Hymn to the Immortal Wind
Temporary Residence
Do you remember the Hulk TV show? I was in first grade when that was on the air and it used to make me cry on a regular basis. Why? Because the Hulk would wind up in some lame-ass town, somehow get involved in the local murder mystery or an ongoing extortion scheme, and fix everything by beating the shit out of the bad guys. Yet at the end he would be running away, sad and alone with no friends anywhere. Every episode would close with Bill Bixby solemnly trudging into the sunset, trying to hitch a ride while this sad fucking piano music played over the end credits. Apparently they have the Hulk in Japan now because that’s exactly what all of these songs sound like and of course I am whimpering like a latchkey kid. This is a great album.

FORMER NY GOVERNOR ELIOT SPITZER
 

MISTRESS STEPHANIE & HER MELODIC CAT
Take That!
Pressing
Ah, the Weimar! It was a fantastical time when androgynous barflies used cigarette holders to hold cigarettes and played jazz with Jews. It was many decades ago, before Germans became boring, guilt-ridden freakazoids unable to come without someone taking a dump on their head. Who better to remind us of this golden era than an Austin, Texas, comedy troupe with fake accents and corny synthesized beats? Perhaps Germany can return the favor with a klezmer tribute to the Alamo? But instead of S&M gear, everyone can dress like, oh, why not ninjas? History + musical theater = endless retarded possibilities!

ETHAN CONEHEAD
 

WREKMEISTER HARMONIES
Recordings Made in Public Spaces Volume One
Atavistic
Field recordings are cool as long as you don’t live in the field they’re recorded in. Case in point, if you played these “public space” pieces for some kid in Kansas who doesn’t have to walk by that jazz club on West 10th on his way home from work every night, maybe they’d spur his interest in the city or expand his musical palette or whatnot. When I put it on in the apartment all it does is make my roommate ask, “Why are we listening to outside?”

TERRENCE HANN
 

BLACK DICE
Repo
Paw Tracks

SERGE GAINSBOURG
Histoire de Melody Nelson
Light in the Attic
Gainsbourg’s 1971 concept album has never been released in the US until now due to people’s hang-ups over the story, which is basically: Serge hits a young girl in his Rolls-Royce and then rapes her back to health. Here’s what’s always bothered me: Who do they think is going around this country speaking French who DOESN’T want to listen to a 43-year-old Jew gurgling about pedophilia over music that sounds like early Soft Machine?

GANGLEA KHAN
 

BALMORHEA
All Is Wild, All Is Silent
Western Vinyl
It’s usually a cop-out to make fun of a band’s press release and call it a review, but this is killing me. In one paragraph appear the following words: “pulchritude,” “variegated,” “balm,” and “sensuality” TWICE! Additionally we have the bizarre phrase “understated simplicity.” How do you understate simplicity? “Oh wow, I didn’t even notice that this wasn’t complex.” Anyway, just to be fair I listened to the CD too, and it sounds like movie montage music for the scene in an independent rom-com where the couple have broken up and it shows little snippets of how they’ve moved on with their lives but sometimes they’re secretly still sad.

MERV PETROLEUM
 

EMERALDS
What Happened
No Fun'
Last time I reviewed an Emeralds album for Vice someone on the internet got angry because I compared them to (a much, much shittier) Growing. For the record, I do not believe this band is trying to rip off Growing, I just think their music sounds like what would happen if God picked up the two guys from Growing, dropped them in the middle of Ohio, and took out the portion of their brains that controls coming up with interesting noises that don’t make you want to punch the CD player until blood is running down your knuckles. Better?

ERIN SUNCH
 
Why do I feel obliged to give this band a smiley, anyway? Because they’re “cool”? Because they’ve been the accepted “gold standard” of experimental electronic-y art-noise music for like eight years? I’ve listened to this album twice now and I see no reason for it to exist. It sounds a whole lot like their last one—distorted, chaotic, pointy, herky-jerky, carnivalian, clowny, blorchy, gleepish, brain-poking, etc.—and I can’t think of one occasion when it would be pleasant to listen to. It goes nowhere and serves no purpose. But I’m too intimidated by all the cool cred to give it a pukey face so let’s just pretend this never happened.

MARTY MCPANTS
3 years ago More from this issue

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