It was The Beatles (specifically Ringo Starr) who told us a few things we can do with a little help from our friends (Sidenote: most people are more familiar with Joe Cocker's cover of Sgt. Pepper's second track...but even that is probably due to its pop-culture bronzing as the theme to the Wonder Years...neither here nor there though). Most importantly, Mr. Starkey was sure to tell us that he gets by with a little help from his friends. Fair enough right? Where would we be without our friends? We love them like family, constantly refer to them as "ours" without actually identifying them ("One of my friends does that.", "One time, my friends and I...", "Tonight? Probably just hangout with my friends"), and we even neglect them more than we would ever care to admit. It all works out though because they are, after all, your friends. They have probably seen you in some of the most compromising situations you have ever been in (i.e. pregnancy scares, run-ins with the law, your 21st birthday). You have probably laughed with them more than anyone else you know, they most certainly know enough about you to break you (but wouldn't dare to if given the opportunity), and chances are you have shared some "emotional" moments with them as well (if you're lucky). There are very few people in your life you can expect to always be there for you, but your friends should be right atop the list. As such, I chose to put together and discuss a (short) list of songs (in no order) about friends (in their various incarnations). The only rules: the word "Friend" must be in the song title and it must not be attached to the words "boy" or "girl".

The White Stripes - "We're Going To Be Friends"

The White Stripes are most often known for music that inspires thoughts of gritty bars and even grittier guitars. However, that's what makes "We're Going To Be Friends" so great. Sandwiched in the middle of the Stripes otherwise rockingly raw third album, White Blood Cells, this track literally starts the second half of the album on a foot that we had never seen put forward by Jack and Meg. Although we have all come to expect a few oddities on every White Stripes album (see:"The Nurse", "Conquest"), "We're Going To Be Friends" wide-eyed tale of two childhood friends and their non-consequential daily routine showed us, for the first time, that the White Stripes were more than just in-your-face garage rockers. Jack tells us a story of two friends in their most innocent form. A time before school involved writing utencils that weren't colored, a time before we had realized our parents were not perfect, a time before cooties (I always picture the main characters in this song as a boy and girl for some reason). The song is friendship in its purest form, and that's why it was recorded the way it was (Jack, an acoustic guitar, and Meg with nothing but her hands in her lap). In a lot of ways, "We're Going To Be Friends" was a crossroads for the White Stripes, a band that could easily have been catergorized and washed away with the garage rock fad that was hitting at the turn of the century. Lucky for us, Jack and company rolled the dice and chose versatility over conformity.

-

Wilco - "We're Just Friends"

Jeff Tweedy has never wrote love songs in the traditional sense. He could never have written "I Want To Hold Your Hand", and probably would never have wanted to for a variety of reasons. Mainly though, it is because, more often than not, "I Want To Hold Your Hand" is not realistic, and Tweedy tends to focus on life's realities. "We're Just Friends" is a perfect example of this. The painful words of a man so broken hearted that he will do anything to just be in the presence of his former love. His solution? Act as though he is over aforementioned lover, and now try to befriend her. Hidden amongst this red herring though, are Tweedy's true sentiments. A man plagued with regret and infatuation, Tweedy's narrator "can't imagine ever being apart" from his former flame. In the end, this sparse track finds Tweedy at a piano bench trying to convince us (and himself) that he and this girl are just friends, but the truth of the story lies tucked away in the first verse when Tweedy asks the question, "If love's so easy, why is it hard?" Not quite Lennon & McCartney, but I think Jeff Tweedy is just fine with that.

-

LCD Soundsystem - "All My Friends"

A seven and a half minute song with a droning piano that never misses a step, LCD Soundsystem's "All My Friends" is one of those songs where the music helps carry along the story. James Murphy speaks about waking up one day and realizing that the "best years" of your life are past you. Your life has turned into a daily routine (hence the repetitive piano), and it appears that you don't have as many friends as you used to. Murphy frames (my) young adulthood perfectly here, "You spent the first five years trying to get with the plan, and the next five years trying to be with your friends again." Some artists might try to serve listeners a glimmer of hope by providing a solution to this great dilemma, but in the end, Murphy is no prophet, just a scenographer, capturing this unfortunate realization in a song. The track closes with Murphy asking, "Where are your friends tonight?" and ultimately pleading, "If I could see all my friends tonight", vocalizing this idea that the transition to adulthood wouldn't be so hard if we could just be around all of our friends. This begs me to ask a question though: if we could be around all of our friends, would we really be transitioning into adulthood, or just living in deferment?

-

Okkervil River - "Song of Our So Called Friend"

Okkervil River's fourth album, Black Sheep Boy, is one of the best "indie rock" albums to have come out in the past five years. Of no coincidence, it is also one of the most depressing albums I own (and I do own it...on Vinyl...sorry). Its ninth track, "Song of Our So Called Friend" is no different. Okkervil River's ringleader, Will Sheff, tends to chronicle (rather eloquently) emotions/situations I have never fully experienced (mainly because I have never actually had my heart ripped out by a woman with a broken-glass glove, thrown onto burning pavement, and then trampled on by a pack of bulls...sidenote: my past girlfriends always preferred knit mittens...kidding...sort of). Anyhow, this leads us to two issues: 1) I may have completely missed the boat on this song, and 2) Any attempt at trying to re-write what I think Will Sheff was thinking would probably just cause the water to further muddy (that barely makes sense in itself). Accordingly, I will attempt to present to you my interpretation of this great song in a not-so-eloquent manner. So here goes: Boy (narrator) loves girl -> girl loves other boy (the "so-called friend" aka "the stone") -> other boy ("the stone") does not love aforementioned girl, or appear to even give a shit about her. What does this equal? Everyone is in love, no one is happy.

-

Ryan Adams & The Cardinals - "Friends"

Ryan Adams can rock, he can roll, he can honky tonk, he can even rap (although I would advise against such behavior in the future). When it comes down to it though, what Ryan Adams does best is write quiet little numbers that leave you saying, "Yep. He got it just about right. Only her name was (insert name here)." Adams plays this card flawlessly on "Friends". On this particular occasion, he is capturing the feeling of being in love with someone, but knowing (for whatever reason) you are going to lose that person. Adams impeccably conveys the bittersweet emotions of loving someone who you know will be gone tomorrow. Trying to soak up those last few moments, and push those ugly waves of loss to the back of your mind/heart so you can enjoy just one more afternoon with that person. It all has to come to an end though, and the blues can only be held off for so long. What does Adams say you will miss most though when it all comes crashing down? The only thing that can help you out in a time like that, your friends.

-

- Jameson

|

Read Users' Comments ( 0 )

As I'm going to be making a more concerted effort to update this kickass music blog at least once a week I thought I'd start it out with a few quick, notable nuggets in order to catch up. First some news:


-The Verve Reunites

It seems to be a year for great bands of the 90s to get themselves back together in order to relive past glories (smashing pumpkins), so it should be no surprise that a fantastically talented band which produced two of the best albums of the 90s (A Northern Soul, Urban Hymns) and a song which is indelibly lodged in the soft tissue of the heads of most people (Bittersweet Symphony) was getting back together. Not only is this a surprise, however, it is a full on double take moment. The Verve's split was not a harmonious affair, and in fact, they split more than once. After 'A Northern Soul' the band, which had made an amazing transition out of the shoegazing netherworld into critical darlings, split up mainly due to guitarist Nick McCabe and front-man Richard Ashcroft butting heads. Ashcroft continued writing and managed to convince McCabe to come back and work on another album, an album which became 'Urban Hymns', a beauty of a record. Soon after the album was released and the band soared through the troposphere (read up on your atmospheric layers) McCabe and Ashcroft's bickering again split the band up as McCabe left to do absolutely nothing for 9 years except a remix or two.

Ashcroft went on to a semi-successful solo career and other members of The Verve showed up in various bands and projects, including Damon Albarn's "The Good, The Bad and The Queen", but the Verve faded from the collective consciousness and all we were left with were three albums of complex beauty and some of the most innovative guitar work in decades. The last anyone had heard McCabe was a recluse and he was not on speaking terms with Ashcroft who released his poorest solo album yet in 2006.

...and then an announcement on The Verve's defunct official website and on Ashcroft's solo website declaring a new album and mini-UK tour.

It will be interesting to see what a new album sounds like as even the previous Verve album was widely seen as mostly Richard Ashcroft's first solo album backed by his Verve band-mates, but regardless of what it ends up being, it will be interesting.

Link to review of The Verve's "A Northern Soul"... check it



-Coldplay's new album has an "Hispanic Theme"

Can someone explain this to me, because I'm really struggling to grasp the concept of this. Can anyone imagine Chris Martin with a mariachi band behind him singing in Spanish? Well I can, and it's fucking hilarious, almost as hilarious as the fact that Coldplay are giving their new album an "Hispanic Theme". Is Chris Martin going to sing bad love lyrics in Spanish now? Has anyone else noticed that he can't write lyrics anymore? Is this a lot of questions for one news item?

Read the whole story here

By the way, not too shabby of a composite for 5 minutes work, eh?



Now for a few mini-reviews:


Willy Mason - If the Ocean Gets Rough

For a guy who was called this generation's Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen in various articles after his first album was released when he was 19, Willy Mason has dropped quicker than a sack of bricks. Although I tend to think he was over-hyped by the critical press who were so quick to dub him with the 'genius songwriter' tag I really fell in love with his clever turns of phrase and the simplicity of his folk/indie sound. His first album "Where the Humans Eat" was a marvelous joining of rough and simple production which perfectly matched the tone of his often-times odd voice. Sounding more like a 55 year old drunk who spent 35 years on a production line than a 19 year old from Martha's Vineyard, Mason was able charm his audience and sing tongue-twisting line's such as:

You shouldn't read Dostoevsky at your age
That and nicotine will make you pale and lean
And twist your face like Mr. Gray's
Though it just manifests in paintings that you make
Or else your eyes will stay the same
Are you that hungry for a change?

But Mason apparently didn't realize why people loved his first album because "If the Ocean Gets Rough" is a failure in just about every way. He swaps the endearing simplicity of the first album for lavish production which only serves to call attention to the fact that his voice simply isn't very strong. It also doesn't help that he seems to also have bought into the fact that he is this generation's voice, writing songs which far exceed his young grasp. The issues he attempts to grapple with and shed 'revelations' on just don't harmonize with his music, voice, and demeanor. The result is an massively uneven album of songs which don't fit together in style, content, or quality.

Go grab Mason's first album and download the only two quality songs from the new one: 'The End of the Race', which is fantastic and the album's shining moment, and 'Save Myself', which although a bit melodramatic, is also quite strong.



Paul McCartney - Memory Almost Full

It's hard to believe that McCartney could still be relevant musically or thematically, but on "Memory Almost Full" Sir Paul not only releases his best solo album in decades, he releases one of his strongest albums ever. I was blown away by the level of his songwriting, production, and the massive number of new musical ideas he presents here, especially since for the last decade he's basically given into being a caricature of himself in which he writes semi-decent songs which seem newly old.

Excluding 'gratitude' the albums only disappointing moment, "Memory Almost Full" is full of absolutely incredible pop-rock songs. "Ever Present Past" is a quick moving indie track which, if released by any person not named Paul McCartney, would be praised as a genius moment for any indie pop act. "Only Mama Knows" begins with a dramatic string section but quickly turns into one of McCartney's most rocking tune's since "Helter Skelter" and "Mister Bellamy", "House of Wax", and "Vintage Clothes" are simply three of the most sonically interesting songs I've heard in the past year.


Go buy it, you'll be incredibly surprised by its newness.


- Luke

|

Read Users' Comments ( 0 )

Didn't anybody tell you how to gracefully disappear in a room? Well, luckily the message never made it to National lead man, Matt Beringer, either. Standing at over six feet tall, Matt is a giant (literally) walking throughout the small world that is indie rock, and growing evermore (figuratively) as his band skips across the country, winning over post-college 20-somethings everywhere with his "this is your life on the way down" lyrics delivered in one of the few baritones making waves in the genre.

Standing outside the Basement waiting for the show to start, I had no idea what to expect from the venue, and a pretty good idea of what to expect from the band. I could hear the soundcheck through the heavy door, and the band sounded tight even on abbreviated renditions of their better known tracks, so I was excited to see what would happen when 350 sweaty "neo-adults" were mixed into the equation. Little did I know that the venue was literally the size of a small bar. When I walked into the Basement, I was looking around for a stairway that would lead down to where the band would be playing (a bigger room). However, I quickly saw the stage setup (no way it could have been any larger than the kitchen at either of my college houses), and realized I was in for a treat. Furthermore, there was a bar literally 20 feet from the stage, at which I set-up shop. As people started filing into the venue, I saw a mix of mostly 25-35 year olds, that I assumed were going through the same things I am going through ("Wow, so this is what the real world is like?"), and appropriately the same things Beringer likes to sing about. I also soon realized that even though I was only twenty feet from the center of the stage, it may be difficult seeing the band from my bar stool.

Nevertheless, I sat through the opening bands (Talk Demonic and Shapes & Sizes) which were entertaining enough, but really not in the same vein as the main act (not that many bands out there are....that good). When the National took the stage, I soon transferred my seat from the bar stool to the bar top, which allowed me to perfectly see the top half of the entire band (more than I usually can see at a non-balcony, general admission show), and was completely encouraged by the venue personnel. The band opened this show, like many others on this tour, with "Start A War". While this is not my favorite track on the band's new album Boxer, I think it set the tone of the entire show. The National do what they do by setting the mood. That is not to say that they cannot rock your socks off (cough*Mr. November*cough), but it wouldn't be their style to take it to the house that early in the night. The band is one of the best out there at writing songs that can come off as "mellow" on a first listen, but turn into epics once you grow into them. The term, "brooding", has never been more appropriate. "Start A War" is a microcosm of this treatment, showing the band's teeth, but only for a moment, and just about when you think the song is going to blow up, the band holds back, and takes it back down a few notches. These acts of restraint are what set the National apart from the imitators. It is somewhat similar to the friend/family member that rarely cusses. You know that even when they say "shit" they are super pissed off, and if they drop the word "fuck" you know they mean business. The National rarely takes their act above a high simmer, but when they do, it seems like a boiling cauldron about to fall off its support.

After the opener, the band went into a steady mix of songs from their last two albums (Boxer and Alligator for those keeping score at home), never even touching anything that came out before the Cherry Tree EP. As a huge fan of all three of those releases, I was completely pleased with the song selection for the show. A mid-set "Squalor Victoria" was a pleasant surprise, which in the live setting extended into an rocking conclusion, as opposed to a studio version which felt unfinished. Right after "Squalor Victoria" the band hit their stride with a rousing version of "Baby, We'll Be Fine", whose apologetic chorus never felt more poignant than in the live setting. The band continued to thrill the crowd by playing two standout Alligator tracks, "The Geese of Beverly Road" and "Daughters of the Soho Riots". Two songs which on their own would make the National worthy of one's attention. Following an ardent version of Boxer opening track, "Fake Empire", the band launched into "Mr. November", which was easily the evening's climax. As Beringer screamed the song's chorus, everyone in the bar, including the people who barely knew the song (the cute girl sitting to my right) were singing along. Hearing 350 pre-middle aged "kids" screaming "I won't fuck us over, I'm Mr. November, I'm Mr. November, I won't fuck us over" in unison with such sentiment, honestly brought me to chills, and still does as I am typing this and listening to the song.

Obviously, the band had to depart the stage after that moment of fury, and came back out to finish the show with a very mellow encore which included Boxer closing track, "Gospel" and Cherry Tree EP standout track, "About Today". Both tracks have a feeling of closure to them, so although they are on the lighter side, they felt incredibly appropriate for the moment.

I must say that a band like the National is not for everyone. In fact, I wouldn't even recommend them to a lot of people I know just because I think they are an acquired taste not to be wasted on those not willing to invest themselves in the music. Never have I felt lyrics hit me so close to the heart. Don't get me wrong, the simmering sonic palette and rhythm section of the band are not forces to be ignored, but Beringer brings it all together with his lyrics of growing up in a world that expects us to go from age 22 to 40 in the turning of one season. It is not a realistic expectation, and Beringer brings this feeling to the forefront, making post-college students everywhere feel a little more normal. See it isn't the sad-bastard aspect that we love. It's just the idea that we aren't the only sad-bastards out there that brings us some solace. Is a little condolence too much to ask for generation Y? After all, we are the heirs to this glimmering world.

|

Read Users' Comments ( 2 )

Once upon a time (read 1999-2001) Travis was in a place in which Chris Martin would be very familiar. They were a hotly tipped band with incredible success in the UK and a good measure of underground cred in the united states indie community. The release of their 1999 album "The Man Who" stands as one of the high points of the nineties British Rock scene, with marvelous hooks and a general moodiness that is hard to find anywhere else. They had everything going for them, an opening slot on Oasis' United States tour, ambition, great songs, huge buzz, and most importantly, lead singer Fran Healy's falsetto.

This past month finds Travis releasing their fifth studio album, the flat and uninspired "The Boy With No Name", completing what has been a nosedive in commercial and critical popularity. So what happened in the last 8 years that took them from nearly being one of the biggest bands in the world to a band with a song called "Selfish Jean" on its latest release?

It's an intriguing question because it allows us to see what to do and what not to do when it comes to the music business. So let's make some observations about Travis and the band they most closely resemble in success: Coldplay.

After releasing a wonderful album of unique and inspired songs which chart well in the UK and have some success in the US:

What Coldplay did: Don't get caught up with the press, get back into the studio and focus on going about your business.

What Travis did: Extra tours and shows followed the album's release and backed straight up against the recording of their next album.

The writing of the next album:

What Coldplay did: Refuse to bow to label and industry pressure to write 'poppy' hit songs and continue to develop your sound.

What Travis did: Record the album that you want (The Invisible Band) but attempt to crack the US market with three (although decent songs) obvious mass market songs.

Now this is where their career paths diverted, with Travis' album selling decently following uneven critical opinions and Coldplay skyrocketing to the top of the universe. Travis enjoyed mediocre success in the UK but were completely forgotten about in the US. After a few rough years dealing with health problems and families (drummer neil primrose broke his back diving into a pool) Travis managed to pick themselves up and release a more focused album, but "Twelve Memories" only proved to show that they didn't understand their place in music. It was charming, but they still thought they were a band that should write big sweeping epics and not what they really were: a band that writes charming love songs which later become epics. This is a problem Oasis runs into nowadays: the enigma of the epic. If you try to write one, it seems forced.

Surely, though, a band with as much natural talent as Travis would be able to build off of some of the good things they got going with "Twelve Memories" right? No, they waited four years to release their next album (the aforementioned "The Boy With No Name") and released a singles compilation in 2004 which featured the two absolute worst "recorded only for the compilation album" songs ever produced.

And so now, here we are in 2007, with a flat album that will only further sink them into the realm of musical irrelevancy. This is not to say that the album is a complete failure, the hidden track, "Big Chair", and "Closer" are classic Travis songs: quaint, lovely, and pleasing. The album as a whole, though, is a massive disappointment for a band that produced "The Man Who", or even "The Invisible Band".

|

Read Users' Comments ( 0 )

With a suggestive name like Neon Bible, it is clear that the Arcade Fire had bigger topics to tackle on the follow-up to their critically acclaimed debut, Funeral. Where Funeral focused its themes towards personal struggles in the face of adversity, Neon Bible finds Montreal's indie darlings with a slate of larger topics on their minds. Hitting on everything from a religious regime in America, to the war in iraq, and notably the American public's somewhat (eh…very) startling dependence on television (essentially all media) to tell them how and what to think (hence…Neon Bible).

Neon Bible was big from the start. The entire thing (recorded in a Canadian church – further pushing the Arcade Fire’s obsession with religion/the church) took almost three years to wrap-up. Additionally, the album came to light under somewhat cryptic promotional work, which included a tv informercial leaked onto youtube (complete with masked band-members discussing the new album) as well as an 800 number fans could call to hear snippets of the new album. On top of it all, the band played a five night stand of shows in New York City at Judson Memorial Church, to which the mayor couldn't even get a ticket to. All in all, the Arcade Fire are a bigger band than the one that recorded Funeral, and they were out to make that clear on their sophomore release.

Of course, with motifs and a build-up as large as these it is imperative that the music be laced with a similar grandiosity. Where their self-titled EP showed glimmers of hope for what the group was sonically capable of, the band's first full-length, Funeral, teetered that line between unrestrained passion and over-the-top melodrama brilliantly, drawing rave reviews from critics everywhere. Neon Bible though, leaves that line in the rafters, and shoots far above anything that anyone who did not take themselves too seriously could not even dream of pulling off. In 2006, I praised bands going above and beyond the call of duty (see: The Dears, My Chemical Romance), but those guys look like wallflowers compared the Arcade Fire. This outfit, equipped with a much larger recording budget than their last effort, raised the drama bar so high on Neon Bible, that if the next album is not simultaneously released with a movie/stage production, it will be hailed as a stagnant, or even boring (joking...but the point is made).

Neon Bible’s opening track, “Black Mirror” sweeps in with a much darker feel than the band’s prior work. Full with strings and organ, “Black Mirror” kind of sets the tone for the entire album, which feels covered by an almost ominous veil. The organ notably reappears on two other standout Neon Bible tracks; the album’s stunning first single and not so subtle anti-war/Bush track, “Intervention”, as well as the powerful “My Body Is A Cage” which feels and sounds (to an untrained ear) like it was pulled directly from The Phantom of the Opera.

While music writers were busy comparing Win Butler to David Byrne after the somewhat offbeat Funeral came out, they will all be nodding to Springsteen after listening to the ostentatious Neon Bible. Butler makes his best attempt at the Boss on several of Bible’s tracks, but most notably “(Antichrist Television Blues)”. I would argue that this track is the climax of Neon Bible, and sounds more vintage Springsteen than even Springsteen can pull off anymore. Surprisingly enough, “(Antichrist Television Blues)”, which finds Butler stringing together mouthfuls of words about a father trying to better his life via his talented daughter, over a shuffling guitar, is one of the more sparse tracks (relatively speaking) on the album, and it still manages to encompass everything the Arcade Fire were trying to bring to the table with Neon Bible. The entire album builds up to this point, and closes on a very strong note after the track, but like Act III of a four Act play, this is where it all comes together.

I have only managed to touch on a few of the standout tracks, but Neon Bible is perhaps one of the best flowing albums I have heard in a long time. From start to finish the songs all just contextually make sense, and it would be difficult to imagine them standing alone (or anywhere else for that matter). Even the epic “No Cars Go”, which was recorded on the band’s self-titled EP, sounds like it was written right along side the rest of the album’s tracks, significantly more fleshed out than its previous incarnation.

Touting songs which build upon one another like chapters in a great piece of literature, there is no better place to start with Neon Bible than at the beginning. The album really listens like a good book, and is definitely meant to be heard as one piece rather than a collection of singles. Win Butler and company have answered the call of music critics everywhere, and finally showed the world how a great new band can easily follow-up a highly decorated debut release; just make a better album.

|

Read Users' Comments ( 1 )

Certain bands, they get so scratched into our souls. We can do whatever we want, listen to a thousand other albums which are certainly worthy of our attention, but we will always come back to that handful of bands that we can't even classify ourselves as fans of anymore because we have taken our adoration so far. It's like you take possession of the band, and start to take it personally when someone even hints at them being anything less than flawless. You get to a point where you can't even distinguish between any of the band's albums because you have absorbed them in so much, and trying to choose one as your favorite, would be like trying to pick your favorite Seinfeld episode (impossible). They are all so great in their own right that by choosing one, you feel like you cheapen the rest of the band's catalogue because you are saying that this album stands above the others, when in your heart of hearts you know that your comment was simply based on how you were feeling at that particular moment, and that all of their albums could be your favorite at any given time. Yeah, it's kinda disgusting.

Anyhow, if you haven't figured it out yet, i am quickly approaching this phase with the Hold Steady, and if i am not careful, people are going to stop visiting this site because they will think it has just turned into a Hold Steady fanboy forum which will soon be changing its name to "How A Resurrection Really Feels". No fears though. I promise i will lay off the Hold Steady posts for a while after this one. Also, there has been no word (at least as of today) that they will be releasing an album in 2007, so the top tens for the year should be bereft of Craig Finn and Company. Although, no Hold Steady album released in 2007 would break their current streak of one album each year starting in 2004, so i wouldn't count them out just yet. That alone has to be one of the greatest traits of the band though. They just love doing what they do so much, that they can't stop doing it (where "doing it" = rocking out). They are in the studio every chance that they have, which is basically every minute that they aren't touring (which basically means this band is either touring or recording at all times).

As one can imagine then, when the opportunity arose to go see "America's best bar band" live in concert, there was very little that could stop me from going (although my client at work filing their 10-K late made a pretty good attempt at it). Better yet, they would be playing on St. Patrick's Day. For those who are keeping track: Hardest partying and most unabashedly catholic band i listen to, playing in (arguably) the biggest party town in Ohio, on arguably the biggest party day of the year (which just happened to fall on a Saturday). I was stoked.

For those unfamiliar with Newport Music Hall, it is more or less a large, run-down room with a sunken floor and a bar in the back. The whole place can probably hold a couple thousand people, and is a living, breathing fire-hazard. Needless to say, seeing a concert there is a pretty "quaint" experience, and i can't imagine seeing the Hold Steady in a place any larger (or nicer). Fully equipped with a perma-sticky floor (compliments of spilled beer and sweat), and a metal hand railing that left my hands smelling like old pennies for the rest of the weekend, Newport Music Hall is the quintessential "room" that bands write about playing to on their first few albums, and i can't imagine the Hold Steady would want to play a room any larger (or nicer).

As the opening band, the Thermals, played their set of politically-charged indie punk, a predominantly male army of green-clad 20-somethings filled the room. The great thing about going to a show of this size is that you know everyone in attendance is there because they love the band(s) (or know someone who does). Basically, this translates to wealth of people in the room who are there to cut loose to a band that they are used to hearing blared from the speakers of their 93' Camry on a day-to-day basis. These people are there to enjoy a band they love and they don't care what they look like, or how they act in the process. This ability to let one's guard down is a very liberating experience, and i would argue almost necessary at a Hold Steady concert (exhibit 1: Craig Finn's wild stage presence).

When the band took the stage, the place was at a low buzz, but the room felt like it was about pop. As lead-man Craig Finn casually introduced his band to the crowd and the opening guitar licks of "Stuck Between Stations" rolled out, the place swelled like the walls of a shaken-up beer can, and about 20-seconds into the opening song from Boys and Girls In America, when the drums kick in, the room literally burst with the entire crowd simultaneously going into a frenzy. From this point on until the house lights came on, the concert was an all out assault of hard-hitting guitars and drums/pounding pianos exuding into an atmosphere thick with sweat, alcohol, and adrenaline.

It is almost ridiculous how much the Hold Steady like to just play balls-out rock and roll, and seeing them live just confirms this. I can't even compare them to anyone because im not really sure if any of their contemporaries play rock and roll this unapologetically. I mean, there are certainly people out there playing rock music these days, but i just feel like the Hold Steady are doing it in a manner that would only be comparable to those who came before them. To me, they are like a mix of Zeppelins' dirtier guitar days/partying and Bruce Springsteen's energy/storytelling/piano-rock (however, not nearly as talented as either of the aforementioned - but even the fact that im making the comparison says a lot).

As the band flew through a smattering of songs from all three of their albums (drawing most heavily from their most recent release, Boys and Girls In America), the crowd screamed almost every single word right back to Craig Finn as he spit and snarled into the microphone. Spitting and snarling is really the only accurate portrayal of what Finn does though. It would be an injustice to say his lyric delivery is "spoken-word" (as that would imply lack of emotion), but it would also be misleading to suggest that Finn is "singing". This unorthodox delivery is obviously accentuated in the live-setting which finds Finn parading around the stage, popping off at the crowd like an inspired dictator, prophesizing to a group of kids who he pities and envies all at the same time. His followers just eat every word right out of his hand though, consenting to every move Finn is making, further fueling his stage presence, and leading to additional convulsive pointing and swaggering from Finn.

From start to finish the Hold Steady is out there trying to please. The band played the customary encore (which saw the band's softer underbelly momentarily exposed with "First Night", but quickly juxtaposed by the high energy "Same Kooks", which was followed up by the epic Separation Sunday closer, "How A Resurrection Really Feels"). Additionally, Minnesota's rock and roll sweethearts came out for a second encore which treated the crowd to two classic tracks from the band's 2004 debut, Almost Killed Me (album bookends "Positive Jam" and "Killer Parties"...for those keeping track). In the process, the band pulled out all the tricks you expect from an over-the-top rock and roll band (see: guitar solos on top of double-stacked amplifiers and pulls from bottles of Jim Beam between verses), and i must say it was a memorable experience to be a part of.

While i am only one year removed from college, it feels further and further away with each passing day. I feel myself slowly slipping into an adulthood that i was probably too accepting of in the beginning, and now am desperately wishing i could retreat to a time when i would be awoke by the sound of my roomates sliding down the stairs face-first (in a sleeping bag), and when Friday's toughest decision was whether or not i would be ordering from the dollar menu or going "premium" by getting a Big Mac. For me, the Hold Steady serve as a placeholder for these times. While pretty much nobody i know partied as hard as the characters in Craig Finn's tales of middle-class midwestern America, almost everybody i know would enjoy one more night out partying with their friends, and the Hold Steady can give you flashes of that. Maybe that's why i have grown so attached to this rag-tag group of guys from the twin cities. I guess you just get old enough to know, why certain bands they get so scratched into our souls.

|

Read Users' Comments ( 2 )

In my quest to come up with the ten greatest Oasis songs of all time I used only one indicator of a song's greatness: how much I like it... so maybe this list is a bit subjective, but any list any where is usually completely subjective so cut me a bit of slack. These are ten incredible songs and they are the ten (eleven?) best oasis songs in my opinion. I attempted to pick at least one song from each album, but in the end I did leave Heathen Chemistry completely off of the list, despite the fact that it is a pretty good album.

Anyways, have a read and enjoy.

10. Stand by Me

The lone representative from Be Here Now, Stand by Me continues to be the only song Oasis continues to play live off of the album. It might suffer from sharing a title with an iconic song, but the general tenderness of the song elevates it to a fantastic level with one of the most sing-along-able live choruses of any Oasis song. It perfectly captures one of Noel Gallagher’s greatest talents: the ability to transcend the audience-artist divide and make the listener feel at one with the band, the song, and the emotions present.

9. Gas Panic!

Another sole representative from an Oasis album, Standing on the Shoulder of Giants, Gas Panic! is one of the most electronically experimental Oasis songs ever produced. It is built upon the same famous “Oasis Chord” that also features in Wonderwall, D’Ya Know What I Mean, and several others, the Em-add9, though it’s presence is barely distinguishable behind the wall of intricately programmed white noise, bleeps and blips, and fantastic atmosphere. The song itself is a bit weird in a Noel Gallagher songwriting sense in that there is no bridge and really no chorus, but the song is a powerful interpretation of Noel’s cold-turkey kicking of cocaine, heroine, and acid.

8. Wonderwall/Don’t Look Back in Anger

This might be a bit of jip, counting two songs as one, but Wonderwall and Don’t Look Back in Anger, the band’s two most successful US singles, are inextricably linked in my mind and probably the minds of everyone who was between 10 and 30 in 1995/1996. We all know the songs and if either one is ever played at a bar we all sing them at the top of our lungs, even if the notes outreach us. There is really no explanation necessary as to why they’re on this top ten list, but one might be necessary to explain their low ranking, and that is simply that there are better songs… believe it.

7. Cigarettes in Hell

A b-side from the Go Let It Out single, Cigarettes in Hell, shows why Oasis is such a special band: even their b-sides are classics. Many Oasis fans and non-fans probably don’t understand why Cigarettes in Hell is this high on the list, or even on the list at all, but it really is a fantastic song which is among the most psychedelic things Oasis has ever done. It intertwines backwards guitars, a rousing Noel vocal, and a slightly modified Dear Prudence guitar solo with one of the most Rock and Roll sentiments ever expressed:

I don’t mind not feeling immortal,
Cause it aint all that as far as I can tell,
And I don’t mind not going to heaven,
As long as they’ve got cigarettes in hell.

6. Cast No Shadow

Written for Noel’s good friend, former Verve frontman, Richard Ashcroft, Cast No Shadow is a magnificent combination of slide guitar, interesting lyrical content, and a vocal delivered pitch perfectly by Liam. The shuffling drums provided by Alan White elevate the song past any previous Oasis epic/ballad by replacing Tony McCaroll’s punky inconsistency and framing the song with sentimental beautiful. It is simply a perfectly executed, gorgeous song about the difficulties of expressing oneself through song.

5. The Importance of Being Idle

One of two songs off of this list from Oasis' most recent studio effort, Don’t Believe the Truth, The Importance of Being Idle is exquisite proof that Oasis have not only lost its touch, it has actually improved and become more interesting. The song is unlike anything in the Oasis catalogue before it, a stirring, drum scuffling freak-out about laziness with more layers of interesting sound than an Earlies album. Noel’s mixed falsetto soars above the song with power and bravado, one of his best vocal efforts ever.

4. Cigarettes and Alcohol

Although the first guitar line is lifted from a T-Rex song, Cigarettes and Alcohol is the ultimate statement song for Oasis. It’s unthinkable to hear a song today off of a debut album with so much swagger, confidence, and presence. Liam’s snarling voice gives what could actually be a bit of a laugher of a song, intensity and enough attitude to knock the wind out of Johnny Rotten. How can a song with the following line not be great:

Is it worth the aggravation to find yourself a job,
When there’s nothing worth working for?
It’s a crazy situation,
But all I need is cigarettes and alcohol.

3. Guess God Thinks I’m Abel

The second song on this list off of Don’t Believe the Truth, Guess God Thinks I’m Abel is the only song on my top ten list written by Liam, although Love Like A Bomb is so close to cracking the top ten it’s crazy. Liam is no longer simply the drunken, Grizzly Adams beard wearing singer anymore, he has proven himself as a fantastic songwriter, and Guess God Thinks I’m Abel is all the proof anyone needs. It has a great groove, relying on hand percussion for its rhythm and among the best melodies in the Oasis catalogue. It is simply a show stopper.

2. Slide Away

Slide Away is the ultimate Oasis rock/epic/ballad, the kind of song Oasis will be forever remembered forever. Coming off of Definitely Maybe, Slide Away simply blows the listener away with slick guitar lines and the patented Oasis wall of guitars as well as what I think is the greatest Noel written chorus of all time. Whereas Live Forever captures the “us against the world” attitude present in many of Noel’s songs, Slide Away layers the sentiment with crying guitars and lyrics which start quite downhearted but end with the most tender and gorgeous final thoughts.

1. The Masterplan

Noel himself believes The Masterplan to be the greatest song he has ever written and I would dare to say that anyone who hears this b-side off of Wonderwall would almost assuredly agree. There is little that can be said for the song other than it is the apex of Noel’s songwriting aspirations, with the verse, bridge, and chorus combining seamlessly with Noel’s phenomenal lyrics. For a band that go from gentle to punk in a matter of seconds between tracks on an album, Noel manages to perfectly capture each aspect of the band’s personality in one phenomenal song on The Masterplan, starting out with the slow building verse and ending with the crescendo of the chorus and outro. All the while the overriding Oasis sentiments of “us against the world” and “we can do anything” are summed up in one of Noel’s best and most intense choruses:

So dance if you wanna dance
Please brother take a chance
You know they’re gonna go
Which way they wanna go to
All we know is that we don’t know
How it’s gonna be
Please brother let it be
Life on the other hand won’t make us understand
We’re all part of a masterplan

-Luke Barnard

|

Read Users' Comments ( 3 )