Radiohead-In Rainbows

After concealing themselves for ages in rural English recording studios with old producer favorite Nigel Goodrich, after posting cryptic messages on their popular blog using a cypher devised of characteristically clever graphic art, after releasing the album on the internet in what some call a revolutionary ‘pay what you want’ scale Radiohead In Rainbows is here. But what have those endearingly earnest British fellows come up with?

It’s clear from the opener ‘15 Steps’ that much like its predecessor Hail to the Thief, Radiohead has grown to a point where they are not preoccupied with completely redefining their sound every album. The song opens with a very familiar Aphex Twin/Plaid influenced techno beat and Thom Yorke questioning “How come I end up where I started?”. It’s fitting for an artist who has never concealed his ambivalence about his own abilities. Once again Radiohead faces an empty canvas which has always been a terrifying step for Yorke. Maybe trying to make the sixth solid album in a row is a little scary; most bands haven’t been able to make it that far. As the syncopated jazz guitar comes in its clear the answer is to use everything they’ve learned so far.

“Bodysnatchers” opens with a suprisingly playful fuzz-bass riff and only gets more kinetic as it grows. Kid A style synths slide in for atmosphere as they use Thief ‘back to the guitar’ aesthetic to an even greater end. Oft-bootlegged “Nude” plays out like a Jeff Buckley number minus the indulgent vocal histrionics plus the best rhythm section in the British isles. As Yorke hits the vocal crescendo it’s clear he has even more control of his voice than before.

The ten tracks never stumble as they weave through the Radiohead pallet of arpeggiated guitars, elliptical harmonic progressions, sweeping string arrangements and sparse, funky drumbeats. Even the pointlessly syncopated hi hat at the end of the album closer “Videotape” inspires repeat listens, if anything but to figure out its logic.

In Rainbows might very well trump its predecessor for all of its depth and diversity. The band has matured to a point where a Kid A era sound collage, or drum loop may have once been an experiment that warranted an entire song, it now is merely another texture to weave into an arrangement. The record is rich with subtle hooks that reward repeat listens.

****1/2

The Darjeeling Limited

The world of independent films always eagerly awaits a new entry into director Wes Anderson’s canon. His films have a Salinger-esque celebration of tormented eccentrics with messsed up families.  After his debut “Bottlerocket”, Anderson developed an endearing production aesthetic that often seems childlike in its wonder, yet masterful in its execution. All of these traits can be found in “The Darjeeling”, but that’s not to say that Anderson isn’t evolving.

The film’s premise is no shocker to an Anderson fan; three estranged brothers with a souring relationship plan a spiritual journey through India, ending at the church their long lost mother has taken residence in. Anderson succeeds in clearly illustrating the brother’s birth order without announcement. Owen Wilson plays Francis the condescending older brother on the mend from a motorcyle accident, Adrian Brody plays the angsty and recentful middle-sibling, and Jason Schwartzman is the obediant but secretive baby of the family.

The three are as prone to squabbling as they are to overindulging in pharmeceuticals. It instantly is clear that their sojourn by train is bound as much by disaster as Anderson’s obsessive sense of design. Indeed, the film at times seems to crack under the weight of the director’s eye for brilliant complimentary colors, vintage/kitschy props and masterfully executed slow motion passages. It’s as if knowing the characters is secondary to seeing them graphically illustrated in a way that appeals to they eye.

Anderson’s appreciation of the comdedically absurd seems to be mediated by a newfound interest in subtlety that often makes it difficult to gain a sense of the character’s emotional cores through all the fancy cinematography.  Maybe the elusiveness is a conscious thematic addition as the brothers bounce from one spiritual site to the next, completely unable to sit still without fighting over a belt long enough to think, let alone meditate or pray. The absence of subtitles is almost unnoticeable as we watch the characters fail to understand each other, or the places they’re visiting.

The movie only starts to hold emotional ground as the events that caused the familial split are revealed. The funeral of a stranger in a small Indian village gives the brothers cause for a much needed flashback to the death of their father and the disappearance of their mother. Only then does their trainride to reconciliation seem warranted.

***

New Toys: the American Ecstasy/Conundrum

After months of patience I am going to be a proud owner of one of these babies. I told myself I would cease the purchasing of additional guitar effects, as it is a humerously dorky addiction that usually results in loss of income, pimples, and hilariousy prog rock guitar tones. Nonetheless, I could not resist this New Zealand made overdrive that adds odd harmonics on top of your original signal. It makes guitars sound frantic and as much as I try I can’t get over agitated guitar rock.

Characteristically, I can’t merely purchase a new toy and enjoy it. Instead I see it as part of the frame work of my cultural heritage for better and worse. Do I need this piece of gadgetry? Obviously not, but I feel prompted to buy it with the sudden presence of income after a summer of poverty. Nonetheless, buying things I don’t need feels like it is essentially wasteful, and if unchecked can become a frivilous and shallow habit that coincidentally 85% of the world can’t participate in. USA!/Materialism……

Here is where it gets interesting. If materialism means an intense preoccupation with objects, America’s recent model for consumerism is anything but. Rapidly evolving fashion and technology, coupled with an almost Tokyo-like ominpresence of product placement seems to have left our cultural reflex in a state that can’t buy new things and get rid of old ones fast enough.

A true materialist would be saddened by this state of affairs. You can find them still, but most of them are a bit older. Like the guy that lovingly polishes his Firebird every weekend and drives it with one ear cocked to monitor every idiocincracy in its timing. Or, a wine enthusiast who instists you will taste the oak if you try hard enough. A Japanese tea ceremony is far more attentive to the presence of physical things then I am in any trip to Target.

So where does that leave a gear head? I suppose, when it arrives I better engage my senses to every nuance of my odd little fuzz pedal and use it attentively to agitate for many years.

PJ Harvey White Chalk

The autumnal, eerie piano march that opens PJ Harvey’s White Chalk is anything but expected. When she last left us with Uh Huh Her the Harvey model was gritty, bluesy and tough. But she’s grown a knack for dodging expectations morphing from minimal guitar rock, to electonic experimentation, to slick ethereal pop ( Rid of Me, This is Desire, Stories from…).

How then, did she dissapear and re-emerge a figure of anachronistic Victorian desperation? Polly Jean might not be able to tell herself, but the results are nontheless hypnotic. Sparse piano, autoharp and percussion adorn somber tracks rich with haunting, Dickinsonian meditations on death and isolation.

Producer Flood (U2, Smashing Pumpkins) shows an unprecedented interest in keeping things simple to fascinating results. “When Under Ether” chugs along steadily like a Radiohead Kid A track in the 19th century. The title track is concerned with the landscape and not a body outline, “These chalk hills will rot my bones.” The closest she gets to optimism is “Grow Grow Grow”, which imagines boots stamping seeds into the ground, before the ghostly waltz erupts into cathedral-high falsetto. Just in time for the harvest.

****

Oblio Duo. Nuclear War EP

I joined in as an extra pair of ears as Oblio Duo and the Archers polished off the final mix for their EP last night at the Yellow Bordello’s own Room 9 studios. They outsourced their mastering to me and I plan on going through the 7 odd tracks in the Furnace Room this weekend.

The songs are outstanding, they have all the dynamics and diversity of The Flag, with a new found continuity thanks to the Archers giving the ensemble a consistency as opposed to the collective/ guest-musician approach. I am particularly fond of the opening track which starts off as a Crazy Horse jam and somehow tansforms into a Krautrock groove similar to Tago Mago era Can.

The biggest challenge to the mastering end of the project will be getting enough sonic consistency between tracks that were played live in a variety of ensemble styles. There is the regular guitar rock plus Fender Rhodes sound that they have grown to master, but several songs feature some of the Oblio’s new pet instruments such as accordion, clarinet and stand up bass. Two of the songs drummer Will Duncan sang were cut live with vocals behind the drumset. The whole thing has a kind of spontaneous-’just toss an Sm 58 on there’ kind of sound which is refreshing, but may challenge my limited experience as a mastering engineer.

Modern man in search of publishing.

I have arrived at the opinion that blogging, while frightening has some irresistable appeal. It seems that we live in a shrinking world that can be digitally customized to express an individual who is left wanting space and quiet, and knows not what to do with either. I figure this digital island will be home to my erratic journal habits, my intense love of music/movie criticism, documenting musical experience and sharing a teacher/studio engineers anecdotes.