Some seasonal scrapings from the burnt bottom of our coffee pots. Enjoy!
• Please, please stop trying to give old Christmas carols "hip" and "cutting edge" arrangements. I'm not a purist, it just sounds like crap and never works.
• I'm really tired of indie bands all trying to look like lumberjacks. DUDE. You play a mandolin and you sing about tea cups. You're NOT a lumberjack.
• Q: What' determines if a song is considered "dated" or "definitely of its time"?
A: Whether the person you ask likes the song.
• Definition of frustration: When you go to buy a personalized keychain or mug, and they have every name under the sun, even the oddball ones, but they don't have yours. "What? They have Glenniford and Glenncort but they don't have Glenn??? What the HELL!"
• Most people believe their intelligence is "above average," which is a statistical impossibility. Also, smart elitists annoy me because I keep thinking that, metaphorically speaking, even the smartest ant on the anthill is still pretty freakin' stupid.
• Last night, my seat on the bus was broken and wouldn't recline, so I asked the bus driver to "pop-a-wheelie" the whole way home.
• Never listen to mean-spirited critics. Most of them have no vision to speak of, and since they can't see yours, they only want to tear it down.
• Dear TV and internet: Please stop asking for my "comments" or "feedback" and acting like you care what I think just because some marketing guru told you that you need to be more "interactive" in the era of social networking. You don't care what we think; I don't care what I think; and I CERTAINLY don't care what Joe Blow down the street thinks.
• Definition of irony: Michele Bachman said she wanted to return "character" to the White House. When asked twice (TWICE!) if she meant to suggest that President Obama lacks character she dodged the question while basically insisting she's a straight shooter of character who "says what she means." Okay, so if you're such a straight shooter who "says what she means" why the hell doesn't she ANSWER THE QUESTION?
• Which reminds me, candidates constantly saying that "people are sick of politics as usual" IS politics as usual.
• 2012 is almost here. Hey Def Leppard! That "Armageddon It" song ain't SO FUNNY NOW is it? IS IT?!?!?!?
Showing posts with label indie music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label indie music. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Special Guest Blog: Leo Zaccari Reviews "Crows and Doves" by Rabbit Velvet
Track Listing:
Right Now
The Sun Rose Grey
Flying Over London
Haarlem Haunt
Beautiful Things
Love Everlasting
Miles
Blue Waves
Out of the Rain
Twilight to Sunrise
Anything Else
Pearl Diver
Maybe
Rabbit Velvet is the newest project by Danielle Kimak Stauss, formerly of the band The Lost Patrol. A word of caution: this is not an album that you throw on and listen to while you clean your room or balance your checkbook. No, this is a well-crafted masterpiece that demands your undivided attention. The album unfolds like a psychological thriller; like imaginative faeries from some aquamarine universe constructing a lush heavenly daydream filled with shimmering rain storms and ruled by a stunning muse.
“Crows and Doves” opens with a blaring klaxon which creates a sense of urgency that is offset by the relaxed sweet rhythms of “Right Now”. Stauss spells out C-A-R-P-E –D-I-E-M juxtaposed with an up tempo drum beat that suggests a carefree attitude but belies a darker hidden tone. Why are we living for today? Is it because something bad is about to happen tomorrow? And did that shadow just move?
The album slithers on to “The Sun Rose Grey”, a surreal blend of Lalo Schifrinesque spy guitar entangled in a cocoon of synth and driven by relentless staccato percussion. It’s one of the many songs that you will want to enjoy again and again.
The horns of “Flying Over London” signal a departure of sound and tone. One gets the feeling of absolute freedom while soaring over a sleepy London at daybreak before the city awakens to the quiet desperation of every day life.
Another standout is “Haarlem Haunt”, a dark love song where Stauss’ vocals are a wraithlike delicacy that nimbly lure you deep into a fever dream from which you will never want to leave.
“Twilight to Sunrise” sounds like the angelic lost companion to “Days of Future Passed”, happily nestled between “Forever Afternoon” and “Time to Get Away”. Although this album does not quite have the magnificent scope of “Days”, the creative energy and the sheer opulence of Stauss’ voice makes up for the lack of an orchestra. Her vocals are pure shadowy liquid passion, like a thing alive; haunting, seductive and elusive.
There is so much to enjoy on this album. Stauss has created a brilliant work that harkens back to a time when people sat and listened to an album. So if you are looking for an album to listen to, and I mean really listen to, the way people used to sit down and listen to a vinyl record; then this album is for you.
More About Rabbit Velvet!
-Leo Zaccari teaches History at Brookdale Community College, Kean University, and Ocean County College. He once knew someone who once knew David Bowie. In his spare time he writes. A lot.
Right Now
The Sun Rose Grey
Flying Over London
Haarlem Haunt
Beautiful Things
Love Everlasting
Miles
Blue Waves
Out of the Rain
Twilight to Sunrise
Anything Else
Pearl Diver
Maybe
Rabbit Velvet is the newest project by Danielle Kimak Stauss, formerly of the band The Lost Patrol. A word of caution: this is not an album that you throw on and listen to while you clean your room or balance your checkbook. No, this is a well-crafted masterpiece that demands your undivided attention. The album unfolds like a psychological thriller; like imaginative faeries from some aquamarine universe constructing a lush heavenly daydream filled with shimmering rain storms and ruled by a stunning muse.
“Crows and Doves” opens with a blaring klaxon which creates a sense of urgency that is offset by the relaxed sweet rhythms of “Right Now”. Stauss spells out C-A-R-P-E –D-I-E-M juxtaposed with an up tempo drum beat that suggests a carefree attitude but belies a darker hidden tone. Why are we living for today? Is it because something bad is about to happen tomorrow? And did that shadow just move?
The album slithers on to “The Sun Rose Grey”, a surreal blend of Lalo Schifrinesque spy guitar entangled in a cocoon of synth and driven by relentless staccato percussion. It’s one of the many songs that you will want to enjoy again and again.
The horns of “Flying Over London” signal a departure of sound and tone. One gets the feeling of absolute freedom while soaring over a sleepy London at daybreak before the city awakens to the quiet desperation of every day life.
Another standout is “Haarlem Haunt”, a dark love song where Stauss’ vocals are a wraithlike delicacy that nimbly lure you deep into a fever dream from which you will never want to leave.
“Twilight to Sunrise” sounds like the angelic lost companion to “Days of Future Passed”, happily nestled between “Forever Afternoon” and “Time to Get Away”. Although this album does not quite have the magnificent scope of “Days”, the creative energy and the sheer opulence of Stauss’ voice makes up for the lack of an orchestra. Her vocals are pure shadowy liquid passion, like a thing alive; haunting, seductive and elusive.
There is so much to enjoy on this album. Stauss has created a brilliant work that harkens back to a time when people sat and listened to an album. So if you are looking for an album to listen to, and I mean really listen to, the way people used to sit down and listen to a vinyl record; then this album is for you.
More About Rabbit Velvet!
-Leo Zaccari teaches History at Brookdale Community College, Kean University, and Ocean County College. He once knew someone who once knew David Bowie. In his spare time he writes. A lot.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Reflections on Songwriting, #2: Destroy All Instruments!!!
Okay, that title might be a little extreme, even though I know a lot of people would like me to destroy MY instruments, but there is a certain wisdom to be found in those words. In fact, it reminds me of some of the best songwriting advice I ever heard, which came from none other than Barry Gibb of The Bee Gees. (Not directly, mind you, it's not like Barry and I sit around shooting the sh*t about how to groom your chest hair, or anything.)
Now, I know some people might scoff at The Bee Gees for their disco tunes, but those people are sorely misguided because The Bee Gees are, in fact, extremely gifted songwriters who have written some of the most diverse, enduring and popular tunes of the last 40 plus years. Not only that, they can wear the sh*t out of white pants suits.
Anyway, what Barry said, and I agree with from personal experience, is that songwriters should, from time to time, write away from their instruments. What this means is it's a good idea to get away from your favorite composing tool and try to come up with melodies, rhythms, and harmonies in your head, if possible.
While this may sound difficult - especially if you're in the early stages of songwriting - it does help to free you up from learned or ingrained patterns of behavior and keeps you from falling into a rut. For example, if you write on the piano, you may find yourself always starting with an a minor chord and then going to a G major chord immediately after. If you write in your head, you may surprise yourself and shift to a g minor chord or something equally adventurous. Or, you might do six bars of a melody before changing the harmony, instead of your usual four or two.
Similarly, you can try writing on a different instrument than you're accustomed, if you are able to do so. Hell, sometimes it's more exciting to write on another instrument that you DON'T know how to play because it often takes you places you would never go once you get a little theory in you.
So try stepping away from your instrument to write; don't let it be a songwriting crutch. Try writing in your head riding the bus to work one day or late at night lying in bed (quietly of course, so you don't disturb your significant other). You may actually surprise yourself and come up with something innovative that you really like. Plus, you can always go back to your instrument of choice and fill in the blanks if you get stuck. That is, unless you took the first line of this blog to heart and threw your guitar in the fireplace or something...
Now, I know some people might scoff at The Bee Gees for their disco tunes, but those people are sorely misguided because The Bee Gees are, in fact, extremely gifted songwriters who have written some of the most diverse, enduring and popular tunes of the last 40 plus years. Not only that, they can wear the sh*t out of white pants suits.
Anyway, what Barry said, and I agree with from personal experience, is that songwriters should, from time to time, write away from their instruments. What this means is it's a good idea to get away from your favorite composing tool and try to come up with melodies, rhythms, and harmonies in your head, if possible.
While this may sound difficult - especially if you're in the early stages of songwriting - it does help to free you up from learned or ingrained patterns of behavior and keeps you from falling into a rut. For example, if you write on the piano, you may find yourself always starting with an a minor chord and then going to a G major chord immediately after. If you write in your head, you may surprise yourself and shift to a g minor chord or something equally adventurous. Or, you might do six bars of a melody before changing the harmony, instead of your usual four or two.
Similarly, you can try writing on a different instrument than you're accustomed, if you are able to do so. Hell, sometimes it's more exciting to write on another instrument that you DON'T know how to play because it often takes you places you would never go once you get a little theory in you.
So try stepping away from your instrument to write; don't let it be a songwriting crutch. Try writing in your head riding the bus to work one day or late at night lying in bed (quietly of course, so you don't disturb your significant other). You may actually surprise yourself and come up with something innovative that you really like. Plus, you can always go back to your instrument of choice and fill in the blanks if you get stuck. That is, unless you took the first line of this blog to heart and threw your guitar in the fireplace or something...
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Original Song Demo: "Tell Me" by Glenn (Featuring Chloe)
Hey, it's a "new" demo from Glenn Page Music! This time Glenn goes into the vaults and pulls out a little ditty called "Tell Me." This baby goes back to 2000 or so, and features some blood-curdling falsetto notes that would make Roy Orbison jump out of his grave and come after Glenn with a machete. (Thank goodness he's dead and all!) Meanwhile, Chloe the Chihuahua once again provides excellent accompaniment on the "silenceaphone," a very rare and small norwegian wind instrument.
Listen and watch here:
Listen and watch here:
Friday, November 21, 2008
Signs That You and Your Band Blow, Part 1
Does your music suck? If you’re a serious musician, you’ve probably asked yourself this question at least once in your life. That is, unless you’re an arrogant tool like the dudes in Oasis or something. (They don’t have to ask that question because they know the Beatles and the Kinks don’t suck.) With that in mind, I’ve taken it upon myself to draw up a handy-dandy cheat sheet for determining whether you are flirting with musical suck-osity. See that? I’ve got your backs, folks.
I would like to stress, however, that these signs are not across-the-board or conclusive. It is possible to possess one or more of these qualities and STILL be in a good band. So please don’t send me angry missives trying to prove that you - or famous band X – are utterly awesome and really do rule the cosmos despite an unhealthy predilection for zebra striped codpieces and WhiteSnake covers (or whatever).
Consider this a general guideline! If you find yourself nodding your head and chuckling, “That’s sooooo me” to more than two things on the list, you may want to take a moment to gaze pensively in the mirror, look deep within your soul, and honestly ask yourself, “Do I suck big ass?” If the answer is a resounding, “Yeah, you kinda do, a-hole,” then it may be time to seriously rethink your career path.
So, without further ado, here are some of the more glaring signs of suckiness to watch out for, if you can see anything at all looking through those silly fake emo glasses you’ve been wearing.
1) When people ask what type of music your band plays, you answer (more or less), “We play good old-fashioned, no-holds-barred, back-to-basics rock and roll.” For some odd reason, “no-holds-barred, back-to-basics rock and roll” always seems to sound like crappy Kiss outtakes.
2) Someone in your band smells like an odd mix of SlimJims and patchouli and has actually “followed” another band around the country for more than four shows on one tour. Extra points if he had a parent dying in the hospital at the same time.
3) You appear on the cover of Rolling Stone with your lead singer lunging at the camera while making a screaming face. The headline proclaims, “Real Rock Is Back…Honest! We Mean It This Time!” As usual, no one is convinced.
4) The words “astronomy,’ “dilettante,” or “extrapolate” are featured prominently in the chorus of your first single. Extra points if you try to rhyme the word “dilettante” with “boysenberry croissant.”
5) More than one out of every 100 of your songs in your repertoire is in a time signature other than (straightforward rock rhythm) 4/4. Corollary: If you have less than 5,000 songs total and more than even one of them is in the tricky 7/4 time signature (and you don't have the word "Combo" or "Trio" in your band name) you’re teetering dangerously close to wearing an invisible sign that says, “I need to be taken out back and beaten with a rusty pipe.”
6) Your band photo consists of four portly dudes decked out in black clothes and scowling at nothing in particular. At least one band member’s arms are firmly crossed because he’s pissed off about something (either the impending fiery Apocalypse or he’s gotta pull a double shift at KFC). Extra points if your band features a “hot chick” (hot relative to the rest of the band, that is) looming in the foreground and decked out in an all-leather bodice she bought on sale at Hot Topic. Extra, extra points if any of these words appear within the first 5.6 seconds of every song you play: dark, black onyx, swords, bloodletting, tormented, or Elizabeth Bathory. In fact, it’s probably a safe bet that I just named the first 6 songs on your debut CD.
7) Your band name is cloying, twee, or trying WAY too hard to be clever. If your name is anything like “Planes Have Left the Aquarium,” “The 16th Century Basket Weaver Convention,” or “Does Mirabelle Adore Meringue?” you’re way overdue to rethink your strategy. If you read this and immediately started wondering if those are fake band names you might be able to use, it’s time to hang up the instruments forever.
8) Your album was made after 1999 and it boasts (ironically or otherwise) the 50’s/60’s “retro look.” That is, all the songs are listed on the cover along with the words “in glorious hi-fidelity stereo.” Likewise, the band members are all wearing tacky bowling shirts and piled in a phone booth with hula hoops around their necks (or something). This was really cute and clever for awhile there in the 90’s, but isn’t it sort of overdone at this point?
9) During rehearsal, you’ve actually reprimanded your guitarist for sounding “too much like the Clash, and not enough like Nickelback.” Earn extra points if no one busts out in convulsive fits of laughter after these words are uttered.
10) You’re a female pop star who seems hell-bent on telling your ex how you don’t need him, and you’re gonna key his car, or blow up his house, or engineer a bio-virus to kill every last descendant of his loins, and oh-boy-oh boy-he-BETTER-be-sorry-he-messed-with-you! Like anything else, the “spurned female anthem” was kinda novel at one time, but now it’s way played out. My reaction whenever I hear these songs is “Me thinks thou doest protest too much!” After all, nothing sounds more needy than someone who has to loudly announce she doesn’t need her ex, right? If you were really over it, wouldn’t you spend your time singing about something else, like floor tiles? Trust me, that guy you’re so mad at isn’t ruing the day he met you. More likely he’s taking some perverse delight in the fact he messed you up so bad you’ve gotta sing a “revenge” song on the radio while he practices getting it on with his new girlfriend in time to the chorus.
11) You still think flipping the bird to photographers makes you “edgy” and “rebellious,” something it clearly hasn’t been since, oh, November 1979. You’re not Johnny Cash or a member of the Sex Pistols; move on. (Avril Lavigne, are you taking notes?)
12) People say you sing “real country” and epitomize what “country is all about,” and yet somehow your latest single sounds like an over-blown Diane Warren/Chicago power ballad from 20 years ago, albeit sung with a Southern accent and featuring an extremely obnoxious lap steel guitar.
13) Your record label re-releases your first CD before your second one has even hit the shops. Nothing screams “Let’s milk this cash cow one last time before the public wises up and realizes that he sucks big time” like the cynical reissue that materializes before most people have even gotten past track 5 on the original CD. Of course, the only bonus material on your “deluxe” package is a crappy demo-that-should-have-remained-a-demo and a lame video that everyone has already watched a billion times on youtube.
14) Your “indie” sound is so anemic and whispery that even Starbucks has to pass on it as being “too soft.”
15) You think Nirvana “saved” rock and roll.
16) You and your band spend roughly 2 hours fixing your hair and about 2 seconds tuning your instruments. (Thanks to our friend Nick over at http://www.frigginfabulousradio.com/ for this one.)
17) You’re appearing at venues that hold a maximum of 12 people – as long as everyone is anorexic and holding their breath – and you’re still smacking the hands of people in the front row like you’re Radiohead playing their final encore at MSG. You and your “fans” (aka friends who got roped into coming) are all gonna be standing at the bar 5 minutes after the show anyway; if you really want to touch their hands I’m sure you can do it then.
18) You think that making anything “lo-fi” automatically gives it a DIY charm that can overcome your same-two-chords-every-time songs, ironically monotonous singing voice, and painfully “clever” lyrics that compare love to shopping in a thrift store, or some such bullsh*t.
19) You write overwrought, melodramatic lyrics about spiritual longing and man’s isolation in the universe. Extra points if you mention dolphins. (Oops.)
20) You’ve put out 5 albums and they all sound exactly the same (and your name is not The Ramones or AC/DC). However, on your most recent album, you added a 5 second string intro to one track, a backwards guitar solo on another, and 10 seconds of yodeling to the final song. Other than that, it’s musically identical to everything else in your oeuvre. As a result of your superficial additions, the major critics have hailed you as “expanding your sound,” “growing by leaps and bounds,” and “exhibiting a startling new maturity.” In reality, the Beatles grew more between writing lines 1 and 2 of “Love Me Do” than you’ve grown in the past 25 years.
Mind you, these traits are not exhaustive… so don’t breathe a sigh of relief just because you don’t recognize yourself on the list! There’s still a chance you’re dangling directly above the gaping maw of musical mediocrity and it’s hungrily waiting to slurp you down, pseudo-goth eyeliner and all. However, after reading over this list you will hopefully begin to glean a general sense of what constitutes full-blown awfulness (basically, anything I don’t like, it would seem) and strategically avoid those pitfalls in the future.
Or don’t. Hell, you’ll probably be more successful if you DO posses all these traits. Look where it got hacks like Chris Daughtry and Green Day. I guess you need to ask yourself, what’s more important: making billions of dollars and having millions of adoring fans, or winning the approval of some curmudgeonly online a-hole with a blog no one reads?
I think the choice is clear.
I would like to stress, however, that these signs are not across-the-board or conclusive. It is possible to possess one or more of these qualities and STILL be in a good band. So please don’t send me angry missives trying to prove that you - or famous band X – are utterly awesome and really do rule the cosmos despite an unhealthy predilection for zebra striped codpieces and WhiteSnake covers (or whatever).
Consider this a general guideline! If you find yourself nodding your head and chuckling, “That’s sooooo me” to more than two things on the list, you may want to take a moment to gaze pensively in the mirror, look deep within your soul, and honestly ask yourself, “Do I suck big ass?” If the answer is a resounding, “Yeah, you kinda do, a-hole,” then it may be time to seriously rethink your career path.
So, without further ado, here are some of the more glaring signs of suckiness to watch out for, if you can see anything at all looking through those silly fake emo glasses you’ve been wearing.
1) When people ask what type of music your band plays, you answer (more or less), “We play good old-fashioned, no-holds-barred, back-to-basics rock and roll.” For some odd reason, “no-holds-barred, back-to-basics rock and roll” always seems to sound like crappy Kiss outtakes.
2) Someone in your band smells like an odd mix of SlimJims and patchouli and has actually “followed” another band around the country for more than four shows on one tour. Extra points if he had a parent dying in the hospital at the same time.
3) You appear on the cover of Rolling Stone with your lead singer lunging at the camera while making a screaming face. The headline proclaims, “Real Rock Is Back…Honest! We Mean It This Time!” As usual, no one is convinced.
4) The words “astronomy,’ “dilettante,” or “extrapolate” are featured prominently in the chorus of your first single. Extra points if you try to rhyme the word “dilettante” with “boysenberry croissant.”
5) More than one out of every 100 of your songs in your repertoire is in a time signature other than (straightforward rock rhythm) 4/4. Corollary: If you have less than 5,000 songs total and more than even one of them is in the tricky 7/4 time signature (and you don't have the word "Combo" or "Trio" in your band name) you’re teetering dangerously close to wearing an invisible sign that says, “I need to be taken out back and beaten with a rusty pipe.”
6) Your band photo consists of four portly dudes decked out in black clothes and scowling at nothing in particular. At least one band member’s arms are firmly crossed because he’s pissed off about something (either the impending fiery Apocalypse or he’s gotta pull a double shift at KFC). Extra points if your band features a “hot chick” (hot relative to the rest of the band, that is) looming in the foreground and decked out in an all-leather bodice she bought on sale at Hot Topic. Extra, extra points if any of these words appear within the first 5.6 seconds of every song you play: dark, black onyx, swords, bloodletting, tormented, or Elizabeth Bathory. In fact, it’s probably a safe bet that I just named the first 6 songs on your debut CD.
7) Your band name is cloying, twee, or trying WAY too hard to be clever. If your name is anything like “Planes Have Left the Aquarium,” “The 16th Century Basket Weaver Convention,” or “Does Mirabelle Adore Meringue?” you’re way overdue to rethink your strategy. If you read this and immediately started wondering if those are fake band names you might be able to use, it’s time to hang up the instruments forever.
8) Your album was made after 1999 and it boasts (ironically or otherwise) the 50’s/60’s “retro look.” That is, all the songs are listed on the cover along with the words “in glorious hi-fidelity stereo.” Likewise, the band members are all wearing tacky bowling shirts and piled in a phone booth with hula hoops around their necks (or something). This was really cute and clever for awhile there in the 90’s, but isn’t it sort of overdone at this point?
9) During rehearsal, you’ve actually reprimanded your guitarist for sounding “too much like the Clash, and not enough like Nickelback.” Earn extra points if no one busts out in convulsive fits of laughter after these words are uttered.
10) You’re a female pop star who seems hell-bent on telling your ex how you don’t need him, and you’re gonna key his car, or blow up his house, or engineer a bio-virus to kill every last descendant of his loins, and oh-boy-oh boy-he-BETTER-be-sorry-he-messed-with-you! Like anything else, the “spurned female anthem” was kinda novel at one time, but now it’s way played out. My reaction whenever I hear these songs is “Me thinks thou doest protest too much!” After all, nothing sounds more needy than someone who has to loudly announce she doesn’t need her ex, right? If you were really over it, wouldn’t you spend your time singing about something else, like floor tiles? Trust me, that guy you’re so mad at isn’t ruing the day he met you. More likely he’s taking some perverse delight in the fact he messed you up so bad you’ve gotta sing a “revenge” song on the radio while he practices getting it on with his new girlfriend in time to the chorus.
11) You still think flipping the bird to photographers makes you “edgy” and “rebellious,” something it clearly hasn’t been since, oh, November 1979. You’re not Johnny Cash or a member of the Sex Pistols; move on. (Avril Lavigne, are you taking notes?)
12) People say you sing “real country” and epitomize what “country is all about,” and yet somehow your latest single sounds like an over-blown Diane Warren/Chicago power ballad from 20 years ago, albeit sung with a Southern accent and featuring an extremely obnoxious lap steel guitar.
13) Your record label re-releases your first CD before your second one has even hit the shops. Nothing screams “Let’s milk this cash cow one last time before the public wises up and realizes that he sucks big time” like the cynical reissue that materializes before most people have even gotten past track 5 on the original CD. Of course, the only bonus material on your “deluxe” package is a crappy demo-that-should-have-remained-a-demo and a lame video that everyone has already watched a billion times on youtube.
14) Your “indie” sound is so anemic and whispery that even Starbucks has to pass on it as being “too soft.”
15) You think Nirvana “saved” rock and roll.
16) You and your band spend roughly 2 hours fixing your hair and about 2 seconds tuning your instruments. (Thanks to our friend Nick over at http://www.frigginfabulousradio.com/ for this one.)
17) You’re appearing at venues that hold a maximum of 12 people – as long as everyone is anorexic and holding their breath – and you’re still smacking the hands of people in the front row like you’re Radiohead playing their final encore at MSG. You and your “fans” (aka friends who got roped into coming) are all gonna be standing at the bar 5 minutes after the show anyway; if you really want to touch their hands I’m sure you can do it then.
18) You think that making anything “lo-fi” automatically gives it a DIY charm that can overcome your same-two-chords-every-time songs, ironically monotonous singing voice, and painfully “clever” lyrics that compare love to shopping in a thrift store, or some such bullsh*t.
19) You write overwrought, melodramatic lyrics about spiritual longing and man’s isolation in the universe. Extra points if you mention dolphins. (Oops.)
20) You’ve put out 5 albums and they all sound exactly the same (and your name is not The Ramones or AC/DC). However, on your most recent album, you added a 5 second string intro to one track, a backwards guitar solo on another, and 10 seconds of yodeling to the final song. Other than that, it’s musically identical to everything else in your oeuvre. As a result of your superficial additions, the major critics have hailed you as “expanding your sound,” “growing by leaps and bounds,” and “exhibiting a startling new maturity.” In reality, the Beatles grew more between writing lines 1 and 2 of “Love Me Do” than you’ve grown in the past 25 years.
Mind you, these traits are not exhaustive… so don’t breathe a sigh of relief just because you don’t recognize yourself on the list! There’s still a chance you’re dangling directly above the gaping maw of musical mediocrity and it’s hungrily waiting to slurp you down, pseudo-goth eyeliner and all. However, after reading over this list you will hopefully begin to glean a general sense of what constitutes full-blown awfulness (basically, anything I don’t like, it would seem) and strategically avoid those pitfalls in the future.
Or don’t. Hell, you’ll probably be more successful if you DO posses all these traits. Look where it got hacks like Chris Daughtry and Green Day. I guess you need to ask yourself, what’s more important: making billions of dollars and having millions of adoring fans, or winning the approval of some curmudgeonly online a-hole with a blog no one reads?
I think the choice is clear.
Friday, December 28, 2007
The Death of Music, Part 2: Give Me a Hook, Dammit!!!
Everyone who knows me knows I’m a big fan of “hooks.” No, I’m not talking about women with hooks for hands, although they’re pretty nifty too. What I’m actually talking about are “hooks” in popular music. That is, short, usually recurring, motifs/riffs/patterns which draw the listener in with “catchiness,” memorability, novelty, and/or simplicity. (I refuse to call songs with a lot of hooks “ear candy,” by the way. It sounds too much like empty calories, and a song doesn’t have to be “empty” just because it has hooks.)
Beneath the hooks, I like there to be hidden layers of depth. Not heavy-handed depth, mind you, but something of substance (musically or lyrically) that brings me back to the song for more than one or two listens. It’s rather easy for a band with a mild degree of competence and craft to front-load their songs with potent hooks, but creating a catchy song that’s rich enough and layered enough to reward hundreds of replays is much harder to do.
I guess you can think of a good song like a good date: The fun and excitement (the hooks) get you interested in the first place, and the substance keeps you coming back for more.
When I write my own songs, I think the same way. After all, who the hell gives a crap what I have to say? Ninety percent of you probably already stopped reading this article when my hook joke in the first paragraph bombed. There’s gotta be something in it for people. People don’t “owe” me their undivided attention. So, I try to include hooks in my songs so they’ll care enough to investigate the “meaning” underneath. That way, everybody wins. I’ve communicated something I care about, and the listener (hopefully) gets their ears AND mind aroused.
As a result of this philosophy, I have very little tolerance for songwriters who don’t bother to try and entice the listener. Or worse, don’t know how to, so they obfuscate matters by throwing in any one or more of the following: unwieldy lyrics, overly slick production, overly stripped-down production, meandering melodies, pointless solos, crazy sound effects, and/or pretentious, “progressive” chords.
I don’t care how “avant-garde” you’re supposed to be. Unless you’re talking about free form jazz, I shouldn’t be listening to a song for 3 minutes and then asking, “Where the hell is this thing GOING?” which unfortunately happens with alarming frequency. The answer to “where it’s going” is simple: It’s going straight into the used-bin at the local pretentious indie record store. You know, the one that told me how great this song and album were two years ago, but strangely can't move any of the 587 used copies they're selling for a buck a pop this week.
A lot of songwriters think their “message” or their “depth” or their “innovation” will carry the day. Look, if your “message” is that powerful on its own, go write a book or something. Otherwise, put a damn hook in the song.
I’m also NOT saying every song has to be 3:20 long, packed with hooks like stuffing in a Christmas turkey, and arranged in a verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus format. Some of my favorite songs of all time build gradually and reveal their mysteries over an extended period of time. I also demand a good deal of originality in presentation. But Krist, you need to give me something to grab onto, something to pique my interest, SOMETHING that makes me want to keep listening. 8 minutes of some overly-pale “alt rocker” plinking away at random notes on his new Steinway as a metaphor for his ambivalence about a post-modern universe ain’t cutting it anymore. It was nice at one time, but not anymore.
The bottom line is, I don’t want to hear some guy who sounds like he can barely be bothered waking up to sing his own song trotting out whiny, ponderous lyrics about old cars or weather-beaten barns or shadows that stretch like bony fingers or some such horseradish. Wow, man, you're so "real" and "human" and "rootsy" and "daring."
Screw that; just give me a hook, damn it!
Beneath the hooks, I like there to be hidden layers of depth. Not heavy-handed depth, mind you, but something of substance (musically or lyrically) that brings me back to the song for more than one or two listens. It’s rather easy for a band with a mild degree of competence and craft to front-load their songs with potent hooks, but creating a catchy song that’s rich enough and layered enough to reward hundreds of replays is much harder to do.
I guess you can think of a good song like a good date: The fun and excitement (the hooks) get you interested in the first place, and the substance keeps you coming back for more.
When I write my own songs, I think the same way. After all, who the hell gives a crap what I have to say? Ninety percent of you probably already stopped reading this article when my hook joke in the first paragraph bombed. There’s gotta be something in it for people. People don’t “owe” me their undivided attention. So, I try to include hooks in my songs so they’ll care enough to investigate the “meaning” underneath. That way, everybody wins. I’ve communicated something I care about, and the listener (hopefully) gets their ears AND mind aroused.
As a result of this philosophy, I have very little tolerance for songwriters who don’t bother to try and entice the listener. Or worse, don’t know how to, so they obfuscate matters by throwing in any one or more of the following: unwieldy lyrics, overly slick production, overly stripped-down production, meandering melodies, pointless solos, crazy sound effects, and/or pretentious, “progressive” chords.
I don’t care how “avant-garde” you’re supposed to be. Unless you’re talking about free form jazz, I shouldn’t be listening to a song for 3 minutes and then asking, “Where the hell is this thing GOING?” which unfortunately happens with alarming frequency. The answer to “where it’s going” is simple: It’s going straight into the used-bin at the local pretentious indie record store. You know, the one that told me how great this song and album were two years ago, but strangely can't move any of the 587 used copies they're selling for a buck a pop this week.
A lot of songwriters think their “message” or their “depth” or their “innovation” will carry the day. Look, if your “message” is that powerful on its own, go write a book or something. Otherwise, put a damn hook in the song.
I’m also NOT saying every song has to be 3:20 long, packed with hooks like stuffing in a Christmas turkey, and arranged in a verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus format. Some of my favorite songs of all time build gradually and reveal their mysteries over an extended period of time. I also demand a good deal of originality in presentation. But Krist, you need to give me something to grab onto, something to pique my interest, SOMETHING that makes me want to keep listening. 8 minutes of some overly-pale “alt rocker” plinking away at random notes on his new Steinway as a metaphor for his ambivalence about a post-modern universe ain’t cutting it anymore. It was nice at one time, but not anymore.
The bottom line is, I don’t want to hear some guy who sounds like he can barely be bothered waking up to sing his own song trotting out whiny, ponderous lyrics about old cars or weather-beaten barns or shadows that stretch like bony fingers or some such horseradish. Wow, man, you're so "real" and "human" and "rootsy" and "daring."
Screw that; just give me a hook, damn it!
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