The Pitchfork Project #006: Relaxation of the Asshole

For such a fickle website, Pitchfork’s rating of Bob Pollard’s Relaxation of the Asshole (a 10.0 or 0.0) may come across as neutral. I’m guessing though, the rating comes not from neutrality but from sheer confusion. It’s accurate too. The album is barely listenable, yet absolutely terrific.

Listening to RotA was pretty awesome for me, but I *like* GBV[1] and What They Stand For. GBV is a band from Dayton, Ohio and you’ll know this when you listen. Almost certainly Bob will say “We’re from Dayton” (as he does several times in RotA). But it’s also evident in the songwriting. Bob, as a lyricist, uses a kitschy, low-brow, Midwestern vernacular and through this vocabulary, weaves nostalgic but unspecific imagery. This is the success of GBV. When other bands write songs that recall high-school or better times it’s laughably unbelievable and contrived, but when GBV does it, it not only seems sincere, but prompts the listener to “…’member when” right along.

Bob Pollard is a raspberry in the face of relevance.

There’s not a music critic on earth that can question the authenticity of what Bob Pollard has done. His work is the purest example of American rock-and-roll in the last 30 years. There are countless stories of the lore surrounding GBV[2], but ‘getting it’ is a matter of realizing that there is nothing to get. It is literally five guys who went to high school together, from Dayton Ohio playing rock and roll music, smoking cigarettes, and pounding Miller lights.

That’s where this album comes in.[3]

This album, though it’s only Bob solo, is everything about Guided By Voices that isn’t on the records. It’s the in between. It’s where one can understand that there is “nothing to get.”

It’s just stage banter. Drunken stage banter.

So that’s why it’s kind of unlistenable. It’s purely data, collected and sorted. It’s the Similarion of the Guided By Voices epic. Pitchfork’s rating is in a way…dead on (though I’d rather an “N/A” than a 10/0).

Relaxation of the Asshole, by its own existence proves it’s worth.

---

[1] Technicalities aside, “GBV” “Guided by Voices” and “Bob Pollard” are going to be used interchangeably…

[2] http://www.popmatters.com/pm/feature/124274-new-theories-of-everything-prompted-by-guided-by-voices-appreciation/

The Pitchfork Project #005: OK Computer

OK Computer is okay.

It’s really tough to seriously listen to this one after seriously listening to Kid A. From my 2010 ears, it just doesn’t seem

….relevant.

Typing that statement feels blasphemous. After all, Radiohead is the one band that defies the hip preference for the undiscovered. Radiohead can do no wrong, even in the ears of the most critical of listeners. But even after noting all of this, subjectively I state that OK Computer is simply okay.

But maybe from a more objective, contextual view, OK Computer is better than it actually is. When it was released Spice by the Spice Girls was the no. 1 album. Earlier that year Tragic Kingdom held the top spot. Off the radar, 1997 also showed us Third Eye Blind, Be Here Now, Perfect from Now On, Mag Earwig, The Lonesome Crowded West, ….etc. etc. (some pretty good stuff there really...). But while much of the alternative distills its sound into something more cohesive (the neo-classic rock of post-grunge champions MTV whining about being lonely at 3am) Radiohead diversifies it’s sound and influences.

At the surface the grunge is still there and that’s what bothers me. The solid-state crunch of the guitars lacks the purposefulness which is now a Radiohead essential. OK Computer is essentially a post-grunge album in the direct definition; Radiohead has mastered being a grungy rock band.

But through boredom comes innovation. “Subterranean Homesick Alien” famously and deliberately takes cues from Miles Davis’ Fusion sounds, but remains uncomfortably organic. Opposite this, the Steven Hawking vocals on “Fitter Happier” sidestep novelty and seem oddly emotional. Yorke’s lyrics edge away from standard rock (“don’t leave me high / dry”) and move toward cryptic metaphor (or perhaps I should say York seems to “talk in math”).[1]

OK Computer, when considered in this context, is a really good album. It’s essentially Radiohead’s senior-year bowl game performance. It’s an impressive showing of what they’ve learned and looking back shows an optimistic nostalgia for how good they may be in the future. They’re still a band that plays grungy songs, but they’re a band that plays really good grungy songs. In the context of Radiohead history, the anxiety to get to the next thing seems evident. (when can we stop calling them “songs”…?)

Maybe the album is more than okay.

I’m curious to hear from those of you who were “paying attention” when this album came out. What did you think? Was it groundbreaking? What else were you listening to?

I was about to go into the 6^th grade…needless to say, my sense of music appreciation was a ways off.

---

[1] What makes OK Computer a bit tough to listen to is the aural reminder that Yorke’s lyrical crypticism has been absolutely killed 15 years later by Muse, who has made an album that’s not quite as good as OK Computer several times over the last 5 years and has been touted as a groundbreaking for this feat. Even if they were not at least 15 years out of relevance, they would still be a mediocre band.

The Pitchfork Project #004: Kid A

Radiohead is an interesting band. They’re a band that seemingly can do no wrong. They’ve had surprising longevity, successful solo careers, and are the only band I can think of that’s successfully (in terms of critics and fans) changed its style in a meaningful manner. When I listen to the work and think about the band, it feels like I’m observing an artist’s work. There’s a clear intent and a clear inspiration. When Radiohead talks about taking influence from jazz, they legitimately mean it. This is important to me…I like musicians who pave new ground but hold precedent in highest regard. After all, that’s the way it’s always been done…we learn from those who go before.

What’s really interesting about Radiohead is their stylistic change. They started an odd grunge-ish band, taking the name from a pretty obscure Talking Heads song and singing mopey songs like “Creep.” This is important to note as the first notes of “Everything in its Right Place” collide somewhere between your eyes and you realize that this isn’t the 90’s Radiohead.
Kid A is fantastic [And if you haven’t listened to it in high-quality, get some FLAC files and some nice headphones and make it happen]. It’s a 10.0 album by Pitchfork (with some fantastic metaphor…I don’t know about the “still birth” one, but the one that sticks out to me regarding aquariums and construction paper). What’s notable in the rating though isn’t the supposed perfection…it’s not that this is just a ‘perfect’ album but it’s a ‘perfect’ album by Radiohead standards. In college, when you took that class with the hard-ass professor where straight-A students got A’s but “nobody gets an A+” this is that A+ (puns intended). It’s really good music and it’s also really important music. Listening to it 10 years after, there’s a point of pride in this coming-of-(age?). Kid A is that album Radiohead had been trying to write and finally did.

As EIIRP starts and your mind twists with the harmony and Thom’s really nice vocals come in as if they’re in the room, note that the last album by these dudes was the one with Karma Police on it. Still mopey song-based grunge-ish rock. This is not like that. This is the year 2000. There are no songs. This is no recognizable, consistent instrumentation. New rules. That’s what’s great. I could punch these out on every song, but that’d be silly. There aren’t any points that I’d consider out of place.

But the old rules still come into effect. R’head plays some really nice parts…there’s a jam at the end of “Optimistic” that I really like and of anything, there are some really fantastic bass guitar lines that sound like a bass guitar…where it otherwise would have been easy to play the synth card (“Morning Bell” for one). Listening to this, it all feels purposeful and thought out and heartfelt. “National Anthem” is great for moving from the electronic “Everything…” to a free-for-all jazz solo session (the stuff from the bebop-ist of be-bop) which sits in a cloudy and noisy mix…everything feels uncomfortable (not in it’s right place perhaps…).

Enough ramble. Listen to Kid A. So far, the best of the 10’s.

OK Computer Tomorrow.

Also #1: Mistake alert! (Knock it down to a 9.9!). Drums on “Morning Bell” around the 2:45 mark (listen from 20 or so seconds prior to get a feel for it…). In the otherwise super-steady beat, Phil throws in an extra bass kick…he goes from “& 4” to “& 4 & 1” and in the process has a bit of a hitch in his snare (he doesn’t seem to start as confidently). Thoughts? Am I right?

I should disclaim, these “mistakes” are interesting to me because they add a bit of human nature to something that’s often without…(in the limitless-take-studio). Finding the unintentional flaw makes something seem actually real…like at some point these professional musicians, usually perfect had to say “okay, that’s the best we can do”
I also wonder about the recording…is it live? Was there another part that was “the take” and had to be kept? Did they notice it at the time? Did they try a bunch to nail it and this is the best one? …wonders wonders wonders…

Also #2: Writer Chuck Klosterman in Killing Yourself to Live writes about a Kid A / 9-11-2001 synchronicity. I can’t in good faith write this review without mentioning this fact.

The Pitchfork Project #003: The Soft Bulletin

[Missed a day, sorry. I'll also be taking the weekend off. Catch you Monday!]

Before you read my review, you should read Pitchfork’s review of The Soft Bulletin by the Flaming Lips. The first half is banter about the writer proudly and hip-ly losing his job and girlfriend and not interviewing Wayne Coyne; the second half is a half-hearted review full of dumb-as-hell metaphors (Qui-Gon? Really?) and argueable but weak-as-hell musical comparisons (dudes! This is just like Dark Side of the Moon!).

Regardless, the album is fantastic and a great musical creation. The “10.0” is absolutely correct.

More than any other album by the F’Lips, this album exhibits an impressive command of the sonic spectrum. Coyne (and collaborators) overhaul the typical hierarchy of recorded music and deliver a familiar but intriguing mix throughout. By combining familiar sounds in very specific ways, Coyne isn’t turning to individual instruments for their tones but is instead inventing textures through the interplay within each bizarre-ensemble. The treatment of these soundscapes on the record is then hyper-produced; affording Coyne and Co. the opportunity to create textures that are literally impossible in the acoustic realm (a good example of this is the thunderous drums which feel loud but aren’t).

For fun, I challenge you to grab a piece of paper and a pencil and pick a track on TSB and try to list every instrument that you hear.[1] Note the conventional and unconventional combinations yet the elegant way in which Coyne treats the entire ensemble, synths and violas as equally important. This is what makes TSB remarkable. It’s not a rock album with an orchestral part; the sound exhibits a non-additive sense of whole (Certain architects would call that aesthetic “Elegance”).

Aside from the technics of the composition, TSB is also a fantastic album because it exhibits what the F’Lips are about: the creative fantasy exploration of the future, science, and the effect on humanity. Like their more famous Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots from a few years after, TSB, like a good science fiction book, lyrically creates an emotional setting from a stereotypically emotionally sterile environment (Science). Coyne lyrically romanticizes science and musically uses that humanization to drive his soundscape composition. The ethical dilemma of the scientist as the contemporary hero expressed literally and vocally is played out musically by inserting the computer (synthesizers and drum machines) as whole members in the classical orchestra. It’s the musical expression of the classic sci-fi plot line and what they’ll later express through Unit 3000-21 in Yoshimi; it’s the machine that can feel.

If you don’t have it, get The Soft Bulletin. Aside from the technical banter, it’s got some fantastic songs. Steven Drozd’s drumming is absolutely stellar (Imagine if John Bonham and Meg White had a kid…). “Buggin” is my favorite Flaming Lips song for all the right reasons. And my only semi-complaint on the album is the seemingly unnecessary inclusion of remixes at the end, which isn’t even a complaint at all.

I like it. You Should too.

P.S. I’m actually really curious to see people’s instrument listings…y’all should list your guesses as comments and build from one another. I’m curious to see exactly what all Coyne uses on all the tracks.

---

[1] I did “a spoonful weighs a ton”…instruments in parentheses are ones that I can’t specifically pick out but I assume are in the ensemble: Violin, (Viola?) Cello, Harp, Piano, Flute, (Piccalo), Oboe (English Horn), (Clarinet?), Wayne, Chorus (synthesized), Timpani, Trumpet, Trombone, Euphonium, French Horn, Slide Guitar, Drum Set, Synthesizer, Bass Guitar, Electric Guitar (on 2 different tracks), Drum Machine, Concert Toms (as a separate drum track), Some sort of echo-machine.

The Pitchfork Project #002: El Producto

For Walt Mink’s 1996 release El Producto I can’t find a review by Pitchfork, however it appears on every list of “10.0’s” so it’s probably legit. Even Wikipedia doesn’t seem to know much other than that they’re a “indie rock power trio” from St. Paul. In my searches for the review, I found evidence that it was an inside job; Pitchfork knew the band. It’s also noted that it’s the first 10.0 that Pitchfork gave out. Taking all this into account, it all makes sense.

The funny thing though, is that I listened to the album before I read about it. I figured “hey, let’s give this a shot, non-biased.” I knew nothing of the band, and upon a listen I was intrigued, though underwhelmed. The album is an odd Pre-Post-Hardcore (for real). The drums and guitar are super technical and kind of raging, though the voice is a murky mix somewhere between Billy Corgan and Bob Dylan. The bad kind of nasal. The album doesn’t seem to have much predecessor or follower, at least where I’m familiar, but it’s really not super great. Nothing stood out other than the odd sound. El Producto sounded like that one local band from your town that you’d swear up and down is going to be the next big thing because of their super-unique [sic] sound and energy. Walt Mink certainly conveys energy and has an interesting sound…but it just doesn’t do it for me. The songwriting is kind of stale though technical and seemingly well-meaning. Without incrimination, they seem like a band that I’d be a member of: pretty solid songwriting with a heaping side of arrogant technical nonsense.

What’s really unfortunate, and maybe prevents this album from being really awesome is how dated it sounds. The guitars have that mid-90’s crunch and the drums and vocals sit adequately in the mix but don’t make much of a statement. This seems like the missed opportunity; the band perhaps didn’t sell out enough and lands not far enough away from the mainstream to become relevant but not close enough to profit. Also unfortunate is the immature sound. They seem to have all the tendencies of Post Hardcore without the fun stuff. No screaming, no really wacky time signatures, nothing really inventive; instead Walt Mink plays music that’s just technical enough to outshine the punk kids and just catchy enough for me to keep listening.

No need to really download this one, check out some of the stuff on the ‘tube or google. Their energy is obvious, but there’s only so much of the “hardcore-drummer-fill” that I can take before my interest wanes. The album was alright; clearly not a ten. El Producto lacks the transcendence and relevance, and really just seems dated and boring.

[This is what I get for going with something that I thought would broaden my horizons...back to the familiar...The Soft Bulletin tomorrow!]

The Pitchfork Project #001: Yankee Hotel Foxtrot

The Pitchfork Project starts out with a softball; I listened today to Yankee Hotel Foxtrot the 2002 release by Chicago alt-contry-rockers Wilco. The album is one in which I am very familiar, though for this round I snagged a lossless FLAC version. This marks the second time in recent weeks that I’d upgraded from 128kbps to FLAC and the change is remarkable. The FLAC version seems to make the mix more dynamic and really allows the previously unheard subtleties play through. If you have the means, and don’t mind messing with VLC (or some other FLAC player) I highly recommend this format; it’s akin to the happy discovery of listening to a well mixed not-as-compressed vinyl release.

Though rewarding it a perfect 10.0, Pitchfork gives the album a pretty cryptic review and doesn’t say much. Beneath the hip discussion of pedigree I connected with an interesting observation – P’fork noted a previous release Being There likely descends from Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers third release Damn the Torpedos; though upon reading (okay, initially misreading) I’d say that that’s a worthy comparison to YHF. My dad a huge TP fan always called DtT his favorite / the best Tom Petty album, though I always wrote it off as not really being that great and at least not having that many notable songs. Fast forward to the present where I rescind that statement. DtT and YHF are both albums that I’d describe as being albums that stand as wholes greater than the sum of their parts. Neither album has a song that I’d be eager to play to somebody as a single, but the collection works extremely well. Each album plays as a consistent body of music but doesn’t rely on cheesy concepts or rock-opera segues (rather subtle pieces that appear odder on subsequent listening - DtT’s intros about “just the normal noises” or YHF’s re/pre-quoting of their own material). Sonically, both albums are not only Americana rock-n-roll, but specimens of such that are indebted to the keyboard. While DtT used some period specific tones but defies being dated (a worry that Petty had in recording), YHF uses these same now-dated patches but integrates them in a contemporary setting without the crutch of irony or nostalgia.

The more I thought about the keys, the more I realized that YHF is incredibly though maybe unnoticeably synth heavy. Wilco is portrayed as alt-country, so the synth is pretty much not an option, but it’s always tastefully there. In “Kamera” it’s an 80’s lead-sounding synth sweeping beneath the lyrics of the chorus, in “War on War” it’s a spastic knob twisting solo where a guitar solo should be. Even “Heavy Metal Drummer” (Amen break alert!) has a delightfully dorky octave-bopping synth line in the Chorus that will probably always bug me now that I’ve made a note of it.

I’m cool with P’fork’s 10.0 rating, I certainly wouldn’t deny that it’s a near-perfect album (assuming we’re rounding that 100’s place up)….

BUT!

I found a mistake…and the perfection is blown.

Listen to “Radio Cure” (you may need a high-bitrate version, my 128 kind of obscures it but it's clear as day on the FLAC). Near the 2 minute mark, coincidental with the end of the line “Electronic Surgical Words” you can hear the xylophone hit the first tone of the xylophone lick that starts at the chorus. It’s seemingly out of key, out of place, and a bit timid which leads me to believe that it shouldn’t be there…maybe it bled on another track and they couldn’t edit it or maybe they recorded it live and that’s just what happens.

That said…9.9.