New Music: Darla Beaux – Rebel Soul (EP)

Posted on March 26, 2013 by bgibs122

Rebel Soul is out now!There’s too much irony in pop music today.

Enter Darla Beaux, whose Rebel Soul EP keeps pop simple, and the simplicity is a breath of fresh air. Even by EP standards, RS clocks a brief runtime–5 songs that never cut above the four minute mark, or below the three minute one. The brevity helps Beaux; she’s able to get in, get familiar, show her stuff, and bow out on a high note, leaving listeners to wonder what else she can do.

The immediate takeaway on Rebel Soul is that Beaux has a voice that demands attention.  Listening to her on the EP’s first single “Summer Dream” was genuinely surprising; her soulful contralto is first class pop to a tee, but she also performs well. She has a voice that exudes natural talent, and as a performance school attendant and X-Factor auditionee, she has honed her skills way beyond her years. All throughout Rebel Soul, she not only sound great, but shows personality behind her songs. Simply put, she does not like she’s fifteen.

The default approach towards the arrangements is to load them up so that they straddle the line into overstuffed and overproduced, but producer KC Price reigns things in before they get out of hand. On Rebel Soul, it works because Beaux’s vocal style and overall approach favor the classic pop “go big” productions. The EP opts for a pop/soul sound that doesn’t sound overly current, but comfortably fits with modern classicists like Amy Winehouse and Adele, with a little Lily Allen tossed in for a pop bend. She channels Winehouse especially on the EP’s title cut: “Back to Black” style bouncing piano and drums, but intercut with a brass section, and an arrangement that skews more pop than sorrow. Add in some mature but sassy vocals from Beaux that exude confidence (not to mention some great multi-tracking), and you have a natural standout track.

The dolled up ballad “Fallen For You” is the EP’s designated soft song, and it’s plenty enjoyable. The clean guitar, casual drumming, keyboard strings, and overall quiet grace of the song give it the feel of a romantic last dance, but Beaux never sounds sleepy. To the contrary, she’s able to create some drama and tension in the song’s prechorus that makes the bliss of the “I’ve fallen for you” chorus sound earned. She also gets some great, full voiced lines in the verses, and by never pulling back, she makes what could be a sleepy lull in the EP a highlight.

Rebel Soul‘s two other songs–“Sorry Not Sorry” and “Do Right”–aren’t as distinct as the three previously mentioned, but still keep the pace going all the same. “Sorry Not Sorry” makes a groove out of programmed drums and strings with dramatic flourishes in the verses before giving way to a surprisingly pleasant and melodic chorus that’s completed with subtle keyboards. It’s one of the most singalongable moments on the record. Closer “Do Right” is polished dub music (no, not dubstep), a bit of a departure from the sound of the rest of Rebel Soul, but the bright sound makes a great book end with “Summer Dream”. But, the song’s able to stand on it’s own; “Do Right”‘s big, open second half lends itself to Beaux going for broke on belting. It’s a fitting closer to an EP for an artist itching to prove herself.

And, over Rebel Soul‘s 18 minutes, Darla Beaux more than proves herself. With her natural talent and ability to put personality to a tune, Beaux should have a future in music, no matter which genre she sticks with. The pop/soul sound of her debut has broad appeal, but enough substance that it doesn’t feel empty. A lot of teenager singers bill themselves as “I just want to sing”. Darla Beaux makes everyone else want to listen.

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On Yr. Radar #5

Posted on March 18, 2013 by bgibs122

Hey all, and welcome to another edition of On Yr. Radar! We’ve got some great new tunes by independent artists, go ahead and click on the artist name/song title below to give them a listen!

Allison Weiss – One Way Love: Allison Weiss is gearing up to release her second album Say What You Mean in April, and “One Way Love” is making me wish it came out sooner. “One Way Love” is a cut of slightly spastic but catchy as all get out pop-punk with guitars equal parts jangle and crunch, and a huge chorus that dares you to sing along. More than that, though, is Weiss, whose scrappy vocals, attitude, and earnest lyrics are nothing but likeable and relatable. Give “One Way Love” a listen at Glamour Kills, and check out Weiss’ Facebook page.

Khalid Quesada – Radio Silence: The jaunty piano of the first forty seconds of Khalid’s 60s-loving indie pop song “Radio Silence” are cute, but threaten to push into “too on the nose” territory. But then, the crisp, overdriven guitars and garage rock drums kick in, giving the song’s hook way more oomph, and the sound some much needed grit. The retro vibe on “Radio Silence” is still palpable, but the music’s strong enough on its own to sound like a nod to the past, not an imitation of it. Keep up with Khalid on his Facebook page.

Skinny Lister – Forty Pound Wedding: I saw British band Skinny Lister open for Flogging Molly in January, and somewhere between their bassist walking out with a double bass christened “this machine kills dubstep” and vocalist Lorna Thomas carrying what looked like a moonshine jug, I couldn’t help but think “I have no idea where this is going”. Skinny Lister’s brand of rowdy, stomp ‘n shout, beer swilling, pub/folk rock made for a fun live show, and that energy and fun carry over to the band’s recorded material, as well. Their album Forge & Flagon is out now, and you can check their Facebook for more music.

Joy Ike – Time: And now, a quieter number in this edition of On Yr. Radar. Singer-songwriter Joy Ike lets this piano ballad build from a lone melody to a soaring, lush number complete with a lovely string arrangement that’s meditative and evocative at the same time. There’s a beauty to the song that matches Ike’s love song lyrics and vow of “Wherever you go, I will follow you”. “Time” is a wonderfully orchestrated ballad, and free to download from SoundCloud. Drop in on Ike’s Facebook page to keep up with her new music and tour.

Misty Miller – Little Drummer: Slow-building “Little Drummer” is the closer to Miller’s Girlfriend EP that was released earlier this month. Backed by nothing but a blusey guitar and a drum kit, Miller builds the song’s intensity with her rise and fall vocals. At over four and a half minutes, the sparse arrangement would swallow other artists whole, but Miller plays to the back of the room, and belts it out like no one’s watching. The song is a great ending note to the EP, and best of all, you can download it for free!

Ryan Vail – Sunlight: And we’re closing today on an electronic note. Ryan Vail, a duo consisting of Katie Cosgrove and, er, Ryan Vail, are slated to release an EP next month, and a full length later this year, and after a few spins of “Sunlight”, they’re on my to-watch list. The synth propelling the song forward is hypnotic, Vail’s hushed vocals enhance the dreamy tone of “Sunlight”, which is every bit as warm as its namesake. Well-crafted and mesmerizing, Ryan Vail is an artist to keep an eye on, and Facebook makes that easy.

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Radiohead’s Albums Ranked From Worst to Best

Posted on March 11, 2013 by bgibs122

Radiohead’s one of the few bands left from the 90s alternative rock boom that can still be called big without any stretch of credibility. They’re responsible for millions of albums sold, thousands of fans, and hundreds of thinkpieces; it could be argued that no modern music group has been written about more often than Thom Yorke and company. Well, today, I’m going to be adding my own ranking of their studio discography to that monolith.

I’ve had this idea for awhile because Radiohead and I have a weird push/pull relationship. I find a lot of their work really enjoyable, but I roll my eyes at them a lot, too. I find a lot of the praise dumped on them to be a bit much, and while I really like their music, I’ve also heard plenty of ‘head that left me really underwhelmed at the same time. I find them a fun band to talk about, but just a band all the same. So, let’s get down to ranking their studio albums.

TKOL fans: There is a list of valid reasons to say that you need to see an album in [x] perspective to love it. 8. The King of Limbs (2011)
Or “How To Bore Your Fans Completely”. The King of Limbs came out when I was less than a year into running this site, and I spent a lot of time reading other reviews for it while writing my own. So many of them, mine included, sounded like they were written by people who were telling themselves that they liked this album, that they had to like it. This is Radiohead we’re talking about, Radiohead wouldn’t release something bad.

Looking back, I dislike TKOL for two reasons. First of all, it’s Radiohead catering to all of the things I don’t like about them. It’s dense, it’s self-satisfied, and feels too concerned with being “arty” to have any real meaning. But more than that, there’s nothing really to TKOL. I more than understand that Radiohead isn’t an instant gratification act–anyone who says that they “got” Kid A on the first listen is a damn liar, but with “grower” albums, there has to be something there that keeps a listener coming back. And TKOL’s scattered beats and loops are well-made when you’re listening to them, but that’s all they are: pleasant, well-made, and too sterile to leave a lasting impression.

Dear Stereogum: I didn't mean to copy your bottom 2 picks. But read on, and you'll see we disagree. A lot.7.  Pablo Honey (1993)
Oh (Pablo) Honey. If only we knew where Radiohead would go from here, right? The band’s grunge-tastic debut often gets flak for being their worst album, and listening to the rest of their discography, it’s a clear fish out of water. In a vacuum, Pablo Honey wouldn’t be considered a terrible record; the arrangements are mostly tasteful, and it has some of Thom Yorke’s most all-out vocals; the album’s biggest selling point nowadays is that it brands one of the smartest/artiest band of the 90s as overeager British grungees. If Radiohead hadn’t become, well, Radiohead, PH would be remembered as a kind-of-ok but derivative album (hi U2, hi Nirvana) that housed “Creep”. The worst thing about PH is that it’s a wholly uninteresting album then and now. It was uninteresting in 1993 against records like In Utero and Vs., and it’s uninteresting now against everything else Radiohead’s done.

On some level, I feel bad for this album. It's the only non-PH album that I've never seen called their best. 6. Amnesiac (2001)
It’s been my experience that this album and the next entry on this list vie for the spot of Least Talked About Radiohead Album, meaning that it still gets a fair amount of coverage. Recorded in the same sessions as Kid A, and released a year afterward, Amnesiac will always and forever fight a reputation as “Kid A: The B-Sides”: the songs hit a little harder, but are less crafted and engaging. There are standouts like “Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors” and instant classic “The Pyramid Song”, but misfires like “Like Spinning Plates” as well. Even without the unfavorable comparison to a stone-cold masterpiece, Amnesiac still feels a underwhelming and hollow in a The King of Limbs way, but there are a few more notable moments here. It’s ok, but still one of the lesser offerings from the band.

This, along with Pablo Honey, might be in Feedbacks someday.5. Hail to the Thief (2003)
After mucking around with electronics and programming for two albums, Hail to the Thief was Radiohead getting back to “basics” (read: sounding a little more like OK Computer). Hail to the Thief is the Radiohead album that sounds the most like Radiohead; there’s some big, loud, electric guitars, some programmy whammy bleepy bloopy stuff, and loads of 21st century paranoia—the album’s title is a commentary on George W. Bush stealing the 2000 election, visual themes for the artwork include consumerism and War on Terror jitters.

Hail to the Thief is the Radiohead album I’m the most neutral to. Anytime I listen to it, I feel like there should be something there, but I can’t quite get at it. And, unlike The King of Limbs, this album has material that I keep wanting to come back to; “There, There”, “Stand up, Sit Down”, and “Sail to the Moon” are great, and “A Wolf at the Door” is downright terrifying. But, like I said, I can’t quite see what the album’s trying to say, and there’s a malaise that makes listening to it a sour experience for songs at a time.

I still had dialup when this album came out, meaning that I was one of like, three people that had to buy a physical copy. Nope, not still bitter at all.4. In Rainbows (2007)
It’s a mark that In Rainbows is a great album that whenever it’s brought up these days, the quality of the music outshines the “pay what you want” model under which it was released. Like its predecessor Hail to the Thief, In Rainbows is Radiohead in “band” mode, but instead of HttT’s twitchy paranoia, IR has a sense of sleek melancholy. The ‘head albums are known for Nigel Godrich’s immaculate production, but something about the warm mix on IR is a head above the band’s other records. That mix, along with the band’s great songcraft, makes this album the most user-friendly and accessible work that Radiohead’s ever done.

What makes In Rainbows work is that it came at a point in the band’s career where they didn’t feel like they had to do anything other than make a great pack of songs that sounded like Radiohead. It’s a sleek album for sure, but there are also harder hitting moments like the utterly heartbreaking “All I Need”, the bleak “Reckoner”, and “Bodysnatchers”, the three-guitared sequel to “Paranoid Android”. If this album is ranked “low”, it’s only because the band’s top three records are so great.

And just think, this placement is going to be called 3. OK Computer (1997)
Often considered Radiohead’s magnum opus, OK Computer was a game changer when it came out. It revitalized alternative rock when the subgenre was running dry. It was prog-rock friendly, but still had hooks. It handled heavy topics, but was still approachable. It’s rightly considered one of the best albums of the 90s, and I’m only putting it at number three.

I can explain.

For me, OK Computer, while brilliant, is a very uneven album. “Paranoid Android”, “Let Down”, “Karma Police”, and “No Surprises” are all flawless songs, but as an end-to-end album, OK Computer meanders a little too much for me to rank it above either of these next two; I find it’s second half fairly skippable. It’s a scary, thought-provoking album that resonates as much today as it did when it was released, and is rightly regarded as a masterpiece. And speaking of masterpieces…

I still only see 2. Kid A (2000)
Were it not for how much I really like my number one pick, Kid A would take the top honor. Hell, if this list was ranked by how much time I’ve spent with each album, it’d be first by a long shot. If OK Computer was called one of the best albums of the 90s, then Kid A is routinely called the best album of the 00s.

I think the reason that Kid A gets so much attention and adoration is that it’s one of those albums that you just have to “get”, and by that time you’ve listened to it so much that everything is in its right place. And while it takes awhile to come around to tracks like “Kid A”, the album also has constant, immediate victories: the deliriousness of “The National Anthem”, utter despair at “How to Disappear Completely”, and the techno-pop freak-out (but oh so catchy) “Idioteque”. Those anchors keep you coming back to Kid A, and eventually, you even get to appreciate the more oblique stuff. I remember walking home from campus a few years ago, and listening to the album in full. It was late, and I was on the second chorus of “Motion Picture Soundtrack”, and everything just clicked. It’s been a favorite ever since.

1. The Bends (1995)
Radiohead beat the sophomore slump by ditching damn near every hallmark of Pablo Honey, and making one of the hallmark alternative rock albums with The Bends. It’s not a common choice for the best album, but it’s the one that I feel the most confident in.

There’s no discernible lull on The Bends; even the less interesting songs feel like part of the whole, and they aren’t clumped together to bog down a particular section of the record. The Bends is the last time until In Rainbows 12 years and 5 albums later that there wouldn’t be a concept behind a Radiohead album, and it’s arguably better for it. Sure, themes are common, but The Bends isn’t intrinsically about the ghosts in the machine or the hell of modern life; it’s a collection of solid songs.

What a bunch of songs it is. Radiohead made a career out of writing about thinking the world’s ending, but the loops and crashing guitars on “Planet Telex”, the freakout towards the end of “My Iron Lung”, and the rapid-fire loud/soft of “Just” are unhinged in a way that makes The End less of a musing, and more of a threat. And then comes the utter hopelessness of “Street Spirit (Fade Out)” to push that threat home. The Bends is still alt. rock to the bone like Pablo Honey, but there’s intricacy here that was unthinkable on that album: “Fake Plastic Trees” remains one of the band’s finest moments, and Johnny Greenwood’s guitar tone throughout the album—at once hysteric and aggressive but still wildly expressive and diverse, make it one of the best of the 90s.

The Bends might not have taken the music world over like Kid A or OK Computer, but it’s still a hell of a package that hasn’t lost a step since its 1995 release. It’s cohesive, well-crafted, affecting, and cathartic, and my pick for Radiohead’s best.

Do you agree? Disagree? Let me know in comments!

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Feedback: Pearl Jam – No Code

Posted on February 28, 2013 by bgibs122

I’m a recovering Pearl Jam fan.

Well, I’m a recovering Pearl Jam fanatic, I suppose. I got into them around the release of their 2006 self-titled, and then started at (where else but) Ten, and worked my way up. It was the first or second time that I’d used the “come into a band at current album, use online media/reviews/chronology for rest of albums, enjoy” strategy that served me well between 2006 and 2009 before I had real expenses.

What made the process especially fun and easy with Pearl Jam was that by the time I got into them, music culture at large had written them a neat and tidy narrative: they appeared in 1991 and became the biggest band in the world with Ten, followed it up with two more classics (1993’s Vs. and Vitalogy in 1994), before checking out with No Code, the first in a string of four releases (No Code, Yield, Binaural, and Riot Act) that were varying degrees of meh, and then getting back in form with their self-titled. See? Simple.

It also ignores the fact that 90s Pearl Jam was a complicated band that put a lot of thought into its records. Vs., and more transparently Vitalogy and No Code, were all attempts at shirking that “biggest band in the world” status that PJ found themselves with in 1992. Vitalogy‘s a conflicted but compelling mix of anthems and alienation; it houses self-sabotage like this, but arguably the band’s most enduring single, as well. It’s a swirling mess of confusion and despair that mixes far too well to remove Pearl Jam from public consciousness the way frontman Eddie Vedder wanted it to.

Instead, that honor goes to follow-up No Code, which gets my vote for Pearl Jam’s weirdest album. Even duds like Binaural and Riot Act still sound like Pearl Jam, which isn’t always true of No Code. It’s something of a “rebuilding” album: after getting everything dark and ugly out on Vitalogy, No Code is the sound of a band trying to rediscover itself, which isn’t always a share-able process. I remember being fifteen, and completely weirded out at “Sometimes” for its tension without any kind of climax; only Ed Ved in his higher register over clean guitar and quiet instrumentation that meanders instead of builds. Years later, I can appreciate the approach, even if the song still strikes me as an odd opener.

But it really sets the mood for this album. No Code‘s weirdness stems from it being a truly different album for Pearl Jam. It’s the first PJ album where Vedder benches the roar that launched a thousand Creeds; on rocker/single “Hail, Hail” he sings the entire song clear voiced, and other overt rockers “Habit” and “Lukin” play his trademark style low in the mix and exaggerated beyond reason respectively. A lot of the classic rock influence/guitar soloing that dominated the band’s first three albums is gone, as well. Most of the rock songs on No Code strike closer to garage rock than anything else, and Stone Gossard sung “Mankind” drifts into power pop territory.

There’s a difference in tone, too. Calling No Code a personal record wouldn’t be entirely accurate, but the lyrics here are far less concerned with the outside world than those on the band’s first three albums. The band swapped writing about consumerism, police brutality, and homelessness for introspection, troubled relationships, and identity. Lyricism has always been a selling point for Pearl Jam, but Vedder really sets himself to work here. No Code is the first album where his lyrics don’t aim for the heart, but the head; “Present Tense” and “Who You Are” are loaded with affirmations of self and identity,  and “I’m Open” is a meditation cum spoken-word. There’s a lot of retrospection here, too, on cuts like “Red Mosquito”, possibly about some of the band’s decisions, “In My Tree” places the narrator away from the world, and “Off He Goes” (the best crafted lyrics on the album) looks at friendships that have been lost. A pretty far cry from “Jeremy”, isn’t it?

The music fits this more mature tone, as well. Several of the songs on No Code use world and Middle Eastern styles of music as an influence (“Who You Are” and “In My Tree” are the most obvious sign posts), and the instrumentation is more sparse overall. “Around the Bend” and “Off He Goes” veer into acoustic country territory. Only “Red Mosquito” approaches Pearl Jam’s typical arena rock sound, the rest of the time, No Code sounds a little scattered.

When the album was released in 1996, scattered could also describe the year for alternative rock as a whole. After an exhaustive string of releases in the past two years, 1996 offered a medley of third and fourth string artists, quiet debuts of artists who would go on to do bigger things (including some Canadian upstarts named Nickelback), and a lot of ska. The year’s few big releases were Beck’s Odelay, Marilyn Manson’s Antichrist Superstar, Weezer’s infamous Pinkerton, and Metallica’s (downward) turning point Load. It could be argued that part of No Code‘s bum rep comes from it being a difficult record at a difficult time; it Pearl Jam’s first release that didn’t share record store shelving with brand new Soundgarden or Nirvana.

No Code‘s inconsistent, but breathed some experimentation into the band, and finally gave them the alienation that Eddie Vedder had wanted since 1993. That accomplishment came with plenty of struggles: the album’s recording process was ugly and filled with inner-band strife, none of the singles really took off, the album had the band’s lowest commercial/critical reception at the time, and the tour was loaded with stress (Pearl Jam wouldn’t use Ticketmaster venues or methods of distribution, which limited their options). I’m not going to make any claims that I “got” the album while listening to it for this Feedback, but giving it a few spins in 2013, I’m able to get some perspective on it. At the very least, it’s the soul-searcher that the band was looking for, even if their fans weren’t. Nothing about No Code is easy, but then again, looking for yourself never is.

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