It’s had to be a nice year for New Jersey pop punk band Candy Hearts. After last year’s Everything’s Amazing & Nobody’s Happy, the band has been touring almost constantly, including a pair of dates on Warped Tour over the summer. They’re slated to open for New Found Glory on a string of dates next month, and were signed to Chad Gilbert’s Violently Happy imprint on Bridge 9 Records.
The Best Ways To Disappear, then, is a victory lap of the past year, and a glimpse at the band’s future. Candy Hearts has been billed as a pop punk band since the start, but there’s always been some indie-rock stylings thrown in the mix, especially on Everything’s Amazing. Those are thrown out the window on this EP, which is 18 minutes of pure pop-punk energy from the rush of “Bad Idea” to “Ticklish”, and all of its charm. While Candy Hearts has never had murky production or approached anything like low-fi, they’ve never had anything that sounds as outright big as the sound of The Best Ways To Disappear. Chad Gilbert’s production plays to the livelier aspects of the band; by kicking everything a little louder but clearer at the same time, there’s more power in songs like “Replacement Parts” and “Matchbox” than there would be otherwise.
If the songs on The Best Ways to Disappear aren’t road tested, they sound road-ready. Production aside, this is a muscular and confident batch of songs. The riff leading into “Matchbox”, as well as the song’s frantic prechorus, hit surprisingly hard, and the final, full band chorus of acoustic ballad “Sick of It” is the closest Candy Hearts has ever gotten to anthemic. Lead single “Bad Idea” starts relentless, and never lets go, but is still poppy enough to dance around to with a big smile.
Frontwoman and songwriter Mariel Loveland is getting sharper as a singer and lyricist with each release. She sounds more comfortable in her range, hitting some higher notes through the EP, but hasn’t lost any sweetness. Throughout TBWTD, her lyrics focus mostly on relationships and crushes (the lone outsider is “Sick of It”). On a full-length, it could get tiring, but the approach works on an EP. Her lyrics are easy to relate to from a “we’ve all been there” perspective, but there’s some craft and depth there, too. “Ticklish” takes a charming snapshot of adolescent crushes with “All I know is I know you’re ticklish/When I run my hands over your ribs/And I pretend I’m ticklish/Because I’d do anything to feel your skin against me”, and “Miles and Interstates” laments lost relationships with “Some day you’ll be a Polaroid of someone I used to know”.
Spanning six songs, TBWTD plays with consistency, and it’s hard to spot a particular high or low. Some extra energy, grit, and a playful bridge make “Matchbox” a slight standout for me, while “Miles and Interstate” is the only cut that’s even a little skippable. The singularity of the EP helps it feel cohesive, but it’s a light release; fans looking for something to tug at the heartstrings like “Anything”, “Sleepy Kisses”, or “I Want Out” will almost certainly leave empty handed (although they might find some comfort in “Sick of It”).
Some more variety from the band wouldn’t hurt, but the next full length will probably fix that. As a standalone release, The Best Ways To Disappear is a sturdy EP. It’s a tight, focused group of songs that are not only enjoyable now, but should have a pretty long shelf life (playlist life?) to boot. At 18 minutes, it’s a great choice for repeat listenings without sounding repetitive. Four out of five stars.
Get your notebook paper and YouTube ready, it’s time for a list!
Hm, I haven’t done a list in awhile. I thought about doing just the standard “favorite songs” thing, but that would mean spending a lot of time trying to nail down what songs are my favorite, and trying to figure out what one song from my favorite artists represents them best. That, and just a favorite songs list is kinda boring, and really fluid.
Instead, I thought I’d do a list of…hm, think of it as “my one hit wonders”; songs that I really like by artists that I don’t really listen to, pay attention to, or care about. The songs on here are ranked by how much I like the song and how much I know the artist, so I might really like a song, but rank it in the middle because the artist is one that I’m more in tune with than others. Anyway, let’s get started!
10. My Chemical Romance – Cancer (2006)
I’ve had an antagonistic relationship with MCR since they burst on the scene in 2004. None of their stuff that I’ve heard has really resonated with me in a long-lasting way, even songs like “Helena” or “Welcome to the Black Parade” that I actually liked.
Then there’s “Cancer” from the heart of their landmark The Black Parade album. One of the routine comparisons for the album is Queen, and the multitracked vocals and dominant piano of “Cancer” speak to that. On an album that’s deceptively more MCR-y than most pretend it is, this song stands out as being different from most anything the band has done before or since. Gerard Way writes enough macabre lyrics that their impact occasionally gets dulled, but he found a keeper in “Baby, I’m just soggy from the chemo”, which captures the hellish tone of the therapy and in the song in one clever line. But the other part of “Cancer” that made it stay with me was the vocal descend around the two minute mark with the string flourish. It’s one of those little moments I can listen to again and again. You’re not all bad, My Chem.
9. U2 – Sunday Bloody Sunday (1983)
A few years ago, I kind of tried to get into U2, but it just didn’t take. Then I realized I don’t really know anyone who loves them, and theorized that everyone’s got those, like, three U2 songs they really like. I still haven’t found what I’m looking for with the other two, but “Sunday Bloody Sunday” never gets old for me in the way that most U2 does. From The Edge’s famous guitar riff that sounds like the world’s ending to the martial drums to the song’s constant forward motion, make “Sunday Bloody Sunday” a winner. Oh, and all of the Nice Guy Humanitarian jokes aimed at Bono, he nails it in his utterly pissed off and kickass speech during the Rattle & Hum version of the song.
8. Rihanna – Disturbia (2008)
Rihanna has singles on the charts so often, she might as well pay rent for her own spot in the Hot 100. The catch is that while most of her singles are alright, there isn’t a lot of worth to revisiting them; I don’t remember anyone clamoring to hear “Don’t Stop the Music” after 2008. “Disturbia”, though, has the distinction of being a Rihanna song I actually want to hear years after its been released. It occupies kind of a singular spot in the Rihanna discography; it isn’t blatantly about love or sex, and it has a darker edge that gives it a little more weight than most of her other singles. And it’s got that killer “bum bum be dum” hook that just won’t get out of your head. Even if you’ve heardit before.
7. The Killers – Spaceman (2008) The Killers are one of those groups that I always feel like I should be into way more than I am, but never struck me right. I find a lot of Killers stuff bloated and inert, but there’s a certain giddiness to “Spaceman”‘s frantic drumming, damn near punk guitar, and delightfully erratic melody that won me over from the first listen. A lot of Killers’ uplifting songs rely on solemn, earnest, first in the air rally calls, whereas “Spaceman” opts that “the starmaker says it ain’t so bad” and “The spaceman says everybody look down, it’s all in your mind”. It’s not exactly a light song, although it doesn’t wear itself out over a surprising 4:45 runtime, either. Underneath everything, “Spaceman”‘s an ultimately one of The Killers’ best pop songs.
6. Placebo – Drag (2006)
I’m more familiar with Placebo than most artists on this list: their album Meds–which “Drag” is from–will make habitual trips to my “now playing” section during the winter months. So why is “Drag” on here? Well, Meds aside, I know absolutely nothing of Placebo, and I fucking love “Drag”.
Honestly, were it not for my familiarity with Placebo, “Drag” would be ranked higher (the two qualifiers for the ranking system are how much I like the song and how familiar I am with/like the artist). The music is sweet in a gloomy, post-punk sort of way, and lyrics like “You got A’s on your algebra test/I failed and they kept me behind” or “I just gotta get off my chest/That I think you’re divine” are clumsy, but awkward and endearing in a “dumb teenage love” way. Were it not for the song’s energy, it’d be a little flat, but as it stands, “Drag” does anything but.
5. Julia Nunes – Stairwell (2008) Sandwiched between two artists on the list I know fairly well is one of the artists on the list I know or care the least about. Julia Nunes is one of the more successful/least annoying YouTube artists out there. A few years back, I had a good friend really get into her, and like a good friend, tried to get me in on Nunes as well. Most of it didn’t take; Nunes didn’t strike me as an especially interesting artist then (or now), but “Stairwell”‘s made its way onto just about every mellow or sad playlist I’ve ever made. The descending chord progression doesn’t sound particularly happy or sad, and the song sounds kind of cute at first “I’m lying here on the floor/Just like the man on the yellow cone/Guess the floor was wet”. I love songs with a punchline, and and “Stairwell” ranks up there with the third verse reveal “Perhaps I didn’t trip/I’ve been having troubles lately/And I got something to admit”. It’s quietly heartbreaking.
4. +44 – Baby, Come On (2006)
I’m kinda fascinated by +44’s When Your Heart Stops Beating album, but “Baby, Come On” is on this list pretty much for the same reason that “Drag” was: It’s one of my all-time favorite songs. In an interview I read earlier this year, Mark Hoppus called this song one of the best he’s ever written, and it’s hard for me to disagree. The chorus sounds absolutely huge, and the song has some great lyrics. “The past is only the future with the lights on” is a great and highly quotable line, but in what is essentially a relationship song, I find the pleading in “Isn’t there something familiar about me?” way more affecting. It’s affecting because “Baby, Come On” as a whole is desperate to make a difficult relationship work; the verses talk about how they sort of need each other, but something’s in the way. Also helping “Baby, Come On” in my book is that it’s possibly about one of my favorite movies.
3. Carole King – It’s Too Late (1971)
I’ve never put an effort into getting into Carole King–I probably couldn’t tell you how many of her songs I’ve heard–but long ago I heard “It’s Too Late”, and it’s stuck with me ever since. It’s one of the more all-encompassing Break-Up Songs I’ve heard: you get a little bit of sadness, some reflecting on how things used to be, some positivity looking ahead, and a lot of honesty. Instead of focusing on any one of those, the song looks at the break up like, “Well, this sucks, but there’s no where else to really go, is there?”. In other words, “It’s too late baby/Now it’s too late/’though we really did try to make it”. The music hits all of those emotions as well, it’s poppy enough, catchy, but still sorrowful. It’s a classic for a reason.
2. Regina Spektor – The Bronx (2003)
If I ever made a list of artists I really wish I liked more, Regina Spektor would be towards the top. Maybe I just keep listening to the wrong albums, but aside from a song or two, none of her material really stays with me. Then there’s “The Bronx”, a live-only cut that clocks in at under 2 minutes that I love the shit out of. It’s a silly, dreaming little number that most artists would consider barely more than a demo, but it doesn’t need anything else added to it. My favorite part is at “Come downstairs!”; it’s so sudden and the sixteenth note piano chords leap forward with importance, like this is really what the character in the song wants. It’s a cute story wrapped up in catchy but unique music, and it always makes me want to listen to more Regina Spektor.
1. Incubus – Stellar (2000)
Oh, Incubus. You are the poster child of artists I don’t really care about. I don’t know what it is about them, but I just can’t find it in me to feel anything towards this group; they could release the year’s best album or break up next week, and I wouldn’t feel any better or worse either way, so long as I still have “Stellar”.
It’s hard to pinpoint what really makes “Stellar” click for me where something like “Drive” doesn’t. I’m not particularly attached to any one element of the song, but I guess it’s more just how everything works together. A love song about love IN SPACE sounds ridiculous on paper, especially with Brendan Boyd’s potentially wonky lyrics. But it led to lines like “We could spend a night/Watch the earth come up” or “Meet me in outer space/I will hold you close/If you’re afraid of heights” that work. The music’s strong, particularly the guitar, which hits a great balance point between pretty and heavy ala The Smashing Pumpkins. As a vocalist, Brendan Boyd always sounds at his best when he’s wailing and selling a song’s big emotional point, and it’s great for a love song. I might not care for Incubus on most everything else they’ve ever done, but I find “Stellar” out of this world.
Let’s talk about bad music. Bad music, particularly bad pop music, tends to inspire wrath in people. Most people will shrug off a bad movie, book, or video game, but there’s something about bad music that usually gets someone worked up. The same guy who sneers at Twilight once and is done with it turns into Yosemite Sam at “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”, that sort of thing. And yes, I know that I rage at bad music like the best of them.
Then you get a song like “Cruise”.
“Cruise” is the lead single off up and coming country duo Florida Georgia Line’s new album. Who are Florida Georgia Line? Who knows and who cares: “Cruise” paints them as a new group for pandering, artistically dead, in one ear and out the other radio country. It’s the sort of thing that should make me spend the next 500 words ranting about how horrible it is.
But I…can’t. Honestly, I’m too amused by this song to actually hate it.
Don’t get me wrong, “Cruise” isn’t So Bad It’s Good–it’s just Bad. And where “Call Me Maybe” was dumb but too sweet and fun too hate, “Cruise” is too stupid to understand while you’re angry at it. It’s the kind of idiotic song you have to laugh it because you’re too sad to cry.
The song cruises by on one of the more transparent interpretations of the Four Chords of Pop with little to support it. Excluding a few fills, the beat’s basic enough that anyone who’s heard half the song could pick it up, and the obligatory fiddle, banjo, and mandolin add that authentic mass produced Country Sound. “Cruise” even embraces a gloriously forgettable guitar solo halfway through.
The only distinct thing about “Cruise”‘s music is how unsubtle its transitions are. The jump from the verses to the chorus don’t exactly planned as much as they are the duo panicking when they run out of verse. The song runs off a light loud-soft dynamic, where the louds are supposed to be more jarring because of the softs that came before them. But with “Cruise”, the transition to the chorus is only jarring because it sounds like the audio engineer fell asleep for the two seconds it would take to make this graceless transition make sense.
Neither Florida nor Georgia (Brian Kelley and Tyler Hubbard) bring a lot of charisma or raw vocal talent to the song. Whoever shouts the gratuitous “Hey baby!”, “Aw yeah!”, or other bar band level adlibs is trying to impress, but the production on “Cruise” solders any personality off either one of them. Honestly, the vocals are less Luke Brian and a little more Chad Kroger.
So, wanna hear the lyrics?
“Baby you a song/You make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise” Either he means that literally, or “roll my windows down” is the strangest euphemism I’ve heard recently.
“Down a back road blowin’ stop signs in themiddle/ [of, I assume] every little farm town with you/In this brand new Chevy with a lift kit/Would look a hell of a lot better with you up in it” I get trying to daisychain two couplets by using “In”, but it makes the next line make no sense. It’s either a run-on sentence or a tense mishap, but no matter what, it’s an awkward line. And a bad pick-up line.
“When I first saw that bikini top on her/She’s poppin’ right out of the south Georgia water/Thought ‘Oh good Lord, she had them long, tan legs'” Why do I keep reviewing country songs that boil down to “I’m telling you, this chick was hot!”?
“She was sippin’ on Southern/And singing Marshall Tucker/We were falling in love in the sweet heart of summer/She hopped right up into the cab of my truck, and said/’Fire it up, let’s go get this thing stuck'” Y’know, I think this woman might actually be a made up song. There’s too much wish fulfillment for me to think otherwise.
There’s also a bridge where Florida (or maybe it’s Georgia?) sings about taking this woman in his truck, driving out all night, then “strumming a few chords”, and “singing from the heart”. I’d love nothing more than for “Cruise”–which talks about his truck almost as much as it does her–to be that song.
“Cruise” is a gloriously bad song. What sets it apart from bad songs by numbers is that it can’t even comprehend that it could possibly be a bad song. It’s hokey, clumsily written, and essentially about nothing. I suppose it could be seen as charming, but make no mistake–I’m laughing at this one, and not with it; don’t be surprised if “Cruise” makes the Top 10 worst of the year for me. It’s silly as a one off, but I’m banking on Florida Georgia Line cruising into obscurity sooner rather than later.
Thanks for your patience during a slow month at RAM. New content resumes this week!
Hello, and welcome to Radio Rants. We’re having an old friend today.
I started Radio Rants as Ke$ha was on her way up in the world, and at the time, I don’t think I hated anyone as much as I hated her. Not only did Ke$ha typify everything bad about pop music, she reveled in typifying everything bad about pop music. The stupidity, the vapidity, and oh that AutoTune…it was just everything to make a music snob foam at the mouth. After reviewing her stuff on the site before, plus listening to it here and there for comparison’s sake, I have to say, she’s not as hate worthy as I thought. Even with the incessant catchiness aside, “Tik Tok” is almost savant-like as far as Bad Pop Songs go. While she’s made truly appalling music before, but she’s also made some genuinely good songs, too.
I gave all of her previous singles a relisten before getting ready to write this review, and listening to them all in one swoop made something really obvious: Ke$ha has a very limited range. If you want a song to play while doing a round of shots, she’s got ya covered, but she’s something of a one trick pony otherwise. I get that few pop stars have a wide sonic or subject variety, but glitchy, overstimulating, and yes, sleazy sounds and lyrics are vital to Ke$ha’s identity in a way that they aren’t for other pop stars. It worked back in 2010; “Tik Tok” was the biggest song of the year, and she was a big part of the club pop trend. But, now that the club bubble’s burst, can she stay relevant or adapt?
“Die Young” starts by reminding us that fuck it, if Flo Rida can still have a hit, so can Ke$ha. At least that’s the only explainable reason for why “Die Young” starts with a slightly retweaked take on the intro to Flo’s “Good Feeling”. And while it’s still very much a Dr. Luke and Benny Blanco single, it still feels somewhat organic by Ke$ha standards. The acoustic guitar from “Good Feeling” is back, and there’s some organic drum work in the prechorus. It’s kind of slick, but also makes for a deflating first listen or two; “Die Young” can’t help but sound like more of the same.
A lot of “Die Young” is also flatout forgettable. It’s no surprise in a pop song when the chorus does all of the work, but “Die Young”‘s chorus is the only memorable part of the song. That strikes me as something new for Ke$ha; even her verses were reliable for some inane lines. What have we got this time?
“Young hearts, out our minds/running like we outta time/Wild childs, lookin’ good/Livin’ hard just like we should” So are we skipping the part where she tells us she’s at a party, or is it just assumed at this point?
“Looking for some trouble tonight/Take my hand, I’ll show you the wild side” “Hey I heard you were the wild on–no, that’s Flo Rida again. You ever get the feeling that Ke$ha and Flo Rida are the people who insist that the party keeps going even after everyone else has left or passed out and the sun’s coming up? At this point, I’d chalk the similarities up to neither of them knowing how to do anything but party as opposed to copycating.
“Young hunks, taking shots/Stripping down to dirty socks” Hey, how do you take all of the fun out of drunk, hormone induced naked time? Include the phrase “dirty socks”. All the fun of imagining these good looking naked people…gone, because I keep focusing on dirty socks.
“I hear your heart beat to the beat of the drums/Oh what a shame that you came here with someone/So while you’re here in my arms” A little cliche, but the melody’s good here, so I’ll allow it. That and the drum beat after the first line’s a nice touch.
“Let’s make the most of the night like we’re gonna die young” So the song’s meaning is basically someone shouting “YOLO!”.
Like I said, the chorus is really catchy and high energy, but “Die Young” strikes me as kind of eh. It’s a little smoother around the edges–imagine vodka and Redbull instead of shooting bottom-shelf tequila–but it’s more of the same. Maybe “Die Young” will be what “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” was to Red: a pop lead-in to a surprisingly diverse album. Ke$ha’s got enough personality and frankly enough weirdness that she’d be able to get away with more than this, and it’d be fun to see her try. But, of course, there’s always that party to be had, and if it ain’t broke, why fix it?
It’s had to be a nice year for New Jersey pop punk band Candy Hearts. After last year’s Everything’s Amazing & Nobody’s Happy, the band has been touring almost constantly, including a pair of dates on Warped Tour over the summer. They’re slated to open for New Found Glory on a string of dates next month, and were signed to Chad Gilbert’s Violently Happy imprint on Bridge 9 Records.
Ranting About Music! 