Album Review: Taylor Swift – Red

Posted on October 30, 2012 by bgibs122

Album number four, especially under the public eye, is the “evolve or die” album. Obviously, plenty can change before then, but being able to change it up and succeed on your fourth long player is a sign that you’re in the game for the long haul. At least that was what Taylor Swift was thinking when she mapped out Red. Speak Now, her previous album, fleshed out her country pop sound without risking too much, but Red sees her pushing in other directions. What she’s evolving into, well, that’s up for debate, but this record’s got more variety across the board than anything she’s done before.

I don’t think I’m surprising anyone when I say that this is Taylor Swift’s least country album to date. Don’t get me wrong, there are still plenty of strummed acoustic numbers, but there’s fewer fiddles, banjos, and Swift’s affected country drawl is disappearing. As far as I’m concerned, these are all good things. Not just because I found them annoying, but because without ditching the superficial “country” elements, Swift wouldn’t have made something as grand as opener “State of Grace”, an arena rock number filled with U2-style guitars and rapid drumming. Hearing it knock the hinges off Red‘s doors is a little disarming, but exciting at the same time.

Let’s look at the three potential Red flags: “I Knew You Were Trouble”, “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”, and “22”, all written by Swift in collaboration with pop masterminds Max Martin and Shellback. Far and away, “22” is the weakest; Swift’s attempt at Ke$ha’s sing-talk style is grating, and nothing about the song’s lyrics or production stands out–it’s just pop filler. Weirdly enough, the song that I could describe as “Taylor Swift does dubstep” as a scare tactic works best; the bass drop in the chorus works because the song’s energetic and written well enough that it doesn’t feel as clumsy as it could. I still don’t get the appeal of “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”, the Taylor Swift-iest song title in existence, but it was pop game Taylor Swift’s debut number one hit, so I guess it’s not her, it’s me.

The other two big name collaborations are duets: “The Last Time” with Snow Patrol’s Gary Lightbody, and “Everything Has Changed” with Ed Sheeran. Both of them sound like what you’d expect a Taylor Swift and Snow Patrol/Ed Sheeran collab to sound like if no one involved tried hard; both numbers are pretty enough to be pleasant listens, but neither leave a lasting impression, leaving them to both kind of feel like a let down.

But Red is still overwhelmingly Taylor Swift’s album. Swift has 9 solo writing credits, plus one with long time Team Swift member Liz Rose. That effort, “All Too Well”, is an easy highlight; the song’s a musical builder with some great lyrics about the ups and downs of a failed relationship. “I Almost Do”, a Swift loner, reaches the same quality without reaching quite as high; the song’s more of a bedroom composition than “All To Well”. Elsewhere, the radio-friendly “Red” is a little slicker than most, but still good.

As for the writing, yes, Red still has the same preoccupation with romance that Swift’s always had, but she’s looking for new ways to explore those ideas. There are fewer blow-by-blow story telling creations here, and more reflections (“Holy Ground”, “I Almost Do”). Interestingly, Swift seems to be edging out of the virgin-whore complex that she built with songs like “You Belong With Me”: Red has hints that Swift might want to do more than hold the guy’s hand. The balladry of Speak Now‘s been limited, as well; Red‘s backhalf–dominated by Swift’s solo credits, has more forward motion in the form of songs like “The Lucky One” and “Starlight” than dreary numbers like “Sad Beautiful Tragic”. And, although the album’s peppered with hints as to who each song’s about (for anyone interested, here’s YahooMusic’s interpretation of who Swift put in the Burn Book this time).

While Red is a well-crafted and mostly good album, it’s not without its flaws. The sequencing seems to be at damn near random: “22” is ungracefully in the middle of “I Almost Do” and “All Too Well”, and the back half of the album suffers from monotony. Then again, Red‘s also varied just enough that almost any order would be trouble; it’s not the kind of record that invites end to end listening. A good reason for that is that in trying to please everyone, the album gets lost in itself at a 65 minute playtime. Some of the more pandering or cutesy cuts like “Stay Stay Stay”,  “Begin Again”, and “Treacherous”–the songs that are only present for people who still insist Swift’s a country artist–could be dropped with little to no adverse effect.

Taylor Swift, like a lot of 22 year olds, is in a transition phase, and Red is very much a transition album. When it hits, it hits out of the park, but the misses come too often and go on too long. Weird as it sounds, Swift’s better for leaving the more obvious country sounds behind, and her most exciting moments on Red are without them. It’s a little too scattered and ultimately unbalanced for true greatness, but all that means is that hopefully Swift will be able to distill the best parts of Red onto her next record. She’s got plenty to work with, and Red at least establishes that she’s in the game long enough to get it perfect. Three and a half stars out of five.

tl;dr: Taylor Swift starts the journey out of Nashville, and she’s all the better for it: 3.5/5

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Radio Rant: Bruno Mars – Locked Out of Heaven

Posted on October 24, 2012 by bgibs122

Hy there, Radio Runts! We’ve reached that special time of year where I break my own rules, and write about a song not in the top 20 because I feel like it. So, who gets to follow in the footsteps of Willow Smith, Rebecca Black, and will.i.am?

For those of you just joining us, I have a love-hate relationship with Bruno Mars.  The guy’s strength is in old soul, as evidenced by some of his better production/writing credits and guest spots, but his solo hits rarely made a great impression with me. What was even more frustrating was that there was plenty of evidence that Mars didn’t have to be this way. I’d much rather hear a full version of “Grenade” like this than the awkward recorded one, and I was downright disappointed at the studio version of “Runaway Baby” after hearing the song’s amped up Grammy version. Wouldn’t it be great if Mars could make his studio stuff sound as slick as his pompadour?

He did, and it’s called “Locked Out of Heaven”.

While Mars never sounded like he was chasing the radio on Doo Wops & Hooligans, he also never as blatantly throwback as he does on “Locked Out of Heaven”. Kicking off with some The Police-style guitars (after a gratuitous drum stick count-in to say “Look at how live this is!”) and basic bass and drums, the verses are catchy in a toe-tapping kind of way. The little “Ooh!’–wait, or is it “Uh!”?–at the end of each line is far less annoying than it should be, and adds some organic texture to the song.

But then the chorus hits, and it’s clear that “Locked Out of Heaven” isn’t an all-vintage affair. There’s a big of clean guitar hiding back there, but some dreamy, New Wave synths are brought to the front. But even these don’t slow the song down, since the drum beat picks up. It’s unexpected and a little graceless the first time you hear it, but between the synths and Bruno’s “You make me feel like/I’ve been locked out of heaven for too loo-ooo-oong”, it’s a surprisingly well-done and huge chorus.

The more I think about it, the less surprising “Locked Out of Heaven” sounds. Ever since “Nothin’ On You”, we’ve known that The Smeezingtons, Bruno’s production team, favors live sounding, percussion heavy, instrumentation in a pop-rock sort of setup. But songs like “Lighters” and “It Will Rain” proved that they could do sprawling songs outside of that framework. Add in that the other producers on “Heaven” include Jeff Bhasker and Emile Hayine who have worked with Kanye West, fun., Lana Del Rey, and Kid Cudi, and it’s no wonder that “Heaven” marries funk with pretty production with some sense of decency.

So, “Locked Out of Heaven”. That’s a kinda cool title. But what does it mean?

“Never had much faith in love and miracles” Well that’s no way to get into heaven.

“But swimming in your world is something spiritual/I’m born again every time you spend the night” I know I make fun of a lot of lyrics, but that swimming/born again bit is clever. It plays to the song’s spiritual theme, but isn’t too obvious about what the song me–

“Cuz, your sex takes me to paradise/Yeah, your sex takes me to paradise” Aaaaand just like that, the subtlety’s gone.

“You make me feel like/I’ve been locked out of heaven/For too long” Damn, Bruno, how good of a lay is this person? Referring to the sex as heaven’s not exactly unheard of, but damn is “locked out of heaven” a dramatic metaphor. Is there a chastity belt involved?
While we’re at it, I’m not sure metaphors/similes are a good fit for Bruno Mars. We all remember “Grenade”, right?

“You bring me to my knees/You make me testify/You can make a sinner change his ways” I don’t know how I made this leap, but now I’m imagining a gospel choir doing a stirring rendition of “I Just Had Sex”. I really wish I could will this into existence.

“Open up your gates ’cause I can’t wait to see the light” What “light” is he referr–never mind, I don’t want to know.

I really like this song. The music’s sharp, Bruno sounds fresh, and I don’t even mind the lyrics. Sure, it’s an “I wanna sleep with you” song, but the writing’s decent, and at least it doesn’t bullshit you with anything about “love”. Hell, one of my favorite songs from last year wasn’t this subtle; I can’t pretend to be all high and mighty against “Locked Out of Heaven”. I don’t think it’s just good for Bruno Mars, I think it’s a good song full stop. Hell, I might have to preorder Unorthodox Jukebox now.

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Feedback: Green Day – International Superhits!

Posted on October 22, 2012 by bgibs122

The Greatest Hits Comp comes in many different flavors: a stop-gap for a project that’s been in utero longer than planned, a parting gift at the start of a hiatus, or a desperate commercial jump star for a fading career. Coming a year after Warning‘s disappointing sales–not to mention still living under what bassist Mike Durnt called “the shadow of [the band’s breakout hit] Dookie“–few singles compilations sound as desperate as Green Day’s 2001 release, International Superhits!. The album consists of two acceptable-but-not essential new songs, and a generous 19 singles spanning from 1994’s Dookie to Warning in 2000. Maybe it’s the finality of quiet, somber “Macy’s Day Parade” as a closer, but it’s possibly if not easy to listen to International Superhits! as a last “Well guys, it’s been real” wave goodbye before Green Day resigned themselves to a decade of constant club and ballroom tours.

But, as history has shown, that was anything but the case.

As a kid who first got into music in 2004, I don’t feel particularly bad for admitting that American Idiot was my first Green Day album. Hell, I would have had to try really hard for it to not be; Idiot became synonymous with Green Day, so much so that I was surprised that one of that album’s inserts advertised the band’s six other studio albums and compilations. Before then, like many, I hadn’t considered that Green Day was a band entering its second decade on a major label. I picked up IS the next time I had a chance, if only because it was on sale.

What makes IS interesting in 2012 is that it casts Green Day in a light that’s impossible to see them in now. It’s a light that doesn’t walk the boulevard of broken dreams, know the enemy, or want to kill the DJ; a band without eyeliner or rock operas or triple albums written into its DNA. Instead, we see a bunch of slackers whose first major label single was about being a bored, lonely teen who spends all of his time jacking off. It’s an album from when Green Day was a 90’s holdover with occasional airplay before American Idiot turned them back into, well, an international superhit.

It was an unpredicted hit, too; part of what made AI big was that it was such a dramatic departure from the trajectory the band had  followed before. If, hypothetically, “American Idiot” had been included on IS, the transition it would make from “Macy’s Day Parade” would be more jarring than the relatively smooth transitions from “She” to “Geek Stink Breath” or “Stuck With Me” into “Hitchin’ a Ride”.

International Superhits! arranges singles in chronological order instead of trying anything fancy with the tracklisting. This, along with each album getting at least four cuts (Dookie gets five, and “Brain Stew” and “Jaded” from Insomniac are a twofer), means that you get the gist of each one: Dookie‘s zany adolescent neuroses, the drug addled self-deprecating darkness on Insomniac, nimrod.‘s variety and maturity, and the folkier influence on Warning are all put on display. There are small sacrifices–surely “86” or “No Pride” would represent Insomniac better than “Walking Contradiction”, and nimrod. and Warning‘s more experimental musical detours are passed up, but no glaring omissions; 90’s Green Day had surprisingly smart single choices.

I remember that after getting International Superhits!, the thing lived in my CD player so long that I could have charged it rent. It works as an effective advertisement for any of the records it represents, but it also has consistency that makes it a great standalone. From the beginning, Green Day’s used slacker attitude to hide raw musical talent (particularly from bassist Mike Dirnt and drummer Tre Cool), and while Warning in particular got praise for lyrical strength, Billie Joe Armstrong’s been a strong songwriter since Dookie. He makes the protagonists for “Longview” and “Basket Case”–probably unlikeable people if you met them–borderline sympathetic, and spins gruesome but not alienating tales on songs like “Hitchin’ a Ride” and “Geek Stink Breath”. “Brain Stew” is similarly impressive for how economic it is; the song wrings physical misery out of three basic stanzas.

But even the lyrics wouldn’t hold up as well were the music not so endlessly catchy and energetic. The band’s specialty in manic, three chord pop punk is on display here, but the variety in the extra heavy “Hitchin’ a Ride” or mostly-acoustic “Warning” is a strength instead of a weakness. Balladry from “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)”, “Redundant”, and “Macy’s Day Parade” highlights the poignancy and impact of the songs (even if the world at large has collectively heard “Good Riddance” enough that its essentially lost all meaning).

For this Feedback, the point isn’t that International Superhits! is a particularly overlooked compilation (it’s shipped over a million copies), but that it’s a time capsule from a band who doesn’t really exist anymore. We’ve been so exposed to Green Day as a high-concept rock band that’s all politics, guyliner, and bluster (and something of a punchline) that we’ve missed seeing them as a bunch of guys banging out consistent material without looking like they’re trying. Even if few of them were actual international superhits or hits in the first place, this incarnation of the band–and this compilation–exists as a solid one-stop shop for big name 90’s pop punk.

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Radio Rant: Maroon 5 – One More Night

Posted on October 10, 2012 by bgibs122

Hello, and welcome to Radio Rants. Today, we’re back with everyone’s favorite sorta-band, Maroon 5!

Until “One More Night”, it’s been a year of silver trophies for The Adam Levine Band. Their first single “Payphone” only peaked at number 2 on the Hot 100 and the Songs of Summer chart thanks to “Call Me Maybe”, and their album Overexposed was denied the top honor by Linkin Park’s new record (although that could be because it isn’t very good). It seems as if the band’s decision to embrace Top 40 wholeheartedly hasn’t paid off quite as well as they’d hoped.

That is, until “One More Night”.

Maybe it’s because no one could hold onto the spot, maybe it’s because there’s no Carly Rae Jepsen in the way, or maybe it’s because there’s no awful guest verse on this one, but “One More Night” beat out “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” and “Whistle” for number one for the past two weeks. Must be good, right?

Well…kinda? One of the more recurring labels Maroon 5 gets slapped with is being inoffensive, and “One More Night” is as inoffensive as they come. Although, to its credit, the first time that you hear that the reggae beat and flanged, upstroke guitar, it’s a little jarring that this is really Maroon 5. But that “Ooooh, ooooh, oooooh, ooh oooh” falsetto is all Levine, and from there, the song is so repetitive that by the time it’s over almost four minutes later, it’s easy to forget that “One More Night” is an anomaly. It’s also kind of easy to forget the song itself.

One of the more cloying aspects of “One More Night” is how its produced. Shellback and Max Martin (who also have writing credit) produce the song like a pop hit, all slick and polished with extra sound effects added into the mix. The problem is that the production doesn’t really fit the song–unlike “Payphone”, “One More Night” sounds like it was written by a band. But there’s no pop hook to lean on, and the band doesn’t do anything aside from a few bass riffs to deviate from the song’s bounce. It’s almost as if Max Martin and Adam Levine looked at each other, expecting the other to make sure the song had something catchy about it.

That’s not to say that “One More Night” doesn’t have anything going for it. The instrumentation’s nice, and even if it’s repetitive and played out by the time the song’s over, the groove’s kinda cool. The melody tanks, though; it barely exists, and when it does, there’s almost deviation. The bridge is a little different, but only minimally so. The tone is also conflicted; on one hand, “One More Night” has that reggae, Fun In The Sun setup, but on the other hand, the processing and the reverb on the guitar makes it sound chilly. Maybe the lyrics will decide it. So, Levine, are you and the implicit chick fighting or fucking this time?

“You and I go hard–please tell me Maroon 5 did not just say “hard”–at each other like we’re going to war” So is this fighting or fucking yet?

“You and I go rough, we keep throwing things and slamming the doors” Fighting it is!

“But baby there you go again, there you go again/making me love you/Yeah, I stopped using my head/using my head let it all go” This is a “why can’t I quit you?” song?

“Got you stuck on my body, on my body like a tattoo” If she’s “stuck on your body”, you might want to see a doctor. At least they didn’t go with “like you’re glue”.

“So I cross my heart and I hope to die/that I’ll only stay with you one more night” It’s kind of like Maroon 5’s material, if you think about it. “This is the last song we’ll write about a relationship, we swear!” I wish there was a way to get Adam Levine and Taylor Swift to collaborate on an album of slightly obsessing, passive-aggressive songs towards an ex that probably doesn’t want anything to do with them.

“Try to tell you no, but my body keeps telling me yes/Try to tell you stop, but your lipstick got me so out of breath” Uh, guys? I don’t think you’re talking about love. Hell, it’s Maroon 5 we’re talking about; anytime their songs mention love, I want to put quotation marks around it, anyway.

Like I said, “One More Night” is as inoffensive and immemorable as they come. It’s kind of fun for what it is, but it doesn’t go anywhere with it, and that’s what does the song in. The initial gimmick of “Maroon 5 does reggae” runs out of shock value quick, and “One More Night” plods along with the same inevitability as its subject swears by. She might remember you, and you might remember her, but I’m not going to remember this.

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