New Music: Pebaluna – Carny Life

Pebaluna bill themselves as a collective as opposed to a band. And, while I’ve heard “collective” used as shorthand for, “Yeah, none of us really know who does what”, the description fits Pebaluna to a tee. Carny Life is a free-flowing record that takes its turns naturally and easily, a tone no doubt bolstered by its almost exclusively acoustic instrumentation. It’s the work of a collective: there is always a direction, but many hands guiding the way.

The opening duo of “All Falling Down” and “No, I Can’t” exemplify this with ringing clarity. “All Falling Down” begins simply enough as a jazz-chord dominated number before switching time-signatures and introducing a spiraling bassline, then jumps right back into common time. It also makes a deft transition into a surprisingly hard hitting chorus, and is a great start to the album. “No, I Can’t”, covered before, still has that soulful swing and slow build that made it delightful the first time.

The quickie genre description of Pebaluna would peg them somewhere between “indie folk” and “indie country”, but even those are a little off the mark. Such a description fits “Sister Sara” or the soothing “Baby What’s Wrong”, but miss the ruckus of the album’s back half. The folk/country set up is there; Pebaluna is founded on acoustic and electric guitars, bass, and drums, and horns and fiddles zigzag through Carny Life, but the collective jumps through stylistic hoops, too. Utter standout “Hopeless” has all the fire of an old Motown cut, while “No, I Can’t” dabbles in ukulele heavy R&B. Not exactly what you’d expect from a label like “indie folk”.

One easy thing to notice about Pebaluna’s influences is that there’s a lack of modernity to them. It’s hard to argue there, but the group doesn’t honestly seem to have a need for them. If they feel like a relaxed vintage-country number with a pleasant bob to its melody (the title track), then they go for it. If they feel like a frantic, drum-heavy tune with a guitar solo and gospel influences, they’ve got a “Please Me” for that. What’s more is that even with the older influences and inspiration, Carny Life never sounds dated or gimmickly throwback. It sounds natural.

This affinity is in no small part due to vocalist Lauren Coleman. A talented and trained singer, Coleman always sounds sure of herself, and performs with confidence. She’s also nuanced, and able to play to any song’s mood. She’s sweet on the album’s calmer songs, but there’s also plenty of fun to be had hearing her cut loose on tracks like “Please Me” and “Honey”; songs that play out to the back of the room. Her lyrics are those of Americana; heart-break, despair, hope, and fun. Carny Life favors a narrative lyrical style that paints detailed pictures of a particular slice of life.

The most glaring flaw to Carny Life is how heavily it stacks its second half. After making a great first impression with “All Falling Down” and “No, I Can’t”, the next three songs downshift the collective’s energy and focus more on craft and mood. Each composition is well done, but hearing the three midtempo songs in succession bleeds their edges, and douses some of the album’s fire. From “Honey” onward, the group’s firing on all cylinders (even “Siren Song” has some forward motion by way of its murky instrumentation) until the warm ukulele singalong of “Sunshine Lullaby”.

Carny Life clocks in at 35 minutes, and gets plenty of mileage out of each one. Some sequencing issues aside, it’s a well put together record by a collective that’s exploring where they can go and how they can develop their sound. There are clear peaks, but few discernible lows, and I’d recommend this one to anybody looking for quality fall music.

Stay in touch with Pebaluna on their Facebook page, or check their store if you’re interested in buying Carny Life (also available on Spotify).

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Billboard’s Songs of the Summer 2012

With summer (sadly) officially over, Billboard has posted their annual list of the biggest songs of the summer. And, per usual, I’ve decided to give them a look! Did your favorites make the list? What about your least favorites? How about mine? Well, let’s take a look!

10. Flo Rida – Whistle
Billboard’s Songs of the Summer list is comprised of the season’s runaway hits; the songs that you found on the charts, the radio, YouTube, your best friend’s iTunes, and probably the moon. Between May and September, these are the songs you could not get away from, or enough of.

Oh, and “Whistle”.

“Whistle” is a late arrival, probably bumping off something like “What Makes You Beautiful” only because it managed to get the number one spot a few weeks ago. And, as much as I don’t like this song…I can’t bring myself to really hate it. It’s not so bad it’s good or anything, it’s just so mindlessly dumb that I can’t justify the effort. It falls so flat on its face at being seductive that it almost U turns into being entertaining again, like a drunk guy doing a point and wink at somebody. But I won’t miss “Whistle” when it’s gone.

9. Nicki Minaj – Starships
Oh, “Starships”, how far you’ve come. Back when you appeared in Young Money Madness, you didn’t even have your own barely relevant video. “Starships” isn’t impressive in itself, but it has done the impressive: it’s been Minaj’s one consistent hit off her otherwise misfire Roman Reloaded album. In the context of that album, “Starships” is a refreshingly solid banger leading into half an hour of spastic monotony. Outside of it…well, the hook’s alright. I read somewhere that Minaj slapped the verses together right before recording, and it shows. “Starships” is a big, empty pop song. Nothing wrong with that on its face, but Nicki Minaj is one of the artists that can do this exact same thing with way more character and fun. Hell, she’s proved that already.

8. David Guetta ft. Sia – Titanium
Finally, one I haven’t touched yet. I don’t mind David Guetta when he’s not in “keep it simple, stupid” mode, although his house-pop thing is getting kind of old. This song’s been a single since late December, but it was Sia’s performance on “Wild One” that finally pushed it into public consciousness. And Sia gets to do more here than she ever did on Flo’s song, which is always nice. My only two real complaints are that the lyrics are pretty eh, and that the explosion at the chorus isn’t that big, despite a killer build up. I thought about Radio Ranting this one a couple times, but had trouble coming up with anything to really say about it other than it was an above average song.

7. fun. ft. Janelle Monae – We Are Young
I can’t pinpoint when, but sometime between the Radio Rant for “We Are Young” and now, my opinion on the song soured hard. I don’t get that; it’s essentially a big, indie rock anthem, and I’m a sucker for big, indie rock anthems. I guess it’s just too on the nose for what it’s trying to be: the production is fussy, the lyrics are damn near meaningless, the song drops the actually interesting part in a hurry, and Janelle Monae–one of the most captivating artists out there today–is reduced to an uninspired blink-and-you’ll-miss-it cameo. Listening to it as a whole, the song is just too tedious for me, and not fun at all.

6. Rihanna – Where Have You Been
Aaaaaaaand here’s the other one I never got to this summer. Whereas I didn’t review “Titanium” because I didn’t have a ton to say on it, I steered clear of “Where Have You Been” because there’s nothing to say about it. Out of everyone out there today, Rihanna is single-iest single artist; at pretty much any time, there’s “the big Rihanna single” out. Despite a surprising four minute run time, the guts of “Where Have You Been” is in those anxious, stabbing synths at the chorus. Like “We Found Love”, the chorus and the accompanying build-up are the best part of the song, but while WHYB has way less going for it as a song than WFL ever did. WFL’s verses were just as strong as the chorus (granted, they were basically the same thing), but the rest of “Where Have You Been” resembles “Sexy and I Know It” way more than I’d like. This isn’t a bad song, just really boring. Gah, I hate how snobby I sound.

5. Ellie Goulding – Lights
Would you believe that in a year that includes number ones by a blip on the indie radar, a guy who’d never been heard of on this continent, and a plausible Robyn Sparkles singlethis is still the one that baffles me? “Lights” is in week number 37 on the charts, and even worked its way all the way up to number 2 during the summer. And, like I mentioned in its Radio Rant, the song’s accomplished all of this basically on its own: no Glee, no viral video, no super promotion, nothing. It’s just a really sleek neo-disco electropop song that’s incessantly catchy, won’t go away, and is one of my favorites of the year. Ellie Goulding’s next album is due here in a month or two, and I’m looking forward to hearing what else she’s got.

4. Katy Perry – Wide Awake
Meanwhile, I’m glad to see this artist go. It wouldn’t be a Songs of the Summer list without Katy Perry, whose been up and down these things since I started writing about them in 2010. Of her Teenage Dream singles, “Wide Awake” is the most mild, but not the most likeable. Once you get past the fact that has all the spark and visceral nature of waiting room music, it’s not so bad a song, but there’s nothing really that special about it, either. One thing I noticed is that, despite being reasonably popular, no one seemed to really love this song; I never heard anyone sing it, it wasn’t an all-occasions must…hell, it barely seemed to exist. I’ve tried liking “Wide Awake”, but it leaves me sleepy and grumpy.

3. Gotye ft. Kimbra – Somebody That I Used To Know
The other indie song to make it big this year is “Somebody That I Used To Know”, which is tied to “We Are Young” not only because they have similar backgrounds, but because they were no. 1s back to back, and stayed close together for most of their chart run. I was ambivalent towards both songs at first, and while my opinion on “We Are Young” went south, I’ve only liked “Somebody That I Used To Know” more and more as time goes by. It lends itself to more replays than I first thought, and it’s got a stronger melody you’d think. And it’s just fun to sing along with, to boot. Kimbra’s part is what makes the song interesting, and gives the “woe is me” aspect a nice kick in the ass. Yeah, I like this one.

2. Maroon 5 ft. Wiz Khalifa – Payphone
I’m a little surprised that “Payphone” made its way this high. I honestly expected it to trade places with “Wide Awake” or “Somebody”, not end up all the way at number 2. Looking back, it makes sense–the song benefited from being released just as summer started, and never really waned until recently, once “One More Night” started getting serious airplay. I Radio Ranted this one when it first came out, and since then, I’ve pretty much ignored it. “Payphone”‘s always struck me as an awkward song: the metaphor’s weird and undeveloped, the vocals are processed and irritating, and Wiz strikes out hard on his verse. Unfortunately, I imagine plenty more Maroon 5 in my future. Grrrrreat.

1. Carly Rae Jepsen – Call Me Maybe
Ok, let’s not bullshit each other: You and I both knew damn well this year’s Songs of the Summer was “Call Me Maybe and 9 Other Songs”.

Watching the ascension of “Call Me Maybe” earlier this year was one of the more fascinating things I’ve seen since I started this blog. It wasn’t a song that you heard of, it was a song you heard about. Your first exposure to “Somebody That I Used To Know” was probably hearing it somewhere, then looking it up/asking a friend who did it. “Call Me Maybe” was the song you heard because your friends played it for you. It became a thing here and there, but as we rolled into summer, it built up steam. I had two thoughts about it as the song was getting big: how funny would it be if “Call Me Maybe” went to number one, and how much it would not go away if it did.

Well, it happened. The little, incessant pop song that could went from a one-off from a Canadian Idol 3rd place contestant to a hit big enough that it let Carly Rad Jepsen make another album. On most levels, it’s still a pretty unremarkable pop song, but it’s just so damn likeable. And it’s the official 2012 song of the summer.

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Radio Rant: Taylor Swift – We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together

Hello, and welcome to Radio Rants. Who’ve we got today?

It took her awhile, but this year, I honestly thought Taylor Swift was finally taking her first steps at writing songs for people old enough to vote. After already dabbling in slightly more grown-up themes on her last album Speak Now, her two contributions to The Hunger Games soundtrack both struck me as more mature than dippy, doe-eyed songs like “You Belong With Me”, “Love Song”, and “Fifteen”. Even if she had a leg up from The Civil Wars for one of them. But no, I finally thought that the leading voice of teeny pop country had finally aged out of “Dear diary: Boys *giggle*” level songwriting.

And then.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard an artist slam the creative brakes this hard. Yeah, her Speak Now and onward material wasn’t brilliant itself, and had plenty of room for silliness, but even with “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”, there’s clearly something less distinct, and less fun about it. For example, here’s the debut single from her last album cycle. Is it not a great song? Absolutely. Is it all soft edges and fairly twee? You bet. Does it sound like a Taylor Swift song? Without a doubt.

And that’s one of the flaws with “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”: only 2 of those last 3 apply to it. The first time I heard this song, all stomping pop drums and processed sounding guitar, it didn’t register as Taylor Swift until I really listened to it. Before that, I honestly didn’t know who did it because the song has such a bland sound. If you get rid of the background acoustic guitar, this could pass for Katy Perry or Jessie J. Which comes as no surprise since “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” was cowritten by Max Martin and Shellback, who also produced (production credits include P!nk, Britney, Adam Lambert, Kelly Clarkson, Ke$ha, Usher, your best friend in 2nd grade).

Also, who the hell names a song “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”? I get it, she doesn’t want to back to this person (never ever, as it seems), but couldn’t this be expressed any other way? There are infinite ways to describe that feeling: “Never”, “Not Happening”, “Fuck You” “Hell No”, “Glad To See You Go”, “Not In A Million Years”, “Get Out of My Life”, and “I Would Rather Strap Fireworks To My Ankles and Jump in a Camp Fire Than Go to the Movies With You” would get the same message across. It’s not the long title or the bluntness of it that bugs me; it’s that damn “ever”. “We are never getting back together” sounds a little dramatic, but holds up as something you’d possibly say. “We are never ever getting back together”, on the other hand, sounds so juvenile that I can’t say it out loud without wanting to smack myself because it sounds so unbearable. The first time I heard the title was from here on what was (I hope) a gag list. But, it fit right in because who, with a straight face, would tell the record execs, “My first single is called ‘We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together?'”

Of course, it could be more juvenile, like how the phrase is sung in the song: “We (wheee!) are never, ever, ever getting back together” What else do we have in the chorus?

“You go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to me” Gah, I remember doing this in AIM…wait, are those two lines really the whole chorus?

“I remember when we broke up, the first time/Saying this is it, I’ve had enough, ’cause like/We haven’t seen each other in a month, when you/Said you, needed space, what?” Serious question: Is this verse in iambic pentameter? If it’s not, then this…this is just a wreck of a pattern.

“Trust me, remember how that lasted for a day, I say? I hate you, we break up, you call me, I love you” Why does Taylor Swift have some of the sharper lines about the dumbest subject matter?

“And you, will hide away with some indie record/That’s much cooler than mine” Sounds like she was dating a Vampire Weekend fan.

There’s also a spoken-word bridge that proves Taylor Swift shouldn’t do scripted spoken-word bridges. Everything about it from her put-upon impression of her ex to her mock frustration reminds me that the biggest perk of not being a teenager is hearing people not talk like this. And it only highlights how obnoxious she is in the rest of the song.

But, who am I to even pretend like I was the target audience for this song? This is teen fangirl pandering at its strongest. My theory is that Swift’s singles from her last album, where she did all the writing, didn’t do that well (comparatively), and “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” is her Pop Producer Collaboration Number One Hit. Considering that the song rocketed to number one, it looks like it paid off. In fact, it’s kind of impressive how quickly this song made it that high despite seemingly no one liking it. Then again, I don’t have a lot of contact with 15 year olds. I can’t imagine the rest of Red being like this, or at least hope it isn’t, because otherwise that review is going to be torture.

“We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” bugs me. Whenever I hear this song, and the context it was made in, I think of fellow “Shut up and make the hits” artist Kelly Clarkson’s song “My Life Would Suck Without You”; both songs are rebound pop songs that got big after the artist tried a more personal album that didn’t do as well. But where “My Life” is manic and catchy on its own, “We Are Never” is catchy in a focus-group kind of way that’s predictable and too safe for its own good. I’m not even sure I want to be back together.

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Personal Choice: “Favorite” Vs. “Best”

Last week, Pitchfork unveiled “The People’s List”–a crowdsourced list of the best 200 albums in the 15 years that Pitchfork has been up. The intention was to gather an accurate snapshot at P-fork readers’, “varying backgrounds, environments, and personal preferences influence the music they love”. If you’re so inclined, you can go ahead and give the whole shebang a read here (spoilers: I hope you love Radiohead).

First, a quick comment on how the list was made; calling a list like this “The People’s List” assumes a bit much. In particular, the way to submit was through going to a Pitchfork page, and flipping through albums by year. The first choices given were what the P4k staff had deemed to be the important albums from that year (sidenote: even though the order the albums appeared in on the page was always random, OK Computer always found itself in the top row of the 1997 page for me. Hm). If you typed an album in, they would search their database for it, and failing that, you could add your own. Obviously, this skewed results towards albums with the ‘fork’s prior approval. But even more than that, for an entry to be considered valid, it had to have 20 albums on it. Even to a music jackass like me, this seemed like an arduous, self-absorbed task (and also a nice way to weed out some casual outliers). It kind of bugs me how a list could be called “The People’s” when seems so gleeful to exclude.

So, I could spent the next couple 100 words attacking the list for its narrow demographic (a mere 12% of those who entered identified as female, and the rankings for the female demographic deferred more from the main list than any other demographic), how terrible it was at non-rock genres (Food & Liquor and undun are nowhere to be seen, but Take Care makes the cut?), or for being the most obvious and boring list this side of a Rolling Stones feature, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, you already get the idea.

No, what makes me think when it comes to lists like this is the interplay between “best” and “favorite”, and what those two mean. Let me use a non-music example: last week, I pitched a simple question to my Facebook friends/followers on Twitter: “Avengers or Dark Knight Rises?” The overwhelming response went something like this: “Dark Knight Rises was the better film, but I enjoyed Avengers more”. That, to me, displays the difference between “best” and “favorite” more than anything else; sure, there’s a superior product, but you have a stronger affinity for a less “quality” one.

Which makes a list of favorites way more interesting than a list of someone’s bests. When I think of something for a “best”, I think of something that gets all of its checkmarks; in music that means stuff like: high production values, complex instrumentation, quality singing/rapping, complicated but understandable lyrics, etc. These things also have pretty wide appeal. Look at Adele’s 21 from last year for something that fits the bill.

Literally any album can be someone’s favorite, though. The little objectivity that music has in a “best” is thrown out the window in favor of picking music for pure enjoyment, and what someone enjoys tells you far more than what they consider the best. This is something that I first thought about a year and a half ago, when I made a list of my personal Top 10 records for the site. The first draft of my list included obvious sign posts like London Calling and In The Aeroplane Over the Sea, but then I thought about why I was putting those albums on the list. I asked myself if I was listing these albums because they were the records I held dearest, or because I wanted to look smart.

To clarify: I’m not saying that you should feel bad for liking brilliant albums. Arcade Fire’s Funeral, one of the commonly regarded best albums of the past decade, is one of my favorite albums, and barring a stupid great second half of the year, Frank Ocean’s Channel Orange is going to show up on my year end Best Of. All I’m saying is that a “People’s Choice” list should be a celebration of the music we love because we love it, not what we want to pick to look smart in front of everyone else. Because that’s what music should be about: the enjoyment of it, not snobbery.

PS: In Rainbows at number six? Seriously?

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