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(04/04/07 4:00am)
Spring is here again – and I’m hunkered in my apartment with the blinds drawn, trying to ignore it. But I can still hear it out there – birds twittering, basketballs dribbling, passers-by chatting amiably – like some sort of cloying siren, demanding I be like everyone else and join in the fun. “I’m spring,” it says, “I’m bright and happy – why don’t you love me?” Blech. Spring makes me sick. \nYou’re probably thinking, “How could anyone dislike spring?” Well, here are few reasons:\n• Sunlight. Besides the fact that unprotected exposure, over a long period of time, can kill you – or, at least, make you look like Robert Redford – there are all sorts of reasons a normal college student should see sunlight as the enemy. For one thing, by sneaking past window shades, curtains, etc., it tries to wake you up before noon. You wouldn’t take that from a roommate – why let spring off the hook? Then, it makes the world look bright and wonderful – always while you’re cramming for a test, struggling through a paper, nursing a hangover, recovering from being dumped, sick or otherwise of a contrary opinion. This is its way of mocking you – because spring hates you. (Winter hates you too, but at least by making temperatures unbearably cold, it’s upfront about it). \n• Spring evangelists. “It’s such a nice day – go outside!” “No.” “C’mon.” “No.” “C’mooonnnn!” Does fall or winter ever recruit people to pester you on their behalfs? No. I rest my case. \n• Hotties. Every year, spring comes and skin follows. Which is nice – if you’re attractive. If you’re marginally attractive, you face all sorts of pressure to become more so. For the rest of us, it’s just another not-so-subtle reminder about how we’re going to die alone. \n• Traffic. Spring always makes the local traffic worse – partly because people are inspired to walk and bike. Which I could sympathize with (if not empathize with – see “Sunlight” above) if not for all the folks dashing across busy streets in front of my car; or the bicyclists running stop signs, or weaving back and forth so you can’t pass them, or struggling up hills with narrow roads and no bike lanes. (I’m in favor of bike lanes – but, until they’re installed, I would think a Darwinian concern for self-preservation would make this last behavior far less common than it is.) However, what’s worse is that it inspires the people to drive who really shouldn’t. The people in convertibles who talk on cell phones while their stereos blare and their friends stand in the back hooting and waving their arms, poised to tumble out given a sharp enough turn. Again, nice to know that Darwin’s on the job – I just wish he left me out of it. \nWhat’s that you say, it also means classes are almost over? That’s right – bringing you that much closer to joining the world of temporary jobs and nine-to-five cubicle farms. Yes, oh happy spring.
(03/29/07 4:00am)
In the last stanza of "Watch The Tapes," the seventh track from LCD Soundsystem's Sound Of Silver, James Murphy sings: "Hey, the rock writer told me to tell you/ 'though you're great and you're brave/ you still lack that which makes you a star.'" Judging by Silver's quality, the rock writer is going to have to eat his words. Even better than LCD Soundsystem's terrific 2005 debut, this album is, to my ears, the first unambiguous album of the year contender -- and this in what's proving to be a very strong year for indie rock. \nLike the self-titled debut, Silver offers up analog dance tracks that are the aural equivalent of a well-tailored suit (or little black dress) -- songs whose crisp percussion and funky bass-lines (and, yes, handclaps and cowbell) will make you feel cool, even when doing something as mundane as walking to class. But the difference is that the band has injected a surprising amount of emotional heft behind them -- making Silver an unusual blend of heart and hips. Indeed, anyone throwing Silver into the stereo as a party soundtrack might be a bit disappointed to find that, while seven of its nine tracks are floor burners, "Someone Great" and "New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down" are actually quite sad. The latter is a piano ballad mourning the lost charms of a now gentrified, sanitized New York, while "Someone Great," with its quirky (but tender) instrumentation and vivid lyrics, is a stunningly beautiful elegy to a late friend. \nNot that things are generally all that serious -- in "Time To Get Away," "Us V Them" and "Watch The Tapes," Murphy plays the disco curmudgeon to great effect, sniping and grumbling while the beats compel him to have fun in spite of himself. "All My Friends" and "Sound Of Silver" build on the aging hipster theme introduced with LCD Soundsystem's celebrated single "Losing My Edge" -- but express a sense of contentment with growing older in counterpoint to "Edge's" neurosis. And "North American Scum," besides being an absolute stone-cold killer dance track, is a wry response to European anti-Americanism that could well become an anthem for many a backpacker. All this with plenty of "woo-oo's" and breaks that'll have you throwing your arms up in the air in spite of yourself. In the end, there's no fighting the system.
(03/28/07 4:00am)
My 10-year high-school reunion is coming up this summer, and I’m a bit nervous. Not that I’m doing well in the scheme of things, really. “Grad student” might not be as exciting of a job as “rock star” (or, OK, a lot of things) but it certainly beats “cubicle drone.” \nI’m balder, but also, believe it or not, fitter – and certainly better groomed. I’ve traveled quite a bit, had a fair number of adventures and made a lot of good friends. I’m not married and don’t have any kids – but, on the plus side, I’m not married and don’t have any kids. Best of all, I got out of the town I grew up in (as much as I love it) and I’m not living with my parents (as much as I love them). Still, I can’t shake a concern about whether I’ll measure up once I enter that high-school gymnasium to the sound of 90s pop hits. (I have no idea if this how it’ll actually go down – I’m just deferring to “Grosse Pointe Blank.”)\nBut I’m clearly not alone in this – the phenomenon has been dubbed “the quarter-life crisis,” and all you undergrads should know: It’s out to get you, too. The Boston Globe explained it thus: “there’s a phase of life – quarter-life – which, like adolescence and midlife, has its own set of challenges and characteristics. People get married later and have more transient careers than before. They are in debt longer, sometimes in school longer. The early to late 20s represents a time of extreme instability…” (Sept. 8, 2004). \nFor example, an American Sociological Association survey has found that far fewer 20-somethings have achieved the life “milestones” (such as financial independence, marriage, kids) than the baby boomers had by this point (ABC News, April 21, 2005). The result, said Damian Barr, a writer who’s researched the crisis, is that “the excitement of graduation fades. Real life sets in. And it’s expensive, ugly and competitive. We feel stressed, inadequate and somehow not quite as good as our peers. We feel poorer, less successful and less together” (The London Times, May 1, 2004).\nSo, what to do? In an MSN Encarta interview, authors Alexandra Robbins and Abby Wilner advise that 20-somethings forget worrying about the outward trappings of success or whether their lives are progressing according to some predetermined plan. That’s well and good – but might be better advice for you than it is for me (getting my bachelor’s from a small liberal-arts school, I was never able to count on working in my chosen field or becoming rich). \nYou should take the opportunity to make the most with what you’ve got – to do things that’ll give you plenty of stories to tell your old classmates when you see them and to only worry about making sure you’re happier, on balance, than not. That’s all.\nAlthough walking in with a hot girlfriend would be nice.
(03/22/07 4:00am)
The Fratellis' debut album, Costello Music, was just released in the United States last week, but you've probably already heard them without knowing it. The Scottish band's "Flathead" has been accompanying Apple's latest iPod commercial -- a job for which the song, with its alternation between a loping swing and pogo-inciting bursts, is ideally suited. But, infectious as "Flathead" is, you could reasonably wonder whether the rest of the album is any good. Apple advertising has a bit of a reputation for cherry-picking great singles from otherwise mediocre albums -- most famously Caesars' "Jerk It Out," but also The Living Things' "Bom Bom Bom" (for an iTunes-compatible phone) and U2's "Vertigo." So, if you like "Flathead," is Costello Music worth your hard-earned lucre?\nYes, actually. Indeed, one might ask whether Apple actually used the album's best track, as other up-tempo numbers such as "Henrietta" and "Chelsea Dagger" could have sold iPods just as easily. But, no matter -- the point is that Costello Music is a sustained burst of straight-forward hand-clapping, hip-shaking, club-hopping garage-punk fun very much in the vein of The Strokes' Is This It?, The Libertines' Up The Bracket or Hot Hot Heat's Make Up The Breakdown. \nNow, you may be thinking: "So what? There were a gazillion bands like that in the early noughties." And you'd be right -- but what sets The Fratellis apart is that they blend their late-'70s punk with elements harkening back even earlier, to the '50s rockabilly of Jerry Lee Lewis, Gene Vincent, Carl Perkins and (of course) Elvis Presley. They're not revivalists like The Stray Cats, but they do utilize the simple song structure, bouncing beat and sing-along choruses to terrific effect -- there's a reason songs like Vincent's "Be-Bop-A-Lula" still get people dancing, after all. \nSure, it's a little derivative -- and sure it gets a little samey as the album goes on -- but in an indie rock world that has been trending toward the painfully serious lately, Costello Music is a breath of fresh air. When you need a break from Neon Bible, give it a spin.
(03/22/07 4:00am)
Judging by the reviews of Kaiser Chiefs' sophomore album, Yours Truly, Angry Mob, it appears that someone from on high has declared a backlash against the neo-Britpop band -- the standard punishment for an indie/mainstream-straddling group with a hit debut (in Britain, anyway). A "5.0" from Pitchfork, one candle (or whatever their grading doohickee is) from Playlouder, an "F" from Stylus. Well, I guess I didn't get the secret backlash committee's memo. Yours Truly isn't perfect, and it's not quite as good as 2005's Employment, but it still holds some solid tunes. \nSpecifically, the album is front-loaded with great, high-energy sing-alongs. "Ruby," with its wistful vocals, synth/guitar interplay and exploding choruses, is what The Killers' Sam's Town could have been if they hadn't decided to become "serious artistes." "The Angry Mob," despite its muddy message about mob violence and media manipulation, employs dagger-sharp hooks and stomping choruses. Likewise with "Heat Dies Down," a breakup song that is also blessed with charmingly witty, bitter lyrics. And "High Royds," a fiery, galloping tune about returning home (and realizing how little you missed it), is a rare song about the rock star life that doesn't make you hate the writer.\nHowever, things weaken, starting with "Love Is Not A Competition (But I'm Winning)" -- a ballad with a better concept (its titular contradiction) than execution. Then, with "Thank You Very Much," "I Can Do Without You" and "My Kind Of Guy," the Kaisers churn out three back-to-back tracks with both morosely cynical lyrics and somewhat uniform composition (all are built around similar bouncy guitar riffs) -- thereby sucking some enjoyment out of the album's middle. The simple, boppy "Everything Is Average Nowadays" almost manages a late-album save -- but it's followed by the throwaway track "Boxing Champ." And after "Learnt My Lesson Well" a nice drum-heavy piece, things go out with a whimper -- the dull plodder "Try Your Best" and "Retirement," in sound and cynicism, almost a reprise of the earlier three-song fun-vacuum. \nBut, there's several worthwhile tracks here -- so, check 'em out, particularly if you liked Employment.
(03/22/07 4:00am)
Indie rock can come across sometimes as … well … kinda wimpy. And as much as we like sweet, heartfelt ballads or off-kilter pop experiments, sometimes you just want to ROCK. So, last weekend, while the indie world converged on the South By Southwest festival in Austin, Texas, we headed north to Indianapolis to check out two of the genre's more ferocious specimens: Bush-blasting garage-punks The Thermals and America's greatest bar band, The Hold Steady. \nAppropriately enough, the evening began with an apocalypse. Upon taking to the stage, The Thermals unleashed "Here's Your Future," their portrait of a right-wing fundamentalist dystopia. Sounds like standard punk material, right? But here's the thing: It's also catchy as hell -- a fact evidenced by the hipster heads compulsively bobbing around us. Now, with their third and most acclaimed album, The Body, The Blood, The Machine, The Thermals are gaining attention as much for writing deadly sharp hooks as for their message. And talking to front man Hutch Harris, it sounds like the former is going to take priority. Hutch said that he's considering moving away from the political focus of Body, Blood and its predecessor, 2004's Fuckin A. \n"I kind of want to make a record that specifically doesn't have something like that, something that's more about the songs …" unlike Body, Blood, Hutch said, "where it's just kind of too heavy for such simple songs." \nOne idea is to expand upon the concept behind their song "Back To The Sea," which is "about a person that ages to mid-30s or 40s and then starts devolving slowly into a monkey, then back into a fish. …" But Hutch also said he's interested in writing pop songs without a message. \nIndeed, The Thermals' future seems wide-open. They are looking at going beyond the two/three-minute bursts that have populated much of their work thus far. And having completed their three-album deal with Sub Pop, Hutch was noncommittal about whether they would switch labels. \n"I still love Sub Pop a lot," he said, noting their strong support for Body, Blood. "But it's like your first boyfriend or girlfriend -- you could be totally great, but then you don't know how much better it could be if you break up." \nBut, for all these tidbits about things to come, as the amps roared thunderously and we bounced along to infectious tunes like "End To Begin" and "Pillar Of Salt," only the present seemed to matter. \nForty minutes later, the sweet, energetic punk renaissance of the Thermals gave way to the force of nature that is The Hold Steady. Incorporating the classic sound of bands such as Thin Lizzy and The Band, this ultra-talented group of musicians have become, themselves, classic -- and people are beginning to notice. The place was packed as even more fans streamed in after the Thermals. We estimated 300 to 400 fans had poured into (and proceeded to trash) the Music Mill's immaculately clean space. The Hold Steady had never been to Indiana before in their current incarnation and were unsure of what to expect from an audience here. \nThe crowd was a mix of the hardcore party animals who tend to identify with Hold Steady's drug-reference and scene resurrection-laden lyrics along with confused indie kids who were there because they knew the Thermals and, hell, it was only $15 to get in. As the show progressed, the floor became more and more littered with the plastic cups of the hard-drinking Hold Steady crowd. The rowdy fans pressed the stage and screamed along with the epic, truth-ridden lyrics word for word. When they played "Chips Ahoy!" mid-set, the crowd echoed the catchy "whoa-oh-ohs" of the chorus. When they played the gorgeous love ballad "First Night," with its unmatched piano crescendos, during their crowd-demanded encore, there wasn't anyone who wasn't moved. \nThe twitchy, frenetic frontman Craig Finn worked the crowd from the onset, playing off the energy from his fans with spinning narration and erratically flying arms. The Tom Waits-loving stage character, Franz, played his massive piano parts with heart-wrenching passion and a never-ending grin. Hard rockin' bassist Galen Polivka wailed, while Tad Kubler and Bobby Drake (guitarist and drummer, respectively), played with fatal dedication like there was no tomorrow. It's obvious these guys have nothing to prove, laying it on the line every night for the love of the music and to tell the dramatic truths of growing up in the scene. \nTheir dedication to telling the highest highs and lowest lows of the scene-kid story comes through in their performance, just as their connection to their fans is directly reflected in their lyrics. Upon asking Franz about whether the sad, nostalgic anthems of killer parties and drugged-out kids are autobiographical, he told us that Craig's storytelling is mostly composites of people they've met along the way. "(Going to shows as a kid and being on tour) you meet strange people doing strange things, smart people doing dumb things and dumb people saying some really smart things." Those are the folks who inspire the epic stories of album staples Charlemagne, Holly, Gideon and the Chillout Tent. \nIn interviewing Franz, the Northeast native who formally joined the band during their second album, we learned about his musical ethic, one very different from his Midwestern bandmates. This difference, based in a jazz-heavy pathos and a desire to take highly experimental and aggressive modern music out of the concert halls and into dirty basement parties, has inspired the pathos-ridden sound on their third album, Boys and Girls in America. He said that the sound hadn't felt completely formed yet during their first two albums, but with the team effort behind Boys and Girls, they've "really hit on something" with a more melodic vision. Craig's stories began to be packaged in a catchier way, with repetitive refrains and heavier piano in combination with their giant rock guitar and bass sounds. In the future, Franz said he is possibly looking for a more experimental sound, but die-hard Hold Steady fans will just have to wait and see how this would intertwine with their traditional meat-and-potatoes riffs.\nNo interview with The Hold Steady would be complete without the burning question, "Do you guys actually party as hard as your lyrics suggest?" With his easy smile and not missing a beat, Franz responded, "Oh, yeah." The disconnect between fame and parties, he went on to explain, is that the craziest parties tend to happen when you're smaller, crashing at "some random sound guy's house with his 14 ferrets and a shooting range his back yard." Now that they're bigger, he said fans assume that they already have something better to do after the shows and they're too star-struck to ask. Franz lamented this disconnect and said he misses the days when they got to hang out more with "real people." So do yourself a favor and partake in your own rock renaissance by catching these two acts the next time they're in town. And, really, stick around and buy them a beer, but, be careful, Holly. There's a reason why their characters are always looking for redemption.
(03/21/07 4:00am)
This past weekend, in the course of co-writing an article, my partner and I were given the opportunity to interview members from two fantastic, critically-acclaimed, up-and-coming rock bands. (Which bands? Read tomorrow’s IDS Weekend to find out.) In undertaking this endeavor, I had faith that they would want to talk to us despite our being “lowly” student reporters (albeit for an award-winning paper) – and was proven right. Why? Because it has become so absurdly hard to introduce people to new music, that even great bands need all the publicity they can get. \nYou’ve probably heard some of the major reasons for this already: terrestrial radio conglomerates like Clear Channel with narrow, nationally-homogeneous playlists; Viacom’s near-monopoly on music video channels (they own MTV, MTV2, VH1, BET and CMT) and its seeming predilection for filling them with nonmusical programming; the major record labels’ tendency to concentrate marketing money behind established artists and formulas in the hope of a big payday, rather than hedge their bets on many newer sounds, etc. \nAnd some of the hopes for music’s future aren’t quite panning out either. The satellite radio broadcasters XM and Sirius are trying to merge; and MySpace, while providing an outlet for many, many bands, is simply a miserable, headache-inducing mess. \nThus, I find it amazing that the music industry is preparing to wipe out one of the most promising publicity outlets available (with the help of the federal government, no less). A March 2 ruling by the Library of Congress’ Copyright Royalty Board has mandated the more than doubling of royalties that Internet radio stations must pay to broadcast music (from 0.08 cents each time a listener hears a song to 0.19 cents by 2010) and will require broadcasters to pay a minimum $500 for each channel they offer. This 0.11 cent increase may not sound like much, but it adds up quickly given all the listeners, and significant Web broadcasters such as Kurt Hanson of AccuRadio and Tim Westergren of Pandora.com, have estimated that it will wipe out their businesses. This is on top of the fact that Internet radio already pays higher royalties than terrestrial radio, thanks to a profoundly misguided twist in the 1998 Digital Millennium Copyright Act which makes Internet broadcasters pay royalties not just to composers (as terrestrial radio does) but also to performers (as terrestrial radio does not – based on the fact that they are compensated by the free advertising radio provides). \nThis decision is so revolting that it has actually managed to get Clear Channel and National Public Radio to make common cause against it. In the latter case, as a noncommercial station, NPR would still be hit with a $500 per channel fee – as, I believe, would our own WIUX (I asked station manager Zach Pollakoff about this and, while he expressed doubt that it would affect WIUX too much, he said he thought it would make things more expensive).\nSo, if you love music, petition and bug your congresspersons. Here’s one place to start: http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/saveinternetradio/index.html.
(03/07/07 5:00am)
Thus far, this has been a great decade for reunions -- and not merely because it has given all of us a chance to enjoy classic groups who disbanded before we graduated from nappies. Much of its greatness is due to the fact that vitally important bands who were snubbed in their heyday have returned to receive the attention (and financial rewards) that they richly deserve -- The Pixies, Dinosaur Jr., The New York Dolls, Mission of Burma, Sebadoh, The Jesus & Mary Chain, etc. \nAnd so, you'd think that a new album by The Stooges -- who, in hindsight, proved to be one of the critical bands of the 20th century (and with the late bassist Dave Alexander replaced by Mike Watt of legendary '80s punk band The Minutemen!) -- would be a cause for celebration.\nWell, you'd be wrong. Oh dear God, you'd be wrong.\nAccording to a Dec. 19, 2006, Rolling Stone interview, while they recorded their new LP, The Weirdness, in a quick seven days, the band spent three years writing 40 pieces of music, from which Iggy Pop chose 12 tracks to add lyrics and vocals -- making Weirdness a far more conscientious undertaking than the quickly written, quickly recorded, drug-addled process behind the Stooges' late-'60s/early-'70s masterpieces. However, upon hearing Weirdness, the idea that it garnered more than a week's preparation will simply amaze you -- the band shows no chemistry, little energy and three-fourths of the tracks are made up of such similar, generic components that they sound like the aural equivalent of paint-by-numbers. In their prime, The Stooges roared like a force of nature -- Weirdness "roars" like four middle-aged dentists who jam in a garage on weekends.\nBut what makes Weirdness both truly awful and unintentionally hilarious is Iggy's lyrics. Now, no one should expect Iggy to be Dylan -- but song after song approaches Spinal Tap territory. My personal favorite comes at the very beginning, in "Trollin'": "I see your hair as energy / my dick is turnin' into a tree." In "Free and Freaky," he rhymes "ah, Obama," "Dalai Lama," "baby mama," "ooh, Madonna," "Benihana" and "intifada" to create 2007's most instantaneously dated song. And preciously, in "ATM," he criticizes rich, pampered rock stars who "no longer rock." So, Iggy, exactly how much do you make by licensing "Lust For Life" for Royal Caribbean Cruises commercials, again?
(03/07/07 5:00am)
Before diving into Air's latest album, Pocket Symphony, I should disclose a bit about my aesthetic biases. I tend to prize emotional release over technique -- or, more precisely, I prize music's ability to trigger a raw cathartic reaction rather than such intellectual bases as complexity or musicianship. Thus, I will always value hooks and big choruses over texture or sophistication -- I will, for example, always favor the early Beatles, to which I'll sing along, over their mature late-career work. \nThis matters because where you fall on this spectrum between gut and brain will determine your reaction to Symphony. This album is a melodic, elegant, meticulously constructed piece of work showing a great depth of thought and technical skill. And it's also, to a large extent, boring as hell.\nAir has always seemed a bit chilly for my tastes, but the pop pull was unavoidable on the best moments of their last album, 2004's Talkie Walkie. With Symphony, however, they dial things back to a more meditative, downcast tone -- there's no "Cherry Blossom Girl" or "Surfing On A Rocket" here. Instead, Symphony's best moments are those heartbreak ballads where the humanity escapes Air's crystalline production -- the twee (but charming) "Once Upon A Time" with its cascading keyboard run and gentle vocal hook; the stripped-down piano ballad "One Hell Of A Party," with great vocals from former Pulp front man Jarvis Cocker; and "Napalm Love," whose assorted elements build a mysterious sense of unease. And, OK, I have to bow before the technical majesty of "Mer Du Japon," which manages to be exciting despite being largely abstract (and taking a break in the middle for the crashing of waves).\nHowever, the rest, while pretty, makes for a fairly effective tranquilizer -- most notably the meandering instrumentals "Space Maker," "Mayfair Song," "Lost Message" and "Night Sight," which, with their use of reverb, washes and ambient hums, sound like parts of a Vangelis movie soundtrack. (Not to disparage Vangelis -- they've done good work -- but I find these tracks rather dull without actors, dialogue, cinematography and whatnot.) Likewise, "Left Bank," "Photograph," "Somewhere Between Waking And Sleeping" and "Redhead Girl," despite their vocals, are too uniformly subdued and distant to stir my soul (or whatever we music critics have).\nBut if you're currently grumbling about my lack of knowledge of musical theory (you're right) -- you might want to check it out.
(03/07/07 5:00am)
Last Friday, the Indiana Daily Student looked at student reactions to the selection of Michael McRobbie as the next IU president. In what’s becoming this semester’s theme, the article found that students were apathetic toward the announcement and ignorant of not merely its possible significance, but even its occurrence. \nI know you’re busy with midterms and spring break plans – but the shift to a new president could have a major impact on your lives here at IU, and if you don’t get involved or don’t stay informed, you might lose out. So, here are some reasons why we students need to not only pay attention to the current developments, but make sure that our voices are heard:\n• Student engagement. I was at Thursday’s trustee meeting and press conference where McRobbie was announced as the new president. The proceedings began with each trustee, in turn, expressing support for McRobbie and briefly discussing why he’ll do a good job – during this, only student trustee Casey Cox and McRobbie spoke about the importance of teaching (research, on the other hand, received much more emphasis). No one mentioned affordability, except in terms of diversity scholarships. When asked how he’d keep in touch with IU students, McRobbie said through his knowledge of University networks and contacts (rather than, say, directly). \nNow, I don’t think McRobbie means to snub students in any way – for example, his plan to convene student task forces to update the “living and learning environment” at IU and IU-Purdue University at Indianapolis sounds pretty neat – but it’s worth remembering that, having been an IU administrator for a decade, it has been awhile since he has worked with students extensively. If students don’t speak up before the inevitable conflicts come between, say, teaching and research, or affordability and excellence, they could find their interests losing out to those of other groups in the IU community.\n• Graduate education. When I asked McRobbie about the status of graduate student health and dental care, he said that he is planning to conduct a comprehensive review of the state of graduate student support, as he’s concerned that insufficient support could hurt IU’s competitiveness. This didn’t surprise me, both because of his emphasis on research and due to his expressed goal of recruiting new faculty to replace the retiring baby boomers (things to which graduate students will be instrumental). Still, it’s good to know that if graduate students keep pushing on this issue, we might achieve some change.\n• Diversity. In a speech to the Bloomington Rotary Club, McRobbie announced a plan “to double IU’s minority student enrollment by 2013.” At the press conference, he stated that he’s completing a proposal that would provide the funding for the first year of this effort. Still, details at the press conference were rather vague – again, showing a need for student awareness.\nIn short, we’re at a crossroads in IU’s future. If the University is to go the direction you want, you must show the way.
(03/01/07 5:00am)
You'd think that recording one of the decade's greatest rock albums, praise from David Bowie, gracing the cover of Time magazine's Canadian edition, opening for U2 and touring the world would make Arcade Fire happy. But Neon Bible, their sophomore album due out March 6, belies this notion. Chock-full of paranoia, despair, loss, betrayal, war, religious demagoguery, media malfeasance and apocalyptic visions, Neon Bible could be the darkest modern rock LP since Radiohead disappeared into their cave (it's even more depressing than Arcade Fire's 2004 debut, Funeral). But don't worry, that's a good thing. \nArcade Fire works in angst like Van Gogh worked in oil paint -- piling it on, building it up in layers, not so much brushing it on as sculpting it toward an ultimate vision. Indeed, this deliberateness, I suspect, will become the heart of the inevitable debate over how well Neon Bible compares to Funeral.\nFirst, here's what's the same: Arcade Fire remains a big, ambitious, heavy, baroque, anachronistic, orchestral chamber pop operation -- traditionally nonrock instruments make their appearance (most notably violins and organ), oblique references abound, lyrics slip into French and Win Butler sings his tortured heart out. In another review two weeks ago, I called Arcade Fire the opera of indie rock -- play either of their albums at neighbor-alienating volume and you'll hear what I mean. \nBut Neon Bible is more cohesive than Funeral -- the various song elements often rest on a backbone of mid-tempo percussion and guitar strums, which gradually ramp up to an explosive conclusion (likewise, the album itself builds to a climax in "No Cars Go," a turbo-charged version of the song from Arcade Fire's self-titled EP). There are neither so much the stomping anthems like "Rebellion (Lies)" nor the sweet ballads like "In The Backseat." And, strikingly, Butler's better-half, Regine Chassagne, is relegated to background vocals. In all, this means that the album is less immediately appealing -- but it also has a greater emotional payoff when taken as a whole. \nAnd, besides, there are many individual tunes other than "No Cars Go" that'll get your heart beating -- a swinging ode to paranoia ("Keep The Car Running"), a soaring condemnation of mindless obedience ("Intervention"), a hard-charging attack on stage parenting ("Antichrist Television Blues") and "Windowsill," which provides plenty of good reasons to say to hell with this world and join Radiohead in their cave.
(02/22/07 5:00am)
Neo-'60s folk-pop purveyors The Magic Numbers are back with Those The Brokes, the follow-up to their critically acclaimed 2005 self-titled debut. And, in a nutshell, Brokes reminds me of the subject of my first great adolescent crush: pretty, but dull.\nIndeed, just by scanning information from Allmusic, Amazon and iTunes and being familiar with the band's sound (or its influences), one can predict what'll be wrong with Brokes before even listening to the album. Take the following into consideration: (1) the band makes sweet, sunny, laid-back AM radio pop likened to The Mamas & The Papas; (2) Brokes is more than an hour long with 13 tracks; (3) seven of those tracks are more than five minutes long, three are more than six minutes! In other words, the band has taken their success to mean not just that listeners want to hear more of them in terms of new songs, but that listeners want to hear more in terms of sheer running time. The Magic Numbers' debut was not a tight, rigidly disciplined affair (how could it be?), but it's a greyhound compared to Brokes' ponderous bloat. And, we're not talking about prog rock or orchestral chamber pop here -- long songs that change things up, twist in new directions, feature bold hooks, etc. -- we're talking about mid-tempo tunes with male-female "woo-ooo" harmonies and innocuous lovey-dovey lyrics. Thus, starting with the fourth track, "Carl's Song," nearly every successor overstays its welcome by at least a minute. And given the subtlety of the differences between some tracks, much of the album's middle blends into one vast puddle of indistinct prettiness -- the result being that, for an active listener, "laid-back" slides into "comatose" (at least, until 11th track, "Runnin' Out," briefly jolts you awake).\nIt's a shame, since, judging by the first three songs, things didn't have to be this way. The ending chorus of "This Is A Song" is kind of lame (seriously, "This is a song / these are the words"?), but the momentum and hooks are engaging; "You Never Had It" delivers the goods that many of the other songs promise, except in under three minutes; and "Take A Chance" is a very fun, lighthearted dance tune (and, unsurprisingly, the album's first single).\nAnd don't discount the loveliness of the harmonies here, Brokes makes for nice background music. Just don't expect much more from it.
(02/21/07 5:00am)
Ever since bubble gum pop took over the mass media in the late ’90s (having since declined – thank God), I’ve had a theory about the genre’s secret origins. It’s an absurd, mad theory with absolutely no evidence – but I like it. It goes something like this:\nBritney Spears, Justin Timberlake, Jessica Simpson, Christina Aguilera, the rest of NSync, the Backstreet Boys, Lindsay Lohan, perhaps Mandy Moore and Hilary Duff are all products of a secret cloning project run by the Walt Disney Company. \nBuried a mile beneath Orlando, Fla., in a discarded Cold War bunker complex is a laboratory where rows upon rows of protoplasm-filled tanks are linked to a computer-controlled life-support system. There, “imagineers” in white lab coats splice together genetic material gathered from the cast of the original 1955-1959 run of the “Mickey Mouse Club” – and possibly its later incarnations and other teen idol projects as well (I’m looking at you Hayley Mills). \nAfter the desired combination of genes is selected, it’s injected into a blank egg, then treated with rapid-development hormones – and, once the brain is sufficiently mature, it’s subjected to constant subliminal programming to make it docile and receptive to choreography. Once the clone has grown to the equivalent of a 15- to 18-year-old human, it’s fished out of the tank, cleaned up, sent to wardrobe, taken to the studio to lay down some vocals for the producers, directed to gyrate its sweaty abs in a music video – then unleashed into the wide world of “TRL,” “Now That’s What I Call Music!” CDs, Pepsi commercials and ABC Family programming. Voila: instant pop star!\nOK, this might be a bit of an exaggeration. But Britney’s decidedly Frankenstein-monsteresque, dome-denuding meltdown this past weekend got me wondering whether, as a culture, have we finally turned a corner – whether we’ve reached the point where the species of tightly-controlled, perfectly-polished, wholly-manufactured celebrity is doomed to extinction. \nThere are three patterns that make me suspect this. First, technology has made the public eye virtually inescapable (anyone with a camera phone can be a paparazzo). Second, if there’s one theme to YouTube and reality TV, it’s making celebrities out of people for being themselves (sort of) instead of building them a perfect, focus group-tested image and making them abide by it (although some reality TV still tries). And third, it’s worth noting that those celebrities pressed into being perfect plastic-image creatures keep unraveling in spectacular fashion – it’s not just that they’re undergoing their regular divorces and drug addictions, it’s that they’re exploding, spiraling off in all sorts of strange and disturbing directions. Mel Gibson, Tom Cruise, Michael Jackson and now Britney – all seem kind of scary to be around. \nNow, I don’t expect the world of public relations flacks and marketers to disappear, but, maybe, just maybe, all these things are adding up to a world where it’s simply too hard to be fake. At least, until Disney perfects its clone recipe.
(02/15/07 5:00am)
Did you have a happy Valentine's Day? No, of course you didn't. Valentine's Day is a perfect nexus of disappointment and depression -- it takes all the problems surrounding dating and relationships and spends a day cramming them down your throat. Any holiday can disappoint, but while Christmas disappointment is getting a crappy sweater, for Valentine's, it's knowing that you will never be as lucky as the couples glorified around you. And Valentine's manages to get just about everyone: Single? You're a loser who's doomed to die alone. Dating? You'd better spend more, work out more, get everything JUST RIGHT -- and, in the end, was your date worth it? Married? Did your life turn out like those couples in the "diamond is forever" commercials? \nWhy not enlist the power of music to get you through the post-Valentine's blues? Below, I've come up with three strategies to help you out, and a few song suggestions to go along with each. I know this list leaves out loads of good stuff, and it's biased toward my inclinations (as an indie rock fan) -- I don't pretend to claim that it's definitive. These are just a few ideas to help you get down while you're, you know, down.
(02/15/07 2:54am)
Did you have a happy Valentine's Day? No, of course you didn't. Valentine's Day is a perfect nexus of disappointment and depression -- it takes all the problems surrounding dating and relationships and spends a day cramming them down your throat. Any holiday can disappoint, but while Christmas disappointment is getting a crappy sweater, for Valentine's, it's knowing that you will never be as lucky as the couples glorified around you. And Valentine's manages to get just about everyone: Single? You're a loser who's doomed to die alone. Dating? You'd better spend more, work out more, get everything JUST RIGHT -- and, in the end, was your date worth it? Married? Did your life turn out like those couples in the "diamond is forever" commercials? \nWhy not enlist the power of music to get you through the post-Valentine's blues? Below, I've come up with three strategies to help you out, and a few song suggestions to go along with each. I know this list leaves out loads of good stuff, and it's biased toward my inclinations (as an indie rock fan) -- I don't pretend to claim that it's definitive. These are just a few ideas to help you get down while you're, you know, down.
(02/15/07 12:01am)
Romantic Love, a cultural icon best known for inspiring millions of greeting cards, was found dead on Wednesday. He was more than 900 years old.\nThe cause of death was still undetermined by press time, but police said that the body's state indicated that he had been dead for some time. "There was little more left than a dried-out husk," said Detective Vincent Lupercalia, "And there were signs of predation, gnaw marks. We've brought in Celine Dion for questioning." Friends and relatives were likewise uncertain about the cause of death, but indicated that Love had been ill for some time. \n"Look at all his latest projects," cousin Platonic Love said, 'The Bachelorette,' 'Beauty and the Geek,' that last season of 'Flavor of Love'… I'm not sure if it was dementia, but he clearly wasn't well." The body was found by landlady Venus Grabyewski, who said she had entered Love's apartment after attempting to contact him for weeks. "He hadn't paid the rent in three months, I was trying to evict him," she said, "He was totally bankrupt."\nAlthough Love's precise birth date remains uncertain, popular belief holds that he was born Courtly Love in southern France in the late 11th century, the son of troubadours (known today as "dirty hippies"). Partnered with Chretien de Troyes, he scored an early hit with the late 12th century poem "Lancelot: Knight of the Cart." \nTroyes, a clergyman, used his extensive knowledge of human sexuality to give the poem its stark realism; while Love, always the idea-person, brought the radical notion that male-female relations could involve more than the transfer of property rights (an assertion still disputed today). More hits with other collaborators followed and, as feudalism declined, Love sought to broaden his appeal to commoners as well as nobles. Replacing Courtly with the more rugged "Romantic" (and dropping the stage-name "Cougar" that he'd adopted in the 13th century), Love soon embarked on his career's most productive partnership: that with playwright William Shakespeare. Having initially written only about murder, flatulence, political satire and other base subjects, Shakespeare enthusiastically embraced Love's input. And despite occasional strains (after a row over "Twelfth Night," Shakespeare once said "Sweet Love, I see, changing his property, turns to the sourest and most deadly hate"), they amassed a significant body of work -- including the successful play "Romeo and Juliet," later made into a 1996 film starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes.\nAfter their partnership concluded, Love worked with many and various artists throughout the following three centuries, including Percy Bysshe Shelley, Lord Byron, Robert Burns, Emily Dickinson, William Butler Yeats and D.H. Lawrence. After a relatively lean period in the early 20th century, Love achieved newfound popularity for his association with The Beatles, culminating in the famed 1967 "Summer of Love." This period ended, unfortunately, with Love's misguided introduction of Yoko Ono to John Lennon, and, while busy afterward, his influence never achieved the same peak.\nHe is survived by his three children: Drunken Hookup, Marry For Money and Biological Clock Ticking.
(02/08/07 5:00am)
Want the review in brief? Bloc Party's A Weekend In The City is a clear-cut example of the "ambitious second album" -- both in its failings and its successes. Access to greater studio resources has resulted in a grander, more sophisticated sound … along with some fussiness and a diluting of the raw electricity seen in the band's 2005 debut, Silent Alarm. Meanwhile, frontman Kele Okereke's painfully sincere lyrics address every concern he has ever had -- oftentimes with vibrant imagery and sharp phrasing, but occasionally dropping a groan-worthy clunker. There are moments that hew a little too close to Silent Alarm, and others that point to a blazingly bright future -- in short, it's not perfect, but promising.\nSticking around? Good, lets get into it. Since their 2004 self-titled EP, Bloc Party has been one of new-post-punk's brightest lights. By combining the jittery energy, unabashed artistic pretension and political sloganeering of post-punk legends such as Wire and Gang of Four with the romantic, sweeping, pop-friendly sound of The Cure and U2, they made Silent Alarm a "must-have" indie rock album. \nWeekend's finest moments best maintain this balance: The wonderfully orchestrated "Song For Clay (Disappear Here)" is a ripping, twisty rock opera in under five minutes; the slightly-prog-ish "Uniform" is a savvy criticism of Bloc Party's detached hipster fanbase; in "Where Is Home?" Okereke unleashes a ferocious blast against the treatment of black, second-generation Britons like himself; and "I Still Remember" is a terrific, Cure-worthy love song built around an irresistible, chiming guitar hook.\nOther songs are good but flawed. "Hunting For Witches" crackles with energy, but sounds a bit too much like Silent Alarm's "Helicopter," and its message (government and media-fed hysteria is more dangerous than terrorism) has become an indie rock cliché (regardless of its merits). "Waiting For the 7.18" is beautiful, but suffers from some of Okereke's goofiest lines (he says he wants to pick wild blackberries?) -- and evokes another cliché: the drudgery of working 9 to 5. "The Prayer," a mantra against stage fright, is novel but doesn't take off like the dancefloor-burner it seems intended to be. The rest follows this pattern: Plenty of exposition, not enough explosions.\nBut, throughout, the album is enjoyable and band's sheer talent is undeniable -- and this is just album No. 2, after all. So, here's hoping the Party continues.
(02/08/07 5:00am)
Before hitting play on Harry Connick, Jr.'s latest album, Oh, My Nola, I solemnly swore that I wouldn't go easy on him just because it was a tribute to his hometown of New Orleans. No, I don't feel pity -- I'm a critic. Fortunately for my sake -- and the sake of my editors who, I suspect, did not want to field hate-mail from Louisiana -- it's quite good.\nA collection of songs either about New Orleans or by New Orleans composers (including Connick himself), Nola is surprisingly upbeat -- rather than stew on that city's tragedies, Connick launches into a celebration of its culture and musical history. As a result, he pulls together strands from funk, big band, musical theater, zydeco -- and, of course, the unique local variant of jazz. \nThings start nicely with a wonderfully off-beat take on Lee Dorsey's "Working in the Coal Mine," where the heavy brass and percussion elements are gradually overtaken by piano, trumpets and other lighter elements. The sad toil of the mine is taken over by a party (and it doesn't take much imagination to see the metaphor here). Other excellent covers include a spirited take on "Won't You Come Home, Bill Bailey?" (the spotlight stolen shamelessly by some fine barroom piano antics); the sunny, laid-back "Something You Got"; an absolutely raucous, barn-burning version of "Jambalaya (On the Bayou)"; a terrific, shuffling cover of the gospel standard "Elijah Rock"; the New Orleans jazz-heavy "Sheik of Araby"; and a version of "Hello Dolly" that puts to use all the big band power at Connick's disposal. \nAnd Connick's originals are no slouch either. "All These People" provides a touching portrait from the midst of flooded New Orleans. Title-track "Oh, My Nola" is a stomping, unabashed anthem to … guess where, and "Do Dat Thing" is a sexy hip-shaker (with a reverent shout-out to jazz greats who've passed on).\nNola does face one basic, predictable problem: The production is too smooth. This should help keep it from disrupting business at the coffee house or dining establishment, but it does a disservice to such soulful, vigorously realized tunes. For example, on high-energy numbers, horns that should rip and tear through the air slice past smooth-as-snot; and Connick's voice is preternaturally calm, even on numbers that, you'd think, could get pretty emotional. But, hey, more reason to see Connick and company live, right?
(02/08/07 4:46am)
Before hitting play on Harry Connick, Jr.'s latest album, Oh, My Nola, I solemnly swore that I wouldn't go easy on him just because it was a tribute to his hometown of New Orleans. No, I don't feel pity -- I'm a critic. Fortunately for my sake -- and the sake of my editors who, I suspect, did not want to field hate-mail from Louisiana -- it's quite good.\nA collection of songs either about New Orleans or by New Orleans composers (including Connick himself), Nola is surprisingly upbeat -- rather than stew on that city's tragedies, Connick launches into a celebration of its culture and musical history. As a result, he pulls together strands from funk, big band, musical theater, zydeco -- and, of course, the unique local variant of jazz. \nThings start nicely with a wonderfully off-beat take on Lee Dorsey's "Working in the Coal Mine," where the heavy brass and percussion elements are gradually overtaken by piano, trumpets and other lighter elements. The sad toil of the mine is taken over by a party (and it doesn't take much imagination to see the metaphor here). Other excellent covers include a spirited take on "Won't You Come Home, Bill Bailey?" (the spotlight stolen shamelessly by some fine barroom piano antics); the sunny, laid-back "Something You Got"; an absolutely raucous, barn-burning version of "Jambalaya (On the Bayou)"; a terrific, shuffling cover of the gospel standard "Elijah Rock"; the New Orleans jazz-heavy "Sheik of Araby"; and a version of "Hello Dolly" that puts to use all the big band power at Connick's disposal. \nAnd Connick's originals are no slouch either. "All These People" provides a touching portrait from the midst of flooded New Orleans. Title-track "Oh, My Nola" is a stomping, unabashed anthem to … guess where, and "Do Dat Thing" is a sexy hip-shaker (with a reverent shout-out to jazz greats who've passed on).\nNola does face one basic, predictable problem: The production is too smooth. This should help keep it from disrupting business at the coffee house or dining establishment, but it does a disservice to such soulful, vigorously realized tunes. For example, on high-energy numbers, horns that should rip and tear through the air slice past smooth-as-snot; and Connick's voice is preternaturally calm, even on numbers that, you'd think, could get pretty emotional. But, hey, more reason to see Connick and company live, right?
(02/08/07 4:42am)
Want the review in brief? Bloc Party's A Weekend In The City is a clear-cut example of the "ambitious second album" -- both in its failings and its successes. Access to greater studio resources has resulted in a grander, more sophisticated sound … along with some fussiness and a diluting of the raw electricity seen in the band's 2005 debut, Silent Alarm. Meanwhile, frontman Kele Okereke's painfully sincere lyrics address every concern he has ever had -- oftentimes with vibrant imagery and sharp phrasing, but occasionally dropping a groan-worthy clunker. There are moments that hew a little too close to Silent Alarm, and others that point to a blazingly bright future -- in short, it's not perfect, but promising.\nSticking around? Good, lets get into it. Since their 2004 self-titled EP, Bloc Party has been one of new-post-punk's brightest lights. By combining the jittery energy, unabashed artistic pretension and political sloganeering of post-punk legends such as Wire and Gang of Four with the romantic, sweeping, pop-friendly sound of The Cure and U2, they made Silent Alarm a "must-have" indie rock album. \nWeekend's finest moments best maintain this balance: The wonderfully orchestrated "Song For Clay (Disappear Here)" is a ripping, twisty rock opera in under five minutes; the slightly-prog-ish "Uniform" is a savvy criticism of Bloc Party's detached hipster fanbase; in "Where Is Home?" Okereke unleashes a ferocious blast against the treatment of black, second-generation Britons like himself; and "I Still Remember" is a terrific, Cure-worthy love song built around an irresistible, chiming guitar hook.\nOther songs are good but flawed. "Hunting For Witches" crackles with energy, but sounds a bit too much like Silent Alarm's "Helicopter," and its message (government and media-fed hysteria is more dangerous than terrorism) has become an indie rock cliché (regardless of its merits). "Waiting For the 7.18" is beautiful, but suffers from some of Okereke's goofiest lines (he says he wants to pick wild blackberries?) -- and evokes another cliché: the drudgery of working 9 to 5. "The Prayer," a mantra against stage fright, is novel but doesn't take off like the dancefloor-burner it seems intended to be. The rest follows this pattern: Plenty of exposition, not enough explosions.\nBut, throughout, the album is enjoyable and band's sheer talent is undeniable -- and this is just album No. 2, after all. So, here's hoping the Party continues.