It's time for fun! Stephen Thomas Erlewine has a vendetta against Midnite Vultures. Why? I'm sure that there must be something lacking in the music, something specific. Surely he won't find a tiny element of the record annoying and then hate the whole durn thing as a result. Let's find out!
By calling the muted psychedelic folk-rock, blues, and Tropicalia of Mutations a stopgap, Beck set expectations for Midnight Vultures unreasonably high.
EXPECTATIONS. There it is, the ultimate red flag in a review, and S.T. Erlewine shies not away from this beast, but beckons it forth. Let it be known that Mutations was NEVER called a stopgap record. He wanted to record another album for his old label, Bong Load, and did so, cutting the whole thing in two weeks with Nigel Godrich. The album sounded so good that DGC, his current label demanded that they be able to release under their name as well. And then the critics invented this idea that Mutations was not the true sequel to Odelay because it wasn't a patchwork collection of sample-heavy tunes. This is wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.
Ironically, Midnite Vultures doesn't feel like a sequel to Odelay -- it's a genre exercise, like Mutations.
God damn it, this isn't ironic, it's true! The reason it doesn't FEEL like the sequel is because it IS NOT the sequel! The sequel to Odelay is Mutations you hack! Also, the reason we all love Beck is that he hops from sound to sound, never satisfied with comfort (although recently, he's toeing the sound-alike line). Last time I checked, Mutations was a folk record. Erlewine calls it a genre exercise. So, when Led Zeppelin made III, that was just a genre exercise, not a folk album. And when Captain Beefheart recorded Trout Mask Replica, that was just a dalliance with musical extremism, not an avant-garde rock album. God, I hate this review soooooooooooooooooo much!
This time, Beck delves into soul, funk, and hip-hop, touching on everything from Stax/Volt to No Limit but using Prince as his home base. He's eschewed samples, more or less, but not the aesthetic.
Pretty spot on with the sound, except Beck's fascination with electronic music, which is heavily favored on this album. Also, you're wrong about the samples. On Midnite Vultures Beck sampled his own band and sketches and then incorporated the samples into the songs. So, yeah, you're pretty wrong, which is why the sampling aesthetic remains.
Even when a song is reminiscent of a particular style, it's assembled in strange, exciting ways. As it kicks off with "Sexx Laws," it's hard not to get caught up in the rush, and "Nicotine & Gravy" carries on the vibe expertly, as does the party jam "Mixed Bizness" and the full-on electro workout "Get Real Paid," an intoxicating number that sounds like a Black Album reject. So far, so good -- the songs are tight, catchy, and memorable, the production dense.
Pretty good, only I feel like there's something wrong here. Something really pissed off S.T Erlewine before he even started this review...
Then comes "Hollywood Freaks."
There it is. Let's see what he hates about this one song on the album.
The self-conscious gangsta goof is singularly irritating, not least because of Beck's affected voice. It's the first on Midnite Vultures to feel like a parody, and it's such an awkward, misguided shift in tone that it colors the rest of the album.
OK, there is a lot of things that offend me in these two sentences. Where to begin?
First off, Beck's music is the opposite of self-conscious. Especially this song, which is a really funny track anyways. It's a joke, what's wrong with that. I have fond memories of yelling lyrics of this song in my high school hallway, and getting shouts back. A slice of the lyrics:
"Norman Schwartzkopf, something tells me you want to go home"
"Automatic bzooty, zero to tutti fruitti
Sex in the halls, Niagara Falls
Local shopping malls receive
Anonymous calls"
How are you not supposed to laugh at that? I guess when you're S.T. Erlewine, and you don't want Beck to have fun or make fun of himself. Zero to tutti fruitti? That's gold right there, gold. Not to mention the beat underneath, which is a slammin' Dust Bros. track. Remember them Erlewine, the guys who helped produce your favorite Beck album, Odelay? Well, you're criticizing the one track that they worked on. Why are you so fucking confusing?
Tributes now sound like send-ups, allusions that once seemed affectionate feel snide, and the whole thing comes off as a little jive.
Holy shit, one single track on this album ruined it for Erlewine. Now he wants to ruin the whole record for you. Isn't that nice? He's making Beck out to be a some kind of high-and-mighty diva who hates his fans. Awful awful awful. Can't a guy record some music that's in his head? Isn't it possible that Beck wanted us to have fun after the somber grandeur of Mutations? I'll put my money on the fun, Erlewine.
Musically, Midnite Vultures is filled with wonderful little quirks, but these are undercut by the sneaking suspicion that for all the ingenuity, it's just a hipster joke.
I know I've already said it, but, this is awful. People who are getting into Beck are going to be turned the fuck off of this record because of a "sneaking suspicion." Also, hipster joke? This review is a fucking hipster joke.
Humor has always been a big part of Beck's music, but it was gloriously absurd, never elitist. Here, it's delivered with a smug smirk, undercutting whatever joy the music generates.
Alright, quit it already Erlewine, now you're just lashing out for no reason. Beck made the record he wanted to make. You didn't like it, and instead of figuring out why, you just lashed out using false truths and slander.
Please listen to Midnite Vultures. The first side is hilarious and fun, while the second half lags a little bit. Still, given Beck's refusal to be boring, the sonics alone are worth it, as well as Jonny Marrs' mystery appearance. I'd give it 4 stars out of 5, instead of Erlewine's baffling 3 out of 5.
Showing posts with label Stephen T. Erlewine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stephen T. Erlewine. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
The Curse of the Fourth Album Pt. 1
I'll admit to focusing my bile on some easy targets, but I did not expect this kind of behavior from Steven Thomas Erlewine. I'm not looking to chom this guy on a regular basis, but when he does a horrible job reviewing the album I'm writing a piece on, well, them's the ropes as they say.
For the first installment of this series, we'll focus on a post-punk underdog called Magazine and their fourth doomed album Magic, Murder and the Weather. Formed when founder Howard Devoto split from the Buzzcocks, the band laid low for most of 1977 before they debuted their brand of arty post-punk. After the relative success of Real Life, the band released a murky, keyboard heavy sophomore question mark named Secondhand Daylight. While not terrible, it left many wondering if the band had any magic left.
Enter Martin Hannett, everyone's favorite Joy Division producing junkie maniac who helped create their third record, the wonderfully titled The Correct Use of Soap. Such a collaboration makes pale, skinny, averted to cool people like me boil over with nerdiness. And for good reason, as the record delivers on its promise of strange sounds and icy precision. In fact, the man responsible for both of Joy Division's LP's, the original Spiral Scratch EP that jump-started the British punk explosion, an EP by ESG that spawned the most sampled piece of music in history (UFO), claimed that The Correct Use of Soap was the greatest album he had worked on in his career.
One can then expect a downturn, and indeed this is the big one. The band followed up with Magic, Murder and the Weather which was indeed the band's final record. The curse strikes again!! However, the record wasn't as bad as the critic's words read. There's nothing like the critic's 300 pound gorilla, otherwise known as expectations. You hear a band's album and are blown away. You begin to wonder what their next release may sound like, and...Boom!
Imagine that this building embodies your expectations. They're toast, son.
You are setting yourself up for disappointment. Critics especially seem to believe they know how good a band COULD be. They cook up a vision in their criticBrains with the loftiest of expectations. Meanwhile, the unassuming band doesn't give a shit about the critic. They are going to make the kind of music they want to make. Critics get it wrong because they believe that they know MORE about the direction the band should be going than the band themselves!
!!GGGGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!
Magazine's final studio album, Magic, Murder and the Weather, finds Dave Formula's washes of cold, brittle keyboards dominating the bitter and cynical music.
Alright, we already find the reviewer has an issue with the keyboards. He doesn't want those keyboards, not one bit. Maybe I'm putting words into his mouth...
Occasionally, Howard Devoto's weary lyrics surface through the icy mix, but it's clear that Devoto and Magazine have both had better days.
Maybe I'm confused, but I'm pretty sure Devoto's lyrics have always been weary. A sample of Devoto's lyrics from the 3 previous albums:
"A frightening world is an interesting world to be in."
"You think I'm a lame duck, I don't give a blue luck, I don't give two hoots..."
"Clarity has reared, its ugly head again, so this is real life"
"Then I got tired of counting all of these blessings, and then I just got tired"
If these lyrics aren't weary or bleak, I will hit myself in the face with a baseball bat.
It's not a graceful way to bow out, but the album has enough strong moments to prevent it from being an embarrassment as well.
What!?! That's it? As far as I can discern, the album contains icy keyboards and weary lyrics. Give me a break. This is a terrible review. He cites the band's signature sounds and lyrics as weird stylistic choices specific to this album. Even stranger is the complete lack of musical criticism. Completely brutalizing. Also, notice the critical about-face at the end of the review. Let's enter Steven Thomas Erlewine's criticBrain:
"Hmm...I only wrote two sentences in this review. Maybe I should listen to the album so I can be a responsible critic and inform the public about the content of the record. Or, I could just cop out with a final sentence that will leave everyone confused and turned off."
Thanks for nothing, S.T. Erlewine.
For the first installment of this series, we'll focus on a post-punk underdog called Magazine and their fourth doomed album Magic, Murder and the Weather. Formed when founder Howard Devoto split from the Buzzcocks, the band laid low for most of 1977 before they debuted their brand of arty post-punk. After the relative success of Real Life, the band released a murky, keyboard heavy sophomore question mark named Secondhand Daylight. While not terrible, it left many wondering if the band had any magic left.
Enter Martin Hannett, everyone's favorite Joy Division producing junkie maniac who helped create their third record, the wonderfully titled The Correct Use of Soap. Such a collaboration makes pale, skinny, averted to cool people like me boil over with nerdiness. And for good reason, as the record delivers on its promise of strange sounds and icy precision. In fact, the man responsible for both of Joy Division's LP's, the original Spiral Scratch EP that jump-started the British punk explosion, an EP by ESG that spawned the most sampled piece of music in history (UFO), claimed that The Correct Use of Soap was the greatest album he had worked on in his career.
One can then expect a downturn, and indeed this is the big one. The band followed up with Magic, Murder and the Weather which was indeed the band's final record. The curse strikes again!! However, the record wasn't as bad as the critic's words read. There's nothing like the critic's 300 pound gorilla, otherwise known as expectations. You hear a band's album and are blown away. You begin to wonder what their next release may sound like, and...Boom!
Imagine that this building embodies your expectations. They're toast, son.
You are setting yourself up for disappointment. Critics especially seem to believe they know how good a band COULD be. They cook up a vision in their criticBrains with the loftiest of expectations. Meanwhile, the unassuming band doesn't give a shit about the critic. They are going to make the kind of music they want to make. Critics get it wrong because they believe that they know MORE about the direction the band should be going than the band themselves!
!!GGGGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!Alright already, I'm making myself crazy here. Let's read this wonderful review of the album from Allmusicguide.com.
Magazine's final studio album, Magic, Murder and the Weather, finds Dave Formula's washes of cold, brittle keyboards dominating the bitter and cynical music.
Alright, we already find the reviewer has an issue with the keyboards. He doesn't want those keyboards, not one bit. Maybe I'm putting words into his mouth...
Occasionally, Howard Devoto's weary lyrics surface through the icy mix, but it's clear that Devoto and Magazine have both had better days.
Maybe I'm confused, but I'm pretty sure Devoto's lyrics have always been weary. A sample of Devoto's lyrics from the 3 previous albums:
"A frightening world is an interesting world to be in."
"You think I'm a lame duck, I don't give a blue luck, I don't give two hoots..."
"Clarity has reared, its ugly head again, so this is real life"
"Then I got tired of counting all of these blessings, and then I just got tired"
If these lyrics aren't weary or bleak, I will hit myself in the face with a baseball bat.
It's not a graceful way to bow out, but the album has enough strong moments to prevent it from being an embarrassment as well.
What!?! That's it? As far as I can discern, the album contains icy keyboards and weary lyrics. Give me a break. This is a terrible review. He cites the band's signature sounds and lyrics as weird stylistic choices specific to this album. Even stranger is the complete lack of musical criticism. Completely brutalizing. Also, notice the critical about-face at the end of the review. Let's enter Steven Thomas Erlewine's criticBrain:
"Hmm...I only wrote two sentences in this review. Maybe I should listen to the album so I can be a responsible critic and inform the public about the content of the record. Or, I could just cop out with a final sentence that will leave everyone confused and turned off."
Thanks for nothing, S.T. Erlewine.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Diamond DogFood
Props go to Mattie-O from Trawtopia.com for cluing me in on this slice of terrible pie.
Few artists in the history of recorded music are able to survive the curse of the fourth album. After recording three albums of material that both the critics and masses enjoy, an ensuing dud kills the untouchable mystique of the band. The band/artist are forced to quickly patch together a placating collection of tunes to satisfy the critiques (Dylan, New Morning), or they fade away and have a comeback record 3 years later.
And then there is David Bowie. It can be argued that there will never be another artist quite like him. From The Man Who Sold the World (1970) to Scary Monsters(1980) Davey recorded 13 albums. Read that again. In a decade, he simply crushed shit like it was his job, not even counting live records or that Peter and Wolf thing. Also, his production and arranging work for Lou Reed, Iggy Pop and Mott the Hoople speak volumes of his work ethic. Outside of Neil Young's output, no one even came even close in the 1970's.
Now, by the time Diamond Dogs came around, he was 6 albums deep into this run. Six albums of brilliance, from the singer-songwriter gem Hunky Dory to the glam-opera magnificence of Ziggy Stardust. I guess Stephen Thomas Erlewine decided Davey had it too easy, deciding to shit on Diamond Dogs for no apparent reason. His rating of 2 1/2 stars out of 5 is absolutely baffling. Erlewine is usually above this tripe, so let's see where he went wrong.
David Bowie fired the Spiders From Mars shortly after the release of Pin Ups, but he didn't completely leave the Ziggy Stardust persona behind.
A little historical backdrop, and for Erlewine the problem starts here. Bowie is confused and doesn't know who he is as an artist. I think this is interesting plot line for an album, and would initially view this record as a cool document of the struggle. Just based on that, this album already has a 3 star rating.
Diamond Dogs suffers precisely because of this -- he doesn't know how to move forward. Originally conceived as a concept album based on George Orwell's 1984, Diamond Dogs evolved into another one of Bowie's paranoid future nightmares.
Alright, so the album suffers because he doesn't know how to move forward? This is starting to smack of an opinion piece. Erlewine wants this to be a cohesive piece of music, but it isn't. Just because Bowie at first thought it would be a concept record doesn't mean it's a failure. Remember Low? It was a failed movie soundtrack. It also turned out to be a masterpiece.
Throughout the album, there are hints that he's tired with the Ziggy formula, particularly in the disco underpinning of "Candidate" and his cut-and-paste lyrics. However, it's not enough to make Diamond Dogs a step forward, and without Mick Ronson to lead the band, the rockers are too stiff to make an impact.
Wouldn't you be tired of the Ziggy formula, considering that he was 3 albums and 2 years removed from that album? Hmm...wasn't it the music critics who desperately clung to his Ziggy image? And wait, "cut and paste" lyrics are a negative? I hate this: an artist goes in a specific direction with their lyrics, and because they don't follow the specific rules they themselves have laid down, they are slammed. I like to call this artistic growth, or experimentation. You can't possibly know that these are throw-away lyrics unless you were David Bowie. And you're not, Stephen.
Also, the band is too stiff to make an impact? What impact were you looking for? Did you need every single song to chart? You can't throw around language like that.
Ironically, the one exception is one of Bowie's very best songs -- the tight, sexy "Rebel Rebel."
Is it really that ironic, Stephen? Couldn't you have realized that most of this review is flawed by your bias? How could a stiff band of rockers produce one of Bowie's best? Also, in this sentence you've claimed that this song is the one good song on the record. We'll revisit this thought soon.
The song doesn't have much to do with the theme, and the ones he does throw in to further the story usually fall flat.
What?! What theme? I thought you said this album was based on a failed 1984-based concept? If it has failed, why are you still holding Bowie's music up to that theme/story? This is really confusing the hell out of me.
Diamond Dogs isn't a total waste, with "1984," "Candidate," and "Diamond Dogs" all offering some sort of pleasure, but it is the first record since Space Oddity where Bowie's reach exceeds his grasp.
Remember when Erlewine said that this record only had one good song? Oh, well, three other songs have joined it. Great. Also, what the hell? You don't know what kind of pleasure good music brings people? How about "aural pleasure"? Or just ear pleasure. Jesus Christ.
Also, let it be known that Erlewine cites Space Oddity as a failure. Guess who wrote that review? Steve Thomas Erlewine. Cool, so I guess he knows Bowie better than anyone. Yuck. Diamond Dogs, based on this review, should have at least received 3 stars. This is just another case of ONE guy reviewing an ENTIRE discography of an artist. To make it seem like he doesn't have ulterior motives(like, creating the definition of a brilliant Bowie release), he unnecessarily rips this album a new anus.
Bad form, bad form.
Few artists in the history of recorded music are able to survive the curse of the fourth album. After recording three albums of material that both the critics and masses enjoy, an ensuing dud kills the untouchable mystique of the band. The band/artist are forced to quickly patch together a placating collection of tunes to satisfy the critiques (Dylan, New Morning), or they fade away and have a comeback record 3 years later.
And then there is David Bowie. It can be argued that there will never be another artist quite like him. From The Man Who Sold the World (1970) to Scary Monsters(1980) Davey recorded 13 albums. Read that again. In a decade, he simply crushed shit like it was his job, not even counting live records or that Peter and Wolf thing. Also, his production and arranging work for Lou Reed, Iggy Pop and Mott the Hoople speak volumes of his work ethic. Outside of Neil Young's output, no one even came even close in the 1970's.
Now, by the time Diamond Dogs came around, he was 6 albums deep into this run. Six albums of brilliance, from the singer-songwriter gem Hunky Dory to the glam-opera magnificence of Ziggy Stardust. I guess Stephen Thomas Erlewine decided Davey had it too easy, deciding to shit on Diamond Dogs for no apparent reason. His rating of 2 1/2 stars out of 5 is absolutely baffling. Erlewine is usually above this tripe, so let's see where he went wrong.
David Bowie fired the Spiders From Mars shortly after the release of Pin Ups, but he didn't completely leave the Ziggy Stardust persona behind.
A little historical backdrop, and for Erlewine the problem starts here. Bowie is confused and doesn't know who he is as an artist. I think this is interesting plot line for an album, and would initially view this record as a cool document of the struggle. Just based on that, this album already has a 3 star rating.
Diamond Dogs suffers precisely because of this -- he doesn't know how to move forward. Originally conceived as a concept album based on George Orwell's 1984, Diamond Dogs evolved into another one of Bowie's paranoid future nightmares.
Alright, so the album suffers because he doesn't know how to move forward? This is starting to smack of an opinion piece. Erlewine wants this to be a cohesive piece of music, but it isn't. Just because Bowie at first thought it would be a concept record doesn't mean it's a failure. Remember Low? It was a failed movie soundtrack. It also turned out to be a masterpiece.
Throughout the album, there are hints that he's tired with the Ziggy formula, particularly in the disco underpinning of "Candidate" and his cut-and-paste lyrics. However, it's not enough to make Diamond Dogs a step forward, and without Mick Ronson to lead the band, the rockers are too stiff to make an impact.
Wouldn't you be tired of the Ziggy formula, considering that he was 3 albums and 2 years removed from that album? Hmm...wasn't it the music critics who desperately clung to his Ziggy image? And wait, "cut and paste" lyrics are a negative? I hate this: an artist goes in a specific direction with their lyrics, and because they don't follow the specific rules they themselves have laid down, they are slammed. I like to call this artistic growth, or experimentation. You can't possibly know that these are throw-away lyrics unless you were David Bowie. And you're not, Stephen.
Also, the band is too stiff to make an impact? What impact were you looking for? Did you need every single song to chart? You can't throw around language like that.
Ironically, the one exception is one of Bowie's very best songs -- the tight, sexy "Rebel Rebel."
Is it really that ironic, Stephen? Couldn't you have realized that most of this review is flawed by your bias? How could a stiff band of rockers produce one of Bowie's best? Also, in this sentence you've claimed that this song is the one good song on the record. We'll revisit this thought soon.
The song doesn't have much to do with the theme, and the ones he does throw in to further the story usually fall flat.
What?! What theme? I thought you said this album was based on a failed 1984-based concept? If it has failed, why are you still holding Bowie's music up to that theme/story? This is really confusing the hell out of me.
Diamond Dogs isn't a total waste, with "1984," "Candidate," and "Diamond Dogs" all offering some sort of pleasure, but it is the first record since Space Oddity where Bowie's reach exceeds his grasp.
Remember when Erlewine said that this record only had one good song? Oh, well, three other songs have joined it. Great. Also, what the hell? You don't know what kind of pleasure good music brings people? How about "aural pleasure"? Or just ear pleasure. Jesus Christ.
Also, let it be known that Erlewine cites Space Oddity as a failure. Guess who wrote that review? Steve Thomas Erlewine. Cool, so I guess he knows Bowie better than anyone. Yuck. Diamond Dogs, based on this review, should have at least received 3 stars. This is just another case of ONE guy reviewing an ENTIRE discography of an artist. To make it seem like he doesn't have ulterior motives(like, creating the definition of a brilliant Bowie release), he unnecessarily rips this album a new anus.
Bad form, bad form.
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