Lucero: 1372 Overton Park, part 2

To: Brian and Scott
From: Monty

I listened to this first in my car, thinking that perhaps that wasn’t giving it a fair shake. But then about two songs into it I realized that’s the perfect environment for this record. Back in high school, this is precisely the kind of thing my friends and I would have been blasting from our 8-tracks (yes, high school was that long ago for me) as we drove around town on the weekends and in the summer. It has everything rock and roll meant to us: women, cars, booze, late night hangouts.... What’s not to like, right?

Well.....yeah. As I was mentioning to Brian a couple weeks ago, I was fortunate enough to have arrived at that age at a time when lots of iconic artists and groups were still together, and more-or-less still at the top of their game. During my formative listening years, Bowie was recording albums like Diamond Dogs and “Heroes”; Pink Floyd was giving us Wish You Were Here and Animals; Led Zep put our Physical Graffiti; the Stones were still creating relevant music; and the Beatles, though no longer together, were still in heavy radio rotation. Hell, even Alice Cooper had some interesting records at the time. But also emanating from those 8-track decks back then was a bunch of Lynyrd Skynyrd, Bachman Turner Overdrive, R.E.O. Speedwagon, and a host of other stuff I loved then and couldn’t care less about now. I’m afraid I have to group Lucero in with the latter group rather than the former.

Notice, though, that I’m intentionally not calling this a bad record. It goes without saying that there are gobs of great bands that won’t ever get lumped in with Zeppelin and Bowie. The fact is Overton Park is a perfect example of what I was talking about in my Fiery Furnaces review: Without really liking it very much myself, I can completely understand how other people might enjoy it, as Brian clearly does. Catchy melodies, sing-alongable choruses, musical and lyrical hooks -- I’ll admit to bobbing my head and tapping a foot with it here and there on multiple listens. It just speaks a little too heavily to a place and time in life that I’ve left behind. If I liked it a little more I’d find it nostalgic. (I still have all the Eagles’ albums on my iPod, fergodsakes.) But instead, I’m just finding it kind of pleasantly innocuous.

--Monty

Lucero: 1372 Overton Park, part 1

Got Live If You Got It

To: Monty and Scott
From: Brian

Fellas, let me open the discussion of Lucero's 1372 Overton Park with a disclaimer of sorts: I was converted by this band through not one but two experiences of its live show before I heard a note of recorded music. Six guys (plus, the second time, two horn players) on a stage, putting on a show that was generous, good-natured and rocking on all cylinders. They came off like Replacements who had embraced both country leanings and moderation. The guys in the band all clearly cared about this music and their audience, and you could feel it as much as hear it.

I'll admit that there are scores of bands who can't quite convert that kind of presence to record--hell, not even the Replacements could do it half the time--and my ears are probably somewhat misled by the Live Lucero when listening to the Recorded Lucero. I mean, just check out how they deal with a little kid named Henry storming the stage in Madison Square Park:


So, in general: Damn, I still really like how 1372 Overton Park comes across. This is music that manages to sound stripped of artifice without having to resort to shoddy production or cheap sound. And while it leans a little toward country, I wouldn't lump Lucero in with Old '97s (a band whose songs I once watched Scott endure during a local record-shopping trip--Scott, you made it through like a soldier) or Uncle Tupelo, though there are stylistic similarities. In this case, I think that being from and in Memphis made certain country tropes available as the straightest line between a young white guy and what he had to say. It's more like The Hold Steady grabbing Thin Lizzy riffs and E Street piano rolls because that's the music that makes them feel the way they want the audience to feel--even if the audience would rather hear Born To Lose than Born to Run.

Without going into my thoughts on some of the individual songs, I'll get big picture: assuming that neither of you have seen Lucero's live show, how does this record work for you? Monty, I'll broadly guess that this works for you on a fundamental stylistic level, but I'm not sure what you'll think of the songs and the sound; Scott, I have a feeling that the surface of Overton Park pushed you back, but I'm wondering if you found a connection to some of the lyrics and attitude that power the sound. Do tell.

Can't feel a thing,
Brian

The Fiery Furnaces: I'm Going Away, part 3

Charting the Oceans

From: Brian
To: Scott & Monty

Oh, Scott Scott Scott...posting a chart like that is like chumming the waters for music-geek sharks. I'm trying, off the top of my head, to think of any 5 or 6 bands I really dig whose careers follow any of those arcs and I'm coming up dry once I get to Television and Liz Phair.

The real problem with applying this kind of charted thinking to bands like the Fiery Furnaces is, I think, that any artist displaying evidence of evolution will inevitably have fans who glom on and/or drop off at each major breakthrough point. Hell, I know people who insist that Dinosaur was useless once they added the "Jr." to their name (which was, what, album #2?). And while I think there's a great case to made for Archers of Loaf being the perfect Dropoff Chart Band, there are days when I'd say that All the Nation's Airports is a better record than Icky Mettle. (Oh, and you got me scouring the Web for more Music Charts, some of which are linked here; and dig this!)

But Scott, you got me riled up with the graph gambit and it's taken my focus from the matter at hand, I'm Going Away. I think I split the experiential difference between the two of you with this band: I saw them open up for Mike Watt a bunch of years back and thought they were cool (I still have the CD-R of demos they were handing out at the gig). Ever since, I've more or less (generally less) kept tabs on the band without ever really taking the plunge. Every time I'd sit myself down with samples from Widow City or Blueberry Boat, I'd never quite get past keeping them on the Maybe list.

I'm not sure that I'm Going Away is doing much to change that. My experience of this record was similar to yours, Monty, in that I kind of sat back with the music and waited for the lyrics/text to start emerging. What happened was that each of the 4 or 5 times I listened, the hook in "Drive to Dallas" and "Charmaine Champagne" jumped out at me...and that was it (maybe my alliteration affinity got the best of me?). The music, as has always happened with this band, reminded me in spots of Pere Ubu (good), Frank Zappa (very good) and Steely Dan (very bad), all with a singer who sounded a bit sweeter and a lot more bored; if Eleanor could hook up with Stephin Merritt for a project, it could be the ennui suite of all time.

All of which is to say...this is an album whose complexity and craft made it easy to pay attention to, but I never felt like I was hearing it any better from spin to spin. Scott, can you say in a little more detail what's powering this record for you? And if you could present the answer in a GraphJam, that would be ideal.

Plotting along the axis,
Brian

The Fiery Furnaces: I'm Going Away, part 2

From: Monty

To: Scott and Brian

Wow. Interesting how vastly different people’s perceptions and perspetives can be. I only wish I had heard Chrissie Hynde, or something resembling a hook.

Although I have been hearing bits and pieces of The Fiery Furnaces since (I believe) their inception, I'm pretty sure this is the first time I’ve subjected myself to a full album. And probably the last time. I was hoping to hear something that would help me understand their apparent popularity, but alas, no.

From what I’ve heard and what little I’ve read about them, it seems clear that their fans celebrate them as adventuresome, eclectic, and/or experimental. To me, it just sounds like people messing around. There were two or three places on the record where I heard an instrumental passage that sounded like it might go somewhere, maybe lead into an almost retro jazz kind of flourish, but nothing ever materialized. There are definitely some interesting sonic ideas, but for me they don’t add up to anything.

On the other hand, the music is enormously preferable to the vocals. As I’ve said to Brian before, when I’m listening to a new recording for the first time I like to try to ignore the lyrics as much as I can. I want to hear the vocals as another melodic element without letting the “text,” if you will, get in the way. I couldn’t do it here, as the vocals are so front-and-center. I could live with that if the words were interesting or if Friedberger’s voice were at all appealing. But the lyrics are, to paraphrase Capote, typing, not writing, and her voice sounds like a cross between MTV-era Michael Jackson (not good) and Antony from The Johnsons (even worse).

Though it’s not at all unusual for me to hear music that I don’t care for, it is a very rare thing for me to hear something and be unable to understand why someone else might like it. But sometimes it happens.

The Fiery Furnaces- I'm Going Away

From: Scott
To: Monty and Brian

A mid-to-late career effort by a brother/sister duo that has been around since aught two. This recording, their seventh lp dispenses with both the preciousness of their Grandma-centric Rehearsing My Choir and their frustrating, choppy art/prog rock elements and the unnecessary jarring style changes therein. Singer Eleanor Friedbergerhas developed a Chrissie Hynde-like thrust to her delivery that propels the songs through the gentler moments as well as the more energetic. The songs have quality hooks, which was always present on earlier releases, seemingly to the band's dismay, for all the work they did to bury them.
So here we are at the seventh album, and despite all prevailing wisdom, I am finally fully on board.

 As this chart demonstrates, the earlier stuff is always better, purer, closer to the source. How lame is it to hop in in the middle, after the edges have been worn away by time. I don't think the 20 year old me preferred the later work of any band. The concept of getting better with age was abhorrent and unnatural; it went against nature. I knew bands wore out their welcome by the fourth album. Some bands might have a juvenile first effort then pull it together by the for the sophomore release, but these bands flamed out after the third as reliably as the rest. A few shooting stars might light up the world with one great release and then collapse into  a black hole. Following any band's career after the roaring third was sheer indulgence.

At 40+ years I find myself more and more dismissing the early rumblings and joining in when the fruit is ripe on the musical career, wallowing in the mellow tones and sanded edges of a band polished to a deep mahogany finish.

-Scott
The Fiery Furnaces- Drive To Dallas

Lou Barlow: Goodnight Unknown, part 7

One More Thing...

To: Scott & Monty
From: Brian

Oh, look at me going all out of order/off topic here. I know we are, technically, still in the midst of the Stephane Wrembel convo, but I found myself having one more thought about the Lou Barlow debate.

Specifically, I wanted to answer Scott's post in which he said, "The era of album artwork, liner notes and production credits was merely a blip in the history of recorded music." Last week, I started reading How the Beatles Destroyed Rock n Roll: An Alternative History of American Popular Music, which starts off waaaaaaay before rock & roll (and a little before recorded music, in fact) as a way of examining the history of American popular music from an angle other than, "The Beatles are Year Zero of 20th-century pop music, and that is good."

The thing that made me think about Scott's post was that there is, arguably, not a single minute in the history of contemporary popular music (ie, anything the springs from the African and/or African-American root) that does not have a string visual component for the listener to latch onto. Sure, there may not have been enlightening liner essays from Leonard Feather accompanying early Scott Joplin sheet music, but there certainly were images on the cover, visions of what sort of dances would be done to the music, and once we get into minstrelsy...well, there sure as hell was some deeply coded visual information to go along with that.

In fact, I think one could argue that the rise of mass-produced recordings actually decreased the visual component of the listening experience. I'm specifically thinking that early music (and here we can really go back as far as we like, historically) was almost never listened to alone. It would be played live, either in a public space like a concert hall or a private living room, and there would be a good chance that there would be dancing to go along with it. The listener would always see the musician(s) (in a less-mediated way than MTV would later provide), and race, class, clothing, and so on would inform the music. (I'd also add that if you go to any older opera house or concert hall, the visual gingerbread packing every inch of available wall, ceiling and floor space makes most LP cover art look limited.)

So basically, I'm positing that we might actually be in a non-visual "blip" moment right now. Listeners have rarely listened with their eyes closed, and I bet there's another path to rejoining the eye & ear around the next bend.

See my vest,
Brian

Stephane Wrembel: Terre Des Hommes, part 4

From: Monty

To: Scott and Brian

Heh heh. Call me crazy, but I’m getting the feeling that Scott doesn’t care too much for this record. I don’t hate it as much as I hate The Mall at Short Hills, but I have not grown to like it much.

Brian, comparing Terre Des Hommes to the other CDs I mentioned (which are, namely, Introducing Stephane Wrembel and Barbes-Brooklyn) in terms of whether he has a recognizable sound is a little tough for me. I haven't had time to digest them all to a point where I can say if he does or doesn’t. Keep in mind that just a few short weeks ago I didn’t even know this guy existed. To use one of your own examples, I’m not sure I could have readily picked out Miles Davis from the rest of the pack less than a month after I first heard him. Especially if the first couple records I heard had been, for example, Miles Ahead and Tutu.

I would normally agree that there is an upside to the non-Django-ness of the recording, but what was so enjoyable about the show how much Wrembel & Co. were able to put their mark on the Hot Club-style numbers they performed, making their own statement about the music rather than just recreating it. Clearly I was taken by it enough to fork over for the disc.

Lastly, of course there is something to the recorded jazz vs. live jazz discussion, and all else being equal I generally do favor live. But my reaction to this album in relation to the show was not about that. It was more akin to the idea of, say, having discovered the Beatles at a live performance of Please Please Me, and coming home with the Sgt. Pepper’s CD. I just wasn’t prepared for the differences in style, sensibility, etc. And moreover, while I loved the material he played at the show, I don’t care much at all for the distinctly different material on the record.

So in the final analysis, my problem here is twofold: I’m disappointed that the record isn’t what I expected it to be, and I also don’t care much for what it actually is.

Stephane Wrembel: Terre Des Hommes, part 3

From: Scott

To: Monty and Brian

I don't know if this is a misstep by Mssr. Wrembel or a defining career moment, but this is one horrible recording. I am trying to imagine where this music would be appropriate. If I heard this playing in the Short Hills Mall, I would not question it. It says, "upscale shopping." It is just "ethnicky" enough to imply some level of acquired sophisticated taste. Maybe it gets a little spicy at times. Maybe that keeps the shoppers shuffling along on busy weekends. I don't know. I don't dj at the mall.

There is certainly enough good gypsy influenced music available at this time. We don't need to stoop to this.
-Scott

A Hawk and A Hacksaw-The Man Who Sold His Beard

Srephane Wrembel-Apocalypse

Stephane Wrembel: Terre Des Hommes, part 2

Cleverly Cool

From: Brian
To: Monty & Scott

Monty, I think you've run smack-dab into one of the glaring gaps that listeners of jazz (or jazz-ish music) run into all the time: because the music has its foundation in the in-the-moment of collective improvisation, there's often a serious disconnect between the live and recorded experience. Eric Dolphy once mused that maybe jazz musicians shouldn't record at all, since taking an unrepeatable moment of invention and stamping it for repetitive listening didn't make a lot of sense. Of course, Dolphy appeared on a few dozen records before dying in his 30s, so maybe his advice isn't the sagest.

I managed to come to this record with no experience of hearing Wrembel live (which is a bit of an accomplishment, since for several years I frequented Barbes, where he played once or twice a week). My first reaction to Terre Des Hommes was also a little cool...I had it on headphones while I was reading during my commute, and the thing never leaped out at me as more than background music. But then I listened again, giving it my full attention...and this time I thought, "Hey, this is actually pretty cool." (See how I used "cool" twice there, to mean different things in a single continuum? Damn, I'm clever!)

And Monty, one of the things I found liking about this record was that it didn't remind me of Django...or much else, really. The odd swing of the rhythm section bumped up against Wrembel's ability to layer both an organic and inorganic sound into one voice, and I didn't find myself making obvious connections of old or contemporary guitarists. I don't know if the guy has a sound that you could pick out across a room (like Bill Frisell or Miles Davis), but do you hear a consistency of tone and style from disc to disc (even if the overall styles diverge)? Taken out of any sort of context, I think Wrembel at the very least has made some cool, clever musical moves.

One other point hit me, and I bet Scott has a thought about it: that electric bass. It bothered me at first, too. Then I didn't mind it. Then I kind of liked it. Then it sort of bothered me again in places. I'd argue that Bob Cranshaw's electric bass is 110% of the reason Sonny Rollins hasn't cranked out an essential record in a decade or two (his playing is still red-hot), but there are also plenty of jazz and instrumental contexts where the electro-bass doesn't rankle. Does it fit here? Would TDH be a better record with a "real" bass, or is this what the sui generis-ish music calls for?

Twice as cool,
Brian

Stephane Wrembel: Terre Des Hommes, part 1

Expectations Are The Root Of Disappointment

From: Monty
To: Brian & Scott

Shortly after I put this CD up for consideration I decided I had spoken too soon. In my own defense, when I bought it I was at an extraordinarily impressive performance by the artist in question, Stephane Wrembel. Going into the show, I knew nothing about Wrembel other than what was stated on the emailed advertisement: gypsy jazz in the tradition of Django Reinhardt, with Indian, African, and Middle Eastern influences. By the intermission, I was so happy with what I was hearing I couldn’t possibly resist buying his latest CD, Terre Des Hommes. Walking to back to the car when the show was over, everyone in our party --veteran concert-goers all-- agreed that this guy was among the best players any of us had ever seen.

The next day, I sent emails to various friends, yourselves included, pretty well raving about the show. As you guys know, that was what prompted this disc to be our second discussion topic.

Later that evening I finally popped the CD into the player and...wasn’t so impressed.

I really hate it when people review anything in terms of what that thing is not. Nevertheless, all I could think about on first hearing Terre Des Hommes were all the ways that it wasn’t what I had heard at the show the afternoon before. First, it (mostly) doesn’t sound very Django-esque. There’s an element of that style throughout, but it’s more like a hint of spice than a main flavor. Second, a good portion of the recording uses electric bass and (mildly annoying) electronic guitar effects, whereas the concert had been purely acoustic. I don’t have any particular aversion to electronics, but this was not a part of the music I had heard that enticed me into the CD in the first place. But most of all I didn’t hear the drive, the spontenaety, the freshness, the attitude, of the music that was evident in the show.

It will be interesting to learn your thoughts on the record. Kind of in reverse of our Lou Barlow discussion, this time around I have (I think) more background information than you guys do. Or, perhaps better phrased, a different reference point.

And on the topic of reference points, the vast differences between Wrembel’s performance and the CD itself led me to do some further investigation. I discovered three earlier recordings of Wrembel, two of which I bought and both of which are MUCH more in line with what I had expected from Terre Des Hommes. I don’t want to stray too far away from the topic at hand, so I won’t get any more specific about these other two recordings (unless you want me to), except to say that listening to them has colored my opinion about Terre Des Hommes to a sufficient degree that now I can say a few things about what it is, rather than what it isn’t.

Terre Des Hommes is a pleasant, often pretty, highly accessible guitar record made by an artist with a whole lot more to offer. Competent and confident without being especially challenging, it’s the kind of recording that might draw in listeners unfamiliar with swing in general or gypsy jazz in particular. It’s not at all what I was looking for, but it might be just the gateway drug somebody else needs.

Lou Barlow: Goodnight Unknown, part 6

Listening Envy, Part 3
From: Scott

To: Monty and Brian

The era of album artwork, liner notes and production credits was merely a blip in the history of recorded music. Your Grandpap wasn't staring down a picture of Bix Beiderbecke when he threw a 78 on the gramophone. Nor was Grandma idly studying up on the third chair oboist in Glenn Miller's band while the needle spun through the grooves. Their vinyl came in a plain brown sleeve, like a dirty magazine or a wino's bottle, as it should. This mania of information came down through the jazzbos who needed to intellectual and visually justify the racket they were making. A few well chosen words from Leonard Feathers and a drip painting on the cover could effectively foist the latest series of unrelated scales from Freddie Hubbard onto the backs of college boys. This mania for non-musical content was adopted whole heartedly by the newly self important rock world of the 1960's, who added gatefold covers, die cuts, lyric sheets, posters, glossy pictures and obsessive production details to the barrage.  

But now, thanks to advances in technology, we never need indulge in the trainspotting the details of music. I never again need to see what a band looks like, leading to some interesting surprises attending live concerts (let's just say that MTV never lived up to its promise to weed the weedy out of rock and roll, and yes, I'm speaking of you, The Hold Steady). I don't need to know what cool producer they have hired, whether they use Gibson guitar picks because they want the best, whether they spent a month in Jamaica or a long weekend in Queens recording. I don't have to puzzle over 5pt type lyric sheets. I have a larger and more varied collection of music than I ever have, I don't ever have to set foot in a armpit stinky record store, I never have to convince myself I like some crappy record I bought based on some mistaken assumption of quality, and I don't care anymore!

-Scott

Lou Barlow: Goodnight Unknown, part 5

Listening Envy, part 2

From: Monty
To: Brian & Scott

Brian, I’m a grumpier, older man than you are...nyah.

There was a time in my life when I poured over the liner notes of every (vinyl) album I owned, knew every song title and its track position on the album, who played which instruments on which tracks, etc., etc. To a degree this naturally led to some knowledge of relationships between the personnel of one band and another, crossover between producers, and that sort of thing. I’m pretty sure I was never as interested in all that info as you guys are, but I was exposed to it. Then CDs came along, and soon I let go of even that modicum scrutiny.

It wasn’t just that the CD artwork is so much smaller (although that is certainly part of it), but also that the advent of the CD came about at a time when things my life were getting more complicated. I was just out of school, planning my wedding & getting married, finding a real job, buying our first house, blah, blah. I simply couldn’t find enough hours in the day to mull the musical landscape like I had done when I was essentially living on my Dad’s dime. And slowly the realization crept into my consciousness that I didn’t miss it very much. All I really cared about, ultimately, were the sounds coming out of the speakers. The rest of the information became increasingly less important, and has continued to follow that trajectory for me even as technology has moved further and further toward making that information (and much more) increasingly accessible. Maybe not the best thing for someone to say as they embark on a new record-reviewing venture, but give me credit for honesty.

I’ve always been fortunate to have a handful of friends, like yourselves, who have opinions I trust and through whom I find new music. When someone recommends something to me, or when I read about a new artist that might interest me, I do make some effort to investigate before buying a CD. I’ll Google the artist and/or check out their web site. And I virtually always listen to the little sample files on Amazon or eMusic or wherever before I order or download something new. So it’s pretty unusual for me to pop on a CD or dial up an mp3 without any idea at all of what I’m about to hear.

On the flip side of that same coin, though, it was never particularly common for me to buy an album completely cold, even before the internet came along. Generally I always bought things I knew something about, even if it was purely by word-of-mouth. And when I was curious about new record, most record store clerks were always more than happy to play it for me in the store.

So in answer to Brian’s question, today’s technology makes my “pre-purchase research” easier and faster, but I don’t really do more of it than I ever did. I know there’s a lot more information out there than ever before, and that it’s only a keystroke away. I just don’t really need it.

Lou Barlow: Goodnight Unknown, part 4

Listening Envy

From: Brian
To: Monty & Scott

Monty, I felt a serious case of envy that you were able to go into this not having even heard Barlow's name before...but I was also kind of amazed at the idea of "listening blind" in this day & age. Aside from the incredible abundance of info on any given musical act (and the effortless ease of getting that info), there's also: between free tracks from an artist/label, the 30-second samples on most download sites, the full-album streaming provided by everyone from NPR to The Colbert Report, and all of the other digitally driven ways of hearing new music...well, it's been a long, long time since I've pressed "Play" and heard something for which I had little to no prep.

At the risk of sounding like a grumpy old man...I'm not sure all of this music previewing is entirely a good thing. Sure, it's saved me a bunch of money, in that I rarely will buy something based solely on the cover art or album title; but I also can't remember the last time that an album I came to love made its way to me accidentally. Do you guys find that you do more pre-purchase research now that you once did? Or maybe not more research, but more direct pre-purchase access before you're willing to invest 45 minutes in something unknown?

That's actually one of the things I'm really looking forward to with this MARClub concept: listening to things that you guys suggest, and having that be the only run-up to the album.

One other thing: after reading Monty's list of "sounds like" artists for Barlow, I was trying to think of how often I have the pleasure of listening to something new and feeling like it's really new. I think my 1st spin through Grizzly Bear's Veckatimest a few months back and maybe parts of Darcy James Argue's Secret Society recent debut both sounded unlike things and just like themselves. Can you think of any? Those moments are pretty thrilling, and pretty hard to come by.

Lou Barlow: Goodnight Unknown, part 3

From: Scott 

To: Monty & Brian

Well, I don't know what the hell record you guys were listening to! My highly original and unique opinion arrived at only after 40 years of pure individualistic auto-didactic living is startlingly and distressingly similar to both of yours.

I was an early Barlow adoptee, having loved his Dinosaur Jr. "Bug" tracks to speak to the man himself after a gig and he obliged me with a cassette that later became the first Sebadoh lp. I loved it. It was sweet, crazy, filled with that weird upstroke acoustic guitar style and totally demented screaming tape loops, song fragments and some great songs. It was claustrophobic, locked in your bedroom music. I suppose it helped to be in the same specific head space as the creator.

I think that phase of my life ended when I stopped trying to drive myself insane toward the end of my early 20's. I jumped off board of the Sebadoh when it became that mediocre three piece band. I didn't understand why suddenly democratic Lou would split the songwriting with those other two guys. Their live show was a mess of pointless instrument switching and songs the drummer wrote. I remember liking the sentiment of the "Gimme Indie Rock" if not so much the song. I haven't voluntarily listened to Sebadoh in at least ten to fifteen years, but I haven't tossed the cds.

So it is a little startling to hear Barlow's specific guitar upstrokes on "Gravitate" and "One Machine, One Long Fight". It's like opening a little fissure have opened from my head into my chest where all those awful feelings are buried. I am glad I don't like them more than I do. I don't want to go back there where I was. It doesn't sound like Barlow is truly where he was either but is still able to tap into some echo of it.

The songs "Praise" and "Don't Apologize"  use some of the early Sebadoh magic (interesting acoustic rhythms, slightly distorted multitracked vocals, strong melodies)  for good. I would like to hear some more like this. It is distinctly his sound at its best. The CD ends nicely on a distinctly Donovan note with "One Note Tone" where I swear I can hear a bit of a Scottish accent.

That being said, I agree with you boys that this is a competent, pleasant record I will never, ever listen to again.
-Scott

Lou Barlow - Gravitate 

Lou Barlow - Praise 

Lou Barlow: Goodnight Unknown, part 2

Not Known, Yet Familiar
From: Monty
To: Brian & Scott

Brian is correct; I don’t have a historical reference with Barlow. I have had the auditory equivalent of a passing glance at Dinosaur Jr. a few times over the years, but not enough to even name a song. And before this album pick, I’ve never even heard of Lou Barlow at all. So yeah, by any relevant measure I’m coming at this cold.

The first track, “Sharing,” made me think I was in for a tough ride. I know it’s a common, even beloved, staple of all sorts of pop genres, but there’s something about the straight-ahead, pure emphasis of beats 1& 3 that really puts me off as a listener (although I often kind of enjoy it as a player). It is the rare song, indeed, that is good enough to overcome that bias, and this is not one of those songs.

But then I was drawn in a bit by the title track, and by track three I found myself being pleasantly entertained. I realize that isn’t the highest possible praise, but it’s not bad. And it’s more than I can say about an awful lot of music I hear.

In contrast --or perhaps in parallel-- to Brian’s inability to separate this record from Barlows previous work, I heard constant similarities to other artists that I enjoy. Clearly I’m not familiar enough with Barlow to know his influences, and I don’t know (or particularly care) if the references I hear are by intention or by chance, but a few of them were: Joseph Arthur, Badly Drawn Boy, Alexi Murdoch, early 80’s era Peter Gabriel, Eels, and Iron & Wine. Not a bad lot, to my mind.

Now, I must say that in every one of these instances I find Barlow lacking in comparison to the artists he conjured in my head. And I agree with Brian that after a handful of listens I can’t really recall a lyric or a melody that stands out. But at the same time I can’t deny that while I’m listening, I like what I’m hearing.

I don’t imagine I’ll be saying to anoyone, “Hey, you should check out the new Lou Barlow record!” On the other hand, it’s on my iPod and I’m not feeling the need to remove it. I guess I’m saying to Brian not that he should enjoy the earworms, but that you can enjoy the earworms and just leave it at that.

Listen up,
--Monty

Lou Barlow: Goodnight Unknown, part 1

Too Known?

From: Brian
To: Monty & Scott

Here we go...the inaugural run through our attempt to ring-around a single record. I hope it proves interesting (or is at least some sort of fun).

Anyway, the record at hand: Lou Barlow's Goodnight Unknown. To tell the truth, I was sure I would never want/need another Lou Barlow record in my life. Not because I don't dig his stuff; on the contrary, my collection is stuffed with Dinosaur, Sebadoh and Sentridoh recordings that he's made over the course of a now-longish career. It's just...well, Barlow was a bard of my early- and mid-20s, echoing the confusion of that phase and guiding my attempts at (very) rough home recording.

But you know those bands that you really, really like and also don't really feel like listening to too much anymore? That's Barlow for me (at least in his Sebadoh/Sentridoh identity; I still go in for Dinosaur). I'm just not the guy I was when I heard myself in those records, and I'd guess he's not either.

So anyway, why did I pick this one for our maiden voyage? Well, I heard some stray tracks from Barlow's present Merge Records projects...and I kind of dug them. I didn't pay close enough attention to know what was in "Gravitate," the free pre-release tune, but it pushed the Sebadoh Button easily enough that I became interested to check back in with Barlow.

Now, I'm pretty sure that Scott has a background in Barlow roughly equivalent to mine...but Monty, would I be right in guessing that this is the 1st time you're hearing him? I'm interested to know what kind of listening experience that is--I can't help but compare the sounds, style and lyrics of this new stuff to the Barlow back-catalog. Does he sound like something more than an amateurish song-smith? I know he's not the king of complexity--which was always part of Barlow's charm--but I wonder how it serves him for someone not drawn in by his context.

I might be too drawn in by the context; when that little xylophone hit shows up in "Faith in Your Heartbeat," I found myself assuming he'd borrowed a toy instrument from his young daughter, whereas a decade ago I would have assumed the toy instrument had been a stoned impulse buy he'd made at a flea market. And instead of just finding the lame lyrics of "Take Advantage" disappointing, I'm taking this turn from the self-lacerating a little personally.

Please tell me I should just be enjoying the earworms and not reading so much into the guy behind the guy. But on the other hand, I've spun this thing half a dozen times and I don't think there's a single song I can hum on my own. I can hear that there are melodies, some nice arrangements, even a couple of decent lyrical turns, but I already find myself wanting to listen to the new Mountain Goats record instead.

Every start could be the beginning,
Brian