Record Reviews
originally published November 9, 2005
VARIOUS ARTISTS
Music From The O.C.: Mix 5
Warner Brothers
The latest batch of songs from teen drama "The O.C." are, thankfully, not holiday-themed, as a previous edition's were, but are also not quite at the same level as some of the other "mixes" in the series. Partially, this is due to the familiarity of some of the choices (LCD Soundsystem's "Daft Punk is Playing at My House," Stars' "Your Ex-Lover is Dead") and partially, it's due to the "new discoveries" being middling at best (The Subways' "Rock & Roll Queen"), but mainly it's due to the absence of any of the absurdly obvious choices that are "The O.C."'s trademark.
Certainly this technique can be off-putting at first; the decision to soundtrack the second season's lesbian-until-sweeps-end affair with the already-odious Louis XIV was like handing a cultural critic a cream puff filled with black pepper. But when it reaches the giddy heights of the first season's we-are-very-sad montage set to Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah," the utter sincerity of its utterly ironic gesture is like seeing a three-minute summation of the last 20 years of college freshman pop culture.
The only thing in that vein here is Youth Group's confusingly straightforward cover of "Forever Young," although the climax of Shout Out Loud's pleasingly anemic "Wish I Was Dead Pt. 2" - "I wish wish wish that I… was… dead…" - comes awfully close. But the real keeper is Imogen Heap's "Hide and Seek," a spellbinding mass of vocal harmonies, which soundtracked the fairly touching end of Season Two. Real emotion and an actually good song? Oh "The O.C.", you've grown up so fast!
Michael Barthel
BARRY SELL
Ravens in the Snow
Independent Release
Ex-Athenian Barry Sell relocated to Austin, TX, a few years back and his latest release, an EP called Ravens In the Snow, definitely has a wide-open-spaces kind of feel about it. Sell's affiliation with Athens goes way back, as the singer-songwriter played in such local bands as The Skinpops, Hot Burritos and Redneck GReece Delux, among several others while still in town. He's completely in the driver's seat for Ravens' six songs, though, singing and playing guitar, bass and mandolin with assistance from only drummer-percussionist E. McFrazier.
The songs benefit from this arrangement and Ravens is a fine reintroduction to Sell as both a songwriter and musician. "Maria" is a brisk shuffle along the lines of John Hiatt; "In Your Car" turns it up and rocks out "Radar Love"-style; "Foghorn" is an elegantly done ballad that references Marvin Gaye, while "Tight With You" is a harmonica-driven slice of soulful country.
Sell's music is nothing particularly elaborate, nor should it be. In general, it's your basic meat-and-potatoes country rock. He's a fine multi-instrumentalist and lyricist, however, and both talents protect the brief Ravens from the potential threats of over-familiarity or under-realization.
Michael Andrews
t.A.T.u
Dangerous and Moving
Interscope
I really don't have a problem with gimmicks, as long as the music's good enough without them, and when t.A.T.u. first showed up, working their "we're underage lesbians, but how dare you say we're lesbians or that we're doing it for the publicity" schtick, the teenage rebellion and energy of their songs were undeniable. You might have thought Julia Volkova and Lena Katina were cheesy, but what they basically did was take the sentiment expressed in the Smiths' "There Is a Light" (i.e., "I want to get out of the house and be with the only person who understands me!") and redo it for a new generation. Yes, it's juvenile, but hey, juvenilia is part of life.
Unfortunately, Dangerous and Moving, the Russian duo's second album, doesn't live up to its title. If you're going to adopt the stance of provocateur, you really can't dial it down a notch. Ever. The video made for "All About Us" succeeds wonderfully in the same vein of their earlier stuff, but the brains splattered on the wall mean you won't be seeing it on MTV any time soon.
Most of the albums' songs simply lack the explosiveness and occasional chaos of their previous set, though the mid-'80s production that sounds like a combination of "Tubular Bells" and Bronski Beat remains (especially on "Chaos"). Is t.A.T.u. growing up? Or did they just lose their primary songwriter? Either way, it's not a terrible listen, but it doesn't make you want to fait les quatre cents coups.
Hillary Brown
THRICE
Vheissu
Island
After rumors that Thrice's new material sounded like Radiohead and that one of the producers didn't even want his name associated with the project, expectations fluctuated. But Thrice's release of the first single from Vheissu, "Image of the Invisible," was a straight-up rock anthem in traditional Thrice style. It's the kind of song that makes the listener feel invincible. Too bad it's one of only a few tracks on Vheissu that resembles the Thrice of old - "Hold Fast Hope" being one of the others.
Conspicuously (and intentionally, according to a recent interview) missing from Vheissu is the sick guitar work and thick rock/ post-hardcore sound that permeated Thrice's three previous albums. Fortunately, the California quartet is talented enough to reinvent the wheel. This time around, keyboards and electronic bells and whistles permeate many of the songs, adding more texture to Thrice's work and providing an interesting contrast to the harder parts that the band is best known for. Standing out in particular is the slower "Atlantic," a rich track that highlights Thrice's versatility as songwriters and focuses on frontman Dustin Kensrue's vocal ability.
With Vheissu, Thrice has achieved what few bands are capable of: evolving as a band, creating a different sound and still producing a record just as amazing as its prior critically-praised albums. Vheissu is anything but a disappointment. Thrice proves that change is good.
Leah Weinberg
Thrice is playing at the Masquerade in Atlanta on Wednesday, Nov. 9 and Thursday, Nov. 10.
THE FIERY FURNACES
Rehearsing My Choir
Rough Trade
There's something uniquely thrilling about watching a great band create its own mythos. It's less the anticipation of saying you were there and more the fun of watching the story being written without knowing the ending. The Fiery Furnaces are in the middle of an incredible run of albums, and Rehearsing My Choir, their fourth in two years, drops another little breadcrumb for fans. It will confuse some and infuriate others, but be loved by the majority.
It's perhaps best understood as Matthew Friedberger producing a spoken-word oral history by his grandmother Olga Sarantos that ends up a bit like an avant-garde rock opera with the grandmother doing recitative and Eleanor Friedberger singing melody; it's Robert Wilson and Jandek soundtracking your gramma's "we tied onions to our belts, which was the style at the time" ramblings. But, you know… fun.
The stories themselves are pleasing both as the kind of adventure tales the Furnaces have told before (albeit occasionally the adventure of romance or social intrigue) and as glimpses into the past, and many individual details, especially with Olga's delivery, are charming, as when she concludes a somewhat intricate condemnation of a bishop with "and he haaaaaaated women." The music is precisely arranged, with themes recurring and shifting, and rarely less than thrilling. It's another keeper from a band entering the canon through the backdoor, and when you know they've already recorded and announced its follow-up (the more song-oriented Bitter Tea), you can't help but be amazed.
Michael Barthel
LUKE TAN
Untitled
Independent Release
Athens songwriter Michael Luchtan (AKA Luke Tan) has proven with this release - his third of this year alone! - that he is as serious about his music as he is about wanting to be taken seriously. After several years of placing his songs in front of audiences and making his vast archives available on-line, he's shown demonstrable talent, but at times, his habit of self-mythologizing tends to overshadow his actual songs. Untitled is proof that the artistic license he employs has been well used and should be renewed permanently.
Piano interludes, one of which begins the record, are interspersed throughout the seven-song album, breaking apart tracks like "Deliverance," a darkly styled tune whose bottoming-out distortion is reminiscent of very early Neutral Milk Hotel. The minor chord progression is far moodier than anything Mangum & Co. were doing that early, though. "Take And Leave #3" begins with a gentle banjo plucking that augments Luchtan's soft, almost whispering, voice. The song shifts gears, only slightly, when a violin, played by Andrej Kurti enters the mix. Overall the songs lend Luke Tan the air of a rough-hewn Iron & Wine.
Luchtan departs radically from the first part of the record on "The Snake That Speaks Through The Burning Bush," which features distorted vocals. It's a decent track but a little heavy-handed in its political reach. "A Song for Albert Parsons" makes good use of vocal echoes, which most times are a cheap effect utilized to bolster a person's voice. Luchtan makes them sound ghostly while his guitar plays a tune very in line with the tradition of Neil Young and Gram Parsons.
Ultimately, there is a very real sense of sadness that covers everything Luke Tan does, and it's much too permeating to be considered part of his storytelling or mythmaking. Michael Luchtan writes very human songs, and it's this quality more than any other that makes him stand out in a genre so rife with gypsies, tramps and thieves.
Gordon Lamb
Luke Tan is playing at Hot Corner Coffee on Friday, Nov. 11.
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Record Reviews
originally published November 2, 2005
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