Paul Stanley

Live To Win

New Door

originally published November 29, 2006

There are 10 songs on the self-produced Paul Stanley solo album and every one of the tracks is a hit. Unfortunately, they're not hits for Paul Stanley! The KISS lead vocalist and guitarist has instead released an album of songs with which the likes of Evanescence, Kelly Clarkson or even Kenny Chesney could burn up the charts. But Stanley's over-emotive vocal style and super-clean production simply sound out of place on the rock charts of today.

“Lift” is possibly the most successful attempt at merging his vocals with a current sound. If Amy Lee and her crew latched onto it, this could be huge. Meanwhile, Chesney could take the power ballad “Second To None” to the top and possibly even cross over to the pop charts. “Every Time I See You Around” and “Loving You Without You Now,” the other two ballads, should go to the next couple "American Idol" finalists. The problem here is with Stanley's delivery. And the sad thing is that there's nothing that can be done to improve this album. It's perfect for what it is. It's concise, sounds great and is full of well-written songs! If it were any time between 1986 and 1990, Live To Win would be a classic pop-metal album. As it stands in 2006, however, it's a case of too little, too late.

One thing is clearly evident from listening to this album: if Stanley were to move out of the performer realm and into the role of a pop-rock producer, he could be a real contender. He's damn good at that. Unfortunately, his days as a relevant recording artist appear to be over.

Architecture in Helsinki

We Died, They Remixed

Tailem Bend / Bar None

originally published November 29, 2006

Remix collections are the new live albums: inessential placeholders released mainly to remind everyone of a band's existence when they take too long recording their follow-up. (Labels prefer them because remixes require even less up-front expenditure than live albums.) But they have, at least, gotten better. Whereas a remix album used to consist of five remixes each of only two or three separate songs, and made you weep for the future of mankind, the modern model offers one or two remixes each of most of the songs on the original album, comprising essentially an alternate-universe version of the parent disc.

However, they rarely justify their existence, either by holding together as an album or by surpassing (or at least equaling) the original. This is because remixes are done for one of three reasons: practicality (producing a version more likely to cause and sustain dancing), creative (seeing unexplored possibilities in the original and exploring them), or self-promotional ("look, it's my signature sound, but with someone I've never met singing words I didn't write over it!"). Since each remixer has her own agenda, a collection of said remixes will almost inevitably sound disconnected, and since not everyone chooses reason No. 2, there's little hope of a boost in overall quality.

All that said, the Architecture in Helsinki remix album We Died, They Remixed does not succeed, but it comes reasonably close, reworking tracks from the album In Case We Die. The 33hz remix of "It's 5!" goes straight for the disco jugular, and Hot Chip's predictably excellent remix of "Do The Whirlwind" takes its parts and sets them at different angles. But even these lack the punch to grab your attention and announce themselves as full songs. Oddly enough, the best remixes are the ones that take AiS's pretty indie-pop sound and emphasize that prettiness rather than the songs themselves. Qua's remix of "Maybe You Can Owe Me" comes out like a long-lost Nancy Sinatra track, and the ones that follow it conjure a welcome warm and relaxed mood without abandoning the spikiness that AiS favors. These end the album, and instead of being the filler, they're the highlights.

It would be interesting to see the remix collection taken more seriously as an artistic form. Just as some bands have taken to covering entire albums, a remixer could take an album and remix every track, with an eye less for the songs' individual impact than for their coherence and the way in which they play off the originals in productive and illuminating ways. Sure, there was that rash of album-length mashups (and arguably Love, the "new" Beatles album qualifies, but its insistence on not adding any new material makes it a different beast), but those lacked the access that a remixer has to not only the a cappellas, but every individual track. It's unlikely that a band would offer someone else that kind of freedom, and even less likely that someone else would want to invest the time necessary to make it work. But it sure would be interesting, no?

Isobel Campbell

Milkwhite Sheets

V2

originally published November 29, 2006

Former Belle & Sebastian member Isobel Campbell's last album, a duet with Mark Lanegan, set her tissue paper voice against his cardboard one in the midst of roomy arrangements, and people liked it, although paying attention long enough to figure out exactly why - aside from the feeling that pretty was being confused with quiet - was a challenge. Campbell left her old band as it was changing into a more muscular beast; as she likes things quieter, which was a sensible move, given how easily her voice is overpowered. But main B&S'er Stuart Murdoch's strategy of arranging for Campbell was probably right: her voice needs to be driven along, not given room, because if you give an inch, it'll take a mile.

Unfortunately, there's nothing on Milkwhite Sheets but room: acoustic guitar and an itinerant, ineffectual cello, filled up with maybe one melody and indistinct words, all conveying the impression of someone taking herself too seriously. There are things to like, in theory. It's almost a stripped-down version of freak-folk's incantatory mumblings, and the simplicity and directness of its approach may appeal to folky types. There is one great track, and surprisingly, it's the obligatory overly-long finale, "Thursday's Child." At eight minutes, it stops paying so much attention to Campbell and lets the instruments (here including percussion, electric guitar and a cello given permission to wander) forge their own sleepy path through the nighttime prairie. With a few more efforts like this, the album could've actually provided comfort to those wandering lonely in the cold.

The Skygreen Leopards

Disciples of California

Jagjaguwar

originally published November 29, 2006

Eleven tracks, and thankfully, Anthony Kiedis is nowhere to be found on Disciples of California. No traces of funk punk or Flea are present to mar an exquisite example of redwood forest neo-folk with sunny edges and surreal religious undertones.

Undoubtedly (or maybe just perhaps) this is a concept album. However, after repeated listening, the deeper meanings of what recurring characters and settings like Sally Orchid and Shawnapee represent and why, remains unclear. Perhaps the front porch by firelight feel renders meaning meaningless. “Marching Band” and “Golden Pilgrim” are beautiful in their simplicity and sloppiness, and listeners will feel enlightened by the experience despite ignorance of every allusion and symbol.

Multi-instrumentalists and songwriters Donovan Quinn and Glen Donaldson and their Skyband move in a motion slower than most - in rhythm like beetles suspended in tree sap. Their vocal harmonies are the subtle slur of a likeable (yet unfortunate) soul prolonging a field sobriety test because the outcome is certain, and a few more moments on the side of a country road delay arrival at a decidedly more dismal destination.