COSMICBEN'S RECORD REVIEWS
"I'm a talentless dweeb with no street credibility who substitutes blatant commercialism for art. But man, this site's crizzunk." -- Jay Z.
Random "D" Bands
* * * * * Derek & The Dominos: Layla And Other Assorted Love Songs (1970)--Way back before I slapped the title of "critic" on my forehead, I had absolutely no interest in listening to albums I hated in order to expand my musical horizons; I didn't give a crap about learning the bad tracks on a record; and a whole bunch of my purchases had the words "Greatest Hits" tattooed on their labels. Basically, I only listened to the stuff I liked (luckily, I've gotten over such childishness), and that rarely constituted an entire album, especially a 70-minute double-album opus--I listened to songs, not albums. But Layla was different: forced to help clean the house after our cleaning lady skipped town, I have many fond memories of mop-mop-mopping all day long and blasting Layla all over the house and annoying the heck out of my family. Maybe I was just brainwashed by the fact that Wilson and Alroy actually agreed that this is a classic, but I truly believe, even today, that this is an incredible album. Fuck the guitars: I'm mostly bored to death by "Key To The Highway," a guitar jam that everyone else loves (in fact, fuck the whole middle section, with the possible exception of "Why Does Love Got To Be So Sad," simply because it's faster than the others). Concentrate on what I feel makes an album great: songwriting, emotion, and cool guitars--as long as they complement the sound and don't attempt to dress up a poor composition. Dig the opener, "I Looked Away"--an phenomenal three-minute pop song with a perfect guitar arrangement. Dig "Bell Bottom Blues," a heartbreaking love song; and "Keep On Growing," a playful rave-up; and the subtle acoustic loveliness of "I Am Yours"; and the rocker "Anyday," my pick for the album's best song, with a magnetic, heartbreaking chorus. Dig the moaning cacophany of "Little Wing" and the anguished vocals of "It's Too Late" and the perfection of the hit title track and the peaceful melancholy of "Thorn Tree In The Garden." Blissful stuff. Eric Clapton and Duane Allman give the album its guitar sound, Eric and Bobby Whitlock supply the anguished-white-boy vocals, and Jim Gordon lays down a letter-perfect beat. Maybe it's only because I haven't yet heard cool black guys play the blues, but for now, these white boys take me on a wild emotional ride every time I hear Layla--you'd do well to pick it up.
* * * 1/2 Disclaimer: Bombs By Night, Balloons By Morning (2001)--Chris Willie Williams' debut disc isn't as instantly accessible as his follow-up, but it's still full of quiet charms and several stand-out tracks. When Chris slips in a keyboard riff, such as on the frustratingly short "Disclaimer Guy Theme", it's almost always quirky and memorable. Much of the album, though, sounds like he's just getting the hang of self-production, with fuzzy guitar and clattering electronic drums rendering several tracks a bit samey. Additionally, his voice is pretty but not too distinctive, and usually buried in the mix. It all falls short on the four cover songs, which seem cut-rate and unnecessary if competently performed. But the prodcution is just fine as a showcase for Chris's strong songwriting. He might be my favorite lyricist ever, able to choose a feeling and express every facet of it with well-chosen details. It's sad that most of the lyrics express anger and frustration, but they're clearly honest and never pandering. His melodies are also enjoyable, even if they don't all initially stand out. "Your Bird Is Going To Fly Away" and "Five Mile Hill" are both frantic, classic singalongs; my other favorites are the ferocious "Maybe Today He'll Explode" and the clunky, charming doo-wop "Similar To Sugar Pill", a rare admission of starry-eyed giddiness. There are no bad songs, just a few indistinct, loping melodies that are still quite pretty. If the album could use production that better grabs the listener by the throat, it's still a catchy and lyrically engrossing snapshot of Chris's scared, furious and (for one song, anyway) happy moments.
* * * * 1/2 Disclaimer: The Airbag's Lipstick Kiss (2003)--Chris Willie Williams' lyrics are like fascinating little stories. He latches onto a subject and harrowingly dissects it, using metaphor and grotesque imagery to express his deepest feelings. Disclaimer's second album is an examination of Chris's pain after the end of a four-year relationship. Song titles like "You Ruined Everything" might give the impression that this is a lengthy put-down of his ex, but to me it sounds like he's just crying in his room and trying to figure things out. There are a few wild swipes at her, and even more regret and self-doubt. Why else would he begin the album with an brilliantly incisive laundry list of his own faults? That particular song, "Fixing A Hole", features an airy electro-reggae backing that's typical of the rest of the album; it's clearly the work of that guy sitting in his room, but intricate and clever enough that you'll barely notice. Those arrangements are the highlight of the album: they vary from the colorful bleeps of "God Said, 'Plastics!'" to the blistering punk of "You Ruined Everything" to the atmospheric jangle of "Hell" to the pure quiet beauty of "Generic Shoulder Blade Tattoo". "De Sitter Horizons" isn't as initially striking, but the watery, gripping arrangement makes it one of my favorites. The album is brilliantly sequenced, too: just as I'm reeling from the wild, melodic "Please Pardon Our Progress!!" (featuring Joe Hinchcliffe), Chris deflates everything with the somber, trembling lament "I Couldn't End It There". By the end, I'm musically refreshed and emotionally exhausted, the mark of an album that viscerally communicates pain without ever monotonously wallowing in it.
* * * * The Dukes of Stratosphear: Psionic Psunspot--This is just XTC pretending they're a 60's sort-of-cover-band, but damned if they're not really clever about it. Viewed one way, it's brilliant: they recreate the styles of tons of old bands, throwing in lots of old-timey production tricks and some of the smartest lyrics you'll ever hear. If you want to nitpick, though, you can say that the songs are fun, but nothing that would have hit it big in the 60's, and that XTC is just continuing their streak of albums that work well as historical documents/in-jokes, but not as original artistic statements of any kind. Luckily, the songwriting is mostly up to par: the best song is a bouncy pub number that actually stands on its own rather than as a direct copy ("You're A Good Man Albert Brown"), and others (the Hollies send-up "Vanishing Girl," the gender-bending singalong "Have You See Jackie") are catchy and exciting. And they hit the mark on two of the three mock-Beatles tracks: the "Lennon" number "Collideascope" (ooh, how clever...) has a great hook, and "Paul's" "Braniac's Daughter" is bubbly and fun, but "Shiny Cage" tries so hard to sound like it came off of Revolver that it doesn't go anywhere--and it steals the opening chord from "I'm Only Sleeping," a tacky theft that they manage to avoid on the other songs. A few others are mediocre too: the Byrdsy "You're My Drug" is monotone and lethargic, and the much-lauded late-period Beach Boys tribute "Pale and Precious" is pretty and full of Brian Wilson-type production tricks, but it has no hooks, sounding more like half of a great Beach Boys song than anything that Brian himself would have authorized. They put lots of effort into this album, though: most of the tracks are creatively linked together, and there are a few snatches of inspired pseudo-Alice In Wonderland dialogue thrown in for the hell of it. It's all tons of fun to listen to, and the zillions of little production tricks will have you studying each song trying to find out where it all came from (or you can just look here if you're lazy). Psunspot is available on the Dukes' Chips From the Chocolate Fireball compilation CD, which also has their earlier 25 O'Clock EP. It's hard to find, but if you're interested in hearing four guys having a blast showing off how smart they are, it's well worth tracking down.
* * * * * Bob Dylan: Highway 61 Revisited (1965)--Let me start this off with a disclaimer: I have no idea what Bob Dylan's talking about. I recognize that he writes great stream-of-consciousness poetry--the words sound really cool--but as for any deeper meaning, I just can't see it. When I listen to "Ballad of a Thin Man," I might be thinking "Heh heh, he said 'You're a cow'," but definitely not "Wow, what a biting condemnation of the squares of the world." I'm not saying that there's no meaning in his lyrics, only that it's not apparent to me. I also have my pet theory that lots of people simply pretend to understand Dylan--after all, I'm a mildly bright guy and I don't--but maybe I'm just bitter about things. One thing I can't deny, though, is Dylan's massive intelligence; these songs sound smart, and no matter what he's really saying, they deserve the giant onus of "importance" that everyone slaps on them. Also, I was blown away by the melodies on this album--they range from gripping-but-not-really-there ("Tombstone Blues") to wistful ("Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues") to haunting ("Desolation Row"), and his fantastic imagery always adds to the mood. Meanwhile, the instrumentation is rambling and disjointed, but in a charming, western saloon type of way, and his vocal delivery is direct and heartfelt, even if he hates everything in the world. As for the songs, a few of them are slight or unmemorable, but all of them have their good points, and at least half are full-fledged classics, especially the two epics that bookend the album ("Like A Rolling Stone," "Desolation Row"). And I'd be remiss if I didn't mention "Queen Jane Approximately," my favorite song on the record--it's usually called one of the weaker tracks, so maybe I'm falling for the sappy melody, but it gets to me every time. In sum, this is a solid example of why the 60's giants were Just That Good--or maybe I'm just a sucker for the word "cow"!