R&B Listening Journal, Volume Two

Part one is here.

"Go To Hell," Raphael Saadiq
Saadiq is a production maven--this year's Stone Rollin' sounds brilliant, even when the songs are mediocre--and nowhere is that more apparent than this track. One might expect "Go To Hell" to be dominated by bass, like Curtis Mayfield's dubby "If There's A Hell Below (We're All Going To Go)." And there is some wonderful, rolling bass here. But the treble dominates--"Hell" lifts off as soon as it starts, with its dreamy synths, and continues on an upward trajectory, fueled by strings, horns and backing vocals. Your usual palette, but especially vivid. Nothing invokes hellfire at all, and Saadiq's song soars higher and higher--this is a song that earns the lyric "we need more love in the world today"--until it enters the psychedelic promised land. Norman Whitfield would be proud.

"Muah," Electrik Red
Tricky and The-Dream's girl group project, released around the time of Love Vs. Money, bears the marks of their best work. "Muah" glides along, masking the dozen or so interlocking parts. It's complex, atmospheric music, one of the best productions on How To Be A Lady, Volume 1. And it turns out that female vocals make a lovely accompaniment to this sound, at least as good as Dream's own. The rub's in the lyrics, though. They closely resemble--how to say this--a certain male R&B auteur's idea of female empowerment. If I never hear Binkie spit her verse ("I'm not a freak, I'm not a ho/well I'm lying/but I'm classy though") again, that's fine here.

"Don't Let The Green Grass Fool You," Wilson Pickett
Wilson Pickett was a shouter with a knack for recording in the right places (the Wicked Pickett cut material at golden-era Stax and Muscle Shoals). This 1970 track found him in Philadelphia, working with Gamble and Huff just before their sound got huge. It's one of his sweeter numbers, and Pickett carries it with unusual restraint. The lyrics are a resigned plea, a mature missive from a man whose signature songs typically concern fucking. Pickett sells it though, his vocals a little more nuanced than on "Mustang Sally," even working in a few shouts where he can.

"Last Night Pt. 2," Diddy-Dirty Money
Diddy's Last Train To Paris was totally eclipsed by My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, to the point that critics deemed it only the 153rd best album of 2010. But Sean Combs' latest is quite good--star-studded and grandiose, much like Kanye's opus. Last Train is never so instantly pleasurable as on this bonus track, which Diddy mostly cedes to Dirty Money and co-writer James Fauntleroy (I think). It's a fairly straightforward Prince rip, recalling the drum programming and sparseness of "When Doves Cry" and "If I Was Your Girlfriend." Like those songs, "Last Night," peppers a lover with questions, although the questions aren't as weird in Diddy's song. To amend, "Last Night" drops a chiming, Prince-worthy melody. It's dope.

"I Got Love," Charles Wright and the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band
These guys are like Pavement's soul predecessors. Wright and his group jam on some of the loosest grooves ever laid down, forever sounding about to fall apart, behind the beat, and uncertain of what direction to go next. "I Got Love" is no exception to their formula, but this stoned soul number breezes by in a haze of melody and decomposing J.B.'s riffs. "I got the sun, the moon, the stars and the sky," Wright sings, "you're the only thing that can ruin my high." Maybe, maybe, but Wright sounds deeply in love, and soul this sweet has never harshed anyone's buzz.

"Shit, Damn, Motherfucker," D'Angelo
In just 45 words, D'Angelo paints an expressionistic portrait of love, rage and violence. It's delivered in the sultriest, most damaged voice--D'Angelo wasn't yet the sex symbol he became, but he sounded like one. And the slow groove, suggestive of the smoky backroom our narrator waded into, transmits the lyrics in slow-motion, stretching out each question, then flashing forward to find our man still uncertain of what's happened, even after his terrible mistake.

"Love Uprising," The Chi-Lites
The Chi-Lites do a pretty mean synthesis of The Impressions with solo Curits Mayfield. It's not a vast palette, but I mean this as a great compliment when I say that "Love Uprising" sounds like a song Mayfield could have made. "Love Uprising" works the same vibe as Superfly's "No Thing On Me (Cocaine Song)"--Eugene Record's lead resembles Mayfield's delicate vocal, and the strings summon a similar aura. Both songs are eminently hopeful. Wonderful things are possible, they say, with a little effort on our part. The 70's proved that things aren't that simple, but it saps none of these songs' power. Change starts with belief, and "Love Uprising" believes.

"Bob George," Prince
Prince didn't wan't you to buy The Black Album. Which means he doesn't want you to hear "Bob George," one of his sickest jams. Rocking a beat extremely similar to the previous year's "Housequake," it's an entire song of Prince spewing out hate. He plays a violent, vile pimp on a tear. His voice is pitched way down, and if the monologue hewed a little closer to the beat, this would be gangsta rap. It probably is anyway--the narrator unleashes gunfire, no small degree of hatred towards women and even slams the Purple One as "that skinny motherfucker with the high voice." Because you don't fuck with this dude. Who does he look like, baby? Yesterday's fool? For someone who can't stand them TV dinners, you sure eat enough of them motherfuckers.

Aaron's Favorites, 2010: Always Never Not Giving A Fuck

With apologies to Let's Wrestle, who's fantastic In The Court Of Wrestling Let's has been deemed ineligible, Aaron's 10 favorite releases of 2010:

1. Beach House, Teen Dream

A diffuse, gorgeous sound world. Listening to Alex Scally's guitar unfold over Victoria Legrand's vocal and keyboard melodies is the most enveloping, elegant narcotic on the market.

2. Big Boi, Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son Of Chico Dusty
Big Boi just wanted to make an album. Label trouble delayed it for years and kept Andre 3000 away. Whenever it was released, Sir Lucious Left Foot's virtuosic mic acrobatics were never really in doubt. But who could have predicted an album this joyous, this gleeful about the possibilities of funk?

3. Crime In Stereo, I Was Trying To Describe You To Someone
On their swan song, the Long Island group construct a violent, fractured punk. This is "melodic hardcore," but there's little melody here. I hear only fury--in the controlled explosions of the tempo, in the anguished dual vocals, and in the eviscerating guitar textures.

4. Caetano Veloso, zii e zie
The Brazilian master, now 68, cracks open his skull and lets us take a peek inside. The contents--languid, martian jams, which Veloso has termed transambas--are no surprise, and yet he makes each moment sound like a revelation.

5. The-Dream, Love King
The synthesizer symphonies of Love King are a letdown after last year's genius Love Vs. Money, but only just. Dream's music remains the platonic ideal of contemporary R&B--effortless, immediate music, with quirks and charms still revealing themselves months later.

6. Kanye West, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
A fascinating and uneasy mix of West's egocentric philosophizing and terrible humor with the collective ennui of the group vocals, always popping up to comment on the action, as in Greek tragedy. The production is, of course, next level--dizzying, colorful collages of sound that pulse and thump with tenacity.

7. Das Racist, Sit Down, Man
Overheard on Sit Down, Man: "We just like rap, we don't even need rap." Maybe so, but rap needs Himanshu Suri and Victor Vazquez, at once laconic and whip smart, and surely the first hip-hop group to make eating nachos and reading critical theory sound ill as hell.

8. Grinderman, Grinderman 2
This unholy alliance of Nick Cave and a trio of the baddest seeds don't yet rival their day job band, but damn if they're not coming close. The Grinderguys pound out a strain demonic blues-scuzz you thought they didn't make any more.

9. No Age, Everything In Between
All indie-rock should sound like this: flurries of fuzz and hooks. The album gets stuck in an ambient ditch for a few tracks, but No Age can shred and transcend at will, and even sneak in a couple mid-tempo stunners.

10. Tame Impala, Innerspeaker
A big, groove-oriented psychedelic record in a year when even Dungen disappointed. The reverberations and acid-tinged flow of Innerspeaker aren't just retro signifiers though, they're the building blocks of 2010's most immersive sound.

Critical Beatdown: Round 7

Note: This XL Beatdown was (largely) guest-curated by Geoff S., who blogs over at Reading (b)log.

Nikki & Rich, "Next Best Thing"
AM: Sanitized retro R&B for the shopping mall crowd. If you find contemporary R&B a little too 'urban' for your tastes, but crave uninsightful lyrics about sex, this should do. 1/5

NS: The product of a jailbait chanteuse/enigmatic DJ duo whose idea of soulful probably begins and ends with Amy Winehouse, "Next Best Thing" at least has the ebullience of its subject matter and a comfortable and commanding lead singer, so it isn't all bad. But if DJ Rich Skillz wants to stay in this business, he might want to consider expanding his palate, and learn more than two piano chords. You know, just in case. 2.5/5

Teenage Fanclub, "Baby Lee"
AM: Shadows was in the can before Chilton died, but "Baby Lee" only highlights what a talent we lost. Even the Big Star obsessives in Fanclub can't fill that void, which isn't to say this isn't a good song. A bit slow, but the the tune churns along winningly, with a sweet chorus. 4/5

NS: Bandwagonesque fan though I am, the rest of Teenage Fanclub's discography remains unknown to me, and this piledriver of a power-pop number proves how mistaken I was to write them off. Their trademark heavy guitar crunch is mostly absent, but they find a worthy replacement via the magic of economically-applied string parts, which fit them well, of course. 5/5

Zola Jesus, "Night"
AM: Bands sure have weird names these days, don't they? It's not a problem, I guess, but this is music that grinds along gloomily. "Night" is just short of quality, without a compelling element to suck listeners into its dark haze. 2.5/5

NS: I like a bit of dreadful, stifling atmosphere in my music, especially stuff like Siouxsie and the Cure (as well as obvious antecedents like Bat For Lashes), but the thicket of keyboards herein would probably sound better soundtracking the next David Lynch movie than it would as a singular album. Zola Jesus certainly seems to have the skills necessary to make transportive music, so why does this feel pre-sequestered for goth club bathroom music? 3/5

MGMT, "Brian Eno"
AM: This would make for good listening on Halloween, if people still care about MGMT come October. Spookier than I'd imagined, which totally befits a tribute to the non-musician. The madcap "Eno" has something of the spirit--much diluted, of course--of Here Comes the Warm Jets, so I won't complain. 4/5

NS: MGMT might think this ultra-prehensile garage number has the requisite blips and bloops to act as a legit tribute to its namesake, but to my ears it sounds more like one of the late Jay Reatard's Nuggets psychedelic goofs, and that's not a bad thing. As an MGMT-agnostic, I find this more exciting than any of their previous chart-toppers, but as a statement of musical allegiance, it's no "Alex Chilton." 3.5/5

UNKLE, "Natural Selection"
AM: The music whirs and buzzes like XTRMNTR-era Primal Scream, but without the same fury. This song seems rather to skip along the precipice, without ever taking that plunge, hiding its tunefulness in some almost Peter Hook-ian bass work. 4.5/5

NS: UNKLE could teach Zola Jesus and MGMT a thing or two about how to do the 80's right (if you absolutely have to). Sounding like a Tears For Fears or Gary Numan song shot full of Hawkwind-amphetamine fuzz bass, "Natural Selection" shows again how often it is that the best post-punk is being made by DJs, especially in England. You also get some of the coolest bass tones in recent memory. 4.5/5

Erykah Badu, "Window Seat"
AM: The sort of thing Nikki & Rich will never be, "Window Seat" hearkens back to the Baduizms of the singer's neo-soul period. I was hoping for "Honey Redux" personally, but the gently lingering keys remind us that we won't need a next best thing while Erykah's still around. 4/5

NS: One of my biggest musical blind spots involves Erykah Badu and the neo-soul movement she comes out of (a very different type of neo-soul than Nikki & Rich), so perhaps not listening to New Amerykah Part One disqualifies me from making negative judgments. This is...not exciting music, to be sure. Badu is a powerful singer, but everything about the track is so quiet and lounge-y, so when something lovely does pop out of the ether, and the instruments get a bit more lively, you can't blame me for not noticing. 2/5

Insane Clown Posse, "Miracles"
AM: The productions sounds like the PS2 beats of Boy In Da Corner, without the sharp edges, and the rapping is barely competent. And yet, in something of a miracle itself, this song doesn't suck. The ICP's dumb wonder sounds so sincere I can't help but share it, and professionalism is never a prerequisite to a good jam. Side note: is there a contemporary American folk movement larger than the Juggalos? They must be doing something right. 3.5/5

NS: Thank you/fuck you Aaron for taking my ICP V-card after years of studiously avoiding this group [you can thank Geoff --Aaron]. But I won't lie: "Miracles" is a strangely powerful experience, less so for the music than for the inspiring conviction with which these two proudly ignorant rappers name off natural phenomena they are easily impressed by (Favorite: "Music is ALL magic/you can't even hold it!"). Their rap skills are non-existent, and the production is sub-Casio, but somehow that's beside the point, so I'm forced to plead the Fifth on this one. RATING: N/A

Caribou, "Odessa"
AM: These spasmodic rhythms recall Remain In Light in the best possible sense. The album cover of the upcoming Swim captures this groove better than my clumsy words could hope to. 4.5/5

NS: This is by far the best thing Caribou has yet produced. Typically inscrutable and distorted for maximum terror, it's also the ultimate amphetamine buzz of this nascent 2010. And at the same time...you can almost dance to it. Hats off to this math professor for using his considerable intellect towards the cause of cramming as many awesome and crazy ideas into a song as he can. 5/5

The-Dream feat. T.I. "F.I.L.A."
AM: A slice of Southern triumphalism that falls slightly short of its aspirations. The loud, synthetic horns regrettably overshadow the piano, which tinkles with quiet bite. Dream tosses out hooks like it's his birthday. 4/5

NS: You know from the first "AAAAAYYY" that this is a T.I. song, and then The-Dream intrudes on Tip's territory with his own trademark "Radio KILLLAAAAA," so it's hard to say who the dominant force is on this track. I'm always happy to hear new T.I., particularly when the track in question bears the hallmarks of his King-era music, but with the sweetness of those horns, this could easily be appended to Love Vs Money. And it would be one of the best songs. 4/5

Critical Beatdown: Round 6

The Black Keys, "Tighten Up"
NS: You can make or break a Black Keys song based on the quality of its central riff, and in the case of "Tighten Up" it is a good one. Far bluesier than anything the White Stripes have done in a long time and a lot lighter as well, this is a good track that reminds me what I once liked about the Black Keys: a punk-filtered bluesiness as authentic as it is catchy. 4/5

AM: Muscle Shoals guitar stabs, soulful white blues vocals, percussion nearly as wild as a certain Archie Bell and the Drells classic; I didn't realize The Keys had this in them. Although the song ends on a detour less exciting than the first 2:30, I can safely say I never thought I'd live in an age when Dan Auerbach's songwriting outpaced Jack White's. 4/5

The Hold Steady, "Hurricane J"
NS: I've never been much of a fan of the Hold Steady, but to my mind this song constitutes at least a slight improvement over what I've heard in the past. The lyrics don't make me cringe with their Springsteenian exactness, and Finn's songwriting has a lot of forward momentum, even if the melodies are typically generic. However, like most Hold Steady songs, it can't hold my interest for two minutes, let alone three. 2/5

AM: Who fucking mastered this? Every Hold Steady album sounds twice as compressed as the one before it. We're now at iteration eight or so of the good chick in bad company theme, and this fan is getting a bit tired. "Hurricane J" almost bored me, but Craig and crew make midtempo sound better than it should. 4/5

Orianthi, "According To You"
NS: Hearing those lead metal breaks force their way into this saccharine, hyper-calculated Disney-rock song that can best be described as "Avril-lite" has been one of the most unpleasant experiences of my 2010. Michael Jackson's former guitarist is a perfect storm of generic voice plus generic playing ability, saddled with an arrangement as plain and uninspiring as they come. To paraphrase her deceased boss: This Is Shit. 0/5

AM: "According To You" features unusually wild fretwork, at least by mall-punk standards, by the young singer herself. The lyrics could use a shot of grrrl power--don't let those boys define you, O--but it sure beats "Telephone." 2.5/5

She & Him, "In The Sun"
NS: Maybe I'm in a bad mood today, but boy, this song pushes all the wrong buttons. Zooey Deschanel has been in some good movies, but her voice is the lifeless instrument upon which this uninspired mish-mash of generic indie sounds hinges upon, and it has the musical staying power of airport jamz. If stuff like Sufjan Stevens' orchestrations and epic singalongs are your thing, then you might like this. I'm already asleep trying to describe it. 1/5

AM: No one asked for a peppy take on Cat Power, but M. Ward and Z. Deschanel deliver. Or maybe they decided an annoying version of El Perro Del Mar was in order. I'm not sure what they were thinking, but if the lyrics are any indication, they weren't thinking very hard. 2/5

Drake feat. The-Dream, "Shut It Down"
NS: Drake and The-Dream are two of pop music's preeminent maximalists: both of their productions are characterized by deep, epic synth lines and echo-laden drums. So it's sort of surprising how flimsy this is. It sounds indulgent and dirge-y at first, and only towards the very end does it progress in an interesting manner. Drake is not as good a singer as he is a rapper; this is even more obvious when he trades lines with The-Dream. 2/5

AM: Astute Critical Beatdown readers may have noticed me slowly warming to Drake, and I'm always game for some Dream. Producers Noah "40" Shebib and Omen lay down a slow, intergalactic soulfulness, and the principals coo words of devotion, as if to each other. Beautiful stuff. 4.5/5

Aaron's Favorites, 2009

1. Dinosaur Jr, Farm
At first the songs seemed too long, the lyrics lazy even by Mascis standards. But beneath his slacker veneer, J has always been a perfectionist, a weird visionary for a sugary thrash no other band even dares attempt. Turns out the extended jams and warm production just give Dinosaur--as good a trio as has ever lumbered--more room to soar.

2. The-Dream, Love Vs. Money
An update of Dirty Mind in the post-crunk era. Unlike the Purple One, Dream isn't a game-changer, but he and collaborator Tricky Stewart's lavish, gorgeous songwriting--interlocking beds of synths, loverman coos, gang chants, and elastic rhythms--is miles ahead of the competition.

3. Wye Oak, The Knot
Wye Oak's 2007 debut was an often beautiful, occasionally awkward shotgun marriage of folk and shoegaze. The Baltimore duo's second disc tends towards the latter, and goes places the band simply couldn't two years ago. Jenn Wasner's plaintive vocals still keep both feet on the ground. Her guitar's mournful too, but the fucking thing sounds massive.

4. Morrissey, Years Of Refusal
"All you need is me," our hero intones, brashly. I believe him. As a vocalist, he's untouchable--operatic, masculine, nimble--and his band powers through the album's fantastic rockers and only slightly less-great ballads with aplomb. Oscar Wilde's favorite album of 2009.

5. Amadou and Mariam, Welcome To Mali
Vocalist/guitarist/songwriter Amadou Bagayoko and his vocalist/songwriter wife Mariam write songs completely their own--ringing and clear, with melodies at once accessible and elusive. An all-world set of collaborators help bring their visions to vivid life.

6. Sonic Youth, The Eternal
No new tricks here, but SY sound fiercer than they have in ages. Thurston Moore and Lee Ronaldo's fuzz-squall alchemy continues, with some typically cool-sounding vocals on top.

7. Raekwon, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx, Part II
Unlike many of his peers, Rae has never been a natural on the mic. But what he lacks in the agility department he makes up with pure grit. OB4CL2 is miles better than its predecessor, just harder, with better beats, ace guest rappers, and some brutal OG wisdom.

8. Flaming Lips, Embryonic
Mindfuck music, in the form of an unexpected and very welcome left turn. Shit, it's not anthemic even once! While one of your speakers spools out bad-trip synths, the other blasts nightmare bass and spider guitar.

9. The xx, The xx
The sound of slow burn. These absurdly young upstarts make lust music, somehow synthesizing the aims of Sparhawk and Timbaland while infusing their songs with a potent negative space.

10. Camera Obscura, My Maudlin Career
Expert indie-pop. Tracyanne and Co. have spent as much time studying the C86 songbook as their purely heart-pained colleagues, but The Obscura have evolved into a symphonic, even muscular mope-rock outfit.

Feel The Paean

I've been listening to 1993's No Alternative compilation recently. It's hit and miss, and outtakes and live versions make up a third of the comp, but mostly it's pretty sweet: The Smashing Pumpkins' "Glynis" reminds you how actually really talented Billy Corgan used to be, bands I wasn't familiar with like The Verlaines and Barbara Manning and the San Francisco Seals turn in good work, American Music Club further convince me I really need to start listening to them and Nirvana's "Verse Chorus Verse" is Nirvana's "Verse Chorus Verse".

The undisputable highlight, however, is Pavement's "Unseen Power Of The Picket Fence." In an ealier attempt to write about NA from a slightly different angle, I noted that the track

might be the single best song the band ever did, a paean to R.E.M.'s Reckoning so good it bests nearly everything on that album. You haven't lived until you've heard S.M. shout "'Time After Time' was my least favorite song. 'Time After Time' was my least favorite song!"

And I stand behind that. I've listened to a lot of M.B.V., but I don't think I've ever heard guitars woozier than the ones that open "Unseen Power Of The Picket Fence," all metallic clang and hazy swoosh. Malkmus' vocal performance is pretty restrained, really stoned-sounding, and he never really betrays his love of Reckoning in his straight-faced yelps (we know of course that SM adored R.E.M. and especially Reckoning, from the lyrics but also from the fact that his band would cover "Camera" in 1994, albeit somewhat poorly). The song trudges forward, its rhythm section barely discernible as Malkmus narrates the R.E.M. story confusingly, mentioning Chronic Town but omitting Murmur and listing about half the songs on the record. In the next part--you could hardly call them verses and the song's structure eludes me--Malkmus describes the band in a way that does his (and Stipe's) lyrical elusiveness justice while succinctly capturing at least three-fourths of R.E.M.:

The singer, he had long hair
And the drummer he knew restraint
And the bass man he had all the right moves
And the guitar player was no saint

From there, the song evokes William Tecumseh Sherman and launches into a coda featuring what would appear to be Civil War Soldiers shouting to one another about wagons and artillery. At this point the metallic sounds pulsate dissonantly, a weird but convincing evocation of Sothern Gothic. It's its own beast; nothing even Pavement did has ever sounded like "Unseen Power Of The Picket Fence."

I've been thinking about the track recently, partly because I think about it a lot, partly because it was the first Pavement song I ever heard, but mostly because I've been listening to another love letter to an album in song form, The-Dream's "Kelly's 12 Play."

I should say that I think Love Vs. Money, the album which features "Kelly's 12 Play" as its last track, is easily one of the best albums I've heard in 2009. I haven't been obsessing over new releases lately, but the only discs I've heard this calendar year that I've liked as much are Morrissey's pissed yet stately Years Of Refusal and Amadou and Mariam's incredible Welcome To Mali (nerds may quibble that Mali was released in the Old World last year).

The song is a sultry R&B jam about how Dream and his lady enjoy doing the nasty to R. Kelly's much-loved sophomore album 12 Play (the disc features such classily-titled jams as "Freak Dat Booty," "I Like The Crotch On You" and "Sex Me Pts. 1 & 2"). The lyrics are nothing special--the rote loverman persona The-Dream adopts is the most boring thing about his album--but the production buzzes and whirrs magnificently. It sounds sexy and sterile, a thoroughly chopped and screwed affair probably too weird to release as a single. But it's great, and I'm happy to know that the kids are still paying respect to the old masters.

[stream] The-Dream "Kelly's 12 Play"
(I can't find a video or stream of "Unseen Power"; both No Alternative and the much-expanded L.A.'s Desert Origins reissue of Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain contain the track)
***
Earlier in the post, I mention that I already tried to write about No Alternative. I was trying to compare the superior NA to 2009's inferior Dark Was The Night. It came of as rambling, but I would still like to make the following point about the latter compilation, lifted from those ramblings:

Pitchfork, among others, has taken pains to stress that the album represents a survey of indie in 2009. I've been offended because the compilation highlights indie's often boring but very popular folk-pop strain. It also hurts that the tracklisting leaves out nearly ever artist I enjoy and respect in the underground. Still, it's weird that nothing even vaguely resembling punk rock, the music that birthed and has often sustained the underground, makes an appearance. That Beach House (covering Queen!), were relegated to the digital-only version of the album is another slap in the face.