J’s topfive – version three point o

Music is an overwhelming thing. Some, sadly, don’t know this. Others experience it only tangentially, when at concerts, they let go. There are those on the other end of the spectrum, who have chosen music as a path, a practice, and have become so immersed in it, she has turned into routine. And then there’s us, those that live somewhere in the middle, lost between the mere observant and the advanced practitioner. We have an interesting advantage: we listen to each note with the complete and longing attention of someone who’s come across something sacred and doesn’t know when, if ever, he’ll find such beauty again. Arpeggios fill us with nostalgia, tension and dissonance pierce our hearts, drum breaks take us over the edge with energy and abandon, and the right progression can make us love, ache, stand in awe, with bated breath, and get a glimpse of the meaning of life. This may sound exaggerated to many, and all I can say is, I’m sorry that they’ll never know.

It is in that spirit that I bring you tonight’s top five. Numbers 5, 4 and 2 in this issue are part of three amazing rock albums, the kind where all the songs are consistent and consistently good. Actually, picking which song to critique from each of them required some thought, but I encourage you to dive right into the entire work; hands down, it’s worth it.

Coming in at number 5 is Ivoryline’s All you ever hear, from their 2008 debut, There came a lion. These Texans sound incredibly young, fun-loving and a teensy wee bit cocky, with a zesty brand of music that toes the line between rock and pop. In this topfive wonder, as well as in the rest of the album, the vocals hold the role of preponderance, and Jeremy Gray’s are solid and alive. He handles poppy-er elements with mastery – oohs and aahs fitting in there like a glove. Plus, he gets great support from the spot-on backing vocals. The guitars are also quite accomplished: even if there are no solos, there’s a lot of counterpoints and interlocking riffs, that provide for harmonic wealth and freshness as well as ample ground to show off. And, the drums are damn cool. Wes Hart pounds like crazy, in a wild barrage of drumbeats, fast and full breaks, and creative accents that make the song breathe rhythmically. In the verses, he even throws in those disco-y, open-close hi-hat strokes, for good measure, a telltale sign of the outfit’s pop signature. Lyrically, the song touches on political and social commentary, one of the two tracks in the cd that do that. Gray sings, “Your apathy says blame me for this,” and even if the context is light, Ivoryline’s unapologetically jovial sound gives renovated expression to the age old message of wake up and smell the coffee. A little bit breezier than my usual fare, they could border on guilty pleasure, but, in the end, there’s nothing wrong with a little breeze from time to time. A small disclaimer: although they appear cataloged as a Christian rock band in some places, to my relief, only one of the songs in the album makes reference to an openly religious theme.

In the same family of up-and-coming rock acts, Scary Kids Scaring Kids are probably the brooding brother. From their eponymous 2007 sophomore effort (another amazing record), number four is The Deep End, an intense and urgent cry for caution regarding depression. Tyson Stevens’ vocals are powerful and deeply moving, with a tinge of angst and desperation. He controls the vibrato and wields his screams deftly, squeezing them out at the right moments, to exacerbate the tension, emotively enhancing his Gothic lyrics. The guitars sound at times like a modern incarnation of Iron Maiden; just check out the running harmonies on the intro and choruses. They mix seamlessly with the keyboards during the delicate verses, and then get metallic in the interlude right before the second chorus. In the meantime, sitting at the foundation of it all is James Etheridge, hammering the unyielding backbeat that carries the track as if on wild horses. Noteworthy is his footwork on the kick, which fills a lot of the space in between snare hits, further adding to the song’s sturdy basement. This little musicbox ditty, rocks all over the place, with the right balance of brawn and softness, of sadness and anger, proper of a Byronic Hero.

Now, sometimes, something divine brings two artists together, and us mortals get to marvel over marvels. Such a hand surely brought Robert Fripp, ground-breaking guitarist in the legendary prog band King Crimson, to collaborate, record and tour with gifted singer songwriter David Sylvian. The result is a meteor shower: although short-lived (they only recorded a full-length studio cd, and a shorter, live album) it is made with stuff of heaven. Today’s number three, and odd-one-out, is just that, a little slice of heaven. The title track of 1994 Damage, she runs at four and a half minutes, and is a gorgeous little keyboard, stick and guitar poem: all subtlety. Sylvian’s vibrant, deep baritone slips, velvet, through melancholy lyrics that are just as stirring as the melody. Its enigmatic nature is mirrored by the short soloing runs of Trey Gunn’s Chapman stick, and the insinuated overtones of Fripp’s guitar. The rest of their collaboration certainly is a gala of virtuosity and atmosphere, but on Damage, everything is whispered, barely audible to the ear, maybe, but the heart hears it all, loud and clear.

The Australian band Karnivool falls somewhere between Tool and System of a Down: not as serious or psychedelic as Maynard and co., and certainly not as spastic as the Armenian quartet from L.A., these five guys out of Perth, Down Under, bring their own brand of complexity that juxtaposes time signatures and establishes mouth-watering polyrhythms in the intertwining parts that combine the different instruments. In 2005, they released their remarkable full-length debut Themata, where they work wonders within the song format; so much so, I had the hardest time deciding which song to feature. You see, although, as a band, all its members bring key elements to the mix, the driving essence behind Karnivool is the amazing rhythmic interaction between the drums and guitars, and really, there are two songs that showcase their tight relationship fully. Hence, I decided to comment on both. My favorite track in the cd, and initial gut reaction for number two this issue, is Cote. It was the first song to catch my ear: it surprised me, and I love it when that happens. What did it, initially, were the drums. Get through the intro, which is polyrhythm sparked by a constant drumbeat and lopsided guitar strums against it, and you reach the first verse: wait a minute, did I hear that right? There is a peculiar beat at work here. Steve Judd’s drumming may not be as flashy as some of the other skinmen in this topfive selection –if by “flashy” we mean a lot of fast-paced breaks and stuff– but he creates an intricate rhythmic universe for the track to develop, showing off his “limb independence,” as he effortlessly colors through the structure (a measure of 8, two of 7, and another one of 8). The strings deserve a special note here as they add a varied assortment sound-textures: there are sweet, delay-infused butterfly swarms that show up unexpected, and the bassline in the verse, up on the higher register, is also delicate and poignant.

So, if Cote highlights Judd’s chops, with its odd and challenging changes, Shutterspeed puts the guitars in the forefront. Much more straightforward in terms of time –a solid 6/8 throughout – it is again what they do within the beat that is so inspiring: they break it up, spin in out, and bring it right back. Andrew Goddard, lead guitarist and composer, wrote all the tracks on the cd, and his work on this ditty is hard to miss. The main riff is just impeccable, with accents in unexpected places, gyrating at its own pace, over that steady 6. It is four lines (4 bars each), all related, but all with their tasty variations, complex and yet gracefully flowing in their staccato, a little hail storm of sorts. Thrown against Judd’s inflections, the composition comes to life, a fantastic vehicle for Ian Kenny’s soaring vocals (just like Cote), which are the right balance of energy and lament. Two key moments: the guitar solo, short and sweet, is unusual and ingenious; and, coming in at minute 2:50, Kenny’s capitalizing vocal line, which runs consistent with the song’s six-beat, just sums it all up, and brings the song to a spectacular denouement: driving, precise and passionate.

It really seems like there was a lot of questioning around tonight’s selection: another thing I was hesitant about was today’s number one; so, I decided to go jogging. I keep my music on shuffle so that my player can surprise me as I trot along dirt roads and pavement. Albums I’ve only recently acquired thus get mixed in with the older stuff in my library, and I slowly become familiar with new music. Well, one of these new albums (to me at least) is Omar Rodríguez-López’s latest solo effort, Calibration (2008) –for those of you unaware, Rodríguez is the guitar-shredder and overall mastermind in The Mars Volta. To be honest, I haven’t yet given myself the chance to dive full-on into it. In my defense, albums like his require extra time and attention, of which I’ve had short supply lately; plus, I kinda enjoy letting the universe show me the way. So, as I ran, my player belted out Las Lagrimas de Arakuine, the cd’s closing masterpiece, and I was hypnotized, mesmerized: “this is number one.” The track’s skeleton is quite simple, really – 4 bars of 6/8, 4 chords, actually 3, as the first one repeats itself on the second bar – and yet, it goes on for over eleven minutes. The thing is, this instrumental is the quintessential example of a sonic landscape: guitars, bass, violins and a plethora of electronic cracks and chirps, bells and whistles, mingle and dance in and out of each other, like rock and roll animals in a sound garden of hills, groves, copses and valleys. There are rivers in there, raindrops and, even dolphins and whales that emerge from the depths. And in the midst of this lushness, the most notorious aspect is that Rodríguez-López gives the drums the role of lead storyteller, with complete freedom, and what Thomas Pridgen does is nothing short of spectacular. To call it virtuosity is an understatement. The guy just throws everything in the book onto the track; an eleven-minute drum solo is what it is: meticulous, incredibly tasteful and full of resources. Just a little example: there is fierce yet elastic accuracy in the interplay between kickdrum and snare, as they slice the beat up in complex little rhythms – anyone who has ever sat at the set knows that’s no small feat. The rest of the band flows throughout, painting the landscape, as the Lagrimas… breathes, builds up, and releases – in fact, there are other solos in there: there is a yummy fretless bass in the mix, soaring just above the basic bassline still humming in the background, and there’s also the endless flow of Omar’s guitar, although kept down a constantly changing series of textures, as he goes through his extensive array of effects pedals. However, those solos are buried under Pridgen’s pounding flurries, creating only passages and accents in the sonic canvas. The track has a “head,” a repeating motif, and it is a gorgeous, sweeping phrase of interlinking lines by guitars, violins and keyboards, that shows up unexpected, almost out of the blue, every so often, as the piece develops. The theme gets a little more complex and longer each time, as it incorporates more instruments, and by the third and last time around, as the drums fade away into silence, the strings finally get the spotlight, if only for a couple of seconds, before they too dissolve into the chord progression for one last go-around. It’s a magnificent pool to dive into: a trance, which is a recurring concept in Rodríguez-López’s music.

Thanks again, for visiting, and taking the time to read. As usual, I hope you enjoy it. I want to thank my brother, “Dano, El Capitano” Kuehn, for the musical nourishment he periodically bestows upon me. Motivated? Write a comment, suggest new music.

J’s topfive – day #2

Today’s selection could be dubbed Exercises in subtlety, except for maybe the odd one out. It slowly did turn into that though, quite on its own, a current I decided to ride out. Today’s harvest is also leaning towards the past a little bit; again, a bit unexpected, but if so, so what. Today’s is another eclectic collection of music, from 80’s thoughtful pop, to rock, to disco and back again, all with some tasty bass performances. Other than the criteria I proposed at the beginning of my first list, there really is no motivation or formula to my choices than the desire to bring them to your attention. These are songs that are currently on my playlists and that I enjoy deeply. Perchance you will too (if there’s a “you” out there).

Ok, let’s get right to it
Number 5 is a timeless little artifact. From 1980’s Never for Ever, Kate Bush’s Egypt is a haunting piece, that breathes mystery, and conjures visions of pyramids and rituals, smells of howling desert winds. Kate soars through her exquisitely high register, combining her melody seamlessly with captivating counterpoints by the backing vocals. In rhythmic terms, she switches with mastery between 4 and 7 as the track swells and ebbs. Every time she hits that 7 – especially the last time around, which arrives after a climactic crescendo – the music becomes bewitching, in an enigmatic interplay between the soloing keyboard (or is it a guitar, I wonder) – featuring a sound I don’t feel dated at all, something hard to find in most 80’s music – the bass – mixed satisfyingly in the foreground, and powerfully leading the rest of band – and tasteful drums, that accentuate the song, bringing about a dramatic ending. And, almost as if affirming the song’s evocative essence, metallic chimes and bells, hidden in the background, add depth to the textures. This song has been with me for years, disappearing only to get unearthed time and again, organically mirroring its theme, ecstatic, gorgeous and edgy.

Number four is a bass-guitar orgasm, plain and simple. Jamiroquai’s Don’t Give Hate a Chance, a cut from Dynamite (2005), is a real scorcher. To actually listen to it, first you have to resist the urge to just give in to the infectious groove and boogie down. Somehow, the challenge becomes to hold that energy, while at the same time becoming absorbed in the music. The trick for me is to let it invade from the feet up, but then anchor it in the ears; like in meditation, go back to the sound. It’s no secret that Jay Kay and company have been driving a disco revival since the early 90’s. In their arsenal of compositions, there are ample examples of accomplished rhythm and string sections, the right dose of electronica and the inspired exchanges between his vocals and the de rigueur female backup singers. This tune, however, just adds everything up oh so nicely. Great melody, meaningful lyrics, and at the center of everything is Derrick McIntyre’s amazingly complex, fast-paced and precise bass playing. He leads the verses with a very funky root-fifth back-and-forth, in ascending lines that are every bit as creative as they are hip; he resolves into the chorus, switching to a much rockier riff, while at the same time adding a little distortion to the sound, taking everything into overdrive. Later, toward to the end, when the rest of the instruments fall away a bit, letting the vocals and the bass play off each other, oh my god the licks he pulls out: just out of this world. Pure solid gold, I tell ya.

Following with today’s bass fixation, the next ditty features another memorable performance from the low end of the auditory spectrum. From Ben Harper’s Burn to Shine (1999), this issue’s number three is Alone. On this down-tempo, melancholy track, Harper does a wonderful job of transmitting angst in sedate, temperate way, imprinting the song with a clear message of slow burning sadness that courts but never quite becomes all-out desperation. In the tradition of Miles Davis, who knew exactly which notes to play on his horn, distilling the art of soulful sparseness, Ben’s solo, dished out through the ebow-magnetized strings of his guitar, is really an ode to tastefulness, a magnificent passage that beautifully enriches the melodic aspect of the tune, mirroring the sober, tender pain of his vocals. And, boy oh boy, the quality of Juan Nelson’s bassline is truly something: neither flashy nor flamboyant, it is clean, accurate and with just the right dash of complexity, to make a subtle statement of just impeccable elegance. This sonic painting is brought to completion by carefully chosen percussion: a triangle at the right moment, a splash that is like a soft brushstroke, a polyrhythmic hihat driving the song straight through. Sometimes things just come together; this is a brilliant example of just that kind of perfection.

Number 2 this time around, comes from a unknown band that had a short life and no real hits, I don’t think. An outfit out of Salt Lake City, of all places, Acroma’s Don’t Think Just Move was featured in the band’s 2003 debut Orbitals. This song stands pretty much alone in an album that is more grunge than anything else. It is a lovely tool-esque ditty, a piece that rises and falls with great artistry. Beginning delicately with a clear ride-and-rim-shot groove on the drums and a sweet bassline, the guitar slowly starts developing, first with the ebow, and then the pick, heavy on the delay, letting it breathe and evolve. The voice is also soft and tasty, taking its time to rise through the tune, along with the rest of the band, in a wave that progressively gathers strength, getting bigger and bigger, until it finally delivers us into an orgy of cymbals, a slight yet powerful storm in their sonic ocean. Buried in the mix are enticing keyboard lines that have a vaguely vocal quality, giving the whole landscape an hypnotic, magical aura. With the stoner vibe of The Door’s The End, the message of Don’t think just move is about letting go into an unhurried trance, eyes closed, body swaying in movements generated from one’s center.

Number one today was hard to pick. I had to think about it, mainly because, with the exception of Jamiroquai’s disco anthem, the rest of the tunes this time around – quite organically – have a certain subdued character, delivering their messages with a kind of assertive restraint, each taking their time to evolve into blooming sound landscapes that are never an all-out assault. I wanted number one, today, not only to be consistent with this essence, but to be a uniquely skillful expression thereof, and it finally came to me. In The Noose (Thirteenth Step, 2003) A Perfect Circle have created a near-perfect example of graceful collective collaboration. Music that is movingly beautiful mixes with the amazing poetry of singer/lyricist Maynard James Keenan, a hymn to personal responsibility and accountability for this new millennium. It begins almost like a whisper, sparse liquid drums slowly blending in with an electronic pulse, and Maynard’s soft and elegant voice. Slowly, effortlessly, the tune begins to build, soft parts flowing in and out of each other. Delay-tinged guitar parts come in to lay down delicate layers, progressively adding to the song’s thickness, until the drums solidify, Josh Freese’s technical nuances front and center. Only at the end of the song do we arrive at its full power. Distorted guitars are finally unleashed, backing vocals become a harmonic tapestry of calls and responses, drums are pounded, transforming the experience into a vibrant sonic collage that coalesces for only one of the tune’s near five minutes. Then, everything drops in an instant, leaving only the voice and a solitary, chorus-effected guitar, to close it all off, almost as mere witnesses. Did I really hear a song just now? A mirage, a soft suggestion, surely a figment of my imagination, only a dream, this was. Yet I am awake, delivered, and with the vague sense that a religious-like experience just happened.

Comments. Musical suggestions. Always welcome. Until next time, thanks for reading.

J’s topfive – day one

So, up until today the totality of the content in this blog was poetry, but I feel the time has come to diversify my rantings into broader fare, if only for purely self-indulging motivations. Therefore, and as an attempt to share the joy, I have decided to post a short, periodical list of worthwhile musique for all ye who would/might care. Since this is the first time I do this, I should explain a couple of things. First, I don’t ascribe to any one particular music genre; although readers will find that I am partial to loud, sometimes obnoxious rock variations, these entries will feature tunes from a varied, eclectic, yet fiercely personal selection. Those that happen upon these postings are more than welcome to comment, and more importantly, make musical suggestions. I love checking new tunes from all corners of the globe.

Second, the criteria I use to pick the lucky selections are as follows:
1. lyrical – since I tout myself as a writer, at the top of my list are songs that have what I deem “good lyrics.” This means that they feel original, well-crafted and thoughtful, including the grim, good-natured, humorous and so on.
2. atmospheric – it “feels” good, whatever that may be at the time. I tend to look for originality here too, although I may tend to be repetitive – a bit paradoxical, I know, but excuse me if that happens. For the more technical-minds, that may mean modal compositions, odd time signatures, creative instrumentation, dissonance and tension, artistic mixing, etc.
3. virtuosity – ’nuff said there, right?
4. all of the above – sometimes things just come together.
…And last but not least,
5. guilty pleasures – c’mon, everyone has their own little skeletons in the closet. Judge not and ye shall not be judged.

Ok, so without further ado, this submission’s Top Five are:

5. Afro Blue – Lizz Wright (from Salt – 2003). Jazzy stylings I dedicate to a friend with whom I wanted to share this song for a while. To be perfectly honest, I find that jazz has a tendency to repeat itself. Yes, the players can play, but swing?, dominant chords?; aesthetically it bores me a bit. There. I’ve said it. Sorry to all o y’all I’ve offended. However, there are times when I come across something that I find to be a welcome departure, and this is one of them, which I choose mostly for its mysteriously suggestive vibe. In terms of instrumentation, it is based mostly on a typical acousticg guitar-piano-stand up bass-drums-singer quintet format, but add to it some cool afro/latin percussion, and some horn accents, and a little gem is born. Did I get corny there? I could put this one on repeat for a day or too and still be grooving, what can I say?

4. Still on the jazz tip, we have Oh God by Jamie Cullum (Catching Tales – 2005). I can’t give him props for originality here – this sounds like he got Take Five by Dave Brubeck and put lyrics to it. However, the result is quite artistic and satisfying. I find myself singing backups to the chorus. It’s another one I could put on repeat, and just jam. As a little additional entry here, check Catch the Sun from the same album: a beauty.

3. Let’s go to Africa, yes? Camions Sauvages by Amadou et Mariam (Dimanche a Bamako – 2005) features in at number three. This is a sweet collaboration between the blind couple from Mali and famous Spanish/French singer-songwriter Manu Chao, who, BTW, produced the record. So we’re talking Africa meets South America meets Europe. This particular ditty is in French, so I can’t comment about the lyrical artistry, but it’s one of those where the music builds in layer after layer over a constant chord structure, in typical African fashion. I can say the title means Savage Trucks, and I can feel the grit of the dirt roads, as they get the motor running, get out on the highway, and cruise at a fast steady pace on remote routes cutting through the savannah, each new part, a new face in the blur of the landscape – unbelievable snap shots of the savage heart of L’Afrique.

2. For the last two, we move into my area of expertise, my love, my passion, my inescapable compulsion: rock music. For this first-ever number two (hahaha, very funny), I turn to one of my present favorite artists. I’ve always dug his shit, pardon my directness. What I find particularly special is the evolution he’s had over the years: he has progressed in exactly the way I’d hoped for. More than an evolution, it has been a polishing, a tasteful development – a weird moment to be in, though. I had a similar sensation the first time I heard Stadium Arcadium by Red Hot Chili Peppers, this thought that they had somehow come into their own. But at the same time, somehow, that cd made a very light and ephemeral impact on me that maybe lasted for a week. That hasn’t happened to me with this guy, though, and I am curious about what will come next. I’m referring to Trent Reznor and Nine Inch Nails. From their (his) CD Year Zero (2007), I’d like to highlight The Good Soldier. It somehow underlines this evolutionary process I sense in Reznor’s work – one I think really began solidifying on With Teeth (2005) and has progress into 2008’s The Slip. All the NIN elements are there, but they are combined in the right measure. Nothing is missing and nothing is overdone… The atmospheric work is flawless: every part flows to and from each other in a delicately subtle sonic statement. The lead guitar lick at the end is just so spot on: truly tasteful, each note is the perfect one, at the right time and the right timbre. Plus, the lyrics are – although not the most memorable ones he’s written – also right on: an ironic/authentic commentary on the war on Iraq and the religious/hegemonic rhetoric behind it. Fuckin A!

1. Ok – and so we arrive at this entry’s number one: drum-roll please. The honor falls to Forever Can Be by Ashes Divide. It really is one of my faves from the past months. Following his inspired work as composer and guitarist for A Perfect Circle, Billy Howerdel outdoes himself with this ditty off the band’s debut CD (Keep Telling Myself It’s Alright – 2008). Like in APC, the production work is just outstanding – an orgasmic combination of simple yet enormously rich guitar work. The virtuosity comes in the combination of non-pretentious counterparts that fill the space of the song in a flowing mid-tempo that creates a crisply engulfing landscape for some of his best vocal work yet. The lead melody is just beautiful – what can I say folks? – and the lyrics, melancholy and assertive in a delicate way, seem to let you in slowly and then just grab hold. For further gems on this record, check Denial Waits and Enemies.

And so concludes this, my first entry in this kind of format. Like with all the others, I welcome comments: go crazy and put in your two cents, but mostly, I reiterate my invitation to open up the forum to new music – I will positively appreciate whatever new ditty you can contribute.

Stay tuned for the next one.

Welcome

Hey, everyone.

Beginning today, I am starting Music Poetic as an off-shoot to my one-year-old Poetrical Musings, to house my music writing, critique and reviews.  Poetrical Musings (conveniently accessed via the sidebar on your right) started as a repository for my poetry, and organically, diversified into prose pieces on different issues.  In that context, a short while ago, I started committing my thoughts on music to virtual paper, as it were, with the objective of sharing tunes with my friends, but also, as a way to combine my two passions: music and writing.  Being both a musician and a poet, you can expect to find in these words technical and evocative tidbits about the songs currently on my playlists.  Although I am mostly partial to heavy rock music, I’ll take you all over the place;  hopefully, you’ll come along for the ride.  Your feedback, in the form of comments and music suggestions, is highly appreciated, so don’t be shy.

So, from now on, feel free to check back when ever you like.  Also, visit PM as well, as I post there often.  Thanks for your time and attention.

Blessings

J.Miranda

ps:  The first three postings are the reviews that have already appeared on PM.