Golden Jukebox: Life is Long by David Byrne & Brian Eno

This is my first Golden Jukebox entry. Think of it as a playlist of nothing but my favorite songs. Here you'll find exactly what you'd expect: the song and why it means so much to me. I chose thing one in particular to create a contrast with my entry the other day. Where Murder Ballads is a dark, sorrowful record, Life is Long is about as uplifting as music gets.

If you intend to read this blog with any sort of regularity, you are going to hear a lot about David Byrne. Whether it's his work in the Talking Heads, his solo material or collaborations with any one of the numerous artists he's recorded with over the years, the man has proven himself to be a genius time and time again. Speaking in terms of personal tastes, he's my favorite artist still recording today, and there is very little of his material that I don't cherish in one way or another.

Back in August of 2008, he recorded the album Everything that Happens will Happen Today with composer Brian Eno (There second collaboration, after 1981's My Life in a Bush of Ghosts). At the time, Byrne lived in America and his hand was very much on its pulse. Ongoing wars, a divisive election, a looming economic meltdown (which would come to its head mere weeks after the album's release) and a general dissatisfaction with the state of affairs is what he saw. In response, he and Eno set out to write what they like to describe as an "electronic gospel" record. They meant to deliver a hopeful, uplifting record for the troubled times.

And did they ever.

Everything That Happens Will Happen Today is a beautiful record that touts the healing that people can find in one another. And although it's not the title track, Life is Long embodies the spirit of the album more than any other. The opening lines, in particular, sum it up best.

"Everybody says that the living is easy
I can barely see, 'cause my head's in the way
Tigers walk behind me
They are to remind me
That I'm lost, but I'm not afraid"

In itself, the opening of the song is a brilliant statement of hope. It's too often true that the one thing keeping us from happiness is the meddling of our own minds. And even though the way forward might not be clear, the right frame of mind can allow us to face it bravely and content ourselves with our blessings. The "chains and bars" that Byrne sings of are the worldly obstacles that life places in our paths, but in spite of them, freedom can remain in heart if one chooses simply to share life with others. Toward the end of the track, during one of the "refrains", Byrne describes the ability to say "those three little words" as being enough to hold back the troubled water around him. The theme (essentially love conquers all) is hardly a new one, but it's stated in a more elegant, honest way than many have been able to. Love in others isn't simply all you need, as the Beatles might have you believe, but it is enough to sustain one's personal wellness. It's enough to lengthen and strengthen life beyond what it can appear at face value. And it can certainly help ward off the dread that can seep in when the world throws its inevitable curve-balls.

 It's a comforting message, and Byrne's vocals sell it beautifully. Never in his career has he sounded better, or more earnest than he does in this song. Typically known for being flat, pitched and minimalist (particularly in his performances with the Talking Heads), he really opens up on this record to pour his heart out. It lends an emotional reverence to this song in particular, and helps drive home the meaning of his words. I believe that  he's dreaming a world, because he sounds so passionate about it. I believe that he's still free because of the elation in his voice. Byrne isn't given enough credit for his vocal range, and while this is not a traditional gospel recording by any means, he delivers it with all the enthusiasm of a reverend singing with his flock.

Of course, the lyrics and vocals are doing half of the work in this song. Backing them up is Brian Eno's brilliant composition. As is typical Eno, it's occasionally difficult to discern exactly what instrument you're hearing at any given time. But despite the obfuscation of sounds, they all come together in an uplifting, ethereal cacophony. This is big, harmonic, powerful cathedral-style gospel music with a modern twist that only a mind like Eno could have concocted. The way he layers Byrne's vocals on the refrain creates an almost choral echo that compliments the lyrics' message of the power in human oneness.

I often (lovingly) joke that David Byrne is a space alien. In much of his body of work, he seems almost like a fascinated outsider looking in at the curious interactions that man-things have with one another. But in this song, he displays an understanding of love's power to lift us above life's hurdles that can only, truly be expressed by someone who's experienced it for himself. The world is hard on us sometimes. Jobs disappear, money grows scarce, people get sick and friends drift away. All of these things have happened to each of us at one point or another, but we keep on going because we know it gets better. And it gets better because, at the end of the day, the best thing people have going for them is that we can connect with other people. We share our lives, grow close and come to depend on one another. Life is Long celebrates that bond we all share, and does it well. That's why it will always be one of my favorites.

Golden Records: Murder Ballads by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

This will be my first entry of a series. The goal of the Golden Record Collection is to provide my thoughts on some of my all time favorite albums. Think of it as my own personal pantheon. I'll give an overview of the record and talk about a few of my favorite tracks from it.

The first record entering the pantheon is a fairly recent discovery for me (and all my friends know it, because I won't shut up about the thing). 

Album: Murder Ballads

Artist: Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds

Year: 1996

Label: Mute Records

Nick Cave has always had a flair for both the theatrical and the macabre. He's also a fabulous storyteller. So it's no surprise that critics often speak of this album as the one he always wanted to make. Whether or not that's true, I can't say. What I can say is that it is a fantastic record.

As you might be able to guess, this album is a collection of songs detailing one form of murder or another. Some tracks, such as The Curse of Millhaven or O'Malley's Bar detail violent rampages while tracks like Where the Wild Roses Grow are more intimate tales of a single life taken. The total death count on this album is 65, which is impressive, because there are only ten tracks across which that toll is taken. Though all the tracks are macabre, not all of them are morose. Throughout the album's 58 minute run time, there are expressions of mourning, darkness and sexualized violence along with romance, hope and even humor (bloodstained though they are).

 It's obvious that Cave went to great pains to build themes. The beauty of this record is more than just its storytelling. Each song could certainly stand on its own as an interesting poem, but this album's strength is in its use of its own medium. The music backing the lyrics sets the atmosphere just as much (if not more) than the lyrics themselves, and every track has its own, distinctive atmosphere.

It can safely be said that the album's ballads are split into two distinct categories: songs about the killers and songs about the victims. The atmosphere Cave builds for the killers' ballads entirely depends on the gravity with which he chooses to treat their crimes. The opening track, Song of Joy, tells the story of a tortured wanderer, haunted by the murder of his family (that he may or may not have been the perpetrator of). This is driven by a heavy piano lifted straight from a horror film, a pounding drum line and Cave's own deep, sinister voice. They all come together to create a desolate, disquieting ballad that perfectly befits the tale of woe told by the aimless narrator. In a sharp contrast, the next track over is Cave's take on the blues classic Stagger Lee (or Stack O' Lee, if you're really old school). Where Song of Joy in mournful, Stagger Lee features a distorted electric guitar and saloon style piano punctuating Cave's wild, swearing, exaggerated vocals. The song feels almost humorous in its over-the-top delivery and language (I've never heard a song set in 1932 use the word "motherfucker" so liberally). A step further on the path of insanity is The Curse of Millhaven; a ballad about a pretty young girl who just happens to enjoy murdering her fellow townsfolk by the score. The most upbeat track on the album by far, the story of Lottie is seven minutes of swinging, gleeful, distilled madness that is wildly entertaining for all the same reasons that a show like Dexter is.

When Cave turns his focus on the victims of violence, however, he strikes a much more somber and remorseful tone. The Kindness of Strangers, a tragic tale of a young girl's murder at the hands of a travelling companion, employs a classical piano fit for a funeral parlor. With its weeping violin, acoustic guitar and piano, Where the Wild Roses Grow feels like a lift from the death scene of a major movie. Perhaps the most artfully told tale on the album, the song is a duet in which Cave plays an obsessive but charming psycho looking to murder a thing of beauty, and Kylie Minogue sings for the smitten young woman who falls for him, oblivious as to what she's gotten herself into. The switching of perspectives and the contrast between the foreboding and innocence in the singers' respective voices creates a tragedy worthy of a film itself. The fact that it was the most successful single not just from the album, but of the band's entire career speaks volumes about beauty with which it is presented.

The closing track, one of my favorites, is a hopeful medley of the Bob Dylan tune, Death is not the End. Stars are abound as Kylie Minogue, PJ Harvey and Shane MacGowan all join in to add some much needed catharsis to the end of the record. It serves as sort of a gentle reminder of the possibilities that lie beyond death (if you believe in such a thing). It's a comforting notion to throw at the end of an extremely dark record. Nobody even dies in it!

If more people had heard it, I'm sure this would be a highly divisive record. Many who listen to it will find it too disturbing to tolerate. Others might find it hammy and ridiculous. I personally think it's a fascinating use of rock and roll as a literary medium. This albums is a masterpiece in theming, whether you find the package writ large to be revolting or not. That the album feels so cohesive when so many competing emotions and moods are at play is a testament to the care that was put into crafting it. Murder Ballads is not just a collection of songs about death, but a theatrical experience that rivals even the most deliberate rock operas. It's one of the most unique and colorful records I've ever had the pleasure of listening to, and a worthy addition to my collection of must have albums.

Track List

1. "Song of Joy" – 6:47
2. * "Stagger Lee" – 5:15 
3. * "Henry Lee"  – 3:58
4. "Lovely Creature" – 4:13 
5. * "Where the Wild Roses Grow" – 3:57
6. * "The Curse of Millhaven" – 6:55
7. "The Kindness of Strangers" – 4:39
8. "Crow Jane" – 4:14 
9. "O'Malley's Bar" – 14:28
10. * "Death Is Not the End" – 4:26 

* - Track Picks

Re-purposing the Blog

When I initially created this blog two years ago, the goal was to make it almost a journal where I used music to segway into my real life. I never did any posts like that, and there a couple reasons for it. First, it can be whiny as Hell, and I'm just not that person anymore. And probably even more than that, it turns out that writing blog posts like that was too fucking hard anyway. On top of that, when I just try to approach an endeavor like this without some kind of schedule, it simply falls by the wayside.

From here on I'm going to re-purpose this blog. I'm going to make a post about music once every two days (or at least I'll try to). Sometimes, it'll be a post about a song or record I can't live without. Sometimes it'll be a review of an album, or my general thoughts on an artist or genre. I might even start putting my notorious monthly playlists up here. One way or the other, I'm going to start using this regularly, and to simply talk about music rather than try to tailor some custom theme to it.

Album Review: Wheel by Laura Stevenson

I seldom get excited about albums in advance. As much as it pains me to say it, I tend to lag a little behind the times when it comes to new music. This isn't to say that I don't listen to modern music, but I do generally learn about great records after the fact rather than before it.

Now, having said that, I stumbled upon the track above (the third off the album) a while back when catching up on some South by Southwest reviews. From the moment I heard it, I was totally enchanted. After a listen (or dozen) to it and her previous effort, 2011's Sit Resist, she rocketed up my list of anticipated releases. I was very, very enthusiastic about this album. So when it dropped on Spotify, I gave it a listen immediately. Now that I have, I'll share my thoughts.

Where this album is strong, it absolutely shines. Stevenson, above all other things, is an extremely versatile musician capable of spanning several genres and sounds. In songs like Runner, Sink Swim and Elenora, she plays an energetic blend of power-pop and punk. To my thinking, this is her best work on the album. Stevenson has a certain forceful quality in this capacity that is at once relentless and endearing. The power that she injects into these tracks is exhilarating, and lends a gravity to the record's emotional lyrics. Whenever one of these more forceful tracks played, I was struck by the desire I felt to continue the rush.

At the other end of the album's spectrum, Stevenson proved herself more than capable of dialing back the power and noise. In a handful of country and folk inspired tracks, she showcased the softer side of her pallet. The Hole, The Move and the album's opening song, Renee, are all standouts in this vein. There are shades of electric country, bluegrass and coffee shop folk here. Her backup band, the Cans, prove themselves just as capable of these sounds as they do the more rock oriented tracks. But it's Stevenson's voice that really takes center stage here. That's not a bad thing, as her soft voice takes on qualities that bring the words "bubbly" and "ethereal" to mind.

The two sounds stand in stark contrast to one another, and only a few tracks, such as Triangle and Journey to the Center of the Earth seem to bridge the gap. This, in the end, is to Wheel's detriment. Though Stevenson is very capable of filling several roles with her music, her insistence on playing them all on one record leads to disjointed feeling. The louder rock tracks and several of the country inspired ones are noisy, and packed with sound and instrumentation behind Stevenson's vocals. That busy sound is one of the album's strengths, but it also makes songs like Telluride and L-DOPA, which are more or less Stevenson singing over nothing more than an acoustic guitar, seem almost hollow by comparison. Not helping matters is that these weaker tracks are backloaded onto the record, giving it the feel that it's running out of gas as it's going along.

If that sounds like a negative review, I assure that it's not. This is an excellent album from an extremely talented artist. It may be a little jarring at times, but she plays every sound she attempts quite well. Though I feel that its individual parts would have made for better wholes by themselves, Stevenson demonstrates a mastery of both powerful, driving pop rock and subtle, subdued folk and country that many artists of either genre fail to attain. Her lyrical themes of the death and rebirth that comes in the wake of failed romance (Like a Wheel. Get it?) are poignant and well structured.

Her craftsmanship of a full record could use a little work, but Laura Stevenson is definitely an artist I look forward to seeing more of in the future. In four years, she's released three albums and each has demonstrated  a marked improvement over the last. Wheel is no exception. I would not be at all surprised to find Laura Stevenson becoming a veritable queen of the indie music scene over the next five years or so. In spite of its flaws, Wheel is an excellent record from a rising star, and one that I highly recommend.

Track List:
1. Renée
2. Triangle
3. Runner
4. Every Tense
5. Bells & Whistles
6. Sink, Swim
7. The Hole
8. Eleonora
9. The Move
10. Journey to the Center of the Earth
11. Telluride
12. L-DOPA
13. The Wheel