Apr 06
YEEARRRRGHHHH!!!
Hmm. Trying to emulate Beck’s opening scream in “Lord Only Knows” doesn’t seem to translate too well in the written form. However, the sound is exactly what I need to describe the current state of music, as well as the convulsions that my stomach was going through following an Indian buffet feast Sunday evening.
The music-buffet analogy works on a variety of levels. Entering a dining hall with rows upon rows of steaming dishes, salivating at the thought of sampling the roast beef, the beef vindaloo or the chicken parmesan, is akin to walking into the nearest HMV/Music World/”insert-record-store-here,” on a Tuesday, eager to select from the multitude of albums: your favourite beats, tunes and riffs.
Behold, the roast beef is placed upon a separate carving board, with inviting heating lamps strategically placed to reflect the right amounts of grease and juices oozing from the block of meat. Examine the cardboard cutout of Britney Spears, immortalizing some provocative pose, enticing you with a look that says “Come hither and buy my album.”
(I’m not equating beef to Britney; perhaps in a future post.)
Unfortunately, this is where the analogy stops, as the buffet challenges us to explore new tastes and expand our palates, while the music industry has left its audience “musically castrated.” Much like the culinary dolt who sticks to his boring serving of meat-and-potatoes, the music industry has force-fed processed tripe down our ears. Latching on to each new fad as if its life depended on it (and in some cases it does), labels are delivering countless variations of Britney, The Strokes and Korn to our deaf ears. The incessant need of the blind audience to be satisfied with the familiar has driven the industry to continue generating carbon copies of past acts.
We have got to break free from producing the same garbage, staying within the categories imposed upon us by the music industry. Theodor Adorno said “He who integrates is lost.”
When faced with choices, stand firm and make a decision.
Apr 03
Being a part of the audience at the downstairs concert hall of the Middle East club last night, I had a tangible sense that I was witnessing something unusually progressed. The NYC art-rock scene seems to have delivered its latest flourish of genius and it goes by the name of Stellastarr*.
Probably the most distinguishing characteristic of the show was the utterly cathartic audience response. A crowd of about 500 was able to generate arena-sized energy and the band rose to the occasion. While this can partially be credited to the city of Cambridge and its demographic cross-section, it’s the members of Stellastarr* and their prodigious talent that made it happen.
The vocal styles ranged from anthemic to bubbly to shrieky and the contrast between the male lead vocalist’s chaotic delivery was complemented well by the female bassist’s smoother backups. The interplay of the two guitars was also worthy of mention. The mostly uptempo overdriven rhythm sounds were exquisitely tempered by ambient delay-infused melodies. Manic drumming gave way to subtle percussive fills. Few bands are able to accomplish this kind of balance.
Lyrically, they’re art school kids and it shows: cryptic but fun. In ‘In the Walls’, the opening tune of the night, Christensen crooned “The falling chains and falling lies make pretend you’re mine.” Could someone please explain? In the chorus of ‘Pulp Song’ on the other hand, he poignantly asserts, “We’re lying, we’ve lied to you, we’ve lied to make our point of view.”
The greatest strength of these musicians, however, is their ability to effectively modulate the level of energy within their songs. The transition from quiet introspection to a disco-era frenzied climax in ‘My Coco’ had the crowd bouncing, literally.
By combining their individual talents, Stellastarr* create a picturesque soundscape that is uniquely their own.
Apr 03
So I’m sitting at my computer with an empty bottle of Wolf Blass 2001 Shiraz from South Australia, contemplating this task before me. Earlier on my “commute” (a 20 minute streetcar/subway ride) from work today, I came to the conclusion that my first post would focus on the concept of indecisiveness. As Prashant wrote, this idea had indeed been brewing for quite some time. I remember the exact time when this idea first exposed itself. Prashant and I were enjoying one of many pints at McKibbons in Montreal one February weekend. Even so, after countless discussions (online and in Real Life), arguments and drunken ramblings, we have decided that a Blog would be an ideal start, for wherever this endeavor will take us.
Yes, I will attempt a “deconstructionist analysis.” I use quotation marks because (I will freely admit) don’t exactly know the complete meaning of “deconstruction.” I will however examine this title that we have decided upon.
Uncluttered: To be free of clutter – clutter (as propounded by William Zinsser in “On Writing Well”):
“Clutter is the ponderous euphemism that turns a slum into a depressed socioeconomic area, a salesman into a marketing representative and garbage collectors into waste disposal personnel.”
(You may have noticed that I have incorporated various quotes in this first post. I blame it on my History training in university.)
Advocating: advocate – vt. To plead in favor of.
Evolved: developed, grown, progressed, advanced. It signifies change, from recognized historicity to (to borrow a Prashant word) “contemporary” ideas.
Thought.
My colleague has said that we might meander. I would rather argue that this blog (which I guarantee will NOT become a tool for us to pour our emotions onto our readers) is a journey. Meandering connotates an image of being lost, wandering. I say that every step contributes to our (and hopefully, your) understanding of what we are attempting here.
Aerosmith said “Life’s a journey, not a destination.”
I invite criticism and compliments from our readers-to-be.
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