Finally, a Post!

The New Pornographers: Challengers
80

The New Pornographers are one of those bands that makes me irrefutably happy. I’m not sure if it’s Ms. Case’s voice, Dan Bejar’s eccentricities, or A.C Newman’s deft songwriting. All I know is that when together, this band makes incredible music. However, it’s always been somewhat in the same vein. Over the course of three albums, the New Pornographers only enjoyed minor changes. The transition from Mass Romantic to The Electric Version consisted mainly of better production and tightened songwriting. Twin Cinema was a more commercial and disjointed effort. However, with Challengers, everything has changed. Gone are the boisterous rockers like “All For Swinging You Around,” or “Use It.” In their place, we have slow-paced, atmospheric tunes like “Challengers,” and “Unguided,” songs that focus upon beauty to win your heart, as opposed to the toe-tapping infection that was the calling card of many prior Pornographer singles. Bejar’s contributions, including the immaculate “Myriad Harbor,” seem less like songs he wrote for the New Pornographers and more like Destroyer songs that Newman was incredibly fond of.

Challengers, nonetheless, is much more cohesive than previous releases, though this isn’t saying much considering the eclectic nature of the Pornographers. It’s main problem lies not in a lack of creativity, talent, or technical skill. Neko’s voice is still brilliant, Bejar’s lyrics are still vaguely intriguing, and Newman still writes pop songs with the best of them. It’s just that the album almost seems to lack charm. “All the Old Showstoppers,” tries to have a different country vibe, but just becomes lost between “My Rights Versus Yours,” and “Myriad Harbor.” “All the Things that go Make Heaven and Earth,” retains the old energy of past albums, but it just seems like it was tossed in to show Old Pornographers that the band hasn’t lost its spark. “Failsafe,” has a guitar intro that’s so reminiscent of “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” that it makes me hope that Newman knows as little about Green Day as he did about Phoenix University.

It’s the album that we knew to expect the unexpected from, Newman has been warning us about a new direction for quite some time. But the question remains, is it all a change for the better? My vote goes for no. Even though Challengers is a good album, it’s not a great album, and my admiration for the band and its individual members clouds my ability to judge this album upon its own merits. If anything, I should have seen it coming. Newman’s been carrying the band for years, and his solo album was spectacular. Neko’s last release was immaculate, but she’s never really contributed more than her voice to the New Pornographers. Bejar’s with the band in spirit, and he tosses his songs over, and they fit well, but only because the band has swung in his direction, not because he wrote the songs for the band. I was disappointed with Challengers, but it’s an album that stays true to its title. It’s a challenge for established fans to listen to. Honestly, Bejar offers the best lyrics and the best songs, and the album serves to bolster my opinion of him as a musical genius. As for Newman, it’s a job well done, with splendid production (strings and everything!) but the songs just lack that charm that every other New Pornographers release was overflowing with.

Spoon: Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
93

Let me start this by saying that there once was a time when Spoon made me quite irritated. They were the darlings of the indie rock world, after their one-two punch of Kill the Moonlight and Gimmie Fiction, even CNN was hailing them as the saviors of rock and roll. All the while, I was perplexed. Britt Daniel didn’t have an immaculate voice; the songs themselves weren’t mind-blowing, if anything they were just stripped-down samples of greater works.

But now I think I get it. I understand Spoon’s appeal now. After losing all of my music, I scoured the Internet for the latest leaks and releases, and Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga was on the top of my list, because I just had to figure it out. Spoon was a puzzle, an enigma. Just what made them so great? And as it turns out, after giving Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga a fair shake, it’s the simplicity that I once loathed that makes Spoon so great. Track seven, “The Underdog,” has become one of my favorite songs ever. It’s not a sweeping epic, it doesn’t do anything that’s never been done before, it’s just something that’s rarely made these days, a good old-fashioned rock song. Putting it on makes me think of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, bands who tossed off instantly accessible rock with enough wit and charm to win over even the most hardened critics. And it all seems too easy. Every song on the album has a sort of off-the-cuff feel to it, as if it was written in some basement and recorded in a few takes, effortlessly and without the slightest error.

There’s not much to say about this album, over analyzing it betrays the point. It’s an album that encourages sheer delight. I can’t imagine anyone listening to “You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb,” and not being even the least bit pleased. This is music your parents should love. Not because it’s adult contemporary shit, but because it’s timeless. It harkens back to an age where artists were encouraged to explore the musical landscape and were rewarded with both critical accolades and public superstardom. I understand what CNN was talking about so long ago. Spoon is an old-fashioned rock and roll band, a beast that’s become endangered in recent years.

Stars: In Our Bedroom After the War
80

This album’s been getting quite a bit of buzz lately, both for its interesting pre-release and for it’s supposed quality. After Set Yourself on Fire, an album that shocked me, that came out the blue and shouted, “There Canadian bands other than the New Pornographers!” It was a touching, well-crafted album focused around sacrifice and love, two topics that often can lead artists to fall flat on their faces when they approach them earnestly (the most successful of them doing so with one hand full of pure emotion and another filled with bitter humor, a balance that Morrissey pulled off skillfully in his glory days).

And boy do those Stars ever shine with heartbreak and sorrow, though the angst is a bit toned down this time. Songs like “Personal,” a nearly spoken-word conversation between Torquil Campbell and Amy Millan are filled with melodrama, yet they’re somehow effective, despite their heavy-handed nature. However, that isn’t to say that this is an album that doesn’t have ridiculous mis-steps. "The Ghost of Genova Heights," is one of those songs that raises alarms in my head, that makes me wonder just why it was included on the album. The disco-laden chorus just makes me cry, and not in the same artsy way that I know Stars wants me to. Somewhere, Prince is wondering why when he influences people, it never works out well. Also, "Barricade," is just an example of a vocalist trying to overextend his own talents, as Campbell does. However, there are gems on this album, and when it succeeds, it does so marvelously. "Take Me to the Riot," is a song that somehow mixes Interpol (I say Interpol instead of Joy Division because Joy Division is criminally overrated, despite their influence), the Kaiser Chiefs, and classic Stars and the result is a joyous sing-along that’s immediately followed by the poppy "My Favorite Book," a song with a chorus so undeniably sultry and catchy that it makes you wonder why no one had written it before.

So does the album live up to all of the hype? I’d say it does…the first impression isn’t nearly as strong as Light Yourself on Fire’s was, even though they both share the same “epic first track with creepy recorded voice,” theme. Over time, I think my opinion of this album will improve, but it still stands as a well-produced and emotionally charged piece of work from a band that should be on everybody’s radar.