Rio is considered Duran Duran’s magnum opus, and now that I’ve finally heard it for myself, I wholeheartedly agree. The album is a near-perfect transition from the band’s New Romantic bona fides to the full-on new wave hedonism that was taking hold. When fanatics of this period (read: me) say the 1980s was a great decade for music, we’re talking about shit like this.
Out of the many, many acts that cropped up during this time, Duran Duran probably had one of the more polished approaches to the sound, and their sharp looks and stylish visuals helped them rise to the top of MTV rotation. As is evident throughout Rio, vocalist Simon Le Bon’s confident yelp is paramount to Duran Duran’s distinction from their peers, as are Andy Taylor’s riffs.
But for my money, the backbone of the band is John Taylor’s workmanlike approach. The title track in particular reinforces this, as Rio dances across the Rio Grande to boisterous bass lines, alongside sprinting synths from Nick Rhodes and a sexy sax solo from session player Andy Hamilton. The band knows their way around a hook and an infectious dance beat, as is the case on lead single “My Own Way,” featuring shuffling percussion courtesy of Roger Taylor. (None of the Taylors are related, which is an interesting thing about Duran Duran that doesn’t get talked about nearly enough.)
Then there’s the immortal “Hungry Like the Wolf,” an eternal jam primarily because of that “doo doo doo” hook that carries the verses to infectious heights. The vibe is similar throughout; even deep cuts like “Hold Back the Rain” and “New Religion” are irresistibly danceable jams.
The album is a bit front-loaded, but Side 2 is hardly skippable. The party slows down and draws to a close with the more subdued “Save a Prayer” and “The Chauffeur.” Initially I was disappointed by this change of pace, but these final songs actually function well and mix things up, keeping the listener fairly engaged over nine tracks. What is consistent, however, is the energy; it’s clear the band is having fun, which only adds to the staying power of this classic album. It sounds like 1982, no question, but that’s hardly anything to complain about.
Emo bands usually wear their hearts on their sleeves, but the guys in Anxious leave room for their influences as well. You can clearly hear traces of their fellow Connecticut elder statesmen The World Is a Beautiful Place and I Am No Longer Afraid To Die. There’s also still a hint of their earlier inspirations, like post-hardcore stalwarts Texas Is the Reason. But when I listen to Little Green House, the quintet’s debut for Run For Cover, I keep thinking about a band they have never mentioned in interviews: Jimmy Eat World.
Maybe that’s because, with the pandemic forcing them to cancel their touring plans, Anxious holed up in the basement of vocalist Grady Allen’s mom’s basement to immaculately transform these ten songs into indie punk brilliance. (The basement is located in a little green house, thus the name, and emo-centric artwork, of the album.) These tracks come just in the nick of time, as bands like Turnstile and Vein.FM have turned heads toward an anticipated gold rush of post-hardcore sounds; it certainly doesn’t hurt that TikTokers have embraced a pop-punk revival and brought loud (albeit more processed) guitars back into the zeitgeist.
Little Green House is packed with razor-sharp melodies, in-the-pocket percussion, and seemingly endless layers of hooks. At just over a half hour, without a second wasted, the band try their hand at a number of styles, like modern punk (“Growing Up Song”), power pop (“More Than a Letter”), acoustic pop (“Wayne”), Midwest emo (“Afternoon”), and the aforementioned post-hardcore (opener “Your One Way Street”).
The band may not be shooting for anything other than recognition in their devoted underground, but crunchy riffs on “Speechless” (with vocals that will remind listeners of raw Nirvana demos), and a Cranberries-esque star turn from guest vocalist Stella Barnstool on closer “You When You’re Gone” give signals Anxious are built for much larger print on festival lineup posters. Still, the band doesn’t stray far from A+ contemporaries like Tiny Moving Parts and Somos, even when the songs could pass for Pinkerton-era Cuomo.
That’s what is most striking about Little Green House – unlike other albums of its ilk, there are charming surprises throughout, and the whole thing is pretty damn diverse. The band covers a lot of ground in 30 minutes, and it all works really well. Even the lyrics, which deal with typical emo tropes like romantic relationships, broken homes, and fractured friendships, give the melodies a buoyancy not found on recent albums from others in the genre. For my money, the best song is still “Call From You,” a relatable rumination on Allen’s obsession with perfect articulation and communication with others; it was one of my favorite songs from last year, and it encapsulates the best qualities of the album into three wonderful minutes.
Despite the lyrical content, Little Green House is a fun listen; it’s endlessly repeatable and a soundtrack for those more pensive moments in 2022, particularly if you prefer your introspection with energetic drum fills and power chords. Jim Adkins would be proud.
In just under a decade, fka twigs has garnered significant acclaim for her art, pairing grotesque visuals with glitchy, industrial, avant-garde forrays into the world of progressive 21st-century R&B. For her newest release since 2019’s immersive MAGDALENE, twigs has dropped a mixtape without fanfare and very little promotion beforehand, save for one single released to streaming services a few weeks prior. (That song is “tears in the club,” a duet with The Weeknd that is by far the best track on this new project.)
I’m not really sure what twigs fans will think of CAPRISONGS – it is by far her most accessible collection to date. Perhaps the culture has finally caught up to what she was doing, as nowadays we can hear even weirder and more deconstructed perspectives from the likes of Arca and some far-reaching areas of hyperpop. Those familiar with previous work will appreciate the slight updates on textures twigs is best known for; heavy vocal manipulation and her trademark soft falsetto encompass songs like “lightbeamers” and “minds of men.” But in many moments, twigs goes a different direction – “oh my love” could be mistaken for a low-key deep cut from Doja Cat’s Planet Her, and (as the mixtape’s title would lead us to believe) twigs is currently very inspired by tropical sounds, as is evidenced on “papi bones” and “jealousy.”
At times, I’m not certain these new styles work with twigs’ off-kilter approach to seductive, foreboding atmosphere in her music. Another strange example (but by no means bad) is “pamplemousse,” which is by far the most upbeat song she has ever written. It is clear, from the lyrical topics of self-worth and maturity in relationships, as well as the willingness to try new sounds, twigs is more confident in her approach, and ultimately that is a good thing for future projects. But overall, CAPRISONGS is a transitional moment in her career, as she aims to become a more prominent part of the mainstream conversation.
It’s probably unnecessary to write 100 words on the latest release from an artist whose work I’ve never connected with in any meaningful way. I suppose it’s important, in my growth as a music fan, to recognize that not everything is made for me, and there are just some areas of music, maybe even genres I generally adore, that I will not understand. Knowing this, and familiar with the work of Earl Sweatshirt, I still went in with open ears, listening to the entire half hour of SICK!, which felt like much longer.
Earlheads (or whatever his fanbase is called) should take all of this with a grain of salt, as it is likely I just don’t “get it”, but I find Sweatshirt’s output to be critically overrated and a tedious listen. The uninspired jazz loops and ambient sounds, combined with Earl’s arhythmic delivery of abstract poetry, barely register as rap music in my mind. On paper, Earl is a gifted lyricist, though I think his best work is elsewhere. But his apathetic “cadence” renders whatever obscure statements he wishes to make ineffective, and the heap of praise he consistently receives (and likely will for this latest effort) reeks of pretentiousness.
On first impression, Dawn FM has two things I generally love by default: a loose concept that vaguely threads the songs together in some form of a central idea or narrative… and fake radio drops and jingles. As a lifelong “radio geek,” who grew up listening incessantly to the local Top 40 station in lieu of going outside with the other kids, my love for radio went way beyond hearing what song was next in the queue. It was the whole thing – the slickness of the segues, the sharpness of the DJ’s announcements, the immaculately timed and produced ads. But one thing I loved, and still do, frankly, is how a radio station’s format will set the tone, the whole vibe for what goes on when a song isn’t playing.
Classic rock stations are casual. Country stations are cheerful. Top 40 stations are fun and energetic. Alternative stations are snarky and sarcastic. Rap stations are energetic as well, but also more informed with the local scene. And Jim Carrey on Dawn 103.5 is a comforting companion, guiding you on a journey, according to Abel Tesfaye, out of a Los Angeles tunnel in gridlocked traffic. By extension, and not-so-subtley referenced by DJ Truman Show, the tunnel represents a type of purgatory, and Dawn FM is the friendly, sometimes funky, soundtrack.
These sounds are primarily brought to you by the unlikely production duo Max Martin and Daniel Lopatin (of Oneohtrix Point Never notoriety), though others make an appearance, including our favorite Funk Wav Bouncer, Calvin Harris. Throughout the album, Tesfaye plays only slightly with a winning formula, continuing the synth worship and 80s influence that permeated throughout his blockbuster effort After Hours. But while tracks like “Blinding Lights” drew comparisons to new wave, the vibe has grown more nocturnal this time around. The new loops are more sinister, akin to something that might compel John Carpenter to hit the dance floor.
Tesfaye, or should we say his alter-ego The Weeknd, doesn’t stray too far lyrically from the topics we are accustomed to hearing from him – sex, hedonism, struggles with relationships. Sonically, he’s come a long way from the hazy strip club nights that were documented on House of Balloons, but The Weeknd is still tackling those demons, albeit with a shiny, new pandemic-induded bout of existentialism.
But not isolation – while The Weeknd mostly rode solo on After Hours, this time around we are treated to some excellent guest appearances from Tyler, the Creator (alongside Bruch Johnston of the Beach Boys on “Here We Go…. Again”) and Lil Wayne rapping over a Daniel Lopatin beat (on the exquisite “I Heard You’re Married”), which is something I am pleased to hear and also something I never thought I would ever hear. We also can’t fail to mention the other party on Dawn FM that was involved in Uncut Gems other than Tesfaye and Lopatin, and that’s director Josh Safdie, who makes a brief appearance in the trippy infomercial “Every Angel Is Terrifying.”
But of course the star here is The Weeknd, who sounds more confident than ever – his vocal inflections and experimentation, most notably on “Gasoline,” support a robust wave of immaculate and consistent production. Abel is intertwined with the sound of pop in the third decade of this century, alongside A+ peers like Dua Lipa, but simultaneously his approach is singular and unmistaken. A great example is the new single “Sacrifice,” which is an absolute floor-filler reminiscent of another superstar that Tesfaye has been compared to before – Michael Jackson, but could only come from The Weeknd.
We also hear the influence of legend Quincy Jones on “Out of Time,” which is equal parts slow funk jam and quiet storm radio. (Jones also shows up for an autobiographical spoken-word interlude.) Then there’s “Less Than Zero,” an immediate highlight that sounds like a mix of The War On Drugs and The Bangles “Manic Monday” with additional melancholy. It all serves to continue Tesfaye’s natural progression as an engaging auteur in sidestep with sustained superstar status.
If there’s anyone who serves to upstage The Weeknd on his own album, it’s Carrey, who gets the final word – an extended monologue that serves to encompass the theme of the past hour: “you gotta be heaven to see heaven.”
Since we’re talking about the “theme” of this whole thing, I’m not sure it fully translates, though I want to note that isn’t necessarily an issue. While the lyrics are typical Weeknd fare (with a few exceptions that mention “dying in the discotheque” etc), the things that surround them present the concept Abel was going for here. The allusions to the end of one’s life, the statement of facing the light after so much darkness, the metaphor of a tunnel as purgatory – all these things hint to a more wistful outlook on nostalgia, the part that aches more than excites. Add in the artwork of an elderly Weeknd and Carrey’s transcendental musings and the project reveals a positive outlook on death. Again, while this is all there on the surface, at times the concept feel unfocused, especially when paired with Abel’s standard lyrical tropes about drugs and sex.
But to repeat for emphasis, this doesn’t hamper the quality of the album to any significant degree. Most concept albums don’t go all the way, and those that do are usually remembered as jumbled messes. There are also the ones that only set up the concept as window dressing for what is ultimately just a collection of unrelated songs. On Dawn FM, The Weeknd’s concept falls somewhere in the middle, which is good enough for me, since it allows the listener, who probably has their own pandemic-related baggage going on, to interpret the album for themselves. It’s not all tied up in a bow, but the message isn’t under-realized here either.
What it really comes down to is the music, and it’s easily the strongest set of songs of Abel Tesfaye’s career, which also gives Dawn FM the recognition of being the first exciting and interesting pop album of 2022. The Weeknd’s ever-improving songwriting is surrounded by consistently strong soundscapes that evoke longing and yearning like all the best pop music before it. Altogether it’s an immersive journey through the tunnel, tuned in to something slightly left of the dial… or as Carry calls it, that divine boogaloo.
Gunna’s understated Atlanta trap creates a nice consistent soundscape, even amongst numerous A-list producers with varying approaches. As far as features go, the usual suspects are here, including Future, Young Thug, and Lil Baby. By far the highlight comes early with “pushin P”, which serves as a sort of lyrical motif occasionally throughout the album. Unfortunately DS4EVER, the final of Gunna’s Drip Season output, falls into the same trap we’ve seen from Gunna and his peers in the streaming era; quantity is prioritized over quality, and mood is the focus over content. And so while the first few tracks set the scene and are the sharpest of the collection, halfway thru the formula wears pretty thin. The whole thing is a vibe, but it’s one we’ve heard from Gunna before, and one that quickly becomes pretty stale.
This year, culturally speaking, was a major improvement upon the last year overall. This usually happens after a year containing a dearth of quality music, television, and movies. Not that 2012 was abysmal, by all means, but let’s just say this year’s lists were A LOT harder to make. As a whole, a large bulk of content you’ll find on this year’s best-of will likely stand the test of time a bit better than the material we were fed last year.
Also, I graduated from grad school, got a job at Facebook, made new friends, and things are swell more or less. There were ups and downs, and there is a long list of resolutions, and you know, things happened. 2013 was a moderate success. If it was a failure, I’d probably have more to write about, frankly.
So, without further ado, I welcome you to Culture Greyhound’s Year in Review for 2013, a year of very high highs and very low lows, a year of mediocrity and boring disappointment, a year of mind-blowing excellence. You know, a year.
Schedule:
Tuesday: Quarterly Review
Wednesday: Top 20 Remixes
Thursday: Top 200 Tracks
Friday: Top 50 Albums
On a final note, I would like to remind everyone about my always-streaming Internet radio station, Culture Greyhound Radio, which I add music to every week, new and old. Tune in!
I’m a bit late to the show, but like all of Markham’s output, this one’s a grower. It might be the one you’ll have to spend the most time with out of all of the Markham albums. And that’s because, underneath the twang, the West Texas melodies, the semblance of loneliness, that dirgy Deadsy guitar, that brilliant album title, and that head-scratching album cover, Ruined My Life is a new side of Daniel Markham he’s merely hinted at in the past. With this, the first post-Lubbock proper full-length, and the first proper solo album, his eyes are turned outward, his head is held higher, and frankly, the mood’s a bit brighter.
The highlight here is “New Blood.” Uptempo and upbeat, Markham signals early this album represents a change in life, attitude, and perspective. And I can’t think of a single song he’s ever done that sounds anything like it. Throughout the album, a theme of “moving on” and “well wishes” are given as opposed to past Markham mantras of lost love and confused direction. Pronouns have shifted in his lyrics, giving advice to broken hearts rather than lamenting his own. One Wolf’s material produced an image of internal battle and identity struggle. Ruined My Life (with a title that’s simultaneously humorous, unfortunate, guilty, and, maybe for an ex, downright accurate) contains songs that signify that internal battle, at least for now, has been won.
The death of R.E.M. likely put a heavy weight on the songwriter’s psyche. I’m merely speculating, but I’d be willing to bet money that’s who the “favorite band” is in Ruined My Life. Regardless, the influence has never been more prevalent in Markham’s music than here. “Drag Up Some Dead” sounds like it could belong deep on New Adventures In Hi-Fi and “Killers They Will Creep” makes the younger Markham of Waiting to Derail fame sound like a guy wasting away in Margaritaville. We’ve certainly come a long way from “Wish,” haven’t we?
But mostly, it’s an amalgamate of good ol’ Markham. Combining elements of pretty much everything he’s ever done, from the lovelorn alt-country of Waiting to Derail to the pop laden with sadness throughout the first One Wolf album, to the cacophony of guitar and emotional torment in the second One Wolf album, there’s signature sounds here that immediately make me think of Lubbock, Texas, even though I haven’t been there in years, and I’ve never heard this new music there.
But this is not Lubbock music. Lubbock is a wonderful place to live….for a while. But anyone who’s felt stuck there likely would put a few One Wolf tracks on their mixtape dedicated to a future away from the eerie desolation, the unending boredom, the strange loneliness in a town of 300,000 people. The Markham Sound is inherently Lubbock – it was born there, it still remains in his music; you never really wash off that red dirt. But lyrically, thematically, this is the soundtrack of Lubbock behind you. The melodies are more positive (“No Mosquitos,” which could be about leaving the 806), the thoughts are optimistic (“Best of Luck,” one of the strongest tracks on the album), and the humor, always hinted at in the past, is more apparent here. Less about love lost and more about change, traveling, touring, living life, Ruined My Life is a more mature Markham, a refocused, repurposed, relocated, and recalculated Texas musician Denton should be proud to call a resident.
If Anthony Gonzalez’ breakthrough album Dead Cities, Red Seas, and Lost Ghosts was a dreamy bedroom experiment, and it pretty much was, that means Before the Dawn Heals Us was a beautiful cinematic sleeper hit, and it also pretty much was. Let’s call Digital Shades Vol. 1 an itch Gonzalez had to scratch – it was an ambient pastiche favoring mood over substance (fingers crossed for no Volume 2). And then there was the masterpiece, Saturdays = Youth. Favoring over-the-top, pathos-driven production and theme, it was a brilliant homage to the 80’s, teenage angst, and young love. It was beautiful, near flawless. It has grown to be one of my favorite albums not just of 2008, or of the last decade, but of all time. It’s one of those albums you turn on before you drift off at night, it’s a cloud that sweeps you away.
So how does Gonzalez top what will no doubt be his finest work? An epic, two-disc conceptual album inspired by Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness and childhood slumber. Over 72 minutes and 22 tracks, M83 brings together an array of sounds built around the theme of dreaming, and it really does sound like it. Gonzalez has always been great at building, rather than borrowing, from his older works; here you can hear the grand tinkering of Dead Cities, the bold soundscapes of Before the Dawn, the soft ambience of Digital Shades, and the captivating emotion of Saturdays.
But there’s something more; as with every album, Gonzalez continues to grow. He is now the prominent vocalist for his band, holding his own alongside the declarative Zola Jesus and previous collaborator Morgan Kibby. And his songs now are even more direct pop statements; rather than hinting at the idea of achieving soundtrack-worthy compositions in one part of the album, Gonzalez has stretched them throughout. There is a memorable melody around every corner, in between each instrumental interlude, each playful crescendo with laughing children, each soft acoustic strum.
Sure, it’s nowhere near the brilliance of Saturdays=Youth. Maybe it does run a little long, maybe there are a few too many short interludes, maybe there are slight flaws hidden around the strong highlights. But isn’t that why we love double albums? Their ambition? Their objective? Their adventure? As with any double album, this is meant not to be shuffled around for your commute, but to be listened to in one sitting, or two, or ten. It’s meant to be fully digested as a whole over and over again. And ultimately, that is a rewarding task. It may not be the best M83 album, but it’s certainly one of the best albums of 2011.
Music, Movies, Television, etc. Pop culture reviews for the short-attention-span Internet age.
Blue Valentine (2010)
It truly is a crime Gosling was robbed of a Best Actor nomination this year, as he and Michelle Williams both deliver mesmerizing performances. Blue Valentine all by itself is a powerful film, a realistic portrayal of an unfortunately true-all-the-time tale of a couple filled with circumstance and rejection, a marriage falling apart, and a family just beginning to break. The romance scenes are particularly intense and shot well, and the getting-to-know-you dialogues between Williams and Gosling sell the movie for me.
