The Ocean Collective - Precambrian (2007)

The Ocean is a revolving group of musicians around Berlin who've just recorded a concept album. That's right: the title says it all. This is an album about the Precambrian era.

In these two disks, you'll find twenty minutes on the Hadean & Archean periods, in which the Earth was pretty much a big ball of fire. The music reflects this. The riffs go CHUGCHUGGACHUGGACHUG and the bass drum goes DUBBADUBBADUBBADUB and the vocals go GRARARAAA, GRARARARRAAAAAAUGGH!! It's not the best stuff out there, or the most original, but it's a step up for fans of generic noisy American bands. The unusual rhythms and growly chords are pleasers, and the singer does sound as though he would break into one's house and tear one's wife in half. Even given the fun rhythms and crushing guitar, it's the second disk that gets exciting. 

We begin the second disk with an echoing guitar and mournful saxophone that seem to echo down an empty street though soup-thick fog. Is this Casablanca? Is it Cowboy Bebop? No: this is the Proterozoic!

Track two picks up on the first's coda and takes it for a walk through gentle territory like a respite in an Opeth epic, oddly maintaining a second vocalist who sounds like he just came from a bar fight. Two minutes in, we're reminded that, yes, this is a metal album when they break out a melodic but angry guitar line and the barfly starts shouting again. By four minutes in, piano and cello (I think?) have softened the scene again. Anyone who wishes that the loud guy from the Mighty Mighty Bosstones could be Opeth's lead singer is REALLY in luck. Then, six minutes in: GRRAAAAAAUUGH!!

The rest is along the same lines. I still don't have enough metal experience to classify this baby, but I get the feeling that neither would anyone else. It has excellent melodic elements and bone-crushing, brutal heaviness that go well together. The pace changes dramatically from the Hadean (hammering, but this is no speedcore) to the ponderous pace of the slower Proterozoic elements. Time signatures vary: plenty of the two disks will be in 3/4, like much metal, but others are in evidence. The styles change widely, probably because the line-up of this group changed from session to session. Yes, there is one voice-over from an obscure movie. Also of note are the lyrics. The Ocean tends to write about one or both of two things: being overwhelmed, alienated and absorbed by modern job culture, and (surprise surprise) DROWNING IN THE OCEAN. The only way to tell the difference is to look up the lyrics online. I was somewhat surprised by the lack of lyrics discussing plate tectonics, the evolution of sexual reproduction, or the Oxygen Crisis, but I got over it. There must be a metaphor somewhere. Besides, it's not like anyone was around for the Precambrian - for all I know, that's what everyone was talking about back then. 

If one is looking for variety in one's sonic brutality, this is a good place to start. On some tracks, I think to myself, this is the kind of thing that King Crimson might have done if they'd been Germans who got together in 2000, and if all of the breakups and reformations had occurred in the space of one album. On others, I think, GRRAAAAAAAUGH!!

RECORD REVIEW: Does It Offend You, Yeah? - You Have No Idea What You're Getting Yourself Into (2008)

A group of four motley Brits from the town of Reading, Does It Offend You, Yeah? is a band that seems to have no idea of what to do with itself. To start with, there's the origin of their name, one of the most ham-handed and awkward band names on the face of the planet except for "!!!," which I still don't think anyone has actually managed to figure out how to pronounce. Synth/guitar player Dan Coop describes the creation process thus, in an interview with NME.com:

"When me and James Rushent first started writing music together we decided to put it up on MySpace. We needed a name to put as our profile name so just put what was the first thing that was said on TV, we switched it on and Ricky Gervais [of The Office] said 'Does it offend you, yeah? My drinking?' so we just went with that. No thought went into it whatsoever."

Their equally as awkward-to-say album, You Have No Idea What You're Getting Yourself Into (the result of the same creation process), seems just as lacking as their name in terms of creative direction and overall statement of purpose. With most bands, you can immediately say what style they definitely are - My Chemical Romance is whiny teen-angst wrist-slitting emo with rock opera delusions of Queen, Metallica is groovy thrash riff after groovy thrash riff for eight minutes at a time (not that kind of groovy you dumb hippie), and Flogging Molly are that irresistible mash-up of Irish folk music and punk rock. Does It Offend You, Yeah? seems to have not found their definitive style at all, and therefore resign themselves to doing everything they think would be cool. This works well for individual cuts off of the album, but the record itself when taken as a whole ends up rather disastrous, much like your typical college dorm project gone wrong.

You know what, these names are so incredibly awkward to type that from now on I'm just going to call them Stupid Band Name, a group from Reading who released Stupid Album Name to lukewarm reviews in 2008. Please keep this in mind as you continue reading.

Stupid Album Name fluctuates between three distinct styles that the band seems to enjoy doing. The first is a MSTRKRFT style electro-distortion fest heavy with vocoders and cowbells that would be perfect to mix on a modern dancefloor alongside similar contemporaries like Justice and Digitalism. (I myself have dropped the fidgety "Weird Science" and floor-destroying "We Are Rockstars" to great reception at parties over the summer.) The second is a fascination with dancepunk in the damn-the-torpedoes-full-speed-ahead stylings of groups like Klaxons and Death From Above 1979. Tracks like "Let's Make Out" and "Attack Of The 60 ft. Lesbian Octopus" (a good use of a long name) whiz out of your speakers at Mach 3, making perfect driving music. The last style they do, which can be heard on "Dawn Of The Dead" and the not very epic "Epic Last Song", sounds like a mediocre imitation of The Killers, who are themselves a mediocre imitation of Bruce Springsteen. I don't get this bit, because it seems like the inclusion of songs like this is a half-assed attempt at showing us how Stupid Band Name has "soul." Any listener can tell you, however, that their true soul comes across during the DFA79-ish tracks, where they actually sound like they're having earnest fun. Britrock-ballads-with-beats cuts like "Being Bad Feels Pretty Good" sound more like the band was forced into doing them at gunpoint by some cliched Bond villain.

"Oi, what is this shite? You really expect me to be Brandon Flowers?"
"No, Meester Ruthers. I expect you to die."

If there ever was an album for the hit single iTunes generation that my dad claims we are, this really is it. If you're a DJ, just download "Battle Royale," "Weird Science," and "We Are Rockstars" off of Beatport and don't give them a second glance. If you want to hear the band at their best, grab the more dancepunky stuff. Don't subject yourself to the boring poor-man's-Killers stuff; something tells me that the members of Stupid Band Name wouldn't want you to listen to them either.

RECORD REVIEW: The Killers - Day & Age (2008)

I've had a hard-on for the Killers ever since 2004 and Hot Fuss, a beautiful album with depth, range, and irresistible synth. Sam's Town was a refinement of their sound, though it sacrificed the more laidback approach that made the second half of Hot Fuss so enjoyable ("On Top" and "Everything Will Be Alright," for example), for the sake of making the same two songs six times each. But those two songs sounded great, and I'd be happy to listen to "Bling (Confession of a King)" on repeat for a good long while. Sam's Town didn't do anything new, but it was still solidly written and it had lots of synth. I like synth, so that's good.

Skipping past the forgettable B-sides album Sawdust, we arrive at Day & Age, the album that determines whether or not the Killers have staying potential. And I'm sorry to say I'm not optimistic. The album starts strong: first single "Human" is suitably grandiose, though I'm still not sure if there's a single real instrument on the track (I like synth guys, but your fake strings sound awful). "Losing Touch" is even better, hinting at the former glory of fellow album-opener "Jenny Was a Friend of Mine." But aside from the (fairly anemic) guitar riffs, the instrumentation is a mess again. Add that to frontman Brandon Flowers' inability to write a song without a downtempo section anymore (goddamnit!), and the best songs on the album just don't belong in the same category as anything off Hot Fuss.

And that's the good stuff. By the time track 4, "Joy Ride" rolls around, Day & Age has fallen apart. I'm glad you've been listening to a lot of jazz recently, Brandon, but it doesn't work. Neither do the tribal chants (Really? Are you sure? Really?) on "This Is Your Life." Neither does trying to be Belle & Sebastian on "I Can't Stay" (Is that a GLOCKENSPIEL?). Jesus Christ I can't believe I just wrote that sentence about the Killers, of all people. For fuck's sake, guys. You're better than this.

If you like the Killers, don't buy Day & Age. Just sit down and listen to Hot Fuss a couple times instead. And if you don't have Hot Fuss, listen to Sam's Town. They used to be good, I promise. But now? I guess the soul is gone.

RECORD REVIEW: Pink Floyd - Animals (1977)

Pink Floyd is the bomb - the smart bomb. I love these guys, from about 1967 up to '75. Wish You Were Here is the last one that blew me away, and the middle tracks (dominated by Roger Waters) turned me off to anything after that. After '75, "IMHO", they should have called it a day, but Roger Waters took over the band and drove them into the ground with albums like "The Wall" and "My Dad Died in the War and I Hate Maggie Thatcher". Billy Pilgrim recommended Animals (1977) to me, and since I know that he shares my opinions on Waters, I chose to give it a try.

The album is a mixed bag, but it's a bag mixed with goodness. At some points, the sound gets pretty mainstream, a generic classic-rock sound. That disappoints me because I could get that anywhere: when I put on Pink Floyd, I want an album that only Pink Floyd could deliver. Rest assured that this is such an album, but not to the same degree as DSotM or Meddle. My theory? As Wikipedia tells me, "Rick Wright admittedly did not contribute much compositionally". Wright is the keyboard wizard behind "Any Color You Like" (Remember that the defining characteristic of Wish You Were Here is the mind-blowing keyboards? Remember the bit at the end of Dark Side where the keyboards blow out the back of your skull with a ray of pure prismatic LSD? That's Wright.) and part of the lyrics to "Time", my favorite Pink Floyd poetry. He and Gilmour are, I suspect, the genius behind post-Barrett/per-Waters Pink Floyd. I'd like also to note that all band memebers EXCEPT Waters are credited on "Any Color". Make of it what you will.

Animals itself requires dedication. It begins and ends with a little acoustic segue. The songs do not skimp and are longer than the line in front of Have-a-good's register. Roger's bass is mostly in its place as a team player, the songs are weird and interesting (though sounding more plastic than earlier albums - see "Sheep"). Wright's keyboards are what I really miss. He sounds dried out. The keys don't have the psychedelic sunburst power that is what keeps me coming back to Pink Floyd long since my original love affair with Gilmour's guitar. Here, the atmosphere comes often from flourishes on the guitar that any rock band could muster or from cheap echo voice effects. Where is the ineffable? Where is the incomparable? Where is the Pink? I'm not sure. There's a little bit in "Pigs (Three Different Ones)", but that disappears 50 seconds in with a gross-out faux-string preview of the 1980's. Starting at 1.50, you can hear the nails going into the coffin - or is that a cowbell? Wright, you make me cry. Waters, you make me grimace. In all, it's a good album, and it's a Pink Floyd album, but by my count, it's not a good Pink Floyd album.

Finally, take note:

" I didn't really like this album much. I have to say I didn't fight very hard to put my stuff on and I didn't have anything to put on. I played on it. I think I played really well but I didn't contribute to the writing on it and also I think Roger was kind of not letting me do that. I think it was the start of the whole ego thing in the band, Animals. "

– Rick Wright, November 1994, BBC Omnibus Pink Floyd Special 1994.

RECORD REVIEW: Justice - A Cross The Universe (Live, 2008)

Tell me something, dear readers. When was the last time you danced? And I mean, really balls-out danced with no restraint or care for who was watching? And no, drunken dancing doesn't count. You have to have been completely sober.

A challenging question, nu?

For me, it was the first time I had heard Justice's debut album, the aptly-titled †, which was (and still is) the sonic equivalent of a fully computerized disco-powered bulldozer. Cuts like "Phantom II," "Genesis," and "Waters of Nazareth" thunder across the dancefloor demolishing everything in their path, taking no prisoners and leaving no survivors, and Michael Jackson throwbacks like the catchy-as-all-hell "D.A.N.C.E." and the Schoolhouse Rock inspired "Valentine" give you appropriate time to catch your breath. As a fan of heavy metal music, I was consistently astounded at how absolutely fucking heavy Justice was. Finally, techno I could mosh to!

Hearing this year that they had a live album on the horizon certainly whetted my appetite, as Daft Punk's Alive 2007 had proved to me last year how well electronic music can be performed live, much like any other genre of music could - with variety, spin, flair, improvisation, and a lot of fun. I was incredibly eager to hear how well Justice would feed off the crowd's enthusiasm, put new spins on old favorites, mash up Hit Single 1 with Hit Single 2, and leave everyone in shock and awe by the end, still unsure of what exactly they had just experienced. A live album from a group must not only successfully carry across the experience of seeing them live almost perfectly, but it must also make you think to yourself "Shit, I wish I was there" at least every five minutes. On these qualities, Justice delivers. Oh man, do they ever fucking deliver.

Listening to A Cross The Universe is akin to repeatedly being hit in the back of the head with a platinum sledgehammer, with a fine layer of Colombian cocaine covering it. It hurts, but it hurts so good! The Parisian duo ferociously thunders to the top yet again, throwing re-interpretation after re-interpretation of favorite cuts at us, from the symphonic "Stress" to the Homework-era Daft Punk throwback "Two Minutes To Midnight", not to mention the first part of their live remix of "D.A.N.C.E.", which you can't help but hold up a lighter and sing along to. I wish I could have been a part of every single piece of this concert, especially the call-and-response crowd game/Ministry-sampling thrashfest that "We Are Your Friends" (d)evolved into. This is everything that a live electronic album should be - I've found that a lot of DJs nowdays completely forget that there are (gasp!) OTHER PEOPLE down there that they're supposed to be playing music for! Justice's crowd interaction is what the modern DJ should strive to achieve, if he wants to turn the dancefloor into the same party and give his audience the same blunt-trauma-mixed-with-cocaine-high treatment that works so well on A Cross The Universe.

Oh, and they sample Metallica at the end.

The Purpose Of This Blog

Valentine, Nick, and myself all have one thing in common - we love the hell out of our music collections.

It's what provides that one lone voice of sanity for us while we're locked up in our dorm rooms, cramming for that last exam of the semester. It's what sets the mood when we've got a girl over and the lights are turned down low. It's what we buy another copy of on vinyl and marvel in the mythical "warmth." It's what we freak out to and rediscover when blazed out of our minds. It's what we dance to in drunken stupors down at the Mug. It's what we headbang furiously to when we need to feel SO ENERGETIC, have 400 BABIES, and run as fast as KENYANS.

But most importantly, it's what we love. And we know you feel the same way.

This blog has been started to provide an outlet for what we think of the music releases we listened to - whether we loved them, whether we only really liked that one hit single with the cool music video, whether we thought the album was a crime against nature that Hitler would have put on his Top 10, etc. But there are a few goals we have set for ourselves in order to make sure that we differentiate ourselves from the millions of other music bloggers out there, each eager for their own slice of that sweet, sweet Internet. Mmmmmm, Internet.

To start with, we love Vassar. Who is Vassar? Vassar is you. Ergo, we love you.
This blog has been started primarily to be a music review site to cater to the student community of Vassar College. So send us requests for albums to review! We'll take as many requests as we can, and write reviews for all of them, assuming we survive the album. We're also going to have a fun feature called Dueling Riffs, in which two members of Los Putos (that's us) will go head to head and Siskel-and-Ebert an album - either of our choice or yours. A few of you lucky Vassarites might be invited to Duel Riffs with one of us, if we feel very strongly about your album choice, either for good or for bad, and think it might make an interesting article. Sound cool? Hope it does.

Additionally, we hate most of the music press. At least, Nick and I sure do.
Pitchfork takes themselves way too seriously and single-handedly ruins indie music daily, Rolling Stone is too afraid to rate any album under three stars, and most of the throwaway magazines give perfect scores out practically for free in a pathetic effort to boost sales. But one critic in particular, the self-appointed "Dean of Rock Critics," particularly catches our ire, and it is this man who the blog is directed to oppose - the Emmanuel Goldstein to Los Putos' Big Brother, if you would.
That's right, I'm speaking of Robert Christgau. He's a total dickwad, you can tell from that smug little expression on his face. You can also tell from the fact that he'll "review" albums he doesn't think are worth his time with a piece of MS Word clip art, and when he does give a proper review, he'll get everything wrong. See: giving Soulja Boy an A-, saying Radiohead stole their act from Bono, hating obviously awesome groups Black Sabbath and Daft Punk, and other heinous crimes against modern music. We'd prefer for him to hang, but we'll be satisfied by just calling him a dickwad.

So, to sum up: we love music, we love Vassar just as much as we love music, we hate Christgau as much as we love Vassar and music. Stay tuned for more, kids.

Always wear sunscreen,
--Billy Pilgrim