What's a Listening Log? Well, the idea is quite simple. It's a weekly segment that consolidates all the mini-reviews Dozens Of Donuts has given on RateYourMusic over the past week, split between the Past and Present. A straightforward grading scale has been put in place, ranging from A+ to F-, with C acting as the baseline average. There is no set amount of reviews per week, just however many I get around to reviewing. And don't expect week-of reviews. I wait one month - with at least three listens under my belt - before I rate and review an album. Enjoy!
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2013 | Picopop | Listen
A SATURDAY MORNING TV SURF FOR EXCESSIVE WACKINESS
Galaxy Crisis' backstory is not only intriguing, but frankly crucial to understanding Joanna Wang. Especially to outsiders, like myself, who aren't familiar with her Taiwanese stardom. Her debut, Start From Here, sold over 200,000 copies in Asia. Yet Wang herself disavows the project, castigating her music label for abusing her talents in ways not fitting to her aspiring interests. That is why Galaxy Crisis stands in such curious circumstances, released only after a deal was cut with Sony allowing Wang the freedom to follow her heart, in exchange for a series of bland, Singer/Songwriter-driven cover albums. Never cut a deal with the devil, folks. He'll only allow you the pleasure of tasting your passion once.
For Wang, she made the most of the opportunity. By crafting a bizarre, left field record that not only strayed from her mold, but that of any modern music circa 2013. Using Space Age Pop, Picopop, and Zolo, Wang aggressively defies normality while simultaneously basking in her childhood upbringing rife with Saturday morning cartoons and whimsical Nintendo video games. Galaxy Crisis is an album so uncool that its mere, one-of-a-kind existence makes it cool. Every song, instrumental or otherwise, are coated with a slathering of sugar and that rushes ensuing energy. Wang's shrill vocal effects and in-your-face exertion could be, to some, agonizingly overindulgent. Galaxy Crisis is not for everyone, and that's self-evident on the LP's first four theme songs; 'Coins,' 'Pressure's On Me,' 'Antagonist,' and 'Evil Nerd Theme.' The content is trivial with a dash of insincerity and caprice, as if it's an adult making children's music (like The Wiggles) for adults (unlike The Wiggles).
The production is a balderdash of unorthodox Electronic instrumentation, rife with synthesizers, keyboards, and a litany of beeps and boops. Wang's knack for melody, fitting such intoxicating choruses into such small crevices ('Coins,' 'Pressure's On Me'), aligns fittingly with Galaxy Crisis' concept of ADD channel surfing. Numerous songs read like an identifier for a show ('Space Saloon Theme,' 'Evil Nerd Theme,' 'Chitterchat (TV Theme')), but one listen through will make the notion obvious; Every song Wang constructs is intended to be short, quippy, and instantly-gratifying as any great television theme would. 'Frolicktown,' 'Garden Party On Mars,' and 'Galaxy Crisis' are the best examples of this, with the latter incorporating the LP's underlying theatrical qualities, like a musical made by kids for kids. My personal favorite, 'You & Me,' latches onto Danny Elfman's school of thought when it comes to children entertainment. Nimble, 8-bit Pop that sounds like Zelda, Kingdom Hearts, and Katamari Damacy rolled into one, with Wang's most calming vocals (relatively speaking) playing up the queer and quizzical wanderlust.
Galaxy Crisis isn't for everyone, but I'd urge everyone to listen. It could quell a cold, earnest heart or heighten one on the brink of ecstasy.
B-
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Like much of Belle & Sebastian's past EP's, Books represent a brief collection of outtakes, presumably from the giddy, effervescence of Dear Catastrophe Waitress. Of the previous six (!) EP's, Books is likely the weakest but that's more a compliment to what came before than a criticism of the quality present here. As with nearly every EP beforehand, Books is headlined by a stellar single that could've easily made an official LP had the context fit more succinctly. 'Your Cover's Blown' is quite the extreme example of that, as it finds Belle & Sebastian enabling Funk and Neo-Psychedelia in their music; a total first. The groovy, gaily personality and charm bears distinct resemblance to of Montreal, to the point where I can see this song being one, of many, influences for Kevin Barnes.
As for the rest of Books, the lack of distinction makes it hard to remember. 'Cover' is an unnecessary addition, as it essentially provides a strip down instrumental accompaniment for the opening track. 'Wrapped Up In Books' is textbook mid-2000's Belle & Sebastian, with some slight Sophisti-Pop included thanks to a particularly romantic horn arrangement (think Destroyer). Lastly, 'Your Secrets' does nothing but refine the formula Belle & Sebastian have set out to perfect for upwards of a decade (at Books' 2004 release date). It's whimsical, glamorous, and undeniably enjoyable. There's really no doubting the group when they stick with what they know, and 'Your Secrets' is proof of that. It's also proof of Belle & Sebastian's tendency to fade into their own shadow if not for the ambition they so earnestly sport.
C
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One of the world's most popular albums, capturing the zeitgeist of America's preoccupation with war, drugs, and the Rock N' Roll lifestyle in the late 70's. It also, through streamlined Art Rock that eschewed Pink Floyd's past as Progressive Rock harbingers, catapulted the band to wider audiences via conventional means. I say that, considering the height of knockoff Rock Operas trendy at the time. Because in comparison to their past, The Wall is anything but conventional, reveling in gaudy theatrics, absurd digressions, staggering callbacks, and baffling sound design. With its two discs, 26 tracks, and 81 minutes, The Wall would go on to define the Rock Opera while simultaneously killing the genre - and the band - all together.
While I can appreciate The Wall in terms of its gross ambition and forward-thinking use of Spoken Word-driven samples, the actual experience is difficult to chew. Many songs, like 'The Thin Ice,' 'One Of My Turns,' and 'Don't Leave Me Now,' follow a linear, though equally-as-unusual pattern of downtempo pondering giving way to explosive outburst. Couple that with the myriad of interspersed moments of story-first interludes - both within songs themselves ('Young Lust,' 'The Trial') and standalone pieces ('Bring The Boys Back Home,' 'Stop') - and it's clear Pink Floyd's aspirations went beyond the scope of music. The Wall unfolds like a musical, as it was clear that's where Roger Waters' interest lied. It's also the LP's greatest fault. Similarly to any given musical, the soundtrack removed from the visual element is awkward, contrived, and rarely treats musical essentiality with as much regard as the plot.
Unsurprisingly, the times Pink Floyd plaudit music as their primary talent The Wall ascends to great heights. I'm not straying from the consensus by saying 'Another Brick In The Wall, Pt. 2' and 'Comfortably Numb' are triumphs in Rock, the latter unequivocally my favorite Pink Floyd track. Yes, Rogers' verses that exaggerate vocal undulation haven't aged well, but man oh man has David Gilmour's chorus. The cascading orchestral arrangement, meant to represent a drug-induced euphoria, is perhaps one of the most striking and gorgeous creations in all of Rock music. To amplify the level of variation present in The Wall, especially compared to past Pink Floyd works, the LP's second best track - 'Another Brick In The Wall, Pt. 2' - finds zero comparison to 'Comfortably Numb.' It's cheesy, trenchant, and bellicose. Past Pink Floyd works on, say, Wish You Were Here and Animals would roll over in their grave had they heard the insistent primitiveness of the percussion and guitars. But that British children's choir, it's so freaking cool.
There are plenty of other cool moments to sort through the scruff of The Wall. One is the final 20 seconds of 'The Happiest Days Of Our Lives,' which in terms of Indie music is likely the most influential thing Pink Floyd has ever done. Fleeting rapture, I call it. Two is the mild but consistent influence of David Bowie, best seen on tracks like 'Young Lust,' 'One Of My Turns,' and 'Nobody Home.' Third is the pairing of 'In The Flesh' and 'Run Like Hell,' featuring The Wall's best unison of sound and story. It's tracks like these, with their flamboyant masculinity and nose-to-the-grindstone mentality, that prove The Wall's influence on Hard Rock and AOR of the 1980's. Except here it's refreshing and not vapid.
Speaking of vapid, for every satisfying climax brought on by Pink Floyd, there's a paradoxical moment of head-shaking confusion only an album of this self-imposed stature could achieve. Overall, the nuance of Pink Floyd's previous concepts have been gutted in place of overt and unavoidable narration. It's my least favorite thing about musicals, the complete and utter removal of subtlety. That's best (worst?) seen on 'The Trial,' a grating five minutes of "oh, we have to wrap this story up somehow." A rushed third act would put it lightly. Thankfully the elegance and recession of 'Outside The Wall' help close The Wall on a reflective note, especially with the inclusion of its cyclical nature. Along with 'The Trial,' numerous two-minute songs fail to make an impact, be it in regards to their total commitment to anecdote ('Vera') or lackluster light Ambient passages ('Empty Spaces,' 'Is There Anybody Out There?'). With 26 songs, there's bound to be blunders. Unfortunately they outweigh the highs in terms of number. But there's no denying the strength of 'Another Brick In The Wall,' 'Mother,' 'Comfortably Numb,' 'In The Flesh,' and 'Run Like Hell' to keep The Wall afloat.
C
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