Wednesday, May 20, 2020

Listening Log Past - Volume 45



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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Yo La Tengo | Popular Songs
2009 | Indie Pop | Listen

FEEL GOOD SONGS ON THE VERGE OF COMBUSTION

To say Yo La Tengo aged gracefully into their waning years would be an understatement. The consistency that runs through their illustrious discography has, inadvertently so, positioned them as an under-appreciated, but wholly-necessary Indie Rock outfit. One would normally be surprised an album twenty years into a band's career had the header I Am Not Afraid Of You & I Will Kick Your Ass, if all the astonishment wasn't taken up by the music itself. Yo La Tengo's 2006 LP sideswiped me, quickly becoming my favorite in the band's discography with greatness pouring from copious avenues, be it the Indie Pop diddy 'Mr. Tough,' the melodic theatricality of 'Black Flowers,' or the sprawling Krautrock of 'The Story Of Yo La Tango.' It was a soaring epic that, admittedly, made any successor's attempt at equaling the majesty trite.

That's where we find Popular Songs. Here, Yo La Tengo, for the most part, reel back the unpredictability by nestling in their safe, summertime Indie Pop. Think of Summer Sun with a kick to motivate. Virtuosos of melody, many of these songs caress the ear with pleasantries one can't be offended by. 'Avalon Or Someone Very Similar,' 'If It's True,' and 'All Your Secrets' are some examples, dipping heavily into Belle & Sebastian's bookworm Chamber Pop. Easy, breezy, and carefree, these efforts are enjoyable, but ultimately fleeting as a sense of complacency takes form. In reality, there's only one straight-forward Indie Rock cut that recalls Yo La Tengo's 90's limelight and that's 'Nothing To Hide.' With its Noise-ridden rhythms engulfing Ira Kaplan's composed vocals and playfully-romantic lyrics, 'Nothing To Hide' could've easily found itself on I Can Hear The Heart Beating As One without anyone batting an eyelash.

However, Yo La Tengo essentially shot themselves in the foot, as Popular Songs' most notable feature is its structuring. There are a dozen songs sprawled out over 72 minutes, yet a whopping half (36 minutes on the dot) are compiled in just the final three cuts. Yo La Tengo aren't strangers to a lengthy outro if 'Blue Line Swinger's' nine minutes, 'The Story Of Yo La Tango's' twelve, and 'Night Falls On Hoboken's' 18 has taught us anything, but three? One is great, one is acceptable, one is irrelevant. Can you guess which goes where? It's quite easy. 'More Stars Than There Are In Heaven,' with its melodic build and clandestine, Dream Pop haze, fulfills the former category. 'And The Glitter Is Gone,' with its unrelenting Krautrock/Noise Pop/Drone hybrid, casually settles in mediocrity. While the sluggish, motionless gauze of 'The Fireside' drags into oblivion. It's Slowcore that would make Auburn Lull, Low, even Red House Painters disinterested. Popular Songs would've faired so much better had 'More Stars Than There Are In Heaven' been its official end, with 'The Fireside' nowhere to be seen and 'And The Glitter Is Gone' adding nothing more than what a bonus track would.

C
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Beulah | The Coast Is Never Clear
2001 | Indie Pop | Listen

HOW TO LET THE SUN GUIDE YOUR WAY

Beulah's debut When Your Heartstrings Break left me flush with joy, waiting to appreciate their sophomore release wouldn't be a possibility. Thankfully, The Coast Is Never Clear changes naught. One could criticize Beulah for treading down the same path of boundless euphoria, but the same person (read: me) can't resist the temptation, allure, and satisfaction their music brings. Beulah revels in detailed simplicity, a style of Indie Pop that would soon send waves through the ensuing quarter century. Tracks like 'Gene Autry' and 'Gravity's Bringing Us Down' beam with shimmering brightness, akin to Wilco at their least wound, while others, like 'I'll Be Your Lampshade' and 'Hello Resolven,' foretell of a modern Modest Mouse, shedding their gloomy Indie Rock origins for a mid-2000's ripe with insouciance regalia.

All this can collectively be paired with the likes of Yo La Tengo ('What Will You Do When Your Suntan Fades') or Belle & Sebastian ('Hey Brother'), with the former even receiving a nod in The Coast Is Never Clear's final track title 'Night Is The Day Turned Inside Out,' as Indie Pop purveyors pushing through a tumultuous 2000's with the warmth of the 90's on their back. Ominously enough, despite the glee that glistens off all The Coast Is Never Clear's twelve songs, Beulah's sophomore LP was released on September 11th, 2001; The day 90's conviviality came to a crashing halt. Hope is timeless, and what better way to move forward with the optimism of a righteous life than with Beulah, who succeed once more in crafting triumphal Pop songs that, like their primary influencer The Beach Boys, will never go out of style.

B
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Goldfrapp | Felt Mountain
2000 | Downtempo | Listen

A RED GOWN KILLER, SMOKING HER CIGARETTE

Goldfrapp's debut Felt Mountain is a perfect example of atmosphere above all else. The balances, even compared to that of its Trip Hop counterparts (Dummy, Mezzanine, Moon Safari), is shifted drastically towards aesthetic over substance. What Goldfrapp lacks in innervating a genre on the cusp of elevator music, she more than makes up for in lavish decor that disguises the tedium with flush grandeur and scandalous imagery. Speaking of said elevator, it's the difference between an austere, functional lift in any apartment complex, versus that of a sumptuous one draped in shimmering mirrors and mystified lighting. Felt Mountain heightens what's otherwise a drab, sorry take on Portishead by going fathoms deep in this Noir-esque artistry. The result is gorgeous, just not all too stimulating.

In fact, Felt Mountain's best moments is its first thirty seconds, as an alarming space siren in 'Lovely Head' gives way to a tranquil, Neu-Western groove that instantly asserts the listener into Goldfrapp's world of desire, sin, and lust. From there on out, Goldfrapp hit the predictable notes. Tracks like 'Paper Bag,' 'Deer Stop,' and 'Horse Tears' languish around weeping histrionics, ripe with swelling orchestral arrangements and sensual keyboard musings, that would pair swimmingly with a dated, 1940's era of cinema dominated by the damsel in distress. Nothing here is bad, including the carnival vomit of 'Oompah Radar' (mainly because of the last 45 seconds where everything swings together), because commitment to Goldfrapp's playhouse aesthetic is never drawn into question. Unsurprisingly, Felt Mountain's two best moments are those which imitate the greatest impact; 'Human' and 'Utopia.' The former is ripped straight from the soundtrack of your favorite Bond film, with its scintillating brass and tantalizing percussion, while the latter stands atop all Felt Mountain as the crowning jewel with its maximalist agenda that smothers you in felt, subduing ruthlessly with ease.

B
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PJ Harvey | Dry
1992 | Alternative Rock | Listen

RIOT GRRRL FOR THE WELL-COMPOSED

There were high hopes leading into Dry, PJ Harvey's debut album that quickly asserted the rebellious youth as a figurehead for the emancipation of anarchists. Emerging as a counterpart to the United States' Grunge movement, Dry most certainly carries much of the same guttural emotion centered largely around pent-up frustration with normalcy. What I can respect in freedom of expression, the same holds no truth for the quality of the music. To me, Dry presented dud after dud after dud, with its most promising moments - 'Oh My Lover,' 'Plants & Rags,' and 'Water' - being average at best. I find similarities to Sonic Youth, The Birthday Party, even the Butthole Surfers. In other words, bands that pride themselves on the grotesque, the unbearable, the repugnant. Elements of No Wave, Noise Rock, and Punk find themselves instigating trouble on Dry, though their impact is lessened by order replacing rawness. Don't let PJ Harvey's cold exterior and antagonistic behavior betray you; This is an orchestrated album that was polished in a studio with the intent of radio play. Hardly raw.

Don't confuse my criticism for misunderstanding. I'm well aware Dry doesn't appeal to me, for the ugly instrumentation that takes itself far too seriously and Harvey's own austere vocals which, ironically, come off as lecturing outrage, isn't my cup of tea. But it could be yours, the mood, tone, and demeanor of Dry just doesn't lend itself well to my personality is all. Much in the way of Sonic Youth, who were able to sidestep that disinterest through sheer talent and artistry, PJ Harvey falters for lack of either. A predictable, organized, lawful jointing of eleven songs is hardly what I'd like to see from an artist who supposes themselves a renegade. I had hopes of finishing this discography, but seeing as how seldom Dry piqued my curiosity - combined with its praise equal to that of PJ Harvey's ensuing material - will likely make that a difficult undertaking.

D+
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of Montreal | The Gay Parade
1999 | Psychedelic Pop | Listen

A TOWN OF ECCENTRICS PARADING THEIR FLOWER CHILD

By now, of Montreal's curious palate and rich tapestry of queer idealism has been thoroughly delineated. All The Gay Parade achieves, that Cherry Peel and The Bedside Drama could not, is taking said idiosyncrasy to the extreme. Each of the previous two LP's thwarted sounds of regalia and drollery with depictions of dubious domestic life, using the childish Psychedelic Pop as a way for Kevin Barnes to simultaneously express his gaiety while presenting a credulous internal wantonness towards his upbringing. That strife was, and still is, genius. But despite largely abandoning such grim prospects, The Gay Parade fairs even better by embracing the concept of "coming out of the closet" with great fanfare. Freedom of expression can be felt on every one of The Gay Parade's 16 songs, no matter how nonsensical, contrarian, or unorthodox.

By and large, the changes of Montreal undergo here are seldom. The majority of songs, be it 'Fun Loving Nun,' 'Jacques Lamure,' 'The Autobiographical Grandpa,' or 'The Miniature Philosopher,' still abide by their two-minute rule. Cut out the fat, let hook and concept reign supreme. Each is a fanciful idea that, like any number of scribblings in an artist's sketchbook, would be ruled out by a more sensible craftsman. But here, of Montreal embrace that irrational extravagance, equating the lunacy towards The Gay Parade's cover which depicts a Dr.Seuss-like world where the likes of The Lorax, Barb-A-Loot, Horton, and Sam-I-Am have been transformed into humans unbound by societal expectation. It really is an explosion of color. The best tracks elicit this through The Gay Parade's communal atmosphere, wherein a litany of outrageous vocals join Barnes in Vaudevillian procession, much akin to a parade. 'Fun Loving Nun,' 'Neat Little Domestic Life,' 'My Friend Will Be Me,' and 'Nickee Coco & The Invisible Tree' are all heightened because of this maximalist devoir, with the latter taking the crown as a momentous climax to of Montreal's blithely independence. The coda that concludes it is something to behold, and carries on of Montreal's track record for closers (alongside 'You've Got A Gift' and 'It's Easy To Sleep When You're Dead.'

There's plenty more nuance to be unearthed here, but much of the fun comes in discovery. The sudden juxtapositions ('Jacques Lamure,' 'A Man's Life Flashing Before His Eyes'), the truly nonconformist lyrics, even the rarely-heard dips into solemnity that contradict contradictions ('A Collection Of Poems About Water') all amount to The Gay Parade's freewheeling hubbub. A joyous occasion one can't help but partake.

B
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