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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1999 | Piano Rock | Listen
EMBODYING THE FICKLE, FLIGHTY, HUMAN PSYCHE
Who knew I lived under the false assumption that Fiona Apple reinvented herself on The Idler Wheel, the first and only album I had heard from the eccentric Singer/Songwriter for a handful of years. Turns out, despite sounding modernized and ingratiated in the quirky Indie scene of the early 2010's, Apple's irregular, rhythmic, DIY sensibility first exposed itself 13 years earlier on When The Pawn. It's not her best work, snuggling in comfortably behind Fetch The Bolt Cutters and The Idler Wheel, but it's likely the most ambitious, daring, and avant-garde. It's also a head over heels improvement over Tidal, an album that, while good, felt restrained and protective despite Apple's tenacious spirit waiting to unleash itself. Lure the flock of 90's Contemporary advocates before expounding with determined vigor. That lies at the heart of When The Pawn.
Apart from singular moments on Tidal, like 'Shadowboxer' and 'Criminal,' Apple's knack for intricate, textured, yet effortlessly smooth hooks never revealed themselves. On When The Pawn, that's the calling card. Whether it's 'Limp,' 'Paper Bag,' or especially 'Fast As You Can,' the dexterous muscles flexed are like none other in the genre of Singer/Songwriter, which prides itself on shying away from complexity. Apple confronts a challenge head-on, towering over such insurmountable barricades with steadfast fervency, resulting in such immaculate displays of musical expertise, like 'Fast As You Can.' That song in particular, is so difficult to sing along to, I can't imagine composing it. That's a compliment mind you, to have an imagination as freewheeling and nonconforming as Apple's leads to artistic moments such as these. It's also When The Pawn's second best track, behind, of course, 'Paper Bag,' which is gorgeous in its orchestral build and capricious mental state.
Consistency runs the gamut elsewhere, with the only detracting track being 'Love Ridden.' Why? Because it reminds me too much so of Tidal's dawdling, complacently-safe affairs. 'On The Bound' is a vicious, dominating opener set in a Cabaret nightmare, 'I Know' a picturesque closer, much akin to 'Carrion,' profited immensely by Jon Brion's romantic orchestration. I really only have one criticism for When The Pawn, and that's the overused and drawn-out instrumental outros a handful of these songs parade around. 'On The Bound,' 'Limp,' 'A Mistake,' just three songs whose duration could've been cut short by a minute without any loss of content. Especially given Brion's lack of expansion here. They really are just templates with a tad more flair given Apple's absence. Regardless, minor criticism aside, When The Pawn is Apple's first outstanding album and a clear-cut sign of more greatness to come.
B+
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2010 | Midwest Emo | Listen
SEARCHING FOR HOPE WITH A SPLITTING HEADACHE
In almost all circumstances, I find a level of acceptance with particularly unusual, eccentric, or shrill voices. That is not the case with Adam Demirjian, as his high-pitched, whiny squeal almost single-handedly turns me off of The Brave Little Abacus' music. It was bearable on Masked Dancers, for the sound, ambition, and desperation was new to my ears. However, as the mystique wore off with Just Got Back From The Discomfort, I can't help but grate every time his sulky, waspish vocals reared their ugly head. It's a preference many adore and I won't condemn, much like the Bjork's, Danny Brown's, or Joanna Newsom's of the world. A shame, because Just Got Back From The Discomfort explodes with a level of maximalist passion not typically seen in Emo-ridden genres.
That, in and of itself, is another setback though. In quick order, from 'Pile! No Pile! Pile!' onwards, claustrophobia becomes an immediate sensation that is unavoidable and unrelenting. Sure, there are moments scattered throughout where Demirjian and company relapse into static-induced Ambient passages, but the middle ground is sorely lacking. Certain songs like 'Boy's Theme' and 'Aubade,' while not aspiring to anything great, are more than welcome for their reclusive states amidst the pandemonium elsewhere. As with Masked Dancers, my favorite aspects of The Brave Little Abacus' sound is the infrequent and unexpected inclusion of quirky, 8-bit sampling. It doesn't happen as often here, especially nothing on the level of '(Through Hallways)' which is the only song of theirs I genuinely adore, but rare occasions like on 'Please Don't Cry, They Stopped Hours Ago.' and 'Bug-Infested Floorboards—Can We Please Just Leave This Place, Now.' really help keep my mind intrigued. Overall though, Just Got Back From The Discomfort is too discordant, too encroaching, too precipitated for my tastes.
C
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2019 | Progressive Pop | Listen
MOTIVATIONAL SPRINT MUSIC, SWEATING BE DAMNED
Talk about determination. The sophomore slump is a thing because of debut's like this, one's so overtly ambitious, driven by a desire to perfect an art form. In this case, it's a hybrid blend of Progressive Pop, Krautrock, and Neo-Psychedelia, featuring a dazzling array of colors, movements, and Footwork-esque dance numbers almost impossible to keep up with. W.H. Lung's debut Incidental Music is a blast from start to finish, a riotous Pop album with wayward scope and a penchant for crafting the irresistible ear-worm. Six of the eight songs appeared as singles prior to the album's release, with three - 'Inspiration!,' 'Nothing Is,' and 'Want' - donning a 2017 release date. In other words, Incidental Music has been labored over for quite some time. The final result shows.
Beginning one's debut LP with a ten-minute odyssey through kaleidoscopic pandemonium is quite the risk, though it's apt for the genre Lung primarily tackles on 'Simpatico People:' Krautrock. The invasive percussion, rhythmic vocal layering, and relentless pursuit for euphoria all point to that iconic genre, though the backbone lies more predominantly in Pop instead of Rock. 'Simpatico People,' along with 'Second Death Of My Face,' which achieves much of what the opener dares in half the time, is my favorite piece here for those reasons. There's numerous Neo-Psychedelia influences on these endeavors - Spiritualized, Kitchens Of Distinction, MGMT - but none strive to go as far as Lung. Other influences arise in 'Bring It Up,' which bears resemblance to Dan Deacon's delirious live performances, 'Empty Room,' that contorts itself in bodily ways akin to Glass Animals, and 'Want,' which utilizes Kraftwerk's form of primal Progressive Electronic. Across the whole of Incidental Music one can also hear the impassioned sprint towards exultation displayed in Future Islands' music as well.
Lung has his influences, there's no denying that. But Incidental Music's beaming maximalism, which never becomes overwhelming despite the cacophony (similar to M83's most explosive Synthpop), thoroughly entertains. Though the 51 minutes might be a tad long for what's ultimately a club-ready Dance-Pop album, the uptempo pacing and recurring need for climaxes helps Incidental Music to fly by without questions coming on the mind. A powerful debut that'll be, admittedly, hard to beat.
B
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Tsunami's Deep End is lost in the year of my birth. It's difficult to underestimate just how stuck in early 90's cliches Tsunami is, borrowing from the burgeoning Grunge movement with a foot in the shallow end of Indie Rock. The resulting array of dry, one-dimensional Alternative Rock bridges the gap between Sonic Youth and PJ Harvey. Only once, on the inspiring 'Genius Of Crack,' do the stars of their potential align to expose something that's actually memorable. Though mediocrity arises in 'In A Name' and 'Water's Edgy,' the vast bulk of Deep End - especially the dawdling second half - fails to differentiate itself from a flock of familiar faces. There really isn't more to say. Even the hope of an ambitious closer, with 'Stupid Like A Fox' approaching eleven minutes, was marred by the CD era's most regrettable trend: Hidden tracks. Four minutes of silence for a phone call recording? I'll pass.
D
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1994 | Alternative Rock | Listen
MID-STRIDE BETWEEN HELL AND THE CONFESSIONAL
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds' presumed peak. What do I think of that? Well, considering I've been burnt out by their sinful Western schtick for quite some time, the impact in quality never really annealed. See, given the slow but persistent shift in primary genre's over the course of their career, I was expecting more versatility. But the game of five-finger filet played on Let Love In is the same as Henry's Dream, Tender Prey, and numerous others before. That being said, it does best Henry's Dream as Cave's storytelling drips with a reinvigorated passion, seen best on the two-part 'Do You Love Me?' and 'Nobody's Baby Now,' which blends the two sides of The Bad Seeds - the sin and the repent - splendidly. As I typically prefer the latter, 'Lay Me Low' sits atop my list of favorite tracks on Let Love In, with its Gospel-centric baptismal aesthetic. The culmination on that track alone is worth the price of admission.
Consistency is also improved here, as only 'Loverman' and 'Red Right Hand' fail to keep up with the rest. I'm truly baffled as to the latter's acclaim, often cited as Let Love In's best, for the tedious six minutes lacks evolution and flair, bridging a gap between Outlaw Country and Tom Waits. Apart from the blunder, The Bad Seeds maintain a steadiness amidst Nick Cave's shaky and volatile state. That flexibility typically parallels itself to the success of their albums, as I'd slot this alongside Tender Prey, but still behind Kicking Against The Pricks (like I said, I'm a sucker for the Gospel) and Your Funeral ... My Trial. Overall a fine album that, to a fan whose endured their music ever since The Birthday Party, struggles to surprise.
B-
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2010 | Minimal Techno | Listen
SHATTERED CRYSTALS FORMING, THROUGH MAGIC, INTO ONE
Frankly, I was expecting more. After stumbling on Pantha du Prince's 2020 release Conference Of Trees, a delicate and organic journey in environmental Electronic, Black Noise seems like a perfunctory letdown. Throughout the 70 minutes, Prince refuses to stray from his narrow niche that melds foreign percussion with ethereal landscapes. That is, excluding the obligatory and wholly unnecessary Ambient section 'Im Bann.' Everything else adheres to the same formula, one that was engrossing on 'Lay In A Shimmer,' but exhausting come 'Es Schneit.' There's just no versatility in tempo, pacing, structure, artistry, or sound, save for the choice inclusion of Panda Bear on 'Stick To My Side,' an odd though welcome diversion. But even that song, the production sterilizes into a locked groove with minimal deviation, hardly singular from the rest of Black Noise's flock, which makes Noah Lennox's appearance all the more perplexing. If 'Stick To My Side' could handle Trance-like psychedelic vocals, and the production bears no discernible differences from its brethren, then why couldn't the rest of the LP? Many of these songs, like 'Abglanz' and 'A Nomad's Retreat,' feel dry without them.
As for comparisons, Clark's Microhouse appears every so often, best seen on 'Satellite Snyper,' while The Field's predictable patterns and nuanced textures arise everywhere. Besides the foreign elements, not surprising given Prince's German routes, Black Noise really offers little in the way of originality in the Minimal Techno discipline. Is it pretty? Yes. Atmospherically-engrossing? Sure. Memorable, especially in regards to singular tracks? Not in the least.
C-
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