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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2014 | Future Garage | Listen
GIFTING ALIENS AND ANGELS HUMANITY'S TIME CAPSULE
Rainer Veil is an aesthetic artist. After Struck and now New Brutalism, that much is clear. What does that mean exactly? Well, it's someone who commits heavily to atmosphere-building and the niche depictions within it, rather than primarily focusing on the quality of art. Much of Ambient falls into this realm, and with certain elongated passages like the first half of 'Strangers' and, pardon my cheesiness, the negative space within 'Negative Space' drawing comparisons to Gas, Autechre, and other Ambient Techno artists, that assessment seems apt. It's not necessarily a knock on those who levy style over substance, as others in the realm of Future Garage such as Burial and Andy Stott don't warrant such objections, but more so Rainer Veil's reluctancy and blasé banality when dissecting the urban, late night , rain aesthetic.
New Brutalism's case isn't helped by the fact that the EP's best moment comes in its final three minutes, as 'Run Out' hits stride with palpitating drum breaks, a formidable Techno rhythm, and eloquent dips in and out of consciousness. 'Strangers' also fairs well, with its soft and distant background vocals, hallow strings, and Industrial backbone. Stott's Dub Techno can definitely be felt here. However, the EP's first three songs never demand one's attention. Which, for an aesthetic that stews on dimly-lit city blocks and the hair-raising uneasiness that their obscurity embraces, is kind've a crucial misfire. Tracks like 'UK Will Not Survive' and 'Negative Space' just linger, timidly, around the urban, boilerplate aesthetic without diving in to manifest something new. New Brutalism is a step-down, slightly, due to this. Though the atmosphere is sufficient, the reaction it's meant to elicit just isn't there.
C
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File this under the category of "you had to be there." Without that context, Minecraft's critically-acclaimed soundtrack falters under the weight of desolation. Having never played the game, the stray piano plucks, dawdling strings, and bouts of indiscriminate silence leave the same impact on me as most Impressionist music does: None. There's a distinct lack of substance, even by Ambient's paltry standards, and without an operative world-building environment to enrich one's curiosity to carry on, an experience of Volume Alpha outside of such context feels wholly unnecessary. At numerous points I had to check if the album was even still playing, for tracks like 'Living Mice,' 'Excuse,' or 'Beginning' feature such quiet, noninvasive string arrangements that its very point of existence is drawn into question.
Similarities, both in style and conditions, can be heard in the soundtracks for The Sims and Animal Crossing, two games I have labored enjoyably over for years. And thus, despite their similar lack of substance, that perpetual level of engagement has spurred a greater appreciation in my heart. Which is why I firmly believe I'd enjoy C418's work more if Minecraft was held in equal regard. There are some noteworthy moments, like the sparkling middle of 'Moog City,' the prancing jaunt of 'Mice On Venus,' the sudden Progressive Electronic of 'Chris,' or the twin Lo-Fi Hip-Hop beats of 'Droopy Likes Ricochet' and 'Droopy Likes Your Face;' the only two of their kind on Volume Alpha. As for the frequent Impressionism compositions, only the title track feels composed enough for praise. Its duration helps, but not more than the tranquil build it evokes along the way. Beyond those select moments, I can't say I enjoyed Minecraft's soundtrack. The barren landscapes, half-hearted ideas, and general unfamiliarity cause Volume Alpha to falter in my eyes. About as much as any run-of-the-mill Ambient release.
D-
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2011 | Noise Pop | Listen
MOUNTAIN DEW, PS2, AND CHORES COLD-SHOULDERED
Will Toledo, you magnificent bastard. It's a rare moment where I can say, with absolute certainty, that the best run on this album stretches from track one to track eleven. One year after putting Car Seat Headrest into gear, revving up with each ensuing numbered album, Noise Pop perfection has been reached. Explosive, charismatic, and endlessly replayable, My Back Is Killing Me Baby is a ricocheting joy of teenage angst and soda pop-fueled spontaneity. There's only one song, 'No Passion,' that I'd deem below average. Everything else continues in some way, shape, or form. Be it, the connecting tissue of 'The Drum' and 'Open-Mouthed Boy,' the disorienting, cocktease structuring of 'Happy News For Sadness,' or the momentous rendezvous of inner demons at the end of 'Strangers,' My Back Is Killing Me never slouches in terms of memorable moments.
Perhaps most impressive of all is Toledo's ability to create such iconic set pieces despite the limited range of his Lo-Fi gunk. Sonically, these songs don't vary much at all. From their brethren, or Car Seat Headrest's past affairs on 3 and 4. It's the structuring, the lyrical volatility, the impassioned pleas of help both internal and external, that guide My Back Is Killing Me towards ascension. That, and the undeniably-gooey riffs, everlasting melodies, and catchy hooks. As a key role in my nostalgic reimagining of my childhood, the emergence of a popular Hey Arnold episode in 'Stoop Kid' instantly returned me to those lost, adolescent summer's with not a care in the world. And this was a decade before I knew Noise Pop was a thing. As my personal favorite (by mere inches over the encroaching flock of 'Drum,' 'Happy News For Sadness,' 'Something Soon,' and 'P.O.W.'), 'Stoop Kid's' cornucopia of riffs, rife with engulfing substance, an overwhelming sonic glee offset by Toledo's aging indecisiveness, strikes right for the soul.
In fact, much of My Back Is Killing Me does, whether directly or indirectly. The sounds decry an early 2000's summer vacation, erupting with the same uncontrollable sugar rush as seen on Nickelodeon game shows like Double Dare. Green slime to the face, anyone? Toledo's brand of Lo-Fi Indie stretches extremities for the sake of reaching extremes, slyly twisting Nickelodeon's over-the-top, in-your-face, preteen-absorbing saturation of stuff into a defiant, musical aesthetic. Topped with a dollop of suburbia anxiety, spurred by trivial complacency only purported after irksome lawn cleaning, mundane cereal box reading, and cries to God to put a stop to his plant-watering. As a suburbanite who took his content adolescence for granted, My Back Is Killing Me, Baby's effective inconsequentiality is beauty disguised as music.
A-
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