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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Who knew Mikko Joensuu founded a Shoegaze band nearly half a decade prior to his ambitious, genre-spanning Amen trilogy. Not I. Knowing him, and all that he aspires to, Joensuu 1685 was sure to be artistically-rich and driven primarily by passion. That's exactly what we find here, though overt parallels to Spiritualized and Jesus & Mary Chain prevent unfettered praise since originality seems to be a premium. Still, the styles that assimilate under Joensuu 1685's roof are to be admired, as elongated passages such as the shifty Krautrock of 'Nothingness' and the celestial Neo-Psychedelia of 'Perfect Grace' implore inquisition. There's so much polish under their rousing, Wall of Sound weight, providing substance where most Shoegaze acts choose not to fill that void. Take 'Baby, Baby, Baby' - one of two clear J&MC influences ('Sick City' being the other) - where a wild, off-the-rails harmonica joins under the fray of seething, borderline Harsh Noise. Or 'Gamma-Minus Machine Minder,' a simple acoustic interlude turned tormented dissection where transformation is found even under the most incompatible circumstances.
In fact, the word transformation kept coming back to me on Joensuu 1685, as pacing and structural fluidity reigns supreme. This is best seen from 'Crystal Light' into 'Electric Ocean Sailor,' where Joensuu undergoes an acidic baptism reflecting on his sins and past transgressions. It's the album's most creative endeavor, by far, and promised a rebirth for the second half, due entirely to a gorgeous dirge. Unfortunately, 'Sick City's' straight-and-narrow Noise Rock cut that to an abrupt end. And with the bookended 'Brighter Than Light,' 'Perfect Grace' projecting as slighter dimmer variations on Spiritualized's entire aesthetic, Joensuu 1685 struggle to differentiate themselves amongst their mentors. But damn, if these songs aren't killer.
B
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If it wasn't obvious with Traumnovelle, it damn sure is now; Coin Locker Kid is obsessed with relishing in the conceptual. Typically, this would be right up my alley. Salmon Of Doubt presents a litany of abnormalities you aren't likely to find anywhere else, even in the creative landscape of Experimental Hip-Hop such as it is. However, despite his commitment to ideas, passion for illustration, and unburdened interest in ancillary genres, Coin Locker Kid's music essentials are simply lackluster. His lyrics range from mundane to trivial, his vocal presence is clunky and only slightly offset by his nerdish personality, and the grandiose concepts he inhabits fail to muster resounding vindication. Salmon Of Doubt possesses all of these features, both good and bad. It's an interesting project - with a stellar, eight-minute experience captured within - and viewing it from the confines of an art installation will conciliate more than if one were to expect musical fluidity.
I'm of course talking about 'Tinker Creek,' the eight-minute Spoken Word conversation between two text-to-speech robots. It's arguably the only Spoken Word piece I've been legitimately moved by, as fourth walls are broken in favor of paradoxical existential crisis'. The mind melts as one tries to decipher the hidden clues and overarching concepts, naturally relating to the male character as you yourself experience the album he currently resides in. Fascinating doesn't begin to describe it. And unlike some of Coin Locker Kid's other works, including on this very LP ('Alandaluz,' anyone?), 'Tinker Creek' has a succinct, well-executed concept from start to finish. One that verifies anxieties on stepping out of one's comfort zone, pinning the impetus directly on the listener rather than straining a tangential point of view.
The rest of Salmon Of Doubt, by Coin Locker Kid's own Experimental nature, is quite inconsistent. While the 19-minute 'Alandaluz' plays into 'Tinker Creek's finishing send-off, it doesn't capitalize on one's renewed interest with some grand distinction. It just lingers around ideas; unsure and unexacting. Tracks like 'Fools' and 'Exactly Where We Want To Be' reveal Coin Locker Kid's faulty setbacks in regards to lyrics, with vocals that plea for distinction despite having virtually none. However, there are positives beyond 'Tinker Creek.' 'You Want To' is an explosive opener that sets the tone with self-aware lyrics and a casual demeanor, before contorting such disingenuous dialogue for Coin Locker Kid's real psychosis. As for closer 'Together & Alone,' the adorable Art Pop is certainly Salmon Of Doubt's most accessible track, coming out of 'Alandaluz' with renewed positivity and zeal. In a musical sense, it's my favorite, though admittedly on an album composed of likeminded songs, 'Together & Alone' would likely blend into the background. Here, the concept holds it up wearily. And isn't that all what Coin Locker Kid's music is about.
C+
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Understated doesn't begin to describe Stuff Like That There, but it's a good start. Yo La Tengo's 14th LP reeks of self-effacing sheepishness; so small, modest, and demure. It's music for recluses enamored with theatrical concepts of love, yet too afraid to enact romance of their own. There's settings for Indie Pop as straightforward as this, but most lie cloistered in the background without demanding the attention of a discernible ear. Coming especially from Yo La Tengo, a band whose taken apparent simplicities to ambitious heights for the past two decades, Stuff Like That There is an unassuming dud without much to remember. Though I do appreciate their continued effort in making each of their LP's distinctive and demiurgic, as their last three LP's - I Am Not Afraid Of You & I Will Beat Your Ass, Popular Songs, and Fade - pride themselves on idiosyncrasies.
There's not much else here if we're being honest. Cover songs from past traditionalists and Yo La Tengo themselves, stripped down to acoustic homogeneity, with no surprises or detours thrown in. Some, like 'All Your Secrets' and 'Somebody's In Love,' rely on melody more than others, like 'I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry' and 'Before We Stopped To Think,' which imbue preference on songwriting and reductive tenderness. Uniformity is sure-fire, as 'Deeper Into Movies' is the only track here that strives for Yo La Tengo's delicate ambition. Along with 'All Your Secrets,' it stands as my favorite, giving off an ethereal Western vibe that's quite invasive and atmospheric. The rest of Stuff Like That There is pleasurable, but not needed.
D-
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