Pop – Page 5 – Rock Salted

Neko Case – Blacklisted

Neko Case – Blacklisted Bloodshot BS 099 (2002)

Blacklisted is a dark album. It’s was a new direction Case is heading into, and she knew it. The loneliness of this new position is evident. There isn’t much musical idolatry here, though she keeps one eye fixed on the past. Her stories chronicle things witnesses and remembered, observed tidbits pulled together to form the songs.

Neko Case has changed quite a bit since Furnace Room Lullaby. Her songwriting is that much more isolated. Her sense of humor scarcely surfaces. A weariness seems to have taken hold long before the songs took shape. Now a passion for something timeless is her calling card.

The songs are a mixture of jagged lyrics and smooth sounds, with lyrics so ragged and blunt that listeners come away bruised. Case has moved into somewhat more traditional country arrangements performed with small, eclectic combos. Her lyrics, however, stand opposed to traditional subjects. Blacklisted eschews “heartbroken woman” themes. Her best outings, “Wish I Was the Moon” and “Ghost Writing” among them, are deeply personal. Yet even at her most confessional, her songs remain framed in the Americana she adores. This isn’t a new way to write music, but it’s a fresh approach for Neko. While still one to romanticize the ways of lonely scoundrels, she employs a different kind of drama than in the past. Of course, honesty isn’t always the best policy. The truth can border the mundane. So there’s a danger built into her craft. It would be nice to say she has the situation under control at all times. That isn’t the case. But it’s better to have Neko overexposed on record than obscured.

On Blacklisted, Neko’s delivery doesn’t have much immediacy. Still, she is reaching. But for what? Unfortunately this was the first step towards capitulation to the mundane and banal aspects of indie rock that would garner her more commercial success over the next 5-10 years. This one is medicore at best, and pales in comparison to Furnace Room Lullaby.

Grimes – Art Angels

Grimes – Art Angels 4AD EAD3535A (2015)

Yes! After the successful left-field electronic album Visions, Grimes (b. Claire Boucher) returned three years later with an album that managed to retain all the strangeness from before plus add catchy pop hooks, synthesizing those incongruous elements just about perfectly. These songs have everything, and more. They have deep layers, multiple structural shifts within given songs, and stylistic variation across all of the songs. The best part about Grimes’ wide musical interests is the way she is entirely unapologetic in jumping from one thing that intrigues her to another, as if there are no limits and nothing that can stop her. So she goes from a squeaky J-pop voice to growling death metal scream, then back. And yet, another great thing about Art Angels is the dark and sinister undertone to most of the songs, despite the cheery melodic hooks. “California” has the lines: “When you get bored of me / I’ll be back on the shelf.” The dominant economics of contemporary times preaches a market fundamentalism that admits to no compassion, no safe place, no loyalty; the market picks a winner, who gets all the spoils, then just as quickly there is a new winner and the old one is forgotten. So maybe “California” is a relationship song, but might it be closer to metaphor? Then take a look at “Kill V. Maim,” a sarcastic feminist drubbing of machismo, violence and war. “Flesh Without Blood” is just completely devastating. There is a loose, rubbery, almost surf guitar riff floating around, fuzzed bass and insistent drums with handclap breaks. The lyrics are about artistic integrity and lost love seen in hindsight as never having “really” been love at all — both these things are worked into the same song. The tenor of it all is a search for a transcendental state of unconditional love (a very christian concept worth having around). “Artangels,” “SCREAM” and “Venus Fly” are some other great songs here. But everything on the album is pretty good. There are no dull moments.

Bridget St John – Songs for the Gentle Man

Bridget St John – Songs for the Gentle Man Dandelion DAN 8007 (1971)

Bridget St. John’s Songs for the Gentle Man is frequently compared to a number of other folk/rock artists of the late 1960s and early 70s. The most common is that she sounds like a combination of Nico and Nick Drake. Others cite Judy Collins‘ work with Joshua Rifkin on albums like In My Life. One could even throw in Vashti Bunyan. The Nico comparison is mostly right with respect to tone and timbre of their voices, especially when comparing Nico’s debut album Chelsea Girl. Both had a husky, deep voice; hardly identical, but Nico is still the closest comparison among reasonably well-known folk/rock singers of the era. Nick Drake combined folk and orchestral arrangements, but he had a surprisingly different approach, with melancholy that is scarcely present with St. John — it’s a somewhat strained comparison. Judy Collins is the most important reference point. She pioneered a type of folk that was kind of the obverse of Joan Baez. Baez made music that combined bel canto singing (with shrill, heavy vibrato) with homespun folk guitar playing. Collins instead used elements of showtunes to shape a singing voice that was still based in homespun folk music, then added refined Euro-classical orchestration (by Rifkin). The problem was that Rifkin was inconsistent, and, sorry to say, operating somewhat at or beyond the limit of his abilities. St. John took a similar baroque sensibility, through orchestration by Ron Geesin and John Henry, and applied it over homespun (yet adept) vocals and guitar. Unlike Baez, who often seemed to compromise the folk elements to the dictates of established operatic pop forms, St. John (like Collins) tries to keep each sphere intact. The strings add sophistication without diminishing the expressiveness of the vocals. And the arrangements and orchestration on Songs for the Gentle Man are uniformly excellent. This style of orchestrated folk would slip away in a few years, as the rock music came to dominate folk music. Then the approaches of Paul Buckmaster (with Shawn Phillips, etc.) and Tony Visconti (with T.REX, etc.) would make similar strides in combining orchestration with rock, albeit in a very different way.

Speaking about the song “City-Crazy,” St. John said that she “sometimes felt not ‘stop the world I want to get off’ but ‘slow the world down, I want to stay on!'” It reflects the entire album as much as that one song. This interest in a slower pace of life is a bit like Vashti Bunyan’s musical portrayal of radical rural simplicity. But St. John has a more urban sensibility, just slower than the bustle of actually existing urban life.

Songs for the Gentle Man was not a revolutionary album, but it took ideas that were percolating in the folk/rock scene and perfected them. This is not a particularly immediate album. It may take a few listens to appreciate fully. But there are few better listening choices for a bright summer morning or afternoon (this is definitely not nighttime listening material).

Van Dyke Parks – Song Cycle

Van Dyke Parks – Song Cycle Warner Bros. WS 1727 (1967)

Van Dyke Parks is a notable fringe figure to fans of oddball pop music. He was associated with a number of popular and notable artists, like The Beach Boys, Harry Nilsson, Frank Sinatra, Ringo Starr, John Cale, Joanna Newsom, etc. He works out of Los Angeles, and in that barren wasteland of serious culture, he was always an eccentric standout. He never really had any widespread popularity as a solo artist, but his contributions to popular works by others (The Beach Boys and Joanna Newsom loom large here) are probably why most who have heard of him know about him at all.

Song Cycle is less a work of popular music than it is composed “classical” music in the spirit of Charles Ives, who blended Euro-classical, hymns, folk, pop and more into idiosyncratic and innovative compositions. Parks simply updates the pop culture reference points — somewhat. He also draws from Tim Pan Alley, ragtime, vaudeville, bluegrass, marches, and an assortment of old-timey musical forms long since passed from popular favor. There is particular emphasis on the music of the Great Depression era, and all things uniquely American, especially Californian. This was an anti-Anglophile stance in the midst of the so-called “British Invasion” period. It also took high-brow forms of composition and places them into service of more low-brow forms. It was a serious approach to un-serious music. Parks adopts cliché/kitsch but re-contextualizes it, in an approach highly similar (in form, though not in substance) to that of the tropicalistas in Brazil around the same time. It is something of a natural — if impertinent — way to try to break out of imposed restrictions.

The characteristic Parks song jumps from one style to the next, emphasizing the cuts, contrasts and juxtapositions as much as any of the disparate styles he adopts. Any one approach hardly lasts more than a few seconds, before there is some kind of transition to something else. But as to those styles, there are many, and he’s obviously a good student of all of them. He’s even better at deftly making the transitions between the varied passages into something that doesn’t seem completely unnerving — a little perhaps, but that is entirely intentional and necessary, even, to giving this an impact. Yet for all the formal objectives and technical aptitude, Parks saves plenty of room for humor. Usually that gets lost in a work this complex and difficult to execute.

This was a lavishly produced album — the budget was more than three times what was typically allotted to a pop album at the time. Though it sat for about a year before the record label released it, and then commercially it was a flop. Many listeners fault Parks’ vocals, which aren’t much of an attraction but also aren’t entirely bad. The other frequent complaints would be coyness, lack of prettiness, willful over-complexity, ostentatious-ness, impenetrability, messiness, … this list goes on. Song Cycle may well be all those things. But it also is a very bold in its experimentation and earnest in its admiration for its sources of influence, trying to accomplish a lot without becoming arrogant. As Parks later said in an interview, “You can exalt what is humble.”

For sheer daring ambition, there aren’t all that many albums of the era (or any others) quite like this. In fact, probably the most inspiring thing about the album is how absolutely unlikely and improbable it was and is. It would be wrong to call this a perfect album. But, looking back, it is one that was headed in a good direction, even if few followed along.

Beyoncé – Beyoncé

Beyoncé – Beyoncé Columbia 88843032522 (2013)

This album is an excellent encapsulation of contemporary pop music. The first thing that stands out is how capital-intensive this music is. In other words, it takes a tremendous amount of resources (capital) to make an album this finely layered, refined and varied. Rather than one producer crafting many of the backing tracks across the whole album, there is an army of producers, songwriters and musicians. Most singers could never summon the resources to make an album that way (Public Enemy‘s Most of My Heroes Still Don’t Appear on No Stamp is an exception that proves the rule, fueled by artistic credibility — and associated crowdfunding — rather than the largest bank account). The eclecticism is stunning. Some songs are in the style of electronic dance music, others like vintage Prince, or more recent D’Angelo.

What this album stands for is the “mogul” mentality, that the world needs big-shot moguls who are better than everyone else. In a way, this is the ultimate (and most seductive) way of promoting collaboration with or resignation to the demands of the powerful cabal that controls the major institutions of society. No, that is not meant as some sort of conspiracy theory. Instead it means that the society in which Beyoncé was released is very polarized and unequal, and the repeated message across the album is that if you accept the dictates of the moguls then maybe you too can become one someday — like winning the lottery, this requires that many, many others lose, and discussions about the hardships of the winners say nothing of the hardships of the losers. In an interesting way, the repeated interludes (like Beyoncé as a kid on the “Star Search” TV show) and the “it’s hard to live up to expectations to be pretty as a woman” theme make a cynical capitulation. Rather than reject the social demands to be “pretty”, or reject the system that creates moguls by creating dire poverty and widespread insecurity, this kind of just shrugs that off and declares there is no alternative; just develop a coping strategy to accept it and deal with it. This expresses the “survivor” mentality of a psychotic culture.

As reviewer Andrew Johnson wrote:

“Of course, the thing about this album is that it’s the ultimate undisputed-queen-of-pop power move, released as it was with no advance press, in the middle of the night on iTunes with no one driving it but Beyonce herself (and well, obviously her husband, but we won’t begrudge her that). Beyonce is in a position now that she doesn’t need anything but herself, and the musical result is an album that feels completely liberated: ‘Yonce indulging every filthy impulse she has, adorning beats that are dark and not explicitly radio-seeking, dictating that things are going to go her way, at least for the next 67 minutes. She’s got the best producers and songwriters alive working with her here and the guest list for features is the very top tier in the hip-hop world, but no one can take the spotlight away from Bey here. She’s a big enough figure now that she can carry a top-selling album on nothing but reputation alone and if her musical accomplishments never seemed to meet that stature before, well now she’s fixing that.”

But the real trick here is that she may be “liberated” and in charge, but only because she is following the dictates of big-business entertainment and endorsing the “mogul” view of the world. She still reiterates the precepts of reactionary “social darwinist” theory

In spite of any misgivings about the premise of the album, it is a marvel. There is practically a flawless delivery. The pure craftsmanship is stunning. And the beats are absorbing. Beyoncé is not an especially captivating singer on her own, but she more than lives up to everything these songs demand. Certainly this is a collaborative effort, but she also emerges as someone nominally in charge of the proceedings.

I was pleasantly surprised at how good this album was. I do retain the same general misgivings as I had for Taylor Swift‘s 1989. Beyoncé is a more evolved album though. It concedes something to cynicism, even as it reaffirms something very similar to what Swift promotes (with denial in place of cynicism). But this does carry more baggage and internal contradictions than it lets on. Still, when the beats get going this is hard to argue with. In an effort to be open-minded, I listened to a Britney Spears best-of collection, and there the simplistic, even crude brushstrokes seemed to lack the detail and extreme talent brought to bear on Beyoncé. Frankly, the Spears stuff was terrible. So this is really one of the finest examples of mainstream pop music of its era.

Paul Robeson – A Robeson Recital of Popular Favorites

Paul Robeson – A Robeson Recital of Popular Favorites Columbia Masterworks 732 (1948)

All show tunes and orchestral pop. Robeson’s vocals are nothing short of great. Yet the rather generic orchestral backing does a disservice to the music. It’s worth noting that on this version of “Ol’ Man River” Robeson has changed (and improved) the lyrics.

Willie Nelson – Let’s Face the Music and Dance

Willie Nelson and Family – Let’s Face the Music and Dance Legacy 88765425852 (2013)

If you have followed Willie Nelson’s later career — and before his surprise hit Band of Brothers you probably haven’t — he has continued to shuffle between styles. The occasional effort sounds a little more contemporary, but plenty look back to old-time western swing and early 20th Century pop, and sometimes jazz. Let’s Face the Music and Dance is a grab bag. The title track is an easy listening version of the sound from arguably Willie’s best late-career album, the austere Tex-Mex album Spirit. “Is the Better Part Over” is yet another re-visitation of one of his old songs (from the late 1980s effort A Horse Called Music). Most of the standards here seem to build on his American Classic, but with his regular touring band providing more country flavor than the jazz combos of that earlier effort. Not surprisingly, the best here is “You’ll Never Know,” with Willie’s not-so-secret weapon his sister Bobbie featured prominently on piano. This one is par for the course for Willie’s august years and hardly a standout, but it is more proof, if any more was needed, that he’s still not finished yet.

Nick Drake – Five Leaves Left

Nick Drake – Five Leaves Left Island ILPS 9105 (1969)

Nick Drake’s debut album Five Leaves Left was a rather unique recording that didn’t seem enmeshed in any sort of widespread movement. Fans often remark that his music seemed to come from “nowhere”. He never achieved much commercial success before his early death, partly due to his limited efforts to tour or promote his recordings. Still, his renown has grown tremendously since his death. Nick Drake is the sort of musician who came along ahead of of more widespread efforts to render a feeling of failed promise, which is to say failure to live up to potential. This is very inward-looking artistry. Extroverts may appreciate Drake from a distance without really warming to him more intimately. His music is somewhat elitist. Its lyrics are informed by the sort of poetry studied in “classics” courses in elite universities, and the orchestral treatments and delicate guitar playing (Drake was an impressive guitarist) pay homage to Euro-classical compositions. Yet these are pop songs, which underscores the way the music has a familiarity with highbrow culture but turns away from it, if only slightly. It is the devastating earnestness of Drake’s songwriting and performances that keeps this from being pretentious. This album leans toward the counterculture, but from a privileged place that manages to satisfy every criterion of dominant culture. More than anything, that was Drake’s real achievement. He managed to hold together seemingly incompatible forms in a way that never for a second seems like a juxtaposition at all. The stark, flawless Pink Moon may well be Drake’s finest album, but Five Leaves Left is great too, and hardly a step back at all (saying so is a matter of splitting hairs).

Scott Walker – We Had It All

Scott Walker – We Had It All CBS 80254 (1974)

While Stretch hinted at a country sound, the follow-up Any Day Now fully invests in it. But the result is something less interesting. Walker proves ill-suited to much of the material here. “The Black Rose”, for instance, with the lyrics Well, the devil made it do it the first time/ the second time I done it on my own, just seems ridiculous coming out of his mouth. “Sundown” and “Delta Dawn” are perhaps reasonable offerings, but, by and large, this album is a low point in Walker’s catalog. It is consistently uninspired. Scott puts too little effort into this. At best, it’s adequately performed.

The Walker Brothers – Nite Flights

The Walker Brothers – Nite Flights GTO GTLP 033 (1978)

What to make of this? The first four cuts are by Scott Walker, and they are pretty good — especially “The Electrician,” which is an unclassifiable melange of gothic classical, pop crooning, rock and more. The rest of the album borders on the unlistenable. Nothing balances out in the end.