CD's I still haven't listened to: Part Six (?)

Biirdie- Catherine Avenue

An endorsement by Spin of all things? Well, that’s likely to give something another chance. See, I didn’t bother listening to this until Spin give it the two thumbs up, so I guess buying it is useful for something other than secretly giving Rolling Stone the finger

Although a caveat, since these folks don’t even have a wikipedia (what year is this?) I shall be flying solo on this one (sorry…that’s the only one, I promise.).

Catherine Avenue is as much a love letter (or at least a Dear John) to Los Angeles as Biirdie themselves are to the music of Southern Califoria. Although CSNY (Estelle) and mid Fleetwood Mac (Him) comparisons are inevitable, it also takes its cue from other 80’s icons. The sparsely psychedelic Who Were You Thinkin’ Of takes much of its melodic inspiration-

from The Traveling Wilburys Last Night. Meanwhile the opening Catherine Avenue takes its form from a poppier Bright Eyes- confessional warble and proving it’s just as likely to break standards as it is to sing of broken hearts. Avant-Garde philosophies regarding song times aren’t always a good thing though, and I’m Going to Tell You Something meanders for three minutes before the –admittedly catchy- song truly starts.

Wilco- Yankee Hotel Foxtrot

For all the dissonant noises and extended noodling sessions, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is still a Wilco record- just given a shiny new coat of florescent paint. The whole record smacks of growing pains and superficial bells and whistles over a CD’s that’s still more rock than anything else. In fact, the biggest change comes from songsmith Jeff Tweedy, who makes the switch from Alt-Country Troubadour to Indie Rock mastermind with disturbing ease. Although the broken hearts and country ballads are still there, they’re under a new direction, with Tweedy enunciating his thoughts into starkly beautiful lyrics. It’s hard to think of Ashes of American Flags being on any of his previous country orientated works. Always underutilized, the sonic toppings make it harder for Tweedy’s lyrics to be totally realized, let alone appreciated. It’s a sad fact that his lyrics will probably always be better when taken away from Wilco’s music (seriously, go and look at the lyrics for You Are My Face, the man is a genius

The firmly facetious Heavy Metal Drummer is a hazy throwback to a time that may not have actually existed, and probably the biggest departure from Wilco’s traditional sound. The more minimalist songs are as laid back as Wilco ever gets- Jesus Etc is like a Valium induced trip through breakups ville.

M. Ward

It’s tough to think of an angle with M Ward, the man seems just so low key. The thing making him hard to write about is the same thing that makes his minor key collections of folk songs so endearing.

Whilst other indie rock compadres (such as Bright Eyes) may go on stage intoxicated and wax faux political, Ward seems happy to talk through parables- a wonderfully quaint (and effective) notion. However, unlike other dotingly fragile songwriters Ward rarely whispers confessionals, instead singing more like a testosterone enhanced Conor Orberst.

The strengths of his discography (but especially End Of Amnesia) make him close to being a living Elliott Smith (although lacking his pop sensibility), Ward makes his mark with tracks like Carolina, a brilliant and typical (himself) tale of self discovery through America. Always wistfully melancholy, Ward’s lyrics would be best thing about the CD if he wasn’t such a talented musician.

Throughout End of Amnesia Ward implies that he’s more a guitarist than his indie credentials would suggest- no three chord slugfests here. Flamenco influences abound, perhaps an inkling of an indie Steve Howe? Psalm in particular suggest that is the case, and elsewhere Color of Water sounds a little like a thoughtful cover of John Mayer’s Stop This Train.

With Grey’s Anatomy style soundtracks making pensive acoustic songs as popular as Elliott Spitzer in a strip club, one has to wonder why Ward isn’t more popular; he seems to have everything going for him.

Maybe the fact that he does seem blessed is perhaps the answer to why he isn’t being played over a montage of Meredith crying and giving some odd and obtuse explanation. Wow, long sentence.

The National- Boxer

It’s hard to find a new angle regarding The Boxer- it was hanging off the shoulder of every music critic last year, so the best that I can do is just point to reviews and nod enthusiastically in the direction of more authoritative opinions.

Sounding like one would have envisioned a full band Iron and Wine sounding like pre Shepards Dog, Boxer is equal parts old time American music and new age mope fest. But instead of Sam Beam’s whisper thin voice and guitar the albums the dark atmosphere is created by multilayered piano tracks and deep baritone. Musically it’s an engaging slice of American nostalgia that never even thinks of digressing from the game plan- oddly enough this predictability give the album the perfect base to work from.
In fact, the voice of singer Matt Berninger is probably the biggest caveat of the Record.
Sometimes so warm that it probably boiled the juices that it was stewed in (don’t ask), other times it sounds painfully monotone.
Racing Like a Pro where his voice is best, is an equal parts sympathetic and rebuking look at someone who misses better days. But in Mistaken For Strangers , he derides one for being boring, whist being the sonic equivalent of Jim Lehrer on a copious dose of Valium.