"Breaking" news (or, "this band, Smashing Pumpkins, is awesome")

Smashing Pumpkins knew their shit. If there's ever been a band that could truly represent modern rock 'n' roll as a movement, it's gotta be them. I mean, they've got it all, from the massively distorted power chords and screaming solo parts topped off with heavy metal-influenced beats that are too loud to miss, to the perfectly clean notes that echo around between your ears and pull you into some trance-like dream world of music. No one else captures these wide-ranging sounds rock and incorporates them quite so perfectly.

What's more, Smashing Pumpkins has the attitude, something that's mostly noticed in Billy Corgan's vocals, despite the in-your-face guitar work. He, like the instrumentals he sings with, can switch back-and-forth effortlessly from grainy quasi-screams to light, melodic chanting.

It's hard to understand how a band that starts an album with a sentimental piano song like "Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness" can shortly transition to a song like "Jellybelly" that's got the same exact rock qualities as Queens of the Stone Age. Smashing Pumpkins can pull it off, although I'll admit my preference still lies mostly in the basic tracks that only feature two guitars, a bass, and drums.

A disappointing amount of modern rock outfits can't make anything of their sound with just these simple ingredients. The more mainstream groups only incorporate the most generic power chord progressions, simple drum beats, and almost unnoticeable bass riffs––it's boring. Others add in so much electronic noise, bells, and keyboarding that the excess sound actually suffocates those original core instruments.

Obviously, these things can be done tastefully and in interesting combinations: bands like Radiohead have a huge reliance on electronics, and there's no denying that Thom Yorke is a genius; Wilco's "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot" is one of my favorite albums, partially because of its use of synthesized overlays. On the other end of the spectrum, I think bands like The Strokes, who began their career on "Is This It?" with almost only power chords in their arsenal, are equally evolved––The Who, Hendrix, and Led Zeppelin took the beginnings of rock 'n' roll and transformed the genre into an assaulting array of sound.

Smashing Pumpkins is unique because they attempt to incorporate the best of both worlds and actually pull it off. "Geek USA" from "Siamese Dream" has all the ingredients of a stunning rock tune, and then you turn on "Cupid De Locke" from "Mellon Collie" and it sounds like a collaboration with Japanese experimental/electronica artist, Cornelius. There are no gaps; nothing left uncovered. The band just plain rocks. End of story
Yeah. They rock that hard.

An example of when being wrong is right

About a month prior to the May 15, 2007 release of Wilco's most recent album, "Sky Blue Sky," I received a copy of it. Even though the mp3's had been streamed on their own site, I planned to buy the album when it actually came out, along with a special edition DVD including footage of the band's new lineup playing various songs from the album.


Unfortunately, I wasn't so keen on the album when I first heard it, and it wasn't until May 16 that I decided to buckle down and actually buy, listen to, and enjoy Wilco's truly massive talent. This worked partially: I developed a more concrete taste for it by drawing comparisons to my favorite classic rock bands/artists like the Allman Brothers Band (who I saw a lot of in this CD), Bob Dylan (in "What Light"), etc.

But still, I didn't see "Sky Blue Sky" as Wilco; there were a lot of holes. Songs like "Impossible Germany" were melodically and instrumentally brilliant, but the vocals that were paired with them were relatively unenlightened for a band that has consistently floored me.

Today, though, I watched the companion DVD for the first time, and was actually incredibly happy when I discovered that it includes multiple interviews with Jeff Tweedy as well as the band's other members. And in retrospect, I'm even happier. Listening to these dialogues gave me a new sense of hope for the album, and assigned it a fresh identity in my mind. I'm listening to it right now, and I can finally see all of the little aspects of it that make it undeniably Wilco.

Watching the band members play together in The Loft had the same sort of affect on me that listening to live clips of "A Ghost is Born" did––it reaffirmed the band's ability and assigned a face to the album that instantly made it more real, and expanded my understanding of it immensely.

I've always had this theory about Wilco (even before reading/hearing/seeing any sort of actual statements on the matter) that its members care about the music they make, and everything else kind of comes about as a byproduct––popularity's great when you're trying to make a living playing music, but with Wilco's albums, the main goal always sounded like it was the music itself. That's why I liked them to begin with, and seeing that concept in action on screen only makes me like them even more.

The condensed version of a review I wrote of Wilco's "Sky Blue Sky" appeared in Thursday, May 24's News-Gazette in the Spin-Off section. The original will most likely be posted here relatively shortly.

Sunken Treasure

Earlier this year, I was able to see Jeff Tweedy (lead singer/vocalist and frontman for the popular indie band, Wilco) at Foellinger Auditorium perform solo with an acoustic guitar, a mic, and a spotlight.

For you readers out there who don't actually know me, Wilco is my absolute favorite band; Jeff Tweedy is a man I love and worship, whose bare feet I would gladly kiss if I could be so privileged. Maybe not...the point is, I'm pretty into the guy, and I would be at major risk of soiling myself if I were less than ten feet away from him in a room.

So it's no surprise that my mind was blown into millions of little pieces even though I wasn't startlingly close to Tweedy––unlike at the My Morning Jacket show later this year at the same venue where their lead, Jim James, almost hit me in the face with his guitar.

After the show, I began searching for Tweedy solo tracks. None. All I found was a minute-long preview for his DVD, "Sunken Treasure," advertised with a clip from the song..."Sunken Treasure." It captivated me and hadn't loosened its grasp on my soul in the slightest, until earlier this week when I began looking for the whole clip via Youtube.

Lucky for me, my good friend Ryan Carlson happened to get onto Gmail chat right at this very moment, and he (being the musical genius he is) sent me the track. It's tears at my heart in the best way possible. Hearing that song would be good enough on its own, but its significance was increased infinitely by the fact that:

a.) I'd wanted this song for months and I finally had acquired it.
b.) My speakers are amazing. The song came through so crisply that it sounded live. Seriously.

On the way back from the Six Flags trip my senior class just took, I listened to it. It was night, on a charter bus, driving through the country––the perfect setting for this variety of Tweedy. But then again, what isn't the perfect setting for that variety of Tweedy? Pretty much nowhere. Turns out Tweedy was wrong when he sang, "there is no sunken treasure"––that line alone is gold.

I'm sorry for the break

I've been completely unable to post recently with all the stresses of finishing my high school career. My plan is to start back up during the summer and work on this blog a fair amount. I also hope to be working at Exile on Main St. (the local record store here), but that's still just a distant dream...

In any case, I have two things to say, each of which with points:

1.) Yesterday, I turned eighteen. As an homage to Bill Sutton's (my US history teacher) obsession with singing "I'm Eighteen" by Alice Cooper, I played this song, and realized that, in fact, it isn't terrible, and the main guitar riff is actually incredibly catchy and downright cool. Actually, for some reason, it reminds me of "Black Dog" by Led Zeppelin...don't ask me why, I think that's just because I played that yesterday as well.

2.) I also purchased "Sensuous" by Cornelius, an amazing Japanese solo-artist who was once signed to Matador Records. I've only listened to this a little bit, but I already like it––Cornelius is great at coming up with crazy guitar parts mixed with strange electronic instrumentals (although he could never compare to Dan Deacon in this regard). I also got "Dolittle" by the Pixies finally, and I believe it's safe to say that while I was not completely unfamiliar with it before popping it into my computer, I still think it's one of the best albums I've heard in a while, which was somehow a surprise to my ears.

BONUS: 3.) My sister got me the Criterion DVD with the complete footage of Monterey Pop. I've seen some of the big concerts already, of course (The Who, Hendrix, the Mamas and Papas, Big Brother and the Holding Company, etc.), but hell...it's awesome as fuck to actually own this stuff––amazing.

Okay, there was something else I wanted to say, but by now, I've already completely forgotten it. Again, I'll have a few blog posts over the next few weeks, maybe, but I won't be back into the groove, as it were, until the school year finally ends. Until then, keep on keepin' on.

-Jono

There are lyrics I remember

Sometimes, I get random, undeniable urges to listen to very specific songs––tonight, it was "There Are Places I Remember," by none other than The Beatles.
I don't know if it's the controversy over a recent Gargoyle senior staff editorial (located here), or an exceptionally tiring week of school, but I felt somewhat blue until this song popped into my brain and said, "play me, Jono––I'm the perfect blend of a strong, but laid-back beat, smooth Beatles lyrics and vocals, mellow guitar, and a simple message of love." And so I did.
My brain hit the mark. Sometimes listening to something like The Who's "My Generation" medley from "Live at Leeds" puts me back into the mood with its energizing instrumental and vocal combinations (the Who's members were all masters and at the top of their game, and their meshed aptitude is what makes The Who so incredible, especially in their live recordings, which do an amazing job of unleashing their sheer power) and intense rock 'n' roll, underground attitude.
Other nights, I might slap some electronica (Prefuse 73 or DJ Shadow, for instance) onto my iTunes and start tapping out the rhythms, dancing––I even try human beatboxing on occasion...usually I'm alone. But tonight, something mellow was the perfect pick-me-up. It carried me away gently from a slightly depressed and somber mood and placed me in a new mindset; a positive mindset that didn't demand I felt upset.
And while "There Are Places I Remember" lifted me out of my initial rut, the next song that came onto my computer's speakers actually pulled me over the threshold into a good mood––"Poor Places" by Wilco, which is my favorite band for a reason.
This song says, "summer" to me. It begins fairly thinly, with Jeff Tweedy's lyrics accompanied only by a low-volume beeping that's reminiscent of the last rays of a late summer evening's setting sun in Champaign; the heat's finally dying down, the cicadas are calling out, and there's a sense of completeness and perfection in the still humid air.
But then, instead of dying out like the day gives way to night, the delicate and intricate pairing of Tweedy's voice and the electronic underlay is upset by the introduction of strong chords played on the piano, and "Poor Places" erupts in a brilliant display of new power, as drums and less subtle electronic elements begin to take over.
Tweedy's voice prevails through the entire ordeal, and seems to conduct every minute detail within the piece––the song's resulting sound is orchestral, not just in metaphor, but in bright, emotional music; "Poor Places" rises up in the air as it progresses, and eventually reaches a stratosphere of miscellaneous instrumental sounds (that could be incorporate practically every percussion implements from sleigh bells to washboards).
I turned the song off before it reached such heights––unfortunately, my left ear is giving me problems and the last minute or so of "Poor Places" bothered it tonight. But the effect of the four previous minutes had already carried my spirits high enough, and that's how music should always be, and I believe I'll remember this "Poor Places" for a while.

A step closer to greatness

So in the last week, I've gone through what I'd consider a somewhat interesting series of events, all of which resulted in my exciting new news: I've just received my first promotional CD copies ever!

The whole package I was sent, including album descriptions

See, the story starts goes this:
I decided to submit my last review of The Autumn Defense's new self-titled album to the News-Gazette. It occurred to me that I shouldn't stop at just that. I'd done a few other things for the News-Gazette, and I figured, "maybe I should start writing more regularly; I could contribute CD and concert reviews weekly." And so I talked to Melissa Merli (the Spin-Off section editor), and she said it sounded good.
Meanwhile, I thought I was going to get paid per story by the News-Gazette and reimbursed for these CD purchases for turning in the reviews to the Gargoyle and posting them online. To make a slightly longer story short, that didn't work out according to plan, and so I talked to Melissa and we decided that, although the News-Gazette doesn't reimburse writers, she would contact some record labels (Nonesuch, Matador, and Subpop, for instance) and see what strings she could pull.
All the while, I'd been reading reviews and looking at music sites when I stumbled upon a review of "Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?" by Of Montreal––their new release––and realized that they're signed to a local company, Polyvinyl. Fireworks started going off in my head, and I scrambled to contact Polyvinyl, mentioning that I live in town and that I was going to start writing for the News-Gazette soon.
So pretty soon after that, I got a response saying that they were interested––the local support was appreciated––and that pretty much brings us up to speed. I hope that wasn't too personal of a blog (i.e. I hope that I didn't come off sounding like a 14-year-old girl with a bad attitude and a livejournal), but maybe it's important to this blog too––I will have more to talk about after all. So expect comments on those sometime in the near future.

-Jono

Viva la revolucion

I'll admit I had my doubts about Prince performing in the Halftime Show at the Super Bowl this year––my original introduction to him was through "Chappelle's Show," and the whole deal seemed a bit too revolutionary for me, as it were. But while I expected to watch some overly flamboyant guitar player who was carelessly left over from the 80s removing various clothing items in front of an audience of millions of Americans, I was stunned to find that his show was actually really good.
Prince's guitar work was, of course, one of the first perks of the show. Even before the introduction of his "symbol" guitar, the fact that a pop star was playing his own instrument (and in addition to that, playing it well) was a treat that most followers of today's mainstream probably can't relate to. His vocals were fairly good, as expected, but the sheer volume of Super Bowl fans unfortunately drowned him out a bit as well.
That said, Prince's stage presence was also enjoyable in its own way. Really, his behavior was representative of all good musicians: he was smooth and just plain awesome throughout the entire show, such as when his guitar-playing silhouette was projected on a giant cloth that was blown up into the air, and when he seemed to throw his guitar into the already electric audience. But to add an extra, more expected dimension, he mixed it up with a few ridiculous, over-the-top bits, although he didn't go so far as to crawl or strip onstage.
One thing I definitely did not enjoy (and I don't seem to be alone in this) was the cover of The Foo Fighters' "Best of You" that Prince interrupted an infinitely better cover of Bob Dylan's "All Along The Watchtower" for. But even though this truly was the worst part of the show, he went out with a great "Purple Rain," and that in and of itself practically made up for the other errors in his playlist automatically.
And even if Prince's overall stage presence and raw talent hadn't cancelled my disdain for "Best of You," his cover of it was still not bad by any stretch of the imagination––it was actually a major step up from the original. The entire performance was one of the best I've seen during a Super Bowl. Despite its flaws, the crowd was still going wild, my friends and I all had a great time watching it, and it could've been much worse––Paul McCartney could've played again.