2004-12 Vital Source Mag – December 2004
Leonard Cohen
By John Hughes In the song “On That Day,” Leonard Cohen – arguably the wisest man in music – addresses September 11, 2001. Original perspective, even revelation, is expected from a writer such as Cohen, tangling with that subject. The song lasts all of two minutes and four seconds, is highlighted by the playing of a weirdly comic Jew’s Harp, and concludes with the underwhelming question, “Did you go crazy/or did you report/on that day/they wounded New York?” So much for revelation. That disappointment sets the tone for Dear Heather. The disc sounds like the career of 70-year-old Cohen ending not with a bang but with a shrug. It’s a grab bag of songs marred by the preponderance of too many brief and minor sketches by the old master, and it fails to add up to much despite some strong moments. Cohen augments his case with a few of the 13 songs: “Go No More A-Roving,” “Villanelle For Our Time,” “Morning Glory,” and “The Faith” recall the Leonard of old-playful, sagacious, penetrating, and moving. The singing of Anjani Thomas and Sharon Robinson helps a lot, especially because Cohen’s own singing here is even more melancholy than usual. The occasional piano playing of Thomas and the tasteful saxophone renderings of Bob Sheppard contribute musicality. But much of the album achieves little more than easy-listening status, and the record requires only that you listen to it with one ear, rather than the usual full engagement. Dear Heather concludes with a bizarre live version of “Tennessee Waltz,” a lurch into country music as unsettling as YoYo Ma trying his hand at rock and roll might be. What was he thinking? It’s ultimately desultory, sometimes pretty, and disposable.
Dec 1st, 2004 by Vital Archives
Rufus Wainwright
By Erin Wolf Want Two, Rufus Wainwright’s follow-up to last year’s Want One, is quite the veritable mobile of whirling sonic fancies. Like its predecessor, Want Two hops from cabaret tunes to operatic orchestrations. Borrowing influences from Latin, French and classical sources, Wainwright pens grandiose songs that are rightly focused around his beautifully satiating vocals. Wainwright’s trademark flamboyancy isn’t quite as prevalent as it was on 2001’s Poses. Want One and Want Two are Wainwright toughening up his writing chops, and lyricizing with a bit more introspection and indulging in the morose and despairing, but always shining a ray of light on seemingly dark subjects. Wainwright’s ability to work humor into his lyrics (“I’m so tired of waiting in restaurants / reading the critics and comics alone / with a waiter with a face made for currency“) and his ability to incorporate odds-and-ends instruments such as banjos into his orchestral-like epics-and to make that incorporation seem like a perfectly natural occurrence-is refreshing and uplifting for such serious songs. Therein lies the talent of Rufus Wainwright-with his ability to make the oddly unnatural seem perfectly ordinary, he creates a solid album that is anything but concrete in its structure.
Dec 1st, 2004 by Vital Archives
Fu Manchu
By Jeremy M. Rottgen Fu Manchu’s Start The Machine roars with the intensity and consistency of a 502 engine. This is the kind of stuff Marshall stacks and hot-wired humbuckers were made for. This is Fu’s first release since being signed to DRT records. Longtime fans will most likely welcome it because pretty much every song on Start The Machine is a distorted masterpiece. They were allowed more freedom since signing with DRT, and it shows.You’ve got to admire a band that has found the ultimate point between gain and volume, creating an immense guitar sound. The punk philosophy applies as well with no song exceeding three and a half minutes. “Written In Stone” kicks things off with a snarl. Things do slow down a bit toward the middle with “Out to Sea,” a trippy instrumental with enough reverb and echo effects to throw you into a trance-but besides that one break, Start The Machine does not stop churning. Despite being a somewhat unknown success, Fu Manchu have attempted to bring the crunch for many years. They don’t pull any punches when it comes to their releases. It’s consistent and their fans don’t have to guess about what they’re in for next.
Dec 1st, 2004 by Vital Archives
The Occasion
By Erin Wolf The Occasion re-define the term “noise-rock.” With jangly tambourines, mellow vocals and garbage-can-drum tendencies, The Occasion’s self-titled debut is immense, reflecting the hills of desert sands that grace the cover of their album-completely enveloping and sensory-sweeping. Quietly pretty in spots with the incorporation of twinkly pianos, and psychedelically hard-hitting with enough guitar distortion, fuzz and feedback to make even Sonic Youth raise their eyebrows, The Occasion make music to suit themselves. Vocals range from anguished plodding on “I Can’t Stop Falling” to Morrissey-like lamentation on “Ease Away.” The latter track best showcases The Occasion’s vastness in sound, with its guitars sporadically strumming amidst the soft, steady shake of a tambourine, and with sliding vocal echoes haunting in the background. Upon first listen, it’s hard to accept this band’s unique and ethereal sound, but upon recognizing the intricacies and creativity found in their music, it’s hard not to feel appreciation for this New York quintet. Coloring within the lines is definitely not on their musical agenda-indeed, coloring outside the lines has never sounded so inviting.
Dec 1st, 2004 by Vital Archives
Nina Simone moves Holly Blue
by Nina Simone 21st Birthday April 5th, 1996 “Do you quiver, from your head down to your liver?” – Nina Simone The weather was beautful today. Cold, but the sun was shining on us like a goddamn hero. My senses were all standing on edge, soaking in every detail as I nearly became part of color and sound. The “synchronicity of life”, which Dad speaks so highly of, was so apparent to me. The intimacy of me I’d almost forgotten if it weren’t for my two best friends, some edible fungus, and Nina Simone. It was the best day ever. We spent the daylight sharing our stories, ugly girl truths and all. We danced to Nina, laughed and moved things with our eyes. And when we were coming down my girl’s sang happy birthday to me, after which we toasted our love for womankind with champagne and strawberry’s. Later that evening I could still feel the drug lingering throughout my body. From the intensity in my chest to the electricity in my toes, I knew I was alive. I knew love was with me even though I’d never been more alone (ie. without a boy) in my entire life. I felt a calm, peaceful understanding of myself that I’d never allowed before today. Fully connected with my beauty and vitality, I realized my need as a woman, to appreciate it all, even the desparation of heartache. The same heartache I hear in Nina’s voice, the voice of every woman, vulnerable and strong.
Dec 1st, 2004 by Vital Archives
The Needless Oppression of Ideological Gridlock
By John Hughes I was viewing the movie Motorcycle Diaries recently, watching Che Guevara’s revolutionary consciousness incubate, and I became reflective. Sitting in the dark, I began to wonder what a Great Liberator would look like if he or she arrived in America in 2004. From what would that Che, or that Gandhi, or that Malcolm X, liberate us? By what are we oppressed? Anything? Anyone? Under the spell of that movie, I made a natural jump from South America in 1952 to today. I rummaged through the causes and issues that need a serious boost: the environment, violence, the economy (global and domestic), health care (which is becoming apocalyptically expensive) and America’s frighteningly imperialistic stance towards the rest of the world. But somehow, as I sat holding a good woman’s hand, watching the scene where Che’s best friend danced with a nun, I realized that more than specific relief in any one of our many tactical pain points, we as a nation are in need of liberation from our ideological gridlock. I certainly don’t mean that progressives should give away the store just so they can get along with conservatives. I don’t mean that anyone should back away from a good fight, a good debate, a rousing contest of wills. I don’t mean that we should airbrush differences of opinion in the popular arena, for the sake of a faux national unity. But I do mean something. If a Great Liberator were to come along now, I’d want that person to liberate America from the fact that we are in serious danger of becoming two permanently estranged halves, in a muted civil war for the rest of history. We need deliverance from this fate so we may continue to live out Abraham Lincoln’s dream of harboring, in his immortal words of1865, “malice toward none,” and “charity toward all.” The day after I watched that movie, I was eating lunch with a colleague from my day job, and we invited a brand new acquaintance to join us. This new acquaintance, Tracy, was a warm, empathic woman with a soft laugh. I liked her and we had a nice conversation. My colleague Helen eventually got around to discussing George W. Bush supporters in a stingingly frank manner. She lampooned suburban soccer moms in Hummers, screaming from the sidelines dressed in sweaters and pearls. I joined in, mentioning that often-seen sticker affixed to the back of redneck trucks, of a Ford boy peeing on the Chevy logo, and compared it to Bush’s attitude toward the rest of the world. Helen chipped in with some sort of adjective, like “pathetic” or “disgusting.” We shared a laugh. Tracy wasn’t laughing. She’d grown silent, and watched us through a frozen smile, with eyes glazed. She was a Bush supporter, no doubt, and our friendship with her, ten minutes old, was cut off at the pass. She hasn’t eaten with us again. We are at risk of becoming a nation of two ideological poles, and it’s […]
Dec 1st, 2004 by Vital Archives
