Slumberlord
Sunday, January 30, 2005
woop woop wah wah beep beep
One of the regular Stylus features is the Singles Going Steady US Jukebox. The weekly rundown hits up new US chart entries, and a half-dozen or so writers (including yours truly) rank them before the scores are averaged.
Everyone more or less agreed on the Sum 41, Lindsay Lohan and Simple Plan songs (although I was surprised Simple Plan got such nasty marks – it’s almost a good song). We broke in opposite directions on piano man John Legend and ghetto crooner Akon, but (almost) unanimously praised the killer Diplomats’ single “Crunk Muzik.”
The one dissenter was Ak1va Gott1ieb, who brings a lot to each SGS, but sometimes makes a few confusing calls. I think considering the (deceivingly-named) “Crunk Muzik” in the same league as southern rap, either in lyrics or production, is a mistake (Jim Jones and company are from New York and rap over very hard, shallow beats). If it weren’t for his low vote of 5 on the song it would have been the highest ranking song in SGS history.
Oh well. Another day, another Dipset anthem.
One of the regular Stylus features is the Singles Going Steady US Jukebox. The weekly rundown hits up new US chart entries, and a half-dozen or so writers (including yours truly) rank them before the scores are averaged.
Everyone more or less agreed on the Sum 41, Lindsay Lohan and Simple Plan songs (although I was surprised Simple Plan got such nasty marks – it’s almost a good song). We broke in opposite directions on piano man John Legend and ghetto crooner Akon, but (almost) unanimously praised the killer Diplomats’ single “Crunk Muzik.”
The one dissenter was Ak1va Gott1ieb, who brings a lot to each SGS, but sometimes makes a few confusing calls. I think considering the (deceivingly-named) “Crunk Muzik” in the same league as southern rap, either in lyrics or production, is a mistake (Jim Jones and company are from New York and rap over very hard, shallow beats). If it weren’t for his low vote of 5 on the song it would have been the highest ranking song in SGS history.
Oh well. Another day, another Dipset anthem.
Monday, January 24, 2005
“You should be able to have so much power that you don’t need drums”
Stylus did best singles and best albums write-ups for 2000-2004, and while I find the concept itself a little dry, it yielded some brilliant blurbs from the staff. Anthony Miccio’s blurb on Nellie McKay’s album, for example, or Kareem Estefan’s blurb for the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s “Maps.” I myself wrote several blurbs, including one on 50 Cent’s “In Da Club”:
Hip-hop has sanded off the paint, stripped the chrome, and ground music down to its naked chassis. “In Da Club” runs on fumes, a series of blunted high/low sweeps—“VHUM-VHUM; vhum-vhum.” Apocalypse survivor 50 Cent rides the Aftermath beat perfectly by remembering to barely exist, eyes half-lidded as his coffin rumbles toward the cliff. The masterstroke is the song’s most subtle addition, the translucent guitar that slithers down the track’s skeleton spine in the final 30 seconds. Such a masterful display of minimalism is remarkable in itself, but for that song to reign week after week atop the American pop charts is truly incredible. In 2003 “In Da Club” proved hip-hop could create what no other genre could: nothing-music that moves the masses.
The more I think about the song, the more I’m astonished by just how much they do with so little. It reminds me of reading a quote from Detroit techno pioneer Derrick May, talking about his utterly classic “Strings of Life”:
“I’m a metronome working kind of guy, I make the music to the metronome. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. The last thing I do is add the drums. Too many people use drums as a piece de resistance to their music. That’s dumb. Drums are an accent. That’s it. You should be able to make a track and not even use drums. You should be able to have so much power that you don’t need drums.”
Stylus did best singles and best albums write-ups for 2000-2004, and while I find the concept itself a little dry, it yielded some brilliant blurbs from the staff. Anthony Miccio’s blurb on Nellie McKay’s album, for example, or Kareem Estefan’s blurb for the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s “Maps.” I myself wrote several blurbs, including one on 50 Cent’s “In Da Club”:
Hip-hop has sanded off the paint, stripped the chrome, and ground music down to its naked chassis. “In Da Club” runs on fumes, a series of blunted high/low sweeps—“VHUM-VHUM; vhum-vhum.” Apocalypse survivor 50 Cent rides the Aftermath beat perfectly by remembering to barely exist, eyes half-lidded as his coffin rumbles toward the cliff. The masterstroke is the song’s most subtle addition, the translucent guitar that slithers down the track’s skeleton spine in the final 30 seconds. Such a masterful display of minimalism is remarkable in itself, but for that song to reign week after week atop the American pop charts is truly incredible. In 2003 “In Da Club” proved hip-hop could create what no other genre could: nothing-music that moves the masses.
The more I think about the song, the more I’m astonished by just how much they do with so little. It reminds me of reading a quote from Detroit techno pioneer Derrick May, talking about his utterly classic “Strings of Life”:
“I’m a metronome working kind of guy, I make the music to the metronome. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. The last thing I do is add the drums. Too many people use drums as a piece de resistance to their music. That’s dumb. Drums are an accent. That’s it. You should be able to make a track and not even use drums. You should be able to have so much power that you don’t need drums.”
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Take a chance you stupid ho
I wrote several year-end blurbs for a 2004 best-of list for the SOMB:
Lansing-Dreiden - "The Incomplete Triangle" (Album)
Space rock, dream pop and ‘80s pop-rock all came back in the last few years, but only one album had all three in one convenient package. “The Incomplete Triangle’s” first four songs kick out the JAMCs with blustery back-seat vocals and a thundering churn of guitars; the middle four wander hazily through a foggy shoehaze. But most surprising and exciting is the peculiar danse-rocke suite, peaking in the occult, Visage-styled “I.C.U.” and the glossy fadeout of “Desert Lights.” Rock has risen from the dead and possessed the corpse of synth-pop, and the name falling off its phantom lips is Lansing-Dreiden.
The Knife - "Heartbeats" (Single)
It’s Lene Lovich and Yukihiro Takahashi grooving in the Power Station, it’s Tina Weymouth and Joseph Saddler hoisting boomboxes outside the Roxy, it’s Scott Walker singing “Dealer” to an empty discotheque, it’s Andy Taylor making bedroom eyes at Kate Bush from across a crowded bar, it’s Yoko Ono dancing with tears in her eyes, it’s “wolves’ teeth, sharing different heartbeats,” it’s rubbery island drums over Casino Night buzzers and hand claps, it’s romance, it’s heartbreak, it’s the Knife’s “Heartbeats,” one the best songs of 2003, one of the best singles of 2004, and the delivery of everything love has promised us.
Gwen Stefani - "What You Waiting For" (Single)
What You Waiting For” sounds like it was recorded on the clock, literally and figuratively, and Gwen’s not waiting for anything here, or holding anything back. Her entire musical history and every thinly-veiled influence gets jammed in with the extra effects and saw guitars and little skater girl Gwen chastising husky-voiced Britney-Gwen encouraging kid-Madonna Gwen, all coming together with “take a chance, you stupid ho”; Brian Eno never said it so succinctly.
And if the original is sloppy near-brilliance, the Lu Cont remix hones it down to aerodynamic perfection, a glistening French filter-banger. Jacques, whose Zoot Woman single “Taken It All” received two killer remixes of its own this year, stretches Gwen’s tick-tocks into the dizzying horizon. He flips the song on its head; if the original is all messy hyperventilating hooks-on-hooks (and it is), then the remix is the gliding Theravada disco-to-disco barnstormer that makes listeners say “damn, I wonder what Gwen said when she heard this.” She probably just danced.
I wrote several year-end blurbs for a 2004 best-of list for the SOMB:
Lansing-Dreiden - "The Incomplete Triangle" (Album)
Space rock, dream pop and ‘80s pop-rock all came back in the last few years, but only one album had all three in one convenient package. “The Incomplete Triangle’s” first four songs kick out the JAMCs with blustery back-seat vocals and a thundering churn of guitars; the middle four wander hazily through a foggy shoehaze. But most surprising and exciting is the peculiar danse-rocke suite, peaking in the occult, Visage-styled “I.C.U.” and the glossy fadeout of “Desert Lights.” Rock has risen from the dead and possessed the corpse of synth-pop, and the name falling off its phantom lips is Lansing-Dreiden.
The Knife - "Heartbeats" (Single)
It’s Lene Lovich and Yukihiro Takahashi grooving in the Power Station, it’s Tina Weymouth and Joseph Saddler hoisting boomboxes outside the Roxy, it’s Scott Walker singing “Dealer” to an empty discotheque, it’s Andy Taylor making bedroom eyes at Kate Bush from across a crowded bar, it’s Yoko Ono dancing with tears in her eyes, it’s “wolves’ teeth, sharing different heartbeats,” it’s rubbery island drums over Casino Night buzzers and hand claps, it’s romance, it’s heartbreak, it’s the Knife’s “Heartbeats,” one the best songs of 2003, one of the best singles of 2004, and the delivery of everything love has promised us.
Gwen Stefani - "What You Waiting For" (Single)
What You Waiting For” sounds like it was recorded on the clock, literally and figuratively, and Gwen’s not waiting for anything here, or holding anything back. Her entire musical history and every thinly-veiled influence gets jammed in with the extra effects and saw guitars and little skater girl Gwen chastising husky-voiced Britney-Gwen encouraging kid-Madonna Gwen, all coming together with “take a chance, you stupid ho”; Brian Eno never said it so succinctly.
And if the original is sloppy near-brilliance, the Lu Cont remix hones it down to aerodynamic perfection, a glistening French filter-banger. Jacques, whose Zoot Woman single “Taken It All” received two killer remixes of its own this year, stretches Gwen’s tick-tocks into the dizzying horizon. He flips the song on its head; if the original is all messy hyperventilating hooks-on-hooks (and it is), then the remix is the gliding Theravada disco-to-disco barnstormer that makes listeners say “damn, I wonder what Gwen said when she heard this.” She probably just danced.
