I bought this record when I first started my collection in college for two reasons: it was twenty-five cents, and the cover was cool.
And after a disappointing listen, I kept it on the merit of its artwork and never listened to it again. But now, six years later, the record doesn’t sound as terrible as it did when I first heard it.
Somewhere after Demon Days was released, Blur essentially disbanded. So without another outfit, all of Damon Albarn’s creative outlet was directed to Gorillaz.
And that’s where the whole cartoon thing kind of shattered. Continue reading
When “Clint Eastwood” hit airwaves in 2001, Gorllaz were immediately pigeonholed as “that cartoon rap group.”
Four years later, “Feel Good Inc.” dropped, surprising everyone with just how good a cartoon rap group could be. But even the strength of that single couldn’t prepare us for the genius of the complete Demon Days.
The Appleseed Cast can be a strange beast to pin down. When I first heard them on various Deep Elm Records samplers, they were obviously an emo band. Then in college, when a friend sent me “Fight Song” off of Two Conversations, I put it on my indie rock playlist in iTunes.
Then most recently, the drummer in my band referred to them as one of his favorite post rock bands. And now, as I’ve rediscovered their magnus opus, a sprawling two volume opus on three discs, I’ve found that none of those are that far off.
In the three years after their break up, it became obvious that none of the Beatles were going anywhere. John got over his weirdness and got back to rock music. Paul responded to the backlash of the homespun McCartney with the incredible Ram, then form Wings. Ringo released a country record (?!?). And after the releasing the sprawling deluge of All Things Must Pass and organizing and recording the massive humanitarian Concert for Bangladesh at the Behest of his mentor Ravi Shankar, George Harrison no longer had anything to prove.
The Beatles were over. McCartney had made a press release announcing it, followed a week later by his first solo record, which was derided as a disappointing, half-baked affair. The magic was over. The good days were all behind us. And while the Fab Four may all still be releasing music, nothing they made could have topped what they did together.
But for George Harrison, the dam had burst.
As I have mentioned before, Cryptograms is my favorite Deerhunter record. Its more ambient passages are absolutely transcendent in a way that so many shoegaze/dreampop bands fail to emulate better.
But, as I have mourned, as Bradford Cox & Co. continue making music, they slip further and further away from the glistening haze they crafted so masterfully and more towards direct pop rock.
The very first thing you notice about Invisible Touch is just how poppy it is. Which isn’t too surprising–the two records before it had some great pop numbers with prog flares thrown in to keep things interesting, like Abacab’s great No Reply At All or the Home by the Sea suite from Genesis, reflective of what groups like The Police and Talk Talk were doing around the same time on Ghost in the Machine and The Colour of Spring (which are both masterpieces).
Even with as long as I’ve listened to Fugazi, I am almost completely unfamiliar with Red Medicine. In fact, the only thing I hear when I think of the album is the super-gained choppy intro and the chorus of opener Do You Like Me? Purchasing the vinyl (and cassette! Gotta love overstock on record companies’ websites) was an act intended to force me to spend time with the record. Well, that and to fill in the two gaps in my collection (Steady Diet of Nothing, I’m coming for you).