My Big, Gigantic Drum Kit

Here’s my case for Carly Rae Jepsen as artist of the year (the sole outlier to the pattern I’ve previously mentioned, except for the minor detail that all of my writeups are for female artists). Most of the folks on my ballot made it this time. Explanations hastily given below:

1. Carly Rae Jepsen

reasoning explained at the link

2. Death Grips

They had the year’s best single, one of the year’s best albums, yet another pretty good album, the bonkers ARG promo campaign, some amusingly frank—if self-serious—interviews, and, of course, the quickest, most thorough major label mutiny ever. To paraphrase Lou Reed, their week apparently beats your year.

3. Frank Ocean

His coming out was rightfully celebrated even by many who likely haven’t listened to Channel Orange, but the real trick Ocean pulled was following the relative immediacy of Nostalgia, Ultra and his various guest spots with such a grower; the formidable balance of storytelling and mood on “Novacane” only hinted at the layers on songs like “Bad Religion” and “Pyramids.”

4. Bruce Springsteen

In terms of latter-day Bruce, Wrecking Ball doesn’t quite top Magic, but its history-minded response to the recession is smart and inspiring, a worthy synthesis of his 21st century work with the Seegerisms of We Shall Overcome and the E Street-through-the-ages scope of Magic fused to the Big Topic concerns of The Rising. And it’s clear throughout that economic injustice still pisses Springsteen off to his core. “We Take Care of Our Own” is a song-length sneer that even the most clueless “Born in the U.S.A.” fist pumpers couldn’t mistake as patriotism.

5. Bob Mould

I was starting to think I’d never give a shit about a Bob Mould album again, and Silver Age, easily his strongest since The Last Dog and Pony Show from ‘98, proved me wrong. His recent, impressive surge in nostalgic activity—writing his memoir, re-releasing the Sugar catalog, and performing Copper Blue on tour—seems to have knocked the ill-fitting electronics out of the picture entirely and plopped him back down in power-trio land where he’s always been best.

therichgirlsareweeping:

bg5000:

New Bob Mould!

Bob Mould — The Descent

There’s not much better in this world than a big, bombastic new song from Bob Mould, all power chords and phased vocals and crisp, sugarcoated wonderfulness.

“Sugarcoated” is right! I haven’t loved a Mould release since The Last Dog & Pony Show, but I’ve always wondered what a full album of Bob in Sugar mode would have sounded like with a looser rhythm section, and it sounds like Silver Age might be just that. 

Which is not to knock the Barbe/Travis piledriver approach. At the time, it sounded massive in contrast to that Hüsker fleet-footedness and the detail-oriented professionalism of the Maimone/Fier backing on the first Mould solo albums. But, aside from some funky bits on Beaster and a few b-sides, they drove those steady 8th notes and 16th note fill patterns into the ground. As much as I liked Sugar, I was sort of glad when they split up, so Mould could get back to making music that wasn’t so damn rigid (which has really only turned out to be the case on The Last Dog & Pony Show and sporadically after the mess that was Modulate).

guiltregret:

Bob Mould “Turning Of The Tide”

From the album, Beat The Retreat: Songs By Richard Thompson. 

Bob absolutely nails this song. So good.

Added bonus: John Doe and D.J. Bonebrake of X provide bass and drums on this track.

This whole album’s pretty fun, but Mould does a particularly nice job.

Bob Mould Band - “I Apologize” & “Chartered Trips” (Circle of Friends DVD)

I finished Mould’s memoir, See a Little Light: The Trail of Rage and Melody, last night.  As Robert Christgau writes in his review, Mould has some trouble getting outside of his head and bringing other people in his story to life, but I find that pretty consistent with the way Mould has always approached his songwriting; his gift has never been for empathy so much as unfiltered expression and, at times, judgment. 

That said, his life story thus far makes for a pretty compelling narrative with or without well-drawn supporting characters.  Even disregarding Mould’s distinction as a semi-out gay man in one of the greatest guitar-oriented bands of 80s post-punk, his road has been a pretty unusual one in rock terms; he got clean well before his first band imploded, did a writing stint for the WCW, and has managed to establish a secondary audience who knows him primarily for his DJing.  I’ve also learned a few things about same-sex, clothing optional hotels and bear culture, so there’s that.

As a longtime, but semi-lapsed Mould fan, I came to the book mainly for insight on his music, and he’s not particularly forthcoming on his writing process on specific songs; but it’s easy to intuit quite a bit based on the details he gives on his personal life (although it must be said that the number of songs he’s written about breakups and harrowing relationships is striking in light of the very few—and mostly very long-term—partners he’s had). 

The last album I truly loved by Mould was The Last Dog and Pony Show in 1998.  I couldn’t follow him down the electronic rabbit hole of Modulate (which he now seems to acknowledge as a good idea in theory, but not in execution), and his subsequent retreat back to guitar-oriented songwriting connects with me only on occasion.  See a Little Light, while not exactly winning me over on much of the recent material, sheds some light on how he ended up where he did. 

If nothing else, it’s encouraged me to finally check out the Circle of Friends DVD, where Mould and his circa-2005 band (Jason Narducy of Verbow on guitar, Rich Morel on keys, and, hot damn, Brendan Canty from Fugazi on drums) tackle solo, Sugar, and Husker Du tunes.  Based on the video above, I’m loving Canty’s approach, which replaces Grant Hart’s swing and fluid rolls with metronomic timing and precision, but adds a groove absent from Mould’s work in the 90s (including Sugar, where Malcolm Travis’ frequent, pummeling 16th note snare fills were admittedly part of the appeal).

Since everyone’s so taken with this year’s Bing/Bowie “Little Drummer Boy” tributes, thought I’d bring this one back.  For the puzzled, Bob Mould wrote “Dog on Fire,” The Daily Show theme song way back when it started (then They Might Be Giants revised it when Stewart took over).