Tweedy's lyrics continue to shine -- "you were a blessing and I was a curse, I did my best not to make things worse" in "One Wing;" "Cmon, children, you're acting like children. Every generation thinks it's the end of the world" on "You Never Know" -- and the band remains an amazingly cohesive unit, every piece hitting in perfect unison. (Listen to the sheer number of layers on "Nova" or "Never Know" and ask yourself both how many other bands do that (and as well) and how easily it could have gone wrong (and in how many directions). The fact that it doesn't is testament to just how good these guys really are.)
As usual, the songs that hit the heart remain Tweedy's best and among my favorites -- the warm duet between Tweedy and Feist on "You and I" ("You and I, I think we can take it, all the good with the bad, make something no one else has;") the hushed confessional of "Solitaire" ("Once I thought without a doubt, I had it all figured out...took too long to see, I was wrong to believe in me only.") Each provided hope and solace this year as I tried desperately to hold together my failing relationship. The fierce devotion and determination of "I'll Fight" stood head and shoulders above the others, though. It's repeated professions of Tweedy being ready to fight/kill/die for his love -- a love that didn't seem to care/listen/notice -- were particularly poignant, despite the ultimate demise. Tweedy and the band have never been better, and this album shows just how much they have to give.
This being the year of heartache and destruction, though, the album's biggest winners were the ones that eviscerated emotionally, tearing you open with their honesty, but keeping you alive with the warmth and precision in which it was administered -- "something has me acting like someone I don't want to be, ill with want and poisoned by this ugly greed" ("Ill With Want;") "I see pain, but I don't feel it, I am like the old tin man... I miss that, the feeling a feeling" ("Tin Man;") "they say you gotta lose a couple fights to win, it's hard to tell from where I'm sitting. They say that this is where the fun begins, I guess it's time that I was quitting" ("Slight Figure of Speech.") Nothing comes even close to the album's opener, though, the title track, which still has the ability to draw tears after dozens and dozens of listens. "Dumbed down and numbed by time and age, your dreams to catch, the world the cage, the highway sets the traveler's stage, all exits look the same...three words that became hard to say - 'I and love and you...'" Nothing better encapsulates the pain, sorrow, impotent love, and bitter disappointment of my year than these five minutes, a song that still finds beauty and hope in the jet black sadness.
This being the year it was, though, the ones that resonated the most were those that mirrored my failing relationship -- the beautiful account of two birds on a telephone wire, one too afraid to trust its feelings and act on them, while its partner keeps telling it "Cmon, it'll be ok!" in "Two Birds," for one. The perfect summation to it all though -- the year, the album, life -- was the blissful hope of "One More Time with Feeling" and its indefatigable belief that this too, shall pass. "Hold on, one more time with feeling. Say it again, breathing's just a rhythm. Say it in your mind until you know that the words are right -- this is why we fight..." That indomitable spirit, that big beating heart and the belief in its ability to heal is everywhere on this disc, and it provided no short measure of comfort and solace as the carnage ground to a close. If the bird wants to stay on the wire, convinced it will all fall apart if it doesn't, it's not your fault, she says, go fly away -- it's not your problem to fix anymore.
Case is a chameleon here, effortlessly shifting points of view, from man to woman to animal to meteorological phenomenon -- the aforementioned "Tornado" is sung from the twister's perspective, for crying out loud -- and her honesty and playfulness rings out throughout. As Case said when I saw her perform this year, this is nighttime music -- the perfect soundtrack to a curl near the fireplace or a moonlit drive with the windows down on a summer night. You'll never be happier to see the darkness encroaching.
There's the sensual "Effigy" where Bird again harmonizes with Nora O'Connor, a pairing as perfect and regal as champagne and strawberries; the shuffling "Not a Robot, But a Ghost" and its ethereal howl (alongside the effervescent refrain of "I cracked the coooooooooooode, I cracked the code!," which might be the single most fun line to sing this year); the stately crackle midway through "Anonanimal" where Bird frantically rambles his lines before easing back into rhythm; the sunny chorus and whistles of opener "Oh No;" the precious beauty and emotional nakedness of "Natural Disaster" and "The Privateers." They all shine, but the best of them all is "Fitz and the Dizzyspells," which combines all of the above into three and a half minutes of pure joy that will have you dancing around the room smiling.
And what they finally delivered is rock at its ballsiest, hedonistic best -- a hybrid of Zeppelin's bombastic swagger and Queens' gritty sexuality and playful lyrics. As with the band itself, you're into the album from the opening notes -- "No One Loves Me, and Neither Do I" sounds like a mothballed tank lurching into action, the rust flaking off as the gears gain momentum, and when things finally lock in at 2:44, the obliteration is astonishing. The last two and a half minutes thud like an artillery attack, and the album scarcely lets up again. The four-song run of "Elephants," "Scumbag Blues," "Bandoliers," and "Reptiles" is absolutely blistering, and among the best 20-odd minutes you'll have this year. "Scumbag" alone is worth the price of admission and shows the band's mastery -- Homme's falsetto sounding more like Jack Bruce's than anything since the glory days of Cream, Jones' funk keys bouncing across the landscape with Homme's howling guitar, and Grohl's drums shredding everything in their path, so cleanly and loudly resonant you thank God for the gift of ears.
You could start anywhere -- the stately "Almost Always" and "We Steal People's Medicine;" the heavy-hearted desolation of "The Long Route 38" or the hopeful "She Comes To Me" with their trumpet-led choirs; the full-throated soul of the chorus in "Lunch in Field Four;" the ebullient country-fried twang of "Bottom of the River" and "Math." They all soar, rising high on the back of Arcuragi's sharp lyrics and soulful baritone. ("River"'s devastating opening line -- "Well I am in love with something invisible" -- is another perfect summation of my failed relationship. Boy, was I...) And none go higher than "People and Private Music," a song so joyful and heart-swelling it makes you want to run through a field jumping and singing. Let's hope the lyrics are right -- "the real thing's coming, yeah the real thing's coming" -- because this skinny kid wants to sing one more song...
The album is chock full of winners -- from the Gypsy-tinged opener "Whatever Gets you By," which transitions seamlessly into the porn horn laden "The Drawing Board;" the sweet lovers "Baby's Hammer" and "Off Track;" and loud-quiet-loud gems "Foundation's Cracked" and "Temporary Blues." Lead singer and guitarist Matt Pelham's voice sucks you in every time, switching from dulcet croon to full-throated roar in an instant, and urges you to do the same. None more compellingly than "Lions," which captures the band at its finest. A powerful, joyous song of hope, love, and commitment, this is one I hope to sing again soon, only this time to someone who sings it back.
"Crystalised" is the show pony, though -- the perfect reflection of what the band can do. An infectious, plucky riff that smacks of somewhere in the Orient, driving electro drum beats and mumbled boy-girl vocals that spiral around, and cool, chilly atmosphere that creeps out of the speakers like frost out of the freezer. A simple, sexy affair, this one makes for a heck of a debut.
10. MSTRKRFT - Fist of God / Deadmau5 - For Lack of a Better Name / Major Lazer - Guns Don't Kill People.....Lazers Do -- In a year that was as brutal as this one aforementionedly was, the need to blow off steam and dance away the pain was high, and these three were frequently called into service. While none of them are as undeniably perfect dance monsters like last year's Justice album, they come close at times, and it's those moments that earned them the three-way split here. All three showed up to blow minds at Lolla's dance tent (quite possibly the musical high point of the year for me) and those in attendance know why.
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