road trip music

in which I write about torturing my family with music for the duration of our drive.

So we’re on vacation. We drove from NYC to Cape Cod this past Friday, which meant I drove, which meant that I picked all the music for the trip, which meant that my poor family was completely tortured by my musical choices.

I love listening to music in different contexts, because I always end up hearing things that I’ve never noticed before, or getting to experience new emotions in the music. In the car, the music goes along with the scenery, keeps me awake, and gives my brain something to focus on, other than watching that double yellow slide by. I can think differently about the songs, experience them differently, and like them in a completely new way.

Plus, my main context for music listening is on headphones, either on the subway, which has a lot of background noise, or while walking through the streets of NYC, which, again, has background noise issues. So getting the chance to listen to music played through a sound system (however shitty) and with different things to look at is pretty central to my existence. And thought process. And my enjoyment of music itself.

I know it might sound weird, because these are the same songs, but I’m not the same person each time that I listen to them. There are fundamental shifts in my perception of, and interaction with, the music when I’m listening in different locations, times, and mental states.

Here is the playlist for the road trip (and yes, we only have a CD player, not an MP3 player, so we listened to actual albums. OMG. I know you thought nobody does that any more, but I do. Post on that forthcoming.):

1. Atlas Genius - When it Was Now. This album did not sound good in the slightest on my car’s craptacular sound system. Nor did it sound good with the windows open. (we don’t have AC). Terrible choice on my part. But I listened to it to the end. Bruce and I continued the trend of analyzing the band obsessively, although again, I feel bad because he’s only heard them live (with a crappy sound system) and in the car. 
2. Robin Thicke - Blurred Lines. Holds up surprisingly well in the car. I didn’t get too much negative feedback from the family. In fact, all of his albums hold up well with the car’s terrible speakers. Go figure.
3. Bruno Mars - Doo Wops & Hooligans AND Unorthodox Jukebox. I requested it, and the husband said, “Why do you hate me?” and then commented on Mars sounding quite a bit like MJ. He might have actually liked a couple of these songs.
4. LCD Soundsystem -Sound of Silver. I think this was a 55:55 minute endurance experiment for Bruce. Poor, poor man. While I absolutely adore this album, I will concede that it is not good car music, sounded terrible in the car, and I should probably have never played this for Bruce, despite the fact that he likes the song New York I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down. Also, listening to it in the car really made me realize exactly how much LCD Soundsystem stole from the Talking Heads. Which is cool, because the Talking Heads are awesome.
5. Los Amigos Invisibles - Repeat After Me. Bruce chose it, because he likes them (we’ve seen them live twice now). We listened to it until we pulled into the driveway on the Cape. Life was good. 

Bruce is driving us up to Provincetown on Wednesday, so he’ll be choosing the music then. He purchased a HUGE sleeve for CDs and packed music that he likes.

We have fairly divergent musical tastes (although we agree on some things, like Tom Petty’s awesomeness). This should be interesting. 

why I don't read music reviews. mostly.

In which I gripe about music criticism.
Back in the day, when I was a teenager and hungry for as much information about music as possible, I read every single music publication that I could get my hands on.

Now, I don’t give a shit.

Why? Mostly because I find that so much of the music journalism today is just shallow posturing by whichever guy wants to show the size of his proverbial dick. Also, why is it that almost all of the people writing reviews of music professionally are men? Caitlin Moran? Where ARE YOU, goddamnit?

Case in point: the recent New York Times review of Robin Thicke’s new album by Jon Caramanica.

He managed to write a review of the album, on the basis of one fucking song. Seriously. Blurred Lines? you can’t write about any of the other songs on the album in depth (yeah, Ooo La La and Ain’t No Hat 4 That both got a quick mention, in one sentence, towards the end.)

Caramanica also writes about the album as if all the songs were the same “retro soul” throwbacks as Blurred Lines. Which makes me question whether or not he actually listened to the entire album, or just listened to the first three or four tracks on the fucking thing and called it a day.

Yes, I have written professionally, (yeah, yeah, let’s not comment on the quality of my writing right now, I want to bitch about other people, goddamnit) for actual publications, and yes, I know that editors, limited space, intense deadlines, being forced to review a genre of music that you hate, and a whole host of other considerations, can cause an article/review to have all the good shit cut out of it.

Whatever.

What’s really bugging me about these music reviews/reviewers is that they tend to put so much of themselves into the review (fine, I do it too, duh, hence my blog), but also attempt to maintain the pretension of being 1. an expert and 2. objective. Which they’re not (at least in these reviews). And whether or not the actually DO have these pretensions, the very act of writing for a publication such as the NYT, Spin, Rolling Stone, or whatever, kind of FORCES them into that particular role, and I feel like they should at least TRY to honor the position that they’re holding in the eyes of the audience. (and all caps denote that I’m REALLY PASSIONATE about this subject, right?)

In the past, while I’ve enjoyed Caramanica’s work, (like his absolutelyGENIUS interview with Kanye West), it is this type of dismissive, know-it-all bullshit that just really gets my goat. (Sorry Mr. Caramanica. You just happen to be the most recent person who has hit this nerve. I read some of your other reviews this weekend. They were fine. Didn’t piss me off at all.)

Reading music criticism these days really reminds me of going into record stores and dealing with snotty ass clerks who, regardless of what you purchased, would look down on you as either not worthy of whatever you were purchasing, or sneer because you were buying the album of a sell-out.

See, kids, back in the day, there used to be actual retail stores that sold only music…

blurred lines

A review of Robin Thicke’s new album, Blurred Lines. Timely, for once.

I was first introduced to Robin Thicke some five or six years ago by my friend Gabe (who’s producing music under the name FaceLES, interview with him to come soon). We were hanging out on the job, pretending to actually do “work,” but in reality, just sitting around bullshitting about music, kids, our respective marriages, and what have you, and he mentioned Robin Thicke . This was right around the time The Evolution of Robin Thicke was released. Gabe described the album to me, and I immediately ran home and purchased it, after listening to a couple of snippets on iTunes. It got me. I love me some good R&B, and this was…fuckin perfect. (Thanks, man!)

I wore out Evolution. Listened to it on repeat for months. And Thicke quickly became one of the few artists that I will run out (ok, well, turn on my computer) and buy his albums at 6am on the Tuesday that they’re released. 

As you can tell, this review is going to be completely, utterly unbiased.

The first eight tracks on Blurred Lines are basically the soundtrack to the parties that I wish I’d been invited to when I was in college. Except that nobody was really throwing that type of party, so… Anyway, the songs have an awesome mix of funk, disco, and Michael Jackson, with a little EDM thrown in for good measure. 

So yeah, I was the person dancing their ass off to this album in Grand Central Terminal yesterday. Bright orange headphones? Totally unconcerned about what an ass I was making of myself? Yeah, that was me.

I’m a little disappointed that there’s only one Pharrell Williams produced track on the album (Blurred Lines), because I really love their collaborations. And disappointed that there’s no Lil Wayne on this one, as he’s usually excellent with Thicke. The one Timbaland produced track (Take it Easy on Me) is kinda meh on its own. Fine when taken in context with the other songs, but not my favorite. And surprisingly, I liked the will.i.am tracks (Feel Good, and Go Stupid 4 U). I’d previously thought that will.i.am was making himself a little too prevelant/irrelevant, but these are pretty solid.

I respectfully disagree with Entertainment Weekly’s review of the album as “boring.” It might be a little one-note, as compared to Thicke’s other albums, but I don’t think it is boring in the slightest. (Not that I actually read EW for music news, since their music coverage, well, is rather light. (which is a polite way of saying it blows) Maybe now that they have an actual music critic on staff (this Nick Catucci guy who wrote the aforementioned review. I checked out his bona fides, and he worked for Rolling Stone, among other places. nice work if you can get it.) their music coverage will be better. I’m not holding out any hope though.)

This is definitely Thicke’s most commercial album. And there isn’t a goddamn thing wrong with that.  Are people really concerned that Robin Thicke has “sold out” now that he has a huge hit? I don’t think he had any pretensions about not being a sellout, ever, so… maybe the dude just wanted to have some fun on this one. And leave off on the social commentary for once.

All that being said, this album is everything I’d wished Justin Timberlake’s The 20/20 Experience had been. (I wished JT’s album had been good. God, I fuckin hate that one. I’m pissed at myself for buying it. When I first heard it, I thought “shit, this is the worst Robin Thicke knockoff EVER.” heh)

Only one ballad to be found on this album, 4 the Rest of My Life. Which, personally, I find refreshing. I fucking hate ballads. And I’m not particularly a fan of Thicke’s. Too damn sappy. Although Teach U a Lesson on The Evolution of Robin Thicke does have that truly excellent line about hiding WMDs, which cracks me the hell up every time. So ok, maybe I like some of his ballads. Whatever. I can do what I want.

And, to be perfectly honest, Blurred Lines is not as good as Love After War (his last album). Love After War was this beautiful, perfect beast filled with wild creativity, a huge variety of musical styles, excellent social commentary… it’s his best album so far. However, I don’t think Blurred Lines is his worst either. I’d probably give those honors to Sex Therapy, although there are still some truly excellent songs on that album.

The takeaway? I liked it. Blurred Lines was put out by some record company or another, and can be purchased wherever people are selling music and shit. Go buy it. Or not. Whatever. You can do what you want too.

(oh, also, the ukulele on Go Stupid 4 U was inspired. Good job Mr. i.am. or whoever is responsible for that one.)