Yellow House lifts its nose at traditional pop conventions, huddles by the fire to watch Bambi on VHS, and puts out its cigarettes in "freak folk's" eyes. Freak Folk, we barely knew thee. - by Connor McGlynn
I live in a fairly small town in Rhode Island called Little Compton, with a population of about 3,000. The land is very spread out: rolling fields, farms, woods, and plenty of beaches. Because of this, nighttime in my town is completely serene, as dark as night gets. On a good, clear night, the sky opens up to reveal thousands upon thousands of sparkling dots: shooting stars, radiant starlight, and waves of allure clearly not meant for this world. This wondrous sight, however, does not come easy. It's not for impetuous passers-by, nor does it reward nonchalance and passivity. Sure, anyone can spot the north star or the big dipper, but full scale beauty takes time and effort to achieve; eyes need time to adjust to darkness.
Grizzly Bear's sophomore release, Yellow House, is an album ambiguously feathered with both instant likeablility and mind-numbing complexity. It's not hard to spot and enjoy the album's immediate standout tracks, such as the doo-wop jam "Knife" and the guarded "Central & Remote." Tracks such as these are riddled throughout the album. Their melodies, such as the various layered vocal harmonies on "Knife" and the slow, taunting whistling on "Plans," are exceedingly imaginative and inviting, not to mention some of the loveliest and catchiest melodies I've heard since Brian Wilson's SMiLE or Sufjan's Illinois. However, the chance that you'll get hooked within the first few seconds of a song is fairly low. In a world of iPod Shuffles and 30 second previews, not to mention thousands of music blogs posting thousands of MP3s a day, music's increasingly critical finger is always on the trigger ready to press "next." That is by no means the way to listen to Yellow House.
Many of the songs on this album open fairly slowly, with extended instrumental intros and low, droning arpeggios. Because most of the songs lack a fail-safe system of verse-chorus-verse, its easy to feel overwhelmed, confused, and possibly conflicted... but this is all part of what beautifies the album. Induced emotion like that is not only hard to put into words, but hard to take as well. Some refrains, like the opening flutter of "Easier" that begins the album, is entirely bewildering, yet strangely comforting at the same time. While you're sitting there wondering what has come over you, you'll realize that the answer is simple: it's pure bliss. The song progresses with a decidedly strange, overbearing vocal harmony, a sonic representation of "follow the bouncing ball" from any number of your favorite Disney cartoons... and that's not surprising, considering most of these songs could easily sneak their way into Bambi, particularly the nightmare scene, and we'd all be none-the-wiser.
There are many casual (read: lazy) journalists that find satisfaction in grouping Grizzly Bear in with other "animal name" bands, specifically Animal Collective, Wolf Eyes, or Panda Bear, thus placed under the continuously annoying "freak folk" genre. What absolves Yellow House from adorning such a label (one that has now become an uneasy staple in alternative music), aside from not yet being blessed by his highness Devendra, is Grizzly Bear's tremendous propensity for depth and activity (as opposed to passivity). One weakness, however generalized, with "freak-folk" is a sense of dispassionate disregard within the creation and output of music. That's not to say the output is worse or bad because of that-- I loved Cripple Crow just as much as anyone else--but it is to say that while on one hand, "freak folk" is more free, rawer, more elemental, it nevertheless can be called out for the too-often causal approach to its creation. Grizzly Bear completely and passionately reject such procedure. The only thing "freak" about Grizzly Bear is the unusually outstanding, brilliant quality of their music.
Yellow House is certainly not an album to be missed. When a piece of music comes along that has the power to completely sway emotions, to become a literal presense in the room, among your surroundings, it becomes a piece of you. Yellow House won't be life changing for all of us, but given the time and attention it undoubtedly deserves, anyone can fall in love with this album. Beyond its walls, above its atmospheric soundscapes, dispersed throughout its never-ending universe of sound and beauty are hundreds and hundreds of beckoning notes, chords, harmonies, euphonies, overtones, and melodies staring down at us, staring deep inside each and every one of us, revealing things we never knew existed. We should all be thankful we can be part of such introspection and discovery.
I'd say I’m a pretty open-minded rap fan. I won’t refuse to listen to Jay-Z just cuz I’m a big Nas fan, and I like the words of Big L after thirty weed-inspired minutes of A Tribe Called Quest. I heard that Jurassic 5 was coming out with a new album, Feedback, so I checked it out... - by Louie Michaud
Now I haven’t followed J5 near as much as most other rap groups, but I’ve listened to all of Quality Control (liked it) and a few singles, and I also know that they have a strong reputation. But I just finished listening to this album for the kajillionth time, and oh man... it is frickin’ awful. You know on Dane Cook’s latest CD when he’s talking about certain sounds that for some reason make you wanna punch a baby, but he never really says what those sounds are? It wouldn't be surprising to find the cheesy piano on "Back 4 You," the beat from "Radio" (which sounds like Japanese Pop set in the 1980’s), and the constipated whispers from Dave Matthews’ inexplicable appearance gracing that infuriating soundtrack. I honestly cringed in horror, horror, when I first heard Matthews' voice on "Work It Out." I mean... why? If J5 is trying to crossover into another genre, why choose this fool? I really can't think of any other rock musician that I would want less on a hip-hop single... maybe that guy from Creed. The really tragic thing is that the rhymes are pretty good alone... so maybe if you’re a fan of Matthews you’ll like it. I don’t.
I really just don’t get it. It’s like J5 tried to expand their fan base, but coincidentally they made this really strange music that seems frozen in time: an album that's too unorthodox for the old school but too dull for anything new. There are a few tracks where the lines are pretty good, such as "Where We At," but there was nothing said that really got my attention, and I didn’t get the same feel of the mc’s feeding off of each other like I did with Quality Control. The best stuff I heard was mediocre in comparison to most of the other stuff I’ve listened to. On "End Up Like This," J5 tries to get the message across that we behave differently than we used to, cuz that’s never been said before. But the way they do it is so boring, so filtered—with lines like "We used to play with toy guns / Now we bust real ones." Biggie’s "Things Done Changed" pretty much has the same message, but is done in a far more exciting way. I hate to say it, but even The Massacre has a few songs like "Disco Inferno" that have purpose, where you can dance and justifiably get f%#!ed up to them.
Feedback did almost nothing for me; it was a huge disappointment all around. Here's a track from Feedback...think I'm lying? Judge for youself. If you enjoy the Feedback stuff as much as J5's old stuff, then congrats to you for finding more survivors in this train wreck than I could. I’m willing to give J5 another chance, especially because Feedback was without DJ Cut Chemist, but in the meantime I’ll be building a panic room so this album can't track me down.
A sophomore album is (probably) the most important record for any musician to release. Debut albums are a way for an artist to test the waters, tame the masses, and establish themselves with good reviews, respectable hype, and novice excitement. Good examples of such a debut would be bands like The Arcade Fire, Beirut, and The Postal Service. Do these bands have an expiration date? Can they meet the hype and expectations? Are they a "one album wonder?" All of the questions and concerns for an entire discography can be satiated with one sophomore release. - by Nathaniel Gravely
Here is a band that had a solid debut album with a simple combination of a guitar, witty lyrics, and a catchy set of vocal chords. A band that hates the corporate rock scene so much they named themselves The Format mocking the typical corporate rock format used to sell albums. A band whose two (main) founding members are barely in their 20's and have been dumped by their record label...twice! A band that recently released a sophomore album that knocked me off my feet.
Dog Problems is the follow-up to the 2003 debut Interventions and Lullabies, which was chock full of catchy lyrics, acoustic guitar, and sprinkled with enough pop melodies to entice the likes of pop-punk hipsters and hormonal teenagers alike. Also gobbling up their infectious sound were major label buffs at Atlantic. Soon after joining the folks at Atlantic - the work on Dog Problems commenced. It was within this "new work" that Atlantic started complaining. Like most major record companies, they wanted Nate and Sam to make a lot of the same music that was found on their debut and take the "safe route" to successful record sales with their already winning concoction. Unable to reach a compromise, Atlantic dropped the boys...twice. Instead of throwing in a towel soaked in frustration, disappointment, and anger, The Format somehow turned the sour taste of musical transactions into a creative reformation.
Flirting with the very essence of pop perfection, The Format open their latest album with two (great) songs that set the tone for the record. "Matches" begins the record with whimsical keys and xylophone while ending in a crescendo of haunting vocals and fluttering harp. Segueing flawlessly into the second track, "I'm Actual" is where listeners can gain a good idea of what to expect from the album. Lyrics taken from personal experience (Can we please take this hour and talk about me? / And my hatred for corporate magazines / You know they don't speak to me / The irony is they won't speak with me), catchy vocal melodies, and more instrumentation found in one track than on the entirety of their debut. By this point, many of their MTV-watching fans of their first album are will be officially scratching their heads by the conclusion of this track. Those that know better will be applauding.
With the musical mood set, the songs only get better as the album progresses. The ghost of Freddie Mercury seems ever present in the extremely vocal "Time Bomb," while "She Doesn't Get It" and "Pick Me Up" cover topics of casual sex and the struggles of being self sufficient all while making you want to break into dance. Then comes the title track of the album, and by all means the best song they've ever created. With more ups and downs than Keith Richards on a weekend, "Dog Problems" has brilliant orchestration and lyrics influenced by their MySpace driven fans ("Boys in swooping haircuts are bringing me down taking pictures of themselves"). Other tracks of notable merit include "The Compromise," written about their conflicts with major record labels, my personal/lyrical favorite "Inches and Falling," and a closing song, "If Work Permits," that has one of the hardest hitting musical transitions since Neutral Milk Hotel'sHolland, 1945.
If there's any justice in this world, Dog Problems will be one of your favorite summer records, the undoubtedly shell-shocked scenesters will get over themselves to soak in this gem, and The Format will advance as trendsetters in the music business with a new format that'll have everyone saying "Damn, now that's how you make a sophomore album."
