Just past the mid-point of 2009, and what music have I been listening to? Well, I'm glad you asked. As advertized, my intake of new music has dwindled considerably, though this year there's a been a slight uptick over last year, still on the trade-in/store-credit regime.
In another entry I may touch on some of my other listening, but for this post, I'll briefly comment just on the four cds released this year that I have acquired:
Neko Case, Middle Cyclone: an excellent album, though I admit I haven't entered into a zone of obsession with it yet, as I did almost immediately with Fox Confessor Brings the Flood; whatever happens, it's always great listening to that wonderful voice. She can sing. Could do without "Marais la Nuit", the album-closing 30+ minute track of crickets chirping. It's fine once but I tend to skip over it. So far I haven't really zeroed in on most of the lyrics, but I do love this from "This Tornado Loves You": "I have waited with a glacier's patience..."
Bill Callahan, Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle: this got mostly rave reviews, with listeners seeming to think it's Bill's best record since Smog's Dongs of Sevotion (1999) or, possibly, Knock Knock (1998). For one thing, this view completely overlooks the classics Supper (2003) and A River Ain't Too Much to Love (2005), both of which are far better, in my opinion, than either of the earlier two (both of which, don't misunderstand, I like just fine, though at this late date the latter especially seems a bit over-produced). For another, I think it slightly overrates the new album. It is indeed better than his last album, the disappointing Woke on a Whaleheart, the first under his own name, though that's not saying much by itself (although I admit that I have a soft spot for that one, too, even if I recognize that it's easily his worst record since he started actually writing songs instead of playing with noise). That said, increasingly, I do like the new album. "Jim Cain" is great; "Eid Ma Clack Shaw", "The Wind and the Dove", and "Too Many Birds" are quite good; I'm coming around with repeated listens to "My Friend" and "All Thoughts are Prey to Some Beast"--at first I was thrown by his uncharacteristically emotive vocals in these two, but I believe I've gotten over it. "Rococo Zephyr" is pleasant enough, perhaps overly placid, yet it features this great line, my favorite on the record: "I used to be sorta blind, now I can sorta see." Throughout, the writing is stronger than on Whaleheart, the production is less cluttered and random, and Bill's singing is fascinating as ever, so there is much to recommend it, even if it doesn't reach the consistent heights of his masterpiece Red Apple Falls (1997) or the two mid-decade titles mentioned above. By far the worst track is the finale, "Faith/Void", which I'm afraid is simply an awful song. With the repeated line about it being "time to put God away", it sounds like a song that could have been commissioned by Richard Dawkins. I don't object to the sentiment per se (except that I've always liked how Bill has seemed able to tap into some kind of mystery), except that's all it seems like. The main problem with it is that it's utterly boring, and goes on for nearly ten minutes. I've given it several chances, but ugh.
Sonic Youth, The Eternal: well, yes. After all that, yes. What can I say. It fucking rocks. It's better than "Rather Ripped", about on par with (the excellent) Sonic Nurse or Murrary Street, much better than career nadirs Experimental Jet Set & No Star or Dirty (yes, I said it; Dirty is far and away the most overrated album in Sonic Youth's catalog--Woebot was right [link re-found via Matthew Ingram's own contribution to the SY kerfuffle, in which he backs off of his earlier Woebot-era bash a bit], in retrospect this is where they seemed to lose the thread, and they bottomed out with Experimental Jet Set; in my view they re-found it, beginning, tentatively, with Washing Machine, but it took a while), and naturally not the groundbreaker of EVOL, Sister, or Daydream Nation, or the consolidation of Goo. Full of Sonic Youthiness.
Animal Collective, Meriweather Post Pavilion: It has to be said: this is not Animal Collective's best album, though everyone seems to think it is. It's very good, yes, yes, very good, don't get me wrong. But it disturbs me that this happens with every artist. The best album is always the most accessible. Even fans too often get caught up in the idea that a band's rough edges, disturbing tendencies, whatever might be unassimilable, must be ironed out in order for maturity or growth or whatever to occur. I'm sure Animal Collective are just doing what they want, and what they're doing is still pretty damn good, but those rough edges--the screaming, the meandering, the indulgences--were part of what had made them awesome.
Showing posts with label Animal Collective. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Animal Collective. Show all posts
Friday, July 10, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Top Albums of 2008 - A Comprehensive Survey
. . . and my favorite albums released in 2008 are:
1. Gang Gang Dance, Saint Dymphna
2. Juana Molina, Un Dia
3. Matmos, Supreme Balloon
4. The Mountain Goats, Heretic Pride
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
Hm. Right. Turns out these are the only four I have! The first three would have been contenders for a real top ten or twenty list, if only I'd listened to any new music last year, whereas Heretic Pride is the least essential Mountain Goats record ever. Which is not to say it's the worst, or even bad, but it feels decidedly unnecessary.
I post this half-list to highlight the change in my attitude towards music, including its relative absence on the blog over the last year-plus, as noted. This change might be worth investigating. I have a huge amount of music at my disposal. More than 2400 cds (down from a high of over 2700), more than 12,000 songs on the iPod. A few years ago I was averaging 250 cd purchases per year. Of course this is insane. There is no way to absorb such a quantity of music. I was vaguely conscious of this at the time of my greatest indulgence, but something was driving me, an urge, an obsession, a fear that I would miss out on something, not necessarily on something cool or hip or whatever, but something that I felt I needed, something that would be just around the corner, in the next batch, the next new cd or three, some sound that would hit me just right, something.
I'd hit a fruitful vein. Starting with a purchase of Built to Spill's then-new Keep it Like A Secret in 1999, when I truly encountered indie and the underground, I went nuts. I'd missed a lot, for one thing, and I wanted to catch up and, worse, keep up. And I could afford to. I was, at the time, flush. Lucky me. So I consumed. I bought in huge quantities. I wasn't exactly indiscriminate--I didn't buy everything--though in a sense I was, within a highly discriminating range. If something seemed like my kind of thing, I didn't hesitate. If there was buzz around an interesting sounding cd, I was on it. Pretty soon, though I had a lot of fun, I felt obligated to keep it going, this amassing of a library, this consumption, this keeping up. Eventually, much of the fun was sucked out of it. I'd already slowed down massively before I met Aimée, after which I was confronted with the basic truth that I had too much music to listen to. And that I no longer had the time to simply sit around listening to music. I fretted about this a bit, after all I had all of these cds, surely I should be using them. Plus, I still felt the need to keep abreast of new music, to keep up with the conversation, reading the music blogs. As noted by Scott at Pretty Goes With Pretty recently, most of the prominent music blogs are written by professional music critics. So attempting to keep up with a conversation with people who get most if not all of their music for free is a fool's game, a prescription for massive debt. And yet I felt compelled to do so.
Then, almost suddenly, there was a release, a great release of pressure. With a baby on the way--before this really, but it's a convenient enough time marker--I had to face up to the fact that I could no longer afford to buy new cds. And I had to acknowledge that I couldn't keep my beloved wall of cds continually on display in our tiny house. So I began systematically, as well as arbitrarily, selling some off; I decided I could only acquire new music if I got it on store credit. Finally, I put 85% of the rest of the collection in storage. As the year wore on, I still checked in with some of the music blogs, had a general idea what the big records were, even downloaded some tracks here and there, but by the end of the year, when the big best-of lists were announced, I noticed both how drab the music seemed and how little I cared. More to the point, I found that I liked that I didn't care.
I have more to say on this, touching on consumption, over-availability of cultural products, and so on, and how all of this actually contributed to the diminishment of music as a topic of interest, for writing or otherwise, but I'll leave that for another post.
(Oh, yeah, I do have Animal Collective's new album, Meriweather Post Pavilion. It's taken me a few listens to adjust to it, but I think it's phenomenal--I'm particularly partial to "Summertime Clothes" and "Brother Sport". Part of me still mourns the path not taken, from the Here Comes the Indian days, but no one does what they do, and what they do is beautiful and amazing.)
1. Gang Gang Dance, Saint Dymphna
2. Juana Molina, Un Dia
3. Matmos, Supreme Balloon
4. The Mountain Goats, Heretic Pride
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
Hm. Right. Turns out these are the only four I have! The first three would have been contenders for a real top ten or twenty list, if only I'd listened to any new music last year, whereas Heretic Pride is the least essential Mountain Goats record ever. Which is not to say it's the worst, or even bad, but it feels decidedly unnecessary.
I post this half-list to highlight the change in my attitude towards music, including its relative absence on the blog over the last year-plus, as noted. This change might be worth investigating. I have a huge amount of music at my disposal. More than 2400 cds (down from a high of over 2700), more than 12,000 songs on the iPod. A few years ago I was averaging 250 cd purchases per year. Of course this is insane. There is no way to absorb such a quantity of music. I was vaguely conscious of this at the time of my greatest indulgence, but something was driving me, an urge, an obsession, a fear that I would miss out on something, not necessarily on something cool or hip or whatever, but something that I felt I needed, something that would be just around the corner, in the next batch, the next new cd or three, some sound that would hit me just right, something.
I'd hit a fruitful vein. Starting with a purchase of Built to Spill's then-new Keep it Like A Secret in 1999, when I truly encountered indie and the underground, I went nuts. I'd missed a lot, for one thing, and I wanted to catch up and, worse, keep up. And I could afford to. I was, at the time, flush. Lucky me. So I consumed. I bought in huge quantities. I wasn't exactly indiscriminate--I didn't buy everything--though in a sense I was, within a highly discriminating range. If something seemed like my kind of thing, I didn't hesitate. If there was buzz around an interesting sounding cd, I was on it. Pretty soon, though I had a lot of fun, I felt obligated to keep it going, this amassing of a library, this consumption, this keeping up. Eventually, much of the fun was sucked out of it. I'd already slowed down massively before I met Aimée, after which I was confronted with the basic truth that I had too much music to listen to. And that I no longer had the time to simply sit around listening to music. I fretted about this a bit, after all I had all of these cds, surely I should be using them. Plus, I still felt the need to keep abreast of new music, to keep up with the conversation, reading the music blogs. As noted by Scott at Pretty Goes With Pretty recently, most of the prominent music blogs are written by professional music critics. So attempting to keep up with a conversation with people who get most if not all of their music for free is a fool's game, a prescription for massive debt. And yet I felt compelled to do so.
Then, almost suddenly, there was a release, a great release of pressure. With a baby on the way--before this really, but it's a convenient enough time marker--I had to face up to the fact that I could no longer afford to buy new cds. And I had to acknowledge that I couldn't keep my beloved wall of cds continually on display in our tiny house. So I began systematically, as well as arbitrarily, selling some off; I decided I could only acquire new music if I got it on store credit. Finally, I put 85% of the rest of the collection in storage. As the year wore on, I still checked in with some of the music blogs, had a general idea what the big records were, even downloaded some tracks here and there, but by the end of the year, when the big best-of lists were announced, I noticed both how drab the music seemed and how little I cared. More to the point, I found that I liked that I didn't care.
I have more to say on this, touching on consumption, over-availability of cultural products, and so on, and how all of this actually contributed to the diminishment of music as a topic of interest, for writing or otherwise, but I'll leave that for another post.
(Oh, yeah, I do have Animal Collective's new album, Meriweather Post Pavilion. It's taken me a few listens to adjust to it, but I think it's phenomenal--I'm particularly partial to "Summertime Clothes" and "Brother Sport". Part of me still mourns the path not taken, from the Here Comes the Indian days, but no one does what they do, and what they do is beautiful and amazing.)
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Listening Notes
Animal Collective – Strawberry Jam. In retrospect, it seems churlish to complain about a band’s "direction" when they are capable of a record as delightful as Strawberry Jam. Suddenly, I've become obsessed with it. Its surfaces do seem a bit shinier, smoother, than other Animal Collective music, and the vocals are definitely cleaner, clearer, and higher in the mix. But still, this music is addictive, and, as ever, the sense of controlled chaos is thrilling. "Peacebone", "For Reverend Green", and "Fireworks" are the standouts. Also, there's rarely much cause to quote lyrics from an Animal Collective song, but somehow this line from "Peacebone" makes me happy: "The other side of takeout is mildew on rice. "
Robert Wyatt – Comicopera. I parenthetically highlighted "Be Serious" in this post, but in fact it's my least favorite song on this excellent album. One might think this is because the opening lyrics are trite: "I really envy Christians, I envy Muslims too/It must be great to be so sure/Like a top Hindu or Jew." But really, it's Wyatt's singing of these opening words that irritates the hell out of me. Wyatt's voice was an acquired taste for me, and I've come to really appreciate it and his phrasing. But it's annoying here. The rest of the album is great; I'm not sure I think it's as good as Cuckooland, but I'm not complaining. It's pretty much alternating with Strawberry Jam in the competition for my obsessive attentions of late.
Neko Case. In my short wrap-up of my year in music, I'd expected to expend more words than I did on Neko Case's wonderful, enigmatic Fox Confessor Brings the Flood. I didn't even say anything about her beautiful voice. But then, what is there to say? (A question that is a sure sign that, once again, I've drawn a blank.) On Scraps' advice, I'm moving backwards through her catalog, one album at a time. To that end, I've picked up Blacklisted. Early verdict (after about a half-dozen listens): quite good. As expected it has more of a country feel.
Deerhoof – Friend Opportunity. I'd meant to say this in the earlier post, but I completely forgot: after having trouble with this album all year, I spent some quality time with it in November and December (which is to say that I listened to it over and over again for several weeks, alongside my continuous play of Fox Confessor Brings the Flood, much to Aimée's dismay), and now I don't know what my problem was. This is perfectly good Deerhoof music. Which is to say that it's mostly great. It's very short, which I think was part of my problem with it (but then my complaint about Runners Four was that it was too long, so what the fuck?). The first nine songs speed by, the songs seeming to run together, before we get to the comparatively aimless and quiet (but plenty interesting) 12-minute closer, "Look Away". I'm sure I wasn't even paying attention with those several early spins (excuses: iPod, work), and the next thing I'd know the album was over, leaving me with nothing to hang a verdict on. In fact, those first nine songs, beginning with the great "The Perfect Me", and including "+81", "Choco Fight", and "Whither the Invisible Birds", are exhilarating. It helps their cause to have Satomi Matsuzaki on lead vocals. (Greg Saunier's lead on "Cast Off Crown" comes dangerously close to generic indie Death Cab vocal, thus amounting to the weakest aspect of the nine songs, but even that song brings the serious guitar and drums glory).
Other recent acquisitions: new cds from Jackie-O Motherfucker (Valley of Fire) and Six Organs of Admittance (Shelter from the Ash) (net cd reduction: 54). Neither of these albums break new ground for these artists, but I'm enjoying them. The Jackie-O cd, I think, is more interesting than the last couple of have been. The Six Organs is not quite as good as either School of the Flower or The Sun Awakens, but those are both great albums, so that's ok (incidentally, the Pitchfork review of the new one is just terrible).
Music writing elsewhere:
Some great year-end thoughts from janedark. On M.I.A.; on Britney Spears (with a nice paragraph on Neil Young's archival Massey Hall concert album); on Miranda Lambert & Taylor Swift and pop critics and what they notice; on Lil Wayne and the possible "near-future" for the album as a form.
Also on M.I.A. and The Wire and the idea of "Neoliberal Grotesque", see I Hear a New World.
And a while ago, John at uTopianTurtletop had a thoughtful response to Carl Wilson's new book about Celine Dion and the question of taste (Let's Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste). One quote that appealed to me from John's post:
Robert Wyatt – Comicopera. I parenthetically highlighted "Be Serious" in this post, but in fact it's my least favorite song on this excellent album. One might think this is because the opening lyrics are trite: "I really envy Christians, I envy Muslims too/It must be great to be so sure/Like a top Hindu or Jew." But really, it's Wyatt's singing of these opening words that irritates the hell out of me. Wyatt's voice was an acquired taste for me, and I've come to really appreciate it and his phrasing. But it's annoying here. The rest of the album is great; I'm not sure I think it's as good as Cuckooland, but I'm not complaining. It's pretty much alternating with Strawberry Jam in the competition for my obsessive attentions of late.
Neko Case. In my short wrap-up of my year in music, I'd expected to expend more words than I did on Neko Case's wonderful, enigmatic Fox Confessor Brings the Flood. I didn't even say anything about her beautiful voice. But then, what is there to say? (A question that is a sure sign that, once again, I've drawn a blank.) On Scraps' advice, I'm moving backwards through her catalog, one album at a time. To that end, I've picked up Blacklisted. Early verdict (after about a half-dozen listens): quite good. As expected it has more of a country feel.
Deerhoof – Friend Opportunity. I'd meant to say this in the earlier post, but I completely forgot: after having trouble with this album all year, I spent some quality time with it in November and December (which is to say that I listened to it over and over again for several weeks, alongside my continuous play of Fox Confessor Brings the Flood, much to Aimée's dismay), and now I don't know what my problem was. This is perfectly good Deerhoof music. Which is to say that it's mostly great. It's very short, which I think was part of my problem with it (but then my complaint about Runners Four was that it was too long, so what the fuck?). The first nine songs speed by, the songs seeming to run together, before we get to the comparatively aimless and quiet (but plenty interesting) 12-minute closer, "Look Away". I'm sure I wasn't even paying attention with those several early spins (excuses: iPod, work), and the next thing I'd know the album was over, leaving me with nothing to hang a verdict on. In fact, those first nine songs, beginning with the great "The Perfect Me", and including "+81", "Choco Fight", and "Whither the Invisible Birds", are exhilarating. It helps their cause to have Satomi Matsuzaki on lead vocals. (Greg Saunier's lead on "Cast Off Crown" comes dangerously close to generic indie Death Cab vocal, thus amounting to the weakest aspect of the nine songs, but even that song brings the serious guitar and drums glory).
Other recent acquisitions: new cds from Jackie-O Motherfucker (Valley of Fire) and Six Organs of Admittance (Shelter from the Ash) (net cd reduction: 54). Neither of these albums break new ground for these artists, but I'm enjoying them. The Jackie-O cd, I think, is more interesting than the last couple of have been. The Six Organs is not quite as good as either School of the Flower or The Sun Awakens, but those are both great albums, so that's ok (incidentally, the Pitchfork review of the new one is just terrible).
Music writing elsewhere:
Some great year-end thoughts from janedark. On M.I.A.; on Britney Spears (with a nice paragraph on Neil Young's archival Massey Hall concert album); on Miranda Lambert & Taylor Swift and pop critics and what they notice; on Lil Wayne and the possible "near-future" for the album as a form.
Also on M.I.A. and The Wire and the idea of "Neoliberal Grotesque", see I Hear a New World.
And a while ago, John at uTopianTurtletop had a thoughtful response to Carl Wilson's new book about Celine Dion and the question of taste (Let's Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste). One quote that appealed to me from John's post:
Persuasive history of how elitist sensibility shifted from defending cultural hierarchies (classics high, pop genres low) to seeking the unattainable ideal of cultural omnivore-ism. This nails me to my wall. I have a humanist defense of at least partial omnivore-ism, which I don’t think Carl would disagree with: People love their cultures for reasons; the more we can understand why and how others do, the more we can love as well; more love is good. Let’s love!I know I've read some good stuff that I'm leaving out, but my back hurts and I'm tired, so I'm out...
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Listening Year 2007
How do I explain my utter indifference to Radiohead's In Rainbows, which everyone seems to think is awesome? It's true that I generally don't care for their previous album, Hail to the Thief. But still, Amnesiac is the album prior to that, and I'm always saying that it's their best (which it clearly is). So why the lack of interest? A few reasons, I think. First, I was unimpressed by the whole pay-what-you-like download gambit. I mean good for them and everything, but I had a hard time getting worked up over it as this great revolutionary act. Besides, I still don't like downloading albums. Second, as reported earlier, my relationship towards music has changed, I think irrevocably. I no longer care much about keeping up with new music. I still occasionally feel that tug of curiosity when I read about this or that record, but rarely enough of one to pursue much further. This doesn't mean no more new records, but it does mean I'm being a lot more parsimonious with my music funds. (And for the time being, it still means that what I can't get with trade-in funds, I can't get.) Third, and this time more specific to Radiohead, though still not much of an explanation: I don't know, somehow I just don't care. There was something about the nature of the transition from Amnesiac to Hail to the Thief that has made this listener lose almost total interest in new Radiohead music.
So, at least for now, no In Rainbows.
However, even without new Radiohead, I did have a pretty good listening year in 2007. In line with the second point above, and as expected, there was no end-of-year best-of music post here at The Existence Machine, but here is some of the music I spent a lot of time with:
Neko Case - Fox Confessor Brings the Flood. It took a couple of listens for me to warm to it, but over the course of dozens of listens since, this has become one of my favorite albums, period. I love every moment of it. Even after excessive exposure, it still seems to me to be somewhat mysterious. I'd love to say a lot more about it, but words are failing me. It's great, that's all. I'd never paid any attention to Neko Case before now, but I expect to be looking into her back catalog.
Bill Callahan - Woke on a Whaleheart. This is not the essential album that certain Smog releases are (Red Apple Falls, A River Ain't Too Much to Love, Wild Love, The Doctor Came At Dawn, Dongs of Sevotion), and on the first few listens, I didn't find much to like at all. But I kept coming back to it. If I was listening to it, I was listening to it obsessively, every day, possibly a few times a day, for several days on end. There's something about it that is both awkward and compulsively listenable. Overall, it doesn't seem to me that Callahan's lyrics are as memorable or as interesting as usual, but his rich baritone is always a pleasure, and the music has an easygoing yet still prickly atmosphere. It could be likened to classic rock, and yet I'm not sure what specific classic rock I could fruitfully compare it to. The opening track, "From the Rivers to the Ocean", probably the best song on the album, does have some lines I like: "Have faith in wordless knowledge"; "I could tell you about the river/or/we could just get in"; "And it's hard to explain what I was doin' or thinkin' before you". I'd say that "The Wheel" has a real hootenanny flavor, except that I've never experienced a hootenanny. But it feels communal and joyous, and I like how he speaks each line before he sings it. Other songs are loose and casual, inviting but not at the level of great Smog songs of the past. This is the kind of minor catalog album that reminds me of an artist's greatness. (Though if Callahan settled into a groove releasing only this kind of thing, I think I'd lose interest.)
Robert Plant & Alison Krauss - Raising Sand. I was surprised as hell when I heard about this collaboration. Then I read about it in detail in The New York Times, and I was convinced I would buy it. I love Led Zeppelin, of course, and Plant's solo career has been pretty damn good, all things considered. But as he's gotten older, Plant's voice has become much better suited to mellower fare than to trying to belt out something like "Black Dog" like he's 25. I'm thinking of something like "29 Palms", my favorite song on the uneven Fate of Nations album. Here, he sounds great singing rockabilly and country rock, and he and and the excellent Krauss mesh very well together. My only complaint about it is that T-Bone Burnett's production sort of smoothes out some of the edges, which can create something of a somnolent effect on this listener. But this is a real treat.
Panda Bear - Person Pitch/Animal Collective - Strawberry Jam. I preferred Person Pitch to the group's Strawberry Jam. The latter has seemed at times overly shiny, and though I've liked each phase of the group's development, with each release Animal Collective gets further and further away from something elusive that drew me to them. For some, Feels was a sign that the group had fashioned an "indie rock" version of their sound. I wasn't concerned; I love Feels (again, I can listen to the gorgeous "Banshee Beat" all day long, and sometimes do). But Strawberry Jam is perhaps evidence that they've settled into that polished version of their previous selves a little too comfortably. Don't misunderstand: Strawberry Jam is quite good, and I'm liking it more the more I listen to it, but if you listen to the fragile Spirit They're Gone, Spirit They've Vanished or the utterly strange and marvelous Here Comes the Indian maybe what I'm saying will start to make sense. . . I don't know, maybe not. Person Pitch, on the other hand, is glorious and significant evidence by itself that the collective still has a lot of excellent music to offer. (To be fair, Strawberry Jam isn't really evidence that they don't.)
The Necks. My favorite "new" band. Naturally, they've been around for more than a decade and have several recordings, all available (or not) as expensive imports. Awesome. Just what I need in my life these days. Anyway, Chemist was my second favorite album from 2006. It has three tracks, each about 20 minutes long. It comes up on iTunes as "jazz" and you could call it that, but somehow that seems not quite right. It's minimal at times, improvisational. They elaborate on themes, creating wondrously beautiful trance effects out of simple elements: bass, drums, piano, maybe some guitar, some electronics. I love it. When we visited California in April of last year, I looked for their other albums at Aquarius in San Francisco. I found several, all fairly expensive, as CDs go; most of them featuring one hour-long track. I ended up walking out with two: Hanging Gardens and The Boys. The latter, a soundtrack to a film by that name, features shorter tracks, none over eleven minutes. I chose it just for that reason. Now I wish I hadn't--not because I don't like it, but because Hanging Gardens convinces me that the Necks need more room in which to operate. It's a single hour-long track, and it's simply wonderful. Now I am coveting all those albums I left behind, especially Aether, and I also have my eyes on the four-cd (and priced accordingly), four-track Athenaeum, Homebush, Quay & Raab. Plus, apparently there was a new live album released in 2007 that I missed, called Townsville.
Those were the main high points of my year in music. LCD Soundsystem's Sound of Silver has like three or four great songs, and I listened to those songs a lot. As ever, I spend a lot of time listening to Bob Dylan, the Mountain Goats, Sonic Youth, the Rolling Stones, and loads of other records that now escape me. A lot of time enjoying the virtual radio of my iPod on shuffle. And that's about it.
So, at least for now, no In Rainbows.
However, even without new Radiohead, I did have a pretty good listening year in 2007. In line with the second point above, and as expected, there was no end-of-year best-of music post here at The Existence Machine, but here is some of the music I spent a lot of time with:
Neko Case - Fox Confessor Brings the Flood. It took a couple of listens for me to warm to it, but over the course of dozens of listens since, this has become one of my favorite albums, period. I love every moment of it. Even after excessive exposure, it still seems to me to be somewhat mysterious. I'd love to say a lot more about it, but words are failing me. It's great, that's all. I'd never paid any attention to Neko Case before now, but I expect to be looking into her back catalog.
Bill Callahan - Woke on a Whaleheart. This is not the essential album that certain Smog releases are (Red Apple Falls, A River Ain't Too Much to Love, Wild Love, The Doctor Came At Dawn, Dongs of Sevotion), and on the first few listens, I didn't find much to like at all. But I kept coming back to it. If I was listening to it, I was listening to it obsessively, every day, possibly a few times a day, for several days on end. There's something about it that is both awkward and compulsively listenable. Overall, it doesn't seem to me that Callahan's lyrics are as memorable or as interesting as usual, but his rich baritone is always a pleasure, and the music has an easygoing yet still prickly atmosphere. It could be likened to classic rock, and yet I'm not sure what specific classic rock I could fruitfully compare it to. The opening track, "From the Rivers to the Ocean", probably the best song on the album, does have some lines I like: "Have faith in wordless knowledge"; "I could tell you about the river/or/we could just get in"; "And it's hard to explain what I was doin' or thinkin' before you". I'd say that "The Wheel" has a real hootenanny flavor, except that I've never experienced a hootenanny. But it feels communal and joyous, and I like how he speaks each line before he sings it. Other songs are loose and casual, inviting but not at the level of great Smog songs of the past. This is the kind of minor catalog album that reminds me of an artist's greatness. (Though if Callahan settled into a groove releasing only this kind of thing, I think I'd lose interest.)
Robert Plant & Alison Krauss - Raising Sand. I was surprised as hell when I heard about this collaboration. Then I read about it in detail in The New York Times, and I was convinced I would buy it. I love Led Zeppelin, of course, and Plant's solo career has been pretty damn good, all things considered. But as he's gotten older, Plant's voice has become much better suited to mellower fare than to trying to belt out something like "Black Dog" like he's 25. I'm thinking of something like "29 Palms", my favorite song on the uneven Fate of Nations album. Here, he sounds great singing rockabilly and country rock, and he and and the excellent Krauss mesh very well together. My only complaint about it is that T-Bone Burnett's production sort of smoothes out some of the edges, which can create something of a somnolent effect on this listener. But this is a real treat.
Panda Bear - Person Pitch/Animal Collective - Strawberry Jam. I preferred Person Pitch to the group's Strawberry Jam. The latter has seemed at times overly shiny, and though I've liked each phase of the group's development, with each release Animal Collective gets further and further away from something elusive that drew me to them. For some, Feels was a sign that the group had fashioned an "indie rock" version of their sound. I wasn't concerned; I love Feels (again, I can listen to the gorgeous "Banshee Beat" all day long, and sometimes do). But Strawberry Jam is perhaps evidence that they've settled into that polished version of their previous selves a little too comfortably. Don't misunderstand: Strawberry Jam is quite good, and I'm liking it more the more I listen to it, but if you listen to the fragile Spirit They're Gone, Spirit They've Vanished or the utterly strange and marvelous Here Comes the Indian maybe what I'm saying will start to make sense. . . I don't know, maybe not. Person Pitch, on the other hand, is glorious and significant evidence by itself that the collective still has a lot of excellent music to offer. (To be fair, Strawberry Jam isn't really evidence that they don't.)
The Necks. My favorite "new" band. Naturally, they've been around for more than a decade and have several recordings, all available (or not) as expensive imports. Awesome. Just what I need in my life these days. Anyway, Chemist was my second favorite album from 2006. It has three tracks, each about 20 minutes long. It comes up on iTunes as "jazz" and you could call it that, but somehow that seems not quite right. It's minimal at times, improvisational. They elaborate on themes, creating wondrously beautiful trance effects out of simple elements: bass, drums, piano, maybe some guitar, some electronics. I love it. When we visited California in April of last year, I looked for their other albums at Aquarius in San Francisco. I found several, all fairly expensive, as CDs go; most of them featuring one hour-long track. I ended up walking out with two: Hanging Gardens and The Boys. The latter, a soundtrack to a film by that name, features shorter tracks, none over eleven minutes. I chose it just for that reason. Now I wish I hadn't--not because I don't like it, but because Hanging Gardens convinces me that the Necks need more room in which to operate. It's a single hour-long track, and it's simply wonderful. Now I am coveting all those albums I left behind, especially Aether, and I also have my eyes on the four-cd (and priced accordingly), four-track Athenaeum, Homebush, Quay & Raab. Plus, apparently there was a new live album released in 2007 that I missed, called Townsville.
Those were the main high points of my year in music. LCD Soundsystem's Sound of Silver has like three or four great songs, and I listened to those songs a lot. As ever, I spend a lot of time listening to Bob Dylan, the Mountain Goats, Sonic Youth, the Rolling Stones, and loads of other records that now escape me. A lot of time enjoying the virtual radio of my iPod on shuffle. And that's about it.
Monday, October 15, 2007
new music
I've mentioned more than once that I've been getting rid of music, and also that I haven't been acquiring a lot of new music. I have managed to get some cds with store credits from my trade-ins, only a few of which are 2007 releases (unlike last year, there is not likely to be a year-end best-of post here).
This is the entire list of 2007 albums that I have (those marked * were acquired with store credit):
*Animal Collective - Strawberry Jam (only a few listens, pretty good)
Bowerbirds - Hymns for a Dark Horse (bought at the Mountain Goats show where they opened; the album is quite nice, if a little samey)
Bill Callahan - Woke on a Whaleheart (had a hard time with this at first, then it was growing on me, but it's been months since I last played it and I can't really say what I think of it now)
Deerhoof - Friend Opportunity (still resisting me; not nearly so good as Reveille or Apple O')
*Feist - The Reminder (pretty; finding it alternately boring and excellent, depending on my mood)
Jesu - Conqueror (very good; expands on the awesomeness of last year's Silver ep)
Miranda Lambert - Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (awesome)
LCD Soundsystem - Sound of Silver (mostly excellent; I've praised "All My Friends", but "Us V Them" is also fantastic, as is "North American Scum", about which, incidentally, see this great Mike Barthel post at Clap Clap)
Modest Mouse - We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank (haven't warmed to it yet, but Scraps says it's great, so I should probably make more of an effort, considering Modest Mouse has been close to my favorite rock band in recent years)
Panda Bear - Person Pitch (months later, still my record of the year)
*Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga (sounds like a good Spoon album, which isn't a bad thing)
Vibracathedral Orchestra - Wisdom Thunderbolt (very good; quality drone music)
This is the entire list of 2007 albums that I have (those marked * were acquired with store credit):
*Animal Collective - Strawberry Jam (only a few listens, pretty good)
Bowerbirds - Hymns for a Dark Horse (bought at the Mountain Goats show where they opened; the album is quite nice, if a little samey)
Bill Callahan - Woke on a Whaleheart (had a hard time with this at first, then it was growing on me, but it's been months since I last played it and I can't really say what I think of it now)
Deerhoof - Friend Opportunity (still resisting me; not nearly so good as Reveille or Apple O')
*Feist - The Reminder (pretty; finding it alternately boring and excellent, depending on my mood)
Jesu - Conqueror (very good; expands on the awesomeness of last year's Silver ep)
Miranda Lambert - Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (awesome)
LCD Soundsystem - Sound of Silver (mostly excellent; I've praised "All My Friends", but "Us V Them" is also fantastic, as is "North American Scum", about which, incidentally, see this great Mike Barthel post at Clap Clap)
Modest Mouse - We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank (haven't warmed to it yet, but Scraps says it's great, so I should probably make more of an effort, considering Modest Mouse has been close to my favorite rock band in recent years)
Panda Bear - Person Pitch (months later, still my record of the year)
*Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga (sounds like a good Spoon album, which isn't a bad thing)
Vibracathedral Orchestra - Wisdom Thunderbolt (very good; quality drone music)
Thursday, May 10, 2007
iPod rundown - 05/10/07
1. Animal Collective - "Tell it to the Mountain": From the reissued live Hollindagain. Animal Collective are great live, but this track barely captures their chaotic glory. An electronic tone throughout much of it, alongside a sustained more or less wordless vocal is overtaken by some ecstatic, messy, sort of tribal drumming. That's about it.
2. Billy Holiday - "You Turned the Tables on Me": I listen to very little jazz vocal. I tend to prefer Holiday to a singer like Ella Fitzgerald, though many of her songs seem to end on the same note, as she dramatically delivers the final words, which I do find a little off-putting. This lovely song is on Solitude. At our wedding, our first dance was to Holiday's version of "Love is Here to Stay".
3. Arthur Russell - "Let's Go Swimming (Walter Gibbons mix): Like a lot of people, I suspect, I only heard of Russell in the last few years; curious (and unduly obsessed with filling in the gaps of post-punk), I bought the Soul Jazz comp The World of Arthur Russell, which focuses on his disco-related music. I do like his take on disco, but that has not translated into great reverence. Russell's thin and distant vocal was initially off-putting for me, but not too much so. The percussion is great.
4. Feist - "Lonely Lonely": People are raving about Feist's new album, The Reminder (though I have seen rumblings that it represents the adult-contemporification of indie rock). I haven't heard it. This is off her last album, Let it Die, which I bought because we love her cover of the Bee Gees song, "Inside and Out", that appears on it. The album itself is pleasant enough, though I haven't listened to it closely. "Lonely Lonely" is a good one, sounds like a fresh take on a singer-singwriter sound.
5. Wire - "Marooned": Chairs Missing is great of course.
6. Bardo Pond - "Ganges": I often forget about Bardo Pond, but I always enjoy when one of their songs comes on. This 11-minute instrumental begins with alternating channels of psychedelic electric guitar, which fades after less than a minute. The track settles into a slow, mellow fuzz groove; about seven minutes in, drums and guitar get progressively busier above it, before settling down toward the end of the track. Great music to work to. Dilate is the album.
7. Smog - "Cold Blooded Old Times": One of the best songs on Knock Knock. An insistent rock guitar and nice piano, which ends in a great squall of guitar and piano noise. Some lyrics: "the type of memories that turn your bones to glass" and "in this way they gave you clarity, a cold-blooded clarity". I still haven't been able to pick up the new Bill Callahan record.
8. The Jayhawks - "I'd Run Away": For a while, I thought I was interested in keeping up with various stripes of alt-country bands (this didn't last very long; most of them are pretty boring--cf. The Old 97s). One of my favorite such records is Tomorrow the Green Grass, which includes this song. A lot of what I loved about the record was Mark Olson's vocals, and he left the band after this album. So I lost interest, though I know people who swear by the follow-up, Sound of Lies.
9. Outkast - "Liberation": Damn this is a beautiful song. Why do I feel like I've never heard it before? I've had Aquemini for years (since it came out in 1998, I'm sure). At more than 8 minutes, this is one of the longer rap songs I'm aware of. Just drums, piano, bass. I should probably listen to this cd more often.
10. The Vandermark 5 - "Cruz Campo (For Gerhard Richter)": Airports for Light was produced by Bob Weston of Shellac and, of late, Mission of Burma, and it sounds great. This is solid, workmanlike modern jazz, in the traditions of free bop and free jazz. I saw the group play in Chicago at the Empty Bottle (also in the audience: Peter Brotzmann! Joe McPhee!).
11. The Notorious B.I.G. - "Respect": There's a reason Ready to Die is considered a classic. I still don't have much intelligent to say about rap.
12. Miles Davis Quintet - "You're My Everything": The first great quintet, with Coltrane, Red Garland, Paul Chambers, Philly Jo Jones. This stuff is pretty much the dictionary definition of jazz for me, so it's hard to imagine that there were those who reacted negatively to it at the time. This comes from Relaxin' with Miles.
13. Pixies - "Planet of Sound": I've been sort of bored by the Pixies lately. Or, bored by the idea of them, bored by their position as indie rock gods. But a song like "Planet of Sound" comes on, and well. I've tended to favor the raw, bare-bones, Albini-recorded Surfer Rosa and not given enough attention to the last Pixies album, Trompe le Monde, which gives us this song. It's hard to say why; I'm always surprised by how great it is. There's a lot going on in these songs.
14. Mia Doi Todd - "88 Ways": I'd never heard of Mia Doi Todd before John Darnielle raved about her most recent cd, Manzanita, when it was released a couple of years ago. I bought that album and the earlier, major-label album The Golden State, which includes "88 Ways". I love Todd's voice. Manzanita is beautiful, and its spare production is much more to my liking than is Mitchell Froom's overly busy production on The Golden State. Still, the latter is a good album nonetheless.
15. Belly - "Super-Connected": This is a pretty basic, engaging rock song from the second Belly cd, King. Tanya Donelly's Belly had some good songs, but they were nothing like as good as her previous band, the great Throwing Muses.
2. Billy Holiday - "You Turned the Tables on Me": I listen to very little jazz vocal. I tend to prefer Holiday to a singer like Ella Fitzgerald, though many of her songs seem to end on the same note, as she dramatically delivers the final words, which I do find a little off-putting. This lovely song is on Solitude. At our wedding, our first dance was to Holiday's version of "Love is Here to Stay".
3. Arthur Russell - "Let's Go Swimming (Walter Gibbons mix): Like a lot of people, I suspect, I only heard of Russell in the last few years; curious (and unduly obsessed with filling in the gaps of post-punk), I bought the Soul Jazz comp The World of Arthur Russell, which focuses on his disco-related music. I do like his take on disco, but that has not translated into great reverence. Russell's thin and distant vocal was initially off-putting for me, but not too much so. The percussion is great.
4. Feist - "Lonely Lonely": People are raving about Feist's new album, The Reminder (though I have seen rumblings that it represents the adult-contemporification of indie rock). I haven't heard it. This is off her last album, Let it Die, which I bought because we love her cover of the Bee Gees song, "Inside and Out", that appears on it. The album itself is pleasant enough, though I haven't listened to it closely. "Lonely Lonely" is a good one, sounds like a fresh take on a singer-singwriter sound.
5. Wire - "Marooned": Chairs Missing is great of course.
6. Bardo Pond - "Ganges": I often forget about Bardo Pond, but I always enjoy when one of their songs comes on. This 11-minute instrumental begins with alternating channels of psychedelic electric guitar, which fades after less than a minute. The track settles into a slow, mellow fuzz groove; about seven minutes in, drums and guitar get progressively busier above it, before settling down toward the end of the track. Great music to work to. Dilate is the album.
7. Smog - "Cold Blooded Old Times": One of the best songs on Knock Knock. An insistent rock guitar and nice piano, which ends in a great squall of guitar and piano noise. Some lyrics: "the type of memories that turn your bones to glass" and "in this way they gave you clarity, a cold-blooded clarity". I still haven't been able to pick up the new Bill Callahan record.
8. The Jayhawks - "I'd Run Away": For a while, I thought I was interested in keeping up with various stripes of alt-country bands (this didn't last very long; most of them are pretty boring--cf. The Old 97s). One of my favorite such records is Tomorrow the Green Grass, which includes this song. A lot of what I loved about the record was Mark Olson's vocals, and he left the band after this album. So I lost interest, though I know people who swear by the follow-up, Sound of Lies.
9. Outkast - "Liberation": Damn this is a beautiful song. Why do I feel like I've never heard it before? I've had Aquemini for years (since it came out in 1998, I'm sure). At more than 8 minutes, this is one of the longer rap songs I'm aware of. Just drums, piano, bass. I should probably listen to this cd more often.
10. The Vandermark 5 - "Cruz Campo (For Gerhard Richter)": Airports for Light was produced by Bob Weston of Shellac and, of late, Mission of Burma, and it sounds great. This is solid, workmanlike modern jazz, in the traditions of free bop and free jazz. I saw the group play in Chicago at the Empty Bottle (also in the audience: Peter Brotzmann! Joe McPhee!).
11. The Notorious B.I.G. - "Respect": There's a reason Ready to Die is considered a classic. I still don't have much intelligent to say about rap.
12. Miles Davis Quintet - "You're My Everything": The first great quintet, with Coltrane, Red Garland, Paul Chambers, Philly Jo Jones. This stuff is pretty much the dictionary definition of jazz for me, so it's hard to imagine that there were those who reacted negatively to it at the time. This comes from Relaxin' with Miles.
13. Pixies - "Planet of Sound": I've been sort of bored by the Pixies lately. Or, bored by the idea of them, bored by their position as indie rock gods. But a song like "Planet of Sound" comes on, and well. I've tended to favor the raw, bare-bones, Albini-recorded Surfer Rosa and not given enough attention to the last Pixies album, Trompe le Monde, which gives us this song. It's hard to say why; I'm always surprised by how great it is. There's a lot going on in these songs.
14. Mia Doi Todd - "88 Ways": I'd never heard of Mia Doi Todd before John Darnielle raved about her most recent cd, Manzanita, when it was released a couple of years ago. I bought that album and the earlier, major-label album The Golden State, which includes "88 Ways". I love Todd's voice. Manzanita is beautiful, and its spare production is much more to my liking than is Mitchell Froom's overly busy production on The Golden State. Still, the latter is a good album nonetheless.
15. Belly - "Super-Connected": This is a pretty basic, engaging rock song from the second Belly cd, King. Tanya Donelly's Belly had some good songs, but they were nothing like as good as her previous band, the great Throwing Muses.
Monday, April 02, 2007
New Music
Three months into the year, and I've bought just eight new cds, only three of which are 2007 releases: Panda Bear's Person Pitch; LCD Soundsystem's Sound of Silver; and Deerhoof's Friend Opportunity. It's completely unheard of for me to not have already bought new albums by certain old favorites, such as Modest Mouse or, especially, Kristin Hersh, not to mention a whole slew of other interesting looking releases, but time and money are an issue, so they'll have to wait.
Person Pitch is gorgeous. I especially like the 12+ minutes of "Bros"; this is the kind of song I could easily listen to all day long. Since 2004's Sung Tongs, reviewers have repeatedly (and lazily, it seems) cited the Beach Boys as a point of reference for Panda Bear's group, Animal Collective. The comparison is more conceptual, I think, than anything else . People are more reminded of the Beach Boys than really claiming that Animal Collective actually sound like them (I could be wrong; I don't hear it, in any event). But with Person Pitch, the sound of Panda Bear's voice comes through very much like one of the Beach Boys (if I cared about the Beach Boys, and could thus differentiate their voices, I could tell you which one). (See Simon Reynolds on Person Pitch in the Observer: "Like Animal Collective, Lennox [i.e., Panda Bear] pulls off the trick of being simultaneously poppy and abstract, winsome and deranging.")
Sound of Silver is pretty good. People seem to be talking most about "Someone Great", but after a handful of listens my favorite track is easily "All My Friends". On a number of the other tracks, James Murphy's vocals are a distraction from the otherwise enjoyable music. Once again I feel that all too often Murphy sounds like he's suffering from a major head cold when he sings (see "North American Scum"). Check out Tom Breihan's entertaining feature about LCD Soundsystem and interview with James Murphy in The Village Voice. Interestingly, Tom seems to think (and appears to reflect a general consensus, not that I've followed up on it) that the slower songs (like "Someone Great") are more central to this record than the last one, which surprises Murphy. It surprises me, too, since the two albums don't sound all that different from each other (though I like the new one more, I think), but also, as with previous LCD Soundsystem music, all of my favorite songs are the faster songs ("All My Friends", of course, but also the opener "Get Innocuous!" and "Us V Them"). They're the songs on which the vocals are the least distracting, for one thing, but also, as with Panda Bear's "Bros" (or Animal Collective's "Banshee Beat"), the kinds of songs that have a kind of repetitive beauty that I can just get lost in.
Deerhoof's Friend Opportunity has, so far, alas, failed to click with me. It has some great moments, but despite its brevity, it seems diffuse. I have been unable to zero in on any particular track.
I expect to buy Bill Callahan's first non-Smog album, when it comes out later this month. And I think I'll post something about the other new cds I've acquired this year. They're all 2006 releases, and I think a reassessment of my favorites from last year may be in order. . .
Person Pitch is gorgeous. I especially like the 12+ minutes of "Bros"; this is the kind of song I could easily listen to all day long. Since 2004's Sung Tongs, reviewers have repeatedly (and lazily, it seems) cited the Beach Boys as a point of reference for Panda Bear's group, Animal Collective. The comparison is more conceptual, I think, than anything else . People are more reminded of the Beach Boys than really claiming that Animal Collective actually sound like them (I could be wrong; I don't hear it, in any event). But with Person Pitch, the sound of Panda Bear's voice comes through very much like one of the Beach Boys (if I cared about the Beach Boys, and could thus differentiate their voices, I could tell you which one). (See Simon Reynolds on Person Pitch in the Observer: "Like Animal Collective, Lennox [i.e., Panda Bear] pulls off the trick of being simultaneously poppy and abstract, winsome and deranging.")
Sound of Silver is pretty good. People seem to be talking most about "Someone Great", but after a handful of listens my favorite track is easily "All My Friends". On a number of the other tracks, James Murphy's vocals are a distraction from the otherwise enjoyable music. Once again I feel that all too often Murphy sounds like he's suffering from a major head cold when he sings (see "North American Scum"). Check out Tom Breihan's entertaining feature about LCD Soundsystem and interview with James Murphy in The Village Voice. Interestingly, Tom seems to think (and appears to reflect a general consensus, not that I've followed up on it) that the slower songs (like "Someone Great") are more central to this record than the last one, which surprises Murphy. It surprises me, too, since the two albums don't sound all that different from each other (though I like the new one more, I think), but also, as with previous LCD Soundsystem music, all of my favorite songs are the faster songs ("All My Friends", of course, but also the opener "Get Innocuous!" and "Us V Them"). They're the songs on which the vocals are the least distracting, for one thing, but also, as with Panda Bear's "Bros" (or Animal Collective's "Banshee Beat"), the kinds of songs that have a kind of repetitive beauty that I can just get lost in.
Deerhoof's Friend Opportunity has, so far, alas, failed to click with me. It has some great moments, but despite its brevity, it seems diffuse. I have been unable to zero in on any particular track.
I expect to buy Bill Callahan's first non-Smog album, when it comes out later this month. And I think I'll post something about the other new cds I've acquired this year. They're all 2006 releases, and I think a reassessment of my favorites from last year may be in order. . .
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Animal Collective
Scraps has finally had a chance to listen to Animal Collective, their 2005 album Feels specifically, and likes what he hears. This reminds me that I meant to post something about them last fall but did not, because I seem to be pathologically incapable of posting something quickly or spontaneously. . . Anyway, the occasion of that post would have been the re-release of their 2001 live album, Hollinndagain, which covers the period between Danse Manatee and Here Comes the Indian. I'd noticed an unfortunate tendency among reviewers to hail the release while lamenting the apparent turn away from the free-form noisy music of those records toward the more polished or, as some put it, "poppy" recent albums, such as Feels and Sung Tongs.
Don't get me wrong, I love the early Animal Collective recordings, especially Spirit They're Gone, Spirit They've Vanished (which I was just cool enough to get when it was released by Avey Tare and Panda Bear, before the official Animal Collective name took hold) and Here Comes the Indian, and I would welcome a return to a more free-form approach. But not because there is anything wrong with what they've been doing. There is nothing to lament, not when they can make music as wonderful as that found on Feels. At around the same time that I meant to post on this, I spent about two days listening to that album's "Banshee Beat" on more or less continuous repeat. It might just be the most gorgeous eight-plus minutes of music released in the last few years.
Don't get me wrong, I love the early Animal Collective recordings, especially Spirit They're Gone, Spirit They've Vanished (which I was just cool enough to get when it was released by Avey Tare and Panda Bear, before the official Animal Collective name took hold) and Here Comes the Indian, and I would welcome a return to a more free-form approach. But not because there is anything wrong with what they've been doing. There is nothing to lament, not when they can make music as wonderful as that found on Feels. At around the same time that I meant to post on this, I spent about two days listening to that album's "Banshee Beat" on more or less continuous repeat. It might just be the most gorgeous eight-plus minutes of music released in the last few years.
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