moonty

An Alright Start

2006-10-19T00:36:00.000-06:00

t doesn't matter how many times I've heard Agaetis Byrjun, really -- though it's undoubtedly many times, the effect it has on me as a listener has remained largely the same. I first heard it in 2001, if I'm not terribly mistaken (or, perhaps, 2002, even,) after downloading it from a friend on what was my musical haven at the time, Direct Connect (though the specific hub escapes me, but I would imagine that it was likely the Saddle Creek Web Board hub, or somewhere members frequented, at least.)

Being in the 10th or 11th grade in high school at the time, I was into a variety of music that I don't touch now -- third-wave ska and early punk springs to mind most immediately -- and was only just encountering music that I felt I really connected with at the time. Sigur Ros, the acclaimed Icelandic post-rock outfit, was a name I kept reading -- the hype was intense, and certainly growing. Something was different from the usual hype, though, which, of course, shifted at the time in a variety of directions, as is often the case.

The focus on Radiohead and Wilco, while both undoubtedly quality bands, presented nothing terribly ground-breaking. While Amnesiac was recognized heavily (an album I didn't enjoy as much as most did, it seemed at the time) and the then-unreleased (in any official form, at least) Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was garnering all sorts of acclaim and building an unstoppable momentum (and with good reason, it's an album that hasn't left my playlist yet, and is vastly superior, in my mind, to Wilco's following album, A Ghost is Born.)

Sigur Ros, though, was different. Spacey, dreamy, and ultimately full of a certain mystique, their music captured something beautiful that I hadn't really heard before. As my first real exposure to the world of post-rock, Agaetis Byrjun was eye-opening. Being into relatively standard forms of music at the time, it presented something relatively alien to me at the time (no pun regarding the album cover, honestly) -- an intense focus on sonic texture and the soundscape presented by the music.

That time of my life was an unusual one, as I'm sure most can find reasonable, considering the awkwardness of being the age of 15. I gave little to no regard to what music was representing or portraying a large lot of the time, perhaps due to my own concious faults or the hormonal peaks experienced by the typical teenage male; Sigur Ros was a welcome change to that pattern. Agaetis Byrjun presented a challenge against my musical tastes and against the very nature of my perception of music. I never really considered that music could be so delicate and beautiful while remaining detached from the form of the music preceding it.

Sigur Ros, along with a handful of other bands, have made an indelible influence on my listening habits, and, I might imagine, my perception of reality. At any rate, it's four or five years later, and I'm still listening to Agaetis Byrjun, and every time I hear "Svefn-g-Englar," I can't help but be amazed.

The Death of Neutral Space

2006-07-02T09:30:00.000-06:00

It's not unusual, in times like these, to see public transporation -- you know, the bus you could take to work (but don't, it's much easier just to drive), the subway train you're afraid to go on -- plastered with images of celebrities enjoying Your Favorite Cola Beverage (TM), the unnatural look of satisfaction on their face as plastered on as the printed advertising on which they reside. Given the non-recession of the medium, it appears the advertising campaigns are, in fact, successful -- but at what cost?

Yes, advertising can help offset the costs of introducing several new buses into a city-wide bus system, or even help with start-up costs; that much cannot be disputed. Public transportation is an important part of metropolitan areas; with our ineffecient gasoline-powered cars, pollution is at an all-time high -- and public transportation is one way we can hope to at least slow its growth.

But as beneficial as public transportation may be, is it really mentally healthy to plaster advertising on it? I would argue otherwise; there's something instrinsically stressful about being constantly hammered with directives ("Buy this product!" or "See this film!") -- and what's more valuable than our mental health?

The Flaming Lips - At War With the Mystics

2006-04-05T19:58:00.000-06:00

The Flaming Lips

At War With the Mystics

Warner Bros., 2006

Widely revered three-piece The Flaming Lips brings At War With the Mystics to the table nearly four years after the release of the critically acclaimed Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, expounding on the psychedelia-tinged textures that have helped to define the group's on 1999's The Soft Bulletin and 2001's Yoshimi. While retaining some very obvious similarities with its predecessors, At War With the Mystics manages to sound fresh in most of the important ways.

The album's opening track, "The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song" really highlights some of the album's key points -- At War With the Mystics is densely packed with fuzzy textures and, quite successfully, feels noisy and cluttered; it must be noted that such is not necessarily a negative attribute, especially in this case. Sometimes At War With the Mystics seems like it's brimming with textures and harmonies, and, indeed, that seems to have been the goal of The Flaming Lips, for part of the album, at least. Luckily for listeners, At War With the Mystics isn't wholely noise-ridden; it allows for mild breaks of sound, successfully avoiding the trappings that lead to an overwhelming sound.

Of course, At War With the Mystics is no perfect album, nor is it close -- not that it pretends to be. One notable instance of a faltering is "Free Radicals," which, despite its best efforts, never manages to really mesh with either itself or the album as a whole. In fact, several of the tracks feel disconnected and almost forced, surprisingly.

However, The Flaming Lips manage a number of outstanding tracks across At War With the Mystics -- "Mr. Ambulance Driver," initially released in July, 2005 (albeit it was a different mix) for the film Wedding Crashers, is a serene experience, aided strongly by snippets of sound and the use of a siren as a thematic focal point in a prototypical 21st century Flaming Lips style. Also notable is "Goin' On," a piano-led piece that wraps up the album in an ultimately relaxed manner.

At War With the Mystics is certainly not the strongest album from The Flaming Lips in recent memory, but it is, without a doubt, an album of indisputable quality, and is likely to remain memorable for a time yet.

Matthew Montgomery

Thou Shalt Not Pirate

2006-04-05T19:56:00.000-06:00

The advert is rampant in theaters and on DVDs now -- "You wouldn't steal a car," it yells, pumping its fist into the proverbial advertising-filled air. Apparently, you wouldn't steal a handbag, television, or a DVD, either. This is fine, I can reason that stealing is a morally reprehensible action when the objects in question are not used to perform life-saving actions and the like. What's not fine is the line that follows the information on theft (just in case we didn't know what stealing was, I suppose): "DOWNLOADING PIRATED FILMS IS STEALING." Seems they forgot the exclamation point.

It's disturbing, really. The implication -- nay, the very bold, unambiguous statement -- that downloading is comparable to physical property theft is, in a couple of words, absolutely ludicrous. "STEALING IS AGAINST THE LAW," it ends. Gee, really, mister? Their logic here is, well, completely invalid. Their first four premises -- you should not steal cars, handbags, televisions, and DVDs -- provide no logical link to the conclusion, "DOWNLOADING PIRATED FILMS IS STEALING." Why? Why is downloading pirated films stealing?

Yes, downloading "pirated" films is illegal, but not because it is stealing in the traditional sense that they paint. In cases of theft, one party gains something, and another party loses something. It is a zero-sum situation -- the loss of one side is balanced by the gain of another side. In the advert, they commit, thusly, the zero-sum fallacy -- they are treating a non zero-sum situation as a zero-sum situation; they are quite wrong-headed, it seems. If you download a film, the amount of physical copies in the holds of others are kept unchanged by your actions. You have stolen nothing. This propaganda is, quite simply, presenting a logically invalid argument.

Not that I necessarily think that downloading films is a right action, but refraining from the action because a simple-minded commercial venture commands that you not is wholely illogical. Whether you refrain or not, have reason for doing so, please. And if you choose to support a foundering (and, indeed, floundering as a result) industry, go right ahead. Just don't do it because they told you to.

Shelf Life (1993)

2006-03-20T22:23:00.000-07:00

Shelf Life

1993, Paul Bartel

"And now I lay me down to eat
and pledge allegiance to the flag
for one nation is invisible
the body of our lord
safe and sound inside
Plaaaaaay ball!
Amen."

Paul Bartel's 1993 somewhat-post-apocalyptic film Shelf Life ranges from the touchingly tragic to the tragically hilarious in an ultimately bizarre show of a lack of socialization gone horribly wrong.

In the year 1963, three children and their parents, the St. Clouds, stow away in a bomb shelter after the assassination of then-President John F. Kennedy, fearing that arch-enemy of the United States, the Soviets, would send an invasion force to annex the States -- not a totally unusual fear of the time, but certainly an overtly absurd way of acting in a potentially adverse situation. The speed at which the parents seem to have acted is the cause of the situation that presents itself only a few minutes into the film.

Taking this almost-ordinary situation, Bartel illustrates some of the problems of the rampant media involvement in the rearing of children. When the parents of the three children die of what is implied to be food poisoning, they are left alone in the bomb shelter for many years -- thirty or so, to be safe. It is difficult to tell the ages of the "children" -- after all, they have been left to their own devices for years upon years, with only slight bits of television (though, perhaps the images are merely hallucinations) and children's music to aid their socialization.

What follows in the film is a bizarre series of the children's play-time -- from absurd song and dance routines (they've obviously been practiced time and time again, evidenced with the two girls singing as Egyptian slave women, in as perfect harmony as seems possible, and "Pharaoh Ken" (whose real name is Scotty) responding in a practiced manner) to playing "school" (which culminates in an overtly sexual -- though repressed as it may be -- play between Tina and "Troy" (Scotty, again) in which they almost delve into one another's secrets before being interrupted once again.)

With their excessively absurd actions, the St. Cloud children provide an interesting treatise on the nature of the media we've become accustomed to, and the effect it can have on developing youths, all the while providing a humorous, entertaining take on the familiar post-apocalyptic scenario.

What is Music?

2006-03-20T20:35:00.000-07:00

Few things in life are more ubiquitous than the institution of music; indeed, not only is music present in our natural surroundings (and no, I'm not speaking of radio waves constantly passing through our bodies, though, undoubtedly, it is the case,) but it is easily the most implemented and explored social form of entertainment.

Music as natural form is far too often dismissed -- not by great thinkers, but by the common folk -- which is not to say that they are necessarily wrong, but rather awfully closed-minded about things. And, of course, by "the common folk," I mean much more than the Marxian proletariat; indeed, quite easily the majority of socialized man does not recognize sounds other than that containing some elements of melody, rhythm, or harmony, and at times, even things containing some of those elements (see the oft repeated claims of "rap is not music" made by otherwise intelligent individuals).

One argument that could be made regarding music as a whole is that there are few, if any, defining features, other than sound. One account of music by musicologist Jean-Jacques Nattiez implies that, as there are no universal concepts of what music consists of, music has variable constructions, and perhaps need not be created by man.

Famous (or, depending on one's social circle, perhaps infamous) composer John Cage was in agreeance with such a notion -- he was well known for his "non-musical" music, in particular his piece 4'33", which is composed in three movements, each consisting of no more than a tacet -- in other words, Cage's piece was four minutes, thirty-three seconds long of little more than silence. Of course, there was no literal silence: when he performed the piece, Cage lifted the lid of a piano, sat at the bench, and closed the piano, and that was that. Undoubtedly, there was ambient noise in the concert hall the piece was performed in, and certainly such sounds would be heard, likely unintentionally by the creator of the sound, even during Cage's masterpiece (of sorts).

Who are we to merely pass over both natural and unnatural sounds as nonmusical? Perhaps by examining our surroundings more closely for elements of something we think we know -- music as one of the most primary examples at hand of something we claim to know so intimately -- we will not only stretch our perceptions of the thing we know as music, but enhance our very state of being. After all, where better to start than that which we think we know best?

Matthew Montgomery

This is Exploding - Until the Next Red Light

2006-02-28T17:29:00.000-07:00

This is Exploding

Until the Next Red Light

Self-released, 2004

Until the Next Red Light, Ohio's This is Exploding's first full-length release, is bursting at the seams with the energy often associated with artists and the work they lovingly pain over, and with good reason. From "Drive," the opening track, to "Mourning," This is Exploding adopts a near-furious (but not quite there) pace that provides a breath of freshness to their music, resulting in an invigorating album of guitar-rock songs.

While Until the Next Red Light is not without its share of guitar-centric tracks -- indeed, the guitar is the primary focus of the music here, a long-standing tradition of rock music that few bother to break the mould of, which is not to claim that all who don't break the mould to be inferior; clearly such is not the case -- this album is remarkably well-crafted. Far from abrasive, but certainly far from mellow and soothing, Until the Next Red Light is packed with quality songs.

Though these tracks are well-mixed, mastered, and produced, they do fall into a state of repetitive meandering, it seems. While this is not necessarily a negative attribute, it doesn't bode well for the album. Of course, it's not to say that all of the tracks sound the same -- far from it; Until the Next Red Light's tracks are distinguishable in their variation, yet a very similar sound remains throughout. The sound itself is more than fine, but after ten tracks and forty minutes of it, I'm not too heavily inclined to push that play button again, at least for a couple of days -- or so it would seem, until the last track, "Mourning," which ends the album with, arguably, its best track, saving the album from near-disaster.

Matthew Montgomery

Google: Do Nothing That Results in Negative Consequences

2006-02-13T15:58:00.000-07:00

Recently, Google announced their intentions to enter into business in China in a way that some have deemed degrading to human rights. By agreeing to block webpages in, essentially, a list given to them by the Chinese government, it seems they are actively attempting to support censorship by an oppressive government.

Of course, Google's stated code of conduct, "Don't Be Evil," has come into issue with Google's recent declaration. Some say that by supporting an oppressive government, Google is supporting degradation of human rights.

However, from a consequentialist perspective, Google's actions are not only following the spirit of their code of conduct, but, indeed, championing individual rights and the freedom of speech in a subtle manner.

What is not often considered is the fact that Google is informing Chinese citizens that search results have been removed from the page -- and for what reason they have been removed from the page. Such will undoubtedly stir curiosity among the Chinese people in ways that would not be explored had Google simply not entered into business with the Chinese government.

Though Google is, indeed, supporting the censorship of information presented Chinese citzens, it seems they are simultaneously working in a subtle manner such as to stir interest, and perhaps even revolution among the Chinese people.

The Useful Qualities of Genre Placement

2006-02-08T17:03:00.000-07:00

Often it seems that one's initial reaction to the problem of genres is extreme, what with the near constant prattling on about their having caused the downfall of music, or at least being detrimental to music as an institution. Of course, the problems of genres are not to be dismissed as irrelevant, but rather they should be considered and weighed against the alternatives.

One of the problems presented by the classification of music into genres is attempting to define the genre itself. Much like moral and immoral behavior, it is often just said, "You know it when you see it." While this is perhaps a lacking definition, it does provide some light on the processes of classification and overclassification, as the case may be.

Take, for example, the case of the now-ubiquitous genre of music often called "indie". Though descended from the descriptive term independent, which described the approach the band takes to distribution, marketing, performance, and the like, indie has taken on a life of its own. It no longer is confined to independent bands -- in fact, it is often used to describe bands on independent labels as well as major labels, and even bands not signed to labels at all. It has ventured into entirely vague territory, perhaps for reasons of attempts to capture consumers by major labels, or perhaps because it grew into a sound all its own -- it is difficult to say for certain.

One of the problems seen with genres is not really a problem at all -- the complaints of pigeon-holing and restriction are, to my mind, unjustified. It is far too often that genres are used in a mutually exclusive sense, and this is one of the primary problems surrounding them. Indeed, it is not a proble, with the concept of the genre, but is rather a problem with their use. Who is to say that an artist must remain with one clearly defined sound? Certainly not those exercising the act of classification, of placing artist into a genre.

The use of genres also often implies that an artist has little actual musical variation, even across an album or even a set of albums. The genre allows for much breathing room, not unlike genres of painting. By being known as an impressionist and producing impressionist paintings, Van Gogh, Cezanne, and Monet were not inherently the same artist. Rather, this is a demonstration of how widely varied a genre in any work truly is.

Now, there are benefits to the use of genres -- indeed, why would they still be used if they served no practical purpose? One of the foremost examples that come to mind of the concept is my declaration of preference to progressive music. I am not describing a literal characteristic of the music, but rather using a descriptive, wide, and flexible term to attempt to convey, in a few short words, my personal preferences.

Beyond describing my preferences, genres can also be used to describe music that others have yet to experience. This is often where the term overclassification comes into play. However, I do believe that such cries are not only unjustified, but actually harmful to the process of music description. Imagine, instead of describing something as "smooth jazz mixed with a little guitar pop," saying something along the lines of "a combination of light, stacatto drums, smooth, legato saxaphone, and warm, mid-tone heavy guitar." Not only is it unwieldy, but it can quickly become apparent that your descriptions could describe nearly anything meeting the few requirements.

The use of genres allows for easy, reasonable comparison between artists and pieces fitting into the ultimately loose genre guidelines -- and while it may not be the most accurate method of comparison, it does provide a quick judgement as to the possible preference. It should, by no means, be used a replacement for actual listening, but it does provide a genuinely useful function that should not be dismissed.

Matthew Montgomery

Hobbes and Imagination

2006-01-04T10:42:00.000-07:00

Thomas Hobbes, in his seminal philosophical work, Leviathan, proposes the following of human imagination:

"[I]magination being only of those things which have been formerly perceived by sense, either all at once, or by parts at several times[...]"

In doing so, Hobbes raises many interesting questions about our perceptions of the creativity certain humans possess. Phrases like "something nobody has ever thought of before" are endlessly parroted as some claim of grandiosity -- yet little actual thought is given to the truth of the matter. Perhaps, then, it is important that we distinguish between these two primary notions of imagination as proposed by Hobbes: that which we have perceived as a whole, and that which he have perceived in parts.

That which we have perceived as a whole, or whole-based imagination, is oft seen as the "common" form of imagination, and is, all too regularly, lambasted by elitists and artists alike. There may be nothing truly negative about such a form of imagination; mental replication, as it were, is an important function of perception, and no less important than its counterpart in imagination. This distinction was explored through mid-twentieth century Pop Art -- artists like Warhol and Licthenstein were noted for their renderings of the mundane (Warhol most obviously with his Campbell's soup can, Lichtenstein with his renditions of comic art) in a way that is not importantly different than the original, excepting, of course, size. These easily slide into our first form of imagination.

That which we have perceived in parts, or, more easily, part-based imagination, is typically seen as a higher form of imagination, regardless of whether or not this is truly the case. Often, this is mistaken for something it most certainly isn't: the ability to create new works of art. This, however, appears not to be the case. Instead, what appears to be a new production is only a re-structuring in such a way that something not entirely similar to its original parts is produced. Hobbes gives an excellent example of such:

"[Part-based imagination] is compounded, when from the sight of a man at one time, and of a horse at another, we conceive in our mind a centaur."

These two notions of imagination -- not the only two proposed by Hobbes, but certainly the most important, and the only ones of any real depth in this matter -- are not mutually exclusive within a person; rather, they are both necessary in a being possessing any sort of goodness. Unfortunately, one side or the other is constantly rejected, at least outwardly. Take, for example, a man -- a musician, perahps -- who is fond of exercising the part-based imagination, and rather unfond of a whole-based imagination. Following his mental guidelines of imagination, he may avoid thinking of anything "whole" he has perceived, merely on the conception that such will distort his personal creativity. At this point he may come to the opinion that existing in society will not allow him to exercise a part-based imagination when there is a constant influx of wholes. From this, perhaps he will lock himself in a darkened room -- one where he will be free from influence of "new" wholes.

What he fails to recognize, and what this example pushes to the surface, is that Hobbes' distinction of imagination is flawed: it seems that either wholes must be created from nothing, or wholes must be imagined from parts, which seems far more reasonable than assuming something so grand as pure, unenebriated creation from nothingness. If the latter is the case, which it certainly appears to be, one must wonder from where these initial wholes -- those which we extract parts in our perceptions -- came from, if not imagined constructs of parts. Of course, this is essentially a parroting of a problem echoing across philosophy: can something, in fact, come from nothing?

It seems, then, that we can come only to one real conclusion: while Hobbes' notion of forms of imagination may seem, at initial glance, clear, distinct, and certainly unrelated, it is not the case. Upon further investigation, it appears that the two notions of part-based imagination and whole-based imagination are not only interrelated, but each is necessary for the other to exist.

Flying V, Part Two

2005-12-15T21:54:00.000-07:00

The Dimensionality Possibility of a "Narnia"

2005-12-11T20:45:00.000-07:00

The Dimensionality Possibility of a "Narnia,"

Worlds Within Worlds

One often wonders what the possibility of some of their favorite works of fantasy being more than just fantasy really is -- but it is not something usually examined with any detail, being passed off as "imaginative," which may or may not be the case. This is particularly interesting when the quintessential works of fictional fantasy, the Chronicles of Narnia, as written by one C.S. Lewis are considered.

The primary premise of the first novel, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, consists of a foursome of British siblings who, at the height of the second World War, are sent to live with a professor in a place more safe than the city, as it was being bombarded by Axis forces. These children, who seem rather simple and plain indeed, end up, in a round-about way, discovering the land of Narnia, through an entranceway placed conveniently in a wardrobe.

How the world of Narnia was created is of little consequence, regardless of how interesting it may or may not be. What is at hand is that the world and exists, and the possibility of its admittedly bizarre construct. Narnia exists primarily as a world aside from our reality, as evidenced through the lack of a passage of time in the primary, perceived reality -- that of the children in the first-written novel, and, indeed, a certainly strange passage of time within the reality of Narnia itself.

The factor of time allows for an interesting explanation and reasoning behind the possibility of Narnia -- it merely is in a different location in the dimension of time, often called the fourth dimension, as proposed in Einstein's theory of general relativity. The theory, interestingly, allows for different rates of time perception to exist, providing a functional model by which Narnian time can differ from that of our own.

It is worth noting that Narnia is only one of countless worlds within a larger sort of multiverse. It is possible that Lewis envisioned this as an allegory for multiversal theory, which normally deals in probability, though whatever his deeper meaning and allegory, if any, he envisioned something that can easily relate, even with important differences in theories. Lewis's multiverse was envisioned with a "Wood Between the Worlds," which linked all possible worlds together through pools of water, or so it seems.

Now, this initially may seem like a farfetched impossibility -- like most fantasy. However, when related to the seminal philosophical, sociological, and scientific work of allegorical fiction, Flatland, written by Edwin Abbott Abbott, it becomes evident that such an existence is necessarily possible. Abbott's primary character, a square, travels from Flatland (a world of two dimensions,) to Lineland (a world of one dimension,) to Spaceland (a world of three dimensions,) and postulates that a fourth dimension -- and, indeed, an infinite number of dimensions beyond such -- must necessarily exist. The square also discovers that in each dimension, a higher-dimensional being can perform any number of "magical," "godlike" feats, simply by moving across the additional dimensions not perceived by the lower dimension's inhabitants.

Suddenly, the existence of Narnia jumps from mere imagination to a dimensional possibility. Simply by moving across the fourth dimension (as those within Narnia and the Earth universe are three-dimensional beings, perceiving a three-dimensional world,) any number of things can happen, the least of which is not some sort of travel across worlds -- whether it be through a mystical wardrobe, a forest, or a hair-clogged drain in the shower. Supposing that something can act as a dimensional transporter of sorts, (which, in the world of probability, is necessarily possible,) Narnia is not just some imaginative work of fantasy, it is, indeed, reality.

Matthew Montgomery

Why Be a Pirate?

2005-11-29T22:12:00.000-07:00

On waking up this morning, I realized one thing: how much I would rather be a pirate living in my current situation than who I am: myself. Some notable reasons include:

1. Waking up would be infinitely easier. If I set the alarm clock, but upon waking to its incessant ringing, instead of greeting the new day, I could merely smash said alarm clock with little real repercussion. If I were woken by a person, there are several options at my disposal: A) threaten them; B) stab them with my scabbard; C) growl. The most desirable course of action is option C, of course, as it requires the least effort with, hopefully, the most maximal gain.

2. Even the most rote of tasks would be inordinately more entertaining, merely with a few vocalizations. "Avast, these pretzels are making me thirsty!" suddenly becomes an entertaining phrase rather than a complaint.

3. Coercing through the threat of physical harm is transformed from something laughable to what is an ultimately useful action. Imagine, the average computer programmer attempting to convince an eight-year old boy -- of no relation -- to brush his teeth: "Gyhar, if you don't brush your teeth, I'll make ye an orphan with a peg leg!" doesn't have quite the same force behind it as if a pirate had shouted it with a glint of murder in his eye and a knife along his throat.

4. Two words: puffy shirts. As evidenced in a fifth season episode of Seinfeld ("The Puffy Shirt"), it is evidenced that this pirate-style garb is the ultimate panhandling tool. "Can you spare some change for an old buccaneer?"

Matthew Montgomery

Stars of Track and Field - You came here for sunset last year

2005-11-20T13:06:00.000-07:00

Stars of Track and Field
You came here for sunset last year
2005

The latest release from Stars of Track and Field, You came here for sunset last year, is a five track EP that sounds as musically mature as one could imagine; composed of outstanding musical talent and intuition, this Portland three-piece seems to hold their art in high regard. With jangly guitars and smooth, flowing keyboard lines, Stars of Track and Field demonstrate the utmost regard for their unique brand of melodic pop music. They are assisted by highly esteemed producers Tony Lash and Jeff Saltzman in the effort -- much to their benefit.

It is interesting to note the apparent influence of the group's surroundings on their songwriting. For better or worse, You came here for sunset last year does not sound like it was written on a bright, clear day; you will likely not feel like bluebirds are singing happy tunes as puffy white clouds roll by when listening to this EP. Rather, tracks like "Let Ken Green" and "Say Hello" feel fog-laden and overcast, and, without a doubt, heavily atmospheric.

You came here for sunset last year is easily one of the most entrancing releases of 2005; its only major, outstanding flaw is its short length -- expectable for an EP, of course, it's just that Stars of Track and Field leave a lot of questions unanswered that would likely have been more explored in the setting of a full album release. In all, though, this is an outstanding release, and for only five tracks, its impact is immense.

Matthew Montgomery

musicGeek.org Calendar

2005-11-13T01:01:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I made a calendar, and I had fun doing it. Check it out if you're interested in local shows.

Miguel Mendez - My Girlfriend is Melting

2005-11-08T21:32:00.000-07:00

Miguel Mendez
My Girlfriend is Melting
I & Ear, 2005

Miguel Mendez, a Long Beach, California native, is a strange sort of newcomer to music -- a once-physics major at UC Berkeley, Mendez exercises his songwriting ability in a unique style that he -- for better or worse -- can call his own. Pulling some obvious influences from indie and folk greats while remaining unique is, in and of itself, a difficult task; Miguel Mendez appears to be up to the challenge with his debut album, My Girlfriend is Melting.

Also producing the album, Mendez exercises an element of control that proves to be to his benefit. Perhaps the track most exemplary of this is the nearly-psychedelic "Catchin A Wave." Layers of creative reverb and echo turn this track from what might be a dull, humdrum track that's been strung along for too long a time into an interesting, introspective piece. A clean acoustic guitar tops the piano-based track, and, while sounding slightly off-kilter and maybe a little out of tune, manages to provide a good middle ground between the hollow, bar style piano and Mendez's echoing vocal lines.

While My Girlfriend is Melting is undoubtedly not full of clean, slick recordings, it is full of heart and meaning. Each melody feels strained for, each lyric thought out -- and not in the sense of a lack of ability, but rather, in the sense of a surplus of dedication and inspiration being present in Mendez. My Girlfriend is Melting is a highly creative work that showcases a wide range of potential for Miguel Mendez, and with any luck, is a sign of things to come.

Matthew Montgomery

Just Do It.

2005-10-24T01:24:00.000-06:00

Just Do It?
Moonty Corner

Getting things done, it seems, may be one of the most difficult processes one undertakes: regardless of relative difficulty of actions, the most difficult part of the action, invariably, is starting. The first portion of action we take first, with anticipation of the further portions of the action, seems to be more difficult depending on the latter portions.

Like writing a song, riding a bicycle, or teaching students, the most painful part of the process is the beginning. Even with actions we have performed a multitude of times, we procrastinate, whine, and moan -- though, only with any true fervor before the starting of said action. It is important, then, that we learn to ignore our hedgings and proceed directly with the actions we intend to, wish to, or must perform.

If there is anything that is essential to our lives, it is in the act of doing things that we perceive to be too difficult for us to perform. Throw off those self doubts, for with them, nothing can ever really happen in any larger sense of the word. We will merely continue performing the perceived easiest actions we have available to us. Imagine you have been asked to speak at a large public function, and in an attempt to be polite, you agree. If you do not prepare yourself for said speech, whether it be through recitation, drafting and re-drafting, intense study, or some other method, you will fail to capture the crowd to the best of your ability. It is also true that your actions, while they seemed to be the easiest at the time, also made your future actions more difficult.

In anything we do, it is important to consider that we will be avoiding the actual action; it seems that, by nature, most people are lazy and useless. It is only through the process of performing actions that such is changed, and only truly through performing perceived difficult actions that such a typing is thrust off.

If there is something worth doing, it is worth doing now, taking into consideration the effects of performing an action at a given point in time. At times, it may be unreasonable to perform an action; for example, practicing guitar playing at three in the dead of morning while others in the house are sleeping would prove to be unreasonable and rude.

Besides such instances, the best time to start anything is not around the corner: it is now.

Matthew Montgomery

The Great Lakes Myth Society - Self-Titled

2005-10-08T11:07:00.000-06:00

The Great Lakes Myth Society

Stop, Pop, & Roll, 2005

The Great Lakes Myth Society knows how to start an album well: "The Salt Trucks" starts as a heartfelt acoustic piece but segues into a slightly dark electric piece with nary a snag along the way. Throw in excellent harmonizations and vocals, and The Great Lakes Myth Society begins to take shape.

The Great Lakes Myth Society is the eponymous debut of the Michigan-based group (their hometown, Ann Arbor, is at the foot of Lake Erie, which explains for the name. It also, to an extent, can explain for their sound -- there is regional influence, particularly in a more traditional setting, present across the album; a vague "down-home" feel to tracks is allowed, including banjos, accordians, and strings on such tracks as "Across the Bridge" and "Love Story."

If there is one attribute that stands out in The Great Lakes Myth Society, it's their ability to write engaging, eclectic music. "Buffalo Nickel" is an outstanding example of such; with thunder and siren samples topping the already atmospheric piece, the guitars begin to feel torrential and the cymbal crashes increasingly rain-like. This is easily contrasted with the strangely upbeat "Marquette County, 1959," a piece heavy in piano and lyrics of some sort of strange historical significance ("The northern lights were shining / when Jimmy Stewart came to Marquette County in 1959").

"The Northern Light Over Atlanta, MI" is another prime example of The Great Lake Myth Society's uncanny ability to blend unexpected elements -- funky guitars and orchestral strings blended with bells are, by no stretch of the imagination, a normal combination of instruments, but with this band, one can almost come to expect something with such flare.

After fifteen (excellent) tracks, it is clear that The Great Lakes Myth Society have debuted with an album befitting a much more experienced band -- The Great Lakes Myth Society is a tightly composed album; the band's use of non-standard instrumentation and clear musical intent denotes an amicable relationship within the group. If a first release is any indicator, The Great Lakes Myth Society is, undoubtedly, onto something with their music.

Matthew Montgomery

Slender Means - Neon and Ruin

2005-10-03T20:59:00.000-06:00

Slender Means

Neon and Ruin

Mt. Fuji Records, 2005

Neon and Ruin opens without a real sense of urgency, much to its benefit. "Telepathic Lovesick Heart," the album's opening track, is relaxed and laid-back, setting a fairly consistent theme across the whole of the album. Instead of opening with a track that causes listeners to panic, Slender Means instead decided to open with a fairly simple and poppy guitar-based track -- a move that seems almost regretful at its surface, but in this execution, at least, it manages to give Neon and Ruin a pair of steady legs to stand on.

"Hidden Grove" follows "Telepathic Lovesick Heart" beautifully, taking a previously subtle element in the keyboards and bringing them to the forefront of the composition. Instead of approaching his instrument with lavishly crafted solos and intense stylistic flare, keyboardist David Martin plays with a distinctive style while not attempting to steal any of the proverbial limelight; the rest of the band follows suit, appropriately. The feeling of cooperation and comradery that accompanies Slender Means' positively unique stylings adds a breath of fresh air (not that one was needed -- following metaphorically, Neon and Ruin feels like it was recorded in fresh summer air, but it's always a nice addition to any recording. Besides, a little fresh air never hurt anyone.)

Though Slender Means never does achieve that sense of urgency (and, admittedly, it's certainly not an essential bit of music, by any means, though some groups seemingly treat it as such), they do manage to create captivating music. The laid-back feel it encompasses never really feels limited; rather, it tends to leave listeners nearly satiated -- enough room left over for dessert, really, and they definitely deliver: "The Comet," arguably the most entrancing track on the album, with its spacey feel (and title) and apparently meaningful lyrics (though, nobody can judge on such matters but the lyrics' writers, after all), delivering what is, perhaps, a metaphorical rendition of songwriter Josh Dawson's perceptions of life, wrapped up and shown as a comet, apparently meandering through space without aim. Dawson's lyrical musings are interesting and, quite often, filtered through stories and layers of meaning.

Neon and Ruin is Slender Means' debut album, though you'd never guess it while listening. With a steady, solid rhythm provided by drummer Eric Wennberg and bassist Paul Pugliese, Slender Means is a tight musical outfit, and, appearances being what they are, a band that's bound to stick around for a while longer yet.

Matthew Montgomery

Broken Social Scene - Broken Social Scene

2005-09-27T20:08:00.000-06:00

Broken Social Scene

Arts & Crafts, 2005

Broken Social Scene's latest release, the self-titled Broken Social Scene, comes two years after their highly-rated You Forgot It In People, widely regarded to be one of 2003's greatest releases. With Broken Social Scene, the band has expounded upon their once-successful sound without significantly altering it, as is evidenced in tracks like "Hotel," "Finish Your Collapse and Stay For Breakfast" and "Tremoloa Debut," which, regrettably, comprise a very small portion of the release. It's not this element that ends up being so vital to the success of the album, though; gone (for the most part) are the sparsely populated sonic landscapes that made You Forgot It In People such a wild success, replaced, instead, with a murky, dense landscape that is slightly stale by the end of the album.

While Broken Social Scene may have maintained essentially the same sound (more accurately, some of the same sonic qualities, and some of the songwriting tendencies) they have featured heavily in the past, this self-titled release is notable for its fundamentally different mood and feel. Tracks like "Windsurfing Nation," "Superconnected," and "7/4 (Shoreline)" are dense, packed with guitars and sonic noise, that, while mostly evocative and capturing, seem overtly forced.

At times, however, Broken Social Scene suffers from an unfortunate mundanity that wasn't nearly as heavily present in the band's past releases -- which is not to say that this is a mundane album, but rather, it sometimes branches into territory that feels, at the least, over-trodden, both by Broken Social Scene and recent music. There are notable exceptions, most obviously the ten-minute, distinctive "It's All Gonna Break," arguably the album's most dynamic, and undeniably, the most captivating venture. Fortunately, Broken Social Scene ends on a note worth remembering -- a choppy, quick combination of drums, guitars, and horns, ending abruptly -- a perfectly epic, magnanimous ending to an album that ultimately seems sub-par -- but still easily listenable and interesting, though certainly not to the same degree that Broken Social Scene has shown themselves capable.

Matthew Montgomery

Nada Surf - The Weight is a Gift

2005-09-18T14:14:00.000-06:00

Nada Surf
The Weight is a Gift
Barsuk, 2005

The Weight is a Gift is Nada Surf's fourth full length in nearly ten years, and while they maintain essentially the same basic sound as in their 2003 release, Let Go, they have provided a reasonably advanced take on such. The Weight is a Gift is, arguably, their most mature release since the band's inception.

From the cello backing Nada Surf in the smoothly melodic "Your Legs Grow" to the horns featured in "All is a Game" (which, in a throwback style, feels heavily like earlier Nada Surf in its vocal stylings and lightly distorted guitars,) the band demonstrates their musical know-how and interest in growing their diversity. The Weight is a Gift is Nada Surf's second release on Seattle-based Barsuk Records, and as the credits show, there is a fair amount of collaboration across Barsuk's roster. Most notably, The Weight is a Gift was produced by esteemed producer and Death Cab for Cutie guitarist, Chris Walla, alongside two-time producer Louie Lino, a friend of the band. Additionally, John Roderick, of The Long Winters, and Sean Nelson, original member of The Long Winters and the previous frontman for Harvey Danger. Besides these inter-label collaborations, Nada Surf pulled in Phil Wandscher, of alternative country outfit Whiskeytown, who contributed lead guitar on "Comes a Time," and Kenneth Earl Jankowski Jr., of The Golden Republic, who played horns on "All is a Game."

The Weight is a Gift is, by and large, a fast-paced, driving collection of songs ("Comes a Time" may be the sole exception); it is evident that the band has not left behind their roots in power-pop, but simultaneously have realized their inevitably more mature sound -- after all, they were dumped from Elektra Records after refusing to "find" a single for their second full-length, The Proximity Effect, months after its completion by the band, and as such, were reasonably upset. Understandably, it was four years from this struggle in 1998 before the release of their Barsuk debut, Let Go. Either major label troubles are conducive to maturation, it would seem, or four years is, or both -- and it's likely that the answer is both.

As is expected from a band with two stellar releases under their belt, The Weight is a Gift is rife with positive attributes -- songwriting, production, vocal quality, lyrics, you name it, it's there, and it's undeniably positive. Chris Walla's production style fits perfectly with the band's musical style; Walla's unique flares shine through, but, all told, the album sounds (thankfully) unmistakably like a Nada Surf album. Per their usual efforts, The Weight is a Gift's lyrics are well written; though not necessarily "poetic" at all times, they are personal and inspiring. Nada Surf has again succeeded on many levels, and judging from the pace of things, it's likely that any such progress will continue.

Matthew Montgomery

The Long Winters - Ultimatum

2005-09-15T22:41:00.000-06:00

The Long Winters
Ultimatum
Barsuk, 2005

The Long Winters, led by mastermind John Roderick, have ventured from their usual musical stylings, venturing into what is, for them, at the very least, new territory. Ultimatum, their first release since their 2003 album, When I Pretend to Fall. Standing at six tracks, this EP is simultaneously soothing and engaging.

The opening track, "The Commander Thinks Aloud," a shadowing of this new sound, is poppy and piano-driven, with Roderick's vocals quickly taking a leading role in the piece -- which seems to be the most constant element across the EP. The title track, "Ultimatum," places Roderick's vocals afront a fine accompaniment -- one that emphasizes his dynamic, full-bodied voice: a folksy, down-home guitar and a five piece string combo, bringing forward Roderick's unique nuances. He uses a similar approach with live, acoustic renditions of When I Pretend to Fall's "Bride and Bridle" and "Ultimatum," performing the two pieces in what is an unarguably more raw construct.

What really seals Ultimatum is its lyrical content; at times, it is enigmatic and convoluted, yet at others, it simple and straightforward. Roderick sticks to a fairly straightforward style for the bulk of the EP: "A trail of shooting stars / the horses call the storm / because the air contains the charge." At times, however, he branches into slightly more bizarre lines found in "Delicate Hands": "The weight of this hairstyle's / making me lazy / I think I'm going to leave it / up all night / I want to feed you / butter-rum candy / But someone beat you / to me." In the conscientious "Everything is Talking," Roderick initially describes modern life ("My new friends have messages / They reach me wherever I am") aside what I must assume is a description of the ultimately eerie experience of having fans whom you've never met ("Namess friends / All know my name"), before delving into some strange sort of moral dillema surrounding, perhaps, the growing artificiality of our food supply -- and maybe some sort of future integration of robots into our daily lives ("I won't eat a machine / But what if it asks me? / What if it says my name?").

At any rate, Ultimatum is, hopefully, a sign of things to come for The Long Winters and their upcoming full-length, planned for early 2006.

Matthew Montgomery

Beggar's Opera - Act One

2005-09-15T13:11:00.000-06:00

Beggar's Opera
Act One
1970

Act One, debut album of British prog-rockers, Beggar's Opera, is a fun, timeless work in an early British post-psychedelic style. Most notable among the instrumentation is Alan Park's fantastical keyboard and organ playing, at times breaking into classical pieces (similar to contemporaries Emerson, Lake & Palmer), from Grieg's famous Peer Gynt suite (best known for its "In the Hall of the Mountain King,") to Mozart's "Rondo allo Turka," suggesting that Park was, at the very least, well-trained.

Besides Park's defining keyboard style, vocalist Martin Griffith adds a distinctive element to Beggar's Opera, with his dynamic, booming style that, perhaps, hadn't quite reached the realm of post-psychedelia when Act One was released in 1970. Griffith's style has had a lasting influence, though, namely on The Aquabats vocalist, "The MC Bat Commander," who utilizes the uniquely derived vocal styling in what must be a tribute to his musical influences. (Interestingly, The Aquabats also pull influences from other progressive rock groups, namely Rush-style keyboard riffs.)

In what may be the defining piece on Act One, "Raymond's Road", Alan Park takes Beggar's Opera on a nearly twelve minute excursion through guitar shredding-style organ solos, sections of classical and baroque pieces, and the "usual" progressive keyboard and organ riffing and progressions (though in 1970, they were hardly usual, what with the progressive genre being a relative youngling.) This continues into "Light Cavalry," complete with bouncy bass work and drumming and, again, a nearly-psychedelic feeling guitar.

New to Act One (as of the 1997 reissue) are the tracks "Sarabande" and "Think." "Sarabande" seems rightly cut from the album -- while an interesting glimpse into 1970s progressive rock, it fails to captivate in the same way the original album did with ease. "Think" presents Beggar's Opera's obvious psychedelic influence; while psychedelia played a large part on the album, it never took such a leading role. At times, "Think" sounds almost like a track pulled straight from Pink Floyd's "The Piper at the Gates of Dawn." As far as Griffith's vocal style lends itself well to such a meandering, "Think" succeeds, though it's a disparate track on a fairly straight-forward album. In all, Beggar's Opera created one of the more interesting works of post-psychedelia and early progressive rock with Act One.

Sigur Ros - Takk

2005-09-13T18:53:00.000-06:00

Sigur Ros

Takk

Geffen

By now (now being September 13th, 2005, the day of Takk's release,) Sigur Ros has become an almost legendary group of musicians, and with good reason. In this, their fourth full length, they, once again, demonstrate an outstanding regard for high production values and the progression of their ultimately unique song-writing style.

In fact, the only real disappointing element surrounding Takk is its packaging -- although such is still of a definite high quality, it is, unfortunately, of a non-standard size, being slightly larger than a standard digipak or jewel case. Initially, I also expressed disappointment with the lack of a booklet, until I came to realize that Sigur Ros's past releases have been very minimal in the use of text in the included booklet; in fact, ( )'s booklet is simply composed of pages of slightly translucent paper with light etchings of foliage across them. While aesthetically interesting, it may be that Geffen (perhaps as this is Sigur Ros's first release on the mega-label) opted to pass on something they perceived as having little to no value.

Stylistically, Takk stands somewhere between ( ) and Agaetis Byrjun, and quite strongly at that. It is also worth noting that this album is undeniably cheerful, and tracks like "Se lest" demonstrate this extraordinarily well, complete with a string and horn section that reminisces vaguely of a carnival -- though such is undoubtedly a lacking description, especially for a band with a sound so dynamic. Additionally, lyrically speaking, Takk is written primarily in Icelandic, a departure from the group's usual use of their created (and supposedly meaningless) language, Hopelandic.

Takk almost requires multiple listens to be fully enjoyed -- not to say that Takk is difficult or "takes some getting used to," but its depth is so immense that a single listen would be doing your ears an injustice, of sorts. Like most truly great music, a single listen may yield intense emotions and immense aural pleasure, multiple listens yields much more.

Matthew Montgomery

John Vanderslice - Pixel Revolt

2005-09-11T12:28:00.000-06:00

John Vanderslice

Pixel Revolt

Barsuk

John Vanderslice's latest effort, Pixel Revolt, is what some would dub a lyrical masterpiece -- and, of course, not without just cause. At times, Vanderslice's mostly unique lyrical style resembles that of John Darnielle, better known in the music world as The Mountain Goats, and in the liner notes, such comparisons are given a reason for existence: Darnielle and Vanderslice are, apparently, friendly enough that Darnielle "edited, expanded, and otherwise improved upon" Pixel Revolt's lyrical content. Darnielle, who has frequently toured with John Vanderslice, is not the victim of a single-sided relationship, either: John Vanderslice produced both of The Mountain Goats two most recently released albums, The Sunset Tree, released in 2005, and We Shall All Be Healed, released in 2004, both by 4AD.

Pixel Revolt is simultaneously a very personal, real effort and a work that frequently delves into fiction as a form of expression. "New Zealand Pines" is an excellent example of the former, as he shares vocals with Oakland-based singer/songwriter, Nedelle, in what Vanderslice describes as "a love letter to my ex-girlfriend." From such a staggeringly personal track, he delves into "Radiant With Terror," an adaptation of Robert Lowell's Cold War-era nuclear warning poem. From this, Vanderslice approaches "Continuation," which plays out nearly like an episode of The X-Files, speaking of four detectives investigating a series of murders by a serial killer. The twist is, of course, that the serial killer has recently turned up dead, and the killings are continuing in the same manner, and the detectives become suspects. The story ends suspensefully and abruptfully, as Vanderslice jumps into yet another piece.

The lyrical content of Pixel Revolt, however important, is not John Vanderslice's only source of wonder: simple, perfunctory listening reveals layers of instrumentation and production that have been intensely crafted. If not for his excellent song writing, Vanderslice would undoubtedly have a very viable future as a record producer. Pixel Revolt is simply easy to listen to, and immensely difficult to stop listening to. From gated acoustic guitars and Vanderslice's cutting vocals, to warm strings and Moog synthesizers, Pixel Revolt is as diverse as a Beatles album -- and while Vanderslice may not be approaching the historical status of The Fab Four -- such a feat is difficult to accomplish, to say the least -- he does manage to create one of the most interesting albums of 2005.

Matthew Montgomery