In 2005, a singer/songwriter by the name of Sufjan Stevens exploded onto the music scene with the release of an album called Illinois, the second step in a self-proclaimed effort to make an album for every state in the United States (already having checked off Michigan). Before it’s release, Stevens had begun to quickly garner an avid following after having released a wealth of delicate and gripping, banjo-driven compositions that spanned over four albums from 2000-2004. With Illinois, Stevens shed some of his Christian-rock label by brilliantly chronicling much of the state’s history through beautifully layered and orchestrated pop-rock music. The album secured a spot at the top of the majority of critics’ year-end Top 10 lists, and many people began to realize that the album marked the arrival of a new force in the music community that didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.
So now I sit here and wonder (as I have wondered often throughout this year and last) why Sufjan hasn’t released an album of new material for almost 2 ½ years. The person that I once saw as being one of the most prolific artists of this decade (releasing five fantastic albums from 2000-2005) now seems to be in a bit of a standstill. I understand that he did have two releases in 2006, but both were collections of unreleased material that had been written previously. The first was released in July of that year called The Avalanche: Outtakes & Extras from the Illinois Album…whose title is pretty self-explanatory. The other was titled Songs For Christmas, which was a wonderful collection of 5 EPs released in November that spanned 42 tracks and were either covers or self-written Christmas songs he had been churning out consistently over the years.
After doing some in-depth investigating (i.e. Google searching), it’s obvious that Sufjan hasn’t just been lying around for the last 2 ½ years doing nothing. He has actually contributed to a large number of other artists’ efforts, adding various instrumentation touches on songs for artists such as The National, Rosie Thomas, Ben + Vesper, and David Garland. In addition, he’s covered a few classic tunes that have been featured on very good compilations (playing Dylan’s “Ring Them Bells” for the I’m Not There Soundtrack, Mitchell’s “A Free Man In Paris” on A Tribute to Joni Mitchell, and Tim Buckley’s “She Is” for Dream Brother: The Songs of Jeff & Tim Buckley).
I guess I should also acknowledge the remarkable work he produced with his symphonic endeavor titled “BQE”, a salute to the history of the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway which runs through his current residence of Brooklyn. The project ended up becoming a 30-minute orchestrated piece (without any vocals), and featured a 36-person orchestra who performed the piece three nights in a row in November of 2007 at the Brooklyn Academy of Music.
Okay, so maybe Sufjan has been keeping himself busy over the past couple years. But I’m sure I’m not alone in my lack of patience for the release of an entirely new, probably state-dedicated album. Despite becoming a surging singer/songwriter on the independent scene recently, he’s somehow still able to fly under the radar and retain his reclusive tendencies. Perhaps this gap in his output has been beneficial in stopping him from overexposing himself, or maybe he’s spending all of this time to create a work that's even more ambitious than his last (if that’s possible). Whatever the case is, I think it’s about time that Sufjan ends this torturous waiting game once and for all. Come on Sufjan, feel the malaise!
With each successive release, it's easy to see that Jim James and crew are working to expand the reach of the band's sound more and more. The move from 2003's It Still Moves to 2005's stellar Z marked a shift from their traditional, reverb-entrenched Southern rock psychedelia to a more tightly written yet experimental and otherworldly sonic landscape. This year, My Morning Jacket expanded the range of their musical radar even further with their incredibly eclectic and ambitious fifth album Evil Urges.
The album is essentially a template of various musical genres that have crept into rock occasionally over the last 50 years but have rarely ever been grouped together on one album like they have been here. It's certainly an admirable feat, as not many other bands around today would dare to throw themselves into as many different pools as Jim James dives into here. While the Southern rock spirit still exists in their music ("I'm Amazed"), there are also flavors of arena rock ("Aluminum Park"), country ("Sec Walkin'"), 50s pop ("Two Halves"), folk ballads ("Librarian") and even psychedelic funk ("Evil Urges") mixed in.
The good news is that the band certainly succeeds much more than it fails, at times even reaching the exceptional heights of songcraft that Z so majestically achieved. The opening, title track "Evil Urges" is a bouncy and entrancing foray into funk, featuring James' unexpected Prince-like falsetto backed by layers of swirling guitar, piano, and driving percussion. It's easy to become completely immersed in the beauty of "Look at You", led by entrancing slide guitars and James’ fantastic vocals that sway back and forth between powerful confidence and haunting fragility.
And of course, I can't forget to mention the triumphant one-two knock-out punch that the finale delivers. The second to last track "Smokin' from Shootin'" is a tremendously listenable and gripping piece. During the first two-thirds of the song, James questions the mysteries of life and expresses the difficulty of searching for something we don't even know exists. The final third of the song builds to a booming climax that has James bellowing out his angst with no strings attached. The song concludes and we slide into the album closer "Touch Me I'm Going To Scream Part 2" as we hear a sucking sound as if we're being pulled into a vacuum where nothing else exists but the staccato keyboards that begin to creep their way in. As the song continues, more layers begin appearing in this desolate, Pink Floydian space including a drum machine, James' vocals, and eventually the swelling backing vocals and synthesizers. By its end, the song is lifted to astronomical and almost spiritual heights, only to fade away layer by layer just as it came in.
While the album certainly attains levels of brilliance, there are also points where it fails miserably. With Evil Urges, James is trying to juggle too many genres at once and simply can't keep them all in the air at the same time. Probably the most mind-boggling, "what-were-you-thinking" song of MMJ's career appears on track three with the awful "Highly Suspicious". In trying to be an edgy, sexually-driven funk song, James' sinister laughing just ends up being the tipping point for the huge mess that it is. There's also the lackluster "Remnants", which pops up immediately after the album's only other rocker "Aluminum Park" and is nothing more than a shadow of it, swallowing itself up with failed hooks and unexciting songwriting. This actually brings to light another disappointment of the album, its very odd and poorly chosen track order. Whether it's James saying in an interview that the second half of the album starts after the first three tracks or the unnecssary 6-second closer "Good Intentions", the album suffers from what I like to call "iPod Shuffle Syndrome".
What made their previous effort Z so exceptional (enough to make it to the top ten of my Top 100 Albums list, see earlier posting) was that it not only took the band to a new and exciting place, but also the creation of music that was consistently well-written and effective in that new place. Between It Still Moves and Z, the band essentially looked down a new, foreign road and decided to take a direct and focused journey down it. With Evil Urges, rather than boldly traveling down a new road, they seem to be standing at an intersection of a dozen roads, spinning around in circles and spreading themselves too thin trying to cover all of the new, diverse terrain. I do have to give Jim James credit for once again pushing the limits of his band. Also, his ability shown here to adapt his vocals to the different genres that each song inhabits is beyond impressive, putting him in an elite group of modern rock vocalists. But personally I hope that with their next release they decide to take the road less traveled rather than the roads that have already been thoroughly traveled by both innovators and followers over the past 50 years.
R.E.M. comes out bold and blazing from the opening seconds of Accelerate, immediately wiping their slate clean that has been dirtied over years from a series of lackluster releases. For over a decade, the band considered as one of the pioneering forces for the entire alternative rock movement has struggled to come anywhere close to the past heights they achieved in the 80s and early 90s. What’s immediately obvious about their newest release is the band’s decision to essentially strip its sound down to the bare essentials, shedding overly-produced songs in favor of more direct and trajectory rock.
The band hails back to its glory days with the return of many elements that made them so universally lauded by the music community years ago. Their raw songwriting here harks back to their Do-It-Yourself persona established at the beginning of their career 25+ years ago. In addition, Michael Stipe’s vocals are just as poignant and effective as they ever were. Thankfully, Peter Buck’s guitars are back in full force as well, transitioning from driving riffs to the more wailing, distorted attacks in songs like “Man Sized Wreath” and “Mr. Richards”.
There are only a couple of missteps that hold this effort back from joining the ranks of their past classics (notably 1983’s Murmur and 1992’s Automatic for the People). “Accelerate”, the track that shares the album’s title, chugs along to an uninteresting melody, ultimately nothing more than filler in an album whose lean nature only works if all of the fat is shaved off. The closing track of the album “I’m Gonna DJ” also disappoints. What should be a chance to make a lasting, final statement for an album that says so much is instead replaced by a frivolous track that whizzes by the listener and never offers to pick them up along the way.
So in the spirit of the album, I’ll wrap things up quickly. Accelerate is certainly an accomplishment for a band that was as near extinction as any band can be. They have smartly returned to the winning formula that worked so well for them in their prime; mixing lyrics that are simultaneously cryptic and relatable, sound that is both modern and traditional, and a spirit that is equally fiery and tender. In the end, Accelerate is a bit too fleeting and underdeveloped, as if R.E.M. is serving us only a small sample of their recipe rather than the full, three-course meal that we want. But hey, a taste is better than nothing at all, right?
Key Tracks: Living Well Is The Best Revenge Supernatural Superserious Until The Day Is Done
I got to the Brooklyn Masonic Temple around 7pm, an hour before the band that I had been waiting years to see would soon be taking the stage. I neared the temple and noticed a silhouette of a dred-locked/afro hairline (the likes of Sideshow Bob) in the darkness that I quickly realized belonged to TVOTR drummer Jaleel Bunton, who was standing on the corner smoking a cigarette. I approached him and introduced myself, asking him if he’d ever played there before. Bunton responded, “no, but it’s a creepy place.” I laughed and told him that maybe it was fitting, being so close to Halloween. After wishing him good luck and walking away, I realized that the “creepy” setting was actually fitting in a more significant way.
About a month prior to this show, I had met the band's two singers Tunde Adembipe and Kyp Malone after they played on the fire escape of the Ed Sullivan Theater. After they performed "Dancing Choose" they both told me that playing up on the fire escape was also very weird and strange for them. And so a pattern was established and I realize now that this recurring theme of playing in strange locales is all part of a transitioning phase that the band now finds themselves in. After the release of their critically-acclaimed new LP Dear Science, accompanied by their exponentially growing fan base, the band is in a situation where they’re playing in places they’d never thought they’d play before (which are sometimes "weird" or "creepy"), while simultaneously experiencing fame they never thought they’d achieve.
TV on the Radio opened the first of three consecutive shows in a row at the Masonic Temple with the expected choice of “Halfway Home”, which came thundering out of the speakers and filled the murky, haunting space with ravishing layers of sound. The majority of the one hour and 45 minute set was appropriately filled with songs from Dear Science (in my opinion is their finest effort). The highlight of the show was the hand-clapping romp of their new single “Golden Age”, which fittingly became almost a spiritual experience in the temple. The band also had assistance from the terrific horn section from the Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra, whose presence was embraced by the audience and who helped to quicken heart rates during songs like “The Wrong Way” and “Dancing Choose”.
The band was impressive on every level, confidently integrating a slew of creative instrumentation choices with more typical rock band play mechanics. Whether it was David Sitek hanging wind chimes from the end of his guitar, Gerard Smith creating atmospheric sound from his Apple Macbook, or Tunde Adebimpe’s skillful fiddling with his mixing board, the band was doing things that few other bands both try and succeed at. One of the highlights of the show was their performance of “A Method” off of their 2006 album Return To Cookie Mountain. Adebimpe's anthemic vocals were backed by every member of the band playing a different percussive instrument, from jingling bells to wood blocks to others I'd never even seen or heard before. I felt like I was back in elementary school music class, being shown how a range of different instruments can make all types of different sounds. The show concluded with the “Staring at the Sun” off of their first album Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes, which proved to be an invigorating finale.
After the show, I was fortunate enough to stumble into Adebimpe as he exited the temple. I shook his hand and mentioned how 2008 has been such a huge year for him, with the release of debatably the best album of the year as well as his role in the much-lauded new Jonathan Demme picture Rachel Getting Married. His gratitude towards my praise was both sincere and genuine. While it seems like it would be hard to eclipse a year like this, that’s exactly what the band has done with their newest release after album-of-the-year marks for Return to Cookie Mountain two years ago. TV on the Radio is a band with limitless potential and an endless desire to boldly explore new sonic terrain, and for that reason they will surely stand the test of time as one of the most important bands of the decade.
Beck emerged from the 90’s alternative rock scene as the prodigy of postmodern eclecticism. After his first two releases, Beck was quickly deemed the poster-boy for creating intelligent, genre-blending music that became something ultimately original and profound. Throughout the years, he has essentially played hop scotch with a range of styles, jumping around and mixing genres like pop, psychedelia, jazz, folk, blues, funk, and experimental rock to create a kaleidoscope of incredible music. And so Modern Guilt marks the 9th LP release from one of this generation’s most prolific and versatile singer/songwriters.
This time around Beck has chosen to mash minds with producer Danger Mouse who, after the brilliant production exhibited on the first LP from his band Gnarls Barkley, seems to be the new go-to-guy for smart musicians looking for producer that could add a little kick to their sound (e.g. The Black Keys, Gorillaz). Danger Mouse’s touch to this album is definitely noticeable, from his wiry, descending strings on “Walls” to his canny drum machine mixed with light, ethereal piano flourishes on “Replica”.
Nevertheless, we know that Beck is the real mind behind the project. After his last two affairs (2005’s Guero and 2006’s The Information), it’s immediately apparent that Beck has chosen to head down the darker road this time around, harking back to the somber tone of his much-lauded and introspective Sea Change (2002). However, rather than personalize his unrest, he’s instead expanded this sense of dread onto the world spectrum. Whether it’s references to icecaps melting, people drowning, or walls falling down on us, there's constant feeling of entrapment and crisis that permeates throughout the entire album.
While we listen to Beck on this album, the image of Charlie Chaplin passing through the machine gears in the classic film Modern Times comes to mind. He seems to be caught up in a giant, brooding machine with no escape. Songs like "Youthless” and “Soul of a Man” exhibit this best, during which Beck’s somber vocals are surrounded by swelling and pulsating technological sounds that almost overtake him. Again much to the credit of Danger Mouse’s production, songs often sound very crunchy and calculated with a collage of backing sounds that constantly interject and threaten Beck’s defeated vocal sound.
Ultimately, Beck has created a sophisticated album that attempts to capture the dread and despair that many Americans feel today with so many pressures (both global and local) falling down on us. So in capturing this sense of despair Beck succeeds. However, the album lacks the hook and draw that we so often find in his previous efforts. Part of this is because, as the listener, we always feel a sense of distance from the music. It feels as if we’re always a block or two away from the dark, murky alley from which the music is being played. The inherent likeability of his past efforts stemmed from his formula of incredibly original sound that was simultaneously gripping and addictive. As a result we were drawn in to the music rather than distanced from it.
Don’t get me wrong, Modern Guilt has some very strong tracks debatably some of the best of his career (“Chemtrails”, “Profanity Prayers”). However, it also has its fair share of songs that struggle to flourish to their full potential, leaving us flat-footed and admiring rather than moved and inspired. Perhaps this is what Beck was going for, an album that wishes to encapsulate the stand-still world many of us feel we live in. But as far as music-listening goes, it’s much more of a struggle to come back to Modern Guilt for a second or third listen compared our desire to return to albums like Odelay or Midnite Vultures. Hopefully next time around Beck will feel that the times they are a’changin’ and get back to his swinging, exciting, and bombastic roots.
Key Tracks: Gamma Ray Chemtrails Profanity Prayers
Last night New York Magazine celebrated it’s 40th Anniversary at the appropriately lush and extravagant Hammerstein Ballroom on the first floor of the Manhattan Center. Around 6pm, dozens of people began to file into the lofty, four-tiered space after having bought tickets weeks in advance for what would surely be a solid performance line-up.
First to take the stage was the comedy trio Stella, the guys best known for their short-lived Comedy Central show by the same name and their cult-movie comedy Wet Hot American Summer. The troupe completely shattered my low expectations with their often hysterical banter. Whether it was their hilarious (phallic-centered) hand-drawn altering of past New York Magazine covers or sharing their ridiculous ideas of the perfect Autumn day, I could not stop laughing. The second act was the pretentious, Brooklyn-based band Grizzly Bear, by far the weakest and most disappointing part of the event. Their dreary songwriting and murky melodies came nowhere close to matching the excitement that the 40th anniversary celebration required. After a second appearance by Stella, The National was welcomed onto the stage around 9pm, ready to deliver to the crowd what they were all really there to see.
Because I went to the show with a friend who had already seen the band more than five times, I had a good feeling that this would be a band well-worth seeing live (as many solid bands surprisingly aren’t despite sounding fantastic on record). Vocalist/songwriter Matt Berninger is the epicenter of the band, who took center stage with just a microphone in hand his volcanic performance spirit that many fans of their shows are most drawn too. As a quick side note, I remember talking to someone in line at a Hold Steady concert a few months back who was commenting on having seen The National’s live. After asking how they were, his first response was how “Matt Berninger can get absolutely insane on stage.” This was definitely unexpected, knowing The National as a typically mellow, independent rock band whose strength stems more often from their subtle and delicately composed music than their occasional blasts of intense rock. Last night gave me complete proof of Berninger’s terrific talent. He not only has vocals that effectively alternate from Cohen's deep baratone to Cobain's primal screams, but also both bewildering and passionate lyrics to accompany it.
One of the most immediately obvious things that you realize when seeing The National play live is how incredibly in sync all six members play with one another. Maybe it’s the fact that their two guitarists are twins and hence are on the same mental wavelength, or the fact that they always have a consistently killer percussive beat to follow with drummer Bryan Devendorf. Whatever it is, the band just seems to have “it”, and by “it” I mean a complete, tightly packaged rock aura that not many other bands are able to embody. Whether playing one of their beautifully crafted ballads (“Daughters of the Soho Riots”, “Green Gloves”) or completely ravaging the performance space (“Abel”, “Mr. November”) their unstoppable sonic force is hard not to admire.
The only disapproval of the band from the crowd was when towards the end of the show Berninger claimed that this would be the last show they would play in New York City for a while. The boos were quickly reversed to optimistic cheers when he explained that it’s because they’re going back into the studio to record a new album. After hearing this, everyone understood that it was simply a matter of fact that the last few songs they would play for a while in their native city were probably going to tear the roof off of the ballroom.
And they did just that. During their encore, The National did what shocked both my friend and many others who had seem them so many times before…played a cover...and not just any cover, but the Velvet Underground classic “What Goes On” (you can watch my video of it here). Berninger explained the reasoning for playing it as a birthday present for a fan, but ultimately it was a gift to everyone in the crowd.
Their last song was the crowd favorite “Mr. November” which, although not much of a surprise choice, seemed to be just what the crowd ordered. I do not hesitate at all in saying that seeing them play “Mr. November” was one of the most incredible song performances I’ve ever witnessed. While every member unleashed their musical prowess to incredible heights, most notable was obviously Berninger, who brought out his inner Jagger to achieve God-like status on stage. While punching out amazingly cathartic vocals, he wreaked havoc on his mic stand by smashing it on the stage floor (in the spirit of The Clash's famousLondon Calling album cover), then hurling it over drummer Devendorf's head into the glittery stage backdrop.
As the lights went up, the New York crowd left the anniversary bash both completely satisfied and completely devastated, knowing they would now have to go back to the torturous waiting game for their album to come out. But everyone knows that when that album comes out (next year?), it'll surely be accompanied by a triumphant return to their much beloved home city.
At 9:20pm, Fleet Foxes arrived on the Grand Ballroom stage at the Manhattan Center with a slight look of apprehension in their eyes. As the lights rose on these five Seattlinians, it was immediately obvious they had been thrown into a venue larger than any they'd ever played before (which midway through the show lead singer/songwriter Robin Pecknold admitted to). However, this shouldn't be that big of a surprise for those who follow the band. Many of us knew that it would only be a matter of months before their incredible debut album caught the attention of thousands outside of Seattle and would garner a strong following that spanned across the country. And so the audience spent the next hour and 20 minutes witnessing the exhilarating process of a band adjusting to an immediate rise in stardom and getting into their element in the concert capital of the world.
Unfortunately, the first sense that I got of the band was through my sense of smell, catching a big whiff of Pecknold's B.O. as he came on early to make a few instrument adjustments. This is probably the one instance in my concert attendance history that I wouldn't have minded being about five feet further back in the crowd. However, when the glorious harmonies started echoing through every cubic inch of the ballroom's interior, I would rather have been nowhere else but right up front.
The band sounded fantastic, matching the billowing and reverb-entrenched sound of their debut album. They played through much of the album (which I know very well), as well as many tracks which I assume are off of their EP (which I don't know very well, but undoubtedly will very soon). They also played a new song that they have been working on titled "Silver City", which they admitted still needed some fine tuning. While the entire band sounded great, the moments when Pecknold took the stage alone were even more impressive. By temporarily stripping off the often overwhelming harmonies and mighty backing instrumentation, it created a very intimate and engrossing performance situation that the audience became completely enveloped in (I smell solo career, and it smells like B.O.).
Going along with the whole idea of the band adjusting to a new, big setting, Pecknold frequently tried new performance variables, primarily concerned about how the audience liked them. For example, at one point he simply asked the audience if they would like it if he moved up to the front of the stage with both mic and guitar unplugged to play some songs ("Katie Cruel", "Tiger Mountain Peasant Song"). After roars of audience praise, I think he got the idea that they liked it.
One of the best parts about seeing the Fleet Foxes live was seeing their personalities come out. Listening to the album, I've always had this image in my mind of the band being similar to a mysterious bunch of traveling Appalachian wanderers, descending from the mountain to play some beautiful, earthly songs, only to cryptically return to where they came from. However, with consistently hilarious banter going on between band members and innocent interaction with the audience, I got the sense that this is just a group of five genuinely good-hearted people with a shared passion for creating innovative and often spiritual music.
While this setting may at first have seemed a bit overwhelming for the band, they surely settled in very quickly, giving a terrific (though far too short) performance from beginning to end. In response to Pecknold's claim of this being the biggest venue they'd ever played, one audience member accurately shouted out "well you're gonna have to get used to it!" Pecknold and the rest of the band laughed and shrugged it off, though surely in the back of their minds knowing that the audience member was probably right.
As the saying goes, third time’s a charm. Dear Science is a tremendous third effort by one of the most innovative and mesmerizing bands to emerge this decade. After the near universal acclaim for their second album, 2006’s Return to Cookie Mountain, it seemed hard to fathom that they would be able to outdo themselves once again. On their third album it seems like they’ve done just that. Their decision to shift into slightly more inviting sonic territory and their use of more instantly gratifying tunes has served them extremely well. They have not necessarily sacrificed their experimental nature for more accessible songcraft, but rather interlaced it more heavily with songs that for the first time in their career seem to come more from their hearts than their heads.
Brooklyn’s TV on the Radio are a product of a number of factors, some explainable and others not. Just listening to this album, there is undeniable influence stemming from such former legends as David Bowie and Prince. We are reminded of Bowie’s progressive, cutting edge sound from his classic LP Low on tracks like “Stork and Owl”, while on tracks like “Golden Age” and “Lover’s Day” there are moments of Prince’s sex-infused sound topped by towering falsettos. While these two artists certainly lent some colors to the band’s music palette, it is the band itself that has developed a sound that is both totally originally and incredibly powerful. Their post-expressionistic mentality has encouraged them to tap into a number of different of genres (post-rock, jazz, rap, classical, funk, electronic, ska) and somehow culminate them into an entirely fascinating and new sound.
On Dear Science, TVOTR is especially effective for their ability to manifest the spirit of the times in which we currently live in, accurately capturing a sense of uncertainty in one of the most uncertain times in American history. In opening track “Halfway Home”, the track begins with Adebimpe’s subdued and level-headed vocals pushing through persistent synths, attacking hand claps, and a persistent percussive beat. However, when he reaches the chorus his rise to a vulnerable falsetto feels like he’s regrettably giving in to the pressures that surround him.
The remainder of the album follows the pattern of the opening track, constantly switching back and forth between a sense of persistence to one of surrender. Whether its blaring horns (“Dancing Choose”), dark undertones of synths (“DLZ”), or abrasive rhthyms, there is always a sense of lingering danger in the world that TV on the Radio manifests. However, Tunde Adebimpe and Kyp Malone continue to boldly push through the darkness in hopes of reaching the light that we all know is at the end of the tunnel.
The combination of the last two tracks signifies this most effectively. “DLZ” is the second to last track, entrenching us in a world filled with fear and paranoia with thundering bass beats and cryptically lulling female vocals. Adebimpe’s vocals sound as if he is cautiously stepping through this terrifying atmosphere, only to crack under the pressure with his haunting and cathartic cry “This is beginning to feel like the dawn of the loser forever…”. Thus leading into the closer “Lover’s Day”, which becomes a curiously comforting signification of hope for the near future. While the subject matter is actually very sexual (another ode to Prince), the sound of the music is both enchanting and incredibly optimistic. After 10 tracks of uncertainty, “Lover’s Day” elevates us up to the top of the mountain, finally allowing us to see the joyous possibility that our future holds.
Moments like this are what make billions of people choose to turn to music as an accessible guide for understanding the incredibly complex world we live in. While thousands of news outlets may inform us on what's going on in the world (as exemplified by the character in “Dancing Choose”), music can often capture the world around us better than anything else. As the great Aldous Huxley once wrote, “after silence, that which comes closest to expressing the inexpressible is music.”
"Oh let's get old fashioned, Back to how things used to be. If I get old, old fashioned, Would you get old, old fashioned with me?" - Frightened Rabbit, Old Old Fashioned
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