The Animal Show » The Music Biz in the Internet Age

BQE In Review: Sufjan’s Triumph

Edward — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 15:14:36 +0000

I'd advise not judging albums by their covers, too.

Recently, Sufjan Stevens gave an interview in which he confessed

I’m tired of these grand, epic endeavors, and wanting to just make music for the joy of making music and having it be immediate and nothing to do with the industry itself, which, y’know is suffering right now of course. And I think it has to do with a creative crisis too. I’m wondering what am I doing?

While it’s easy to take that quote out of context, torque and sensationalize it to turn it into some sort of indication of imminent retirement, the heart of his point pulses through nonetheless: he is the master of a dying form. At his finest, Sufjan is the essence of the perfect album, with an ear suited for the variegated themes (musical and lyrical) necessary to sustain a listener through the 40 to 80 minutes an album commands. And The BQE has the strength to stand up among Stevens’ other contemporary classics, delivering the feeling and range of emotion we’ve come to expect from the troubadour with the impronounceable name.

I’ll be the first to admit that, when I heard Sufjan was going to be composing an entirely instrumental suite, I was dismayed. The fact that this suite was in honor of a highway did little to assuage my fears. It seemed another flight of fancy, sure to delay the long-awaited follow-up to my potentially favorite album of the aughts, Come On, Feel the Illinoise! But I was and am an unstoppably ravenous Sufjan fan, a Sufjan omnivore, a Sufjan scavenger, searching endlessly through the internet trashcans outside his proverbial house, looking for scraps of songs and discarded ideas. I found videos, heard cell-phone recordings, and hula-hoops, some of which I would later share with you. He was starting to win me over with his trademark nerdy grace and gentle melodies.

An expressway is an odd choice for an orchestral suite. I know there are some who see emotion even in the most brutalistic and nonfeeling of concrete structures (for example, icebergxc, in his short-lived tenure on our high school’s prom committee, was uniquely outspoken in his insistence that the event be held in a parking garage; needless to say, he was one of a very select few with that opinion), but it’s certainly uncommon. Still, if there’s one musician capable of projecting Americana onto a blank gray slate, it’s Sufjan Stevens.

In many strange ways, BQE is his greatest triumph as a songwriter. It’s no easy task to convey emotions wordlessly; it’s hard enough to do so lyrically. Sufjan had already shown himself as effortlessly brilliant with tunes like “That Was the Worst Christmas Ever!,” “Casimir Pulaski Day,” “For the Widows in Paradise, for the Fatherless in Ypsilanti,” or “Springfield,” whose lyrics are inexplicably more tear-inducing with every additional play.* Similarly, with sweeping strings and grating guitars in “Chicago,” “Sister,” or “Majesty, Snowbird,” he showed his versatility. But this tour de force knows no boundaries. It accumulates all the styles of Sufjanic brilliance from along the ways — the distortion of Seven Swans, the accessibility of Illinoise/Avalance and the electro-pop of his new songs all seamlessly combine to make an album that’s beautifully varied and eminently listenable.

Sufjan dances and moves throughout, shape-shifting between Brahms in “Movement VI — Isorhythmic Night Dance with Interchanges,” Brubeck piano-hyper-rhythmic in “Interlude III — Invisible Accidents,” and wandering with a Miles Davis Sketches of Spain horn in “Sleeping Intruder.” And all this is done with a signature Sufjan Stevens smirk, a little twee twinge or a familiar echo of a string quartet. It’s homey, familiar, and intriguingly innovative.

More than that, it’s a powerful album. You may have heard of the “Mozart Effect” on infants; I propose that there’s a “Sufjan Stevens Effect” on 20-year-olds, because I’m certainly feeling it now. But even if you aren’t like me, where every note hits as more perfect and beautiful than the last, there’s something for everyone. Even if you can’t lose yourself in it entirely, it could easily be used as a study aid (see: “Mozart Effect”) or background music for your next philosophical debating society meeting.

Simply put, I love this album. A flight of fancy it may be, but Sufjan has the musical capacity to pull it off accessibly and wonderfully. There aren’t adverbs positive enough to describe his composition. Moreover, the joy he discussed in that interview above is palpable in every one of his songs, which can easily be ascertained in one quick listen.

Let’s just hope he releases his follow-up to Illinoise soon. Some of us are dying out here.

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player
(Download) this music.

Movement I: In the Countenance of Kings – Sufjan Stevens (YSI)

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player
(Download) this music.

Movement IV: Traffic Shock – Sufjan Stevens (YSI)

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player
(Download) this music.

Movement VII (Finale): The Emperor of Centrifuge – Sufjan Stevens (YSI)

*I’ve never been moved to tears by a song though, because, what am I, a wuss? Losers.

This Weeks’ News.

Dave — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 03:45:14 +0000

This album art was designed by someone who writes for the show and is not named Dave, dfjacobs, icebergxc, or marquismeowmersiv.

When I talk of magical realism, there’s a good chance I’m either talking about Gabriel Garcia Marquez, whose work I was forced to read in Spanish once upon a time, Haruki Murakami, whose work I chose to devote my life to once upon a time, or a Philadelphia Eagles Superbowl, a cause I choose to support despite its grim possibilities. I could also be talking about one man, Louis Weeks, whose influence led me to know about and write posts such as this one.

Louis has introduced me to some great music, including the music he’s created himself. Louis, the ever-anxious musician, has offered his musical expertise to many different pursuits, including but not limited to great a-cappella, months of the year, gibberish, and fruit. (Click on each link. It’s worth it.) Throughout all the work, there is a dynamic quest for invention, supplying different soundsets, but always a common thread of what is, ostensibly, himself. While up until now, it has been up to the listener to decide what that common thread of “Louis” is, he has finally taken it upon himself to make himself infinitely clear in his newest release, “Broken English.” And he does…kinda.

“Unlike Louis’ previous efforts, this features exclusively the man and his guitar, providing unparallaled intimacy.” This quote, taken right from his personal music page, outlines the goal of this four song EP quite plainly. But it doesn’t really work like that. The EP is an oasis of pensivity, and while it is honest, it is not quite forthcoming. ”Unparalleled intimacy,” to me, infers that you’d get right down to business like high school seniors in the hours after Senior Prom; this EP, though only four songs, challenges the listener, and the consistency of the slower, textured style serves as a wall preventing from immediate connection with the piece. Lyrically, he limits his words to, and sometimes past, the minimum–a lot like Justin Vernon does in a lot of Bon Iver songs. It makes the narratives a little oblique: “I hear trees fall, it doesn’t really mean it didn’t happen at all./looking for my hammer I found the culprit saw,/every little piece of you was down.” The listener really has to sit down, (included) lyrics sheet in hand, and listen to the textures provided by each note plucked, and each word sung before many it grows to deliver on its rewarding promise. It proves that intimacy, even unparalleled, is gained not given. When it is gained, it’s really awesome.

Not to say that I don’t have wishes. I do wish that there were a way to fit more musical variety in this release. Musical variety in four songs is tough, but why not include more than four songs? Some possible candidates can be discovered at his YouTube page and the MySpace pages for him and his band (and his other band). Even his personal website has a great song that plays over the homepage not included on the release. These places prove that he does have the capacity for greater versatility than he affords himself in Broken English. Why not show it? For fans of the songs here that want more, these are great places to get it. For people that don’t get what’s here, still a good place to see more of what he can do.

Below, I’ve included the two middle tracks of “Broken English,” including the title track. For the rest, check out http://www.louisweeksmusic.com/ and click on “Music.” It’s a free download that includes the album inserts. Do it. Why not?

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player
(Download) this music.

Louis Weeks – Broken English (YSI)

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player
(Download) this music.

Louis Weeks – The Culprit Saw (Down) (YSI)

Is It Time For An Audio Safari Again? Yes, Yes It Is Time For An Audio Safari Again.

You’re Doing It, Internet!

Edward — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 14:35:20 +0000

NB: In all seriousness, I've never actually used the Pirate Bay to get music. It stands as a handy image representation, though.

I was reading an article on my Kindle* today from USA Today** that suggested that 95% of music downloaded via the internet was stolen. At first I was outraged, and then I reasoned out that, if the Animal Show represents 95% of the traffic on the internet (and it does) and the Animal Show supplies music free of charge (and it does), then it would make sense that the 95% of the music downloaded on the internet came from the Animal Show, and was therefore stolen. Right?

In all seriousness, the proliferation of music piracy represents something much bigger than falling album sales — customers (like you and me) are perceiving less value in an album of music than they did 9 short years ago. Listening is beginning to be seen as a right, not a privilege. I often rationalize blogs like the Show as the radio of the 21st century (because this helps me sleep at night), which is a parallel that only makes sense up to a certain point: while the internet undeniably provides fora for new music to be heard and enjoyed, it also provides unparalleled access for free. As a blog-reader, I’m going to go ahead and assume you have a relatively high amount of tech-savvy. Therefore, you would know that finding and enjoying new music doesn’t take the path that I am forced to act that it does. I’ve seen the click-through data for the Amazon links I put at the bottom of each post, and can say with some degree of certainty that they end up having basically no impact on the album sales for the artist I’m writing about. And I don’t mean in terms of “album sales” (ie on a scale of thousands or more), but instead in absolute terms — if I’ve made a post where 10 out of the 1000+ people who read it click through to Amazon to even think about buying the album, I’m doing something right. And to shoot for a 1% success rate is somewhat depressing.

But I know that, as tech-savvy readers (and, theoretically, as music lovers) you have sought out more from artists whom I’ve posted about and whom you enjoyed. Instead of purchasing their music, this takes the form of downloading the album from any number of free sources, from torrent servers like The Pirate Bay (which is dumb, and you shouldn’t do it) to online hotspots like megaupload, Yousendit, or mediafire (which provide the more intelligent way to download).

Is this worrisome? Yes. Certainly. Do I use these services? Yes, all the time. I’m proud of the fact that I spend the most considerable portion of my disposable income on music, whether it’s concert tickets, merchandise, or albums. But I simply don’t really believe in paying for digital music. Like most consumers, I want to be able to hold in my hand the item I’ve laid money out for. As a result, I probably end up buying 25% of the albums I consume. Sometimes I’ll download first and then buy and sometimes I’ll never buy. I don’t feel bad about it. I’ve grown tired of spending $18 on an album which I don’t know if I’ll enjoy. It’s much lower risk to download and delete bad albums. Hard drive space is hardly at a premium. For a long while I’d been an outspoken supporter of buying cds (which the amount of near-worthless plastic cluttering my room at home can attest to), but I’m growing tired of trying to right a sinking ship by throwing money at it.

I’m writing about this mainly because I think there are a lot of interesting issues in the music business that need discussion, and, as music bloggers and consumers of music blogs, we are the decisionmakers, tastemakers, and, at the most basic level, thieves. Again, I’m not losing much sleep at night, but that’s also because I’ve convinced myself that artists make music, first and foremost, to be heard. Not to make money. They have to earn a livelihood, definitely, but I’d bet that 98% of the up-and-comers playing weekly club-stays would say that they’d rather see a full house of people who hadn’t payed than a 60% capacity crowd that had.

This is an issue we at the Show are going to be coming back to with some semblance of frequency (fortnightly? monthly?) to discuss, from each of our different perspectives. Hopefully it’ll be really rewarding for you, the listener. Or it’ll strengthen our already-impressive bounce rate, as more people coming from Hype Machine for the songs stick around for the words. Writers are like musicians in that they want to be read. Jot that down.

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player
(Download) this music.

Krazy Day N Nite (Pitbull vs. Lil Jon vs. Kid Cudi vs. Crookers) – A plus D (YSI)

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player
(Download) this music.

My Girls (Gigamesh “Proper House” Remix) – Animal Collective (YSI)

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player
(Download) this music.

Animal – Miike Snow (YSI)

*Nobody actually owns a Kindle

**Nobody actually reads USA Today

When 8-bit goes bad.

Dave — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 14:49:41 +0000

'Nuff said.

Several things help us connect to older, simpler times. Some of us like to retreat to wide open fields located in remote reaches of the worlds; a lot of us still like people. Some others like to go one step more remote and try to remember the days when Weezer was good; a lot of us know better. For me, remembering those simple times comes back to one thing: 8-bit.

I remember the first time I played Nintendo, pushing Mario to walk or run using only the four directions the controller allowed you to. Who were we fooling? We could only really use two of those directions anyway. Those were days when things could only move forward or backward (on the screen, right or left), and when bumping your head on something didn’t hurt you, but gave you a chance to grow bigger and stronger, if only temporarily. Oh, 8-bit.

And the music! Always music, always stuck in your head much beyond hitting the off switch on the game. Always sounding more modern today than the day it was born, many only blossoming into themselves in this more modern age, with new spins on “old” ideas. Futurity, I say. 8-bit had it. That’s why I love the Gameboy Variations of Beck’s Guero so much. That’s why I like cheap MIDI covers of songs.

But 8-bit has a dark side. It’s not black, but rather, kind of blue. Or as the creators like to say, “Kind of Bloop.” I had this conversation with the project’s visionary, Andy Bajo, in my own head:

Me: Andy, I’ve listened to “Kind of Bloop” now. So tell me, why did you decide to take a shit all over a classic album like “Kind of Blue?”

Andy:

Me: Okay, so maybe I phrased that a bit strongly. Let’s try this: how did you decide on 8-bit as the perfect medium to castrate the soul of Miles Davis?

Andy:

Me: Fine. Probably still coming on a bit harshly. Why does–

Andy: BLAEEEEEEEEERRRGGGGHHHH.

He screamed this as he put up his finger and pointed right at me, staring blankly past me into the unknown beyond. You see, it seems our friend Andy Bajo was really pod-person Andy Bajo. I took a shovel and jack handle and did his head in. Then, checking franticly around me, I ran away as quickly as I could with no apparent direction because if I didn’t the rest of the pod people would find me.

That was all in my head though. You can hear the actual reasons for the project here, or contribute to it here. The truth of the matter is that Miles’s music simply loses dimension in 8-bit. It all seems a bit flat, a bit two dimensional. Perhaps this should be unsurprising. The real Miles Davis would roll over in his grave, but movement in that dimension is impossible in the 8-bit world.

But with 8-bit, you take the good and the bad (and I have a few covers listed below to reflect it). I have to. It’s deliverance. It’s futurity.