Reviews by dutch-point-pro

Neil Young is a gifted musician but he didn’t let that get in the way of writing the songs on this album. While this features a trio of classics, the rest are pretty underwhelming. The aesthetic with Crazy Horse is to record without rehearsing, in an effort to capture the authentic ‘feel’ and ‘vibe’ before anything becomes routine. Unfortunately, this experimental method causes a lot more failure than success, so for every ‘Down by the River’, we have to endure a few tracks like ‘Round and Round’ and ‘Running Dry’. Lastly, the vocals are poor throughout on this one (I’m especially looking at you, backing vocals on Everyone Knows) but the instrumentals are tight and intricate, the real saving grace on this one.

An early 1970s live synth pop version of a composition from the Russian classical forefather of Modest Mouse, written a hundred years earlier, while he was literally drinking himself to death. There are so many reasons to dislike this that I can’t commit to just one. Let’s just call it a lesson in pretentiousness and move on.

I’m over this whole “wall of sound” thing. So, I’m gonna write my review in “wall of sound” style just to regain a little sanity. Here goes:
People build walls either to keep things in or to keep them out so they are usually made of stronger stuff than sound I prefer my walls made of wood and sheet rock or brick and mortar but almost anything substantial will do in a pinch but you need something palpable to make an effective wall remember Wall of Voodoo, the 80s band who had that cool song Mexican Radio I’m on the Mexican ray-dee-ohh I’m on the Mexican whoa-oh radio Whoa Joey Lawrence said “Whoa” on television Yeah that was his character’s catch phrase on Blossom the character Blossom was played by Mayim Bialik who also hosted Jeopardy a game show which takes place in front of a giant wall The Wall is an album by Pink Floyd and also a movie that was about the second world war but also a rock star and drugs it was pretty confusing also confusing is the whole “play this album while watching the Wizard of Oz” thing or was that Dark Side of the Moon I’m not sure but I know that a lot of drugs werre involved in both albums speaking of drugs I think you have to be pretty stoned to enjoy more than a few minutes of Sonic Youth’s music I mean seriously chemically enhanced all I can imagine is people spinning around in circles while listening to this music but they’re wearing turtlenecks and berets and shit I’m not sure but I know it definitely is not my scene and if I were to end up at one of their concerts I wouldn’t be dancing, I’d be standing … against the wall.

It’s hard to hate on any part of this album. It just rocks out with impassioned vocals and the instrumental side is interesting and keeps your attention. Yes, it’s over the top, but in an engaging way and no more so than “I love darkness” heavy metal or “ I love my baby” Pop and R&B jams. Plus, it’s meatloaf … it ain’t fine dining, but everyone loves meatloaf.

Björk sings art songs like she is some sort of post-modern troubadour. This is not a judgment, a criticism or an opinion - it’s straight fact. She is an anachronism - or I guess more properly, she is a prochronism, as she apparently is from the future. But, I’m not totally sure that’s correct either, because I don’t think she IS from the future - I don’t think Björk is actually from ANY rime or ANY place - I think she’s fucking insane and her music is Björing as shit. There, I said it. Musical genius my ass - you wanna impress me? Take the wheel for a little while, motherfucker!

You’re the plus one at her cousin’s wedding, in one of those woodsy New England towns that only Noah Kahan knows about. At the reception, the band was instructed to play only originals because the couple want to ‘support local artists’. While the idea was thoughtful, you’re now suffering through the third hour of ‘creative’ offerings from “The Bees”, who have been very faithful to the happy couples’ request for authenticity (although I’m pretty sure a stripped down version of 311’s Come Original was thrown in there at some point). It sounds like there’s not much left in them, but the Shelburne Lounge and Ballroom at the Ramada Inn North only rents in 4 hour blocks, so this party’s gonna keep rolling.
Now, if you put your iPhone on the table, cue up a voice recording and let it run, the result would be this album.

This is a terribly written review, but I ran it through a Korg synthesizer so that makes it better, right?

What do you do with a jam band that can’t write a cohesive song? Just noodle around on your guitars for an unfocused hour or so, I guess.

A classic that is a bit too overhyped. Of course it has the legendary tunes, and some great lesser hits, but it runs too long and songs melt together stylistically on this long double album. While he writes a great song, Dulan needs to ‘kill his darlings’ on this one. He is at his best when the poetry is sparse, but here it is indulgent, with verse after verse of turgid metaphor. This is an important album and a good one, but it’s not without its faults.

There’s only one Tom Waits and that’s probably a good thing. His voice is a sharp, bladed weapon, rasped and knicked over time - a knife that can be used to either reveal or destroy any word.
Now, as someone who has stabbed a few folks in my day, I can tell you that how you wield a knife makes a big difference. When you hold the blade exposed and at length, it becomes a defensive weapon, used to keep people away. In this way, Waits’ voice is least persuasive, like on The Earth Died Screaming. You anticipate the jagged edge of his rasp in these apocalyptic songs and it keeps you at bay. In contrast, using the knife as a weapon of intimacy and employing the element of surprise at close range is a far more effective strategy. Waits’ voice is most dangerous where it is least expected, like if it rings with humor or sentiment when given the chance.
Unfortunately, this album doesn’t afford him many of those opportunities. Due to that simple element, I much prefer Small Change or Rain Dogs to this album.

I have to disagree with the establishment on this one. I don’t like this Wailers album as much as many of their other offerings and I can’t count it as one of their best. It feels slow, safe, measured and overproduced. The power, energy and joy that draws me to their other music is all but absent from this one. Give me Rastaman Vibration or Exodus everyday over this one.

2112 is not a date in the future … it’s the damn run time of the first song. Good Lord of Canada! Put down that guitar and slowly step away from the synth and no one needs to get hurt.

Let’s try this another way: The word Prog spelled backwards is G-O-R-P.
GORP |noun| (North American Informal)- a mixture of nuts, dried fruit, and chocolate used for energy while hiking; trail mix. The term was popularized in the 1970s. (New Oxford English Dictionary).

Coincidence? I think not. Prog Rock is a collection of randomly assembled goodies which, although perfectly fine on their own, become an overwhelming mess when thrown together. The function of GORP is purely strategic, designed for sustainable energy, not built for taste or enjoyment. This, too, is true of Prog Rock. While the pieces of instrumentation are supposed to somehow fit together nicely here, in a tasteful melange, they don’t - they battle and drone on, with extended solos and unwelcome reprises in the name of intricacy. This album is a great example of death by a thousand long, drawn-out cuts. With each little glissando run or gimmicky harmonic overtone or time change, there is another layer of artifice piled on, and it becomes so excessive that the story is all but lost in the delivery. I almost wish this was an instrumental album so I could stop trying to understand the lyrics and decipher a meaning or story from them.

When my mom used to put out a bowl of GORP while entertaining, I always picked the raisins and the M&Ms out and ate those, leaving behind a big bowl of peanuts. I wish I could do the same with 2112.

To quote Nancy Kerrigan: “Why?”
A soundtrack doesn’t work as a standalone album and this one is incredibly scattershot any way you serve it up. It’s a collection of moody, redundant musical riffs that grow tiresome pretty quickly. The spoken word is not at all integrated and stands out as a startling choice anytime you let yourself sink into the vibe. The words French Electronica should have been enough of a clue that this would be a slog, but throw in the soundtrack element and this was doomed from the start.

Maybe I’m not sophisticated enough to get Prog Rock, but I bet it sounds great when you listen to it sitting alone in your parent’s basement on a Friday night. I penalized them one star for that cover of America. That was unforgivable.

If Martin Scorsese made a 3 hour movie about fishing, would you watch it all the way through?
What if Emeril Lagasse did an extended series on braising cabbage? You in for the whole ride?
That’s the kind of question that this album asks of me. It gives me masterful artists that I really appreciate, but going on journeys that I’m not sure I want or need to follow. While the band is tight and their chops across the styles are deft, it feels like variety for variety’s sake. Look now it’s punk, then ska, reggae, rockabilly, straight rock, pop, power ballads. I understand they were searching for a new sound, but, maybe pick a lane or two and give this ride some focus. Where’s the producer here? Oh, he’s busy getting high and throwing ladders around? Well, that explains it.
Beyond London Calling and Train in Vain, there are some real exceptional standouts on this album like Spanish Bombs, Clampdown and Lost in the Supermarket. Because it succeeds on so many levels, it deserves a high rating, but it also needs some editing. Unless you subscribe to the theory that punk IS excess … in which case, it just might be perfect.

They sound like Hole if Courtney Love was good at music. I never understood the hype around Sleater-Kinney … kind of a critics’ darling band that never lived up to the hype, at least in my eyes.

Well, whaddya know? We actually got some real punk on this list instead of the post-punk, pop-punk crap we’ve been wading through lately. You can definitely hear the parallels to The IStooges here, but The Saints are more melodic. They were one of the first punk bands and their sound helped birth the movement’s explosion in the mid-70s. They provided substantial influence on many big name descendants in this style, and you can hear future bands like the Ramones, the New York Dolls, Rancid, and the Libertines in these songs. It’s hard to believe this album is from 1978 because it still sounds alive and fresh today.

Brazilian funk? All right, I’m in. Got a little repetitive for me after a bit, but still a funkin’ good time.

The most anonymously generic music that 1983 ever synth popped.

If you make it past Morrissey’s dour vocal delivery, you’ll find some intricate, innovative instrumentals at work behind him. Great guitar work with unusual tones and unexpected hooks in so many places, dancing with the upbeat action of the bass and the drums to form the backbone of great singles on this progressive album that was ahead of its time. You can hate on his whining voice or his maudlin lyrics (which are actually full of puns and humor if you look at them more closely), and you wouldn’t be off base for the criticism. But, to my ears, the B-side of this album stands up strongly against anything else from the decade.