Reviews by kuvien

When you take your synthesizer and microphone scuba diving with you.

Damn. A lot of lonely motherfuckers out there who hate the passage of time and sunny days. Music when you've realized everything is stale and old. Do you ever just wonder why you even try?

Music performed by an exquisite ensemble of voice, setar, kemençe, kanun, oud, percussion, and cheychak, exploring the Arabic and Persian poetry of Rumi (1207-1273). Make this part of your quiet, elegant evening.

Totally atmospheric and immersive. Listen to this without distractions and you'll get drawn in. There's a lot going on, actually, underneath the heavy, sustained guitar chords and sparse drumming.

You might as well light candles around the room and wrap yourself in a shroud while listening to this. Wait until night, and make sure it’s foggy outside. One way or the other, you’ll find out if you are haunted.

The Wynton Marsalis of folk. Some people will think this is peak folk. LMAO

Over half the tracks on this seven-track album are jazz interpretations of original (gnawa?) songs, which would explain the moments of liturgical Islamic singing over the rich, ritualistic drumming. The other three tracks are original Bekkas compositions, with Kajfeš, Nordenström, and Pasborg contributing to the final track. A warm mystery permeates every corner of this album, inviting the jazz listener into new avenues of the near-limitless genre. The gumbri and the oud guide the joyful, distant trumpets and the wide-eyed piano along meandering, psychedelic routes. The destination of those routes is some funky-ass fusion.

The slow waltz of a lazy brass parade, very similar to their debut, but this time ostensibly through France. Lovely string arrangements by Owen Pallett in this unexpected meeting ground of the influences of chanson and Balkan folk, with all Condon's new, "exotic" instruments inviting you to take a charming tour with him, a trip down a lane of which you have no memory.

The comparison to Neutral Milk Hotel is inevitable, and I guess there are moments where they sound similar, but the overall Balkan sounds in the brass band separate them. There are certain albums that really nail the "thoughtful teenager" shtick. This is one of them. A lot of this album sounds like a slow parade through some forgotten village.

I embrace the playful, silly virtuosity wholeheartedly. This album is like trying to take a nap in a hammock during a wind storm all the trumpet fowl (ducks mostly) enjoying the gale. This is the kind of music you play after having an argument with your mother (because you've gutted the kitchen for everything to make the music with--except the sink). Carousels turning within carousels, nested like babushka dolls. And the "singing"? Though it be madness, yet there is method in it.

A really bad, overwrought album. Painful to listen to.

Despite sounding embarrassingly like The Beatles on a couple tracks, this album has a lot of early psychedelic pop gems from a band known mostly for their disco schlock.

An old favorite, this album is always a delight to revisit. It's super lo-fi but without any sloppiness. "I Get Lonesome" is one of Beck's best songs ever, across all albums. Stomp on the floor and sing it loud! I'm often surprised that this album gets passed up when Beck fans discuss his work, because I think this is just as good as Odelay or Sea Change, the critical darlings.

This is a weird album for me, because when I first heard it, I thought it was a Best Of compilation. I have no idea why I thought that. I guess it's because I think every song is excellent, and yet they all sound so dissimilar? I don't know. Or maybe it's because this album feels like it doesn't have an overall theme or feel that unites the tracks? I don't know. This album has grown on me over the years and is now one of my favorites. For some reason, this album feels like a dusty walk through the desert, a journey that ends at a saloon full of miscreants and ne'er-do-wells, just like me. Hats pulled down over the eyes, everyone a stranger. Must be the sad, lonely imagery across the songs.

Mature Beck is mature. Chill Beck is chill. It’s interesting to see his arc over his whole career. He really doesn’t seem like the same person who sang, “whisky-stained bucktooth backwoods creep, grizzly bear motherfucker never goes to sleep”. I guess this album is just about Grammy worthy, too.

I remember when this album came out and was surprised at how it got panned. What? This album is fun, interesting, and everything Beck hadn't been up to this point. Even isn't as engaging as this masterpiece is. Sure, a lot of Midnite Vultures sounds tongue in cheek, but that's because it is. This album is Beck's ultimate mix: he just threw a bunch of genres into a blender and had fun with it all.

The song that put Beck on the map, "Loser", is actually the weakest song on this album. For most people, this is Beck's debut. Maybe the lead single, so overplayed as to become trite in many music nerds' minds, is the reason Mellow Gold hasn't gotten the love it deserves. Many years ago, I took Beck's sage advice and have ever since been giving the finger to the rock n roll singer who dances upon my paycheck. Beck simply doesn't get better than "Truckdrivin Neighbors Downstairs", spoken intro and all. Come on, motherfucker! Put your clothes on!

Manly as hell, not giving a single fuck. And for that alone, I can respect this. There is this scene in a Star Trek: the Next Generation episode where a beautiful woman learns to play an obscure horn that is supposed to soothe the nerves of some alien species. I suppose this guy's gruff voice does the same for Croatians. The singalong parts, however, are corny.

When I first started listening to music seriously all those years ago, back in the mists of time when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, one of the first serious, critical opinions I came across was that this is the best pop / rock album of all time. And for a while, I nodded and went along with that opinion. It didn’t take long for me to realize, however, that this is not the case. I’m not trying to take anything away from this album—I love it, I rate it a perfect 5—but the best ever? Not even close. Anyway, it’s a fun album with a lot of different things going on. I mean, “When I’m Sixty Four” follows “Within You Without You”, the two most dissimilar tracks on the album, the former being a silly song with an old dancehall feel, the latter a philosophical exploration with a sitar.

This album took an unprecedented four months to make--unheard of in pop music at the time, and although it was supposed to be a concept album and inspired other concept albums for years to come, Ringo explained it best when he told an interviewer that The Beatles had an idea for a concept but part way through just said "oh sod it!" The album cover is brilliant, though, isn't it? A stained-glass window into the 20th century, chock full of athletes, politicians, artists, authors, and entertainers. It took two full weeks just to make that collage.

This album is recorded on four-track recording, where each voice and instrument is recorded on a separate track, and once combined, the tracks couldn't be altered. This therefore required better studio performances from the band. They had to do away with their characteristic carelessness and discipline themselves. The sounds solidify as the album progresses because there was no throwing away and re-doing. Overall, this gives the album a forward-thinking feel.

So what were the unique (at the time) features of Sgt. Pepper's? First, obviously, is the time put into production. Please Please Me took a total of 10 hours. That's it. Sgt Pepper's took 700 hours. Also on this album The Beatles insisted on being different for its own sake. They wanted new, interesting sounds, setting limits and adding compression or distortion. They put microphones on orchestral instruments. They used oscillators to vary the speed of the vocals and the instruments. They took tapes and chopped them up like cabbage, sticking them back together upside down and/or the wrong way around. And how about the end of the album? Those few seconds of nonsense tape-loop is one example of advanced studio trickery and yet another demonstration of John's penchant for experimentation.

Before the Beatles, critical analysis of music was mainly confined to the genres of jazz and modern classical, but with the evolution of pop music in the late 60s, critics started taking a serious look at what “the kids” were listening to. Critics especially loved to dig into Lennon’s lyrics, looking for deep meaning, looking for clues to his childhood, looking for his personal philosophy. Beatles’ lyrics were even being analyzed in schools, a fact that surprised and disgusted Lennon. So in typical Lennon fashion, he wrote a nonsense song, hoping that the “idiot” public would attempt to analyze it and fail.

Enter “I Am the Walrus”, a psychedelic classic if there ever was one. This hodgepodge of surreal images and literary references was Lennon’s deliberate attempt to confuse pop music analysts. He wrote it while under the influence of LSD, and he wanted critics to interpret his gibberish and wisdom. Martin’s influence is at work here, too, what with the classical accompaniment of eight violins, four cellos, three horns, and a clarinet. The critics took the bait: everyone tried to analyze it, sparking debate about the inherent meaningless of words as it was heralded as a trailblazing, psychedelic masterpiece.

This album, the soundtrack to a bad movie, was the first dip in the Beatles’ career. See, Brian Epstein had just died, and McCartney took control of the band without anyone asking him to do so. The movie is basically a rip-off of what Ken Kesey and his Merry Pranksters did, when the hippie acid-gurus from California went on their “bus to nowhere” adventures. What happened, however, was a movie without a script or a coherent vision. They couldn’t agree on where to film, and there was no proper casting for the actors.

The original UK release was just an EP with six tracks, but the US release added five more tracks from uncollected singles.