(t5!) My Year In Lists 2006: Albums! 10 to 6
Old Belle & Sebastian albums used to cower from the heavier offerings of rock. It’s not so much whiny or despondent, but it was soft, apologetic, and introverted. But the Scots decided to change all that by designating a “power” to their pop. If the second-to-latest album, Dear Catastrophe Waitress, was them lifting weights and punching the bags, The Life Pursuit is their arrival to the playground, beefed up and self-assured. Not to go as far as to say that their ready to take lunch money from others, but—with their drums, organs, flutes, and piano chords adapting a faster and sunnier tempo—at least it refuses to be pushed around anymore and it can dance zestfully without looking over their shoulders for the bullies of rock.
[Dress Up In You | We Are The Sleepyheads | For The Price Of A Cup Of Tea]
It was a review I found difficult to devise, mainly, because its exact description is elusive. It’s like a dream where the details are hazy afterwards but its importance to you is undeniable. The electronic beats, the sporadic keyboards, strings, and cello compose something dynamic, but it’s also abstract and I fear that I’m restricting its illustriousness by trying to elucidate what, I think, it’s suppose to sound like. Its peculiarity, I’m sure, has purpose. It serves as a playground for Doseone’s outstanding subliminal flow to roll around in, which is an anomaly by itself. The delivery’s rapid-fire and the words aren’t discernible, but its phonetics and syllable placement
is unmatched. So, listen to it already so we can compare notes.
[A Tale Of Apes I | A Tale Of Apes II | Middleclass Kill]
The thick noise made it hard to pierce at first. I was playing online poker and instant messaging while the album debuted in the background. It didn’t receive the attention it warranted. Second go-round: I was running on a treadmill and I had it as a companion and, suddenly, it all made sense. I let the noise replace the surrounding environment and it seemed like I was running on Cookie Mountain’s dark nadir—a world where rock, soul, jazz and doo-wop coexist. Once engrossed by this world, it’s easier to tune in to Tunde Adebimpe, we’re now both amidst this atmosphere and there’s nothing to disconnect me from his powerful chant. Entry’s arduous but once that is left behind, it’s surely an enchanting trip.
[I Was A Lover | Province | Dirtywhirl]
It’s been exhausted that “weird noises’” are Guillemots’ selling point, the eccentricities that have the ability to propel them far from Keane comparisons however close their styles may be. Then “weird” may be a subjective classification because they aren’t that to me. Sure, when trying to impart their ideas of love, optimism and despair, they use every tool in the shed to do so. It’s just that pop music has become torpidly conventional that the presence of a stand-up bass, jazz percussions or orchestral symphonies on a regular basis seem abnormal. And when Fyfe Dangerfield’s passionate high registry is up front of it all, the buoyant melody is all you’re paying attention to anyway, causing you to overlook the hyperbolized backing.
[Through The Windowpane | We’re Here | Sao Paolo]
They aren’t trailblazers; they’re not wheel reinventors. Their mix of country twang, indie rock wall of sound, and singer/songwriter tranquility has been done before. Countless bands and artists have been mentioned for comparison—My Morning Jacket, R.E.M., Neil Young. Vocalist Ben Bridwell’s restricted wail strikes a close resemblance to Built To Spill’s Doug Martsch or The Flaming Lips’ Wayne Coyne. Their heart-on-sleeve songwriting is not even any different from the lyrical prowess of their old band, Carissa’s Wierd. Even their city of origin, Seattle, is a music cliché. But despite the album’s lack of innovation, the guitar hooks are unyielding, the lyrics are touching, and the melody’s haunting. Originality’s overrated.
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