La música que me gusta y comparto con amigos
5 feb 2012
The Dear Hunter: The Color Spectrum:
By Nianyi Hong 16 January 2012
The first thing that hits you about the Dear Hunter’s newest release, The Color Spectrum, is the length. Clearly, the Dear Hunter themselves understood that a 36-track, nine-EP collection of songs would be intimidating to the casual listener—to fix this issue, a shortened 11-song “greatest hits” compilation of the collection was created and released this June on CD. The Complete Collection itself was released at the same time on vinyl, but the band only recently put out a more accessible four-disc CD and DVD box set. But for those of us who have waiting for a CD release of The Complete Collection, it has been worth the wait. While the 11-song compilation of The Color Spectrum is excellent in it’s own right, it is the full collection that truly shines and shows The Dear Hunter as one of the most unique, creative, and ambitious acts in music today.
The Color Spectrum’s nine EPs each consist of four songs based on a color: Black, Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet, and White. Each has a distinctive feel, from the industrial and post-hardcore sounds from the Black EP to the sunny pop of the Yellow EP. The collection gradually mellows from the intense to the quiet and to a final climax that combines all the genres previously used. The variety of styles is clear, but the bigger question has to be, “Is it done well?” The answer is an unequivocal “yes.” Remarkably, there is an EP for everyone in this vast collection.
Fans of Casey Crescenzo’s old band, the Receiving End of Sirens, will find both the Black and Red EPs as a good starting point since they, no doubt, have the bleakest sounds. Crescenzo himself has described Black as coming from a dark place. The tracks echo this feeling—“Never Forgive, Never Forget” starts with industrial drums that harkens to Trent Reznor and Nine Inch Nails; it’s an epic and ominous track, introducing the Dear Hunter’s vast ambitions. Red is not as industrial as Black, as it mellows towards typical alt-rock. The sound gradually becomes more organic as the emotions take a calmer leaning from Black austerity.
These first two EPs are all that remains of the Dear Hunter’s post-hardcore beginnings. Orange is forgettable, but an adequate transition to the lighter sounds of Yellow and Green, which are the strongest EPs of the anthology. The Dear Hunter and Casey Crescenzo have rarely delved into indie-pop before, but Yellow shows that it’s a genre that they should attempt more. Both “She’s Always Singing” and “Misplaced Devotion” are perfect indie-pop singles with soaring choruses and ringing guitars. The juxtaposition of the Yellow EP with Red, Black, and Orange is stunning, as the transformation to bright, sunny pop is complete. “She’s Always Singing” in particular is one of the happiest and most uplifting songs of the year, and Yellow is easily the standout EP.
Green also finds the Dear Hunter branching out from it’s usual sound. This EP of mainly organic and acoustic tracks strips down songs into the most basic forms; the songs usually only consist of basic instrumentation—guitar, bass, drums—and harmonized vocals. It’s an unexpected and wholly appreciated break after the heft and pop of the previous tracks. Blue, Indigo, and Violet likewise each have their own sound. Blue adventures into post-rock, Indigo into electronica and ambient music, while Violet is perhaps the most similar to the Dear Hunter’s usual theatrical sound. All have their own charms.
The final climax comes with the White EP: an amalgamation of the first eight sets. The easiest way to describe White is that it soars with a life-affirming attitude. On “Home”, Crescenzo sings “Help is on the way / So come back home,” urging the listener to “not give up”. This, in essence, is the message of the final EP. By the end of the final track, “Lost But Not All Gone”, there is a feeling that nirvana and a final end to the journey has been reached, bringing together all that was fantastic about the first eight EPs and tying together all of the loose ends.
The Color Spectrum isn’t perfect, but with such an ambitious project, that’s to be expected. In particular, the Orange and Violet EPs tend to be on the weak side, but the sheer number of fantastic tracks—musically complex and accessible, lyrically intense and moving—outweighs these issues. It is rare that such a sweeping gesture is created; one with almost universal appeal is even rarer still. The Color Spectrum runs the gamut of the music spectrum from hardcore rock to post-rock and everything in between. Despite its flaws and over-ambition, it’s a true tour de force and one of the best albums of the year.
4 feb 2012
Charles Bradley
Un sueño hecho realidad
Biography
by Steve Leggett
Soul and R&B singer Charles Bradley definitely didn’t arrive as a recording artist by taking the easy route. Born in Gainesville, FL in 1948, but raised in Brooklyn, NY, Bradley spent a good part of his childhood living on the streets. A transformational moment came when his sister took him to see James Brown at the Apollo in 1962. Bradley was struck by Brown's energy and stage manner, and began practicing microphone tricks with a broom at home, dreaming of being a star on his own stage, and it was a dream he would never abandon in spite of all sorts of mishaps, misdirects, and general hard times. Bradley escaped Brooklyn by joining the federal program Job Corps, which took him to Bar Harbor, ME, where he learned to cook, a profession he was to fall back on time and time again. He also put together a band in Maine and began playing local gigs. The band didn’t last long, though, and when most of its members were drafted, and with the Vietnam War hanging in the air, Bradley moved to Wassaic, NY, where he worked as a cook at a hospital for the mentally ill. Nine years later, he left that position and hitchhiked west, ending up in Alaska for a time before moving to California, again taking a job as a chef, and for the next 20 years, he performed music on the side, playing whatever gigs he could find. When he was laid off from his position, though, he began to doubt the decision to live in so far from where he grew up, and he relocated back to Brooklyn, this time working at odd jobs instead of returning to being a chef. He never let go of his musical dreams, however, and he began performing his James Brown-inspired routines in such local clubs as Black Velvet, attracting a loyal following, and eventually capturing the attention of Gabriel Roth from Daptone Records, who immediately brought the fiery singer into label sessions, releasing a single, “Take It as It Comes,” that showed what Bradley had to offer as a vocalist. Roth also introduced Bradley to Thomas Brenneck, then a guitarist, songwriter, and home producer for Dirt Rifle & the Bullets. The pair had an affinity for each other musically, and together they released two singles on Daptone as Charles Bradley & the Bullets before the actual group by that name disbanded, with most of the members going in an Afro-beat direction with the Budos Band. Brenneck and Bradley continued to work together, though, and after Bradley told him about waking up in his home one morning to discover his nephew had shot and killed his brother, Brenneck suggested they tell the story in music as a catharsis and as a cautionary tale. The result, tracked with the Menahan Street Band, was a pair of impassioned singles, “The World (Is Going Up in Flames)” and “Heartaches and Pain,” which Brenneck released on his Daptone sub-imprint Dunham Records. These weren’t songs drawn from Bradley's Black Velvet act, but were instead highly personal and striking outings that put his own emerging voice as a singer and songwriter at the center of things. A full album for Dunham, No Time for Dreaming, appeared early in 2011.
Spofity
Biography
by Steve Leggett
Soul and R&B singer Charles Bradley definitely didn’t arrive as a recording artist by taking the easy route. Born in Gainesville, FL in 1948, but raised in Brooklyn, NY, Bradley spent a good part of his childhood living on the streets. A transformational moment came when his sister took him to see James Brown at the Apollo in 1962. Bradley was struck by Brown's energy and stage manner, and began practicing microphone tricks with a broom at home, dreaming of being a star on his own stage, and it was a dream he would never abandon in spite of all sorts of mishaps, misdirects, and general hard times. Bradley escaped Brooklyn by joining the federal program Job Corps, which took him to Bar Harbor, ME, where he learned to cook, a profession he was to fall back on time and time again. He also put together a band in Maine and began playing local gigs. The band didn’t last long, though, and when most of its members were drafted, and with the Vietnam War hanging in the air, Bradley moved to Wassaic, NY, where he worked as a cook at a hospital for the mentally ill. Nine years later, he left that position and hitchhiked west, ending up in Alaska for a time before moving to California, again taking a job as a chef, and for the next 20 years, he performed music on the side, playing whatever gigs he could find. When he was laid off from his position, though, he began to doubt the decision to live in so far from where he grew up, and he relocated back to Brooklyn, this time working at odd jobs instead of returning to being a chef. He never let go of his musical dreams, however, and he began performing his James Brown-inspired routines in such local clubs as Black Velvet, attracting a loyal following, and eventually capturing the attention of Gabriel Roth from Daptone Records, who immediately brought the fiery singer into label sessions, releasing a single, “Take It as It Comes,” that showed what Bradley had to offer as a vocalist. Roth also introduced Bradley to Thomas Brenneck, then a guitarist, songwriter, and home producer for Dirt Rifle & the Bullets. The pair had an affinity for each other musically, and together they released two singles on Daptone as Charles Bradley & the Bullets before the actual group by that name disbanded, with most of the members going in an Afro-beat direction with the Budos Band. Brenneck and Bradley continued to work together, though, and after Bradley told him about waking up in his home one morning to discover his nephew had shot and killed his brother, Brenneck suggested they tell the story in music as a catharsis and as a cautionary tale. The result, tracked with the Menahan Street Band, was a pair of impassioned singles, “The World (Is Going Up in Flames)” and “Heartaches and Pain,” which Brenneck released on his Daptone sub-imprint Dunham Records. These weren’t songs drawn from Bradley's Black Velvet act, but were instead highly personal and striking outings that put his own emerging voice as a singer and songwriter at the center of things. A full album for Dunham, No Time for Dreaming, appeared early in 2011.
Spofity
3 feb 2012
DAWES - Time Spent in Los Angeles (2011)
LOS MEJORES TEMAS DEL 2011
Nº 9 TIME SPENT IN LOS ANGELES
Después de ver el vídeo no sé si llamar a esta "Time Spent in Los Angeles" una de las mejores canciones del año o una de las canciones más bonitas del año. Al ver el vídeo me he quedado un poco Estrella Damm , sí esas canciones que sacan por la tele la marca cervecera para hacer su promoción. Dichosa globalización, esto es Menorca , Cadaques o Palm Beach ?, más boy meets girl , piscinas y caras de tontín! Global mainstream pop ! Les diré a los de la Damm que tengo una musiquita para ellos , les encantará. Stop al vídeo , me quedo con el disco que no lleva imagenes, una bonita canción, me gusta.
Chuck Prophet - Temple Beautiful
Single de su nuevo trabajo
by Hal Horowitz
Theme projects can be dicey propositions. For every successful one that examines a subject in a song cycle, many more fail miserably as performers strain and stretch lyrics to fit the matter at hand. Leave it to San Francisco's Chuck Prophet to turn that generalization upside-down on his twelfth studio release since the 1990 dissolution of Green on Red. This concept set centers on his San Francisco hometown. The 12 tunes on Temple Beautiful, named after an influential and long defunct S.F. punk club, sometimes only obliquely reference the city. In fact, without Prophet's song-by-song explanations in the press notes, it's often impossible to place this rootsy, melodic rock & roll to any particular location. Still, Prophet proudly declares that the album was "made in San Francisco, by San Franciscans about San Francisco." Regardless, this is another in a remarkably consistent series of terrific Prophet discs, filled with tightly wound blues-based rock, driven by his unassuming talk-sung vocals and ever-present, always imaginative Telecaster riffs. The dreamy trip-hop beats that once played a distinctive part in Prophet's sound have been replaced by a tough four-piece augmented by occasional horns, keyboards from producer Brad Jones, violin and cello, and even a guest vocal from San Francisco's Roy Loney, founding member of, and frontman for, the legendary Flamin' Groovies. The rather open-ended theme namechecks everyone from world-renowned S. F. figures such as Willie Mays to the far more obscure Emperor Norton, a British eccentric who moved there and a figure only those from the area would likely recognize. The 1978 Harvey Milk/George Moscone double homicide by Dan White is referenced in "White Night, Big City," but even those lyrics are obtuse with neither of the protagonist's names mentioned, although what sounds like found audio footage from the subsequent White Night Riots is a subtle addition. Some of the material least connected to the S.F. topic is the most successful. The lonely souls that populate "The Museum of Broken Hearts" have only a tangential relationship to AIDs, but the result is one of Prophet's most beautiful, moving, and mournful ballads, helped enormously by a simple, somewhat psychedelic elegiac violin that weaves throughout the chorus. The short '50s pastiche with Stax-styled soul sax and wife Stephanie Finch (oddly M.I.A. on many of these songs), "Little Girl, Little Boy" is a frisky antidote to some of the songwriter's darker, skewed visions. The latter is exemplified by the rocking and murderous "Who Shot John," another seemingly non-S.F. related item. Ultimately, despite his loftier intentions, this works perfectly well as another excellent Chuck Prophet collection that for most listeners only marginally adheres to its stated concept but is no less impressive because of that.
by Hal Horowitz
Theme projects can be dicey propositions. For every successful one that examines a subject in a song cycle, many more fail miserably as performers strain and stretch lyrics to fit the matter at hand. Leave it to San Francisco's Chuck Prophet to turn that generalization upside-down on his twelfth studio release since the 1990 dissolution of Green on Red. This concept set centers on his San Francisco hometown. The 12 tunes on Temple Beautiful, named after an influential and long defunct S.F. punk club, sometimes only obliquely reference the city. In fact, without Prophet's song-by-song explanations in the press notes, it's often impossible to place this rootsy, melodic rock & roll to any particular location. Still, Prophet proudly declares that the album was "made in San Francisco, by San Franciscans about San Francisco." Regardless, this is another in a remarkably consistent series of terrific Prophet discs, filled with tightly wound blues-based rock, driven by his unassuming talk-sung vocals and ever-present, always imaginative Telecaster riffs. The dreamy trip-hop beats that once played a distinctive part in Prophet's sound have been replaced by a tough four-piece augmented by occasional horns, keyboards from producer Brad Jones, violin and cello, and even a guest vocal from San Francisco's Roy Loney, founding member of, and frontman for, the legendary Flamin' Groovies. The rather open-ended theme namechecks everyone from world-renowned S. F. figures such as Willie Mays to the far more obscure Emperor Norton, a British eccentric who moved there and a figure only those from the area would likely recognize. The 1978 Harvey Milk/George Moscone double homicide by Dan White is referenced in "White Night, Big City," but even those lyrics are obtuse with neither of the protagonist's names mentioned, although what sounds like found audio footage from the subsequent White Night Riots is a subtle addition. Some of the material least connected to the S.F. topic is the most successful. The lonely souls that populate "The Museum of Broken Hearts" have only a tangential relationship to AIDs, but the result is one of Prophet's most beautiful, moving, and mournful ballads, helped enormously by a simple, somewhat psychedelic elegiac violin that weaves throughout the chorus. The short '50s pastiche with Stax-styled soul sax and wife Stephanie Finch (oddly M.I.A. on many of these songs), "Little Girl, Little Boy" is a frisky antidote to some of the songwriter's darker, skewed visions. The latter is exemplified by the rocking and murderous "Who Shot John," another seemingly non-S.F. related item. Ultimately, despite his loftier intentions, this works perfectly well as another excellent Chuck Prophet collection that for most listeners only marginally adheres to its stated concept but is no less impressive because of that.
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