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Back to the Beginning: DJ Shadow’s Endtroducing… vs. The Less You Know, The Better

Mighty_Hunter — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 17:00:12 +0000

Endtroducing…

You could, and probably should, consider this album to be the high-water mark for techno in the 1990s. According to The Guinness Book of World Records, Endtroducing… is the world’s “first album to be recorded using only sampled sounds.” That being the case, I’d love to get a look at the man’s record collection. I mean, seriously: the album’s first track, “Best Foot Forward,” is 48 seconds long and uses samples from at least 10 sources. It’s hard for a borderline-poor radio DJ in college like myself to even comprehend how he mixed all of those tracks in the studio, much less how he must do it when he performs in front of a live audience. He makes it sound easy, never letting you know that there’s been a transistion unless he wants you to know that there’s been a transition.

Finding and mixing all those samples together is one thing; making a track out of them is another, and making an album with those tracks is still another. I would expect an album built from tracks that are themselves built from hundreds of samples culled from stand-alone songs and sounds to be jarringly eclectic and almost unlistenable. (See: Negativland.) Not only is Endtroducing… very listenable, you can also make a case that there’s a consistent theme through out. For my part, I found the album dark and “crunchy,” even the slightly whimsical interludes that are the untitled track six and “Why Hip-Hop Sucks in ’96.” The deceptively simple-sounding “Organ Donor,” with its heavy use of a track featuring an organ, evoked a tripped out vampire in my mind (which might say more about me than it does about the track itself.) “Midnight in a Perfect World” contrasts its bottom heavy bass and drums with an almost ethereal vocal track, which floats over a contrasting and poignant keyboard line. You can hear the fun in the count-off and countdown samples for “The Number Song,” but the underlining sound bed of drums and (can you believe it?) the introduction to Metallica’s “Orion” add something a little more sinister. For my money, though, the track that best typifies Endtroducing… is “Building Steam with a Grain of Sand”:

The Less You Know, The Better

Fifteen years later, we come to The Less You Know, The Better. While it’s a solid album that continues to showcase DJ Shadow’s considerable skill in mixing and creating songs from samples, I can’t find too much about it that stands out. He has invited more guest artists to perform on tracks: Talib Kweli and Pos rap on “Stay the Course” and “Warning Call” features Tom Vek.

“Border Crossing” and the single “I Gotta Rokk” use more obvious metal influences, but I find the songs themselves to be a little forgettable. One obvious misfire, to me, is “Give Me Back the Nights,” a track that starts with a four note bass line and leads into a three-and-a-half minute rant about… I really don’t know what:

Give me back the nights.
Give me back the agony of my solitude.
The nights I’ve spent alone.
The million endless solitary nights of my life.
Give me back all the people I desired but never came…

It goes on, but I’ll stop there. (To be honest, I want to think that it’s a joke. Please, let it be a joke.)

Verdict: Despite the one major miscue and the other solid but mostly forgettable songs, The Less You Know, The Better is a well-crafted album that is worth your time. People will say that it doesn’t measure up to Endtroducing… and I would tend to agree with them. However, I doubt very much that DJ Shadow is trying to reproduce his debut album. Still, Shadow has built his career and considerable following on his debut album, and I consider that first album to be superior to this latest one.Similar Posts:

Back to the Beginning: Wilco’s A.M. vs. The Whole Love

Mighty_Hunter — Fri, 30 Sep 2011 17:00:27 +0000

From the ashes of Uncle Tupelo rose Wilco, an alt-country band that helped define a genre. Though the sledding has been tough for Jeff Tweedy and his band, the band continues to make music, culminating thus far in the album released this week, The Whole Love. Let’s see how it compares to their debut, A.M.

A.M.

While not as much of a commercial and popular success as the ill-fated Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, A.M. holds a special place in my heart. Critics and fans have dubbed the album as an excellent example of “Alt-Country,” and far be it from me to disagree. Wilco’s debut sounds almost like a love note to the good times had while Tweedy was in Uncle Tupelo with Jay Farrar. Seriously, listen to No Depression, and then immediately start listing to A.M. It’s like it’s the same band. (Mainly because it is the same band, just without Jay Farrar, who went on to form Son Volt, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Jeff Tweedy and Company aren’t just playing country western music with less twang and more edge, however. Yes, that’s absolutely present on this album: songs like “Pick Up The Change,” “Passenger Side,” “Blue Eyed Soul,” and “I Must Be High” bear this out.

There are departures, though, even if they are few and far between. “Casino Queen” feels less like one of the Country Outlaws, and more like a stripped-down track by Creedence Clearwater Revival or Lynyrd Skynyrd. “That’s Not The Issue” rips through guitar pickin’ like some of the best bluegrass you’ve heard, and “It’s Just That Simple” rips your heart out and stomps on it like some of the best Hank Williams, Sr. Clearly, Wilco is sticking with what they know, but they’re more complex than they might appear at first.

The Whole Love

Over the course of their career, Wilco experimented more with their alt-country sound and sometimes abandoned it altogether. Their perceived departures earned them the nickname, “The American Radiohead,” and The Whole Love will do little to dispel that perception. Their ninth studio album contains two sprawling epics: the seven minute “Art of Almost,” the first minute of which begins with drum loops and orchestral sweeps, and the twelve minute “One Sunday Morning (Song for Jane Smiley’s Girlfriend).” “Capitol City” sounds like Vampire Weekend sat in with the band. “I Might” could have been a lost The Byrds track. And, at least to me, “Dawned On Me” feels like just straight ahead alternative rock with softened edges.

Verdict: If you like your Alt-Country to emphasize the country, go with A.M. If you want more stress on the Alternative part of the genre, give The Whole Love a try.Similar Posts:

Back to the Beginning: Tori Amos’s Little Earthquakes vs. Night of Hunters

Mighty_Hunter — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 17:00:27 +0000

Tori Amos has been making music for over 19 years, and making me feel old in the process. With 12 studio albums, countless singles, and 8 Grammy awards, she’s positioned herself near the top of the musical heap. Her latest effort, Night of Hunters, supposedly showcases a departure from her usual style. How much? Let’s compare it with her debut, Little Earthquakes, and see what we can find.

Little Earthquakes

I’ll be a little more honest here than usual before I start: it’s very hard to review an artist and album that you discovered as you were trying to discover yourself, as (at least for me) your feelings about that artist and album are tied tightly to your own personal zeitgeist. Though she released the album in 1992, I didn’t discover Little Earthquakes until 1995 in the middle of (what else?) a break-up with my first serious girlfriend, coincidentally also the person who introduced me to Tori (we fans call her by her first name, since we all know her so well). The emotionally powerful lyrics’ rough edges meshed with the near-flawless piano playing to resonate in my soul; I doubt this album would have touched me in the same way if things in my life had been going, well, better.

My own personal life events aside, Tori’s (see?) Little Earthquakes makes for a very powerful debut. Its tracks feel less like songs solely for radio play or comments on life events that may or may not have actually happened, and more like glimpses at the events as they happen. Tori seems to have wrapped so much of herself into this album, her musical style tailored to fit the music’s subject matter. Each song grabs you, shakes you, makes you listen, smacks you in the face with its importance. “Me and a Gun” makes you feel like you’re there with her on that dark street. “Winter” and “Mother” showcase the complex relationship that she had with her parents while talking about very personal aspects of other timely relationships. “Silent All These Years” puts us in a kitchen with her and her boyfriend as they talk and argue and calm down and hash out everything that seems important to them. And “Precious Things”? Well, just listen.

Night of Hunters

And now, 19 years later, she gives us an album that, while touted by some as “[t]he latest addition to Amos’s series of ground-breaking recordings,” supposedly re-imagines classical chamber and orchestral music from some of the world’s greatest composers. What’s more, she enlists the help of well-regarded classically trained musicians and works with the German-based classical music record label Deutsche Grammophon to, I assume, get the purest sound imaginable for her vision:

“I have used the structure of a classical song cycle to tell an ongoing, modern story. The protagonist is a woman who finds herself in the dying embers of a relationship. In the course of one night she goes through an initiation of sorts that leads her to reinvent herself, allowing the listener to follow her on a journey to explore complex musical and emotional subject matter. One of the main themes explored on this album is the hunter and the hunted and how both exist within us.”

Which, you know, fine. She’s a well established artist who hardly needs anyone’s permission to make high-concept albums based on moderately cerebral themes, least of all the permission of a hack music reviewer living in Seattle and writing for a geeky pop culture web site. That said, if she had asked me about this project, I would have probably put on Little Earthquakes, Under the Pink, or, hell, even From the Choirgirl Hotel and said, “Dear, please, do something more like this. Maybe not exactly like this, but, still. Please?”

Obviously, my phone never rang, and so this album got made.

And I just sat at my computer for about five minutes trying to think of the kindest thing I could say about this album. I came up with “derivative.”

To illustrate, here is a track from Night of Hunters, entitled “Edge of the Moon”:

Here is the movement from the piece on which she based the previous track (the second movement of J.S. Bach’s Sonata in E-flat major for flute or recorder and harpsichord):

Tori? Dear? Except for your lyrics and that bridge you added in the middle? These two songs are pretty much identical. You didn’t re-imagine or re-interpret anything. Stop kidding yourself and, further more, stop trying to kid us.

In broader terms, this album feels almost diametrically opposed to her debut album in terms of emotion. Tori seems to make no attempt to hide her feelings on Little Earthquakes; if she’s feeling anything on Night of Hunters, I can’t tell. She plays the songs well and is supported outstandingly by her classical “session musicians,” but… I just don’t feel anything. To be honest, the song above is just a song that I picked at random on the album for illustrative purposes. “Edge of the Moon” doesn’t resonate with me in any way: it isn’t offensive or grand. It’s pedestrian, ordinary, almost cold and distant. Which makes me a more than a little sad.

Verdict: This is probably the memory of my 20-year-old self talking, but I think you should probably stay away from Night of Hunters. Remember Tori as she was, not as she is now.Similar Posts:

Back to the Beginning: Primus’s Frizzle Fry vs. Green Naugahyde

Mighty_Hunter — Fri, 16 Sep 2011 17:00:27 +0000

My 16-year-old self and I rarely agree on much anymore; that guy would eat dog biscuits on a dare, for example, whereas I tend to enjoy food that is at least marketed with human beings in mind. That said, when we do agree, we agree wholeheartedly. One of those things we agree on is the awesomeness of Primus. So, you can probably imagine the many high-fives 16-year-old me and I exchanged when I decided to feature that band on Back to the Beginning this week. Have they changed much since they released Frizzle Fry in 1990? Or has bass guitar virtuoso Les Claypool’s numerous side projects changed Primus’s sound into something else on their newest release, Green Naugahyde?

Frizzle Fry

The power trio’s first studio album is the sonic equivalent of a Tourette’s-afflicted mugger jumping out of a dark alley to attack you with a rubber chicken that has a brick tied to its head. With a sound that’s as complex as that last metaphor is clumsy, Frizzle Fry assaults the listener with music that, honestly, probably confused any critic who first tried to categorize it. Claypool, drummer Tim “Herb” Alexander, and guitarist Larry LaLonde craft amazingly intricate, almost solo, lines for one another, and yet these musical ideas work amazingly well together. This is not just the bassist’s show; Claypool clearly fronts Primus in the ways that count, but the sound comes from every member of the band equally. (Music geeks might try to characterize Primus’s sound as rock music evoking a Baroque esthetic, but, while it might seem that way if you listen hard enough, most folks are just going to say either that the music is hard to listen to or frickin’ awesome.)

Lyrically, Primus desperately wants to tell you something important, but use their manic energy and quirky sound to make it more palatable. Not every song is this way, of course, (I wouldn’t call “John the Fisherman” a desperate call for us all become fishers), but the songs with serious messages get cover from delicious bass hooks that attach themselves to our brains and refuse to let go. “Mr. Knowitall,” for instance, lambastes pretension, and “Too Many Puppies” rails against the military and how they create soldiers.

Green Naugahyde

If you worried that Primus would lose that essential “Primus-ness” that made them great since their last studio album in 1999, you obviously haven’t seen them on one of their many touring stints since then. In fact, you might argue that, on Green Naugahyde, they are more Primus then they have even been, as Jay Lane (the drummer that did most of the underlying work for Frizzle Fry before leaving in 1989) is now back with the band. Lane’s return and musical input, along with Claypool and LaLonde’s continued growth, combine to make a Primus sound that seems both familiar and fresh. Primus still has a lot to say, and the tracks “Jilly’s on Smack,” “Eternal Consumption Engine,” “Eyes of the Squirrel,” and “Moron TV” prove it.

Verdict: In my fairly-biased opinion, you can’t go wrong with Primus’ entire studio catalog. Seriously, why you don’t have all of their albums (if you don’t) is beyond me. However, if I had to pick between Frizzle Fry and Green Naugahyde … oh, who am I kidding? I wouldn’t. Get them both if you don’t have them.Similar Posts:

Back to the Beginning: Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Self-Titled Debut vs. I’m With You

Mighty_Hunter — Fri, 02 Sep 2011 17:00:57 +0000

Back to the Beginning, having taken the month of August off due to a dearth of worthy material, jumps back into the swing of things with Red Hot Chili Peppers’ tenth studio album, I’m With You. Positive reviews surround the album, but let’s take our signature trip back in time to the California-based group’s first album and see how they stack up against one another.

The Red Hot Chili Peppers

Ah, the impetuousness of youth.

At least one internet wag has described the Chili Peppers’ early sound as “sex punk/funk,” and that’s really the most accurate description that I can find. The bouncy bass-lines and funk-inspired rhythms abound, weaving and crashing and generally creating an energetic, frenetic sound that assaults your ears and leaves you almost inexplicably… happy? An odd characterization for some, maybe, but I can’t deny that I found RHCP’s early sound infectious in its energy and abandon. These guys groove on what sounds like good feeling and general merriment for about 30 minutes.

Lyrically, Anthony Kiedis spits out songs that run the gamut between silly and sillier (which might imply a lack of depth in song-writing to someone who hates fun). More rapper than singer at this point, he regales us with punky tales of Flea’s “yang,” the sexual prowess of Antoine the Swan, and exhortations to jump (because jumping is okay in a jumping kinda way). He can get serious, and does on Green Heaven, but songs like this seem to be more of the exception than the rule. He and the band as a whole sound more in their element at this point just being fun-loving punks with songs about police helicopters flying around and riding dragons into the Hollywood Hills. (Of course, l’ll admit that I could be missing the point of “True Men Don’t Kill Coyotes,” and that song is actually a serious treatise against Manifest Destiny and westward expansion set to a funky groove, but… Well, watch the video.)

I’m With You

He's holding a puppy? When did he get all soft and LOOK AT THE CUTE PUPPY

If you only listen to I’m With You and contrast it solely with The Red Hot Chili Peppers, then you’d think they are two completely different bands with the same name. Taken with the entire catalog, though, you’d probably find that this latest offering is the latest in a long transition from fun-loving punks to cynical and sometimes oddly-earnest adults. Clearly, life happened to Kiedis and Flea while they were also busy making music and jumping around.

The album’s first single to date, “The Adventures Of Rain Dance Maggie,” funks and bops and jiggles, but it feels more like a recollection of the way they used to do it. They imply the sexiness, it seems, rather than shout it in our faces.

Musically, the rest of the album rocks with a more straight-ahead feel than most die-hard RHCP purists will probably like. Anyone who’s listened to Californication and Stadium Arcadium knows that this isn’t much of a stretch at this point, though. The pensiveness has been creeping into the lyrics and music ever since “Under the Bridge,” and Kiedis seems to be channeling that earlier song with “Ethiopia” and “Brandon’s Death Song.” Of course, we also get glimpses of fun with “Goodbye, Hooray” and (my favorite song) “Happiness Loves Company,” but that fun is seasoned with a little bit of cynicism.

Verdict: Each album has its merits. If you want more funk and less thought, go with The Red Hot Chili Peppers. If you like straight ahead rock with a chaser of wistfulness, try I’m With You. Both albums serve as bookends for a long and fruitful career for the band, so give both a try.Similar Posts:

Back to the Beginning: They Might Be Giants’ Self-Titled Debut vs. Join Us

Mighty_Hunter — Fri, 22 Jul 2011 17:00:04 +0000

They Might Be Giants

For some reason I find it incredibly hard to review this inexplicably awesome album. I want to write more than just “adverb-ly adjective” (e.g.: “delightfully quirky,” “amusingly creepy,” “inexplicably awesome”), but when I try to come up with something more, um, profound, I run into a metaphorical brick wall. It’s like John Flansburgh and John Linnell opened up my skull, implanted this album, and then ran away laughing into the night. Each song’s catchy tune and almost (but not quite) nonsense lyrics have embedded themselves into my consciousness, despite the fact that I “discovered” this album after repeated listenings of Flood and Lincoln. I just like this album, much like I just liked those other two early albums; I have no rational reason why.

I mean, I could make up a story about how, after a first listening in college in 1993, I instantly fell in love, but that truly isn’t the case. I don’t like admitting this now, but when I first heard this album back then, I found that it was both easy and hard to listen to. I wanted to compare “Absolutely Bill’s Mood” to Napoleon XIV’s “They’re Coming to Take Me Away,” for example, but the former song wasn’t really just quirky for the sake of being quirky. I mean, I guess you COULD listen to it that way if you wanted to, but you’d do so to your detriment. There’s something more to it, something… else that’s hard for me to describe. I had to just let the album wash over me, over and over again. It wasn’t long before “Don’t Let’s Start” and “Everything Right is Wrong Again” had wormed their way into my brain and I was singing them to myself at lunch in the cafeteria, getting strange looks and knowing nods from those around me.

Join Us

More polished sound, same unexplainable popularity? I guess? I still find it hard to explain why I like any They Might Be Giants’ album; there’s just something about them. The quirk, the unassuming manner in which that quirk is presented, almost without gimmick (if that even makes sense). This is a band that writes songs in a serious way about subjects that make little sense. In a way, that’s what separates them from bands like Flight of the Conchords, who seem to be very self-aware of their quirk and play it up. (Full disclosure: I love FotC for similar and yet slightly different reasons. However, those reasons matter little in a review about another band; if/when Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement write and release another album, you’ll hear those reasons.)

Still, it’s safe to say that this latest effort from the Johns is quite possibly their most musical to date. They seem to have matured musically over the past 25 years without losing that essential They Might Be Giants… feeling. “Never Knew Love” could be an instant radio hit if not for the slightly creepy vibe I get from it (unless I’m missing the point). “Judy Is Your Viet Nam” could have been released about 10 albums ago. And “Canajoharie” is, well, just listen.

Verdict: If you’re at all like me, you’ll love both of these albums for reasons unknown or, at least, reasons you’ll have difficulty articulating. Of course, if you’re at all like me, you’ll have all of the albums in between. Hell, you probably submitted a video to them for the song “Can’t Keep Johnny Down.” Too bad they didn’t pick it, but I think you did a great job anyway.Similar Posts:

Back to the Beginning: Yes’s Self-Titled Debut vs. Fly From Here

Mighty_Hunter — Fri, 15 Jul 2011 17:00:40 +0000

Lauded as the fathers of prog rock, Yes’s latest offering, Fly From Here, marks their twenty-first studio album and their first in ten years. The band has been through some major changes since their self-titled album. Are still recognizable as what they once were, or have they charted new directions after their latest break?

Yes

Not all debut albums burst onto the music scene, clamoring for attention and breaking charting records. However, in the short time that I’ve done this weekly column, this is the probably the debut album that interested me the least. They rather amateurishly jazz up The Byrds’ psychedelic “I See You,” adding an unnecessary and inexpertly-done guitar solo in the middle and seemingly forgetting the words to the entire first verse. They also cover The Beatles’ “Every Little Thing” with similar results: an interminably-long introduction that dumps us, after almost two minutes, into the guitar riff to “Day Tripper” for six bars before finally getting into the meat of the cover. Things get better after this, finally. Still, if I had produced this song, I would have probably chopped off the first two minutes and the last one and a half minutes.

The rest of the album, sadly, is pretty forgettable. It will take two years, one more album, and one personnel change before the band finally finds their footing with The Yes Album and their first major single, “I’ve Seen All Good People.”

Fly From Here

Yes’s latest lead singer, Benoît David, originally fronted for the Yes tribute band, “Close to the Edge” (so, you know, at least he knows the major songs in the catalog so he’s not completely lost on tour). This leaves the bassist Chris Squire as the only original member from 1968. (Yes, that’s the right year.) You’d think, then, that, in listening to these two albums back-to-back, there would be a substantial change in sound.

No. No, there isn’t.

The title track comes in six parts and, I think, tells the story of a man who’s lost a lot but willing to keep on trying or something. (I may have stopped paying attention at around the third minute of Part 3.) I seriously think the band broke this track into six parts so that they could trick people into listening to the whole thing.

Musically, this album is… prog rock. Yes has been doing this for forty-some years now, and has the genre down pretty well. No song really stands out, despite the fact that I really, really, REALLY wanted one to, even if it was just BAD.

Verdict: I think you should avoid both of these albums. If you think you like Yes, either get The Yes Album or one of the many Yes box sets available. I recommend Highlights: The Very Best of Yes.Similar Posts:

Back to the Beginning: Brian Eno’s Here Come the Warm Jets vs. Drums Between the Bells

Mighty_Hunter — Fri, 08 Jul 2011 17:00:18 +0000

It’s important to remember that Brian Eno apparently left Roxy Music in 1973 in part because the rock and roll lifestyle bored him. And yet, here we are almost 40 years later, talking about his latest album, his collaboration with poet Rick Holland, the latest wrinkles and creases in his experimental “Art Rock” sound. Have the years been kind? Here’s my opinion.

Here Come the Warm Jets

You can cite similarities if you like between “Needles in the Camel’s Eye” and Roxy Music’s “Do the Strand” from their second album For Your Pleasure. I won’t, since in doing so I’d be cheapening both singles. Eno certainly made him presence known while with Roxy Music, but when he pursued his own vision after the release of For Your Pleasure, he really pursued it. His singles rock in a way that would sound great to the typical rock listener, but his B-sides certainly pushed enough of that envelope for music critics of the day to start calling him an innovator.

The production really comes through in the 2004 remastered version of the album, showing off a complexity to modern listeners that may have been lost at the time. That said, you’d be forgiven if you find the music tame by today’s standards. I will say that this music makes you pay attention to it.

Drums Between the Bells

By contract, Eno’s latest is, frankly, straight-up ambient techno. Short, flip opinion: Others have done it better.

Longer, more-thought-out opinion: Which is not to say that it’s not good. Eno’s music is solid and engaging. When put next to other artists doing similar things, though, it feels derivative and quite tame. A lot of the album feels like a Mixing and Producing an Electro Album intro class at a university with a major music program, or maybe a senior project by a talented but unoriginal student in that program. Again, the music isn’t unpleasant, but in that same way that Muzak isn’t unpleasant. If not for Holland’s poetry, I wouldn’t have paid much attention to it. (To my mind, the poetry detracts quite a bit. I could have done without it, frankly.)

Verdict: It depends on what you’re into, really. I like both of these albums for completely different reasons. I’d put on Drums Between the Bells for a dinner party (on low volume), but probably queue up Here Comes the Warm Jets for moderate activity like jogging or cleaning the apartment.Similar Posts:

Back to the Beginning: Queensryche’s The Warning vs. Dedicated to Chaos

Mighty_Hunter — Fri, 01 Jul 2011 17:00:52 +0000

Bellevue, WA-based progressive metal progenitors Queensryche released a new album this week, and somewhere back in time, my 16-year-old self pumped his fist into the sky. And then probably went back to practicing his trumpet. Geeky bastard.

Does this album warrant your attention? Will the band harken back to the 1990 album Empire and “Silent Lucidity”? Or have they left their best days behind them? Let’s take a look at the album that started their long climb to metal fame, 1984′s The Warning, and compare it to their most current, Dedicated to Chaos.

The Warning

Progressive metal with a side of hair. There doesn’t seem to be a note out of place. Metal aficionados will probably be able to see how this band has influenced the likes of Symphony X and Dream Theater, and while the scope doesn’t seem as grandiose as either of those bands, it doesn’t have to be. This album has a consistent musical voice of driving, technically proficient metal, holding up well against its same year contemporaries in Metallica’s Ride the Lightning and Pantera’s Projects in the Jungle. To me, it’s no wonder this album kick-started their career and arguably helped shape future metal artists for the next three decades.

Dedicated to Chaos

This album seems less like Tool and more like A Perfect Circle. Or, perhaps more accurately, An Imperfect Circle. To illustrate this point, here are the lyrics as I understand them from the first verse of “Hot Spot Junkie,” the second track on this album:

The Wi-Fi Way, I’m addicted to the Wi-Fi Way.
Indispensible satellite tour.
I abuse, I abuse the World Wide Web and all the pictures on YouTube, YouTube.
There’s no escaping it. It’s all out there for the asking.

Yes, people, Geoff Tate wrote a “metal” song about the Interwebs. Way to stay current, Geoff. Perhaps he and Rebecca Black can collaborate on a concept album about summer in the Pacific Northwest.

Musically this album is all over the map. “Get Started” seems less like metal and more like straight-ahead rock (which in itself isn’t bad, but neither is it metal). “Got It Bad” sounds like a song that Maynard James Keenan rejected for a Pusifer album. I skipped over “Wot We Do” when I got to the keyboard-sounding orchestra hit four seconds in. “Drive” reminds me a bit (but not enough) of late-stage David Bowie, and even then only for the first minute. I liked the track ”I Take You” the most off of this album, but that’s a lot like having a favorite root canal.

Verdict: Call me a purist if you like, but if you like your prog metal to actually sound like prog metal, you should definitely go with The Warning. You can safely ignore this latest offering, or, as the poet says, “Hush now. Don’t you cry. Wipe away the teardrop from your eye. You’re lying safe in bed. It was all a bad dream spinning in your head.”
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R-Skid: Three Up, Two Up

Dale Cooper — Thu, 23 Jun 2011 14:00:09 +0000

Ryan Skidmore (a.k.a. R-Skid) Has been a friend of The Bunker since our interview with him this past December. We are always happy when Skiddy makes more music, and he doesn’t disappoint with this summer’s single release, “Three Up, Two Up.” (Listen below)

R-Skid is an artist in West Virginia attending West Virginia University. When asked about this latest release, Skidmore had this to say:

The song just came about one night while we were writing and toying around with some beats. I haven’t been sitting around thinking “ok I want to do a song for West Virginia”, it just kind of happened. This state is in everything that I do, so it’s only fitting that we made this track.

I think this track has the biggest sound of any record that we’ve made thus far, which is perfect for the song’s purpose. My delivery is changed up a bit from what people might expect of me based on past projects, there is no sampling in the record which is uncommon for us, and it’s probably the most intricate set of drum hits of anything we’ve done so far. It’s different for me and that’s good because it needs to be different. It needs to stand out. I envisioned this being a West Virginian’s theme song. My state needs something to ride to and this is it.

R-Skid – Three Up, Two Up

R-Skid is an independent artist whose work is being played regionally throughout West Virginia. He can be contacted via his Facebook page, has a twitter account, or can be contacted directly via email. Our in-depth interview with Ryan Skidmore from December can be found here.Similar Posts: