I have feelings about Muse, but let’s talk about this particular song I’m listening to right now: “Big Freeze” off The 2nd Law. In general, I would overgeneralize Muse’s music as “future-prog”. But this song has a) the typical fuzz bass Muse uses, b) nearly chicken grease guitar chords, and c) a distinct U2 vibe. I’m not sure these things all go together. If’d been the producer on this track, I’d have tried to convince them that chicken grease chords are cool as heck, but they don’t belong on any of Muse’s album tracks.
Prince or Quincy Jones were often running multiple performers and groups, serving as sort of the well from which their respective musical ideas came from
Tom Petty isn’t particularly gifted technically and doesn’t write ground-breaking songs but is very, very good at working within a specific form and genre, one of the best in that space
Jimmy Page is not musically the best or most innovative, but very adept at the style he created for himself, is technically a good guitarist
Pete Townsend holds a group together, is the glue that leads a group of virtuosos, somehow the master creator and craftsperson who runs the group with a solid hand without making it all about him
Brian Wilson plays a whole ensemble, a studio as an instrument, micromanaging every detail to produce a sublime musical whole; Bruce Springsteen is close to this
Bob Dylan or Leonard Cohen are excellent wordsmiths who get great results when the music around them is also pretty good
Annie Clark is a guitar-shred-meister who runs with the avant-alt mantle set forth by The Talking Heads
Merrill Garbus builds amazing lo-fi layered music of incredible stylistic range that sounds right at home on the festival circuit
The connection amongst these individuals is more than playing their instruments or writing their songs. They’re working a level above that, whether it’s Tom Petty and Jimmy Page making fine-tuned rock or J-Dilla, Prince, and Merrill Garbus micromanaging a subgenre into existence. I’m a little envious of that level of musical acumen.
Songs in the Key of Life tries to reconcile the reality of the post-Nixon era — the pain that even though the enemy is gone, the work is not done and the world has not been transformed — with an inclusive hope that it one day will be, and that faith, hope, and love are still possible.
It’s what makes the album such a magnificent achievement. But I’m not there. I don’t know when I will be. So for now I’m keeping Songs In the Key of Life on the shelf. An unopened bottle of champagne for a day I may never see. But I’d like to.
On three of Stevie Wonder’s best albums, his political writing, and how he bridges saying something and making a good song.
I cannot wait to listen to Songs in the Key of Life again.
It seems like some folks don’t like music with a lot of studio work. Overproduced, they call it. Maybe this is a relic of the days when producers weren’t a creative force on par with the actual performers and artists.
I don’t know, because I love overproduced music. Phil Spector, “Wall of Sound”? Bring it. Large band efforts like “Sir Duke”, “You’re not from Texas”, or “Good Vibrations”? Love it. Super-filtered drum sound? Gotta have it.
It probably has everything to do with, at one point, wanting to pursue a career as a double bassist in symphony orchestras. The pieces I loved the most were the big Romantic tone poems and symphonies with a chorus. Hundreds of people, dozens of unique parks, all playing at the same time, often loudly. It’s the essence of overproduced.
Here’s a curious thing. When I hear “Wouldn’t it be nice?” in my head, it’s much bigger and Wagnerian than it is on Pet Sounds. The pedal tone is bigger and more prominent, the first note after the guitar intro is massive. Maybe I’m just projecting my interpretation onto the song.
Contrast to “Good Vibrations”. There’s always more going on than I remember. Vocal parts, instruments. Sooooo good.
There’s a thing going on in music with all the vapors and chills and waves. I’m not entirely sure what it is, yet. Even after reading this excellent survey of the various vaporwave subgenres, I’m still not sure what it is. But it’s very synth-y, a little sample-y, and very much what you’d expect to hear in a hip, contemporary hotel lobby.
Passing thoughts on the discography of The Clash that is not London Calling:
Brian and I had a conversation that randomly veered onto the Clash which prompted to me to listen to all of their studio albums
I have listened to London Calling a few times before, and recall some story about its producer encouraging them to go broader with the album so as to reach a wider audience; basically that it’s not much like their other albums
I enjoy London Calling, but I’m not sure what to expect from a categorical English punk band
In the majority of music you’ll hear after 1960, the drummer does most of the time keeping with their snare. On 100% of Bruce Springsteen songs, time is kept entirely with the snare. I listen to a lot of The Boss; it’s a little surprising when I don’t here a consistent 1/3 or 2/4 snare keeping time.
That makes the drumming on most jazz albums pretty delightful. For example, Cannonball Adderley, “Games” (Roy McCurdy on drums):