The fact that Foo Fighters tend to work within the same modern rock framework on each set hasn’t been lost on anyone and it’s hard to complain since most of their output is well-polished and likable, even when it leans a bit into being pedestrian. Many fans balked when they began taking a liking towards the sensitive and acoustic on recent projects, but this deviation from the norm gave Dave Grohl a chance to creatively stretch out and be a bit more ambitious. When you know you’ve got an artist like Prince paying attention to your work, wouldn’t you want to show off some different colors in your craft too?
“Summer’s End” doesn’t only stand out from most of the Foos’ Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace because it dabbles amidst the quieter end of the volume spectrum, but it’s an obvious highlight because it finds an alternate path that reaches the same favorable ending results.
In between drum stomps and thunderous guitar stabs lies a Southern rock twang that builds a tender warmth alongside a sunny chorus and precious lyrical images of “bloody lips and cherry wine/ moonshine in your hair”. The song effectively blends the loud/ soft dichotomy previously split up on the band’s In Your Honor: the way the massive guitar solo brings things to an explosive peak without losing sight of the track’s rustic underlining or Grohl’s Cornell-lite delivery teasing with a break-out in full blown furor only to settle within the hook’s sweetened harmonies.
Documenting a band tip-toeing outside their own lines without losing their familiarity, “Summer’s End” can still be accused of playing it safe, but it captures well a peaceful middle ground within Grohl’s emerging inner conflict to keep longtime fans satisfied while following his own experimental urges.
Songs About Girls’horrid first single only re-affirmed what’s so frustrating about Will.i.Am. Why would one man with such eclectic musical tastes be so persistent on releasing watered down dance-pop songs about asses? Thankfully, Girls manages to be about so much more, especially when Will cuts the juvenile fascination with “donques” and “lady lumps” and gets serious, like these two outstanding pleas for forgiveness.
On “One More Chance”, which coasts on a soothing wave of tropical rhythms with brief detours into indie rock acoustics, Will is all about trying to “undo what I’ve done before” to win his lover’s heart back. As typical with him, Will illustrates his couples’ drama with lighthearted prose (“We be goin’ back and forth like volleyball/ Battling eachother like Gallactica/ Girl I love to be spectacular/ But we crash like vehicular”), but the deliriously layered chorus doesn’t find much humor in being on the verge of a break-up. There’s a sense of pained desperation found in the half-sung portions here, almost like he’s pushing his chops as far as they can go to fully express that he really is serious when it comes down to setting their union back on the right path.
He’s on the same angle on “Heartbreaker”, where he flings out apologies for not being the ideal boyfriend to an appealing electro-pop soundtrack. Taking on full blame, Will is completely embarrassed by his actions (“Just how did I become that kind of guy/ To look at girls and lie right in their eye?”), hoping she’ll excuse his jerk routine and give him another shot. With an anchor in bright hooks, galloping drum beats, funky guitar snippets and new wave-y synth washes, the track sounds like something Jamiroquai would fancy.
These two treats project a worldly music geek who might not be the best rapper or singer, but has a solid enough vision to become a successful master of popcraft away from the Black Eyed Peas. Unfortunately, he’d rather continue to market himself with obnoxious single choices. Give the public some credit, Will. We can handle meaningful material (especially when supported by his top-notch production chops) and Songs About Girls bears too much greatness within it’s impressive tracklist to be downplayed for a lame-brained cut about sexy genes.
Peep this performance of “One More Chance” from “Jimmy Kimmel”:
After venturing too far into the adult R&B lane with 1999′s mature Mary, she proved she was no old fogey with the Dre-helmed club banger “Family Affair”. But then came her tepid post-No More Drama reunion with P Diddy (2003′s Love & Life) and she just as quickly lost her momentum as the once potent chemistry between her and the producer was no longer felt. 2005′s The Breakthrough brought her to new heights both musically and commercially, mostly due to the “We Belong Together”-rewrite “Be Without You”, a universal love theme that showcased a stronger voice (she had finally put those off-pitch yowls to rest) and became the biggest hit of her career. But the blatant copycat version that followed, the greatest hits album lead-off “We Ride (I See The Future)”, just wasn’t cutting it. So as goes the pattern, just as you’ve begun to fear Mary J is past her prime, she comes back with a stunner that makes you feel guity for ever doubting her.
“Just Fine”, the first taste of her eighth studio album Growing Pains, has the Queen enjoying herself like never before. Led off by a playful “Don’t Sop Til You Get Enough”-like intro (“This joint right here/ It makes me wanna….OOOOHH!”) and nervy synth funk bite, the song finds Mary un-budged from the positive outlook on life she’s carried since letting go of all the hateration. “No time for moping around/ Are you kidding?/ And no time for negative vibes/ Cause I’m winning”, she sings, her voice gleaming with a contagious feel-good performance.
Back in the day, Mary J was always willing to share her pain with the rest of the female population, so it’s mighty admirable that she would take the responsibility to lead those same listeners out of their self-imposed rut, stressing the importance of finding a new lease on life. Her self-confidence has skyrocketed (“I like what I see when I’m looking at me/ When I’m walking past the mirror”) and even when darkness threatens to take away from her sunshine, she refuses to let it get her down (“I’m-a still wear my smile when it’s raining”).
Even more likable is that Blige doesn’t allow her rose-tinted grown woman stride to siphon away her youthful spunk. She still keeps her beats hip hop-friendly, but the track’s homage to the slick live instrument-based R&B of the 1980′s that she grew up off (especially when the regal horns come into play on the bridge) truly gives “Just Fine” it’s winning charm. Marking the latest peak of an up-and-down catalogue path, this inspiring joint plants the treasured diva firmly in fine form again.
Even before it’s official release as a single, FutureSex/ LoveSound‘s silky lament to languishing in eachother’s naked embrace while the rest of world goes to Hell in a handbasket had long ago been embraced as a certifiable classic. Now that it’s lodged a place in the R&B Top Ten (even without the assist of a video to support it), Justin has opted on giving it some new flavor, injecting Beyonce into the proceedings to make it even more of a landmark moment.
The reigning King and Queen of Pop/ R&B share an expected steamy chemistry here, his creamy falsetto and her glossy diva belts well-matched against the song’s plush string bed, perfectly-incorporated Linn drums and plinky Timbaland sonics. Juxtaposed against Timberlake’s fairly linear vocal, Beyonce, whose never met a note she couldn’t beat to death, throws in a much broader spectrum of colors that tactfully remain well-lodged within the song’s gentle pulse. When the call-and-response bridge comes into play this time around, it transcends it’s obvious placeholder setting in the original, finding a much more meaningful strength in the male-female interchange.
One of the more natural-sounding team-ups in a year that’s seen collaborations galore, this throwback-leaning duet offers a nice deviation from the obtrusive beats and gimmicky hooks our ears have been bombarded with in these modern times. A divine study of class personified.
Looking to the US charts to find the perfect duet partner to spark her Stateside audience’s interest, Natasha’s decision to go with Sean Kingston is a bit questionable. Yeah, he had one of the biggest jams of the summer, but when she’s old and gray and looking back at her catalogue, will she be proud or embarrassed that she at one point graced the same record as Mr. Kingston?
An extension of Kingston’s favorite past-time (reminiscing over the greatest loves of his life), “Love Like This” finds Natasha stuck on a guy she’s known since they were kids. The people around them might not understand their union (“My friends they always told me/ Not to make you my wifey,” Sean sings in that distinctive tenor of his), but with their paths continually crossing and other partners unable to compare, Natasha is ready to stop fighting fate.
Since the song isn’t all that much of a stand-out on it’s own, it’s pretty R&B backdrop and Bedingfield’s soulful Brit-soul phrasings pleasing if a bit routine, Natasha should be thankful she nabbed Sean Kingston, his fitting accents adding some much needed sparkle to “Love Like This”. But it would have been much impressive for her to get him to guest on her loony UK single, “I Wanna Have Your Babies”. Hearing him try to protect his precious sperm from her maniacal advances could’ve provided something a lot more memorable.
The rap world instantly grew anxious with anticipation last week when Jay Z made the sudden announcement of a new concept album inspired by the upcoming Denzel Washington flick American Gangster, and within days unleashed a taste of the project with the Pharrell-produced “Blue Magic”. Could the man who made the hip hop senior citizen fashionable on last year’s mildly received Kingdom Come, be able to convincingly rep for the trap as he successfully did on his classic Reasonable Doubt, they wondered?
Though his newly reserved delivery remains intact, “Blue Magic” finds the Greatest (Living) Of All Time showing signs of a welcome return to his Blueprint/ Black Album-era sense of focus. A throwback tribute to rap’s better days (“This ’87 state of mind that I’m in/ In my prime/ For that time I’m Rakim/ If it wasn’t for the crimes that I was in”) and his sharp, street hustler mindset, “Blue Magic” gives us the Jay we were hoping for on last year’s much heralded un-retirement disc.
A minimalist array of synths and drums provide a fitting stark setting for Jay to relive his pre-mic days as a multi-platinum trap star, infusing B-boy metaphors to explain his hood celebrity (“I don’t write on walls/ I write my names in the history books/ Hustling in the hall/ Nah I don’t spin on my head/ I spin work in the pots so I can spend my bread”). He somersaults through paced internal rhyme patterns and slings out history book references that defend his career choice (“Blame Reagan for making me into a monster/ Blame Oliver North and Iran-Contra/ I ran contraband that they sponsored/ Before this rhyming stuff we was in concert”), his crisp stream-of-consciousness flow only interrupted by Pharrell’s shrill reprisal of a classic En Vogue hook.
After a spotty “comeback” album and rambling cameos that caused worry that old age and trips to St. Tropez had siphoned away too much of his fire, Jay proves he’s still got it with this Clipse-y trip down memory lane. Now what the hell were we waiting for? Our old Jay back in fighting form.
For a raucous band that have embedded, amongst other things, urination, barfing and nudity within their stage show, it’s clear that the Atlanta four-piece Black Keys have no qualms about embracing the filth-rock aesthetic. But more often than not, bands that rely on such attention-grabbing stunts are only doing so to cover up for their lack of musicianship and are usually relegated to spend their entire life as a briefly interesting local sensation with only a few longtime loyal followers. Thankfully the dudes in Black Lips have impressive chops, stealing bite-sized nuggets of popular sounds from before their birth and meshing them up in perfectly messy two-to-three minute morsels. On their newest release, Good Bad Not Evil, the Lips have finally delivered a studio effort to showcase their likable musicality, something that had been frustratingly hidden behind the drunken gimmickry of their live set.
If the group were a television show, then album highlight “Bad Kids” would serve as the theme song. A singalong anthem for juvenile delinquents everywhere, the chorus happily trots out support for the Black Lips rambunctious brethren (“Bad kids/ Probably got no daddies/…Ain’t no college grad kids/ Livin’ out on the skids/ Kids like you and me”). Self-deprecation emerges from the lyrics gleeful listing of their sects’ youthful debauchery (getting drunk off of grandma’s stash, drawing penises on the bathroom walls, bringing home straight F’s on report cards) and the song’s spot-on spin of ’50′s honky-tonk and doo-wop vocal interplay, revealing popcraft smarts that position them in a less gimmicky light.
A winning combination of tongue-in-cheek social analysis and retro air, “Bad Kids” solidifies a note-worthy bullet point for the Black Lips within their evolution into the beloved studio act they show promise to be. Should they do away with the disturbing stage antics the media has so far chewed up? Not necessarily, since such shock-and-awe spontaneity adds a favorable distinction to them. But, now they’ve proven that they have the backing talent to potentially enter the rock history books as more than just a piss-and-barf-reliant State-side side note.
How amusing is it that The-Dream’s simple “ooohs”, “eys” and “ellas” carry much more satisfaction than three-quarters of the needless, vocal theatrics of his male and female R&B peers? He doesn’t even sound like a real live person at times, yet I’ll take his charming ticks over a wavery ad-lib any day.
On this solid follow-up to “Shorty Is A Ten/ The Shit”, the newcomer uses his unique singing approach to make fun of the orgasmic sounds his lady makes when he’s serving her some passion. “Now I got her talkin’ like this/ In a falsetto”, he says before hitting some high notes sure to have everyone offering their own interpretation through the winter. The-Dream doesn’t just rely on this strong hook gimmick though, delivering a steamy-hot metaphor-filled lyric and production that conjures up the most sultriest R. Kelly slow jam ever, edged with a blazing rock guitar bit and a little nod to his own distinctive songwriting input from “Umbrella” towards the end.
Damn, “Shorty” hasn’t even reached it’s full potential yet and Dream already has a back-up banger in place. R&B, welcome your newest sensation.
On this oh-so-precocious collaboration (like they could deliver anything else), the most non-threatening duo in the music biz offer their own spin on the “Birds and Bees”. Set up as a 50′s styled duet, Bee Lee plays the John Travolta to Mandy Moore’s Olivia Newton-John, the two giving eachother Eskimo kisses over a twangy guitar swing.
In discussing everyone’s need to get some as pure human nature (“We want what we want/ And it’s natural baby,” the cheeky chorus states), the song does get a little weird in it’s second verse, with Ben doing his best to put his ding-dong in Mandy’s hoo-ha. “It’s not a secret/ It’s not a crime,” he assures her about her nasty inner desires. His mack game hits a bump when he blatantly lies about it being his first time, but despite that misstep, she’s all game for a little of his loving, shushing him before he digs a deeper hole of embarrassment with a kiss.
It’s the most silliest vanilla take on horniness ever put to tape, sweet enough to give any listener ear diabetes, but the skank phase of Mandy Moore’s career is long overdue. Let’s thank Ben for finally unleashing her inner freak.
It’s sad how the announcement of a new Ja Rule album holds very little interest these days. It wasn’t too long ago that the man was a major presence on radio, flooding the airwaves with a string of interchangeable girly rap tunes featuring assisted by a revolving door of R&B females (Jennifer Lopez, Christina Milian, Ashanti). Then rival 50 Cent came along and rallied everyone into realizing how much they really hated Ja Rule, putting an instant death knell on the Murder Inc. star’s career. With Fiddy no longer as impenetrable as he used to be, can this newly buffed homophobic ranter work his way back into public favor?
Preceding street single “Uh Oh” proved that not everything Weezy touches goes gold, so Ja backtracks a bit with new joint “Body”, a continuation of the toothless, radio-leaning material he built multi-platinum success off of a while back. The song carries little weight, but it does show Ja hasn’t lost his ability to pen tunes that ladies could appreciate. As curly sinewaves subtly weave between heavy keyboard stabs, Ja once again divulges in female-catering banter with a girl singer sighing in approval of anything he says (newcomer Ashley Joi taking over the submissive Ashanti role). If this was 2002, this would surely be another smash. With few caring much about what he does these days though, it’s not quite clear if something as mildly likable as “Body” is the best choice to stage a comeback with.
As nice as it is to get free music, think of how much better your soul would feel if you purchased it the old-fashioned way.
*
Come on, use Amazon or iTunes and help support your favorite artists so they can continue to give us the great sounds we love.
*
(MP3 posts are for promotional and/ or previewing purposes only; if any artist or their representation wish to have the links removed, contact me and I will happily comply!)
Recent Comments