While it seems about two decades too late to get completely ecstatic over this joining of boy…erm, man-band forces, the idea of the recently reunited New Kids On The Block sharing a track with New Edition, one of their most direct influences (and reigning better of the two), is still too good to not check out at least once.
To both ensembles’ credit, “Full Service”, like previous Kids’ single “Summertime”, manages to be serviceable as a modern pop creation, employing a sturdy dance thump, schizo synth sketches and Auto-Tune effects that cleverly shield the fact that these are all middle-aged cats. If they were actual “new”-comers singing cheesy double entendres about “filling up” lonely beauties with their “premium” fuel, it could possibly be embraced as a modest hit for some C-level teen pop sensation. But we’re all too aware that these are not young bucks offering an introductory tune, so the entire thing comes across a little icky and the fact that they play it so seriously doesn’t help matters.
While it’ll definitely warrant a smirk or two (and maybe even a a couple toe taps), listening to it will only revert you back to the flurry of thoughts and questions that entered your brain when word first got out that the not-so-New Kids were taking a stroll back down the Block: Ummm….Why?…Who thought this would be a good idea?…Well this could be interesting…What if they have beer guts and comb-overs?…I thought that one guy was, like, having severe panic attacks or something and would never perform on-stage again?…Does that mean Marky Mark is coming back too?…THE CARTOON!!…Remember that one cool song Jordan Knight had about ten years ago?…Who exactly is their audience now?…Again…why?
Whether a blogger posting a great review for a new indie band or just a regular joe (or jane) hyping some great local act they just saw in concert to friends, we’ve all at one point or another urged someone else to check out some great up-and-coming artist we’ve come to like.
The Next Big Sound helps any one realize their own personal record label A&R fantasies, giving the public the chance to own their own company and “sign” a variety of different artists based on the many demos they post on the site. You not only get the chance to hear some great under-the-radar talents (like Color Radio, Santa or Medium Troy) but you also earn points for each act you bring on to your roster, and for every other “label” that jumps on the same bandwagon thereafter. (Peep some of the entertaining folk signed to Mixtape Maestro’s “Maestro Records” roster.)
If you enjoy being the go-to person your circle of buddies turn to when wanting to learn about some new music or love being the one “true” fan who celebrated a certain artist long before they hit it big, The Next Big Sound will probably be for you. Head over to the site, sign-up and get your Clive Davis/ Diddy on. It’s quite fun.
It’s kind of hard being Gym Class Heroes. They’re continually given little respect either because a) they’re so closely associated with the uber-maligned Pete Wentz; b) they’re odd emo/ alt-pop-rap style puts them in a niche where hip hop heads will never take them seriously despite their more urban-friendly recent output and c) a lot of people will never get over the fact that a Supertramp sample served the base of their biggest hit. So with this constant lack of props steeped in the pettiest of reasons, it’s understandable why Travis would be so bitter. The frontman gets on the defensive on latest leak, “Don’t Tell Me It’s Over”, which simultaneously gives a thank-you and “peace sign/ index down” to haters of the real world and ‘Net universe.
“What better way to compensate/ Than to hate on everything you wish you were but didn’t have the balls to harness,” he raps to Cool & Dre’s rousing rock/ rap recipe of dizzying drums, electric guitar accents and doomsday piano loops, while later directing his ire towards bloggers and their typical criticism of him (“Tell ‘em I can’t rap/ Tell ‘em I dumb it down”). As the hook epically proclaims, though, the negativity is welcomed, if only because it helps in boosting their ego: “It keeps me believing that we’re the greatest of all time”.
Even if the chorus is a bit of an overstatement, Travis & Co. (including a squiggly voiced, half-singing Weezy in yet another pointless charity cameo) still pull their message off well: You can dislike us all you want, but we’re gonna be around for as long as we fancy regardless. GCH: 1, Haters: 0.
TI. Kanye West. Jay Z. Lil’ Wayne. Together on the same track!!??!! Atop a M.I.A. “Paper Planes” sample!!??!! We know we’re a bit late on this, but it still seems just too damn good to be true. Alas this box office blockbuster of 2008′s hip hop hierarchs is real, and to bite a bit off the voice modified words of Kanye: “It’s the shit and the urine”.
Of course, if you want be nit-picky, you can moan over West and Weezy’s waaaaay past tiresome T-Pain-isms, how annoying the MIA loop gets after awhile, or the fact that until TI pops up for his rightfully track-owning final verse, the rhymes previously dropped feel a little anemic. But come on, don’t act like hearing this pow-wow of adored tastemakers doesn’t give you a knot in your jeans; and we’re not talking about the kinds of “knots” that “jockin’ jockin’” Jay Z is referring to either.
England’s Neon Hitch reminds us of why we fell in love with Nelly Furtado in the first place. Before we had M.I.A., Furtado engaged masses of listeners with her whimsical lyrical soundbites and colorful world pop-meets-folk-meets-hip hop musical framings. Than she started spending a little too much time with Timbaland and some of that fumblesome quirk was lost.
On Neon’s supremely catchy “My Book”, she rhyme-sings great little nuggets like “They say ‘Don’t be mean’/ They say ‘Don’t be mad’/ I say ‘Go to Hell’/ I don’t take it back” through distorted drones and ragga-loping guitar flickers, turning what sounds like folks just messing around in the studio into this by-accident bubbly triumph. A promising introduction that supplies heavy doses of unabashed sass (“You say I’m a bitch/ Like it’s somethin’ bad”) and delightfully messy song-craft, “My Book” shrewdly pre-positions her as the kind of self-aware anti-pop pop tart that makes hipsters and bloggers all tickly with delight these days. Our only request for this sure-to-be-overhyped-real-soon newcomer? That she steer away from Timbaland…at least for a couple more albums.
So how can Robin Thicke make his ’70′s-soul-replicating summer extravaganza “Magic” more…erm, magical? How about throw the Queen of Hip Hop-Soul herself in on the mix.
Having Blige tear into the song’s lush groove feels oh-so-right, while hearing her signature ached vocals side-by-side with Thicke’s creamy tenor, offers a hint as to what a duet between Marvin and Aretha over a Gamble & Huff production might have sounded like. A stellar collaboration.
A rapper bragging of their big toy purchases and endless-limit credit cards is so prevalent in the hip hop genre that even the most incredible boasts result in minimal ho-hum reactions. So it’s a breath of fresh air when Canadian emcee Shad spends all of single “The Old Prince Still Lives At Home” relating the joys of being a scrub.
Shad still shacks with his parents, doesn’t have a car or job and treats his girl with yearly trips to McDonald’s. Yet is he ashamed? Hell no. “I just retired real young y’all/ Call me Jay Z,” he beams proudly. So with that humorously pathetic stance, he spends his days finding new ways to hold onto the pennies, or in his case, pesos, he does have; this includes dismissing dental plans (“I can brush my teeth all on my own/ So you ain’t gon hustle me!”), re-using the same razor blades (“It’s all my own hair I shave/ Chin, back, face, legs/ And the rashes rarely last more than eight days”) and “downloading new songs” for free (Hmmm…), while all the while he cooks up lawsuit scams in hopes he’ll hit the settlement jackpot.
He’s so cheap, that three-quarters of the way through, the cartoon-funk loop he’s rhyming over suddenly drops out. “I couldn’t afford the whole beat,” he explains, before urging a friend to simply clap his hands and “kinda just vibe with it” so he can finish the song.
We like him, and the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air-inspired music video that accompanies this tune (fitting, since this sounds like an early Prince & Jazzy Jeff tune anyway) only furthers that adoration.
A thumping disco backbone, spacey electro atmospherics and phantom vocals presenting a lyric about lost love and a precious Walkman all clash together wonderfully on “Lil’ Radio”, one of twelve mind-twistingly sculptured creations from The Myth In Which We Live, the debut full length release from Pennsylvania experimental-pop-sters Ennui.
“I hear the song you like/ On my radio,” moans the song’s forlorn protagonist, as he bops down the street, increasing the volume to “when it suits me right”. His brain flooded with the prized memories of an old romance every time he hears the particular ditty, he re-plays the tune over and over, unconcerned by wearing out the cassette even if it provides his sole connection to the ex-lover (“If the tape stops working/ Oh it’s alright”).
Yeah, “Lil’ Radio”‘s scenario is a bit of a downer, but the tune’s blissed-out throb projects a summer chill feel that’ll have you, like “Radio”‘s main character, cuddling your music maker.
To hear more from Ennui or purchase Myth, head over to their MySpace or CD Baby.
With loud, energizing stompers as irresistibly fun as The Subways‘, it’s understandable that the idea of the English trio quieting down a couple notches and getting all tender wouldn’t be as interesting. But mixed in with all the fuzzy, Nirvana-studied ear-assaults that deliciously dominate the band’s latest album, All Or Nothing, some note-worthy ballads do emerge, assuring that The Subways’ eventual career retrospective of highlights won’t appear so one-note.
“Strawberry Blonde” is perhaps the album’s finest slower moment; ushered in with a delicate breeze of softhearted guitar strums and piano chords, singer Billy Lunn takes a break from the yelps and howls to gently spill romancing utterances like “You’re the matador and I’m the bull/ You’re the brass keyhole I fit into”. He’s found his ideal soulmate, the one who “stroke by stroke” fills his “empty soul with color”; now all he needs to do is get her to reciprocate his love.
That’s when the song bursts to life, transitioning to a slightly volume-raising chugger of a chorus that paints the atmosphere with a luminous vibrancy, the perfect counterbalance to the gloomy, melancholic verses. “Tell me you sing your song for my lonely heart,” he belts in harmony with the pixie-like warbling of ex-girlfriend/ bassist Charlotte Cooper. The combination of their married vocal with the hook’s hopeful musical and lyrical glow provides this wonderful pop moment that just melts the soul.
Whether it’s proving to execs that more success could be reached by transitioning into a more naturally-fitting pop/ rock/ soul hybrid sound or achieving a commercial resurgence with an album deemed a flop a year prior, Pink always seems to have the last laugh. On new single “So What”, she aims to do it all over again, though instead of a focus on her career, the song finds her attempting to be triumphant following a separation from husband Carey Hart.
Opening with bratty “Na na na”‘s and taunting rock guitar licks, Pink begins her break-up celebration: “I guess I just lost my husband/ I don’t know where he went/ So I’m gonna drink my money/ I’m not gonna pay his rent (Nope)”. Shedding tears isn’t her type of thing, so the singer opts on alleviating all the pain by wrecking some public havoc. “I wanna start a fight,” she snarls gleefully.
But even if playing up the “rock star” role sounds as fun as it does on producer Max Martin’s signature thick and thrashing pop hook, “So What” is made more incredible by the things it doesn’t overtly say. “I’m gonna show you tonight/ I’m alright, I’m just fine/ And you’re a tool”, she declares, but her accompanying ad-libs feel soaked with the stinging heartache she’s struggling to keep bottled up. She may project the attitude of one who doesn’t care about being alone again on the track’s brash-but-shiny surface, but in between the lines, a different story yearns to come out. Looks like someone needs a session with Dr. Phil.
From the upcoming album, Funhouse (scheduled for an October release).
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.
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(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!)
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