"Cooler than Ice Cream & Warmer than the Sun": "Touch" by Eurythmics (RS500)

RS 500: #500
Artist: Eurythmics
Album: Touch
Released: November 26, 1983


I could be going out on a limb here, but I think anyone who claims the 1980's were a horrible decade for music has clearly never listened to Eurythmics' Touch. The record is worthy of a listen (not to mention inclusion on the RS 500) simply for the voice of Annie Lennox alone. Beautiful, dynamic, unique, and so damn soulful, to not know or not include such a voice is a sin. Truly. Take for instance, "No Fear, No Hate, No Pain (No Broken Hearts)" in which she sounds so powerful that it makes the listener feel powerful, too.

The great thing about Touch is that the music created by Miss Lennox and Dave Stewart is just as varied and soulful, a perfect compliment to and vehicle for her voice. Sometimes it's laid back with a bass bobbing like water ("Aqua"). Others, it's a slightly sinister jazz-meets-techno groove ("Regrets"). It's kind of laid back, yet still danceable ("Cool Blue"). And then there's a song like "The First Cut", which gets into your guts almost and makes you want to get up and dance. The music of the track (the bass especially) connects that primal thing that makes you want to move and you can't really explain why. Similarly, the tropical and wonderfully upbeat, "Right By Your Side", just makes you feel good and want to move your hips. Though it's the type of song that I suspect if it were done by anyone lacking the soulful voice of Annie Lennox that it would be called fluff, but she delivers it with sincerity and makes it joyful and heartfelt.

On the other side of the spectrum is the gothic "Who's That Girl". While the mix of synths, bass, and strings is utterly gorgeous, it is the vocals and lyrics that take center stage. Whether it's the forceful and demanding, "but there's just one thing" or vulnerability in the titular question, they all come together beautifully to show the heartbreak and frustration of the person left "broken on the rocks." The track as well as the opener, "Here Comes the Rain Again", shows that the real heart of the album is emotions contained in the lyrics. "Here Comes the Rain Again" sets the stage wonderfully with its mix of shoo-wop background vocals and techno beats, as well as lyrical references to rain/water, which is frequently used throughout the record. In this instance, it seems as if the rain is there to symbolize depression or loneliness, something the narrator has felt before, but each time it feels fresh and new. And asking, whether it is just the audience or someone specific, if anyone feels the same with the line, "Is it raining with you?"

I confess, for me the only downside to the entire album is the final track, "Paint a Rumour". The song is almost a sound collage, like The Beatles' "Revolution #9" except less chaotic. Plus, the point and purpose of this song is much clearer. It, like "The Final Cut" earlier in the album, is about reputations. In "The Final Cut" there is a line, "Each impression, makes a chain reaction... Will never be, never be, never be broken," possibly showing how your reputation can proceed you and that it will never die until you do. "Paint a Rumour" is about how secrets and rumors (true or not) can spread and do damage, such as in the line, "I heard a whisper - make it go away"; as well as cause embarrassment and anger when told, "See the place go red."

Regardless of my feeling that the final track is a tad too long, Eurythmics' Touch as a whole is a great and solid record. It's eclectic and has possibly some of the best, most intelligent and soulful dance music of the 1980s, if not, the last thirty years or more. Not simply for Annie Lennox' amazing voice or the fact that she and Dave Stewart could groove, but because of the heart and real tangible emotion behind it all; that makes you feel and move not just in your body, but your heart.

In and Out of Style, But Guaranteed to Raise a Smile: "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" by The Beatles (RS500)

RS 500: #1
Artist: The Beatles
Album: Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
Released: June 2, 1967 (U.S.)

(Quick Author's Note: I apologize for the length of this post. However, with it being number one on the list, I felt the album needed a lot of detail and attention. Future reviews probably, hopefully. won't be this long.)
Since its release, The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band has suffered a strange fate. Similar to the band that made it, it proves that old saying "familiarity breeds contempt." For each person that praises it, there are even more people who claim it to be overrated. And when one lacks its historical context or the historical perspective of the time that produced and, therefore, heavily praised it, only seeing people constantly heaping praise upon what many consider nowhere close to the Beatles' best work, it's easy to see how such a feeling can breed.

Sgt. Pepper came at a time when most people had a very limited view of what rock'n'roll could do as well as what it was allowed to do. While there were exceptions to this, (most notably Brian Wilson, who knew just how out of step with the mainstream he was given songs like, "I Just Wasn't Made For These Times") the general idea basically boiled down to that rock couldn't be art. To suggest such a thing would be almost lunacy.

Then Sgt. Pepper came along and with that, killing the idea at the time that the Beatles had dried up, killing the idea that rock music couldn't be art, pushing the limits of what could be done technically at the time, and giving life to including lyrics in liner notes and idea of the concept album. The "concept" basically being the Beatles are playing a concert as Sgt. Pepper's band. Now, whether one believes the album strictly holds to the concept the entire way through or not is irrelevant, really, given the fact that it's impossible to tell when they are singing as themselves or some character concocted in Paul McCartney's imagination. However, from the audience noises to the rise and fall in the moods of the songs to the build up of the closing three tracks, the concert aspect of the concept works and completely fits. Just as every single track on the album fits together and flows into each other, despite how radically different from each other many of the songs are.

The opening title track is a "good old rocker" (to borrow a phrase from producer George Martin) and sets the stage fantastically for the concert the album is meant to be. The opening riff is instantly recognizable (and for me, will always bring to mind visions of the Beatles saving Pepperland), the drums are great backbone for the track as is the bass. The audience chatter at the beginning as well as the rise of the laughter and applause during the song add so much character to it. And of course, the track would be nothing without the as always, amazing three part harmony and the touch of French horns that give it a touch of class and round out the song well.

With a dramatic and quite pretty transition (with added applause), the album goes on to "With a Little Help From My Friends", the quintessential Ringo song. A song that shows off his need and love of brotherhood and his "sentimental thing" as Paul McCartney put it. As well as show off more harmonies and the strong rhythm section of the band, particularly the drums, which are airy and light, yet swing and carry the song so well.

The next song, "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" is almost a painting of sound, with it's evocative lyrics and arrangement. The long bass notes add to the sleepy, dreamy quality of the song's lyrics and the drums add just enough accents when they're needed and aren't overbearing. The music makes you feel like you're floating, that is, until the drum lead-up to the chorus kicks in, like you're about to take off flying. John Lennon's vocal and the effects added to it also add to the dreamlike quality. One second he sounds like he's right in your ear, the next he echos in and out, as if he's far away and trying to entice you to follow him where ever he's going along with Lucy to fountains and rocking horse people.

"Getting Better" is a classic pop song, but with a foundation of a strong bass line, grooving and swinging drums, along with piano by George Martin and tamboura by George Harrison, giving it a kind of funky edge. The middle eight of the song also seems to swirl adding to the seemingly happy mood of the song. A song which may not be as happy-peppy-optimistic as it appears at first (and sometimes thousandth) listen. With lines like "it can't get no worse", "I used to be cruel to my woman", etc., one has to wonder just how happy it really is. After all, if the narrator's past includes beating people, just because it's "getting better" that doesn't necessarily mean that it's all that good. But that just might be looking too deeply at a song that is a classic example of how well John Lennon and Paul McCartney complimented each other.

The song that follows, "Fixing a Hole", also shows that in a way, as it shows an example of Paul's dream-like and atmospheric side (John's version of this being shown in "Lucy"). The music swirls and dips and takes you away. The guitar is funky and has a bit of a bite to it and the drums, again, swing. But the bass is possibly the most important instrument because it gives the song a groove and life and soul which would be gone in it's absence, leaving it sounding cold and thin. The possible downside to the song is that while the music is amazing, it would be very easy to get too swept away in it and lose sight of the quirky lyrics. According to McCartney the song is about "the hole in your make-up which lets the rain in and stops your mind from going where it will. It's you interfering with things." The song also almost sounds like it could be a precursor to "The Fool on the Hill" sung from his point of view, with lines like, "See the people standing there who disagree and never win / And wonder why they don't get in my door."

Next, "She's Leaving Home", possibly one of the Beatles most beautiful songs in terms of melody and vocals. The strings, arranged by Mike Leander, add to the beauty and sadness of the lyrics and the harp adds such a gentle and airy beauty, but the vocals are what take center stage. John taking the role of the befuddled and abandoned parents has so much vulnerability and Paul's singing of, "How could she do this to me?" is utterly heartbreaking. The song is a fantastic example of a common theme in McCartney's work, ordinary people doing ordinary things (though cynics like Lennon would say "boring"). While some may see this as a weakness, in the case of this particular song, it is certainly a strength. It beautifully shows off his romantic nature and reverence for the everyday. He can see the beauty in the everyday and how even the most seemingly simple things can resonate no matter how old the songs get. Because "She's Leaving Home," whether or not one is parent, is about something so common and so universal, something that all experience and understand: letting go.

Like "Lucy" earlier in the album, the next song "Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!" is another painting in sound. You can almost hear the om-pa-pa, om-pa-pa in Lennon's voice and practically see him the center ring with a top hat as he sings. Thanks mostly in part to the full, lush and chaotic carnival noises made by Harrison, Starr, George Martin and with harmonicas by Mal Evans and Neil Aspinall, which do nearly make you "smell the sawdust" as John wanted. And yet again, the rhythm section gives life to it all.

As hypnotic as the carnival noises in "Mr. Kite" are, "Within You Without You", the song which follows it, is even more hypnotic. The trills and dips of George Harrison's voice are so subtle and beautiful. The rhythm of the tabla and the sounds of the dilruba, tamboura, the violins and cellos and Harrison's voice mix and flow, so perfectly, so beautifully, it's enchanting. The semi-duel in the musical break is amazing, too. The song is also proof of Harrison's lyrical strength and cleverness, particularly the double meaning behind the title "Within You Without You". On one hand it's about how life in each of us and outside of us, in all things; but on the other, while it's within us (as with all), it'll go on long after we are gone. And that it's more important to love and not get wrapped up in walls we put between ourselves and other "illusions". The only real down side to the song, and something that has always bothered me, is the laughter that happens at the tail end. It kind of kills the mood.

Though admittedly, it's a good segue in a way, as "When I'm Sixty-Four" follows (not that that will ever stop it from being bothersome). But "When I'm Sixty-Four" is meant to be quite a funny song, as well as an homage to musical loves of Paul McCartney's father, so it's hard to get too angry with it or treat it too harshly. (Not to mention McCartney wrote it when he was just sixteen.) Everything adds to the humorous and old Hollywood-type vibe that the band was going for with it. Again, the bass is quite simple, but effective and adds so much swing to the song, as does the piano, and with this album being basically Paul McCartney's baby/brainchild, that is not very surprising.

Another example of just how much it's Paul's album is the next track, "Lovely Rita." It's another song that lives and dies with the bass and drums, particularly the bass drum which gives the song much of its backbone and life. Odd lyrics aside, it's quite musically complex. The arrangements of the backing vocals, bass, piano (especially the intricate and fast piano break) and slightly dark musical coda do save it from being complete "fluff" or a "throwaway".

"Good Morning Good Morning" is another example of how Lennon and McCartney compliment each other, with the song being John's version of ordinary people doing ordinary things. Even if some of the pop culture references in it are lost on newer listeners, it still resonates. After all, "nothing has changed, it's still the same." The song is an excellent example of how funky the Beatles could get. The bass and drums swing and drive the song, the guitar is funky and soulful, and one wonders at times when the hell John Lennon manages to breathe. And the horn section is a brilliant addition, taking it from "ok rocker" to another level of sick and amazing.

The excitement and build up carries over into "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise)", which is fast and fun with a driving rhythm section and great harmonies. The song totally drives home the idea that the album is a concert; whether it's raucous applause and laughter, John's little "Bye" to the audience, or sounds Paul trying to vamp up a crowd, it is the fun penultimate number in a show that comes before the utterly amazing encore...

"A Day in the Life". It is a masterpiece, plain and simple. The album is noteworthy simply for this song alone. It's a perfect blending of John and Paul's styles and ways of writing about ordinary people and events. Again, the foundation is the rhythm section, gorgeous piano, steady bass and drums that perfectly accent the song. Whether it's the rolling the verses, which adds to the drama of it all or the driving and marching drums in middle eight that are so evocative of the hurry-up-and-rush described in Paul's lines, the drums are perfection. They would be the star of the show here if it wasn't for the haunting vocal by John Lennon, which gives chills from the second he starts to sing.

Though the seeds had been planted before Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band was undeniably a turning point, not just for the Beatles, but for all rock and pop music. It was proof that anything and everything could be done.

There were no limits.

Well, except for the technical limits at the time. The creativity, on the other hand, knew no bounds. Whether it was pulling ideas from old Victorian circus posters, the newspaper, everyday life (past and present) or a child's drawings. It was all fair game. And it worked. While it may not be the Beatles strongest or best work overall, it is among their most influential and groundbreaking and pushed the envelope more than just about anything they had done. (Or just about anyone had done up until that point.) It changed all that came after it and is still the standard for many people, such as Ozzy Osbourne, who still says he wants to make his "Sgt. Pepper". Those are things that no amount of nit-picking will ever take away from it.

“And This Is How I Fell”: "Franz Ferdinand" by Franz Ferdinand (Back Catalog)

January 2004 and my interest in contemporary music is severely lacking, bordering on nonexistent. Too distracted by newfound love of Tolkien, recurring depression, and lacking faith that anything could grab me the way music had in my preteen to mid-teen years, I stopped caring. If I listened to the radio at all, it was to listen to talk radio or maybe CBS.fm in New York. I’d even fallen behind on many artists I did care about.

The first time I heard Franz Ferdinand, I didn’t really hear them. One morning I happened to have MTV on in the background and caught a You Hear It First news segment, which profiled the band. Whether due to quick editing or morning lethargy, I couldn’t make out the music in the live footage or much in the interview beyond a floppy fringe. But I did catch one very important thing, their desire to make "music for girls to dance to" and in an instant I knew they could easily become a problem for me. As "Take Me Out" gained notice and popularity here in the States, I did all I could to avoid them. Not an easy task with a single so monstrously catchy and two friends of mine being deep into the band. I held out until that September when my first listen of "The Dark of the Matinée" confirmed my instincts. Franz Ferdinand stole my heart and, soon, restored my faith.

Academic integrity commands me to share this personal history and be upfront. The internet just loves to groan about biases, so I feel putting this context out in the open should squash that. Besides, as the saying goes, write what you know and I know Franz exemplifies so much of my musical philosophy that a retrospective of their work to date acts as the best introduction for this blog. They are my favorite band for a reason, after all, and this post (and the three to come) will provide a small glimpse into why. Strictly speaking, these posts aren’t meant to be reviews of their work. They could be seen as analyses with Franz Ferdinand as the jumping off point, but I would say they’re somewhere in the middle. Also, the discussion will only cover the four albums, the core of the band’s catalog; no b-sides, no covers. Most discussion will be grouped by album, but some tracks might be discussed out of that sequence. With that in mind…

A key component to understanding my musical philosophy and, incidentally, Franz’s predominant musical philosophy also, is an interest in pop music that works on multiple levels. Music that triggers an emotional response first and foremost or, according to front man Alex Kapranos, "bypasses your brain completely and makes you get on your feet," but can hold up to deeper scrutiny and be enriching if you let it. There are examples of this throughout pop history, from the Beatles to the Clash, Bowie to Gaga, but another distinct example is Franz’s own "Take Me Out."

Though unfair, one can see why "Take Me Out" casts such a shadow over the rest of their output in the eyes of some. The combination of the song’s ear-catching opening, the main guitar riff, and the force of that driving beat are simply undeniable. If this song can’t make you dance, it’s hard to imagine what could. As for the song’s meaning, interpretations vary, including the idea that the narrator is the Archduke Ferdinand. I, for one, have never subscribed to that particular thought. Yes, it’s about pulling a trigger, but a more metaphorical one. Put plainly, it’s about sexual tension and flirting, but unlike what passes for flirting in much of recent popular music the narrator of this song isn’t bragging. In fact, the narrator seems pretty inept, which makes the song more about the fragility of sexual tension than unfailing swaggering bravado (looking at you Jason "Talk Dirty to Me" Derulo.) Lines like "If I move this could die / Eyes move this could die" and "If I wane this could die / I wait this could die" illustrate this ineptitude quite well. The slightest misstep (or lack of step) could ruin any chance the narrator has with the target. Even if they were to simply look away from each other the tension could fall apart or disappear. And yet, despite knowing that he’s doomed if he does nothing, he resigns himself to that failure ("I know I won’t be leaving here with you") and continues to awkwardly wait on the other person to pull the trigger. Franz revisits this theme of sexual tension-meets-romantic-awkwardness later on in their work with "No You Girls"/"Katherine Kiss Me."

If "Take Me Out" represents fumbles on the road to seduction, "Darts of Pleasure" and "Michael" represent the flair. "Michael"’s narrator has no qualms about giving into the immediacy of the moment ("Nothing matters now") and making his desires abundantly clear. According to Kapranos, "The most enjoyable thing about songs and sex is the flirting… the way sparks go flying. It’s good to write about love, but it’s more exciting to write about the suggestion that love is about to happen, being on the cusp of that passion." "Darts of Pleasure" encapsulates such excitement with its narrator’s promises of "fantastic passion" and "tense anticipation" and, of course, its musical climax. A fascination with such tension is one I have as well, but that isn’t so much about musical philosophy as it is something I have an affinity for, like horn sections. The same could be said about my love for Franz’s tendency for contrasts, particularly in music and lyrics, as seen in "Take Me Out"’s driving, bouncy music paired with fairly downer lyrics or even how Franz Ferdinand consists mainly of dance tracks, but begins and ends in softness.

In addition to making music that works on multiple levels Franz’s desires to make music that, to quote Kapranos, "communicates the most complex of ideas in the simplest way." One of the best examples of this put into practice is Franz Ferdinand’s opening track, "Jacqueline." The first verse recalls an incident between the titular Jacqueline and Ivor Cutler, wherein Cutler’s romantic advances were rejected. His response, "You see me just as an old man, but I’m looking at you with the same eyes that I had as a young man" became "Sometimes these eyes forget the face they’re peering from… and how in the return of the gaze she can return you the face that you are staring from." With time, that line has become a favorite of mine for the beauty in its deceptive simplicity. In a way the verse reminds me of the Beach Boys’ "Caroline, No," which at its heart mourns the loss of innocence. Both are about what you lose with age, whether internally or externally, and how the loss often happens so gradually it goes unnoticed until something or someone forces you to remember. Hearing "Jacqueline" for the first time at the age of twenty, I mostly understood the opening verse intellectually. Its emotional impact didn’t truly strike me until much later. The ability of a song to unfold with time ties back to the idea of music that works on multiple levels. In the sense that a work that is lasting and enriching should give the listener something new with subsequent listens and almost evolve with the listener.

For clarity’s sake, I want to make a distinction between being exemplary of my musical philosophy versus being formative in said philosophy. Certainly over the last decade Franz Ferdinand has helped hone it and influenced artists I’ve listened to or revisited. It’s not much of a coincidence, for example, that deeper explorations of Duran Duran and Depeche Mode ran parallel to my initial dive into Franz. However, the first artists that I clearly remember discussing the duality of their work, the people who planted that seed in my mind were the Spice Girls. We’ll dig more into them another time, but suffice to say, their part in shaping my expectations and ideals for pop music is impossible for me to overstate. And if you want to find another root of my unabashed defense of pop look no further than that second verse of *NSYNC’s "Pop."

Another major formative influence for me is the Beatles. I speak Beatle. Fluently. So much so that when I found out Kapranos/McCarthy’s intent behind "Cheating on You" was to write their version of an early Lennon/McCartney, I wasn’t the least bit surprised by it; that "eeeeee" after the chorus is classic ‘64 Macca. Unfortunately, while they succeed in their imitation, it feels more like early Beatles filler; "Hold Me Tight" as opposed to "I Feel Fine." Of course, it follows the emotional gut-punch that is "Auf Achse," so perhaps that accounts somewhat for it falling flat. Admittedly, I quite dig "Cheating on You" when done live, but obviously, we’re not here to talk about anything beyond what is committed to the record.

This leads to the other major low point in Franz Ferdinand, "This Fire." The live version is untouchable, but that doesn’t change that what ended up on Franz Ferdinand is less than satisfying. The band wasn’t satisfied with it either, which eventually led to the re-recorded single produced by Rich Costey, "This FFFire." In Helen Chase’s An A – Z of Franz Ferdinand, "This Fire" and "Tell Her Tonight" are given as examples of creative friction between the band and the album’s producer Tore Johansson and it shows, really. There are portions of "This Fire" that are meant to be restrained and it works. During the verses when the slow burn of Alex’s vocal is center-stage, restraint works, but when it comes time for chorus to explode it falls flat and limp. What ultimately makes the Costey produced track superior comes down to a feeling, a surging, strong feeling that the album version lacks. Perhaps the reason for that lies in the difficulty in fully capturing the band’s explosive live energy and something getting lost in translation from live performance to demo to record, a problem that resurfaces later in Franz’s second album.

I mentioned earlier that Franz Ferdinand’s desire to make "music for girls to dance to" grabbed me in a big way before I ever heard a note of their music. It was refreshing to see a band declare that they were about the listener having fun and unashamedly labeled themselves pop when too many treat pop and artistry as diametrically opposed. Their rejection of the snobbery that often plagues artists and fans was music to my ears and "The Dark of the Matinée" brings that idea right into the forefront. The student narrator attempts to "charm" someone by listing everything he hates (people, clothes, words), seemingly surprised by the response, "You smile, mention something that you like, oh, how you’d have a happy life if you did the things you like." The line serves as a clever dig at what often passes for clever to the cynical teen mind. And, damn, is it brilliant. I could go on for hours about the beauty of its melody and wit of its lyrics, but in the end, "Matinée" fills me with joy just as it did the first time I heard it. And after all, isn’t that the whole point?

Next time, more Franz Ferdinand and personal musical philosophy! More specifically, discussion about the myth and reality of the so-called sophomore slump and beginning to explore an idea Michael Nesmith calls "Releasing the Boone." Then we’ll delve into authorial intent, authorial regret, ambition, and Pinkertons.

Housekeeping

I wanted to make a quick post just to get everyone up to speed on stuff going forward (hopefully.)

First, if you follow me on Facebook, I've mentioned technical issues that have impeded my ability to do certain things for this blog. Unfortunately, that all still stands, but I'm trying to adjust and work around it in the meantime.

Second, last August, I said I would be spending that month reviewing Franz Ferdinand's catalog leading up to the release of Right Thoughts Right Words Right Action. Obviously, that didn't happen, but I still really love the idea of having that as this blog's true starting point. So that is what will be happening next month! It will certainly be a thing.

Third, I'm hoping to get weekly updates rolling along. The weekly deadline applies to all of my blog projects, not just this one. Now that doesn't mean every blog gets a weekly update (I'd probably go batty), rather that you can expect some form of post from me each week. It will change up depending on what I'm focussing on at the time, so sometimes the updates will be here, other times Cover to Cover or Working Macca. I doubt I'll crosspost links among all the blogs, but everything will be updated on Facebook and Twitter.

I think that's all for now. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, by all means, share them (here or wherever you're comfortable) and I will reply as soon as I can.

Thoughts, Words, Action (Right)

I haven't been able to give this blog the attention I've truly wanted to so far this summer. There are many reasons for that, but they are mostly irrelevant. I should have made more effort. No excuses this time.

To make up for lost time, I am introducing a series, of sorts, that (within reason) will become a regular occurrence here. For the remainder of this month, I will be posting parts of an artist retrospective.

What does that involve, exactly? Well, each Friday I will be posting a review of an album until I make my way through the entire discography of an artist in release order.

So, who am I starting with? The inspiration for artist retrospectives came from the fact that I am really excited for the release of Franz Ferdinand's Right Thoughts, Right Words, Right Action on August 26th/27th. Anyone who knows me knows that I absolutely adore this band and since I will be spending much of the next few weeks buried in their past work, I figured I should put it to good use.

Here's to a month of memories, gushing, and slacken ties.

Stripes Unfurled, Solo Rollin': "Blunderbuss" by Jack White (Cover to Cover)

During the last decade, Jack White has been an almost ubiquitous presence in alternative rock music, as half of the White Stripes, member of the Raconteurs and the Dead Weather, and producer for acts, like country legend Loretta Lynn. Therefore, it might be a surprise to some that Blunderbuss (released on Third Man Records) is White’s first solo album. It would be far too easy to attempt to compare it to White’s past projects as well as a disservice to the album itself; Blunderbuss more than stands up on its own. However, that isn’t to say comparisons can’t be made at all. The album’s second single, “Sixteen Saltines,” is the most typically White Stripes-esque of the album. The song is raw and loud with the distorted guitars and fierce drums that encapsulate the Stripes’ style. The album is also full of White’s love of the blues, country, and Dylan, threads that connect a great deal of his work, but now are processed through his vision alone.

With White’s recent divorce and the split of the White Stripes last year, it would also be very easy to fall into the trap of viewing the album purely as a postmortem statement on those personal situations. Of course, it would also be naïve to say those things didn’t influence the album at all. As White said in an interview with the Montreal Gazette, "As an artist, you're a victim to your environment. I'd like to make up a scenario, but my writing ends up having a lot to [do] with things I've felt and observed." The most overt comment on his former band mate comes in the clever and bittersweet track “Hip (Eponymous) Poor Boy.”  He sings, “So I get into the game, but always keep it the same / And I'll be usin' your name,” a reference to his use ex-wife/ex-drummer Meg White’s last name. Despite this track, like his idol Bob Dylan, White’s lyrics are almost always too vague and obscure to pinpoint his precise meaning or inspiration. (Not that that has stopped anyone from trying.)

The album’s title track “Blunderbuss” is another highlight. It is beautiful and vulnerable and conveys raw emotion lyrically the way tracks like “Sixteen Saltines” do so musically. Other highlights of the album include the flat out awesome cover of Little Willie John’s “I’m Shakin’,” “Hypocritical Kiss,” and “Freedom at 21,” which strongly echoes Rush’s “Tom Sawyer.” The album Blunderbuss is a perfect blend of rock, blues, country, and even pop. Whether you’re a fan of White’s previous work or just looking for something new, this album cannot be recommended highly enough.

The Epic and the Lackluster: "Fallen Empires" by Snow Patrol (Cover to Cover)

Reviewing a Snow Patrol album is an awkward position to be in, because it seems like many people have long ago made up their minds about the band; either viewing the band’s singer/songwriter Gary Lightbody as a poet of his generation or seeing the band as a lesser version of Coldplay. The band’s latest album, Fallen Empires, shows that both camps are certainly justified in their thinking.

The album features quite a few guest appearances, such as Michael Stipe and Queen of the Stone Age’s Tony Van Leeuwen. However, the two most notable appearances come from the LA Inner City Mass Gospel Choir and folk singer Lissie. Both feature on multiple tracks and add a level of emotion and intensity that might be lost otherwise. This is particularly true of Lissie who essentially saves the tracks “The Garden Rules” and “Those Decent Bells” with her somewhat haunting voice that is often reminiscent of Stevie Nicks.

While the songs are all very beautiful and well-constructed, some suffer from flaws that have plagued the band for most of their career. The biggest flaw being a tendency to lean on one-line choruses that repeat far too much, such as in “The Garden Rules,” “The Weight of Love,” and “Life-ning.” It’s a shame, because it bogs down songs that are otherwise beautiful and sweet.

Though the album has its flaws there are also many moments of sheer brilliance. One such moment is the album’s third single, “New York,” which some might compare to the band’s well-known ballads “Run” and “Chasing Cars.” The swell of the chorus is epic and timeless, the lyrics heartfelt and genuine (“I miss it all from the love to the lightening / And the lack of it snaps me in two”), and there’s no other way to describe the overall effect other than that it twists your guts.

Another highlight on the album is the title track, “Fallen Empires,” which harkens back to the more “obscure” and “alternative” of their catalog, such as “Last Ever Lone Gunman.” The best way to describe this track would be: if flames could make music, this is what they would sound like. The bass line grabs you, the drums are tribal, the vocals hypnotizing and sinister, and the whole thing just commands you to move. If this song isn’t released as a single sooner or later that would be an absolute crime*. In fact, for any and all flaws the album may have, it is worth a listen simply for this track alone. Fallen Empires may not mark a big or lasting change in sound for Snow Patrol or change how some view them, but it is a beautiful and worthwhile album.

*Incidentally, it never was a single and yes, I do think that was a huge mistake.