Iron Maiden - The Final Frontier: B+

"The Talisman"

When I first heard that Iron Maiden would continue to write and perform music after their newest album, the first feeling I experienced was of relief. Although it may sound trite, I confess my relief didn't really stem from the prospect of Iron Maiden continuing the make music, but from the implicit conclusion that their newest album, The Final Frontier, would not be their final album.

The reason why that was such an overwhelming feeling was because of the fact that Iron Maiden hold such an interesting position when it comes to professional musicianship. 2010 has already seen its fair share of final statements (Jack Rose, LCD Soundsystem, Daughters) and most of them were forcibly caused, as most are, by either a break-up or the death of a member. I am confident that Iron Maiden can continue to play music until they feel like stopping. They're just as dynamic as they were when they were half as young and still have the personally distinct honor of never releasing a bad song. If they're going to end that legacy on an album, I don't think it's unfair to expect a truly fantastic or at least excellent farewell in return.

If The Final Frontier was that last goodbye, it would not have met my criteria. Don't get me wrong; the album is pretty good. My qualm is that it sounds more like a transitional release than anything else. And no, I don't mean that just because the first song of The Final Frontier is some industrial reverb-swarthed crack at new wave. In fact, that little ditty is probably the album's weakest track (not bad enough to constitute as a "bad" song mind you). No, The Final Frontier sounds transitional, because we finally see Iron Maiden pull away from the homogenized sound that characterized the band's 2000's material, and move towards a different sound. That different sound is, essentially, that of Powerslave. The Final Frontier can be boiled down to this: The riffs of Powerslave with the song structures of the band's aughts material (Brave New World, Dance of Death, A Matter of Life and Death. Take your pick). "Coming Home" copies this blueprint, verbatim, the beginning flowing from a descending melodic twin guitar lead with a distinct bass presence into the slow and reliable metal trudging on the verses and chorus that wouldn't sound unfamiliar on A Matter of Life and Death. It sounds corny to say, but it may very well be possible that the time the band spent playing their old deep cuts on The Somewhere Back In Time Tour has dusted off a style that Maiden has sanded down for quite some time now.

I don't want anyone reading this to think that I view the aughts material of Maiden to be bad. A Matter of Life and Death was one of my favorite albums of 2006 and I see "Dance of Death" as right up there in quality with "The Number of the Beast" and "2 Minutes to Midnight". When I say "trudging" and "homogenized", I mean that they're less caustic and sporadic and more plodding and epic. It's literally dinosaur rock; moving slowly and irrevocably from release to release and concert to concert, and I have no problem with that. What I do have a problem with is when I hear that slow intro into that bombastically fast verse formula one too many times. "The Talisman" and "The Man Who Would Be King" are, overall, very good songs, but I would be lying to you if I said that I've not once skipped each respective song's first few minutes out of impatience.

Do I even have to tell you how the musicianship is? Steve Harris is unsurprisingly superb, even if, at times, he's too much Robert Trujillo and not enough... Steve Harris. Bruce Dickinson continues to shame singers less than half his age (Some have criticized the guy's performance on this album, accusing his vocal chords of waning, but the most technically fascinating part of the man's voice-- that he can make a squeaky high note sound organic-- continues to inspire awe. If I have one problem with his performance, it's not when he hits those high notes, it's when he double-tracks them on songs like "El Dorado", which just sounds like the brazen smoothing over of vocal kinks that I'm not sure exist). Ultimately, the guitar earns my highest praise, though. Kudos to the band for continuing to have the creative clout to house each guitar solo with a distinctly different groove from the melody and arrangement that preceded it. The breakdown in "The Talisman" isn't even a solo, but it's epic and insatiably clever. If you're interested in The Final Frontier to hear the band shred, A. You already own the album, and B. You're on the right track.

Otherwise, it would still have been a good decision. The Final Frontier won't earn the band many new fans (unless you count the kids and grandkids of current Iron Maiden fans), but it's a good stopgap in a career I hope will continue to expand and reward upon itself. A Matter of Life and Death might have been a better final piece, but, as their current live shows have shown, Iron Maiden don't see themselves as a peddler of more of the same.

Iron Maiden - The Final Frontier: B+

Matthew Dear - Black City: B+

"Little People (Black City)"

Matthew Dear, not for nothing, is a pretty handsome guy. His newest album... isn't. Sexy, bizarre, intense, yes, but if you're looking for an artist to just hand you an album of easy listening dance music with a complacent countenance, you should look elsewhere. Black City is an album that plays so far against type, it may reshape your perspective on how modern dance music should sound.

What makes Black City so irresistible is how Matthew Dear manages to continuously string the listener along. I don't mean this as if Dear is constantly leading you on by teasing at the cusp of a climax or catharsis; in fact Black City is comprised of dozens of them. No, what keeps setting the listener off balance while listening to this album is the fact that, for the album's ten tracks, Dear seems to be constantly perverting the line between the weird and the familiar. It's the kind of music that I would imagine playing in the background at the Restaurant at the End of the Universe; to someone this stuff is normal, but, for you, there is this constant nagging feeling that there's something not quite right. I feel like Arthur Dent when presented with the nine-minute monster of a single, "Little People (Black City)" (What is this guy saying? 'Love me like a clown'? Am I supposed to dance to this?... Okay."). "Ride with me / In my big black car," Dear demands so matter-of-factly in "You Put a Smell on Me" and I can't help but think of Zaphod Beeblebrox exercising his space-age swag in that untouchable black car. It's all tantalizingly delectable, but if there's one thing that Black City won't make you feel, it's comfortable.

Even when Matthew steps off the dance floor and into the heavens on album closer, "Gem", the man can't help but infuse some weirdness into the proceedings. Ultimately, this may be incumbent upon his very style as a performer. Throughout Black City, Dear sings with either one or two other voices accompanying him, singing the same notes just at different octaves. As a result, it never feels like just Dear is serenading you, but two or three are simultaneously, and you can understand how uncomfortable one can feel when all those voices close in for intimacy. For however disturbing it may sound in text, damnit if it doesn't sound creepily compelling on record.

At its worst, Black City sounds like filler from Gorillaz first two albums, and, at its best, it sounds like the kind of gilded trash techno that would score a Samurai Jack episode. You'll hear Matthew Dear sing in an unwavering monotone reminiscent of Stephin Merritt that will sound convincing whether speaking of relationship obligations, surgery or monkeys. Black City may only be truly appropriate music for an intergalactic dance party millions of lightyears away, but, if it never had that inherent eccentricity to it, it might never have been nearly as alluring.

Matthew Dear - Black City: B+

Dark Tranquility - We Are the Void: B

"Shadow in Our Blood"

When it came to all the crap metal albums I had been listening to in the beginning of this year, We Are the Void came as somewhat of a relief. Sure, you’ve got that relentlessly atonal screaming and not much songwriting chops in play to make up the difference, but there is just enough song craft and interesting guitar work intact to keep you not totally disinterested. This is recommended for any music reviewer who needs something to get him or her out of the doldrums of the metal scene of the beginning of 2010. If you’re not one, then you’re better of looking elsewhere.

Dark Tranquility - We Are the Void: B

Johnny Cash - American VI: Ain't No Grave: B+

"Redemption Day"

Before starting this blog, I had already developed a relatively extensive rapport of music from past and present. Of course, I was just one music devotee, so there were plenty of artists that I knew existed and I knew others enjoyed, but never got around to listening to. As a result, with Check Your Mode, I have been able to dip my toe into artists and genres both old and new that I would not normally look into.

And so this brings me to American VI: Ain't No Grave, in which I open myself to the life and music of Johnny Cash at the end of both. American VI is the sixth and supposedly last collection of songs from the sessions that Cash had recorded with Rick Rubin at the end of his life that will ever see the light of day. All but one of its ten songs are covers and all of them have that folks-y sound to them that fans of the American series and Johnny Cash have come to expect.

Since Ain't No Grave was released, critics have been accusing Rick Rubin of being over-eager to draw nostalgia from the listener with the after-the-fact accouterments he has added to Cash's mostly acoustic recordings. For the most part, I don't agree with this sentiment. The proverbial sap spile to the maple of nostalgia: unnecessary string arragements, are never an uncomfortable presence on this album. Still, there is no doubt that the best of Ain't No Grave is when the least window dressing is applied. All Rubin has to do is introduce the sound of clinking chains or plunk a low note on a piano to make the title track and album highlight, "Redemption Day", respectively, extremely effective. "Water", which features nothing more than an acoustic and Cash's rosy tenor, is something of pure hushed wonderment as the man describes a tale of temptation amidst a desert landscape.

Like much of the American series, Ain't No Grave is successful in at least converting every song Cash plays into something purely his own. I could not imagine hearing the songs of Ain't No Grave being covered by anyone else, even album closer, "Aloha Oye", whose straightforward and surprisingly spry performance is absolutely lovely, even if it's not the outright tear-jerker Rick Rubin may have intended it to be. At times, Cash sounds vulnerable on Ain't No Grave, at others stoic. But what's ultimately fulfilling about the album is that, even at the end of his life, Cash exuded a confidence and passion in his music that could take others multiple lifetimes to muster.

Johnny Cash - American VI: Ain't No Grave: B+

High on Fire - Snakes for the Divine: B+

"Snakes for the Divine"

The first fourth of Snakes for the Divine is absolutely fantastic. The title track is harrowing from its incredible beginning crescendo to the bass tapping in its chorus. First single and second track, "Frost Hammer", is similarly pummeling, and "Bastard Samurai" proves to be a pretty good holdover. Musically, the band never falters. Drummer Des Kensel's primal thrap is effective with the album's gritty production and Matt Pike's scowl always sounds like Tom Araya after decades of chain smoking. However, as Snakes for the Divine progresses, it goes from an excellent release to a pretty good one, as the band's knack for prime metal songwriting wanes and begins to tread water, creatively.

Overall, Snakes for the Divine is a very good album. I'm just a little disappointed at how much it could have been a great one. Still, for all its flaws, High on Fire has released one of this year's best American metal albums (which isn't too much of a compliment considering how much Scandinavia has been sweeping in this category this year). It delivers in head-pummeling craft, but, as a cohesive product, Snakes for the Divine leaves a little to be desired.

High on Fire - Snakes for the Divine: B+

Xiu Xiu - Dear God, I Hate Myself: C+

"Dear God I Hate Myself"

Yep, it's that kind of album. That title. That cover. I'd like to say that Dear God, I Hate Myself isn't the melodramatic melancholy pity party one might think it would be, but it is. The only reason I'm not giving it a lower rating than just crappy and not lambasting it in an emo-hating tirade is that the album does show some signs of quality amidst the dreck. These moments are quite few and far between, and far too much of Dear God, I Hate Myself is Jamie Stewart moaning over amorphous arrangements. Even the one moment of optimism, "This Too Shall Pass Away (For Freddy)", sounds half-assed and tossed-off, so it's hardly any solace for the rest of the album's depressive nature. Don't bother with Dear God, I Hate Myself. As much as I'd like to say it transcends the emo archetype, it plays right into most of the genre's drawbacks.

Xiu Xiu - Dear God, I Hate Myself: C+

Toro Y Moi - Causers of This: B+

"Blessa"

Frothy. That's what Toro Y Moi's debut album sounds like. With the onset of every track of Causers of This, I imagine someone cracking open an ice cold can of something or making a cappuccino or pouring whipped cream on something. It's about as glo-fi as you can get in February (snow-fi?), as percussion crackles and hums past your ears in blissed-out glee.

A notable aspect of Causers of This is the technique of having the music drop out at the downbeat of each measure. The effect it creates is similar to what would happen if you were drinking that cappuccino and, suddenly, all the liquid in the container disappeared, then reappeared. I mean, sure you have that liquid back in your mouth, but that doesn't change the jarring surprise of having what you expected to be there disappear, even if just for a moment. The second half of Causers of This relies on this surprise, and the literal effect it has on your ears is indescribable. All I know is that it sucks you into the music, immediately, and the album should be listened to for that feature, alone. As an album, though, Causers of This is great and might be the only album I've ever heard that would be ideal listening for saunas or while steaming vegetables.

Toro Y Moi - Causers of This: B+

What Is The Great Catch-Up?

Since the year started, I have been embarking on an enormous project that will prove to be extremely trying and, at this, point, I'm not particularly sure if I will be able to fulfill. As of now, the mission of Check Your Mode is this: to be your extensive guide to everything related to the music of the 2010's.

That's right. If all goes well, Check Your Mode's archives and activity will end at December 31st, 2019 (but, more likely, January 31st, 2020), with more music reviewed and ranked than any person concerned with this decade will ever want to contend with.

However, unfortunately, the time when I was to begin Check Your Mode was in the middle of college application season, and I just didn't have the time to do anything concerning music other than listening to and rating. Still, I desperately wanted to launch Check Your Mode, so The Great Catch-Up was conceived.

From now to the end of March of 2011, there will be FOUR Great Catch-Ups. The first, of which we are entrenched in right now, will be the recollection of the albums that I failed to review in the first six months of this year. The each album will be posted on the exact date they were released, just six months later. In this fashion, Vampire Weekend's Contra was posted on July 12th, and Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti's Before Today, the final post of The Great Catch-Up, will be posted on November 30th. For any album that was released in between those two, check its release date and check in with Check Your Mode for a possible review.

The Second Great Catch-Up will take place in January of next year and will chronicle the albums released in June, 2010. If all goes as planned, the dates they will be posted will be in concurrence with the date they were released, just seven months later.

The Third Great Catch-Up will take place in February of next year and will feature all of the music of the month of December, 2010. Now, the general layout of the next decade will be that December will feature no reviews (more on that later) and the releases of that month will be posted in January of that next year in the same way that the releases of The Second Great Catch-Up will be posted. However, due to all of the scheduling conflicts, those releases will be posted one month later than usual.

For however well planned out the first three Great Catch-Ups will be, the fourth will be far less calculated. At pretty much random points in the month of March, 2011, I will post all of the reviews of the albums that I missed in the First Great Catch-Up. And if that little bit annoys you, then fuck off. Nobody's perfect.

Now, I want everyone to keep in mind that, during the first three months of next year, new releases will be reviewed and posted in much the same way I post new releases with the Great Catch-Up albums. I plan to branch out as Check Your Mode progresses into writing articles and musical essays, but, for understandable reasons, that may not be feasible for the first couple months of 2011, but, as the site progresses and matures, I hope to create as extensive of a guide as my readers deserve. Thanks to all who have been following, and I hope I can keep this going for as long as I possibly can.

What Is The Great Catch-Up?

Lower Dens - Twin-Hand Movement: B

"Blue & Silver"

Lower Dens don't know how to end a song, nor do they really know how to start one. Nothing on Twin-Hand Movement, the band's debut album, is particularly satisfying, and I believe that is because Lower Dens has very little regard for following any real convention of songwriting. Although I can be quoted as regarding this quality as good, the result of Lower Dens' salutary neglect is a patchwork of decent to great ideas, but that's all they ultimately become: Ideas. A bassline usually sets the groundwork for the guitarists to noodle at their free will in individual speakers while the singer enunciates unintelligible phrases. Before you know it, the song's over without so much as a heed for dynamics or purpose. Take the song "A Dog's Dick" for example. My thought is that Lower Dens jammed around two and a half minutes of a repeating phrase and, during Twin-Hand Movement's mixing, the band decided, "Aww fuck it. Call it 'A Dog's Dick'" to make up for the fact that listeners will never again see those two and a half minutes of their lives.

Not exactly a ringing endorsement. Still, I think that Twin-Hand Movement shows Lower Dens has the potential to make material of better quality. The album's production is impeccable, allowing every instrument just enough sonic room to breathe and perform, however misguided or meandering those performances may be.

So this is the part when I tell you that I would recommend this album if you wanted something decent to fill silence while you read or ate cereal, but I could name you ten albums from this year alone that could do that job to a much better degree. Twin-Hand Movement receives a rating of above average by the sole virtue that it sounds quite nice; not that it adds anything remotely interesting to your life.

Lower Dens - Twin-Hand Movement: B

Peter Gabriel - Scratch My Back: B

"The Book of Love"

Oh dear Lord. Peter Gabriel's coming out of the musical woodwork to release an album of covers that is musically nothing more than the man's voice, a piano, and a full orchestra? Sounds to me that Mr. Gabriel is doubling down, going all out to try and seduce my heart to the point that it will be wanting to pull on its own heartstrings for mercy.

When It Works:

Even though Gabriel completely misses the cheekiness in the lyrics with his delivery, his rendition of the Magnetic Fields' "The Book of Love" is Scratch My Back's highlight. Of course, he uses the aforementioned strategy to try to get my heart's guard down, but, in this case, the swelling strings surrounding his subdued verses can bring premeditated tears to my eyes. If all of Scratch My Back was made up of songs like that, then there was a pretty good chance my heart would have put out.

When It Doesn't:

Woah, there, Peter. You're coming on a bit strong. I mean the whole point of Scratch My Back is to conjure the sappiest of the sap, but either your cologne is far too pungent, or that final orchestral stab at the end of your cover of "My Body Is a Cage" is a shameless ploy to make one more pass at my heart on an already failed endeavor. Honestly, you had a better chance if you showed my heart your stamp collection on the first date, and everyone knows that stuff's reserved for at least the third.

With the inclusion of those opposing ends of the quality spectrum, Scratch My Back throws almost a perfect game in supplying hit after dud; flirty come-on after slap in the face. I mean did you really think that you needed to throw your hat in the ring by recording the billionth and a third cover of "Heroes"? It's the same cheap thrills that my heart's seen countless times before, and you're going to need to try harder to get in its pants. Then again, that cover of "Apres Moi"? Oh I do declare I can feel my heart getting hot just thinking about it.

So the ultimate question is: Does Pete succeed? By Scratch My Back's end, is Mr. Gabriel sitting at the edge of a proverbial bed smoking a cigarette while my heart recuperates from a night of intense lovemaking? The short answer is no, but Scratch My Back does such a decent job of pulling those heart strings in the right places, my heart might just let Pete get a ground rule double. Key word: MIGHT. My heart is no whore, Pete.

Peter Gabriel - Scratch My Back: B