Welcome to Check Your Mode

The all-inclusive, ever-changing, and uncomfortably flexible guide to all things music in the 2010's.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

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.

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Lower Dens - Twin-Hand Movement: B




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.

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Peter Gabriel - Scratch My Back: B



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.

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Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Arcade Fire - The Suburbs: A-



When I saw Arcade Fire at Madison Square Garden (the day before their YouTube Unstaged Performance), I was overwhelmed with emotion as I danced and sang along as loud as I could with audience members around me doing much the same. It got me thinking about how the band manages to have such a cathartic effect on people. I don't think the band has recorded a single positive song, yet I and most present were all too eager to smile from ear to ear as we hollered their lyrics at them as tunefully as we could. A couple slow-dancing to "Crown of Love" or me shouting "Working for the church while my family dies!" with a smile on my face seems to coincide with the messages of those songs, but people do it, and with little remorse at that. This is where I believe the majesty of Arcade Fire lies. The band's music offers no solutions for the countless problems their albums and the world offers, but they write melodies that allow people to release their anxieties in a public forum, where their problems seem that much more quaint. It is in this way that Funeral so well embodies adolescent angst, Neon Bible so well encompasses teenage rebellion, and The Suburbs so well characterizes middle-age depression.


The theme of The Suburbs is clear. Both Win Butler and Regine Chassagne have lived in the titular location and have stated that they wanted to capture the feeling of living there with their newest album. To this writer, the suburbs the band depicts are that of the 1950's, a time that seemed to house the perfect middle class, always had a seething undercurrent of fear, inadequacy and anger. The setting of the album concentrates on that undercurrent; that maligned convalescence that every person that lives there is in danger of being engulfed by, and, for many, are destined to remain.


At Madison Square Garden, every time the band was about to play a song from their newest, a single beige spotlight would bathe the band in sepia, symbolizing the similarly marginalized blandness the band was trying to depict. That blandness is expressed in the music as well as in the lyrics, of which I will get to in a moment. The old orchestral fanfares that were present on the band's last two albums are all but gone, and Arcade Fire have never sounded more like a rock and roll band. The title track is traditional two-step honky tonk, "Month of May" sounds like an artsy Ramones with a "Back in the USSR" beginning and "Suburban War" sounds like late-career Bruce Springsteen. What is not traditional for the band is the inclusion of synthesizers, which slowly but surely show up more prominently in the album's mix as the album progresses. The symbolic coldness of the instrument plays perfectly into the themes the band wishes to invoke, and they are used tastefully to continuously allow for comfortable listening.


Arcade Fire are also notably more reserved with their playing on The Suburbs. A Funeral-era Arcade Fire might have treated the chorus of "Ready to Start" as a cymbal-throttling affair. Instead, a florid ride cymbal pervades the song's background, sounding like an ominous wind blowing behind Win as he denies the love of someone who thinks otherwise.


The Suburbs also finds Arcade Fire with a different impression of "the kids". In Funeral, the band were those kids, and, in Neon Bible, the group worked with them to stage a revolt against the adults. But, in The Suburbs, the band are adults stuck in suburbia, and treat the kids with condescension for their naivety. "Let's go downtown and watch the modern kids," Win scoffs on "Rococo", later commenting "My God what is that horrible song they're singing?". His besiege continues on "Month of May", where he notes, "Some things are good and some things are right / But the kids are still standing with their arms folded tight." "So much pain for someone so young," he sings with seeming compassion before continuing to scorn. "I know it's heavy, I know it ain't light / But how you gonna lift it with your arms folded tight?" Where the kids met in the middle of the town in Funeral, and a more secluded place where no cars go in Neon Bible, the kids of The Suburbs meet in an empty room. Although the kids faced hardships throughout Arcade Fire's first two albums, there was no doubt they existed, but in the suburbs, there is a city with no children in it. With The Suburbs, the band (or the character that they are portraying) have disavowed the innocence of their childhood, and, as a result, the album is more dark than anything the band has released in the past.


I don't agree with the case made in "We Used to Wait", in which Win makes a tenuous argument against modern technology by wistfully reminiscing about when he used to wait for letters to arrive before communication became so immediate. However, the song has such a classic Arcade Fire melodic tunefulness, I can't help but sing along. In that song, the most telling line of The Suburb's intentions are expressed. "Now our lives are changing fast / Hope that something pure can last." Oh, now I get it. Win and the group are so tepid towards the modern kids, because they feel that things are changing too quickly and they think they'll be lost in the shuffle, and, as a result, they take it out on the harbingers of that future.


And the two songs that most exemplify this sentiment are "The Sprawl"s. The first finds a young Win visiting The Sprawl on his bike. You can feel the contempt in his voice for the place as he explains the visit as "the loneliest moment of my life." A policeman, who Win depicts as "the last offender of The Sprawl" interrupts his insolent narrative and the song drops out. Cut to the next song and Regine's living there, admitting defeat as she laments the shopping malls that rise like "mountains beyond mountains". "Sometimes I wonder if the world's so small," she sings, not unlike "Heart of Glass" in the menace that underscores the song's glitzy facade. "That we can never get away from the sprawl."


It's tough to know how fans will react to The Suburbs. The album neither immediately smacks of a classic like Funeral nor latches to your subconscious like Neon Bible. Ultimately, The Suburbs resembles the 50's recordings that it is influenced by, opting to be an excellent collection of songs and little else. Some might see that as a disappointment, but, regardless, The Suburbs is essential listening, if only to hear a theme masterfully fleshed out by a band of professionals. At this rate, Arcade Fire may be growing up too fast, but that unsureness of the future that is prevalent in all their albums continues to confound us all in singing along, with inhibition all but left behind.

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Wavves - King of the Beach: B+ / Best Coast - Crazy For You: A-















There are some albums that would just be stupid marketing to release at any point other than the summer. Just by looking at those covers up there, you can guess that the newest albums from Wavves and Best Coast would fall under this category, as they should. Both Wavves and Best Coast mine a similar sound of sun-bleached melodies laden over punky riffage. Now, those two ratings over there are different, so there are some clear differences between the two albums, but I want you to keep in mind that both releases are excellent summer albums that will be interchangeably effective.


Best Coast is the grouping of guitarist and singer Bethany Cosentino, bassist Bobb Bruno and drummer Ali Koehner, but there is no mistaking that this is purely Cosentino's show. Her voice is Crazy For You's best aspect, as it has this fantastic mix of passion and malaise that seems to ebb and flow with her guitar for some dream-like head-bopping. Based on Crazy For You, Cosentino's life is pretty simple; she can't find that boy she's been wanting, her cat can't talk, the fact that "crazy" rhymes with "lazy" is a godsend, and her honey is, well, I'll let you figure that out. But it's all put into such a fantastic-sounding package, that most lyrical flubs are forgiven. As with any lo-fi artist, some musical aspects literally get lost in the mix. "The End" is the only song where I hear any bass, and you always know there is drumming going on, but the album could lack it entirely, and you wouldn't notice. The guitar fills in the spaces not occupied by Cosentino's voice, of which there is sometimes none. Cosentino's voice is extremely capable of carrying the album, though, making for a very complete release despite some obvious limitations.


If Cosentino is Lizzie from Lizzie McGuire (random analogy I know), then Nathan Williams of Wavves is her brother, Matt. While Cosentino is only concerned with boy troubles, Williams has a little more depth. Sure, he's got girl troubles, but, on King of the Beach, he writes about other things, like not giving a shit, how his friends suck and wanting to go surfing. The music of King of the Beach also has more variety. Bass is present throughout, a hip-hop-like thumping appears a couple times and there are a few more drumfills. Tempos go a little faster more often, and Nathan sounds like Tom Delong when he says "understand" in "Post Acid".


So even though Wavves made the more varied and, honestly, mature, effort, Best Coast has managed to make the better album. I believe this has less to do with Williams' shortcomings and more to do with the fact that Cosentino does what she does so well that it's hard to compete with an artist that plays a niche so well. Both King of the Beach and Crazy For You are portraits of normal people who use the summer for escape, and both albums are escapism at its best. In his words, Wavves is an idiot and, in mine, Best Coast is naive, but both have made excellently flawed material that at the very least gets the job done, even if I may not be listening to it as frequently next month.

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Rick Ross - Teflon Don: B-



I have never heard a rapper embody exhaustion quite like Rick Ross. The moment the man appears on any track of Teflon Don, it sounds like he's been on a week-long rapping bender right up to that point, and is attacking the track with the vigor of a death wish. The best moments of Ross's new album are when he plays into that exasperated ethos, rapping hysterically over stubbornly unchanging beats that revolve around ascending key changes.


To Ross's credit, Teflon Don's second half does just that, moving from certified trunk-rattler, "No. 1" through string-laden "MC Hammer" and its doppelganger, "B.M.E. (Blowin' Money Fast)" to the Drake-assisted "Aston Martin Music". However, the approach proves to be a catch-22, because, with so much nonstop hustlin', the album begins to sound like gansta overkill.


Variance is essential, and the songs of Teflon Don that provide it are extremely hit-and-miss. The self-depreciating humor of the Kanye West-produced "Live Fast Die Young" wouldn't sound out of place on The College Dropout (sample lyric: "They say we can't be livin' like this for the rest of out lives / Well, we gon' be livin' like this for the rest of tonight") while "I Got a Bitch" capitalizes on an uninspired "Pimpin' All Over the County" premise and features one of the most half-assed choruses I have heard in my lifetime. "Super High" and "I'm Not a Star" both feature by-the-numbers production cliches, but, where the former relies on a bland R&B/rap hybrid, the latter plays to Ross's aforementioned strengths, to enjoyable effect. The cinematic scope of "Maybach Music III" fits T.I. and Jadakiss's guest spots, perfectly, but Gucci Mane's slow drawl is hilariously out of place on the sonically relentless "MC Hammer".


Lyrically, Ross is just as inconsistent. Other than a few scattershot lines, the man is only particularly quotable on "Free Mason" (sample lyric: "Right now I could rewrite history / I stopped writing so fuck it I'll do it mentally"). His performance overall is pretty unremarkable and can sour easily, like when he unleashes his tone-deaf singing voice on closer, "Money in the World".


The best of Teflon Don ("Live Fast Die Young", "No.1", "I'm Not a Star") can prove to be extremely effective party fodder for the playlist that will accompany whatever is left of your summer. The rest is fine for occasional listens, but would be greatly aided by some serious editing and a more potent lyrical presence. Ross has been on somewhat of a career arc since his first album, so there's a chance he can still improve his craft and finally make a lean product. For, now, treat Teflon Don as another transitory step and take the good tracks and run.

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Curren$y - Pilot Talk: B+




The first time I heard Curren$y was in his guest spot on "No Wheaties" from Big K.R.I.T.'s debut album, K.R.I.T. Wuz Here. I really enjoyed that verse, the sports-related specificity interesting coming from a voice that sounded like it had no intention of leaving bed let alone picking up a football. So when I heard Curren$y was going to be releasing his debut album, I was intrigued, but was skeptical of whether he could pull off a full album of material playing off such a lazy ethos.


No matter what you think of Pilot Talk, there is no denying that Curren$y succeeds in maintaining his lethargic persona throughout the album's thirteen tracks. In fact, it often sounds like Pilot Talk was recorded directly from the man's couch, rhymes spit in between games of Madden '09. "Some of the good things weed can do," he says in the beginning of "Breakfast" and it is clear that Curren$y believes there is no such thing as too much of a good thing. The man's monotone can get so unwavering, it's often difficult to distinguish between verses and choruses. Overall, it's a pretty effective strategy. However, I will say that the moment a guest appears on Pilot Talk with any semblance of ardor (Snoop Dogg, Devin the Dude), they immediately overshadow Curren$y no matter how hard the guy tries to be spirited in his apathy.


Ultimately, the best of Pilot Talk is when Curren$y breaks his chemically-induced repose. "I'm so sorry if I don't look happy to be here," he raps in what would be his equivalent of a scowl on "The Day", "In your label office, but they say I can't smoke weed here." Hey, in this case, the ends justify the means, and if Curren$y is so eloquent roasted, I can only imagine what he's capable of fumed.

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Miniature Tigers - Fortress: B



Chamber pop artists have begun to form a symbiotic relationship lately. First, we had Grizzly Bear bassist, Chris Taylor, producing The Morning Benders' new album and now that band's frontman, Chris Chu, mans the boards for the second album by this Arizonan group. This information is critical to the understanding of Fortress, because it seems, at every turn, the album sonically borrows far too liberally from its producer's mainstay, and, ultimately, fails to carve out a definitive path for the band that made it. Not to say that Fortress is a bad album. I just found it incredibly frustrating how few times I could find a sound on Fortress I couldn't immediately trace back to The Morning Benders.


Reverberating percussion tumbles, harmonies disperse and, for the most part, Miniature Tigers go through the motions as they tentatively transitions from mid-tempo strummer to slightly less mid-tempo strummer. The best moments of Fortress are the ones that surprise, and there are only three moments where that genuinely happens. The first is in the piano interlude that begins "Lolita" before the band descends into business as usual. The second is the song title, "The Japanese Woman That Lives in My Closet", whose actual song doesn't come remotely close to living up to such a brilliantly ridiculous title (but, to be fair, only a clever black metal band could flesh out a song that would exploit that song's potential, properly.). The third is "Coyote Enchantment", whose female chanting of the title's first half is wistful, but, more, importantly, fun. I like the way the song's synth stabs puncture the album's omnipresent reverb, and it's a break in form that is much appreciated, even if it inspires more laughter than awe.


Fortress finds Miniature Tigers wearing their Shins and Morning Benders influence prominently on their sleeves, but the band has neither the harrowing vocal presence nor the believable sincerity of either. The band would be better served if they took more risks akin to the last couple tracks of Fortress. After all, we don't want to water down the mix too badly for the band that Miniature Tigers will inevitably produce in the future.

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Stam1na - Viimeinen Atlantis: A



Stam1na make terrible music videos. Coincidentally, they've made one of the best metal albums of the year. Go figure.

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Yeasayer - Odd Blood: A-




Somehow, Yeasayer became the most polarizing band of the year. Although they don't so much as hold a candle up to last year's reigning champion (Ga ga ooh la la) there was something about the band's sophomore album, Odd Blood that was a revelation to some and got under the skin of others. Based on that rating up there, you can tell I'm in the former camp, and, I'll be honest, I don't see why so many have problems with the album. Pitchfork takes any chance it gets when they cover the band's performances at festivals to comment on how bad first track, "The Children" is, Ian Cohen going as far as to say that it is "a prime candidate for the worst song of any major indie act in 2010", but I find the so-called "robo-fart voice thing" to be a pretty good song and a suitably strange introduction to a suitably strange album.


The rest is all excellent, but there are a few missteps when certain genre acrobatics don't quite fit right. However, I don't believe Odd Blood deserves all the intense derision it has received since its release. Chris Keating has a knack for housing this energy in his voice that can sound elegiacally passionate at times and voice-crackingly fervent at others. The album's songs have varying degrees of weirdness, but a bass-driven funk prevails throughout, always keeping you grounded in the familiar when the treble gets a little overwhelming. It's all recommended listening if only to see what all the fuss is about. After that point, Odd Blood will no doubt have you rooting for one side, and I hope it's mine. Eh, it's better than watching Twilight.

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