Faulty Fidelity

Girls - “Honey Bunny” (2011)

After putting Girls’ last release, 2010’s Broken Dreams Club EP, on heavy rotation, I began to question whether Girls’ peculiar brand of pop nostalgia would grow stale. Not that Broken Dreams Club wasn’t a magnificent record, per se; rather, I was worried that Girls would never be able to keep up their nearly immaculate winning streak.

Lo and behlod, if “Honey Bunny” is any indication, the streak appears to be continuing on their newest record, Father, Son, Holy Ghost. “Honey Bunny” jangles along with the tinges of surf music that one would expect from Girls. And, of course, Chris Owens’ voice steals the show once again. Seriously, the guy could sing names from a phone book and invoke a million emotions.

Unlike previous Father, Son, Holy Ghost single “Vomit,” “Honey Bunny” is bright and cheery in a way that recalls Girls’ best material (“Lust for Life,” in particular), while Owens continues his optimistic down-on-his-luck loser persona. One would think that it’d get tiring to hear song after song of oh-shucks lyrics, but Owens’ persona is far too likable to truly generate anything but empathetic smiles.

“I know you love me for all the reasons everyone hates me,” could be benign and banal in the hands of less competent writers, but in the hands of Owen, it’s a cute moment of gleeful cheeriness that Girls never fail to deliver.

Off of Girls’ new record, Father, Son, Holy Ghost, out Sept 13.

The Weeknd – Thursday

7.8

When The Weeknd’s breakout mixtape, House of Balloons, dropped in March, it was considered an out-of-left field enigma partly because of the veil of mystery surrounding its mysterious creator. After the release of House of Balloons, The Weeknd was quickly lapped up as a critical darling, nabbing a Polaris Music Prize nomination and rave reviews from nearly every music publication willing to give the low-profile release the light of day.

Amidst all the hype and publicity, Toronto-based musician Abel Tesfay has stepped forward to claim his title as mastermind behind the stunning debut mixtape that courted the attention of hip-hop superstar Drake and brought him to the forefront of the R&B world.

Now, with the world watching his next move, Tesfay has chosen to release his follow-up effort, Thursday, for free download on his website – his personal gift to his ever-growing fanbase.

Rest assured, Thursday is a good album (I hesitate to call The Weeknd’s output ‘mixtapes’ because their visions are too fully formed to be called anything less than albums) that carries all the trademarks that made House of Balloons a hit – the ominously dark down-tempo percussion, the surreal lyrical hedonism, and, of course, Tesfay’s remarkable R&B croon.

But Thursday also raises another question about House of Balloons in hindsight: was it a truly great album, or was it simply a good R&B album that rode the hype machine and conquered critics with its mysterious nature?

Thursday suggests both; the album is roughly the same level of quality as its predecessor, and yet Tesfay, stripped of the abilities to spin tales under anonymity and toy with the listener’s suspension of disbelief, is somehow marginally less exciting. Everyone who downloads Thursday knows exactly what they’re getting into, and the album is all the more predictable for that reason. Still, Tesfay’s emergence as a public figure doesn’t necessitate a decrease in quality in music – Thursday speaks volumes about the sharp increase in production ability that Tesfay has acquired since March.

Thursday’s biggest accomplishment is in expanding the scope of The Weeknd’s production while maintaining the distinctly sinister style that marks Tesfay’s music. Everything is simply bigger, more elaborate, and more complex, all without sacrificing the attention to atmosphere that made The Weeknd so fascinating. Thursday, just like House of Balloons, paints The Weeknd as the lecherous, almost predatory, anti-hero of self-contained world in which depravity and hedonistic pleasure is the ultimate goal of the citizens of The Weeknd’s mind. Drake guests on “The Zone,” where he drops a perfectly adequate verse that fits surprisingly well into the self-enclosed bubble that The Weeknd had strived so hard to create.

But other than that, this is clearly The Weeknd’s show; Tesfay’s voice and posturing is the main attraction, with the production simply complimenting the storytelling process. Ultimately, Thursday, is a worthy follow-up to the critically lauded oddity that House of Balloons has become, regardless of the shock value lost in the transition. Tesfay may be stepping out from behind the curtain, but, if Thursday is any indication, The Weeknd is just beginning.

Thursday is available for free download now at The Weeknd’s website.

Talking Heads - “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)” (1983)

Sometimes I listen to a song and wish it was recorded in the modern day. How awesome would opening drum thumps of The Ronettes’ “Be My Baby” sound in hi-fi? Wouldn’t Elvis Costello’s hooks sound that much punchier with some studio wizardry?

When I first heard Talking Heads’ 1983 song “This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody),” I was skeptical of the dated keyboard swirls; I had the vague notion that the song would sound better if the band had modern equipment at their disposal. Nobody today would touch the keyboard tones that pepper this song. I’d imagine that there’s gotta be a once-hip father out there who has tried to play this in the car, only to be met with something akin to “Daaad, this is so 80s!” before the radio is promptly turned on and the latest dance tracks fill the car, courtesy of the likes of Ke$ha.

It’s a shame, really, because the band really melded the keyboards, guitars, bass, and drums of this song into an unstoppable groove that could stand toe-to-toe with their modern-day pseudo-counterparts LCD Soundsystem. The mid-tempo rhythm is continually punctured by flourishes, each one more pleasant and more exciting than the last.

First there’s those keyboard lines, which seem to weave in and out of the song like dancers hidden among the stiffness of the rhythm section. Then there’s David Byrne’s voice, which is piercing and striking in a way that can evoke a million emotions at once. By the time he works his way through a few verses (singing beautifully endearing non-sequiturs the whole way through) his voice has risen out of the mix and ends the song with a climatic — almost angelic — “a-woooo.”

And all that comes without even discussing the lyrics. Articulating love sits nicely on the more difficult end of the spectrum of human action, but “This Must Be the Place” does it — over and over again. You could chop the lyrics up into single lines and couplets, drop them in a bag, and find that each one is strangely beautiful in its own way. When matched with the fervor in Bryne’s voice and that incredible groove, the lines come to life with a surprising level of emotion for a song that features repetition so strongly.

So, yes, this song sounds straight out of the early 80s, but it also packs more emotional punch than nearly any song I’ve heard in the years. Hell, you can even dance to it — pop/dance music with emotion being a bit of an anomaly these days — what more can you ask for? Newer keyboards? Nah, that’d just ruin it’s eternally vintage charm.

Off of their 1983 album, Speaking in Tongues.

M83 - “Midnight City” (2011)

I have this weird habit of calling the city of Phoenix a “sprawl” whenever I describe it to people from outside of Arizona. I’m not even sure if that’s the best descriptor for the city, but it just makes sense to me. It’s big, it’s vast, it almost seems endless at times. It’s a city that’s monolithic in a different sense than a place like New York City. In Phoenix, sheer scope seems to triumph over compact utilitarianism.

M83’s latest single, “Midnight City” is also a sprawl in the same sense of the word. Within seconds, the opening synthesizers wrap their warm arms around the listener and project a perfect city skyline into the sky. The grandiose soundscape is punctuated by a hook consisting of a undecipherable yelp in the night — the lifeblood of the cityscape.

M83’s last album, Saturdays = Youth, was about the suburbs. It was about growing up and being a teenager the way John Hughes thought adolescence worked.  If “Midnight City” is any indicator, M83’s newest LP will move to the city and shoot for something bigger. It makes perfect sense, too; Anthony Gonzalez’s music has always been about searching for something bigger than what we see around us. “Midnight City” is ultimately about more than any city (even Phoenix) — it’s about looking for that perfect midnight where everything is magic.

“Midnight City” appears on M83’s Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming out October 18.

The Black Lips - “New Direction” (2011)

Right now, the fact that summer is ending is completely and wholly depressing. In a few weeks, I’ll be parting ways with the long days where anything seems possible when you’ve got a few good friends, a killer playlist, and a car with the windows rolled down.

It’s a feeling perhaps best articulated by The Black Lips. The Lips’ latest LP, Arabia Mountain, has completely dominated my summer listening habits since I saw the ramshackle ensemble last month at the Rhythm Room. It’s an album that’s slightly better produced then their previous efforts, but it never quite loses the irreverent feeling that has always characterized the group’s garage rock motif.

“New Direction,” the first single from the album, jangles along with a waltz that suggests a mixture of flippancy and utter joy. The song opens with a proclamation — ”Going on a vision quest, surf the mountain, ride the crest” — that it maintains throughout; the guitars roll with a tone that suggests that the song was meant to be played in the background of surf videos or on boardwalks, while the drums patter along with a shabby persistence. “New Direction” is loose, fun, and it insinuates an age-old phrase synonymous with summer — party or die.

“New Direction” appears on The Black Lips’ Arabia Mountain, out now.

Dom - “Damn” (2011)

Dom is summer. I know that’s a pretty bold claim to make, but they’ve been dominating my summer playlist for two years running now with their brand of lo-fi sunny pop hooks.

Last year they won me over with “Living in America,” a sorta-maybe ironic ode to all things American. And now they’re back with “Damn,” a song that’s somehow found a way to be even more sunny and summery than the rest of the band’s brief discography.

But “Damn” isn’t as one-track minded as a song like “Living in America.” Rather than going for gleeful celebration, “Damn” works off a wistful, more urgent tone. It’s introspective, as far as Dom songs go, and it’s undeniably sweet — even with a hook like “I don’t care / I don’t care / about anyone else I know.”

Dom’s new EP titled Family Of Love is out August 9th.

Elliott Smith - “Say Yes” (1997) (Live from 1998)

Can we all just stop and agree that “I’m in love with the world / through the eyes of a girl,” as sung in “Say Yes” is one of the most touching moments in the history of song?

“Say Yes” has always been one of my favorite songs. Smith is in love, but he’s not naive; he’s scared and upset but he knows that everything is going to be all right because of a girl. And really, the greatest comfort in the world is knowing someone will stick by your side “the morning after” and maybe forever.

This live version from 1998 brings the late great Elliott Smith’s whispery-thin voice and sentimental croon to the forefront. “Say Yes” originally appeared on 1997’s Either/Or.

The Smiths - “There is a Light That Never Goes Out” (1986)

And if a double-decker bus
Crashes in to us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well the pleasure, the privilege is mine

It’s kind of ironic that a song about how dying is fine makes me love life so much. At least Morrissey knows that being young can be morbid as hell sometimes.

Last Thursday was the 25th anniversary of this song’s parent album, The Queen is Dead.

Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks - “Senator” (2011)

Stephen Malkmus’ Wikipedia article begins with the following statement:

Stephen Joseph Malkmus (born May 30, 1966)^[1] is an indie rock musician and an indie rock icon and a member of the band Pavement.

It kind of makes me question what exactly a guy needs to do to be listed as an “indie rock icon” on Wikipedia. Either way, I guess Malkmus deserves the title; I mean, he did create some of the greatest albums of the 90s while in Pavement.

Anyways, Malkmus dropped a new track with his band The Jicks called “Senator,” and it sounds very much like Pavement (it’s also quite apropos considering the Anthony Weiner scandal). “Senator” rolls along with its tongue in its cheek and its eyes knowingly winking.

“Senator” appears on Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks’ Mirror Traffic, out August 23rd and produced by Beck.