Album Reviews: Elway, Rural Alberta Advantage, One AM Radio

I get choked up just thinking about this clip.

Elway
Delusions

I’ll admit it. The only reason I checked out this Colorado band was because they’re named after my favorite Denver Broncos quarterback. The fact that the band delivers a solid debut album is just an added bonus. The strength of “Delusions” rests in its looseness. Elway churns out barroom punk rock in the vein of Hot Water Music or early Alkaline Trio, propelled by gruff vocals and catchy hooks. Though the record walks a path littered with broken hearts, the gang-vocal “whoa-oh-ohs” give an undeniable hope that everything is going to be okay. “Delusions” may not be wildly inventive, but still makes a great first impression.

For fans of: Lawrence Arms, Gaslight Anthem
Rating: 3 of 4
Check out: Passing Days (YouTube)
(And don't forget to watch the magical moment of "The Drive" by John Elway himself, shown above.)

Rural Alberta Advantage
Departing

A good band name should give a hint of what kind of music you play (see Megadeth, Sonic Youth, Geto Boys). True to its name, Rural Alberta Advantage gives off an earthy feel, but not in a Fleet Foxes, we-are-the-forest kind of way. “Departing” sounds more like a Bob Dylan record-- if he were to hole up in a cabin to make a dance record. The album is driven by a palpable tension between the vocals and the music--a singer who sounds like he should be accompanied by a banjo and a jaw harp, but instead fronts a band where the drums jump on the upbeat, xylophones plink joyously, and synthesizers sneak around in the background. It should be a mess, but somehow it makes perfect sense.

For fans of: Fleet Foxes, AA Bondy
Rating: 3 of 4
Check out: Under the Knife (YouTube)

The One AM Radio
Heaven Is Attached by a Slender Thread

Analog synths. Horns. Handclaps. “Heaven Is Attached by a Slender Thread” has all the makings of a typical dance record. But The One AM Radio doesn’t really do typical. Despite the upbeat ingredients, band leader Hrishikesh Hirway drenches the collection in lyrical melancholy. Somehow, the sadness just can’t compete with the persistent bounce. The album’s best track, “Plans,” ricochets off the walls like The Postal Service and “In a City without Seasons” feels like it was and conceived on the beach at sunset. There are brief moments with the music matches the solemnity of the message (see “The Heat”) but for the most part, despite his frowny face, Hirway can’t keep his feet from dancing.

For fans of: Hot Chip, Styrofoam
Rating: 3.5 of 4
Check out: Plans (YouTube)

Simpsons of the Day: Mr. Burns on Ether

Curtis Gets His First Tattoo

(Or view the video here.)

Much like with any tattoo, he regretted it just minutes later. 

Curtis: Three Year Old

Paige: Five Years Old

Tate: Three-and-a-Half Months

Song of the Day: The Naked and Famous - Young Blood

I'm a sucker for music that makes me feel like I am in high school, about to embark upon the most important night of my life.

This is ironic because in high school, the most important night of my life may have been the time Matt Slivka and I (the two un-muscle-i-est guys at MHS) decided to go to ShopKo and buy our first-ever wife beater tanktops and wear them around the SugarHouse Movies 9 on a cold January night.

How's that for a music video idea?

The Grilled Cheese Incident

Curtis. Always mildly disgusting.


Curtis refuses to eat grilled cheese sandwiches. He will, however, eat "boy cheese sandwiches."

Me: Who wants a grilled cheese?

Curtis: I don't want a girl cheese. I want a boy cheese sandwich.

Luckily, the recipes are pretty similar (I just have to mix in a few more monster trucks and construction vehicles.

The Return of the Little Firecracker

Curtis and Tate are almost exactly three years apart. Here's a little comparison of the two at three months old - wearing the same shirt and enjoying the 4th of July parade in Murray (the pics also serve as an evolution of Traci's little sister Makell).

Curtis is obviously a bit chunkier and I forget how red his hair was when we he was a little guy

Thankfully, Tate is more mellow than the other two have been.

The Rock 'n Roll Photo Pass: Demystified

Two feet away from CAKE's John McCrea

One of the perks of being a barely-paid music critic is that I get to go to a lot of shows for free. When I work with a band's publicist on a concert preview, they usually ask if I want to be on "the list" for the show. When people think of the list, they immediately imagine Wayne and Garth hanging out backstage with Alice Cooper.

Alas, nay. (Though I did get to hang out on Streetlight Manifesto's bus once. Coolest. Experience. Ever.)

It just means that I show up at the venue and say to the ticket person or whoever, "I'm on the list." They find my name -  on an actual list - and let me in without paying. While this sounds great, about every fourth time, my name hasn't really made it to the list, which results in no small amount of awkwardness, especially if I've brought a friend with me.

Sometimes I'm also offered a photo pass. If asked in advance, I say I don't need one. The reason is two fold:

1. I just have a crappy little point-and-shoot camera and I'd feel dumb standing up on the stage taking photos with it. 
2. I have no idea what such a pass entitles me to. Do I go on stage? Do I poke around in front of the band? Do I hold my pass up (again, a la Wayne's World) and work my way to the front of the crowd?

 So when I'm given a press pass at the door, I just stick it on my shirt (to look cool) and do nothing with it.

At the CAKE show a few weeks back, I was handed a pass. I decided to finally be a man and take some pictures. I bravely walked up to a security guy standing by the stage and said, "Where can I go with this photo pass?"

He looked blankly at me and shrugged his shoulders.

Eventually, another lady come up and said, "You can take pictures at the front of the stage for the first three songs."

So I did. I stood in front of the lounging-on-the-grass crowd at Red Butte garden and pretended like I knew what I was doing. Not looking like an idiot became more difficult once I was standing next to a photographer from SLUG magazine, who did know what he was doing. But I hung in there.

For about 90 seconds.

About halfway through the first song, I had taken a dozen or so pictures, which seemed like more than enough. I went back to seat, successfully having overcome my oh-so-life-threatening fear of photo passes. I am a changed man.

One of my photos is above. The SLUG guy's pics are here. I feel like I held my own.

Why I Am the Best Dad Ever, According to Paige

"Because you reach down my toys when they're up high."

A Beautiful Mind, Anyone?

This is what Paige has done to the walls in her room. At this point, it's adorable. If she starts seeing messages in the pictures, it will be frightening.

Very Much a Redhead

And we still like him.

Paige's Day of Pentecost

I've mentioned that Paige isn't always big on church. Maybe tonight was the turnaround.

In the parking lot at Lowe's [unprovoked]:

Paige: Parents are not the boss anymore. No parents of any families are the boss. There is only one boss over the whole world. And that's Jesus!

Testify, sister!

I have a feeling that this has less to do with any religious conviction than with the fact that she refuses to accept that Traci or I should be able to tell her what to do.

On Sunday she said to me, "Dad, YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME! I'm the boss because I'm the most beautiful one.

If she's already figure that out at age 5, what chance do I stand?

Death Cab for Cutie - Codes and Keys

Death Cab for Cutie
Codes and Keys

Remember The OC? You know, with Marissa Cooper’s self-destructive tendencies and Ryan Atwood’s endless insecurities about growing up in Chino? And who could forget Seth Cohen, the lovable hipster with a passion for comic books and Death Cab for Cutie?

A lot has changed for Death Cab since they made an onscreen appearance on The OC, playing a gig at the show’s fictitious club, the Bait Shop, in 2005. Back then, Death Cab was a band who had earned a Seth Cohen-esque fan base by touring endless in a pre-MP3 Blog world. But they were also a band in transition--counting down the days to their major label debut and clearly on the verge of something much bigger.

If you ask me, 2003’s ”Transatlanticism” was the band’s high-water mark. The songwriting was miles beyond its LP predecessors, yet the endearing roughness remained, like Ben Gibbard’s warbly tenor or the fuzzed-out studio experimentation. Not to mention that it included two of the best songs in the band’s catalog--the title track and the heartbreaking “A Lack of Color.”

After such a strong release, fans were poised to disdain their first big budget release, “Plans.” But it didn’t happen. It couldn’t happen. The looseness of early records had disappeared, but the songwriting was stronger than ever before and the production was painstakingly perfect.

Given all of the effort to make “Plans” a masterpiece, it’s not surprising that 2008’s “Narrow Stairs” headed in the opposite direction. Filled with rock ‘n roll abandon, it was a guitar album, fueled by some of the darkest lyrics Gibbard has ever written.

In 2011, things feel a bit more sunny in the Death Cab camp. Gibbard is now a married man and alcohol-free. Their new record, “Codes and Keys,” is the most upbeat in years. Beats skip along wistfully, like a band in love (“You are a Tourist”). At times, it’s all the Gibbard can do to not start dancing (“Some Boys”). Even tracks that are less immediate (“Doors Wide Open,” “Unobstructed Views”) still deliver a rewarding punch.

Much like “Transatlanticism,” “Codes and Keys” strikes a beautiful balance between traditional arrangements and studio embellishment; it would not be surprising to hear these songs played on an a piano or an acoustic guitar, but the layers of synths and noise give the tracks an added depth.

Somewhere, the writers of The OC are huddled together, trying to figure out how to bring the show back to life, just so Seth Cohen can tell the world how much he likes this record.

For fans of: Modest Mouse, Franz Ferdinand
Rating: 3.5 of 4

This is Week in Film: Curtis Edition

As usual, Curtis came home from the library yesterday with a stack of DVDs.

"Curtis, what movies did you get," I asked.

He stands at the top of the stairs and holds one DVD high above his head. It is impossible not to see the pride in his stance as he displays it.

I glance at the title, then read it aloud "Mighty Sanitation Machines?!"

"Garbage trucks," he replies.

The boy loves his garbage trucks.

This Week's Music, Fleet Foxes, The Naked and Famous, Reaganomics

Fleet Foxes
Helplessness Blues

Though he’s only in his 20s, Fleet Foxes singer and leader Robin Pecknold is an old soul. His band’s sound echoes former times, channeling the folk of Simon and Garfunkel and paying homage to the intricate harmonies of the Beach Boys. While the group’s debut LP was an ode to the majesty of the forest and the sun, Pecknold turns inward on “Helplessness Blues.” His wanderings are filled with introspective questions, as he ponders both his youth (“Now I am older than my mother and father/When they had their daughter/Now what does that say about me?”) and his eventual death (“I woke up one morning/All my fingers rotten/I woke up a dying man without a chance”). The music matches the weightiness of the subject matter and every note is perfectly placed—lush harmonies, finger-picked guitar melodies, and Pecknold’s soaring tenor.  Having successfully reached the top of the mountain, it’s hard to see where Fleet Foxes will go from here. 

For fans of: Simon and Garfunkel, Bon Iver

Rating: 3.5 of 4
Check out: Montezuma

The Naked and Famous
Passive Me, Aggressive You

These New Zealand electro-rockers are a sneaky bunch. Their outstanding, ultra-dancey lead single “Punching in a Dream” would lead you to believe that the group is nothing more than a well-polished, hook-heavy pop group. While that would be enough, their debut record offers up even more. Dueling boy-girl vocalists Thom Powers and Alisa Xayalith are equally adept at getting dark and moody (“Frayed,” “The Sun”). And just when you think they might drown in their ‘80s goth-inspired angst, they come back with another dreamy bounce-along (“Young Blood”) that should become the soundtrack for every teenage soap opera. Here’s to a solid debut and plenty of unexpected surprises.

For fans of: the xx, Tegan and Sara

Rating: 3.5 of 4
Check out: Young Blood

Reaganomics
Lower the Bar

Metal-punk trio Ryan's Hope were trying to make a record when they decided to take a break from taking themselves so serious. They kicked the tempo up a few hundred beats per second and unleashed every junior high joke they could remember. The result is “Lower the Bar,” a record that is equal parts NoFX and stand-up comedy. Other than a few outliers, each song track clocks in at under 90 seconds. The band masterfully tackles pressing social such as programming on The WB, Ed Hardy t-shirts, and Robocop. The songs are catchy, slightly stupid, and perfect for the pit.

For fans of: NoFX, Rancid

Rating: 3 of 4
Check out: Don't Worry, We'll Play First

Tate, Lady Killer

Either people in San Diego have never seen a baby (maybe), or Tate is, in fact, the cutest little guy in the world (probably).

Traci and Tate accompanied me to a work conference in San Diego last week, and Tate was all the rage. From the second we stepped in the airplane, the little guy was getting compliments left and right. Including, but not limited to, the stewardess staring lovingly at him while performing her safety spiel and then asking me if I'd needed her to burp him. Seriously.

After Curtis' meltdown on the plane ride home from Disneyland, I wasn't sure I would ever fly with one of our kids again.  But Tate was a masterful traveler, quietly having a bottle on the way there and sleeping the entire flight back.

The idea behind taking Traci and Tate was to give Traci a little break from chasing around all three kids. Of course, the second we got in San Diego, all we could think about were the things we wanted to show Paige and Curtis. Oh, the guilt.

But those two couldn't have been happier with their time with each of the grandmas and all of the cousins. The morning after we got home, Curtis woke up and said, "Which grandma's are we going to today?"

Maybe we'll go on more vacations without them.

Enjoying the sun at the San Diego Zoo

Wrestling with the pillows

Zonked out while we ate Mexican food in Old Town

Things I Ate at Squatter's Tonight

1. Chicken pizza
2. Beef sliders
3. Mini sausages
4. Pita and hummus
5. Ribs
6. Little taquitos
7. Blackberry tart

My digestive system may never forgive me. (But everything was so delicious.)

Review: Beastie Boys

Beastie Boys
Hot Sauce Committee, Pt. 2

Did I miss something? Where did the “Hot Sauce Committee, Pt. 2” come from? I didn’t even know there was a Pt. 1.

It turns out the band played a fast one on me. (Or maybe a slow one.) The Beasties were planning on releasing a two-part “Hot Sauce” series until Adam Yauch was diagnosed with cancer in 2009. While he recovered, the New York City trio retooled the project, releasing it as just one disc. (You can find Pt. 1 as an import, but before you shell out the extra $20 bucks, you should know it’s almost exactly the same as Pt. 2.)

For most artist, a two-year delay would certainly kill a record. Not so for the Beastie Boys. Like all their records, “Hot Sauce” exists in a strange time warp, somewhere between 1985 and outerspace.

The Beastie Boys have never felt obliged to fit into a definable category. Over the past 25 years, the groups has done pretty much done whatever they’ve wanted. Obnoxious hip-hop (“License to Ill”)? Sure. An eight-song punk rock EP (“Aglio e Olio”) that clocks in at 11 minutes? Why not. An ‘80s throwback album (“To the 5 Boroughs”) followed by a an instrumental record (“The Mix-Up”). Of course.

While each of those records had a very specific flavor, “Hot Sauce” is more reminiscent of “Check Your Head,” when all those various styles got dropped in a blender. The record starts on a high note with the funky “Make Some Noise” and the robotic “Ok.” It gets even better when they make room for a rare guest appearance, inviting fellow New Yorker Nas to add some bite to the attacking “Too Many Rappers.”

While the trio have kept with the same rhyme patterns since their early days (who else can still get away with using lines like “Let me introduce myself, I’m Ad-Rock?”), their music never stays in the same place. “Say It” sounds like a cover of Onyx’s 1993 hit “Slam” and “Don’t Play No Game” finds the group on a tropical island with Santogold.

“Hot Sauce” is wildly uneven. Things get murky in the middle third (the fuzzy “Long Burn the Fire,” the warbly “Tadlock’s Glasses”) and there are a few misses (“Crazy A%% S*&%”). But that’s a small price to pay for a record that is willing to take risks without taking itself too seriously.



For fans of: Run-DMC, Rage Against the Machine
Rating: 3 of 4
Check out: Make Some Noise (Vevo)