GRAMMY Nominations Reaction

So the Grammy Nominations were this week.

I am not impressed.

I've decided that the Recording Academy is really no expert of any kind because if it was, it wouldn't have nominated about half of the things it did.

Okay, that's probably not fair. I actually can't speak with any authority on most of the categories. Really the only place I feel like my opinion has any weight to it is in the "Album Of The Year" category. So let's talk about that.

The nominees: "21" by Adele, "Loud" by Rihanna, "Born This Way" by Lady Gaga, "Wasting Light" by Foo Fighters, and "Doo-Wops & Hooligans" by Bruno Mars.

The way I see it, two of these deserve the nod: "21" and "Born This Way". "21" was musically and sonically amazing, and Adele puts more energy and soul into her songs than anybody else. "Born This Way" is a thematic and artistic masterpiece. I would have nominated these two albums, and I applaud the Academy for those picks.

But that's it. The rest of these have no business being anywhere near the podium. "Wasting Light" is good, not great. Very little diversity of sound and seemingly rote songwriting make it more a collection of decent songs than an album. "Loud" (aside from not being released this year, another gripe with the Grammys) had two hits and bunch of mediocre filler songs. Two hits does not a Grammy make. "Doo-Wops & Hooligans" (also from 2010) had one hit. None of these albums had any musical or thematic flow, and what sonic diversity there was was misplaced.

I've decided that instead of griping about the nominees that we do have, I'm going to talk about the nominees we should have had. Here are some albums/artists that I think deserve mention:

1) Foster The People. "Torches" might be the best album released this year. At least, it's in my top five. There are no bad songs. Period. Mark Foster is a songwriting genius. The entire album is produced beautifully. The album artwork is fantastic. The music blends pop and rock into a new* breed to alternative, a breed which will be growing in the future. The fact that "Torches" received one nomination and Kanye received seven is criminal, and it shows a fundamental immaturity amongst the Academy.

2) Blind Pilot. Okay, I didn't really think they'd get a Grammy nomination. But wouldn't it be nice? "We Are The Tide" is another great album from this year, and speaking musically I think it is the most impressive. It's relatively easy to layer electronic sounds over each other to make a pop song. It is comparatively difficult to to the same with acoustic (and at times archaic) instruments. Blind Pilot did it with near perfection this year, and I think they deserve big-stage credit.

3) Arctic Monkeys. Yeah, yeah, they aren't about to be big-time Grammy nominees either. But "Suck It And See" was a really good album from every angle. The lyrics were insightful and enjoyable, bordering on funny. The music was well-written, not too complicated but interesting. The sound was recognizable but mature. Arctic Monkeys are a great band that released their best album yet, an album that was easily better than half of the year's AOTY nominees.

4) Joe Bonamassa. I think my measuring stick for when the Grammys have their shit together will be when they nominate Joe Bonamassa. He is (in my somewhat knowledgeable opinion) one of the best guitarists alive today. He released his NINTH (he's 34, that's a lot) studio album "Dust Bowl" this year. He consistently sells out mid-sized venues around the world. His band (ahem... SUPERGROUP) Black Country Communion released it's second album this year as well, and he also released a collaboration with Beth Hart. Three albums in one year on top of a touring schedule. They guy is a machine, and I will not put any stock in the Grammys unless and until they give him a nod.

Okay... That's most of what I want to talk about. I do know for a fact that there are good albums that have been released or that are soon to be released that are not eligible for these Grammys. Which makes me a little mad. I understand that you need time to decide everything, but I still think it's stupid to disallow pretty much a quarter of the year's releases (the cutoff is September 30) from the year's awards. It's also stupid to allow albums from last year compete against albums from this year. "Loud" and "Doo-Wops & Hooligans" were from 2010. They shouldn't be invading the 2011 awards (or any awards, they are not good albums).

I think I'm going to do my own awards show at the end of the year. It will include albums from 2011. I will decide what categories to include, but I'm thinking there will just be a few (Best Album, Best Song, Best Album Art, Best Lyrics, etc.). I will also probably have "Worst Album" and "Most Disappointing Album" categories. I feel like that's an equally important aspect of music that the Grammys fail to recognize.

Alright, that's everything I have... sorry again for being such a fail with videos. Let me know if you have anything to say about/contribute to my thoughts and I'll be happy to try to work them into a future post/video.

If you are reading this sentence, you are a fantastic person and I love you.


*It's newish, not new. Phoenix and MGMT do the same thing.

December 2, 2011: Got Music? Important Update

Three things:

1) Dear God, it's December.
2) If you're interested, I'm going to be posting a few new acoustic cover songs to my YouTube channel in the near future, so you can go enjoy those. The first is up (Helena Beat by Foster The People)
3) My webcam is no longer communicating with the rest of my computer in a way that is conducive to video-making. And since I have to try every video a few times before it works (and it only does like half the time), I'm just going to call it: I'm done shooting videos for a few weeks. I'm planning to acquire a good camera in the coming weeks, and my hope is that I'll be able to shoot better video with less brain-ache. Until then, I don't really want to screw around with bad video, bad sound, and a slovenly computer.

My video today was a reaction to the Grammy nominations. I'll be making a blog post with a more organized textual version of that shortly, so look for it in a bit.

Thanks for being cool.

Review: "We Are The Tide"

Blind Pilot: a band that totally snuck up on me. A band that I had never given a lot of thought to until one of my friends played "One Red Thread" for me and asked me to sing it (if you dare brave the tempest...). Since that moment, I have given significantly more thought to the Portland group. I have also given them significantly more listening time. This is a decision that I am quite happy with, for Blind Pilot are truly masterful on their 2008 debut "3 Rounds And A Sound." At this time, Israel Nebeker and Ryan Dobrowski constituted the band in its entirety. The two-man acoustic arrangements were tasteful, simple, and honest, and the dynamic was truly ideal for their unique brand of indie-folk/rock.

With this in mind, I was understandably unsure of the chances of inter-album consistency when I heard that their new release We Are The Tide incorporated four additional musicians. Using touring musicians was one thing, but I felt that tripling the size of the band would result in something else altogether. Something less than ideal, I might add. 

Oh, how wrong I was.

The opening song on We Are The Tide, "Half Moon," crescendos into prevalence with a fullness that immediately informs the listener that Blind Pilot has evolved. But any worries of over-evolution are promptly put to rest. "Half Moon," like the entire "Tide" album, sounds exactly like, well, Blind Pilot. It’s just Blind Pilot with a fuller sound. A fuller, richer, more mature sound. It’s a sound that grows and evolves even within the confines of the lead-off track, and it comes to a climax at the chorus about a minute into the song. At this instant, there is nothing but passion, energy, and beauty in the world. 

And it does not relent. "Half Moon" is undoubtedly my favorite tune on the album, but don’t think for a second that there is a drop-off in quality. Each song carries the torch with dignity, and brings a unique but equally powerful theme and dynamic to the collection. After "Half Moon," the next two songs slow down slightly and fall a little closer to the original simple Blind Pilot sound. The title track, listed fourth out of ten brings back the fullness and energy the album began with, but from a slightly more upbeat direction. It is with this song that I am convinced that Blind Pilot can truly make a masterful album, one which includes ups and downs, rises and falls, agility and languor.

After this, the album definitely slows down a bit. If you read "slow" as "boring," please excuse yourself from the remainder of the discussion. "Just One" and the album’s final track, "New York" are two of the most moving songs I have heard this year. "Just One" has a folky-country twist, employing sweeping slide electric guitars behind the chugging  (slow) acoustic strums. But the flawless vocal harmonies steal the show for these four minutes. Pay attention here, because this, kids, is how you arrange a song. "New York" is the ideal culmination to this album. It takes all of the passion and energy, and wrings it out over a chamber of strings. This is, lyrically, the most powerful song of the bunch. A slow-moving, growing, dirge for a broken relationship/quest for personal growth? That’s heavy stuff. This song is like the sonic equivalent of a solitary butterfly breaking out of its cocoon after it’s friends had left it behind (whoo, I sure am good similes).

The album ended. I just restarted it and listened to it again. And then again a few hours later. I’ve probably heard it 4-5 times total by now, and it still isn’t old. These are real songs by real people playing real instruments with real meaning. That’s a sound for sore ears, if you will. 

I will leave the review with this: album titles are not always very clear and understandable, and they rarely reflect the musical qualities of the album. But Blind Pilot’s new album flows in currents, it rises and crashes, it opens and closes, and ultimately it pulls you away with it. The music has a vitality that transcends mechanical influence, and I am left without a shred of doubt as to the group’s self-description: they are the tide.

Review: "Dust Bowl"

When I tell people about Joe Bonamassa, I like to say he’s "the best guitarist you’ve never heard of." But recently I’ve begun to think that I might need to rework that introduction to "he’s the best guitarist I have ever heard period." Either introduction is likely to conjure up images of a seasoned pro in the minds of new listeners, so most are somewhat surprised when they discover a 34 year-old white guy behind the microphone. But don’t be fooled by his youth. Bonamassa had logged more miles on a guitar at 15 than most guitarists do by 50. Keep in mind that this is a kid who opened for B.B. King (more than once) when he was 12, and who recently formed super-group Black Country Communion with Glenn Hughes, Derek Sherinian, and Jason Bonham. Yes indeed, his 34 years have been prolific to say the least; his latest release, Dust Bowl, is his ninth solo studio album. And, where many artists will begin to fade, mellow out, or become redundant, Bonamassa has somehow one-upped himself again. Dust Bowl is, in my humble opinion, his finest effort.

The album opens with the chugging "Slow Train," a loud, powerful blues exclamation. The subject area is nothing new to the blues genre (nomadic symbolism, broken relationships, etc.), but the execution is refreshingly new. Bonamassa finds a way to make his song sound eerily like the metaphorical train he sings of with percussive riffs and driving rhythm. The second song is the title track to the album, and deservingly so. The multitude of stringed and percussive instruments introduced in the song provide a haunting backdrop for strong vocals and alternately eerie and fiery guitar riffs. I would say that it is unquestionably the strongest song on the album, but Bonamassa has a nasty habit of making every song count, and the remainder of the album stays impressively on-par.

On "Tennessee Plates," Bonamassa tips his hat to the big Nashville country sound, turning down the gain and up the twang. Well actually he keeps the gain up pretty high. He just adds some twang, and some John Hiatt. The result is a big, rolling song about a big, rolling Cadillac (with Tennessee plates!). Bonamassa makes every note count, right down to the end. But don’t turn down the volume just yet. In his cover of Bobby Troup’s "The Meaning of the Blues," Bonamassa takes all the Nashville energy and brings it, lumbering, into focus behind the loudest, bluesiest lens I’ve ever beheld. He simply wails on his guitar, tearing out gut-wrenching solos and leaving the audience sufficiently floored. In fact, it’s probably a good thing that the beginning of the next tune, "Black Lung Heartache" is toned down a bit, because otherwise the unprepared listener would not be able to handle the continuous influx of energy. Please note, however: "toned down" does not mean “less impressive." Bonamassa employs an orchestra of small stringed instruments, some of which I have never heard of, (all played by the man himself) to give a jangley, tumbleweedy quality to his composition. When he does turn the volume back up partway through, he is able to maintain the hollow tone he achieved in the beginning, and the song becomes raw emotion and energy for about two minutes.

"You Better Watch Yourself" is not, as an uptempo, bluesy, jam, particularly unique. It is, however, another opportunity for Bonamassa to showcase his mastery of the guitar and his trademark Gibson-driven tone. The diversity resumes in the following track, "The Last Matador of Bayonne." This is the slow song of the album. Primarily soft guitar, brushed drums, and a trumpet wailing in the background, the song finds Bonamassa contemplating history and solitude in (presumably) the French town of Bayonne. The middle third of the song is the heart of the composition, and possibly of the album itself. Bonamassa unveils some of the most soulful, incendiary, heart-wrenching guitar playing I have ever heard in middle of this song, before sinking back into the shadows, leaving as quietly as he arrived.

Black Country Communion (BCC) bandmate Glenn Hughes appears on the cover of Paul Rodgers’ "Heartbreaker." If you were curious about what BCC sounds like, this song will give you a pretty good taste. Big, loud, classic rock with strong vocals and stronger guitar playing. Nothing too complicated here, folks, just some rockstars doing their thing. Another cover (this time of Michael Kamen and Tim Curry) follows in "No Love on the Street." The sound is not remarkably new, as both sonic and thematic parallels can easily be drawn between this and "The Meaning of the Blues." But at this point, any excuse to hear Bonamassa shred his way through a big, sexy blues song is fine with me, so I could not care less about the slight redundancy.

While we’re talking about redundancy, I suppose we’ll just carry on thorugh the next two tracks. Bonamassa’s own "The Whale that Swallowed Jonah" and Vince Gill’s "Sweet Rowena" (to which Vince Gill contributes his voice) are both uptempo country-based songs (the latter markedly more country-sounding than the former, but both retaining noticeable twang). While never totally repetitive, the songs don’t do much that hasn’t been done already on the album. But keep in mind that at this point on the album, Bonamassa has covered essentially all the bases, and redundancy is nearly inevitable. I choose to forgive the double-up because the songs remain strong and tasteful, and Bonamassa’s soft voice and hard guitar playing are as pleasant as ever.

The album ends on the highest of high notes (metaphorically speaking, here). Karen Lawrence’s "Prisoner" gives Bonamassa the opportunity to hit the area he hasn’t yet on this album. In fact, I don’t know that he’s sung/played like this before at all. I suppose it never hurts to begin with an already emotionally charged song, but Bonamassa takes that emotion and passion to levels that I previously didn’t know could be achieved musically. His voice is a perfect match for the song’s love-struck lyrics, and his final guitar solo on the album is one of his strongest. I honestly don’t know that he can hit a wrong note (at least while the monitors are on). 

As the final note rings into silence, the listener is left to reflect on an album that truly has everything. Loud vocals, scorching guitars, emotional choruses, guest stars, cool artwork, and a barrel of different sounds and styles tastefully and artfully woven together. Dust Bowl is a true masterpiece, and it is absolutely Bonamassa’s best album. At least, until the next one comes out.