Album Review: In Our Heads

The electro-pop heroes Hot Chip have proven time and time again that a sort musical anti-intellectualism need not precede excursions into the realm of dance/pop music. Here, with their latest excursion into joyful realms of dance-floor ecstasy (as well as past outings) they prove that highly influenced and intelligent musical-craftspeople don't always have to sound like the Dirty Projectors, or something (I have no gripe with these creatives, to be clear). These gents push it even further, here, making their most eclectic yet consistently brilliant work; it's the sort of album that makes you feel like you own the damned dance-floor, regardless of whether you wish that you lived in damned Innsmouth.

It would be a fools-errand to methodically dissect each and every sound/influence in this album, but I will note that the cocktail of sounds here add a sort of unique life and animal-energy to the work. Whether it be the 80's-pop aesthetic of "Don't Deny Your Heart", the super sexy R&B slow-jam vibes of "Look At Where We Are", the anthemic club-brilliance of "Flutes" (my personal favorite), or even the Balearic notes of "Let Me Be Him", each song offers something unique and compelling.

Ultimately, this happy/brilliant electro-pop gem shouldn't be dismissed; this album=smiles. Also, click the swanky symbol-man below, to hear the musicians speak about their album. Ciao, all.

-_______-

C.W.

Film Review: Prometheus

Unfortunately, to address Prometheus holistically without taking into account Ridley Scott's ventures into the realm of science-fiction, more specifically Alien (although Blade Runner is to me, his best film), would make it a bit too difficult to critique the film. Quite naturally, given that Scott has in past decades, put out some of the more enduring and salient science-fiction films time has held, quite literally altering the genre and its relationship with film, I was very intrigued by Prometheus, and at least in part, this intrigue was fulfilled.

More specifically, the first shall we say, thirty minutes of the film were every bit as wondrous as one could hope; certainly, their beauty was of a more grandiose and genuinely epic nature than the surreal minimalistic beauty of Alien, but I felt that those opening moments were as magnificent in their own way. Truth be told, I would even say the film was brilliant for its entire introductory-phase, as it moved along at a graceful pace, revealing images of aesthetic wonder.

Sadly, the film went significantly downhill for me, when it actually began to pick-up. As potential life-forms began to be actually sought-out (more on the plot and ideas of the film in the following paragraph), I felt strongly that Prometheus lost its sense of beauty and began to move on at a more typical horror pace, leaving behind most of the magic. It is also important to address the way in which Fassbender's nuanced turn as David and Rapace's role as Elizabeth remain consistently great throughout the film, adding significant interest even when other elements may decline in quality.

Now, without speaking of specifics in regards to the plot or ideas of the film, I must at least touch down in this realm briefly. Following the introductory moments of the film, there is this unfortunate feeling of all-overness that seeps into Prometheus; while the plot itself is quite simple and not at all complex, the way it's presented feels quite rushed for the majority of the film, as frames are no longer serving an aesthetic purpose towards the end, but a utilitarian one. I also can't quite say that I mesh with the crowd that finds Prometheus particularly compelling idealistically, not because I don't find its ideas fun and potentially interesting, but because I think most ideas are best communicated subconsciously, through experience and the senses. Unlike Scott's previous science-fiction giants, Prometheus seems to neglect this, in the end.

C.W.

Album Review: Giza - EP

Gatekeeper is just a delight. I think that when defining/describing this group, it makes perhaps the most sense to compare their appeal to that of hazy 80's horror flicks (Halloween and the like). I don't mean this in the sense that the experience of these two things is even necessarily the same, but that in many ways, Gatekeeper captures the endearing feelings one may experience when thinking about these films post-viewing; the hazy cheesy-wonder of the 80's horror aesthetic is translated into musical form here, as the artistic shortcomings of these films is cast-aside. Essentially, I would just love to make a throwback horror flick, and score it to this beautiful album (or even the also wonderful first EP Optimus Maximus by this duo). I mean, just look at the damn album art (just too cool). I've even thought whilst bobbing my head, that this album would work well as the background track to an amusement-park ride with a retro-horror theme.

To delve more specifically into the sounds of this EP, one can't ignore the synth sounds of the 80's (I talk about the 80's a lot on this blog, don't I?). Works by director and synth-genius John Carpenter are obvious touchstones, as well as more modern groups such as Zombi. Hard-hitting arpeggios and tinny yet rich retro-sounding synths make-up a large part of this work. In terms of the drum-machine sounds, they hit really hard. Simple yet somehow knotty beats compliment the synths, adding a strong dance/disco-esque vibe to this EP. Hyper-cheesy samplings from crusty horror films and the like are also dispersed throughout Giza, adding character and a sort of narrative.

Gatekeeper proves with this EP that sometimes the most powerful experiences are those that feel genuinely not of one's time. Follow the link below, to view the killer visual companion-piece to the initial track "Chains", which was released on a VHS-only collection for this EP. Thanks for reading.

"Chains"

C.W.

Film Review: Donnie Darko

Donnie Darko is an incredibly compelling film to behold, simultaneously because of the plethora of intriguing questions that it raises post-viewing (while viewing, as well) and because of its consistently unique/surreal aesthetic that speaks to the viewer's senses. At its core, this film involves the time-bending alternate-reality-heavy adventures and occurrences centered around the enduringly likable teenage boy by the name of Donnie Darko. To be honest, that's quite close to as specific as I can be in regards to the plot without skipping-off into a sort of novel, or even more unforgivably, taking a bit of the mystery out of the film.

On a philosophical level, this film is an absolute gem; it raises the best sorts of existence-questions (those that have no objective answer). Are we as humans truly alone? At which level is empathy possible, if at all? If there is a God, how does the reality or illusion of free-will mesh with him? Two aspects of a philosophical nature are especially refreshing with this film. First, many of these questions are raised by Donnie himself. This is compelling, because nearly holistically, Donnie Darko avoids denying teenagers any validity or intelligence, as so many films do. It's nice to see an artistic work that recognizes the philosophical potential in people of this age, and the way in which those that are older shouldn't necessarily cease to propose these questions to themselves and others. The film manages to attempt to make sense of our confusing situation without acting as if it already has made sense of it; Second, Donnie Darko is a very open-minded film, that ventures into territory that may not even be trendy (the acknowledgement of the possibility of God is quite interesting in the realm of modern cinema).

Probably equally as important is the aesthetic of the film. It oozes a sort of hazy, surreal, 80's-ness, that places the viewer under a sort of existential sensory trance. Events waft-about with an odd sort of pseudo-tranquility, as the stellar soundtrack fills the viewer's ears (Joy Division, Echo and the Bunnymen, Tears for Fears, and what-not). My only complaint, is the rare occurrence of slightly off-hand cheap-looking special-effects that I don't necessarily find aesthetically pleasing. I do admit that there is a sort of endearing quality to these minute elements, but I do find them slightly off-putting.

But, truly, one of my all-time favorites; a very special film. The website is also very intriguing (follow the link below).

The link below.

C.W.

The Importance of Visual Association within the Realm of Film and Music

I feel that more often than not, very little importance is placed upon both album-art and the film-poster. Although I intend to focus more directly upon these two artistic venues with this post, this attitude is a trend far beyond these realms, spreading to really any sort of visual representation of an artistic work. Ultimately, what is forgotten is that the artistic experience itself is always subconsciously filtered-through these initial visual and aesthetic representations of the works. Many times, the enjoyment of a work is inseparably influenced by these things. Granted, the influence manifests itself a tad differently when it comes to music, and when it comes to film.

Although music surely conjures mental images in and of itself, a very strong and cohesive image, representing the aesthetic of the music in question, can exponentially increase the resonance of the music with the listener, and serve as a starting-point for unique images that are created by the listener from their own personal experience and aesthetic leanings. Ultimately, album-art can viscerally inform music-content in ways that nothing else can. The mind thrives off of having this spring-board of sorts, that can be used to make the event of listening to an enjoyable album that much more exhilarating.

Film-posters, although working in fundamentally similar ways, do differ from album-art. Most prominently, film-posters move to inform works that are simultaneously visual in nature. Although it is still odd to view a film that completely defies its poster, this can be perhaps less damaging than with album-artwork, if even a bit less so. With films and their connection with their posters, it is more a striving towards fulfilling what has been pre-built within the filmgoer's mind, rather than setting up a sort of foundation or filter. It's more about synergy than foundation-building.

On a more general scale, a crucial part, at least to me, of enjoying the arts as a whole, is to recognize that doing this is about much more than just the work itself. Everything is a collaboration of elements.

C.W.

Album Review: We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves

John Maus is nearly as intriguing as an individual as this delightful little retro-pop gem and his music as a whole are. Maus frequently states in various interviews that I have viewed, that his primary goal as an artist is to take in hand what pop itself is, both as an ideal and as a sound, and in turn remove any unnecessary externalities. Being the eccentric (endearingly so) that he is, this is said in hundreds if not thousands of arcane words, that come across in the most confusing and polarizing way possible. Really, the intellectual pretentiousness of the John Maus persona serves as a fascinating contrast for his quite simple, reverb-heavy, retro-synth-pop musical output. I'm not sure how far-fetched this philosophy is, honestly. To me, this album is just an homage to 80's synth-pop with some unique elements added in, but who knows?

When I listen to this album, I either think to myself, "I certainly am glad that it is raining outside as I spin this." or, "I certainly wish that it was raining outside as I spin this". The beautiful album-artwork accompanying this is a holistically spot-on representation of the sounds within (perhaps I'll write a thought-piece on the importance of album artwork, and the mental associations that it inevitably conjures-up). The music here is very much pop from the 80's filled to the brim with Joy Division-esque vocal work from Maus, sincerely retro-sounding synth-arpeggios and chords, and simple yet crucial drum-machine elements.

Now, at first, this may seem very worn, but what makes this work so unique is the production that has been applied, not so much the make-up. The vocals seem as if they are drowning in the midst of a vast ocean of reverb; the synths seem to be recorded under water, and the drum-machine sounds like some sort of delightful thing that has been unearthed from the more hidden realms of your secretly cool grandmother's closet. This almost seems like some sort of pop album you would find hidden away in some neglected shelf of a record-store, listened to by not many more people when it was released than now (but, really, in the most endearing way possible).

In the end, this is really one of the best rainy night-drive type albums I've heard. Also, below is a link to one of the referenced interviews in which Maus' bizarre persona is on display. Also, bits of a Maus live performance are included (he just goes up there and sings along to tracks of his material, while acting a bit insane and stuff).

Click this, now.

C.W.

Film Review: The Secret World of Arrietty

The Secret World of Arrietty is the most recent film to have been released stateside by the perpetually praised Studio Ghibli (this is my first excursion into their material, actually). What is most instantly striking and enjoyable about the film is the visual element; every image that wafts across the screen has a sort of ethereal beauty to it. Scenes of a cottage nestled amongst some sort of forested locale, drops of dew sliding-about on rich membranous leaves, and hidden-away residences filled to the brim with intriguing and varied contents are common fare within the visual world of Arrietty.

Because of the premise of the film, one that involves the cohabitation of a residence by both normally sized humans and those of a far smaller variety, these artfully crafted visual elements are experienced from both a perspective similar to our own, and from a much more intimate level. This contrast adds an extra plane of interest and immersion, granting an almost preternatural level of awareness to the viewer. Again, the animation itself is very beautiful, as well as the almost infinitely lush surroundings (that I believe are rendered in watercolor). Much of the magic is in the details with this experience.

There is also an almost secret and mysterious beauty to the film, held within less tangible aspects of the experience. There is a sort of meditative pace and vibe with Arrietty that places the viewer under a sort of spell or trance. Time seems to move at a pace more in line with that of the dream-realm than any sort of reality. The figures move slowly yet gracefully, and each sound is emphasized and prominent (much like a dream, really). This less tangible beauty to the film is what makes for a doubly interesting and unique experience, that might seem foreign to most viewers (in quite a good way, for me).

The soundtrack itself felt a bit lacking, to me, mainly because whatever aesthetic the music fell under wasn't really one that I am either familiar with or fond of. In many ways, the music did form a sort of cohesion with the rest of the film, but again, it just didn't really resonate with me. That aside, The Secret World of Arrietty was a truly unique and aesthetically pleasing experience, that shouldn't be missed.

C.W.

Album Review: Severant

Kuedo's debut full-length Severant is a work of determined artistic vision and surprising yet cohesive contrast. There are two major driving forces behind this presentation in the form of dreamy synths that are reminiscent of science-fiction soundtracks of old, and instantly likable yet complex percussive elements drawing from hip-hop and the more footwork-like styles within that realm.

The Vangelis Blade Runner score is an obvious and ever-present touchstone with this work, and that is most definitely an excellent thing; many of the same feelings of intense romantic longing and nostalgia that appear within that iconic piece of songwriting are very much present here, as well. I mean, one of the songs here by the name of "Flight Path" takes the synth-line directly from the closing credits of the before-mentioned film (I noticed this much to my amusement, while re-watching the film, recently). Very analogue synths waft and swirl about this album, putting the listener into a sort of trance, and taking them into a realm of neon lights and dystopia.

The percussive elements within this work are what really seal the deal and make this such an intriguing and enjoyable listen. Speed itself is the most distinct characteristic within this sphere, as there are many moments when programmed hi-hat, snare, and various other drum-sounds reach dizzying speeds far outside the realm of normal human capability. There is something very visceral and invigorating about the pairing of achingly romantic and human synths with unpredictable and robotic hip-hop percussion.

This unique and wonderful work of relevance and hindsight is one that shouldn't be missed on your next nighttime hover-car drive, or otherwise.

C.W.

Film Review: 2001: A Space Odyssey

2001: A Space Odyssey is one of the most visually salient and aesthetically pleasing films I have ever viewed. Every single shot is oozing with glorious meticulousness and dedication to a unique feeling and look. I get the sense that Kubrick had complete and holistic control over his creation here.

Visually, this film is absolutely beautiful in all of its vintage 1970's science-fiction glory. Having a personal love for the aesthetic, this film immediately captured my attention, although there is a certain relevance and visceral purity to this film that makes it nearly untouchable in that regard, even today. Hypnotic drawn-out events filled with beautiful minimalistic ships and retro-futuristic events waft across the screen putting the viewer into a sort of trance. Equally as striking is Kubrick's usage of color, filling each visual instance with a sort of vibrancy and cohesion that is rare.

Also quite noticeable is the handling of sound. Switching back-and-forth between a handful of soundtrack-elements lends a sort of cyclic beauty to the film. Whether it be selections of classical orchestral pieces, eerie choir-like undulations, or the minimalistic yet prominent humming and chirping of machinery, this film reaches the viewer audibly as well as visually.

In the end, 2001 is an almost completely visceral experience as opposed to an intellectual one. There are those that might disagree with me, and rightfully bring up commentaries that the film makes on the enduring faults of humankind, or even the Cold War climate (yawn), but for me personally, this film was sensual and nothing else. Some might say that this is an example of style over substance, but in the end, the style was substance.

C.W.

Album Review: You Are All I See

What makes Active Child, the project of vocalist Pat Grossi so special, are the unique feelings and imagery that it evokes; it has a simultaneous awareness of both the holy and supernatural as well as the workings of everyday life. Regrettably, I have never stepped foot in an aged cathedral, or viewed classical art first-hand, but I imagine that the music of Active Child resonates with me in the same ways that these other experiences would. This music seems to paint man as something that has the potential for divinity, as much more like fallen angels than animals.

Another wonderful thing about this music is the fascinating juxtaposition of elements; dreamy Vangelis-like synths are paired with sweeping harp-arpeggios. Grossi's angelic hymnal vocals, delivered predominantly in a choir-esque falsetto, are paired with creeping bass thuds. This is as much Blade Runner as it is Michelangelo's David. Even the songs themselves contrast each other in intriguing manners; the almost pop jaunt "Playing House" sporting undertones of R&B, makes haunting hymns such as "Johnny Belinda" that much more salient.

The simultaneous otherness and relevance of this music makes for a truly cathartic and transcendent experience. Do listen.

C.W.

Film Review: Drive

Drive is a film that packs a visceral punch so powerful, that the images and moments contained within have managed to resonate with me since I first viewed the film months ago. Whether it be the nostalgic 80's tinged soundtrack, the powerful rumblings of a car engine, the moments of subtle yet beautiful human interaction, Driver's wicked-cool jacket, or even the instances of shocking and brutal violence, Drive manages to engage the viewer in ways that many films can't; it recognizes that even the most complex emotions can be triggered by the image and the experience, not logically.

What much of Drive's distinct and beautiful imagery manages to accomplish is a certain sense of the iconic that either isn't much pursued in the realm of modern cinema, or is done so very unsuccessfully. Drive is simply a gorgeous film, visually. It's a strange but wonderful combination of both modern stylistic leanings and those of the 80's, providing a uniquely immersive experience, in that the viewer feels holistically immersed in stylistic cues of the past, through instances of more familiar visual imagery.

At its core, Drive is very much an action film, following a somewhat linear progression centered around moments of climax in the form of violence. But, this is quite unlike any action film I have ever viewed, in-that it is presented very much as an art film. Each shot is meticulously crafted, and maximized for aesthetic value and impact. This film isn't at all concerned with serving as a vehicle through which action can be enacted, but rather with being good art, and art that is most important through an action vehicle.

The human element is also notably distinct within Drive. Most notably, Gosling delivers a uniquely nuanced performance as Driver, presenting another window into his wealth of talent as an acting presence. Very little is said by Driver throughout the film, creating a unique sense of tension and mystery within the scenes in which he is present. Gosling's character evokes both a sense of empathy and horror (much more empathy, from me, though) from the viewer, not allowing for any sort of concrete feeling towards him as a character. Carey Mulligan also delivers a fascinating role as Irene, Driver's neighbor, bringing about changes within his role, through her unique character traits. But, really, all of the characters are quite interesting here, weaving a unique web of contrast and cohesion (I just feel it would be a tad indulgent to break-down each and every one).

Ultimately, Drive is a powerful cinematic feat. It manages to remain important after viewing, as a uniquely visceral and important experience. Loveliness, people; loveliness.

C.W.

Do Visit This Site

My good friend Corey Gilmore and a number of collaborators have recently begun a movie reviews/news resource. I can certainly vouch for his taste, and I have thoroughly enjoyed what has been presented thus far. It's also likely that I'll be posting the odd review on here, as well. Do visit the link below.

This link, to be precise.

C.W.

Album Review: Hurry Up, We're Dreaming.

M83's frontman Anthony Gonzalez has frequently stated that the music of M83 isn't so much concerned with the present or even reality, so much as it is with representing idealized memories of the past. What content I have listened to in-relation to this group has a prevailing sense of adoration for youth, and the possibilities for both great joy and pain that are associated with this phase of life. While there are modern flourishes to M83's output, many of their musical leanings and their overall aesthetic are deeply rooted and grounded within the culture and music of the 70's and 80's, perhaps because these eras meld so seamlessly with the before-mentioned attitude towards adolescence and the world. When people of all ages think about their own perception of youth, cues from eras past, such as the film The Breakfast Club are more likely to come to mind than any sort of modern commentary on youth and the psychology and feel of it.

Hurry Up, We're Dreaming. is distinctively less John Hughes than their prior release, Saturdays=Youth, though. This is hard to put into words, but if I were to compare Saturdays to a film, it would be The Breakfast Club, and if I were to do the same for Hurry Up, I might even compare it to a film such as Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and the child-like wonder that it exhibits. Much like its predecessor, it is filled with mechanical drums, and retro-sounding synthesizers, but, what is different here, is that Hurry Up is notably more "big" than the more subdued nature of Saturdays. M83's newest is also quite a bit more eclectic than previous releases, sporting its wide array of influences with pride. Musical cues such as 80's pop and even more Kraut-esque synth leanings reminiscent of Tangerine Dream are apparent. Both the synth anthems such as "Midnight City" and more subdued ballad-type songs such as "Wait" are equally effective, representing a group that is able to musically represent a variety of emotions, vibes, and paces.

While nostalgia and melancholy still flow freely through this album's veins, there is also a more distinct wave of hope and innocence present here. Almost as if Hurry Up, We're Dreaming. is tapping into a greater sense of childlike wonder and innocence, as compared to a more cynical teenage outlook. Along with this subtle shift in tone, the most instantly noticeable difference here is Anthony's vocal delivery. Rather than utilizing a more whispered vocal of previous releases (which is still used here, in moderation), Anthony has adapted a much more powerful high-pitched vocal, similar in style to Sting, or in the more recent musical climate, Ezra Koenig of Vampire Weekend.

Ultimately, Hurry Up, We're Dreaming. is a wonderfully effective piece of escapist, synth-heavy, pop music. Its complete lack of interest in reality is what ultimately makes for such a cathartic experience. Lovely music, here.

C.W.

My Philosophy

Here, I want to provide a bit of context for future reviews found on this resource, in an attempt to provide a greater understanding of where I am coming from as a critic.

What I am creating and posting on this blog is solely the opinion of myself. I do not intend to post reviews from the vantage-point of one who is "above" the reader in any way, but rather, I hope to share my passion for music, film, and literature to my readers, instilling a greater interest in these areas within them, and alerting them to content that they just might enjoy.

I also don't intend to review only what art is current, but rather, I plan on sampling from the vast collection of artistic content available through time. Some reviews might relate to artworks of a recent nature, but others might pertain to art of decades long-gone.

Finally, through my reviews I aim to attempt to present clearly what any given album, film, or novel "is", in the sense that I hope to provide a clear portrait of what the work of art's aesthetic is, and ultimately, how it does and doesn't resonate with me.

I've decided not to include any sort of score at the end of my reviews, as I feel that they can accomplish more harm than good. With a score as a conclusion to a collection of thoughts, I fear that the reader will against their will, filter my thoughts, and in turn their thoughts through the provided score, damaging their ability to experience the related art "tabula rasa", as opposed to with an idea of the art's "intrinsic value" or "objective merit". It would also be quite annoying for me to accurately score works of art within the same scale. The fear of giving a work of art a 9, that I in reality like less than another that I awarded an 8.5 is a stress that I'd prefer to avoid, thank you.

Ultimately, I hope that the reader extracts at least some of the enjoyment that I experience from formulating my own thoughts on art. Enjoy.

C.W.