Christmas Wrapping.

Ah, Christmastime. Department stores blast heinously over-played jingles, radio stations refuse to play anything but carols for the entire month of December. Singers further commercialize themselves by churning out “holiday” albums filled with souped-up versions of seasonal standards. Does Christmas music make you want to gag? Listen to these eight songs and think again.

River – Joni Mitchell
Joni recounts the ways corporations bastardize the holiday’s true meaning. It’s the only Christmas song she’s ever released, and needless to say, it’s brilliant.

I Won’t Be Home For Christmas – Blink-182
The pop-punkers get violent on a group of pesky albeit well-intentioned carolers and spend Christmas night in jail. Merry indeed.

Jingle Bells – Barbara Streisand
What happens when a record label forces a nice Jewish girl, like Babs, to crank out a song in the Christmas spirit? She takes the reindeer by the horns and comes up with an endearingly theatrical, thoroughly entertaining track like this.

Santa Baby – Eartha Kitt
Hands down the sexiest song ever written about the bearded man in red. It’s feminine, alluring, and cute as hell. I don’t think anyone is immune to its charm.

This Christmas (Please Come Home) – Death Cab For Cutie
A really good Death Cab song is warm, earnest and sincere. Ben Gibbard’s voice is ripe with genuine emotion on this beautifully simple song, which easily falls amongst their best.

The Christians and the Pagans – Dar Williams
A conservative Christian man is visited by his lesbian niece and her partner for Christmas dinner. They’re able to put aside their differences on this heartfelt, intelligent song.

Jesus Walks – Kanye West
If one song could make this apathetic atheist pine for a seat in the church pew, this would be it. “They say you can rap about everything except for Jesus / that means guns, sex, lies, videotapes / but if I talk about God my record won’t get played.” Kanye takes Christianity to the streets with fervent soul.

Happy Xmas (War Is Over) – John Lennon
To John, Christmas is a time of hope for a peaceful future. The bittersweet ditty rings more relevant than ever.

Review: Monsters Of Folk - Monsters Of Folk

Forget Locking Your Closet: 

These 'Monsters' Ain't Scaring Nobody.

(From L-R: Oberst, Mogis, Ward, James)

On paper, Monsters Of Folk sounds supremely awesome. A "supergroup" consisting of the biggest names in twenty-first century folk music: My Morning Jacket's Jim James, whose sweet tenor melts like maple syrup over his group's alternative country-tinged tracks; Bright Eyes' prolific lyricist and vocalist Conor Oberst, plus multi-instrumentalist Mike Mogis; and lastly, indie singer/songwriter M. Ward, who wields his acoustic axe with purpose and plays with notable attention to detail. Unfortunately, this album suffers a nasty bout of lazy lyricism and even lazier production. While Oberst lays off the warbly affectation, one can't help but miss the stripped-down sincerity of his solo work. The overuse of reverb and echo distract from the group's masterful harmonies. Oberst's Dylanesque musings are MIA: instead, listeners are subjected to choruses full of "la la la's". The Monsters' real accomplishment is the instrumentation - a carefully concocted soufflé of skillful strumming, finger-picking and delicate solos. Props to Master Chef, M. Ward. While MOF makes for elegant aural wallpaper, the record left me wishing these folkies would put down the pipe and stop folkin' around.

Grade: B-/C+

Key Tracks: Say Please, Magic Marker

Reviving the Long-Lost Art of the Music Video

GaGa embraces the occult in her stunning "Bad Romance" video.

Music videos used to be a big deal. Back in the eighties, Michael Jackson and Madonna viewed videos as an extension of their music, an expansion of their art. Nowadays? Videos are all kind of garbage, either filled with half-naked chicks or pouty-faced, guitar-plunkin' morons. But get ready to have your socks blown off with Lady GaGa's killer vid for her brand new single "Bad Romance", off The Fame Monster, an upcoming deluxe edition of her debut, which features eight previously unreleased tracks. Part outrageously awesome dance routines and ridiculous avant-garde apparel - with a dash of eery Tim Burton-style goth thrown in for good measure - this video is where big-budget meets beauty. 

As GaGa crawls out of a coffin, she is faced with sexy cyborgs donning white-leather dominatrix suits in what appears to be an S&M crematorium. She's naked, bug-eyed, and sporting a wonderful red wig. Amidst a shit-ton of costume changes and legions of back-up dancers, GaGa always manages to shine supreme.

As for the song itself? Not nearly as catchy as her past singles. But it's the video that makes it fantastic. There's no doubt GaGa is the reigning Queen of Pop. And a fabulously freaky queen, at that.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ACm9yECwSso

The Faux-Feminism of Katy Perry & Taylor Swift

Taylor Swift and Katy Perry both write their own songs, have distinct voices, play guitar, and have become idols for millions of pre-teen and teen girls. And, of course, they’ve both been featured on the cover of that holiest of bibles for the American girl: Seventeen Magazine. But what is the key similarity between Swift and Perry? The inherently anti-feminist beliefs expressed in virtually all their songs.

Taylor Swift is the 19-year-old country crossover sensation, who strums an acoustic guitar encrusted with Swarovski crystals and wears her innocence like a crucifix. “You Belong With Me” is a triumph of girl-on-girl sexism. It’s a pathetic plea to Taylor’s dream boy, begging him to dump his girlfriend for the unpardonable sin of having a life outside pleasing this one dude.

Swift’s newest single “Fifteen” is even worse. Let’s take a look at the music video. It has Swift wandering around in a white dress, barefoot and doe-eyed, reminiscing about high school and her awesome BFF, Abigail. Their one bond seems to be that they both hate other girls who “think they’re so cool” (Really, Taylor, these are the best lyrics you could come up with?!) and that they both have boyfriends. In the video, we find Abigail out on a date. But, oh no, suddenly Boyfriend tries to take things too far! Abigail cannot take this assault on her purity and the relationship must end. Suddenly the CGI-animated raindrops start pouring down and everything looks gloomy. This is a world of purity rings and intact hymens - where only the worst sort of Lothario is less than satisfied with a chaste kiss from his future wife. While it is true that young women are often pressured to go further sexually than initially planned - it is also true that some girls want to go wherever those passionate kisses are leading. And that’s simply not a narrative that gets told here. Instead we receive the ole’ boys GET sex, girls GIVE sex. Taylor gloats, singing about how well things have worked out in her own life. Moral of the story? Girl who gets semi-sexual regrets it, girl who doesn’t get anything sexual ends up happy and accomplished.

Bi-curious pop-rocker Katy Perry presents a different, but equally troubling, role model. She admits to smooching girls for male titillation (“I Kissed A Girl”) and derides a lover for his, supposedly, unmanly ways (“Ur So Gay”). In her hit song “Hot n Cold”, Perry tells a boyfriend: “You PMS like a bitch / I should know,” expressing her contempt for him acting like a typical erratic, unreliable woman instead of the dominant forceful man he's supposed to be. Reading Perry’s interview in Seventeen Magazine was even more crushing. Entitled “Katy Perry: The Crazy Things She's Done For Love”, Perry details how she’ll cling to her phone for hours waiting for a message from the current object of her desire because, “sometimes a text is all you need.” So many girls look to boys to gain a sense of self-worth and validity. Nice way to liberate America's impressionable female adolescent population from the shackles of dependancy and doubt, Katy.

While superficially Swift and Perry come across as strong, autonomous women, they serve to reinforce the traditional idea of women as weak and submissive, and they slyly align themselves with that role. Despite the trappings, the concerns expressed in their lyrics are more Tammy Wynette than Ani DiFranco. Perry and Swift are marketing two distinct caricatures of femininity. Perry is the pin-up girl in leather pumps and a cleavage-bearing bustier, seductively poised for the entertainment of the male, heterosexual masses. Swift is the pious little lamb, obsessively pining over "cute" boys yet touting virginity as her number one virtue. Taylor Swift and Katy Perry aren’t telling us, or selling us, anything new. They're not empowering and they're certainly not original. Their music is as artificial and calculated as any other pop star.  Move along, people, just move along.

Review: Paramore - Brand New Eyes

Tennessee titans mix adolescent anger with grown-up candor.

“The next time you point a finger / I’ll point you to the mirror,” sings Hayley Williams in “Playing God”, an indignant attack on posers juxtaposed with painfully pretty guitar ripples. The pint-size, iron-lunged frontwoman is all about honesty. Cathartic single “Ignorance” addresses how distrust and tension, results of newfound fame, have negatively affected the band members’ age-old friendship. While the group is barely out of their teens, their third album swaps earnest admissions of love and overall naiveté for a sound that’s more abrasive and fervent—yet also more pensive and nuanced. Make no mistake, Paramore is still pop. But then again, whoever said that raw, truthful music couldn’t be super-catchy at the same time?

Grade: B+

Key Tracks: Playing God, Turn It Off, The Only Exception

New Weezer Single!

It's explosive! It's pop! It's Weezer! It rocks! "(If You're Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To" is about a doomed summer romance. But the song doesn't boast any undertones of grief or loss. The whole thing is pretty much in the key of "Whew! That was fun." An awkward first kiss with a cute goth chick at summer camp set to a bouncy, guitar-driven melody. And what's more, it takes place in July! The happiest month in the world! Summer lovin' is so gad dang great. And so is this song. Soak it up.

Grade: A-

Psssssst... Weezer's seventh disc, Raditude, drops November 3rd. Here's a-hoping it'll be better than last year's subpar Red Album.

Girl Crush.

I have a massive crush on Hayley Williams.

I started falling for Paramore's frontwoman when I first laid hands upon the group's 2007 disc, Riot! Her strong, persuasive singing won me over, but it was her in-your-face, fuck-you attitude that tore me to shreds. As if her pipes of steel (as well as her knack for writing awesomely angry yet hypercatchy tunes) wasn't enough, she's totes adorbs. That gap between her two front teeth? Makes my knees go weak. I had the pleasure of seeing Paramore live not once, but twice, and she's a firecracker. When she throws back her head, red flames lick the sky. While I was flipping through this month's issue of Rolling Stone, suppressing myself from gagging over the skankalicious photos Megan Fox, I stumbled upon an interview with Haylz. She covers a vast range of topics: from her band's tour with No Doubt to what it's like sharing a bus with smelly boys. She also spilled some deets about the new Paramore album, which comes out super soon. I'm psyched. And what's more, fellow fans/stalkers of Ms. Williams, she just released a solo song! "Teenagers", which she wrote for the soundtrack of the movie Jennifer's Body, has a rockin' stripped down, folksy vibe that's quite different than your typical Paramore fare. But it's deliciously angsty nonetheless and within seconds of listening to it, I had a big goofy grin plastered on my face. God I love her.

Check it out: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_GbeIO9iqo&feature=related

My Life Aspiration: To Be This Guy

Who is this bespectacled, inoffensive-looking bumpkin? Why no other than Craig Finn, arguably current rock music's most prolific songwriter! In addition to fronting New York's favorite bar band, The Hold Steady, Finn is one of the most dynamic characters in the biz. A lovable misogynist whose honesty rings in the gruff, frenzied manner in which he speak-sings. Spending a long bus ride listening to The Hold Steady's Separation Sunday from start to finish is the sonic equivalent of reading a page-turning novel. But unlike the majority of page-turning novels, Sunday is an effing masterpiece. It could be called a concept album, but that would oversimplify its genius. The album revolves around Hallelujah ("but they kids, they call her Holly") a strung-out ex-Catholic School girl. Hallelujah is not merely one misled young woman, but a vehicle for Finn's brillliant, hilarious commentary on human nature. Betrayal. Disillusionment. The ins and outs of love and lust. She also provides him with a whole lot of context for his twistedly thought-provoking religious analogies. The Who sang "It's only teenage wasteland" but Finn takes the notion of wasted youth a step farther. Hallelujah begins her descent into drunkenness and physical dissipation on The Hold Steady's equally awesome debut Almost Killed Me. But Sunday offers a deeper look into her chaotic life.  She "slept with too many skaters" ("Hornets! Hornets!") and likes the way her crucifix necklace looks "on her chest with three open buttons" ("Multitude Of Casualties"). But by the album's end she's reached a turning point, for better or for worse. "Youth services always find a way to get their bloody cross into your druggy little messed-up teenage life," sings Finn on "Multitude of Casualities". Hallelujah's journey, chronicled over the course of three albums, is intense, engaging and oh-so human. And not one second of the trip sounds forced or false. Gotta hand it to Craig Finn: dude calls it like he sees it, and damn, he calls it good.

Blink-182 Reunion: The Aging Punk-Pop Pioneers Rock On

Mainstream rock music ain’t what it used to be. The weepy, self-aggrandizing genre of “emo” has churned out legions of similar-sounding groups. The meathead bands dominating FM rock stations are all fronted by muscular cheeseballs who sound like they could use a bag of lozenges. Well, not too long ago the charts were ruled by a little band called Blink-182: the Southern California punk-poppers with hearts of gold and an infallible sense of humor. They said exactly what every awkward, maladjusted teenager feels and thinks. Although Blink-182 broke up in early 2005 due to internal conflict, their spot-on musings at adolescent life continued to resonate on a personal level with teens around the world. When drummer Travis Barker narrowly escaped death less than a year ago in a horrific plane crash, the trio began to rebuild a bond that had appeared long broken. This summer they reunited for a tour and are set to pen a new album. August 25^th, I ventured out to Long Island with a friend to catch their performance at Jones Beach Theater. While there was hardly any range in age of those attending the sold-out show—my fellow concertgoers were all in their mid-teens to early twenties—there was another kind of diversity amongst the audience. In the row in front of us sat three hipster girls in cardigans and strategically ripped skinny jeans. Yet to our left sat a well-dressed, preppy couple. On our right were two bulky guys with gelled hair and diamonds in their ears. Behind us, a boy covered in tattoos sported a blue mohawk. The most random people ever? Hardly. When Blink-182 took the stage and guitarist Tom DeLonge’s fingers started flying across the fretboard of his golden Les Paul, playing the intro to “Dumpweed”, our identity melted into one: we were nothing more than screaming fans. Just as their audience wasn’t dressed identically, lead singers DeLonge and Mark Hoppus hardly looked like two guys fronting the same band; surely indicative of the five years they spent apart. DeLonge was undoubtedly influenced by the melancholy grandiosity of his post-Blink band Angels & Airwaves, as his asymmetrical haircut and tight black pants contrasted with bassist/vocalist Hoppus, who at 37 years old is still rocking the same SoCal skater style as ever. Employing the same lighting designer used by Daft Punk and Kanye West, their set was aesthetically stunning. But the giddy crowd wasn’t gathered for the visuals—the boys could have been performing in sweatpants, the stage could have been dimly lit and covered in toilet paper: nothing could deter from the level of excitement and adoration. The band played such mega-hits as “All The Small Things” and “I Miss You”, but also managed to squeeze in a few lesser-known fan favorites such as “Carousel” and “Josie”. Although the members of Blink may be approaching middle age, songs like “Dammit (Growing Up)” and “Going Away To College” will remain perpetually relevant to their teenage fan base. Barker’s astounding drum solo to a hip-hop track literally defied gravity: he sounded unbelievable while playing suspended in the air on a levitating drum riser, which rotated him sideways and upside-down. After the first of two encores, Mark called his bandmates together for a hug, and addressed the friendship that they are still in the process of mending. To see Blink-182 live was to their witness their diverse community of fans, all woven together by the heartfelt sincerity of Blink’s music. Isn’t that exactly what mainstream rock and roll is lacking? The key to Blink’s significance and inestimable influence is in their honest, unpretentious songwriting. Dancing in my row alongside complete strangers, there was a sense of community. At some point in our lives, Blink-182 had reached out to us as we spun their CD for the fifty-millionth time in our discmans. We had all deciphered that comforting message tucked into their songs: we’re all dorks, and as hard as growing up can be, you’ll make it through.

Final Verdict? This is a must-see show for both die-hard and casual Blink fans alike. Get psyched: Blink-182 is back for real.

If Bruce Springsteen and The Clash had a baby...

The resulting musical progeny would sound a hell of a lot like The Gaslight Anthem. 

Lead singer Brian Fallon's gravelly, soulful pipes bear an uncanny similarity to those of The Boss, but the criminally underrated New Jerseyans churn out the fervent, heartfelt music of their punk predecessors. 2008's The '59 Sound is a stripped-down, earnest rock record: tinged with  bittersweet nostalgia and tales of small-town, blue-collar America. There is something refreshingly old-fashioned about The Gaslight Anthem, from the way the album sounds like it could have been recorded on vintage microphones to the retro imagery the group employs ("...in my head there's all these classic cars and outlaw cowboy bands... I always kinda sorta wished I looked like Elvis," sighs a disconsolate Fallon on "High Lonesome".) The titular tune, which ponders the death of a friend, could strike a nerve in even the most stoic listeners as Fallon asks, "Did you hear your favorite song one last time?"  Both Springsteen and The Clash could attest to the vital ingredient which gives music real authenticity and significance: gritty honesty. And The Gaslight Anthem has that ingredient tucked safely into all of their recipes. 

Coolest Band You've Never Heard Of: Noisettes

Who are the Noisettes? The coolest band you've never heard of, that's who! The British power-trio are fronted by immensely talented bassist/vocalist Shingai Shoniwa. Her smoky vocals are a retro soul throwback, but the group has created a sound all their own. 2007's What Time Is It Mr. Wolf? showcases the group's sui generis mixture of raw punk and intricate indie-rock. Shoniwa's tuneful shrieks pack enough vicious attitude to send Karen O running for shelter (check out "Scratch Your Name"), yet their drum-bass-guitar arrangements are sparse in an awesome bluesy way, reminiscent of the early Stones. New album Wild Young Hearts finds the band expanding their musical influences yet maintaining their wicked original vibe. The rhythm guitar and unmistakeable groove on "Don't Upset The Rhythm (Go Baby Go)" presents a funk-rock edge, while the crazy-catchy "Never Forget You" sounds like it could have been recorded by a sixties girl-group. Brilliant, passionate and loads of fun: if you love music, you'll adore the Noisettes.

Emo? More like SHEmo!

I hate the phrase "emo". It's so fucking vague. What is emo? Well, if I had to create an in-depth definition, I would describe emo as whiny-voiced young dudes bemoaning lost love over a series of diatonic power chords. So what is shemo? It's a phrase I made up to categorize the growing trend of female-fronted pop-rock outfits. Power chords? Check. Super-catchy hooks? Check. Lovelorn lyrics? Check. Whiny dudes in tight pants? Nah, bro. Shemo takes all the awesome elements of emo (admit it, you've enjoyed a Fall Out Boy song before) and filters out the crap. Even shitty shemo bands are better than your standard emo fare. Hey Monday write the kind of uninspired radio-ready tunes one would expect from Boys Like Girls, or the dozens of other similar-sounding bands, but fierce frontwoman Cassadee Pope instantly makes them more likeable. Hell, if Paramore were fronted by a man I probably wouldn't be as big of a fan. Aside from Paramore, fans of shemo should make sure to give Meg & Dia (pictured above) and Automatic Loveletter a listen. Sorry guys, formulaic pop-punk is so much sweeter in the hands of a spunky rocker chick.

Review: Jonas Brothers - Lines Vines And Trying Times

Juvenile rubbish from the 21st century's favorite boy band.

I used to respect the Jonas Brothers. 2008’s A Little Bit Longer brimmed with infectious power-pop. Longer was consistent in its big choruses and tight riffs. I lost the majority of my respect for the JoBros February ‘09, when a performance on Saturday Night Live managed to help expose them as the talentless dweebs they are. The three brothers had a full troupe of pros playing as their backing band. Nick and Kevin’s hands seemed to remain virtually stationary on the necks on their guitars. Singers Joe and Nick both have thin, nasal voices and their harmonies were uniformly out of tune. Yet even after the unlistenable stint on SNL, I still held onto this shard of respect. I have discarded that shard upon listening to Lines, Vines, And Trying Times. Whereas Longer purveyed enough tasteful fun to make it a deliciously uncool guilty pleasure, Lines is a rambling and lifeless mess. Everything about it is overdone, from the bombastic horns and Nick’s bizarre affected vocals on opener “World War III” to “Don’t Charge Me For the Crime”, a grossly misguided collaboration with rapper Common. There is not one interesting or otherwise redeeming element to suggest anyone should spend a cent on this worthless pile of vapid, slickly produced garbage.

Grade: D

Key Tracks: Paranoid, Poison Ivy

Review: St. Vincent - Actor

Ethereal Brooklyn goddess emerges as indie rock's newest darling.

St. Vincent sings like a divine woodland nymph. But she shreds like a demon from the netherworld. Welcome to the explosive, experimental genius of the multi-instrumentalist, née Annie Clark. The album kicks off with the excellent "The Strangers": amidst the choral vocals and woodwinds, one hardly notices the angry, sardonic words Clark spews out in her angelic voice. “Actor Out Of Work” sounds as if it by a female-fronted TV On the Radio, with its densely layered, heavily serrated guitars and artful use of reverb. Clark never allows her intricate musical arrangements to overshadow her awesomely nimble lyrics, managing to keep perfect equilibrium. Despite its grisly title, "Laughing With A Mouth Of Blood is her sweetest track: a romantic, spacey noise-pop gem. Actor is at times lush and bright, and at other times, sparse and macabre. Clark proves herself to be a mega-talented enigma, possessing both the charm and the chops to keep us guessing and to keep us hooked.

Grade: A-

Key Tracks: The Strangers, Actor Out Of Work, Laughing With A Mouth Of Blood

About Me? Oh, dear...

My name is Sarah. I listen to a ton of music, but more than that, I just really love music. I'm a music geek. I edit the music section ("the lp") of my highschool's newspaper. There's a lot more I could say, but that's all for now.

last.fm/user/purplewombat