man man month - Days On File

MAN MAN
SHARKS
DEL THE FUNKY HOMOSAPIEN
The Joys Of Living 2008-2010
Velvet Scene/Rise 2011
Golden Era
The Council 2011
Sharks? Who the hell calls themselves
Sharks? Apparently, this Warwickshire, UK,
four-piece does.
Oakland, CA, seems like a rough town — the
sort of place where gangsta rap blasts from
open windows most hours of the day. Despite
that rough rep, well projected by the city’s
NFL team, the Raiders, Oakland is also home
to Del The Funky Homosapien, one of the
primary detractors from the pure gangsta rap
sound. Don’t get me wrong — Golden Era, Del’s latest album, bears a
distinct gangsta flavor, but one tempered by shots of comic relief and
pure funky creativity. Del originally entered the rap game as Ice Cube’s
younger cousin. He supported the future Are We There Yet? star as a
member of his crew, but after Cube helped Del launch his own record, I
Wish My Brother George Was Here, the two split ways.
The Joys Of Living 2008-2010 is a collection of material that came out
on a pair of EPs, 2008’s Shallow Waters and 2010’s Show Of Hands,
released on London indie label Best Before Records. That said, let’s
assume that most haven’t heard these Brit brats and their big British
sound. And it is big.
The record starts with “Sweet Harness,” a pretty and melodic ditty
that’s easy on the ears and rocks into a more urgent and upbeat indie
rock title track. But just three songs into the record, lead vocalist James
Mattock does an unaccompanied intro with a sweet Joe Strummer
rasp — a bold journey for any musician, English or not. Later, on “Bury
Your Youth,” Sharks even fall into a roots-reggae rhythm. But while
they show some early The Clash tendencies, Sharks don’t solely lean
on the legendary Londoners and their patented sound. In fact, Sharks
don’t lean on anyone. Sure, fans of Joy Division’s guitar work, crosspond contemporaries Titus Andronicus’ tempos, and (dare I say it)
Weston’s “cutesiness” may be drawn to Sharks’ catchy refrains.
Borrowed influences range from both continents and four decades.
The band actually teamed up with Rise Records to create their own
imprint, called Velvet Scene, and now folks are tapping their feet
everywhere. “Fallen On Deaf Ears” features some uplifting horns,
and “Yours To Fear” is a different kind of sing-along to piano. There’s
nothing particularly dark or heavy here, just a lot of well-constructed
rock sounds with punk undertones, skillful harmonizing, and great
production. Lyrically, Mattock is intelligent without overstating it. “Have
you ever stepped inside yourself, to see the truth is a dream aloud?”
You may have to scratch below the surface to find meaning, but you
don’t need a pickax. And you’re not just shoveling shit. Sharks are
original, but you wouldn’t say this is a particularly acquired taste. I can
see anyone popping this in and feeling pretty good, which leads to
the conclusion that this young band can pretty much call themselves
whatever they want. By Jon Coen
While Ice went on to further cement the role of gangsta rap in American
race relations and mainstream culture, Del took a step back from the
same old beats and rhymes. Two decades later, Del has shouldered
the weight of a tumultuous career that has earned him hushed praise
and a loyal underground following. He is best known for his flows
on “Clint Eastwood” by Gorillaz and for his host of songs in a list of
skateboarding, snowboarding, and BMX video games and movies.
In that sense, it’s unlikely that Golden Era will see Del escaping his
typecast. But that’s okay. Releasing an album so jam-packed with fun
beats and transcendent rhymes, Del stays with what he knows and wins
because of it.
“Calculate” finds Del The Funky Homosapien firing on all cylinders.
An N.W.A.-like beat carries the song musically, allowing Del’s monster
rhymes to bedazzle, unabridged by over-utilized hooks like most popular
hip-hop today. The flow slows on the chorus, allowing listeners a chance
to keep up with our master maestro as he blasts his competition: “But
it don’t add up/ You ignorant, got no clue/ I know you must be so
confused/ They got the nerve to talk so reckless.” However, other songs,
like the boringly repetitive “Upside Down,” fail to add up to much more
than beats and words. Del will never have the fame of his cuz, but overall
solid performances like Golden Era ensure that the Oakland MC will stay
top dog in the house he built. By Alex Lemonde-Gray
Life Fantastic
Anti- 2011
At this point, it’s futile to even try and pinpoint
Man Man’s chaotic genre exercises. Carnival
rock, Gypsy jazz, freak folk, kindergarten
punk, old-fashioned sea shanties, doo-wop,
R&B… it’s all there on this Philadelphia fivepiece’s last three albums. But on their fourth
full-length, Life Fantastic, the stakes are
considerably raised, mostly because this is
by far the slickest set in Man Man’s history.
Surprisingly, though, it works: the production
of Saddle Creek mastermind Mike Mogis
and the lush string arrangements of Bright
Eyes member Nate Walcott keep the band’s
patented pandemonium under control.
PICK
MO
OF
THE
NTH
But Life Fantastic didn’t emerge from some easygoing period of Man Man’s newly
successful life. Instead, frontman Ryan Kattner sat down to write torn up over the
deaths of several friends. “In the past, I was able to take bad situations and turn
them into something creative,” Kattner explains in press for the album. “This time I
felt nothing, which was worse than feeling miserable or depressed.” Album opener
“Knuckle Down” maintains the same lurching Man Man energy thanks to excellent
drumming from Chris Powell, but Kattner’s schizophrenic keys are more subdued,
Billy Dufala’s horns more tasteful, and Russell Higbee’s guitar lines more nuanced.
“Piranhas Club” smiles through its drug-addled surf-pop haze, but “Steak Knives”
resides at the other end of that spectrum — bare bones, but with a touch of reverb
added to Kattner’s haunting voice and extra aching beauty layered on thanks to those
aforementioned strings. “Dark Arts” is similarly downbeat, but far more propulsive
and batshit-crazy, hearkening back to Man Man’s anarchic early work much as the
seven-minute organ-driven jam “Shameless” does.
Life Fantastic journeys to mythical Eastern European lands on the shimmying “Haute
Tropique,” but as always, Man Man saves the best songs for last. The queasy
gang-chorus splendor of “Bangkok Necktie,” the strutting magnificence of the title
track, and the cinematic lounge-jazz balladry of “Oh, La Brea” all feature plenty of
breakneck experimentalism, along with heaps of splendiferous production from
Mogis. Even with a markedly cleaned-up face, the brutal Man Man personality has
not changed. Kattner’s songwriting is still jaw-droppingly evocative. The entire band
is still ridiculously tight. In fact, 2011 might stand as the band’s most prolific period to
date. My advice? Buy Life Fantastic, catch Man Man live this summer, and enjoy the
life-changing moments. By Nick McGregor
THEE OH SEES
FLEET FOXES
BILL CALLAHAN
Castlemania
In The Red 2011
Helplessness Blues
Sub Pop 2011
Apocalypse
Drag City 2011
Thee Oh Sees are funny cats, full of vintage
garage-rock cheekiness, folksy psychedelia, and
completely maniacal on-stage antics, throwing
themselves headfirst into their live performances
and authentically purveying what it means to be an independent rock act.
Headed by John Dwyer, who’s originally from Providence, RI, and whose
laundry list of acts founded in the exploding San Francisco indie scene
include Pink & Brown, The Coachwhips, OCS, and more, Thee Oh Sees
accomplish what a lot of the burgeoning revivalist garage acts as of late
do not: originality.
Over the last two weeks, I’ve spent a lot of
time trying to figure out who likes the sound
of a lute. When I first heard Sting sing Songs
From The Labyrinth, on which he used circular
breathing to force his listeners to sleep as he droned on for 14 hours
over Edin Karamazov’s string play, I got a headache. The same thing
happened with Fleet Foxes during the first 14 seconds of their new
album, Helplessness Blues, so they clock in at 5000% better then the
shrink-wrapped migraine I purchased the last time I explored European
roots music. Based on statistics and probability, the 1,888 seconds of
greatness on Helplessness Blues divided into the 14 seconds of shit
equals Fleet Foxes having a 741% chance of success.
What keeps an immensely talented singersongwriter from achieving mainstream success? In
some instances, it’s his or her vocal pitch. In other
cases, it’s the classic troubadour case of obscure
impenetrability, using weird song structures, offbeat lyrics, and puzzling
imagery to purposefully stand out. But for Bill Callahan, who already boasts a
devoted cult following, his only crime may be his casualness. Too easygoing.
Too laid-back. Too carefree. But make no mistake — when NPR did their
“50 Great Voices” feature in 2010, they made a huge mistake by excluding
Callahan’s husky, heartwarming baritone.
Castlemania, the group’s seventh offering, comes in at a total of 16 tracks
that are chock full of their familiar blend of rock, only with a little less of
the punk tinge found on their last two very well-received albums, Help
and Warm Slime. At times, Thee Oh Sees are raucously playful, while
at others, they’re completely warped and creepy. While the majority of
the album plays with vintage sounds and features some soft harmonies
intermixed from Brigid Dawson, there’s some twisted vocal work by Dwyer
that just sounds downright evil propped up against the ‘60s summery pop
vibe. I actually get the feeling that was the kind of sound serial killer Charlie
Manson was looking for in his own heyday of recording.
“I Need Seed,” the lead track off Castlemania, is about as catchy as
garage rock can get. Meanwhile, “Corprophagist (A Bath Perhaps)” is a
goofy track featuring jazz flute that chugs along, “Corrupted Coffin” is the
most crunchy and punk-inspired of the album, and “AA Warm Breeze”
plays with honky-tonk and features perfectly placed harmonica work.
Clocking in at a mere 59 seconds, “Spider Cider” is probably the most
indicative of Thee Oh Sees’ mischievous style, with a cartoonish Adam
West version of the Batman theme song acting as a melody. If you wish
The Rolling Stones, The Mamas & The Papas, The Castaways, and The
Troggs sounded a little dirty and edgier — or you simply liked to get down
to the Monster Mash Halloween record when you were a kid — then try to
pick up Castlemania (particularly on vinyl) and enjoy the creepy tunes and
super-cool cover art from Thee Oh Sees. By Peter Viele
40
EasternSurf.com
This Seattle band walks the line between beautiful, progressive, popinfluenced balladry and experimental failures. And I find this endearing. It
shows that they’re willing to work toward a new sound with new members
in new places and not let their freedom carry them into a corky spiral
of 18th-century instrumental abuse. I address this because one of the
main elements on Helplessness Blues is the use of Fettered Belly Lutes
and an in-depth study of Baroque-period European stringed ensembles
on instrumental “The Cascades,” deriving a “Sir Gawain & The Green
Knight” sonnet and eloquently splicing it into an otherwise awesome
song. Aside from that, I can’t find many complaints.
Frontman Robin Pecknold is a worthy architect of lyrics, and he shoots
straightforward press from his own pen, a respectable move in an industry
that’s often built more on public relations tactics than talent itself. Fleet
Foxes haven’t held many firm rules over the years, willingly accepting
members as they come and go and skirting the immense pressure to
release this album in favor of maintaining a happy and healthy band.
I keep coming back to one image: Fleet Foxes as a type of small
community living diligent lives in a small tree (think Keebler Elves), where
they record under strict barometric pressure and lighting for astounding
high-end results (see pristine songs like “Sim Sala Bim” and “Lorelai”).
This is partially due to their name and the nature of the fox in my own
mind, but mainly it’s based on their quick shifts among numerous talents.
By Will Tunstall
Callahan’s early output under the Smog pseudonym was spotty. Sparse. Lo-fi
to the point of ambiguity. His first proper solo album, Woke On A Whaleheart,
took an impressive step in a clearer, more upbeat direction. His second effort,
Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle, trended moodier. Darker. Even a little
angry. And now Apocalypse arrives wrapped in a magical, mysterious shroud.
It only clocks in at seven songs and 40 minutes — but Bill Callahan could
sing for hours surrounded by nothing but air, and his voice would still carry
a megaton weight. “Drover” is the clear standout of the album, boasting an
ominous, high-steppin’ acoustic backbone, a spooky drum line, and a jagged
fiddle riff as Callahan talks antiquated topics like cattle and crops. The song
also highlights why Bill Callahan may never be the mainstream cat’s meow
— his vocals ramble, repeating seemingly insignificant words with no rhyme
or reason.
“Baby’s Breath” similarly starts and stops in fits, with paranoid electric guitar
fills overtaking Callahan’s soft country strum. And “America!” is a militaristic
abstract prose poem that’s witty and intellectual but tough to enjoy in its
quirkiness. Likewise with the meandering “Universal Applicant” and the notquite-fleshed-out “Free’s.” But “Riding For The Feeling” furthers “Drover’s”
Old West aesthetic, a stark atmosphere that Callahan does superbly well.
And “One Fine Morning” finds the Texas songwriter at his best, plinking out
warm piano chords, twisting his way through nine-and-a-half minutes of
indirect metaphors involving mountains and valleys and “no more drovering,”
bringing the album full circle. Apocalypse is aloof yet personal. Hesitant yet
sure-footed. Will it be a mainstream hit? Definitely not. Will it one day be
hailed as an artistic masterpiece? Definitely. By Nick McGregor