MUSIC: Morrissey is None of Your Business

Morrissey had everything stacked against him once 2014 began. It had been five years since he last released an album (the career nadir that was Years of Refusal; I refused it.) Countless cancelled shows and tours, health woes, increasingly over-the-top political and social statements, and dumping his long-term opening act/friend Kristeen Young for giving him a cold; the man was teetering on becoming a buffoon cartoon and then falling in head first to irrelevance.

Needless to say, I had low hopes when a new album was announced late last year. Then, the long-gestating Autobiography was released and I read it with relish. Despite one-fifth of the book being devoted to his late '90s court case alone, it contained so many insights into the making of a male diva. By the last page, I had renewed faith in Moz.

Oh yeah, that album - World Peace is None of Your Business. It was finally released this week. After reading a middling review on Pitchfork and a glowing review on The Quietus (my two main musical news outlets), I had to get to the bottom of it. I bought the Deluxe Edition (True to the description, it adds six additional songs, ostensibly making this the first (studio) double album of Morrissey's entire career; too much?) I decided to test out my first listen in the most un-Morrissey of locations: on the elliptical machine at the gym.

I have to admit I was pleasantly surprised. Does it sail to the solo triumphs of the late '80s/early '90s? Of course not, but it is his most solid offering in many, many years and probably his most musically interesting in decades. We all know Morrissey isn't a musician per se and pretty much plays producer/bandleader/yes or no man for his group of musicians/songwriting partners. Thankfully he's let them spread their wings this time. No more albums full of guitar/bass/drums mid-tempo plodding rockers. I couldn't take another album of them, honestly. Moz needed to give up his need to "ROCK." I wasn't convinced he could. I was wrong.

Flamenco guitar, harps, piano, accordion, organ, horns and more pepper this album; a didgeridoo (of all things) opens the affair! The man has trusted his band to expand their palate and they take him up on the offer. Morrissey also embraces his appetite for ballads again and places a few of them neatly throughout the album. I thought his ballads were going to be a lost art.

Flashes to his past shine through, in both music and lyrics. The chugging drums and bass come in at 2:43 on "I'm Not a Man" reminding me of the thrust of "The Last of the Famous International Playboys," while the sprightly strum of "Staircase at the University" could have been a Bona Drag outtake. "Kiss Me A Lot" is a sequel to 2004's "Let Me Kiss You"; in fact, sequels seem to appear elsewhere on this album. 'Istanbul' is the flipside of 'Piccadilly Palare' - father searching for a city-bound runaway teenage son. 'Kick the Bride Down the Aisle' follows the story of The Smiths' 'William, It Was Really Nothing': wedding-craving, wanna-be bride and Morrissey 30 years later, still sticking his nose in.

A new interest in life outside of the English kitchen-sink dramas shows that Morrissey is no longer as provincial as his critics like to clamor on about. Places name-checked on this album include Turkey, Spain, Scandinavia, Egypt, Greece, "Ukraine to Bahrain"; Morrissey's interest in the world around him has expanded further than anyone could have imagined from the Meat is Murder days.

And let us not forget the words, his stock in trade. Although for some bewildering reason the Deluxe Edition of this digital album does not come with a lyrics booklet (grrrr), just hearing his crisp elocution, you can hear that the man has not lost his edge, even when 18 tracks seems a few too many. Maybe writing 457 pages of an autobiography made him reset his lyrical mind.

"Neal Cassady drops dead/and Allen Ginsberg's tears shampoo his beard/Neal Cassady drops dead/and Allen Ginsberg's hosed down in a barn"

"Or they will disable you with tasers/that's what government's for"

"Don Juan picaresque wifebeater vest"

"Staircase at the university/she threw herself down/and her head split three ways"

Oh, I live for his attention to detail. He's one of the reasons I wanted to become a lyricist. Just those few gems (of many here) made me smile. Maybe he didn't pack up shop back in the mid '00s, after all.

MUSIC: 5-10-15-20: Me at: 10 (1982): Culture Club 'Kissing to be Clever'

I believe my first piece of recorded music I bought with my own money was The Go-Go's 'We Got the Beat' 45. I bought it for 25 cents from a neighbor kid; his loss. I was also a pro at taping songs off of Top 40 radio; this was the era of blank audio cassettes, mind you. What a mind-blowing invention, one that had kids across America holding up portable tape recorders to TV sets and speakers to record the music.

But the first full album that I bought (on cassette, of course) was Culture Club's Kissing to be Clever. That quick trip to K-Mart with my mother that day brought me closer to pop fandom.

I had seen the band on 'Solid Gold', America's version of the UK's 'Top of the Pops' (plus sexy dancers), the week before. Watching Culture Club perform 'Time (Clock of the Heart)' with my older sister, I was mesmerized by Boy George's look, presence, and of course, voice.

"You know that that's a guy, right?" my sister told me.

"No way!" I said. Ten-year-old mind blown.

It threw me into a world of New Wave, British pop, and music videos. I was sold.

MUSIC: 5-10-15-20: Me at: 5 (1977): Meco 'Star Wars Disco'

OK, so I'm cribbing the idea from Pitchfork's ongoing series '5-10-15-20,' but since they aren't going to be interviewing me anytime soon, I thought I'd start my own version for this blog, ages 5-40. I recommend to my readers to do their own. It's a clever and rewarding experience to dig through your own musical past.

Me at: 5 (1977)
Song: Meco - 'Star Wars Theme - Disco version)

Obviously, when you are only five-years-old you are at the musical whim of whatever your parents are buying or listening to. I was five to my brother's eight and we were both obsessed with Star Wars, as was any child of our age/generation. Anything Star Wars, everything Star Wars. Even a rinky-dink 'disco' cover of the theme song. It's novelty records like this that are made for children. They don't see the stupidity of it all, only the fun.

I remember my parents record player in the basement. Picture a giant, seven-foot long brown wooden credenza; open the lid and you'll find the record player and the storage for all those 45s. Is five to young to operate a stereo and load up 45s on the turntable? I was a pro. I remember endlessly twirling around to this Star Wars theme on the basement floor.

My alternate jam and second favorite 45 was ABBA's 'Knowing Me, Knowing You.' I think I stared at this cover for hours in my childhood, thinking they were sooo beautiful, even though Benny and Bjorn looked kinda like neighborhood dads. Maybe if I walked around my snowy Minneapolis in 1977 I would have seen these two couples in the window?

MUSIC: It's Raining Today

Speaking of 30th anniversaries, the weekend of May 4th, 1984 gave us two genius artistic presents: the previously blogged about 16 Candles and this beautiful gem, Echo and the Bunnymen's fourth studio album Ocean Rain.

Before you even hit play, you could gaze at that cover image for hours. Such beauty in the cobalt blue glow of it all. Then there's the music:

This single 'The Killing Moon' (given a re-evaluation, after its striking placement at the beginning of the film Donnie Darko), is gorgeous encapsulation of this album. It's the post-punk gloomy rock of the band's origins, but put through a filter of strings and tinkling synths.

Album opener 'Silver' bustles with spirit and is anthemic in a different way than their contemporaries/rivals U2. This album has all the drama and majesty of U2's War and The Unforgettable Fire, but none of the Christian imagery or self-righteous pomposity. Ocean Rain is a much more romantic, melancholy, surreal, dreamlike experience than Bono and co.'s mid-'80s output.

It's hard not to get lost in the epic sway and beauty of the title track:

The Bunnymen are about to release a new studio album, Meteorites, this month. The lead single 'Lovers on the Run' has a slight Ocean Rain resemblance without aping the sound. Kudos to the band for coming back again with a great new single, 35 years on from their origins.

FILM: 46 Candles...but who's counting?

[This promo photo for the film obviously never happened in the film, just an image to inspire fan fiction]

Sunday, May 3rd is the 30th anniversary (30 YEARS!) of the release of the epic 16 Candles. One of the first American films to take the journey of a teenager from the girl's perspective as the lead. And what a lead: Molly Ringwald.

If you didn't want to date her, you wanted to be her, or be her BFF, or just steal her clothes and music collection. Is this from the '80s? Those are some serious AggroPastels [product placement]:

OK, maybe not that track but how about the soundtrack to the moment your crush sees you while he's dancing with his heartless Stepford teen girlfriend ("God, I love it when your parents are out of town. I fantasize that I'm your wife and we're the richest, most popular adults in town.")

Or the moment you're crying to yourself in an empty school hallway at the dance, while Stepford and her minions walk by with a casual "How'sitgoin'?"; "Let's blow off this dance; I'm bored to the brink of insanity."

I think millions of straight girls and gay boys may have sat in study hall, post-1984 and dreamed of their own Jake Ryan. Oh, dreamy Michael Schoeffling and those boots; I wanted them (both):

But it all comes down to missing your sister's wedding reception, driving in a cherry red Porsche (duh; it's the '80s), getting a big birthday cake and sitting on a glass-top table (hoping it doesn't shatter under the weight; has this happened post-1984?)

"Make a wish."

"It already came true."

MUSIC: 'Sisy' Boy Sufjan

[The lead photo is just a gratuitous chance to feature Sufjan Stevens in a swimsuit]

NYC (via Michigan) folksinger turned indie darling Sufjan Stevens is a wonder. And that is not just due to the ageless nature of his beauty, it's the way he's taken a 180 from the balladeer and character study-driven songwriting on two albums devoted to two Midwestern states' history (Michigan and Illinois), to become an electronic experimenter.

After coming to fame with his 2005 Illinois album (and some years off to do an endless train of Christmas records), he snuck back in with 2010's The Age of Adz - a sprawling album with Sufjan's folk stylings covered in synths and drum programming.

Now Sufjan has a new band, Sisyphus (named after the disappointed, rock-rolling mythological character) and a full-length album. Joined by electronic artist Son Lux and rapper (yes, I said rapper) Serengeti, Sisyphus makes modern rap/indie RnB style jams. If you're a devotee of his odes to the Lord from his acoustic Seven Swans album, you might have your head twisted hearing his latest collaboration: https://soundcloud.com/sisyphusmusic

I'm not a fan of the rap elements (which comprise a large portion of the album); they are too standard and boring. I would have been more impressed if Sufjan had released this as a solo album under his own name. It is a slick, well-produced modern pop/RnB/hip-hop album and coming from him, that's a bit crazy.

Watch the sublime video for the stand-out song 'Take Me' - lush, beautiful and very modern sounding. NSFW-video, with flashes of bare chests, so beware if that's a problem:

Much like how U2 went all Europop, dance and electronic with their three '90s albums, only after Pet Shop Boys shocked them with their 1991 cover of 'Where the Streets Have No Name,' Sufjan heard my band's 2007 electronic cover of his orchestral anthem 'Chicago' and a few years later came back with a synth-coated take on his own work. Right? Stranger things have happened.

Oh and I leave you with this coz...do you need a reason?

MUSIC: The Same Deep Water as Robert

Today marks the 25th anniversary, a quarter century, of the release of The Cure's pinnacle album, Disintegration. There seem to be very few bands who release an album and you know immediately that this may either be their last work or the last truly great thing. This album was one of those moments. [Note: I have to give credit to their 1992 follow-up Wish for being quite a great record in retrospect; it would have been a sweet swan song...but no, it was not the last.]

What an anniversary for this piece of art on a day when it will be sunny and 90 degrees in Portland. Well, the freakish element of the weather is something Robert Smith would love...from the shadow of his mansion's darkest, coolest room.

With every tinkle of our neighbor's wind chimes in their backyard (i.e., any time the wind blows more than a whisper), I'm immediately brought back to the pretty intro to the album, right before the crash of an opulent strings (all keyboards?) comes in on 'Plainsong' and starts of the journey.

The slinky, creepy 'Lullaby' is Robert Smith at his best, making nursery-rhyme lyrics come alive alongside the darker ends of modern pop music. No one else was getting into the UK Top 10 with singles like this.

All of the epically long dirges on this album are the crystalization of what this band does best: sustained mood, longing, sadness:

Even the upbeat songs on Disintegration ('Love Song,' 'Fascination Street,' the title track), carry an undercurrent of gloom or melancholy. It is The Cure, of course.

So, where is Robert Smith now? The Cure have been dormant for over five years now and the output of the last 20 years has been hit or miss, mainly miss (or a haze of guitar boredom). Will he ever rise from his slumber and give us something that even comes near Disintegration? No, Bloodflowers wasn't it.