Deep in the Internet abyss, past the viral videos and all the insufferable memes lies Common Ground, a haven where one can find solace and camaraderie through a shared passion for music.
Deep in the Internet abyss, past the viral videos and all the insufferable memes lies Common Ground, a haven where one can find solace and camaraderie through a shared passion for music. We are simply two college students fascinated by the complexities of music who have decided to put our love for music in words.
Ultimately, we hope to grow as music listeners and writers and hope to give you, the audience, a steady stream of new and interesting content. Hopefully, this will become a comfortable medium through which we can relay our opinions and reflections to you.
In beginning this blog, we have decided to first look back at 2010 to assess the most distinctive albums of the year, reviews that will likely culminate in a “Best of 2010” list. In the new year, however, we will look forward and begin to review new albums. We also hope to feature articles on the rich Boston music scene. You never quite know what will happen...
If you have any opinions too, please leave us a comment or send us an email.
Arcade Fire has a knack for setting my imagination wild. To me, 2004’s modern classic Funeral felt like a raging fire spreading through a small and wintery Canadian town whereas 2007’s Neon Bible was more of a late night walk through post-9/11 New York City. The Suburbs projects an image of Win Butler taking a mid-afternoon drive through his old hometown, past his old house, high school, and park while lamenting the loss of his childhood.While the Suburbs may not be the best of Arcade Fire’s three albums (Funeral still reigns supreme), it is certainly a whole new masterpiece. Whereas Funeral gave us moments of reflection in songs such as “Neighborhood #1” (Tunnels),” The Suburbs further reflects on the past, childhood, and all that’s changed as we grow older.
Right from the start, The Suburbs is different from any other Arcade Fire album. The opening track (“The Suburbs”) with its playful shuffle and musical cheerfulness serves as a perfect musical counterpoint to Neon Bible’s closer, “My Body Is A Cage.” Whereas the latter built into a bombastically brilliant catharsis with its constant church organ, “The Suburbs” sounds surprising simple and reserved for Arcade Fire, however, not any less beautiful. Under the track’s guise of musical cheeriness lies a much bleaker exploration of returning home after years away. Arcade Fire’s chief lyricist, Win Butler reflects upon his roots in the suburbs of Houston; such a return isn’t a lavish celebration, but rather a dreary journey into childhood, when life was simpler. Throughout the course of the album, Butler remembers those who have since forgotten him and those dreams that have been long unfulfilled.
In the title track, Butler seems to long for the past (“but in my dreams we're still screamin' and runnin' through the yard”) even though as a child he was desperate to get out of the suburbs. “The Suburbs” also contains one of the most beautiful moments of the album in which Butler longingly pleads, “So can you understand? Why I want a daughter while I'm still young, I wanna hold her hand and show her some beauty before this damage is done. But if it's too much to ask, it's too much to ask, then send me a son.” Win Butler realizes that he is growing older, having just entered his 30s, and while he longs for his childhood spent in the suburbs, he also wants to move on to the next phase of his life: parenthood.
“Suburban War” appears halfway through the album and serves as a microcosm for the whole record. Lyrically striking, the track recalls friendships long gone as Butler continues the image of driving through his suburb, remarking how his ever-changing hometown seems so distant to him (“This town’s so strange - they built it to change and while we sleep, we know the streets get rearranged”). Butler laments those years long ago “with my old friends it was so different then,” however there can be no return to the fondly-remembered past. “Suburban War” slowly builds, climaxing in a crashing and tom-tom banging spree in which Butler croons, “all my old friends, they don’t know me now.” Here, Bulter copes with the inescapable reality that as we grow older, we lose touch with those who we once loved. Despite this, Butler can never forget those who have had such a strong place in his life (“Now the cities we live in could be distant stars and I search for you in every passing car”).
Arcade Fire Standing Around a Car. Fitting?
In the beautiful closer, “The Suburbs (Continued)”, the band transforms the cheerful shuffle of the title track into a melancholy reflection on the passing of time. In this song, Win Butler whispers that “If I could have it back, all the time that we wasted, I'd only waste it again, If I could have it back, you know I would love to waste it again.” These despairingly beautiful lyrics, combined with the grandioso string arrangement give magnificence to Butler’s message that time wasted is time well spent.
However, this album isn’t just a sad lament of childhood and all things past, it is still very much a great rock record. After the final chords of “The Suburbs” play, we are instantly grabbed into the anthemic “Ready To Start” which pounds into listeners the painfulness and awkwardness at the end of a relationship in which one isn’t quite ready to “still be friends.” “Rococo” is a unique track that sounds like a tongue-in-cheek jab at “modern kids” and the so-called ‘hipster’ culture. “Empty Room” is a hectic and fun romp complete with spiraling string arrangements that transitions wonderfully into “City With No Children.” The album makes of a bit of a somber change with the string-heavy “Half Light I,” however, before the album can continue along this calmer pace, Arcade Fire brings us back with the electronic-ish “Half Light II (No Celebration).” The unexpected, Queens-of-the-Stone-Age sounding, “Month of May,” may be disliked by many, yet, it is a fun change-of-pace rocker that while not adding to the overall meaning of the album, certainly doesn’t detract from it. The Suburbs shines again with “We Used to Wait,” a track driven by piano and drums that eloquently builds and crashes before “Sprawl (Flatland)” picks up the audience and once again drives them through Win Butler’s hometown. The melancholy “(Flatland)” leads to the most cheerful song yet, “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)”, a synth-heavy throwback to ABBA and the disco years in which Régine Chassagne reflects on a childhood spent “living in the sprawl.”
Win Butler and Régine Chassagne:
Music's Best Couple?
Overall, The Suburbs is much more emotionally-wrenching than any of Arcade Fire’s previous albums. The lyrics are those of a band at its strongest, showing more emotional meaning than Funeral while being less overtly political than Neon Bible. While the lyrics may be radiant, the music is still very strong. Even so, The Suburbs sounds more subdued than previous efforts. The songs of The Suburbs are not nearly as extravagant (especially the harmonies and string arrangements) and yet, it doesn’t detract. Arcade Fire turned down their lavishness for this record in order to further the sense of remorse, regret, and reflection of a past that can no longer be attained.
Pros:
-Amazing beautiful musical arrangements and lyrics that heighten the band’s mournful loss of childhood.
-While some may complain about the length of the album (clocking in at just over an hour), I personally love the dedication Arcade Fire showed by releasing such a sprawling record. Honestly, while some songs may not be as strong as the others, not one of the songs is outright bad.
-Effectively continues Arcade Fire’s sonic development. All of their three albums are marvelous which sounding unique in their own ways.
Cons:
-“The Suburbs (Continued)” is such a beautiful piece of music that I would love to continue for another minute or two.
-Songs such as “Wasted Hours” or “Deep Blue” could be further developed.
With such a vibrant career and with innumerable disciples in contemporary music, Robert Plant doesn’t need to annually churn out records to remain relevant. Yet, it seems the former Led-Zeppelin frontman’s thirst for new challenges is insatiable. Plant opened this fall with Band of Joy, his ninth solo album and his second featuring nearly all covers. Increasingly drawn back to the music of the early 1960s, especially that of country-capital Nashville, TN, Plant sought to “bring his personality” to classics, enlisting the help of other veteran musicians to bring “the dynamic music scene of the 1960s to now.
The strongest tracks off Band of Joy can be credited to Buddy Miller, a seasoned songwriter and producer from Nashville who designed the rhythm section that drives the album. The tightest track, “Angel Dance”(a Los Lobos cover), exemplifies this rambling momentum and achieves the “confident and proud” tone Plant aimed for. The mandolin accompaniment also adds to the verve of the track, simultaneously recalling both the Great Smokey and the MistyMountains rooted deep in Plant’s musical past.
Plant Returning to Roots
Continuing Plant’s rustic treatment of “Angel Dance”, the best of the album are tracks that mirror the same grit of American music that John and Alan Lomax captured in their time capsule of rural America. The darkest, “Satan, Your Kingdom Must Come Down”, is particularly effective in relating its history as a black spiritual; Plant’s dragging vocals backed by the band’s haunting moans pull listeners along the undulating sway of slave marches that flattened American cotton fields for centuries. Plant’s rendition of the folk-classic “Cindy” (titled here as “Cindy, I’ll Marry you Sometime”), is exemplary of variable American folk tradition; the frequently-covered piece features both Plant’s renovations and tributes the Appalachian tradition from whence it came. “Central Two-O-Nine”, the album’s only original, combines the strengths of the previous pieces to create an organic, yet unique, sound that incorporates all of Plant’s influences to provide natural steamrolling emotion.
With such success out of tradition, it is logical that Band of Joy fails when Plant tries to deviate from his roots. The tracks “Silver Rider”, “The Only Sound that Matters”, and “Monkey” are essentially identical - far too ethereal attempts at Pink-Floyd-esque arrangements that ultimately fall flat from monotony. Additionally, the recurring pairing of Plant with Patty Griffin’s vocals simply doesn’t work, as the overly-breathy combination distort when they intersect, preventing any communication of emotion.
Collectively, Band of Joy is a dignified album. Plant’s bow to the American music tradition compels the listener to in turn bend to Plant, grateful for his revival of roots often buried in the electric mainstream. At sixty-two, Plant’s voice is slightly scorched around the edges, but it remains cored with the same wholesome power that has always commanded attention. And one should pay attention. With his expansive library, Robert Plant doesn’t need to create anything new -- and in Band of Joy, he really doesn’t. It seems that Plant made this album for himself to further connect with the ghosts of his antecedents. But even as a personal and individualized record, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t listen.
Ultimately, we hope to grow as music listeners and writers and hope to give you, the audience, a steady stream of new and interesting content. Hopefully, this will become a comfortable medium through which we can relay our opinions and reflections to you.
