The New (and Improved) Coldplay

I wasn’t quite sure what I expected when I bought Coldplay’s new album earlier this week—I suppose I expected it to be a lot of patented sappy love songs and stadium anthems for the middle class preppies in the suburbs (I bought my copy in Starbucks, after all). But I have to say, this album shocked me—in a very good way. Is this really Coldplay? These songs are inventive—even progressive! They still have that ethereal “to the rafters” grandeur to them, but—amazingly—they are more restrained and nuanced than anything they have ever done.

From the gorgeous, electronic instrumental opening (“Life in Technicolor”) to the ghostly hidden coda track (“The Escapist”… aka part II of “Death and All His Friends”), this is an album of lush musical diversity and sonic subtleties. It’s exquisite. It’s not radio-friendly in the least (apart from the title track), but it may very well prove to be their most popular album. It’s certainly their best since Parachutes.

It’s also an album that—in some ways—represents what an album could (should?) be in this era of the death of the album. It is fitting that Coldplay’s “Viva la Vida” song has been in all the iTunes ads this spring. This is an album for the iTunes age. With ala carte music consumption, music has re-oriented itself to songs over albums, randomized playlists over coherent LPs. Viva la Vida is an album in the sense that it is one collection of songs released together, but other than that it seems to be something altogether different. These songs have little to do with one another, and some sections of some of the songs have little to do with other sections.

Indeed, I wonder how we can categorize “songs” in the context of this album. Several tracks on Viva have more than one musical thought going on. Track 5 is the clearest example: “Lovers in Japan / Reign of Love” is a couplet of an upbeat rock number and a mournful electro-ballad, respectively. You might say the latter (which is my favorite song on the album) compliments the former, but I’m hard-pressed to see them as anything more than two completely separate emotional moments juxtaposed because, well, sometimes our moods change that fast.

Other songs on the album don’t even name their dual sections. Track 6, “Yes,” begins as an eastern-inspired minor chord anthem about sexual frustration (featuring Chris Martin singing in the lowest key he’s ever attempted) and then becomes a breezy shoegazer romp (apparently called “Chinese Sleep Chant,” but not advertised as such on the album cover). Same goes for the final track, “Death and All His Friends,” which ends on a rousing, rhythmically-daring note, only to be followed by the aforementioned fade-out song (“The Escapist,” also unadvertised). Many of these multi-section songs could easily have been split into separate tracks, but they weren’t. Why? It’s almost as if Coldplay is rewarding iTunes buyers by giving them two-for-one specials; or perhaps they are just showing how interesting an album of haphazard shifts and unpredictable turns can be.

The album feels totally incoherent, but in a coherent sort of way. It feels like an album of the 21st century, where our only frame of reference is, in fact, disjointedness. The album mimics our digitally fragmented lives, when everything is on shuffle and our attentions and cares and feelings are so interchangeable and fluid that sixty minutes of musical narrative (even five minutes of one song) have a hard time connecting with us. Indeed, Coldplay’s lyrics on this album are hardly narrative at all—just words and thoughts and random images, strewn together paratextually in the way our laptop screens bind together our images, emails, memories, interests, and connections. We are a windows world now; our interfaces are multifarious and rarely singularly focused. Sometimes we feel mournful (“Cemeteries of London”), sometimes joyful (“Strawberry Swing”), but hardly ever do we feel wholly one or the other. Coldplay’s album is the musical embodiment of this.

The title alone (Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends) shows how eclectic this album really is. The use of Spanish indicates the international feel of the music, and the nonsensical bonus title shows that the album is, well, anything you want it to be. Viva borrows bits and pieces of world music (Middle-eastern, North African, Latin American, etc) and borrows from a wild array of styles—everything from shoegazer to tribal organ to electronic minimalism. It’s pastiche of the highest order, and I absolutely love it.

Kitschiest Christian Songs Ever!

I’ve been pretty hard on contemporary Christian music on this blog, but let me just say this: it’s much better today than it was, say, ten or fifteen years ago. But who knows, maybe we’ll say the same thing about today’s music ten years from now. In any event, I thought it would be fun (in a self-flagellating sort of way) to revisit some of the kitschy horrors of Christian music’s past. These are the songs that dominated the “special music” circuit at evangelical churches everywhere back in the 90s. They are the ones we wish to forget, but also have a semi-fondness for (ironically, of course!). Here are my picks for the top ten kitschiest Christian songs of all time, with visual aids where available!

10) TIE: “This Means War!” and “Get on Your Knees and Fight Like a Man” – I couldn’t decide which cheesy Petra song to include, so I just picked these two (which might be the cheesiest). These songs may not be familiar to many, but as examples of deliciously awful 80s Christian metal, these gems more than represent. Thank you John Schlitt, for being the big-haired bad boy of CCM. You gotta love hellfire-and-brimstone lyrics like this: “Now it's all over down to the wire / Counting the days to your own lake of fire.”

9) “El Shaddai” – This 1982 classic, penned by Amy Grant and Michael Card, is as vintage CCM kitsch as you can get. The desperately somber, uber-melodic song features multi-lingual lyrics that lend it its patented sense of gravitas. This song also works very well when performed in sign language (preferably by a church’s “signers ministry”).

8) “Household of Faith” – There was a time in the 90s when this harmony-heavy Steve Green song was performed at every Baptist wedding within a six state area. But apparently people are still (remarkably) choosing this as a wedding song, as recently as 2007. And it looks like it’s still a favorite for Sunday night special music as well!

7) “Who’s In the House? (Kickin’ it for Christ)” – Ne’er was there a more disastrous attempt at white guy Christian rap than in this Carmen catastrophe from 1993. And the scary thing is there are still Christians getting jiggy to this song. See this horrifying clip from Jesus Camp. Oh, and for more painful laughs, here’s the official music video.

6) “Via Dolorosa” – Anyone who grew up in a Baptist church no doubt saw this Spanglish tearjerker performed by some unfortunate wannabe soprano once or twice as a “special music.” Props to the “first diva” of Christian music, Sandi “the Voice” Patty, for this gem!

5) “Behold the Lamb” – Subtlety is a rarity on this list, but it is absolutely nowhere to be found in this overblown wonder. Check out the video of David Phelps singing it. If there was a Christian version of American Idol, this would be performed every season.

4) “In the Presence of Jehovah” – This song is a great example of the popular “white church ladies trying to sing black” church music genre. Tons of opps for runs and trills, crazy vibrato and hand flailing. It’s also a great one for making the old ladies cry, and sometimes works well with a wind machine!

3) "People Need the Lord" – The most epic of all Steve Green songs! This tear-inducing evangelistic anthem is oft-used as background music during missionary montage videos. It also makes for a good duet, though be warned: his one is excruciating to watch!

2) "Thank You For Giving to the Lord" – This 1988 Ray Boltz weepie is the quintessential offertory anthem. Put some dynamo tenor in a suit up on stage and poof, the money will pour into the offering plates. This one definitely warrants a youtube viewing. Get those Kleenex ready!

1) “Love in Any Language” – This song beats them all. Just watch this fantastic video of (who else?) Sandi Patty leading a multi-ethnic chorus in a “we are the world”-type performance at some Gaither family event. I mean… what can be said?

BONUS! - “I Pledge Allegiance to the Lamb”: I simply can’t resist mentioning this song—another Ray Boltz classic. 

My Favorite Movie Scores

This week the accomplished film-music composer Hans Zimmer spoke to one of my classes at UCLA, regaling us with stories of getting fired by Stanley Kubrick (on Full Metal Jacket), hired by Terrence Malick (who sought Zimmer out for The Thin Red Line because he loved the music in Disney’s The Lion King), and composing the “unprecedented” two-note Joker theme for the upcoming film, The Dark Knight.

Zimmer was quite interesting and gave me a new appreciation for the importance and artistry of film scoring. He also got me thinking about the films scores I have loved over the years—those that (in my opinion) elevated the films they accompanied to goosebump-inducing heights. The following is my list of my favorite ten movie scores of all time. What are your favorites?

10) Mulholland Drive – Angelo Badalamenti: Like in his other work for David Lynch, Badalamenti creates a score here that is thick and layered and mysterious. Just like the film.

9) 25th Hour – Terrence Blanchard: This brooding, daring, deeply emotional score provides a cathartic and memorable accompaniment to Spike Lee’s sadly overlooked post-9/11 elegy.

8) Pride & Prejudice – Dario Marianelli: Marianelli received a lot of attention for his Atonement score last year, but I think his best work so far has been the lush, piano-driven score for Joe Wright’s 2005 version of Pride & Prejudice. Who can forget the impressionistic effect of the minimalist music in the famous sunrise scene at the end?

7) Hoosiers – Jerry Goldsmith: Music is so important for rousing sports movies (see Chariots of Fire), and in my view Jerry Goldsmith sets the standard with his synthy work in Hoosiers. Totally 80s… but totally timeless. It almost always makes me want to stand up and cheer.

6) Dances With Wolves – John Barry: Say what you will about the movie itself, but the sweeping, romantic score by the legendary John Barry is absolutely unforgettable. Combined with the film’s gorgeous western landscape photography, this music really soars.

5) Lord of the Rings trilogy – Howard Shore: The music in LOTR is bombastic and ubiquitous… but in all the right ways. So many memorable themes and melodies and moments. The climactic moment in Return of the King when Sam picks up Frodo on Mt. Doom and the music swells to the theme… Oh, man, it gets me every time.

4) Days of Heaven – Ennio Morricone: It was either this or The Mission for the obligatory inclusion of an Ennio Morricone score. I’ll go with Days, because it’s one of my favorite movies of all time… and Morricone’s score is such a beautiful tragedy.

3) Star Wars (the entire series) – John Williams: What can I say? It’s iconic. The Imperial March, the Cantina theme, the stunning main titles, even the “Duel of the Fates”… I don’t know what Star Wars would be without its wonderful music.

2) Braveheart – James Horner: Okay, so it’s true: music has never been more shamelessly employed for a tear-jerker ending. But it’s an ending that—thanks in no small part to the music—provides one of cinema’s most emotionally cathartic moments. Add in some bagpipe and woodwind glory and this is one of the most satisfying film scores I’ve ever heard.

1) The Thin Red Line – Hans Zimmer: A lot of people will tell you that Gladiator is Zimmer’s best film score, but in my view it doesn’t hold a candle to his masterful soundtrack to Terrence Malick’s epic WWII film. Utilizing a cacophony of dreamy strings, exotic chants, riffs on folk hymns, and otherworldy melodies, Zimmer creates a soundscape of Germanic romanticism and Heideggerian phenomenology—so fitting for a Malick film.

Just missed the list: The Hours (Philip Glass), American Beauty (Thomas Newman), The Godfather (Nino Rota), E.T. (John Williams), Last of the Mohicans (Randy Edelman), The Fountain (Clint Mansell), Million Dollar Baby (Clint Eastwood), The Mission (Ennio Morricone), There Will Be Blood (Johnny Greenwood), Out of Africa (John Barry), Letters from Iwo Jima (Kyle Eastwood), The Cider House Rules (Rachel Portman).

Congratulations David Cook!

Kansas City is on a winning streak this Spring. In April, KC's favorite hometown college (The University of Kansas) won the NCAA championship in basketball. Now we have another winner to boast: the newly-crowned American Idol, David Cook. Now if only the Royals can get above .500...

Cook beat "little David" by twelve million votes--a landslide victory even in spite of the judges' effusive praise for David "I can sing the phone book with my eyes closed" Archuleta. Turns out America is ready for an American Idol winner who actually writes and plays music. Imagine that! I hope the Idol handlers can improve Cook's talent (or at least not ruin him)... he already has one album under his belt (his self-released Analog Heart) and the forthcoming major-label debut should be interesting. Maybe he'll do more Mariah Carey covers!

Transmedia Superstars

When Scarlett Johansson announced she was going to release an album of Tom Waits cover songs, she was just the latest in a long line of celebrities who have “crossed over” from one media form to another—in her case, film to music. Celebs have been doing this for a long time, but these days it is happening with increasing frequency, it seems. Indeed, the “media-specific” star is pretty much dead; instead, we have “transmedia” superstars—those stars who transcend media forms and disseminate their personality in a multiplicity of forms and outlets.

It’s easy to see why this type of star is increasingly the norm. It has to do with shifts in the industrial landscape of Hollywood and the entertainment business. In a word: conglomeration. Disney was the first Hollywood “major” to introduce the concept of horizontal-integration back in the 50s, when it began cross-promoting Disney’s brand on television, in film, and in theme parks, earning money from each but also from the synergistic effects of the whole enterprise. Then in the 80s, government deregulation paved the way for more and more entertainmnent companies to combine and form massive conglomerates, so that one parent company (Viacom, for example) had control over film companies, TV channels (both network and cable), record companies, book publishers, etc. The result was an explosion of cross-promotion and intertextual dialogues: films based on television shows, television shows featuring the music by so-and-so, books based on films, etc… Throw in the Internet and it all adds up to a convergence in which media forms more fluidly relate to each other, telling the same stories just in different, though complimentary, ways.

Success in this sort of environment lives and dies on the strength of brand—namely brands that are strong enough to thrive on a multitude of media platforms (think The Matrix, Lord of the Rings, or Sex and the City)—and what better brands are there than celebrities? When you see a celebrity’s name on a movie poster, you know what that movie will offer. Quentin Tarantino is a brand. So is Beyonce. And Oprah, well, she’s the mother of all celeb brands.

For these celeb-brands, it makes sense (both for themselves and for the industries that finance them) to expand to as many media forms as possible. If I’m Oprah and I know millions of people will do whatever it is I do (or say), why not have a TV show, an entire TV channel, a magazine, some made-for-TV movies, a book club brand, and so on… In this day and age, there are no longer “movie stars” or “TV stars” as much as there are just “stars”… famous people with their hands in a little bit of everything.

American Idol epitomizes this whole idea. The point of the show isn’t so much to make music stars as it is to make stars. It’s a show about how to become famous; and once famous, its offspring can make money in a variety of ways. Idol alums have sold a lot of records, obviously, but they’ve also made a lot of money for FOX as TV stars, and some of them have become movie stars (Jennifer Hudson), Broadway stars (Clay Aiken, Tamyra Gray), and so on…

Obviously some transmedia careers are better than others, and some “brands” are just not strong enough to thrive in multiple platforms (and sometimes the talent isn’t there). As an example of this whole phenomenon, here’s my list of the best and worst of the transmedia superstars:

Best

• Beyonce - Media conquered: music, movies, fashion, Jay-Z
• Miley Cyrus - Media conquered: music, television, movies, live concerts, theme parks, awards shows, magazine covers, basically the whole world.
• Justin Timberlake - Media conquered: music, movies (he’s actually a very good actor), MTV.
• Oprah - Media conquered: everything imaginable.
• Jared Leto – Just kidding! Though he has been in some good movies (Fight Club, Requiem for a Dream) and good TV shows (My So-Called Life), his rock band (30 Seconds to Mars) is pretty terrible.

Worst

• Jewel - Media conquered: music. Media failures: movies (she wasn’t bad in Ang Lee’s Ride With the Devil, but it was totally a one-and-done for her as an actress), poetry (A Night Without Armor, anyone?).
• Britney Spears – Media conquered: music. Media failures: movies (Um… Crossroads), television (Britney and Kevin: Chaotic was a disaster, though she was pretty good on How I Met Your Mother), motherhood…
• Paris Hilton – Media conquered: nightclubs, television (The Simple Life), adult video, prison. Media failures: music (one and done with the self-titled Paris), movies (House of Wax), and general classiness.

The Art of the Cover

I’ve been thinking about covers recently, and not as in bedsheets. The cover is ubiquitous in our culture (form karaoke bars to American Idol in all its kitschy glory), but what makes a good cover? What, if anything, happens to the meaning of a song when it is covered by someone else?

Last night I went to a Cat Power concert at the Wiltern theater in Los Angeles. It was a very, very interesting show. Chan Marshall (aka Cat Power) is a strange person and a very odd performer. In years past she was known to have emotional breakdowns during shows and frequently walked off the stage, unable to finish a song or set. Last night she was gleefully happy (a little too happy if you ask me—prancing around on stage like a bunny doing the moonwalk), and she plowed through an 80-some minute set of entirely cover songs, including 5 or 6 covers of some of her own older songs.

But how, you might be wondering, does an artist cover themselves? Isn’t that just called a performance? Not if you heard Chan Marshall last night. She played a medley of songs from her 2006 album The Greatest, but they were rather unrecognizable and completely reinterpreted from their original form. At best it was intriguing, at worst terribly frustrating; but this is Cat Power. She’s all about the covers… and she’s probably the best at it. That is: the art of the cover.

Most people who cover songs take the “imitation is the best form of flattery” approach—mimicking the original song in melody, phrasing, tone, and mood. Cat Power can do this too (just listen to her spot-on rendition of Bob Dylan’s “Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again”), but her preferred method of covering songs is to reconstruct them from scratch and sculpt them in her musical image. Take her cover of the Stones’ “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction”—there is little of the original left in her morose, acoustic version, save some remote, flickering (yet very much alive) musical idea. But songs are mysterious creatures, and to each listener they are completely different things. The meaning of a song is fluid, multifarious, easily changed and infinitely pliable. Every time a song is sung or performed (whether in the shower or on stage) it means something different, so it makes sense to say that the performer and audience have just as much or more to do with the “reality” of a song as the notes, chords, and instruments. And this is what Cat Power recognizes; this is why her covers are so utterly brilliant.

Chan Marshall has now made two albums of cover songs—2000’s The Covers Record (in which she covered Neil Young, Nina Simone, The Velvet Underground, among others) and this year’sJukebox (a two disc album which covers Hank Williams, Janis Joplin, Billie Holiday, among others). These albums don’t feel like covers records, however. They feel totally original, personal, and uniquely Cat Power. For Marshall, singing other people’s songs is not just an act of mimesis or karaoke. It’s an act of reinterpretation—and that, in a way, is what all art is.

Indeed, I might argue that the art of covering is, in fact, the art of art. After all, very little art is completely original. Whether you are making a film (in which you copy the styles, conventions and motifs of other films), writing a book (abiding by centuries of literary rules) or creating music (perhaps the most derivative of all art forms), repurposing the past is just part of the game. Shakespeare was the worst offender (none of his stories are original to him), but that doesn’t diminish him as an artist. On the contrary, it’s a rare skill to be able to take other stories and inspirations and histories (as Shakespeare did) and make them something altogether better and greater in a recombinant form.

Cat Power is one artist who gets it. Her view of “the song” is an interesting one—she seems to conceive of a song as a living, free-market organism that is more about collective intelligence and cultural ownership than singular expression or solitary authorship. Indeed, it is interesting that so many of the songs she covers could be considered “folk art” tunes of the sort that define a culture/region/era rather than a particular artist. These are artifacts of people, not one person. Cat Power is just one modern girl who connects to the songs she hears and sings them in her own voice and way—embedding a song’s meaning with her own meaning (which is the only way anything ever means anything).

At a time when the remixed/repurposed/recombined seems to be the only means of creativity in our increasingly exhausted artistic climate, Cat Power is a shining, thoroughly postmodern exemplar. As classic songs are systematically stripped of meaning by the vacuous performances on American Idol two nights a week, other artists—like Cat Power—are envisioning new ways of breathing life into long-lost art and ephemeral culture.

Top Ten Albums of 2007

There were many, many great albums this year, so it is with difficulty that I construct this year’s top ten list. Any of my honorable mentions could easily take that #10 spot, as could many other albums I don’t even mention. In any case, I obviously recommend all of these albums, which are not only musically and lyrically rich, but also the most unique and forward-thinking of the year.

10) Justice, +: The French duo known as Justice released an album simply titled “cross” (the Christian symbol, not the word) and it took the dancefloor by storm in 2007. The mostly-instrumental big-beat electronica forges an uber-cool soundsystem that may or may not be a concept album (with songs like “Genesis,” “Let There Be Light” and “Waters of Nazareth”… one wonders), but is undoubtedly the best dance album of the year.

9) Waterdeep, Heart Attack Time Machine: This independent, homespun recording from Don and Lori Chaffer is one of the richest, most subtle folk albums of the year. Includes some truly beautiful ballads (“Easy Does It,” “Diana,”) and lots of whistling and finger snapping. Maybe a couple hundred people have actually heard this gem (and you can’t find it anywhere but online), but it’s definitely worth checking out.

8) Arcade Fire, Neon Bible: Not quite the tour-de-force, decade-defining album that Funeral was, but this sophomore album does anything but slump. Featuring some truly epic anthems (“Intervention,” “No Cars Go,” “The Well and the Lighthouse,” “My Body is a Cage”) that utilize more intricate instrumentation and even the occasional pipe organ, Neon Bible is every bit the blood, sweat, and tears catharsis of its predecessor.

7) Andrew Bird, Armchair Apocrypha: Another year, another exquisite album from Andrew Bird—Illinois’ favorite whistling folk hero. Apocrypha is a treasure trove of wordy lyrical passages and fine-tuned musicianship, never predictable but always easy listening. Songs like “Imitosis” and “Heretics” show Bird’s ability to be both weird and classic, and songs like the amazing “Scythian Empire” display his keen poetic grasp of modern American culture.

6) Peter, Bjorn and John, Writer’s Block: This Swedish trio follows in the footsteps of countryman Jens Lekman in concocting an infectious Motown-folk sound, even adopting a name that evokes a 60s folk staple (Peter, Paul & Mary). Their debut album, Writer’s Block, contains some whistling wonders (“Young Folks”), radio readymades (“Amsterdam”) and one of the year’s best overall songs in “Up Against the Wall.”

5) Band of Horses, Cease to Begin: This album is brimful of addictive pop melodies and sweet low country goodness. Sub Pop’s latest iteration of Shins-brand sugar pop/rock offers something less derivative and more musically interesting than most of the bands going this route. Cease to Begin feels a little bit country (“Detlef Schrempf,” “Window Blues”), a little bit rock and roll (“Marry Song,” “Is There a Ghost”), and a little haunting (“The General Specific”) in the way that the gothic South is meant to be played.

4) Panda Bear, Person Pitch: Panda Bear is the side project of Animal Collective’s frontman Noah Lennox, and even though Animal Collective’s weirdly beautiful Strawberry Jam made my honorable mention list as one of the best of 2007, it’s Panda Bear’s Person Pitch that—remarkably—pushes things even farther into the beautiful recesses of new school psychedelia. Lennox, who sounds like the Gen-Y version of Brian Wilson, fashions a painstakingly detailed, nuanced album full of buzzing layers of murmurings, oblique lyrics and repetitive samples. It’s one of the true masterpieces of the digi/DIY post-pop generation.

3) Explosions in the Sky, All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone: This album, released early in 2007, has got to be one of the most overlooked triumphs of the year. The Austin instrumental outfit (perhaps most known for its Friday Night Lights songs), makes music that soars and rumbles and bashes you around in its sheer emotional tumult. This latest album shows off an increased compositional complexity (each of the three guitar lines frequently follow separate melody lines) that gives unuttered voice to a variety of universal human emotions.

2) Radiohead, In Rainbows: Though not in the vein of the rock-minded OK Computer or the experimental epic Kid A, In Rainbows is in its own way just as progressive. Though not a concept album in the traditional sense, Rainbows is a strikingly cohesive collection with gorgeous ethereal ballads (“Nude,” “All I Need,” “House of Cards,” “Reckoner”) and a few more Hail to the Thief-era rock songs (“15 Step,” “Bodysnatchers”). On the whole, it’s an album that pushes Radiohead in a new, more sonically soothing direction, while retaining some of the cutting-edge experimentation that has defined the band.

1) The National, Boxer: The National is a New York band that has built upon (and in the case of the beautiful Boxer, improved upon) the brooding urbane sound of Interpol, with perhaps a little more of a toned down, soft stroke. You might say Boxer is the musical equivalent of an Edward Hopper painting. It’s an album for lonesome, alienated city dwellers with cold hands and warm heats, full of catchy love songs (“Slow Show,” “Start a War”) and pseudo dance-rock anthems (“Mistaken for Strangers,” “Squalor Victoria”) to compliment a long night out in the pavement jungle.

Honorable Mention: Of Montreal, Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? Burial, Untrue, Animal Collective, Strawberry Jam, LCD Soundsystem, Sound of Silver, Rosie Thomas, These Friends of Mine, Jens Lekman, Night Falls Over Kortedala, M.I.A., Kala, Over the Rhine, The Trumpet Child, Feist, The Reminder, Sunset Rubdown, Random Spirit Lover.

Top Twenty Songs of the Year

This list is not a collection of obvious singles or hits, but simply the best individual songs (in my opinion) that have come out in 2007. They include flashy pop dance songs, eccentric indie rock, and one or two songs from Sweden. They were the most-played songs on my iPod in 2007, and they are all available to buy ala carte on iTunes (well worth the 99 cents). This is the ultimate 07 playlist!

20) Animal Collective, “Peacebone” – Like nothing you’ve heard all year, trust me. Sample lyric: It was a jugular vein in a juggler’s girl / It was supposedly leaking most interesting colors.

19) LCD Soundsystem “Someone Great” – This mesmerizing 80s-sounding track is a standout on the fantastic Sound of Silver. Sample lyric: I wish that we could talk about it / But there, that's the problem.

18) Amy Winehouse, “Love is a Losing Game” – Much more chill and old-school than “Rehab,” with a great David Lynch/1950s prom dance sound. Sample lyric: Self-professed, profound, 'til the tips were down / Know you're a gambling man, love is a losing hand.

17) Band of Horses, “Ode to LRC” – An ebullient little gem from the sweetest-sounding album of the year. Sample lyric: The world is such a wonderful place /La di da, La di da, La di da, La di da.

16) Britney Spears, “Break the Ice” – Britney’s new album was packed full of deliciously produced dance tracks, and this one is perhaps the best. Sample lyric: Won’t you warm up to me / Baby I can make you feel hot hot hot hot.

15) Of Montreal, “A Sentence of Sorts in Kongsvinger” – A wonderfully out-there song with some very danceable beats and memorable lyrics. Sample lyric: I spent the winter with my nose buried in a book / While trying to restructure my character

14) Jens Lekman, “The Opposite of Hallellujah” – A breezy summer tune from a Motown-happy Swede. Sample lyric: I took my sister down to the ocean, but the ocean made me feel stupid.

13) Justice, “Genesis” – When this song lifts off around the 0:40 mark, just try not to dance. Sample lyric: There are no lyrics. Just amazing beats.

12) Kanye West, “Stronger” – The Daft Punk sample makes for the hottest Kanye track in a long time. Sample lyric: You know how long I've been on ya? Since prince was on Appolonia / Since OJ had Isotoners.

11) Explosions in the Sky, “The Birth and Death of the Day” – The majestic, heart-soaring instrumental song of the year from Austin’s premier post-rock outfit. Sample lyric: none (instrumental).

10) Rilo Kiley, “Silver Lining” – A great, twangy alt-country tune with silky-smooth vocals by Jenny Lewis. Sample lyric: I was your silver lining, but now I’m gold.

9) Bjork, “Earth Intruders” – Bjork makes a striking(ly odd) comeback with this Timbaland-produced single from her new album Volta . Sample lyric: There is turmoil out there / Carnage! Rambling! / What is to do but dig / dig bones out of earth.

8) Radiohead, “Weird Fishes / Arpeggi” – One of about six Radiohead songs that could have made it on this list. Sample lyric: In the deepest ocean / The bottom of the sea / Your eyes they turn me.

7) Eddie Vedder, “Guaranteed” – This beautiful song from the Into the Wild soundtrack is “guaranteed” to get an Oscar nomination for best original song. Sample lyric: Circles they grow and they swallow people whole / Half their lives they say goodnight to wives they'll never know.

6) Rufus Wainwright “Slideshow” – Rufus is the king of making the mundane melodramatic, and this epic tirade is a perfect example. Sample lyric: And I better be prominently featured in your next slideshow / Because I paid a lot of money to get you over here, you know?

5) Over the Rhine, “The Trumpet Child” – The most gorgeously urgent and apocalyptic Over the Rhine song since “Changes Come.” Sample lyric: The trumpet child will blow his horn / Will blast the sky till it’s reborn / With Gabriel’s power and Satchmo’s grace / He will surprise the human race.

4) Peter, Bjorn and John, “Up Against the Wall” – You’ve probably heard it on one of those trendy Levi's 501 commercials, but it’s truly one of the most satisfying songs of the year. Sample lyric: You slap just like a wake-up call / The bruises on the face don’t bother me at all.

3) Arcade Fire “Intervention” – The use of pipe organ in this powerful song is simply astounding. Sample Lyric: Working for the church while your family dies / You take what they give you and you keep it inside.

2) The National, “Ada” – Horns and glistening piano accent the brooding vocals and forlorn Gatsby imagery of this luxurious song. Sample lyric: Stand inside an empty tuxedo with grapes in my mouth, waiting for Ada.

1) Andrew Bird, “Scythian Empire” – An exquisite, timely song that captures the zeitgeist with heartbreaking eloquence. Sample lyric: Their Halliburton attaché cases are useless / While scotch guard Macintoshes shall be carbonized.

Best “Christian” Albums of all Time

Yes, it is ridiculous that there is such a thing as “Christian music.” I am totally of the mind that the contemporary Christian music industry is something that never should have existed, and that most of its output has, in fact, been utterly forgettable. That said, however, I must admit that not ALL of so-called “Christian” music (and in my definition, it’s basically any music made with Christian spirituality in mind or in heart) is horrific bilge. Some of it is good, and some even great. I suppose that in any largely-crappy genre of anything, there are some standouts. In this case, I think that the following ten albums more than hold their own in the company of any other “best-of” list, secular or otherwise. So, without further ado, here’s my list of the best “Christian” albums of all time (and when I say “all time,” I mean anything after 1990… which is when I started buying albums):

U2, The Joshua Tree (1987): It might seem cheap and superficially obligatory to include this album on a list like this (b/c U2 has never and will never call themselves a “Christian” band), but there’s no denying: this album is the one of the most glisteningly spiritual creations in pop music history.

Sufjan Stevens, Seven Swans (2004): Again, not a traditionally CCM artist, but Sufjan Stevens can’t be left off of this list. I’m convinced that history will look back on Sufjan as a turning point in the musical trajectory of “spiritual” music. Perhaps now Christians who are into good music won’t feel ashamed if they care more about being true and artistic rather than obvious and didactic.

Jars of Clay, Much Afraid (1997): Some might claim that Jars of Clay’s debut album (with that happily earthy feel) is their finest work. However, I’ve always contended that Much Afraid is their masterpiece. Subtle, subdued, and sonically rich (with gorgeously lingering songs like “Frail”), this sophomore album from a seminal CCM band is truly worthy of accolades.

Pedro the Lion, It’s Hard to Find a Friend (1998): When David Bazan (aka Pedro the Lion) emerged from the Seattle indie/emo scene in the late 90s, he was like the Christian version of Kurt Cobain (tortured, passionate, dark) with the mellow style of Eddie Vedder. His first full-length album remains his best, with quietly tragic (and catchy) tunes like “Big Trucks” and “When They Really Get to Know You They Will Run.”

Over the Rhine, Ohio (2003): This could be my favorite album of all time. Certainly it’s the best album ever to come from blatantly Christian artists. The folky double-disc masterpiece from Cincinnati’s best kept secret is nothing short of magnificent, with its backwoods mystery and latter days prophetic gravitas (“Changes Come”). There are about six songs from this album that should be sung in churches every Sunday.

Sixpence None the Richer, Sixpence None the Richer (1998): Though the uber-catchy “Kiss Me” got all the press, the rest of this album is equally marvelous. Leigh Nash—the queen of CCM’s “indie” sound—gave beautiful form to Matt Slocum’s well-crafted classics on this album, which remains a rainyday staple and a major step into mainstream success for CCM.

Caedmon’s Call, Caedmon’s Call (1997): This is an album of the “college folk” movement in the late 90s in which “earthy” bands with world music leanings became “alternatives” for the over-18 set. Caedmon’s Call filled the Christian niche nicely with this album, which—among other things—launched the solo career of Derek Webb, who would later become the Martin Luther of CCM.

Waterdeep, Everyone’s Beautiful (1999): Even more grassroots and folky than their contemporaries Caedmon’s Call, the Kansas City-based Waterdeep became something of a legend among Christian hipsters for a few years in the late 90s/early 00s. Everyone’s Beautiful is their most diverse, satisfying album, though their live shows are still this band’s strongest suit.

DC Talk, Jesus Freak (1995): Though it can’t be denied that this album is a two-year delayed derivative of the grunge craze, it also can’t be denied that Jesus Freak is a super catchy, well-crafted effort from CCM’s favorite boy band. Give the trio credit: they went from rap outfit to rock band in seamless fashion, reinventing the Christian music industry (and giving it license to rock!) along the way.

Switchfoot, New Way to be Human (1999): Though this San Diego surfer band has since fallen victim to “crossover” MTV irrelevance, their older stuff is actually quite good. I especially like this album for its beautiful ballads (“Sooner or Later,” “Let That Be Enough,” and “Only Hope”) which appeared all over teen media (Dawson’s Creek, Party of Five, A Walk to Remember) in the late 90s.

Honorable mention: Burlap to Cashmere, Anybody Out There? (1998), The Innocence Mission, Christ is My Hope (2000), Eisley, Room Noises (2005), Danielson, Ships (2006), Half-handed Cloud, Halos and Lassoes (2006), Rich Mullins, Songs (1996), Vigilantes of Love, Audible Sigh (1999), Damien Jurado, Rehearsals for Departure (1999), Relient K, The Anatomy of Tongue in Cheek (2001), Audio Adrenaline, Bloom (1996).

In Rainbows... And Pots of Gold

Radiohead is so much smarter than the recording industry. Well, pretty much anyone is smarter than the recording industry, but that's beside the point. Radiohead has always been a forward thinking band (OK Computer changed rock music, Kid A further expanded it, etc), but this week they have established themselves as perhaps the most influential band of the 21st century.  

By now, everyone in the world has heard of Radiohead's "pay what you want" stunt. If not, check it out (and participate!) here. It came as a surprise when they announced it via their website two weeks ago, but the sheer novelty and unexpectedness of it has made it all the more of a pop culture frenzy. The experimental move is sheer and utter genius.

Let me count the ways:  

1) Giving the album away via download has no distribution costs. Thus, any goodwill payment (and people have largely been paying SOMETHING, if only a pound or two) is nearly pure profit. No record label to siphon away profits, no physical goods to ship. It's a transaction directly between Radiohead and consumer, and early numbers show it's paying off... big time. Cutting out the middleman is the exchange of the future.  

2) There is one thing (and it's a BIG thing) that you have to do in order to download the album: you have to provide your personal information (name, address, email, phone number, etc). In today's world of target-marketing and audience-as-commodity, this data (which can be sold to advertisers for big bucks) is where the real value is.  

3) Radiohead has realized what the recording industry apparently has not: in a market that is increasingly overcrowded, the problem is not piracy, it’s obscurity. By becoming a “news story,” Radiohead has already won half the battle. As Don Tapscott and Anthony Williams write in their 2006 book, Wikinomics: "In today’s information-soaked environment … content creators need to find ways to permeate people’s consciousness. Giving away content and building loyal relationships are increasingly part of the arsenal creators use in the battle for people’s attention."  

4) Essentially what Radiohead has done here is build up an incredible buzz machine, all because of a three sentence message that showed up on their website a few weeks ago (it wasn't sent out to the world in a massive e-blast... it had to be sought out and spread virally). In the networked world we live in, linkage and bottom-up marketing is the generator of real value. It expands the sphere of an artist, allowing more and more people to be drawn into the Radiohead world--where they will eventually spend some money (either on concerts, an $80 special edition box set, or a physical copy of the CD) and reward the band for instilling a sense of trust.  

5) More than anything, the circumvention of the record companies is a move that establishes a rapport with an increasingly active audience--sick and tired of being attacked, harassed, and generally manipulated by corporations shoving crappy music down their throat. Kids are more savvy and want to be respected as an audience, not just treated as a Pavlovian mass that buys on impulse or command. They WILL get music for free, regardless of if it is legal, and when a band does it willingly (like Radiohead, but also others like Derek Webb), the fans respond positively, and word of mouth takes over.  

It remains to be seen if Radiohead's experiment will pay off in the long run, but I'm going to bet that it will. In a year's time--after all ancillary revenues, tour sales, etc are tallied--I expect that Radiohead will be swimming in money and accolades. And I bet there will be many more artists who follow suit.

The Battle of 9/11

Tomorrow our country will remember the horrific events of September 11, 2001—the date (now six years ago) that altered history and changed our country’s direction in ways we know only too well. There will be memorials, cable specials, wall-to-wall coverage on Fox and CNN, and probably some pretty somber moments.

But isn’t it about time we got over 9/11? So goes the argument of many who are tired of 9/11 being invoked in culture to induce emotional acquiescence to political, hegemonic manipulation. Not that this is what Interscope and Roc-A-Fella records had in mind, but they’ve come up with a surefire way to divert pop-culture’s attention away from lamentation and towards their wallets on 9/11: release the two biggest rap albums of the year!

On 9/11, the third albums of both 50 Cent (aka Curtis Jackson) and Kanye West (aka Kanye West) will be released. The albums are titled Curtis and Graduation, respectively. Much has been made of the rivalry between the two, as they go head to head to prove who is the biggest name in the game (i.e. whose album will sell the most copies in the first week of sales).

The 50/Kanye rivalry goes back at least to 2005, when Kanye uttered his infamous “George Bush hates black people” line during a post-Katrina telethon. 50 soon responded by publicly supporting George W. Bush and his hurricane efforts (even though it isn’t clear whether 50 has or will ever vote in a political election).

Now the rivalry has gone beyond politics, however, with the epic album battle looming. In recent weeks, 50 has even gone so far as to proclaim that if he can’t outsell Kanye, he’ll retire from rap forever, a claim he later retracted (to the sadness of Tipper Gore), but which did the trick it was likely intended for: increasing the hype about the 9/11 showdown. Kanye has since thanked 50 for the absurd publicity, and brushed off any notion that he’s at all worried about competition from 50 Cent.

In fact, Kanye recently told a magazine that his biggest inspiration and rival in the game right now is not 50 Cent, but Justin Timberlake, who he calls “the only other person that gets an across-the-board response and respect” from both white and black radio. In the same interview he compares himself and Timberlake to Michael Jackson and Prince back in the ‘day—versatile competitors who “pushed each other.”

Without having heard either of the two albums yet, it’s hard to tell which one will be better (though it’s a safe bet, if past is any measure, that Kanye will win over the critics even as 50 wins over the charts). Both albums feature amazing guest stars. Kanye collabs with Mos Def, Chris Martin, and Young Jeezy (as well as uber-hipster producer Jon Brion), while Fitty invokes the talents of a bunch of white dudes (Robin Thicke, Eminem, and Justin Timberlake).

It would seem that Kanye and 50 have different fanbases, so I’m not sure why their head-to-head rivalry is so ballyhooed. 50 is really popular among the TRL crowd, and people who appreciate the fact that he’s riddled with bullet holes and actually did deal crack as a 12 year old. Kanye, on the other hand, appeals to yuppie Obama fans and middle class hipster kids, mainly because he raps as if he actually did graduate 12th grade English, and because he samples people like Steely Dan, Daft Punk, and Michael Jackson (on Graduation).

Whoever wins the 9/11 prize, it will likely make little difference. Both of these albums will be huge sellers, probably in the top five of the year. And it should be clear what all of the supposed rivalry controversy is really about: creating buzz and anticipation so as to sell more copies. That’s what every rivalry is about in Hollywood: making more money. Some wise entertainment guru discovered long ago that audiences love conflict, drama, and competition. It’s our culture’s biggest source of entertainment (i.e. sports). Thus, why not create competition and rivalry where there is none? Everything sells better as a fight. This month it's Kanye v. 50, next September it's Clinton v. Romney. It'll be a knock-down, drag-out ratings bonanza.

The Tragedy of (Most) Modern Worship Music

I’ve been thinking a lot about "worship music" these days. I’m very suspicious of the term. I’ve been suspicious of it for a long time, so much so that at a point during my time at Wheaton College, whenever I’d get a “worship” CD in the mail (I was A&E editor of the newspaper; I got lots of free CDs), I’d rarely even open it. Here are just some of the reasons why I’ve become so jaded with what modern evangelicals have come to call worship music:

• It’s 90% crappy, knock-off Keane or secondhand U2 (i.e. it is usually very predictable and unoriginal)
• It’s an industry. How bizarre and kind of disgusting that branding your music as “worship” and selling it as an “experience” earns the most money in CCM.
• It’s a very fickle, trendy industry. Every month there’s a new “it” song that eventually filters down to every evangelical church across the world… only to be replaced by a new “it” song a month later. No more standards, no more canons.
• It turns its nose up at good writing. Most worship music wallows in bad water imagery, fire metaphor, or pseudo-sexual verbiage (“Jesus your love is ravishing, intoxicating, orgasmic, etc).
• It’s more about creating an emotional response than eliciting a profound spiritual reflection. The measure of a good worship leader is often how many in the audience stand up or raise their hands out of their own volition.
• It’s much too happy and self-satisfied. “Make a joyful noise” does not mean “don’t worry, be happy.” Some of the most beautiful (and yes, joyful) hymns have come from places of sorrow and brokenness (e.g. “It is Well With My Soul”)
• It’s much too focused on the words. Can’t the music be worshipful on its own? Could not an all-instrumental song be just as worshipful as one with lyrics?

So, as you can see, I have issues with modern worship music. It really pains me, because I want to like it; I want to think that God is pleased by it. But I can’t get over the fact that it is mostly just mediocre, conservative, and stuck in a box. Worship is so much broader than just a “genre” of music that can be “entered in to” as a corporate, religious activity. Worship is much bigger than that.

Worship music should be first and foremost honest music, and excellent music (artistically). It should come from the same place any musician goes to when writing a song. If that place is dark and has only a glimmer of hope, then that is your worship, and God rejoices in it (see Pedro the Lion sing “Be Thou My Vision”). If that place is effervescent and giddy about life, and that is honestly where you’re at, sing about it. Don’t force your music into formulas. Let it come out organically, creatively. There is nothing more worshipful than using our creative minds and talents to create the best and most creative thing we possibly can. Not the most commercial—not what is easy listening or reductive. No, our worship music should not be made for the masses.

Even as I’ve been ranting and raving about worship music and how bad it is, there are signs that it is beginning to get better. Thankfully there are Christian musicians out there beginning to realize that God is also honored by music that doesn’t have His name in it! Music can be about so much and still, in the end, be about God.

Here is a sampling of artists who I think make artful, forward-thinking music that is also rather worshipful. Some are more obviously “worship” artists, while others are just Christians making beautiful music. But most importantly, all are good.

• The Brilliance
• Future of Forestry
• Sandra McCracken
• The Welcome Wagon
• Half-handed Cloud
• Aaron Strumpel
• Young Oceans
• Audrey Assad
• John Mark McMillan
• Josh Garrels
• King's Kaleidoscope
• Sara Groves
• Andrew Peterson
• All Sons and Daughters
• Bifrost Arts
• Stuart Townend
• Revolutionary Army of the Infant Jesus

(This post has been updated since its original posting in 2007)

Over the Rhine Releases The Trumpet Child

Today is a rare day. It is an album release day from Over the Rhine, the world’s best band you’ve never heard of. I know that’s clichéd, but it’s really true. You must give Over the Rhine a listen… they’ve been at it for fifteen+ years, and have created some of the best American music of the last decade (seriously).

Anyway, you can read my review of their new album, The Trumpet Child, here.

Listening to a new album from Over the Rhine is like coming home after a long vacation—or remembering some old, long-forgotten joy. Perhaps it’s because I have so many memories associated with the band and their music, among them:

• Being introduced to their music in college by my friend and roommate Ryan Hamm (whose incessant play of Good Dog Bad Dog won me over).
• Declaring March '03 “Over the Rhine month” in the Wheaton College school newspaper, The Record (I was entertainment editor at the time, and evidently had license to declare random “months” such as this), and letting Ryan review the major albums of OTR’s oeuvre for four weeks straight.
• Having dinner with Linford before an Over the Rhine concert at Wheaton. He spoke with such poetry.
• Seeing OTR perform the perfect concert at Schubas (an intimate tavern-like venue in Chicago) in October of 2003. To this day, it is not only the best concert I’ve seen them play (and I’ve seen them live six times), but also the best concert I’ve ever seen anybody play (and I had just seen Simon and Garfunkel and Radiohead the month before).
• Walking out from a January OTR concert at Chicago’s Old Town School of Folk Music, into a fluffy white snowstorm, the lyrics of Snow Angel still lingering in the air.

For me, Over the Rhine represents a specific time in my life, and I suppose all good music does this to us—it brings to mind a memory, a song or a sound that is forever replayable in our mind. Perhaps Linford says it best in the liner notes of Trumpet:

And me, my first memory, the sound of a trumpet at a tent meeting revival, I was sitting on my mother’s lap, I remember that bright brass bell, that eggtooth blast waking me up, snapping the world into focus, piercing the womb of distant muffled things, stirring my conscious mind, the sound of a trumpet! And I remember the small wooden stage at the front of the tent, strings of bare lightbulbs, my sister Grace’s braids, and me forming my first real thought: I need to be where the sound is coming from.

For me, Over the Rhine’s music does just this: it snaps the world into focus. I need to be where the sound is coming from, and so do you.

The Search Circa 1992

I just finished Jon Krakauer’s fantastic book Into the Wild, which I wanted to read before the film version (directed by Sean Penn) comes out this September. The book tells the story of Chris McCandless, who graduated college in 1990 and went on a two year trek across North America in search of raw, transcendent experience. Tired of a predictable, bourgeois existence in suburban D.C., McCandless decided to “escape” from the real world that frustrated him. He drove his car out into the Mojave desert, abandoned it, burned all his money, and proceeded to live as a wayfaring tramp and hobo for the next two years.

Into the Wild is a fascinating account of McCandless’ adventures as he travels throughout the American West—from South Dakota to the Salton Sea, Las Vegas to Astoria, Oregon, and finally to the Alaskan wilderness, where his Jack London-inspired quest came to a tragic end.

McCandless wrote in letters of his desire to break from “a life of security, conformity, and conservatism” in favor of “unconventional living.” As he writes:

“Nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future… The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.”

McCandless longed for a richer, more natural and grounded existence than what his middle-class lot had outlined for him. I can’t help but compare him to another tragic, alienated soul of his generation—Kurt Cobain—who famously rebelled against the comfortable establishment he was born into.

Whereas Cobain vented his frustrations through drugs and music, and McCandless through communion with nature, both men epitomized the “grunge” rebellion and disillusionment of Generation X in the early 1990s. Call them slackers, or neo-hippies, or whatever—but they made explicit the “search” that haunts all generations.

Writer Douglas Coupland, who has come to be the literary voice of Generation X, described in 1995 the mindset of “X-ers” as being the desire “to hop off the merry-go-round of status, money, and social climbing that so often frames modern existence."

I think we all can relate to this desire at some points in our lives—when the weight of success and the expectations of family, society, and self become too heavy a burden. Whether McCandless and Cobain are to be respected or pitied (for their searches both ended in solitary deaths, in 1992 and 1994, respectively), I’ll leave to you to decide.

But regardless of their failures and ultimately tragic ends, McCandless and Cobain were earnest in their longings—and through culture (music, movies, books, etc) their rupturing of the status quo lives on for future wanderers to ponder.