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It’s been about a week since R.E.M. announced that they are disbanding.  After three decades, Michael Stipe, Mike Mills, Peter Buck, and longtime manager Bertis Downs decided that it would be best to hang it up.  To most, this is inconsequential.  I saw people on Twitter saying stuff like “I didn’t even know R.E.M. were still together.”  Let’s face it, it’s been well over a decade since they made a record that really got people’s attention (arguably, Monster was the last album that did so, and that came out SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO).  But to fans like myself, and believe me, there’s lots of us, this is something we’d have to realize was coming sooner rather than later, and is most certainly nothing to be upset about.

R.E.M. have always done things their way.  Their initial contract with IRS Records, the way they recorded their music, the relentless touring, the refusal to do what was expected of them in the age of early MTV… they didn’t know it, but the band was establishing what the independent and alternative scenes of the 80’s and 90’s would look like, both musically, and as a business model.  Even after signing with Warner Brothers in the late 80’s, they tried to retain that independent spirit while having the advantage of guaranteed money.  Instead of spending it on cars, drugs, etc, they invested it in their music.  They took the early 90’s by storm with music that reached across radio formats but remained something all their own.  And just when the melodic and painstakingly arranged albums like Out of Time and Automatic for the People were looking like their hallmark, they turned around and put out two of the best hard rock albums of the decade in Monster and New Adventures In Hi Fi.

Part lies, part heart, part truth, part garbage.

When drummer Bill Berry retired in the late 90’s, it seemed like the end for the band.  Instead, the remaining three members quietly picked up the pieces and went in new directions.  They produced some of their best music to date over the next few years before beginning to burn out with Around the Sun.  This would only result in another return to form with two more triumphant albums.  R.E.M. always refused to stay down.  There was always a reason to get back up.  Now, months after the release of Collapse Into Now (which I’ll finally review soon) and the arrangement of a full retrospective album to be released in November, R.E.M. have decided that it’s time.

The decision is, once again, R.E.M. doing things their way.  Their latest contract with Warner Brothers (which, when signed, was the most lucrative record deal in history) has been fulfilled, they’re putting together a “definitive” hits collection of their own making, and they’re in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  What better time, then, to call it a day?

We’ll always have the music, the videos, and the memories.  Plenty of other great groups have had to quit under worse circumstances… much worse than any R.E.M. might have had to deal with.  That’s why I’m not upset.  I’m glad.  I’m glad that these guys, whose has been a huge part of my life, and influenced so much of what I like about music, will get to go out on their own terms.  We’re sure to see them here and there… Michael might lend his voice to someone here or there, Mike might do some of the same, and lord knows Peter likes to stay busy.

"This is my time and I am thrilled to be alive."

All good things must come to an end.  And I feel fine.

Back a couple of months ago, I posted rather cryptically about looking for Inspirado and talking about a one-hit wonder.  Now, you know why.

If you click on the face of the gone-but-not-forgotten Pauly Fuemana, you’ll be reading my debut column for The Pulse, a great lifestyle and entertainment magazine based in beautiful Worcester.  You can also pick up a hard copy for free anywhere in the Worcester area.  Hopefully, I’ll continue to contribute and maybe even get noticed.

Thanks to Lara for giving me a shot.  Does this mean I’m a writer now?

Last week, I came up with an idea for a weekly article here at NP1:  write a short blurb about each of the first ten songs that play on my iPod in ‘Shuffle’ mode.  I’ve done this sort of thing a couple of times in the ‘Notes’ section on Facebook, and it seems to me like a good way to get content up here.  Here’s hoping I can keep up with it, and here comes the maiden voyage of the Weekly Shuffle.

Steely Dan – “Hey Nineteen”
This song is pure supermarket music at first glance.  You know what I’m talking about… the same smooth songs from the late Seventies and early Eighties that play at your local supermarket during the middle of the day.  Give it a little listen, though, and you’ll hear Donald Fagen bemoaning having nothing to talk about with some young girl he’s chatting up at a bar or a club, so he just skips to the tequila and cocaine.  And roller skating, I think.

Beck – “Girl”
Beck started repeating himself when he put out Guero, and that’s when he stopped being interesting.  I know that sounds harsh, but the dude could have released CDs in the past two or three years and I wouldn’t know.   But really, although everyone was excited to see him get back together with the Dust Brothers, we got exactly what we were hoping for –  a retread of Odelay without that certain air of the bizarre.  The songs are still fun, and this one is no exception… it just felt like we’d been down this road already.  By the time The Information hit the streets, it was more of the same.  ”Girl” is most memorable for its Atari-inspired intro and adherence to Beck’s formula.  Not bad by any stretch, but it was already getting tired.

Editors – “Open Your Arms”
I’ve got plenty to say about Editors, and I’ve been writing something in my head for a while now, trying to say that these guys are what Joy Division would have been if Ian Curtis didn’t commit suicide.  This track was one of the keys to their debut, a dark, moody, and decidedly Mancunian album that used this as a bright light near the end of the tunnel.  Great echoing guitars and the blandly-named Tom Smith’s voice is more Curtisesque than even Ian Curtis.  Huge in Britain, unknown in the States.  Too bad.

The Smiths – “The Hand that Rocks the Cradle”
I’ve been fascinated by the Smiths for a long time but only started listening over the last couple of months.  People always ask me, “Hey, you like R.E.M. so much, don’t you like the Smiths, too?”  I always had to admit that I wasn’t familiar, but now the pleasant guitar stylings of Johnny Marr and Morrissey’s melancholy warble are becoming staples.  Indeed, quite reminiscent of R.E.M.’s early work and highly enjoyable, no matter how sad.

Don't be sad, Moz... unless that's cool with you.

The Presidents of the United States of America – “Stranger”
The Presidents were a breath of fresh air during the grunge era.  This song always makes me laugh, in which Chris Ballew describes a bizarre encounter at a strip club.  The line “You seem cool for a naked chick in a booth, let’s be pals someday” is one of the greatest lyrics in their (albiet small) catalog.

Joy Division – “Incubation”
In instrumental that didn’t end up on one of Joy Division’s two albums proper.  Stephen Morris is a killer drummer and Bernard Sumner is a good rock guitarist.  I love his riffs.  I have seriously thought about starting an excercise regimine in which I simply dance to their music like I imagine Curtis did to this song.

U2 – “Discotheque”
Don’t remember this song?  Didn’t think so.  I love this one.  I love this whole stupid, self-absorbed album.  U2 put out Pop in 1997 and made no effort to hide the fact that the entire thing was a glamor project.  The music, the tour, everything.   It all essentially said “We’re the biggest band in the world, and there is nothing that anyone can do about it.”  If you though the Zoo TV era was crazy, this made it look like that was all just a tour of local pubs.  ”Discotheque” was the embodiment of the whole thing in one song, with a dance beat, an irresistible hook, and a garish video.  I actually hated this album when it came out, but I actually think that I prefer them being outwardly self-satisfied than hiding it like they do today.  I highly recommend you revisit Pop and enjoy.

Joy Division – “Glass”
Wow, we seem to have a recurring theme tonight.  Another one that didn’t make it onto an actual album.   Peter Hook gets all fuzzy on the bass in this one.  Everything seems to be disjointed here, the guitar, the sporadic bass-line, and Curtis’s voice nearly goes off the chart once or twice.  Morris is the only one who seems to know what he’s doing the whole time.

Bob Dylan – “Subterranean Homesick Blues”
What’s there to say about this song that nobody’s already said?  Well, for one, Weird Al paid tribute with his own song called “Bob,” in which he sings a whole bunch of palendromes in Dylan’s voice.  Also, “The pump don’t work ’cause the vandals took the handle” is my personal favorite Bob Dylan line.

Jimi Hendrix – “Stone Free”
At the heart of rock and roll is the Blues.  Jimi embodied rock and roll, that’s for sure, but he had the Blues in his heart.  This song is like a crossroad in those two styles, where the Blues meets Jimi’s rock and roll world view.  Far out, man.

That’s it for this week.  Stay tuned for more.

At first, I thought it was really happening.  I thought that I was finally going to have to admit that I was going to be legitimately disappointed.  But like the rest of their catalog, Radiohead’s latest release is not what it seems at first glance.  Or the second.  Or maybe even the third… but once you’re finally ready to sit down and give The King of Limbs the attention it deserves, you’ll agree that it’s complex and intriguing in ways that are both new and familiar.

THIS ISN'T CREEPY AT ALL!

So much about the album seems underwhelming.  It only features eight tracks and clocks in at a scant 37 minutes.  There isn’t much in the way of melody to be found here, and much of the time it seems that this is another Thom Yorke solo-effort, featuring multi-instrumentalist Johnny Greenwood and drummer Phil Selway.  Tracks like “Feral” seem like forgettable drum loops with spooky vocal tricks here and there.  And then, after multiple listens, the groundwork fades away and details begin to emerge.  Guitars, keyboards, and God knows what else are lurking just beneath the surface, like a dream trying to break through as soon as you finally drift to sleep.

None of this should be a surprise if you’ve been a fan of the band as long as I’ve been.  And the concept of Radiohead producing new material that could be classified as “predictable” is silly.  Even though this album’s sound might seem minimalist at first, there’s plenty to be heard here, as always.

One of my favorite elements of the Radiohead sound is missing this time around, being the guitar.  The interplay of Yorke/Greenwood/O’Brien isn’t there.  Unlike the previous two albums, which were developed thanks to trying out new material at live performances, The King of Limbs is very much a studio album that seemed to be bred out of composition and recording rather than jam sessions.  I do find the final track, “Separator,” to be a sign of good things to come, as an undoubtedly Greenwood-penned guitar lick is played and layered over and over, breathing new life into the song and casting a ray of sunshine over what is certainly a “winter” album.

And so it seems that by taking the “less is more” approach, Radiohead have emerged victorious once again.  They might disappoint next time… but I highly doubt it.

For self-amusement purposes, I’d like to add the official video for “Lotus Flower,” in which I continue to wonder if Thom Yorke has Tourette’s or Asperger’s.

(Keep an eye out for a return of the NP1 Guitar Gods series, where I’ll be profiling Thom Yorke and Johnny Greenwood together.)

Today’s a sad day, but I knew it would come eventually.

Jack and Meg White have announced through Third Man Records that the White Stripes have officially called it quits.  I’m sad because that means that this is the end of a little musical era, but I’m happy because it also means that it’s the start of the legend.  And not the “Did you know they’re divorced, not brother and sister?” legend.  Their legacy might be the better way to put it.  Their body of work is, as it stands, the best of any of the “garage revival” bands of the turn of the century.  In time, I think it will only seem to get better, mostly because their brand of guitar/drum blues rock is timeless.  Hey, if I wanted to, I could start writing a book about them now.

One more cup of coffee before you go?

I always knew that Jack was headed in a Claptonesque direction with his career.  The White Stripes was like his days with Cream.  Now he’s got his work between The Raconteurs and The Dead Weather, all while running Third Man, like Blind Faith and Derek and the Dominoes were for Eric.  Have I written about this before?  I’ve been thinking it for years, if I haven’t by now, I’d be surprised.  As for Meg, who knows what she’ll be up to.  She’ll probably still be adorable.

I can remember first buying White Blood Cells and being knocked right out by it.  I also remembered watching Citizen Kane in film class and realizing that all of the lyrics to “The Union Forever” were lines in that movie.

I’m also sad that I’ll never get to see this happen in person:

So there you go.  Thanks to Jack and Meg for making such great music together.

Back in the spring, my expectations were officially set to “high” when Interpol announced that their self-titled fourth album was on the way.  After posting the lead single for free, I was excitedly trying to figure out what direction the new album would go in.  Only a month later, it was announced that bassist Carlos Dengler had quit the band.  Although having been a dedicated member of the group during the album’s recording, Carlos decided to walk away and pursue his own interests.  Being the classy guys they are, the split was amicable and Interpol proceeded to tour as a trio.  But you already know all this, and that’s because I’ve told you.  After a month and a half or so, partly thanks to the downtime, I’m ready to finally unleash my review.

Gentlemen.

Interpol IV, as I like to call it, is in some ways the best album the group has put together.  Although I still feel that Turn on the Bright Lights is the band’s hallmark, the new album is also good enough to rank as their best.  Of course, this is coming from someone who is a dedicated fan.  I haven’t read any reviews, but I get the impression that it’s not getting overwhelming acclaim right now.  As for me, I knew that this album would mean something more to me than your causal fan simply because of my love of their work.  Little did I know just how much I’d get out of it.

One reason why I feel this album is so damn good is because the band’s sound, although still rooted in their classic “guitar/guitar/bass/drums” format, the additional elements they’ve been working into their sound are finally becoming more prominent.  Keys and synths are more plentiful this time around thanks to Dengler’s studio work.  Another thing that I’ve been listening to over and over is Paul Banks’ vocals.  The first couple of listens will probably make you wish that he’d dial it down.  The best example is the strains he goes through on “Memory Serves.”  I remember actually grimacing at first, and on the next few listens.  However, upon further review on a great pair of headphones, there’s some great layering of background vocals that give it a new dimension.  I didn’t think I’d be writing it now, but I think his voice has gotten better with each album.  His guitar also meshes well with Dan Kessler’s, as usual.  Nothing new here, except some clever licks here and there on Dan’s part, but those simple lines that make up Interpol’s core sound are in tact throughout.  Sam Fogarino’s drums are better than ever, pounding in a more confident manner than ever before.  Chalk it up to having truly enjoyed watching him play this summer, but his beats actually give some of the darker tracks on this album a Nine Inch Nails flavor.  Trent Reznor might want to take note.

The other reason for my enthusiasm is the fact that the band seemed to conciously try to make Interpol IV into their most singular work.  Now, maybe it’s just the fact that I’ve been looking for common threads in things lately (see my review of Arcade Fire’s latest effort), but it seems that the album is both thematically and musically whole.  An officially released email just before the album came out said, “We’ve enjoyed giving you bits and pieces, but we can’t wait until you get to hear it as intended.”  After hearing all ten tracks in order, musical phrases make appearances in separate tracks.  The first you’ll probably pick up on is the piano intro to “Try It On” coming through again on the next track.  In fact, the final three tracks all run together as if movements to a bigger song.  If you’re clever, you’ll pick up on the chorus to the finale using the dischordant guitar line from the end of “Always Malaise.”  I’m most proud of discovering the fact that the piano notes that open “Summer Well” are repeated at the beginning of “Barricade” on Dan’s guitar.

Detractors might simply say that the band is lazy or ran out of ideas.  I think that would be an insult to their work.

The overall theme of heartache is the other reason I think that this album really needs to be heard from beginning to end.  Interpol write a lot of their lyrics by committee, although Paul is essentially the head writer.  It would seem to me that he’s gone through some tough times with the ladies lately… so many of the songs are about losing someone and trying to win them back, or simply missing them and regretting going separate ways.  Even moreso, there’s a bit of self-loathing thrown in for good measure, such as “Always Malaise.”  That would mean that this isn’t your older brother’s Interpol album, as most of their previous work has been kind of hard to interpret.  This batch of songs is much more straightforward.  In fact, the hardest part of the album to understand is simply the part that’s not in English.  Paul finally unleashes a little Spanish on us (having lived in Spain as a boy) and saves it for the end on “The Undoing.”

I remember reading a quote from Dengler after Our Love to Admire was released, saying that the fourth album would be the band’s chance to make their own Kid A.  In a way, I think that’s quite accurate.  The most bizarre of Radiohead’s work was devised to divide: the mass audience they’d taken on with OK Computer was shaken off with the next album, and they’ve gone their own way ever since.  I think that Interpol IV will have the same effect, even though I believe that it’s going to be the kind of album that grows on you.  Even though I fell in love on the first listen, I have continued to get more and more out of it every single time I hear it.  Well done, gentlemen.  Where do we go next?

Just for fun, check out the video to “Barricade,” which is not only a better song than I initially thought it was, but is arguably the epitome of Interpol’s sound and song structure.  Unfortunately, this particular mix is a little shorter than the album version, and the absolutely kickin’ bassline is toned down.  That’s too bad, because it’s the most ass that Carlos ever kicked.  Funny, as his apparent boredom with playing the instrument was one of the reasons he quit the band.  Best of luck to you, Carlos.

If you did a survey of completely random people, and asked them who their favorite rock bands of all time are, you’d most likely get a lot of picks for The Doors.  It’s unlikely that anybody’s going to name them right off the bat, but they’re there.  A band that has somehow woven themselves into the fabric of American rock, although only being truly active for eight years.  Still, they get played on the radio every day across the nation, rebellious kids  still write THE DOORS in their notebook margins, t-shirts get sold, et cetera.  And I don’t understand why.

I have struggled to understand for most of my life what it is that people love so much about The Doors.  I don’t have anything against them myself, I’m just sort of perplexed.  Their music doesn’t grab me.  It just doesn’t click with me the way that say, the Stones or Steely Dan’s music does.  Yet, like approximately 97% of Americans, The Best of The Doors is on my iPod, and I skip almost every track that pops up on Shuffle.

So why do so many people like them?  I think the most obvious choice is Jim Morrison.  The guy’s dead.  There’s  a certain phenomena when a musician dies before his or her time.  When this happens, it validates their body of work, no matter how good or bad.  Chuck Klosterman did a much better job of talking about it in Killing Yourself to Live, in which he went around the country visiting important spots in the history of Rock Death.

From my own experience, I can relate to the Doors fan of my generation through my love of Joy Division.  Ian Curtis committed suicide at the tender age of twenty-three, and left behind a legacy of somewhat catchy post-punk from the late ’70s.  Now that his influence has generated a whole slew of popular bands today (Interpol, Editors, the Xx, and others), Joy Division is popular again.  If Curtis had gotten the right help and medication for his afflictions, he’d probably still be alive and New Order never would have had to exist. But therein lies the paradox: if you’d played Unknown Pleasures for me and didn’t tell me anything about the band, I’d probably tell you that I thought it was boring and only had about three or four songs that were worth listening to.  Knowing the story, though, changes things.  There’s a whole legend to Curtis’s suicide and the aftermath.  It gives the music what would seem to be a deeper meaning about death and whatnot.  Some street cred, if you will.  It’s the same thing with Jim Morrison, I’d assume.  I just never really bothered to care.

Send in a Jim Morrison quote that makes me laugh and you can win a prize. (Prizes not yet determined. No purchase necessary.)

Where was I ?

Oh yeah.  When it all comes down to it, I really only like six songs by The Doors, and I don’t even like them that much.

“Break on Through”

The first thing I like about this song is that it’s short.  It’s only two and a half minutes, and it has a great guitar riff by Robbie Krieger.  It’s also the kind of song you can sing drunk or use in a movie trailer.  I assume this movie will star Johnny Depp, directed by Terry Gilliam or maybe David Fincher.

“Light My Fire”

This song is the opposite in length (seven minutes, for the album version).  This is the song that reminds you that The Doors could be a really good band when they wanted to be, thanks mostly to Ray Manzarek’s totally far-out organ and Krieger’s super-mellow but still bitchin’ guitar solo.  I really don’t think I should have even bothered to put this song on the list because everybody knows and likes it, but you know a good song when you hear it.

“Alabama Song”

My love of this song is anecdotal.  Last summer I drove to Yankee Stadium with my brother.  Morrison came on the radio, and George says, “I think my favorite Doors song is that one that goes ‘SHOW ME THE WAY TO THE NEXT WHISKEY BAR’” in a very good impression.  We proceeded to laugh about it for a little while.  I’m listening to it right now, though, and it’s actually a pretty creepy song.  The next verse goes “Show me the way to the next little girl.”  Hey Jim, why don’t you have a seat over there.

“Riders on the Storm”

This song is cool because it plays a thunderstorm in the background, and it sounds like one of those Sharper Image sleep machines, or RainyMood.com.  Incidentally, I cannot sleep without these devices.  Manzarek’s keyboard sounds really neat playing over it, kind of like little raindrops playing in your mind.  This is a legitimately cool tune.

“Roadhouse Blues”

This is a kick-ass blues song that my pals in Crush like to play every show, and do about as good a job of it.

“LA Woman”

My favorite.  Good enough to be four or five songs, Jim goes full-force on this eight-minute opus before going on about Mr. Mojo Risin’ for a while.  Probably the best example of the band’s musicianship as they change styles and tempos a couple of times.  I think I love this song because it’s like The Doors doing an impression of themselves, the same way I love “Burning Love” by Elvis Presley.

So there’s that.  While a lot of people, some of them friends of mine, are huge fans and know every word of every song, The Doors just don’t really work for me.  If they work for you, then by all means, enjoy.

With apologies to Barenaked Ladies, Rush, and yes, Sarah McLachlan, my favorite Canadian rock band is back.  I’m talking about Arcade Fire, those wise-beyond-their-years kids who have garnered incredibly good reviews over their brief existence.  After an EP and two magnificent albums, the ensemble of multi-instrumentalists have returned with The Suburbs, a pseudo-concept album in the spirit of their debut.

Did they recast Heroes?

Although highly anticipated, it seems as if The Suburbs was released to little fanfare.  This may be due in part to the current state of popular music, and/or because of the music industry in general.  It’s too bad, because this is arguably the band’s best album.  Much like their universally lauded debut, Funeral, the songs all follow some central themes.  Whereas Funeral was about growing up, falling in love, and carrying on for your family, the new album is about suburban life, suburban kids, and suburban ennui.  Win and Will Butler have stated that the album is not “a love letter to, nor an indictment of, the suburbs – it’s a letter from the suburbs.”  Giving the album a couple of listens will help that idea become clear, but you still can’t help but think that their overall impression of that kind of life is less than stellar.

Now, Neon Bible, as good as it was, was cursed by Sophomore Album Syndrome.  After Funeral, nothing was going to be good enough for the second album.  I can remember being very impressed with it, but after a while, I just got to thinking to myself, “Hey, guys, why so serious?”  Couple that with its expanded sound, and Arcade Fire looked like they were guilty of Trying Too Hard.  I think this was the general consensus among critics and even some fans, and the band seemed to know it.  So with the third album, we get songs that are more effortless in their execution, both lyrically and musically.  Win doesn’t seem to be as urgent as he did three years ago.  Maybe it’s because he’s not being reactionary; maybe it’s his use of a central theme that has got him directed again.  The lyrics are worth examining, but they seem effortless again.  I can remember reading the liners to Funeral and being moved because the words were simple, but still poetic.  As for the music, the band is still quite good at launching into big numbers, but they do so with a little restraint… just big enough to say what they want to and not seem obnoxious about it.  The overall sound is lovely, too, as the whole album was pressed to acetate before being mastered, giving it the same sound as vinyl.  What really gets me, though, is how the two elements come together to give the sense that the whole album is like a dream.  The ‘narrative’ jumps from place to place and idea to idea, and the music fits to it.  It’s not quite real, it seems.  Maybe that’s due in part to the blend of traditional rock with a little electronic influence here and there.

Music is, of course, a very personal thing.  Arcade Fire did things on Funeral that no other band had ever done in my eyes.  Essentially, they came along with several songs that said things that I didn’t even know I wanted to say.  With The Suburbs, they do it again, like on “Ready to Start,” “Modern Man,” and “We Used to Wait.”  Songs about being in a funk and trying to pull yourself out.  Songs about being complacent but unhappy.  Songs about simpler times when you’d actually write a letter to someone and wait a while to hear back.  Things I’ve been pondering for a while.  This is why Arcade Fire are very special to me.  I’m glad they’re back, and I’m glad this album is so damn good.  I hope that when they come back stateside, they take a trip through my area.

It also doesn’t hurt that Sarah Neufeld is still with the band and is quite adorable.

Back a little while ago when I started talking about my favorite guitarists, I picked Jamie Hince of the Kills.  Truth be told, I wouldn’t have known who he was if it wasn’t for the fact that his bandmate, Alison Mosshart, had started a new ‘supergroup’ with Jack White.  And if Jack White is up to something, I want to know about it.  Since he broke through with The White Stripes, I’ve been a devotee.  Let’s discuss why.

Quite possibly your third man.

For one, Jack is a new kind of blues guitarist.  I love the blues, and everybody knows that’s the key to great rock and roll.  He has been referred to as the best of his generation [Citation needed] and I don’t really feel like arguing that point.  He takes the basics and runs them through dirty garage rock, creating his own signature style in the same way an Eric Clapton or a B.B. King is instantly recognizable.  I recently watched the documentary It Might Get Loud, in which Jack shares his love of old-timey blues and roots music, and he explains how it makes its way into his sound.  “I want it to be a struggle,” he says.  “You have to pick a fight with the guitar” and win that fight.  For a guy like me, who’s been trying to wrap his head around the instrument on and off for years, this is a refreshing philosophy.  Show that sucker who’s boss.

From that comes his desire to only use old-school equipment and technology.  The liner notes to The White Stripes’ masterpiece, Elephant included his own essay on how he feels modern recording equipment robs the music of its soul.  It certainly is true of his own music… if you were to record a White Stripes album in a pristine, Apple-computer driven studio, it just wouldn’t feel right.  It needs that warm sound and crunch you can only get from analog tubes and whiskey.  Speaking of equipment, his “Triple Jet” custom guitar is an absolute marvel.

Jack’s work ethic is also inspiring.  He is currently involved in three bands (Claptonesque already at a young age), and they’re all covered in his musical fingerprints, despite playing drums in one of the bands.  He also started his own record label and recording studio after producing an album for Loretta Lynn.  He’s 35 and he’s not done yet.  Makes me think I’ve got some catching up to do.

I’ll leave you with this.  I think it just about sums things up.

Hell yes.

Over the last couple of weeks, I was very lucky to get to see three of my favorite bands as they made their way through western Massachusetts.  Of these three, I’d already seen two play in the past, but they’re shows worth seeing.

Let’s start at the Green River Festival in Greenfield, where Cake headlined a weekend of varied musical acts.  You might (might) remember when I saw them play four years ago in Worcester, and I can remember leaving the Palladium that evening vowing to see them again.

It's the Gui-tar Man!

As always, the Sacramento-based quintet delivered a great set.  Many of the old favorites were played, including “Ruby Sees All,” “Comanche,” “Wheels,” “Frank Sinatra,” “Short Skirt/Long Jacket,” and of course, “The Distance.”  They also played a couple of new tracks, which sounded like they follow the great Cake tradition.  John MaCrea was a bit more perturbed than usual, which can’t hurt the proceedings.  He’s happy that the band have their own label now, as he says, “The music industry… it’s all corrupt, all of it.”  He’s excited to release the new, 100% solar powered album, although he’s still unsure as to when it’s due out.  No matter, I’m on the email list.  As before, I have to recommend seeing these guys live if you ever get the chance.

... spare me the suspense.

On Friday, I high-tailed it to Northampton in an effort to see Interpol for the second time.  The first time around was a couple of years ago at the Aggnis Arena at Boston University.  This time, it was the Pearl St. Nightclub.  These guys are fully capable of carrying an arena, but a small room such as Pearl St. is truly the place to see them.

After the opening act from Twin Tigers (which featured a lead singer who looked like a young Rich Hall and a cute girl with goofy glasses on bass), Paul Banks took to the microphone and gave us a cordial “Good evening.”  From there they made the gutsy move of opening with the as-of-yet-unheard “Success,” following the band policy of using the first track from the current album to open the show.  We were all impressed, and enjoyed a killer set that would also include “Summer Well” and “Lights,” which will be on the new album, as well. Turn on the Bright Lights and Antics would get plenty of attention, but strangely enough, only “Mammoth” represented Our Love to Admire.  I had wondered how the band would perform without original bassist Carlos D, and the answer was “Quite well.”  Journeyman Dave Pajo took over for Carlos at those duties, and fit right into the puzzle.  Also, Secret Machines’ Brandon Curtis was on keyboards.  Curtis is a great fit for the band and I hope that they continue to work with him.

My favorite moments of the evening include Dan Kessler standing four feet from me on the edge of the stage, Paul looking right at me during the chorus of “PDA” (I swear to God, he did), the smile on his face at the audience’s ferocious approval, and Sam Fogarino, liter of vodka in hand, thanking us at the end of the night.  Classy gents; Interpol forever.

The test begins... NOW

The next night, it was off to Holyoke for my long-awaited meeting with the Flaming Lips.  I’d been looking forward to seeing the Lips play in concert for YEARS.  Finally, it was time to see Oklahoma City’s favorite sons.

Now, I’m going to have to level with you… this show was spectacular.  Everything people say about Lips shows is true.  It’s over the top.  It’s a ton of fun.  There’s all sorts of freaks there, and it’s a big ol’ party.  But something tells me that I might have enjoyed this show more a few years ago.  Why?  To be completely honest, it’s because Embryonic hadn’t been recorded yet.  Now, don’t get me wrong: last year’s double album was an incredible effort that pushed the Lips in new directions of experimentation… and that’s saying something.  But the difference between Embryonic and the previous decade’s work is the fact that the newest offering is, for the most part, a downer.  What made albums like The Soft Bulletin and Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots appealing was the fact that they were fun and optimistic.  Embryonic is a great album, sure, but only a scarce few of the songs aren’t spooky or depressing.  I mean, no “Race for the Prize?”

This does not hurt the fact that the band absolutely ROCK live.  You could remove all of the massive balloons, video screens, confetti cannons, giant laser-hands, and Wayne Coyne’s space bubble and still have a great time because these guys play loud and heavy all the time. No one is safe when Michael Ivins is cranking his bass and Kliph Scurlock is thrashing on the drums.  Steven Drozd, thankfully clean and sober these days, is loving life more than ever with this band, and Wayne gives us all plenty to be happy about.  In fact, during one of his conversations with us between songs, he got me a little teary eyed talking about loving one another and all that happy hippy shit.  I didn’t bother to stick around after the show to meet him, but my mission to someday give Wayne Coyne a hug is not off.

There are plenty of great memories from this show.  For one, I tried to send a voice mail to my sister when we all sang “Happy Birthday” (seeing as how it was the day before), but her phone rings something like 10 times before her “machine” kicks in, so we were done by the time it was over.  Also, when the set was over, Wayne informed us that a girl in the audience had “a bad reaction to the strobes” and asked us all to be “peaceful” while we waited for the encore.  And of course, seeing Darryl, Dani, Corey, Chris, Pete, Brit,  Tess, and the rest of the Fitchburg crew was well worth it.

So there you have it.  Now that my hearing is coming back, it’s time to look for some more shows to go see.  Hello, Cleveland!