Will “Clap Your Hands Say Yeah” make the “Same Mistake” again?

                Clap Your Hands Say Yeah came out with a new called “Same Mistake”. Many years ago, in 2005, CYHSY blew up in a great way. Here was a band, a good one, who received a great deal of attention on their debut. No one in the band was prepared for the onslaught of joy and love their debut received. Everyone in the band couldn’t handle it. Pitchfork adored it. Audiences loved it. Most bands would kill for the outpouring of love they received. Then their second album came.  

                Their second album couldn’t live up to the hype. Entitled “Some Loud Thunder” it might as well have been titled “Some Loud Blunder”. Critics tore it apart. People were angry at it. Every review I read talked about how over-hyped they were. Yet those who complained about the hype were the same ones who hyped the first one so hard. This was the first time I witnessed music reviewers creating their own drama. And a poor old indie rock band was caught in the middle unable to satisfy anybody. Discouraged they went on a hiatus. 

                Four years later the hiatus is over. Their previous friends/enemies have paid attention. I’ve seen the song featured on a few sites. No doubt I’ll see them on even more as days pass by. Listening to the new song it maintains my interest a bit more than “Some Loud Thunder”. Honestly I tried to get through their whole sophomore album but never could do it. As I got through this one new song of theirs, I have a hope that perhaps they’ll keep my interest for roughly 45 to 50 minutes. Since I’ve been pretty good at avoiding the pun until now, let me just say I hope they don’t make the “Same Mistake” again. Oh wait, that’s the title, oh well. 

                Behind these guys is a famous roller coaster: the Cyclone in Coney Island. The Cyclone is America’s most famous roller coaster. For them the roller coaster must represent the extreme highs and lows they’ve experienced as a band. CYHSY named their newest, yet unreleased album “Hysterical”. Perhaps it will be dedicated to the attention they first received for their debut. Reviewers loved them back then. CYHSY became popular and successful through reviewers and hype rather than a traditional record label. Back in 2005 that was weird, unheard of, and a ‘game changer’. So that made their fall from grace hurt much more. 

                I have nothing but happy memories of their first self-titled album. The music might have been a bit overrated but it did have heart. CYHSY led me out of my self-imposed experimental music world. Years had gone by with me insolating myself in endlessly difficult music, without beats, structure, or melody. When I first heard Alec Ounsworth’s voice I thought to myself: that’s the most annoying voice I’ve ever heard in my entire life. Listening to it way too loud in my friend’s hand-me-down car I grew to enjoy it. One day her car was packed with people and we heard the song “Is this Love”. We began to sing along. That song is only 3 minutes long but it felt longer. We got lost in the pure joy and happiness CYHSY appeared to seep out of their pours. For me the summer of 2005 was made up of these songs, of going to the beach and opening myself up to others. 

                Without Clap Your Hands Say Yeah I might not be the same sloth I am now. They helped me learn to enjoy the art of pop music. I became happier, fitter, and more productive. Everything fit into place. I’d hang out at the beach with this blasting on the cheapest stereo which offered CD-playing opportunities. My friends and I would swim together, tell each other jokes using a bone-dry wit, and go to Subway to get our friend to make us free sandwiches. Sure the sandwiches tasted like ass but it was a happy ass taste. 

                Here’s the part where I try to predict how their new album is going to do. I offer up pros and cons to a single song. No song should have to do so much, at least not this one, not this time. CYHSY is too personal to me to try and predict their fortunes in the tumultuous forces of online taste-making. I hope they make it. They deserve it.

Godspeed You! Black Emperor

                Godspeed You! Black Emperor has toured extensively over the past few months. Hardly anyone expected to see them again. I mean, you give up releasing albums or touring for about eight to nine years. That’s a long time particularly in the rapidly moving music world. A few years are an extremely long time in the music scene. Eight to nine years could be considered a lifetime. People change a lot, tastes change.

                Certainly their music contributes to this feeling of epic-ness, of something bigger and better than normal. Most bands take a few minutes pure song. GYBE had no problem letting a whole song take up twenty to thirty minutes. It gets hard not to personalize how much this group meant to me. Once they went on hiatus I felt alone. Sometimes after a particularly hard time I’d put them on and feel a little less overwhelmed by my situation. Things looked up when I felt the music soar. When you listen to so many musicians working together for a genuine love of music it is inspiring. I doubt GYBE were ever conceived as a money-making enterprise. Moving around the ensemble alone must have been a ‘break-even’ situation, never mind the fact they were ‘taper friendly’ and encouraged the audience to record the concerts. Upon going to the concert with a few friends they remarked how difficult it must be to tour in such a massive group, logistically speaking. 

                We hear great news from the otherwise shadowy collective, from Bruce Cawdon specifically (I know, it is weird they have names). All the shows they have been doing were for a greater purpose. Members from the collective will be working on a new album after the end of the tours. That rewards the faith (or hope as GYBE would put it) of those who continued to listen to the band during the prolonged hiatus. Finally they have decided to rise again from the ashes and release music once more for their devoted. 

                I can’t express how happy I am at this news. Whether or not what GYBE does is considered popular is totally irrelevant to me. GYBE doesn’t mind that Post-Rock or whatever people pigeon-holed it is no longer popular. For them popularity was never an issue nor will it be. Probably the opposite is true: when they began their hiatus in 2002, they noticed the proliferation of countless copycats. They moved on to other greener pastures as the genre tired itself out and exhausted, died an inglorious death. 

                There is nothing in the concerts to suggest what direction their music will be headed. For most of the concerts, they have stuck with their album material. If they do decide to something new, it will be completely unexpected. Perhaps they may be louder or quieter. We don’t know. All I know is I’m glad to see them return after such a long time away. Slow music is making a comeback.

Training Boys and Training Girls

               Well, you see, when you reach a certain age you begin noticing certain changes. Your voice gets deeper and you discover hair in places you didn’t really pay attention to before. Now those places happen to be more interesting than they were before, you’re not really sure why. This is just a part of growing up. Also, you’re an asshole to your parents most of the time yet they tolerate it. Congratulations, you’re a teenager.

                The teenage stage exists in life as something you can look back and say “Well, at least I got to be an asshole with no negative consequences for roughly seven years”. While you’re busy being a repugnant jerk you want love. You want someone to be attracted to you, either physically, mentally, or spiritually (I don’t know if the last one is something which attracts people, maybe that works for Mormons).

                Anyway, everyone goes through this phase. You find someone. Maybe you’re lucky and it is that special someone. Generally speaking, it isn’t. It is usually someone who you’re able to tolerate more than most people yet isn’t a friend of yours. They are something more, something special.

                I remember when this happened to me. Sitting in a crowded room learning Chinese, I saw her. She sat next to me since I was the only other teenager taking beginner’s Chinese. The rest of the class was made up of small children who already spoke Chinese and were taking the class to make me feel stupid, like I should have already known this information. As she sat down, I thought:

                “She looks so cool.”

                Her dress came out of the seventies. When she spoke to me, she had this positively sweet voice. It sounded educated. The education of countless schools I’ve never heard of nor attended. As she wrote down the Pinyin, she wrote down phonetic pronunciations next to next word. Before she left, I asked her what her name was. She told me Sam. I wished I had asked for her phone number, but I forgot to and kicked myself for it.

                One year later her friend Cat approached me. Cat said Sam found me interesting and wanted my email. I had almost forgotten about her. After I gave her my email address, she looked at me like I was crazy. It was such a terrible email address; I’m embarrassed I even had it as an email address.

                Sam emailed me the most articulate proposal for a date ever. I responded with coffee at Starbucks. After I figured out how to get uptown to some previously unknown super-rich area we drank coffee and chatted. While I sat there, she wanted me to ask her questions and pressed me to tell her about myself. Once I finished my coffee, I got back on the train back home. 

Looking at a giant Citibank tower growing out of nowhere as the train came out of the tunnel, I figured I failed. That was the worst experience I had in my entire life. I got home, checked my email, and saw she wanted to meet again. Her emails showed off a certain flair for writing. Mine showed the ability to construct a sentence utilizing basic grammar. 

Together we trained each other. Neither one of us had been in a relationship before. Each one of us overcame certain problems. I learned how to deal with a father who thought I was a worthless idiot though her mother was nicer. She learned the importance of flattering parents with literary references. Her parents thought I was cute though. My parents liked her, but when they first saw her they said “I thought she’d be prettier than that.” Even at that early point in my life, I had learned the important skill of hype. We taught each other all of these important skills and more. 

But it wasn’t meant to be. We grated on one another’s nerves. I didn’t like how she had been to Tibet but didn’t know how to get to Chinatown in lower Manhattan. Our politics clashed. I told her I loved her. Sam said she liked me. From that experience, I learned love is a strong word and like isn’t. Finally, after countless stabs at trying to ignore the other’s relentless ambition to get a perfect SAT score, the other’s ability to laugh through the entire duration of “A Walk to Remember”, and other larger problems we broke it off. 

We broke up over the phone. As she kept on hinting around the idea of breaking up, I bluntly asked:

“Are you trying to break up with me?”

She answered:

“Would you be upset if I said yes?”

I said:

“No, I wouldn’t. You’re free to choose whatever you want.”

The last thing I heard of her voice was:

“Thank you. You’re really nice.” Then she cried a little on the phone before she hung up. 

Everyone has a training boy or a training girl. That way, as you grow older, you’re not a twenty-something who has never been in a relationship. You’re someone who has loved and lost. Maybe next time you’ll be better. Next time things will work out longer. Wait, you’ll see.    

DOWNLOAD HELVETICA FOR FREE.COM: A review

                 Last time I reviewed something of Steve Roggenbuck’s, it was a smaller sampling. A chapbook called “i am like october when i am dead”. Honestly, I liked and disliked parts of it. This particular one shows off his love of typography, particularly in its exacting font size (80) and type of font (Helvetica, obviously). Being so absolute to its design reminds me a bit of John Barton Wolgamot’s precise standards. Compared to Steve’s previous stuff, there appears to be a great deal more personal detail. That works to his benefit.

                It’s the personal detail which warms me to each poem. Perhaps this was the crucial detail which made me a little cold towards his chapbook. According to his notes on in the book, these are poems from MSN messenger history from High School. Remembering what I was like in High School, I kind of wish I had kept more of those conversations. Going through these, I’m sort of reminded the same kind of feeling I had as a teenager, writing sweet sayings for people I cared about. Upon finishing these, I immediately went into my ‘notes’ section of my personal email to see if I had saved anything from that period in my life. 

                Perhaps it is this exploration of his past relationship which gives it soul. Even the more silly or random elements in the book are related. Together it feels unified a complete whole. Having common themes thread themselves around, like the affectionate phrases he shows towards the recipient of these messages, opens him up a little more to the outside world.

                His work appears to be obsessed with the consumption of vast amounts of TV, irony, and care for others. The first two are considered the death knolls of creative writing. David Foster Wallace claimed Television destroyed a great many writers, many them lazy or overly ironic. Real, genuine emotion couldn’t be properly expressed anymore; it was as if our brains were rewired, unable to cope with human interaction.

                Steve deftly avoids this problem and turns it on its head. Using common phrases and transforming them into poetry shows the actual power language still and can have. A simple bold statement of 

“HA HA AMAZING WHAT SOME PEOPLE ACCOMPLISH”

in and of itself wouldn’t be anything interesting. It sounds a bit cliche in all honesty. Dispersing this with tender pieces like 

“I HOPE THAT WE GET TO STAY TOGETHER AND BE IN LOVE FOR A VERY VERY LONG TIME”

gives the reader some idea of the actual relationship these two people had with one another. It reminds me of looking through old Facebook pages, old wall to wall posts. You’d read all this leftover debris from the internet, of a relationship which might not be around anymore. Rather than focusing on the detrimental aspects of online relationships, he focuses on the positive. People tend to remember the bad after the end of a relationship. But that which is left in computers, in person to person messages, is generally positive. Looking back, you see all the good moments you had. It becomes so easy to remember the bad, what lead to the end of a relationship, that you forget the good. The internet serves as an unbiased storage bin of these odds and ends. Steve celebrates that, even the most mundane and seemingly innocuous details. 

                I’d strongly suggest reading the whole thing in one sitting. It isn’t very long so it really shouldn’t be a challenge. The language is simple and easy to understand. Why I suggest reading it in one sitting is to get the full impact. Each piece feeds and adds to the other pieces. Everything is connected, nothing is alone. What appear to be tossed-off statements is actually part of the whole, part of the conversation. The face value boring statement:

“FINAL DESTINATION 3 IS OUT ON DVD” 

gets followed by:

“I WANT TO PICK YOU DAISES AND KISS YOU WHEN I HAND THEM TO YOU”

                Alone, either statement might not have the same impact. The first could be seen as just something ironic or plain pointless. Having it coupled with the next bit allows both to have a greater feeling, a greater emotion. Personally, I felt the sparseness of his chapbook focused more on the former and less on the latter. Each piece in the chapbook felt alone, isolated. Here we have the opposite occurring, and Steve’s language is carefully chosen and placed to have a maximum impact. I consider his approach towards poetry to not be far removed from the Dadaists, who used similar techniques regarding cut-ups. By taking the items out of context, he’s able to reassemble it into something much more interesting. I guess now it is called Flarf poetry with him as one of the better Flarfists. 

                In case you’d like to read this, he offers it completely for free on his minimally designed website. Please go here for further information on how to download and distribute. His obsession with the internet and its capabilities (Google Bombing, Flarfing) now has begun to bear fruit.

The King of Limbs

                Since I’m a music blog, I’m contractually obligated to tell you Radiohead released an album on Friday called “The King of the Limbs”. Honestly, I find it a bit unchill how their album celebrates a guy who sells severed limbs to hospitals, but that’s a whole other argument altogether. I got the album, listened to it, and realized I’m on the wrong side of 20 for this kind of music.

                Radiohead exploits the gray zone between pop and experimental, without being satisfying in either respect. I used to like Radiohead as a teenager, lapping up “Ok Computer” and “Kid A”. While I still enjoy both those albums, I don’t have the same level of fondness I used to have. Rather, as I listen to Thom Yorke’s incessant whining, I wonder was I this insufferable as a teenager? Was I really this angst-ridden, over a situation which didn’t merit such a dark response? Oh boo-hoo, I grew up in a suburb where I didn’t belong.  My life was so hard.

                If you’re under the age of 20, this kind of stuff should resonate. You ought to be able to connect with Thom Yorke’s opaque lyrics talking about his poor suffering life:

                “Oh poor me, I’m worth several hundred million dollars. I sell albums to kids who think they have actual problems. People generally find me weird and allow me to do crazy spastic dances under the pretense of ‘art’. Everybody has to like my albums or suffer the consequences of being ostracized as a ‘snob’ or ‘idiot’.”

                Kids I’m certain sit in the back of the bus, connecting with this on some level. I know I did. They’re sad they live in a smaller split level than their friends. Wearing that Radiohead sharp-toothed teddy bear patch, they feel the false discomfort Thom expresses. Life is hard when you live at home in an upper-middle class suburb and are fully financially supported by your parents. 

                What bothers me most is how Radiohead seems to have coasted most of this decade. Considering the ever-decreasing quality of their product, you’d think someone might be willing to tell them to be a bit more ambitious in their undertakings. Simply using a different marketing ploy isn’t the same as producing a product on par with their late 90s stuff. Now they have some sort of critical tenure. 

                Critical reception is guaranteed to be warm. Pitchfork has a grading system specifically for the band, grading on a scale from 9.0 to 10.0, rather than something more in line with the actual item itself. Those who do offer constructive criticism (like the Needle Drop, kudos to you good sir) are attacked by a rabid, internet-dwelling fan base. Indeed, their fan base is so dedicated I wonder whether or not it ought to count as a cult. Probably the fact its fan base tends to be so articulate adds to their aurora. 

                “Oh, we can’t be bad, look at all the colorful adjectives and references people use when writing about how great we are.” –Thom Yorke 

                Personally, I don’t like what’s happening. Radiohead is becoming a ‘dinosaur act’ where they only need to occasionally come out with a product every couple years. No matter how far they’ve fallen, they are graded on a curve since they are Radiohead. I’m upset because I don’t want such a thing to happen, because I think they were good, can still be good and simply fell into a rut where they could produce a product with a near-guarantee people will purchase it. Rather than saying ‘Radiohead is stupid. I never listened to them.’ I did actually listen to them, hence why I have so much concern for where they are going (or not going in their case). 

                Each one of Radiohead’s post OK Computer or Kid A offered me enough to latch onto, whether it was “Knives Out” from Amnesiac, “A Punchup at a Wedding” from Hail to the Thief, or “Jigsaw Falling Into Place” from In Rainbows. Here, I can’t find anything which encourages me to continue following them. Maybe this is where I finally leave them for good, unable to find any bright spots alluding to a bright future as a band.  My friends feel differently of course. 

                Reading my friends’ Facebook walls for this, I worry. All of them appear to be too old for this kind of moping. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it is good. Having listened to it, I don’t see any evidence of quality. Instead, they just took some songs from random sessions, said “Hey, that doesn’t sound totally half-assed, let’s release that” and they did it. Thom Yorke did a spastic dance for a music video and they’re done. 

 How someone after the age of 20 finding meaning in this worries me. Sure, this works wonders as you brood by yourself in your youth, but I thought people were supposed to grow out of this feeling. As I grow older, Radiohead doesn’t. It stays in the same mood, same age, covering the same territory, constantly disappointed by some unspeakable, unknowable force. I wanted them to grow old with me, to mature into constantly new sounds. 

Radiohead needs to grow up. I did.