The Factual Opinion

The Top 30 Albums of 2007: # 19

Dalek
Abandoned Language

Abandoned Language is a level five musical fire alarm made of strings. Layers and layers of strings soaring into the stratosphere, sinking beneath the folds of the earth, and screeching from a distance.  When the strings aren't enough, a saxophone or bagpipe is brought in to bring added mayhem to the cacophony.  And when this musical alarm isn't ringing it is either in preparations for it or has just finished you off, letting you sit in the desolate fields of its aftermath.  All this whilst the rhythm section roars steadily and ominously in the background.  MC Dalek himself has become has become much more selective and just as menacing here with his words.  He is at once our guilty political conscience, our fearless leader and the quiet hope inside us all.  Even though the "pages of history have remained the same for 600 years" he lies ready and waiting asking you "what's your fear nigga!?" and egging you on to "fight tanks with fists".  But more than ever here the music rises above the words, cutting them off even in mid sentence. It gives the feeling that Dalek has either given up or never was trying to change us,  but rather wanted what all musicians want:  for you to sit (or stand) and listen.  And what a breathless and heart wrenching listen it is.  There's no need for revolt at the moment, but when the time comes Dalek will be on the playlist I prepare for it.

-Andre Harris, 2008

Dalek's Official Website

The Top 30 Albums of 2007: # 20

The Dirty Projectors
Rise Above

Dave Longstreth is no stranger to making the odd concept album--in 2005, he released what he called an "opera" about Don Henley, The Getty Address.  Somewhere between then and now, he decided to record Rise Above, another concept album.  This time, instead of someone like Henley, he chose the always polarizing Black Flag.  Rise Above is the result--it's Dave Longstreth attempting to construct an album that's as much of what he could remember from Damaged, arguably Black Flag's most well-known album.  Longstreth's twist, as if that wasn't enough, was that he'd rely on his memory of the album alone, choosing not to listen to the original until it was completed.  It's the sort of experiment that, under any circumstances, should have resulted in something that's not only horrible to listen to, but grossly masturbatory as well.  On some level, that's what this reviewer experienced upon the first listen.  But there's far more going on here then a first listen can clue on in--like any music that's not immediately accessible, Rise Above will eventually bleed its way into your brain.  The construction of the vocals, the lyrics themselves, the notes--none of Rise Above sounds anything like Black Flag, but it also doesn't really sound like anything else either.  Whereas Flag's album was a brutal, openly hostile album that only pulled back on occasion for Henry Rollins to roar satirical diatribes against alcoholism and television, Longstreth's take is one that, while embracing the "don't need your fucking sympathy" of the lyrics, chooses to perform everything with languid hypnotic vocals, wind instruments and strings.  At the end of the day, the album can't completely jettison it's bizarreness, and it's a great example of an acquired taste--but until Scarlett Johannsen releases her Tom Waits covers album, it's the best what-the-fuck piece of music to have laying around.

-Tucker Stone, 2008

The Dirty Projector's Official Site

Comics Of The Weak: Everytime A Comic Sucks, An Angel Punches A Baby Dolphin

Young Avengers Presents Patriot # 1
Written by Ed Brubaker
Art by Paco Medina & Juan Vlasco
Published by Marvel Comics

There's got to be some kind of award for when a comic book about a teenager isn't full of cloying, sentimental dialog and existential hand-wringing.  That way, they could give it to Ed Brubaker for this completely out-of-left-field comic book.  It's little more than an examination of the Patriot character, a young black man suffering from both a lack of faith in himself, and an understandable amount of rage at a government that's mistreated both him and his family.  If that's not a recipe for a terrible piece of comic book writing, than that's only because he's not struggling with pregnancy or drugs.  It's safe to say that these sorts of stories are what comic books do worse than every other industry that plays its wares in the fiction department--super-hero comics have about as much subtlety as a burning building.  Yet, for some reason, Brubaker's little story about an angry kid is actually pretty well done.  It's not very exciting, no, but it is a decent little bit of character development--and regardless of what anybody might say about Green Lantern, that shit never happens.

The Ultimates 3 # 2
Written by Jeph Loeb
Art by Joe Madureira
Published by Marvel Comics

This is a piece of shit, obviously.  Of course, it's a piece of shit that outsold everything else, so go figure.  While everybody may have taken it apart and said nastiness about it, including this office, it's what a huge amount of people wanted.  (The argument that nobody knew it was going to be that bad until they bought it doesn't work--it was by the guys who handled Ultimate Power and Battle Chasers.  Pleas of ignorance aren't permitted under those circumstances.)  It's no real shock that this issue is poorly written--so was the first issue.  Nor has the ugly as fuck art gotten any less ugly-as-fuck.  But at least this one has the line, "Wanda is DEAD.  I will never be able to have SEX with my SISTER again!" 

(I didn't read this issue.)

Gotham Underground # 4
Written by Frank Tieri
Art by J. Calafiore & Jack Purcell
Published by DC Comics

Batman's entire publication history is littered with these sorts of mini-series--there's no company-wide term for them, but every super-hero fan knows them on sight.  They're the equivalent of a straight-to-DVD sequel to a Disney movie--not anywhere near interesting enough to be published in the main title and being handled by comics creators that are either on their way out the door or still struggling on their way in.  Although there's some afterlife for a few of these tales in the trade market, for the most part they're just bad stories, told badly.  Gotham Underground, while being vaguely advertised as being sort of important, is no different.  Four issues in, and all that Tieri has done is provided a plot that's scattered enough to involve every major member of the Batman family, as well as introduce quite a few new (and hideously designed) villains as well.  It's still got another few months to go before it reaches whatever horseshit twist is going to be termed the conclusion, but unless something on the level of a cross-over with Naruto occurs, it's another comic that will find itself on the way to being packing material for Ebay purchases.

Dan Dare # 3
Written by Garth Ennis
Art by Gark Erskine
Published by Virgin Comics

The same criticism that was leveled against Dan Dare # 2 is applied here--there's still no fiscal sense in Virgin attempting to build a brand name in comics with the sort of comics that can be filed alongside any failed super-hero/science fiction title published by Dark Horse or Image.  That being said, this title has gotten better with each subsequent issue, and this issue, which consists almost in totality of a well drawn and superbly structured military battle, is without a doubt the best one yet.  It's no real surprise that Garth Ennis can write a war sequence with this much clarity, but Erskine's artwork being able to support it so well does come a bit out of left field--his skills are mostly in more of the conversational style of comic.  Virgin will undoubtedly survive the woes of comic book publishing long enough to end up with a few decent trade reprints of these stories, but it would still be ridiculous to imagine that any of their line, Dan Dare included, will still exist in another few years.

The Authority Prime # 4
Written by Christos Gage
Art by Darick Robertson
Published by Wildstorm/DC Comics

It was a close one this time--although Prime served up it's fourth issue of non-stop fighting, it almost looked like the last page wouldn't include the final piece of dialog that guaranteed another issue of non-stop fighting to come.  Thankfully, one of the team decided that she wanted to "Kill them all," which, in honor of Marvel's One More Day storyline, was of course in a red font.  (Red fonts mean bad things.  Or good things, wait, good things?)  What's so incredibly fascinating about this terrible mini-series is that it's sort of implied that this is in some way leading up to something important for the Wildstorm line of comics--yet nothing of any importance has happened.  Even the previous issues implications of dead main characters was reversed in this issue, so they could get up and keep fighting--there's only two issues to go, and unless there's one of those full text pages that contain some Steinbeck level exposition, then this whole series is being published to fill the void of "stories where people get punched on every page" market.  Not a bad idea, except for the little fact that there isn't a void in that department. 

Marvel Zombies 2 # 4
Written by Robert Kirkman
Art by Sean Phillips
Published by Marvel Comics

Robert Kirkman is well on his way to a career in torture if he wants it.  This current Marvel Zombies mini-series is one of the most well-structured pieces of comics as boring, and boring as pain, in the history of the medium.  It's interesting, as a thought experiment, to ponder the fact that one actually requires talent to create something this irritating--if it were just another cheaply made and unreadable indie super-hero comic, then it's much easier to just hate it for a second and forget it.  But when it's from a couple of guys who do stuff one likes, like Kirkman's Walking Dead and Sean Phillips on Criminal, then one finds themselves a bit naked and unprepared to be this assaulted with banality.  It's like being raped by someone, but having them do it really slowly, like achingly slowly, but it still being over in the same amount of time as if it happened like it does in Gasper Noe's Irreversible.  (And yes, I know you find it offensive to compare reading a Marvel comic to being raped,  but seriously, we'd all rather get raped then murdered, wouldn't we?  Hell, we'd WAIT IN LINE to get raped if it meant we wouldn't get murdered.  Hell, I'd rather get raped twice then watch Forrest Gump again.  And I've been raped, so I can make the distinction.)

Hellblazer # 240
Written by Andy Diggle
Art by Leonardo Manco
Published by Vertigo/DC Comics

For the coming future, this feature may stop reviewing Hellblazer--at least until it gets a new writer, or something along those sort of drastic changes.  Andy Diggle's run on the title has been one of the most consistently entertaining of any regular comic book, and its starting to feel a bit disrespectful to see something that's this well done, this sure of what it is, to be sandwiched between things like Whedon's generic X-Men stories and Kirkman's hypnotically dull Marvel Zombies.  In other words, Hellblazer--still pretty great, everything else-still pretty bad.

Astonishing X-Men # 24
Written by Joss Whedon
Art by John Cassady
Published by Marvel Comics

Joss Whedon's run on Astonishing X-Men has never been lacking in the "clever dialog" content, and this issue once again delivers that, as Wolverine points out early in the issue that "Standing around talking feels a lot like standing around talking."  Of course, Wolverine's cry for blood results in the continuation of the various fight sequences that had been aborted by previous incarcerations and conversations, and this X-Men-vacation-among-aliens storyline (and Whedon's run on the title) are finally nearing its close.  The result of this (one assumes) expensive experiment in letting a popular television writer handle some of Marvel's most popular action figures has been high sales, and that's really all that mattered anyway.  It's a worthy argument, frequently made, that these are the sort of things super-hero comics can do best--decently structured writing coupled with excellent art telling a pretty standard action movie trope--but after Grant Morrison's All-Star Superman, it's clear that even the most basic of genre super-hero work could have been quite a bit more inspired, considering Whedon and Cassady's track record.

Legion of Super-Heroes # 38
Written by Jim Shooter
Art by Francis Manapul & Livesay
Published by DC Comics

Jim Shooter continues his attempt to make one of the most extravagant versions of super-hero spandex porn relevant and readable.  The thing about the Legion of Super-Heroes is that, like Marvel's X-books, it's a comic with a massive cast of characters to draw from, making it perfectly designed to be the sort of comic that appeals to the limited audience interested in comics that make no attempt to attract new readers.  The difference is that the X-books do reach a large audience that doesn't seem to be phased by the detailed soap opera history that the books carry, whereas the only people who keep up with the Legion seems to be old comics fans angry that the comic constantly revamps itself, dumping the massive history its built.  (There's also the constant argument that the X-characters are "relatable" to a modern audience, usually followed by pointing out that, when they aren't dying, they date each other and whine a lot.)  Jim Shooter's job on Legion shouldn't be referred to as a "thankless" one, if only because that description would conceivably apply to anybody who ever worked on a super-hero comic book--but his job certainly isn't one that looks appealing.  DC's corporate history makes it clear that they're never going to stop trying to publish a Legion comic book, no matter how many times they cancel it due to low sales, and Shooter's current position as the guy who's trying to get it to appeal to anyone who wasn't born in the 60's is pretty much that--the comics news may treat the former Marvel Editor-In-Chief as something historic, but this sort of detail is the very definition of work-for-hire.  He's teamed with the sort of artist that Legion probably best needs, someone who draws the stylized spandex costumes that a team of thousands requires--and so far, the comic is working as best as it really can.  But the Legion is published for a small slice of a market that's already dwindling, and it's going to take a lot more than watching Lightning Lad break down weeping for this comic to pull in a new group of readers.

-Tucker Stone, 2008

The Top 30 Albums of 2007: # 21

Band of Horses
Cease To Begin

Let’s start with a few assumptions about amateur music criticism.  Firstly, your average fan of progressive music usually does not have full grown children, and is probably proud of the fact that they moved out of the suburbs some time ago.  Second, what excites this fan, and fills said fan with feelings of supreme and elite satisfaction, is when progressive music delivers on the progressive categorization and sounds like something new and different; that is to say, the listener had certain expectations and preconceptions about how music sounds, and some band comes along and moves beyond those expectations.  Some fans like their progressive sensibilities a little freakier than the rest, but the assumption is that this mold-breaking is what gets the critical everyman fired up.  Cease to Begin takes umbrage with both of those assumptions.  The first one is easy – they moved from Seattle to South Carolina because, one presumes, South Carolina is considerably more comfortable, particularly if you’ve been trying to make it as an independent musician for 10+ years.  The second one takes a bit of critical cajoling.

You see, when demanding the unexpected, the assumed critical fan presumes (rather uncritically) that the unexpected will sound like nothing else to come before.  Everyone knows what their parents music sounds like, and while some of it’s quite good, it also doubles as music for car trips to Grandma’s and Superbowl halftime shows.  Similarly, everyone knows what tired, washed up efforts sound like.  And a band’s fans know what the band sounded like before.  So if the band stays where it was, or else it moves into Grandma / Superbowl, it shouldn’t be worthy of critical praise.  Right?

Fight this impulse!  The TFO likes the pursuit of irony and the exploration of the abstract as much as the next group of people with outer-borough sensibilities, but let’s be reasonable.  The unexpected delivery of comfortable music shouldn’t lower one’s esteem for the music.  After all, it’s the surprise you wanted, even if it came in the form of sentimental, straightforward classic/roots-rock/pop that makes every Sunday morning better.  Given Band of Horses previous album of comfortable, abstract/haunting-pop/rock that made every Sunday morning better, Cease to Begin defied this reviewer’s expectations in a very good way.  This pleasure is not a guilty one (unlike, say, the Shins, Miranda Lambert, or even more obviously, that beat-boxing douche from American Idol, all of which are guilty like Paris).  It just requires the critic to think progressively about progressive expectations to move beyond guilt and pride to place this album up where it belongs at the end of the year.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to drink some decaf, listen to my Garrison Keillor podcasts, and revisit some Billy Collins poetry with critical impunity, biotch.

-Josh Woodbeck, 2008

The Top 30 Albums of 2007: # 22

Dizzee Rascal
Maths + English

In a fairly unsurprising turn of events, Dizzee Rascal’s third album—and first to be released without an accompanying flurry of grime hype—has received nowhere near the amount of critical praise or media attention as his first two.  Hell, it hasn’t even gotten its own CD pressing yet.  So you can be forgiven for failing to notice that Maths + English is the most accomplished album of his young career, and the first to establish Dizzee Rascal as a career artist as opposed to a genre mascot.  The album arc is simple:  First, Dizzee dabbles around in the past. Then, he lingers for a second in the present before blasting off into the future.  The opening act of Maths + English pays tribute to rap music circa 1988.  You couldn’t pick two pieces of music more diametrically opposed and equally emblematic of that year than Rob Base & DJ EZ Rock’s “It Takes Two” and Public Enemy’s It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back.  Dizzee tweaks the former’s groundwork for the dazzling “Old Skool (Pussyhole),” and follows it with a subtler homage to the latter with “Sirens.” The album’s middle act takes a genre-baiting victory lap, with the highlight “Suk My Dik,” which pretty much nails the subject right there in its title.  Then, things start to get crazy.  “Da Feelin’” sounds as if it could have been produced by Felix Da Housecat; it’s an uncharacteristic, sunnier-than-Springsteen ode to girls in their summer dresses.  That track sets both the album’s high mark for genre-expansion and the pace for the closing act.  Amidst the wacky singalong “Wanna Be” (Not a Spice Girls cover), the spacious “Excuse Me Please,” and the familiarly titled “U Can’t Tell Me Nuffin’”, he sneaks in what could be the most pragmatic industry advice song ever.  “Hard Back (Industry)” advises young MCs on minutiae such as how to pick a good manager and why to buy your house before your car.  Most importantly, he warns, “Keep your shit original”—which is twice as powerful because he’s just spent an entire album doing just that.

-Marty Brown, 2008

The Top 30 Albums of 2007: # 23

M.I.A.
Kala

“How many no-money boys are crazy?  How many start a war?”  The real answer to those frequently-quoted questions from Kala’s “Boyz” is, “Um… historically, a lot.”  But in M.I.A.’s hands, the clever lyrics become completely subversive; she makes you believe that no poor kid ever caused any conflict ever.  This may have a lot to do with M.I.A.’s hyper-aggressive persona—she could say just about anything with enough force and you’d buy it; let’s hope she never gets into advertising—but it also stands at odds with the way Kala sounds.  Kala sounds and feels poor, and not in a substandard way; in a Jean-Michael Basquiat way.  M.I.A. recorded live South Indian drummers for the out-of-control beat on “Bird Flu;” they sound as if they could be the sickest subway performers on the planet.  “World Town” inspires visions of an all-aboriginal cast of Annie.  The cover is absolutely atrocious, but something about its obnoxious neon colors and badly pixilated graphics suits the album perfectly.  It comes off like a concert poster done on an Amiga in a Sri Lankan public library.  And Kala’s poverty feels hostile, from the gunshot chorus of “Paper Planes” to the anthemic opener, “Bamboo Banga.”  Even her references to rock icons The Modern Lovers, The Clash and Pixies are rife with instigation.  She turns “Roadrunner” into a rallying cry, “Straight To Hell” into an aural assault, and “Where Is My Mind?” into a voice in the wilderness.  In the end, M.I.A.’s subversiveness may undermine her actual political intent.  Even so, her greatest achievement in drawing together so many disparate sources into a united, revolutionary patchwork might not be actually changing the world, but making you want to believe that she can.

-Marty Brown, 2008

The Top 30 Albums of 2007: # 24

A Place To Bury Strangers
A Place To Bury Strangers

Gone are the days of critic-asshattery!  Thanks to the world of bittorrent and a couple other sites this reviewer doesn't want anybody to ruin by making popular, no more can a music critic alight on an album that's impossible to find.  If this was '92, then falling head over heels with an album of which only 500 were originally pressed would've been enough for the reader to call for the waterboards.  But now, anything is accessible, so everything is permissible.  Goebbels said that, and although he was talking about, you know, gross, awful genocide stuff, it's an apt description of the world in which the media vampire now lives.  So there it is, surfing the wave of information, A Place To Bury Strangers--an album that Pitchfork triumphed AFTER the New York Times said they were the "loudest band in new york."  While that's not exactly accurate, as Sightings kind of trump them on the volume tip, the NY Times gets a pass--they do have some other stuff to focus their reporting on besides who's playing in Williamsburg.  (Just don't tell Williamsburg.  They still think that they're going to impact the upcoming Presidential election.  They're fucking ADORABLE.)  The other thing that Bury Strangers gets labeled with, almost as consistently, is the comparison to Joy Division, a band that they sort of sound like if you've stayed up all night blasting Hair Police.  Hell, Gloria Estefan and her Miami Sound Machine sounds like Joy Division after a Hair Police marathon.  No, the comparison everybody should have made was that Bury Strangers sounds like an amped up New Order, if Ian Curtis hadn't totally blown everybody's mind by taking the INXS way out. 

Now, we know what you're thinking.  You're thinking that New Order is just Joy Division sans Ian.  Yeah, that might make sense if this was Intro to Trig, but it's fucking MUSIC baby doll.  You're probably also thinking that if Band X (Bury Strangers) is equal to Band Y (New Order) plus Voice 7 (Ian Curtis,) then why not just marathon New Order and Joy Division?  As long as you skip the New Order that showed up on the So I Married An Axe Murderer soundtrack, you'll only be hearing dope tunes, right?

That's where you wrong--because there's a little number two next to that Y.  (That means it's Y multiplied by ITSELF.)  Why? 

Because A Place To Bury Strangers also sounds a lot like it's got My Bloody Valentine's guitars.  In other words, holy living god, it's X=Y(Y) + 7, or X-7 divided by Y = Y.

Yeah, you don't want to admit that your mind just got blown.  You don't want to, but how are you going to explain to your girlfriend why I'm IN YOUR HOUSE, WASHING MY HANDS.  Try that one on, flapjack.

-Tucker Stone, 2008

A Place To Bury Stranger's Official Site

The Top 30 Albums of 2007: # 25

Caribou
Andorra

The realization that very little is actually that revolutionary and new is a very quaint one.  The realizer usually comes to this sentiment as if discovering it for the first time, when in fact he's been surrounded by the sentiment since the Beginning (seriously, God gave Adam a woman, only to have Adam's sons grow up and discover there were already women elsewhere.  Drag about losing your rib, dawg.)  If he's lucky, he moves through emotional response to the same old shit, through analysis of communal response, through deconstructionist appreciation of the 'play' between all that same old glorious shit that means so much to so many each it comes around.  If he's unlucky, he smokes a lot, grows his hair out, listens to Coal Chamber, and makes out publicly with some really aggressive girl with self-esteem issues.  Against this backdrop of have's and have not's Caribou's Andorra is decidedly one of the lucky ones.

It’s dance music, but you put it on when you’re done dancing and ready to sit around and stare at some cards or some people in a dim room.  It’s synthetic, but begs to be identified with times gone by, disco vibes, and pretty songs named after girls…  You want I should carry on like this?  It’s something new, but sounds like something you heard before, except you can’t get over that newness, only like that timeless old stuff, and it’s all only relative, isn’t it.  Discuss history of band name and artist’s gradual exploration further and further back in pop music; try something conceptual like writing from a fictional character’s point of view, or make a character out of a real person.  This album is mostly original, and for that, the TFO recommends it.  At number 25, you’re not here for fully realized ideas and heavy lifting.  You’re here to agree or disagree, you’d prefer a concise write up as this isn’t the top ten, and you’d prefer to have the trivialization of complex ideas left to the names and brands you recognize.  Fair enough.  Check out Caribou’s Andorra, friends and neighbors.  We liked it more than Feist.

-Josh Woodbeck, 2008

Official Caribou Site