Low, and behold I got a response and interest in an interview. Below is an exegesis of the responses I got from Mr. Kim Galibert.
Q. Galibert - is that a French surname, or something else?
Ah oui, c’est ??a. my father was born in france, came to new york when he was in his20’s. my mom is korean, they met at a music school in nyc.? pronounced ‘galleybear’, similar to the way Stephen Colbert his name ‘coal-bear’.
Q. What are your backgrounds? Are either of you a Julliard or MIT graduate in search of greener pastures?
i got kicked out of cornell university when i was 17. that puts me in a fairly exclusive club, which also counts kurt vonnegut as a member.
Q. How long have you guys been in the music business and how long have the ? two of you worked together?
i don’t think either of us would describe ourselves as being in the music business 
?? we first met about 5 or 6 years ago, worked together a bit (Music Don’t Stopmusic don’t stop and Rhythm-Carryrhythm harken back to those days).
after falling out of touch, we got together to jam in november of ‘05 (all along the chilltowerchilltower), and it was obviously a moral imperative that we work together.
Q. If you’ve made the executive decision not to sell your souls to David Geffen or Bertelsman Music Group, what exactly is your plan for taking the world by storm?
in my fevered imaginings, it works like this: it becomes all about the live shows, which we put on in non-traditional venues - maybe something more like a church revival, maybe like a rave, or maybe a gigantic make-out party in a planetarium/museum. we want to play for nerds, for wordy people, for people who don’t watch tv or read people magazine. for people who cherish play, and puzzles and math and music. in one weird way or another a significant part of our desired demographic is people who love the movie ‘wordplay’.
the audience is encouraged to participate in the show, by texting us their secrets (or those of their friends). this stream of thoughts and words (if we’re lucky, it’ll be a bit like postsecret.com, a bit like mcsweeney’s) get woven into new songs onstage, mixed in with our existing songs, mashed up beyond recognition, each show thus a unique event. the audio/video from the shows also lives on and mutates as remixers take parts of the performance and create new work (this is already happening). we also use the audience to do science experiments during the show - the first being a test for telepathy based on the observation that when you become aware that you are being observed, you often knows where the observer is, even when they are not in your direct field of view.
Q. Are you planning on sticking to your off-commercial business model, and insist on a non-paper, gasoline-free distribution model?
everywhere i look here, i see that we have to make undesirable compromises.
Q. Since you live in Upstate NY and Ms. Abbott is in CT, do you guys tour? Where and when?
i still burn disks for promotion, and sale. i’d prefer that it work like a digital roadside vegetable stand, ie: take what you like, leave what you think it is fair in the jar. but then should we sell only bits and bytes at our shows? what percentage of sales would we lose?
for that matter, should we even perform live? when you think about it, the whole concert industry is pretty horrific for the planet. even if we’re running on bio-diesel or magic fairy dust, we’re still on the road x days of the year, and every place we stop hundreds or thousands of people arrive in their cars, trample the fields into mud, drink their bottled water, and generally trash the place.
Q. Do you travel by train, bus, car or air? Have you guys got any overseas contacts to facilitate any club dates?
frankly, i also think at times that we’ve long overshot the time allowed to fix overpopulation/climate change/peak oil, and that we’ve only got 10 or 20 years of ‘civilization’ left. in that scheme of things, the remedial steps that we consider (recycling, switching to biodiesel) are completely insignificant. we should be planning how to live life without cars. we should be getting our teeth fixed, buying lots of pairs of nice sturdy boots, nosing book after book on farming.
[sorry, i digress]
i do have our road rig down to a manageable size, previously i had a subaru wagon full of gear, recently i was telling christina that we could tour on motorcycles. she was non-plussed.
even better, electric motorcycles. i need one of those right now.
Q. So, what was the turn out for the New Year’s show in Albany at Red Square, this past January?
there were 75 or so people in attendance. and very few of those were there to see us. we did connect with them tho…
Q. So you guys are like the old-school jazz players ? gathering local talent as pick-ups on your local gigs, that’s both very progressive and retro. I’m assuming that this approach is part of your ‘manifesto’?
indeed, and as with the old school players i think the best stuff will surface in the after show late night jams.
we are likely joined onstage by a couple of local musicians/remixers, who lend to the evening’s show their own particular vision. here we are looking for beatboxers, cellists, spoken word artists, live-loopers, activists. hopefully this also becomes a platform for disseminating truths about climate change, the insane and completely unacceptable risks inherent in an attack on iran, racial/gender equality issues, sustainability, peak oil, the bogosity that is ethanol/nuclear, healthcare, etc.
business-wise, we operate a bit like npr, you get free access most of the time, sometimes you get nudged to contribute, or maybe paid subscribers get access to premium content. if this doesn’t generate sufficient income we may have to insert audio ads into the free downloads. maybe mix 3-4 tracks together into a dj set, interspersed with ’support the hba’ reminders.
at shows, we’ll sell promo cards with one time passwords for access to special downloads, including audio of the evening’s performance. i’m hoping that concertgoers, knowing that all the music is available online, will purchase artwork instead of cd’s, and that the shows will attract local artists who display/sell their own work next to ours.
Q. I noticed the names of several guest musicians on your site ? how extensive are their contributions?
the guest musician contributions are not that extensive, at least on the hba repetoire. i hope that we’ll get more involvement from them as the hba starts to reach a larger audience.
Q. Is nebulae one of the pick-up artists you work with, or is he/she just a studio entity that remixes stuff that you’ve already recorded?
we met nebulae through the ableton live forum. we’ll be releasing a nebulae remix cd soon, he’s got another track in the works.
i also expect that he will remix us live, onstage, when we’re in the same neck of the woods.
Q. Could HBA easily be expanded into a 24 piece orchestra and Choir?
i don’t think we can loop more than six or so. but i think that we’ll keep it simple for the next set of gigs, perhaps 2 long sets per gig, each with a guest soloist, cello maybe, or percussion/beatboxer. i also have a few mad scientist things to roll out, notably the ability to ‘play’ christina’s vocal loops with my guitar.
Q. Is Ms. Abbott a veteran of all this live looping stuff or is this something she’s come into through hba?
ms. (abbott) is a newcomer to the evil that is known as live looping. she is about as natural as they come, though.
Q. Despite Ms. Abbott’s Ricki Lee Jones tells? was it difficult for you to start working with her?
i adore rickie lee jones. she’s a god, like joni, ani, tori, tricky. she’s a supreme being, like lee-loo. ‘young blood’, ‘weasel and the white boy cool’, ’show biz kids’, ‘rebel, rebel’, i need say no more.
so, not an issue.
Q. Everybody on radio these days is supposed to be under 30, photogenic and ? relationship-crazy ? or something. How does HBA fit ? or not ? into the ? current landscape?
christina could fit into that world (mtv/radio), although i don’t think she’d have any desire to. i only fit in if i go along with the mad scientist routine, fortunately i do excel at that. but, like i said earlier, radio and mtv seem to have lost their power, they used to accompany my friends and i through the day, we’d talk, "didja hear that new track?" "see that new tori vid ‘god’?" "hey - the pretenders are playing this weekend.” i don’t think i’ve heard a single concert listing of interest on the air in the last year. so, if the bands i love (air, thievery corp, groove armada, dandy warhols, ani, tori, manu chao) are never on any of the local radio stations, why would i even bother trying to get my music on ‘hot 95′?
we do try to get onto stations like kcrw, although we haven’t really had any notable success. i have to look at sirius/xm too.
Q. How did that NPR spot come along?
nothing that exciting, there’s a spot to submit your music, i was expecting a whole lot of traffic as a result of getting listed, turned out to be mostly other bands.
it will definitely be interesting to see if we get any traction in the real world. in cyberspace we get 50-150 unique visits a day, thousands of downloads/month. i don’t know if/when that will translate into 200-500 people showing up for our gigs. we’re certainly reaching more people on the net than in person.
Q. Would you prefer that your work get exposure through radio, or would you rather crawl? through the back door of television and movies?
this stuff is all intertwined, complicated, in flux. the old model (radioplay=sales) is dead, deceased, bereft of life…. i live 30 minutes north of nyc. there is _no_ radio here. inconceivable! this city, indisputably one of the top ten in the world, a cultural mecca, has no radio. unbelievably great music is being released every day - why isn’t anyone playing it? how do i find out about concerts? where is my sultry and mysterious late night dj? why isn’t she spinning tunes that make me pull over and scramble to find paper and pen? (there is one - delphine blue - but she has just a few hours a week on tuesdays. if i get rich i’m gonna buy her her own friggin’ station).
the hba makes only a token effort to get onto local radio, our friends who do get more airplay don’t really see any significant payback.
i could see our music on tv, i think we’d be a perfect fit for ‘weeds’. but the movies is where we belong. there’s got to be a ‘magnolia’, ‘harold and maude’ or ‘paris, texas’ in our future. the tools that we use (most importantly, ableton live) would allow us to deliver a full length soundtrack in a matter of weeks. we are dying to do a project like this.
we’re ready to tour, but given limited time/funds i think that we may try to get to europe before the states. (proportionally) more than half of our web traffic is from overseas and i think that Europeans will be much more receptive to sultronica and all that it entails.
it’s also way too congested here. almost everyone i know is in at least one band. it’s really not about the music at all. it’s about the show, the theatrics, the personal drama of the albino newlywed gender indifferent lead singer who was raised by puppies and discovered by steve buscemi.
Q. Today, most pop stars are post-processed so that the singer actually hits ? the note and the style of the rhythm section altered from acoustic to synth. How do you guys respond to that?
[That’s] another reason that i think our live shows will resonate with people is that christina is the real deal, there’s no pitch correction, she just excels at putting words next to each other.
Q. To be most complete, it would be appropriate for me to ask where the two of you hail from. Since your parents met in NYC, is it appropriate for me to assume that you grew up in NYC? And how old are you ? not that it might have any relevance ?
i don’t mind telling my age - i’m 46. i was born in manhattan, grew up in the bronx, then chappaqua in westchester county.
and it does have relevance, for instance, i doubt that any record company would sign me. i have this ongoing conversation with one of my friends, talented, hot, female, 34-ish, whose goal is to get signed. she just doesn’t understand that she’s too old to get signed.
not that you want to be signed anyway, you really aren’t going to make any money - i remember an interview with one of the guys from semisonic where they added up the years of work before the hit, the touring in support of it, and they made like $5 (exaggeration due to laziness and lack of fact checking)
Q. You mentioned your parents and how they met in music school ? what instruments do they play and did that have any direct impact on your musicianship? (not that there are many parents that raise their kids to be electronic dub and loop masters, but…)
my mom came to the states from korea on a scholarship to study classical piano, my earliest memories are of her practicing. she taught me to play piano early on. my dad is more on the jazz/big band/brubeck side of things, he was studying the organ when they met.
[diversion: this drummer is totally the shit. i don’t even know his name. there is no better drummer:
I?ll admit it up top?I love making lists, especially when I get to try and arbitrarily quantify things that should never be directly compared with one another. This list is pretty idiosyncratic and subjective, and I?ll try and explain my rationale a bit for why things are where they are. Longevity is key?sometimes (like with Joanna Newsom), I?ve just started getting into a record, and haven?t had enough time to sit with it (I don?t trust my initial instincts anymore), so it?s lower, but present on promise as much as performance. And I guess if I were to offer an overarching curatorial and ranking methodology, it would be ?selected and ranked in order of how much I listened to and enjoyed each one this year.? That feels fair; I?m not trying to rationalize my thoughts to anyone but myself, really. All in all, this is just a big, fat excuse to write chunks about records I really enjoyed this year, nothing more. Over the last three days, I sat with each album and played it until I was done writing about it. There was a lot of last-minute shifting.
Programming notes?I?ll share some of my pals? top tens on Monday, and hopefully soon after, post my year-end mixes (I?m hoping for four again). As always, feel free to quibble, agree, or issue vaguely threatening polemics in the comment section.
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19. Joanna Newsom Ys (Drag City)
Usually, the type of ornate bedecking that Van Dyke Parks applies to pop music annoys the hell out of me?I?m particularly not fond of some of the overwrought and unnecessary lyrical things he did to Smile, for example?but on Ys, it fits perfectly well. Newsom is well aware that, despite the attempts of many poets and songwriters over time to prove otherwise, nature is not simple. At any given time, there are billions of things happening, and attempting to take everything in is an impossible task at best, leading to most artists resorting to odes to trees and the like. But Newsom shoots for the stars, and she brings a few home with her to prove she?s been there. And Parks? arrangements, in all of their delicate hyperactivity, are the perfect complement for Newsom’s insane level of pretense.
Ys is a success on multiple counts, not the least of which is Newsom?s skill at crafting a melody, most impeccably on opener ?Emily,? a song that requires the same over-attention to symbolic detail as, say, Durer?s Melancolia (from which the album?s sorta-corny cover took a fair bit of inspiration, as well), and ?Sawdust and Diamonds,? which, like the first track, relies on delightfully descending melodic figures that tumble and float. Newsom?s voice is amazing, too?fuck what anyone else says, she?s got one of the most amazing and surprising ranges in pop music today. She?ll go from a Renaissance fair trill to a nearly punk shriek in a second, and back again to boot. There has been plenty else said about the content of her songs, in more interesting ways than I can go into here. Try this one to start.
18. Absentee Schmotime (Memphis Industries)
Okay, don?t get thrown by the punny title. This isn?t sadface music. I don?t like sadface music. Schmotime has some sadface lyrics, sure, but they?re wrapped in shiny rock wrapping, like if the best of Steely Dan?s 70s session musicians surrounded the more outgoing, Tanglewood Numbers version of David Berman. Wait, where are you going? Come back! Dig the irresistible male/female interplay of ?You Try Sober,? which I wrote up here, and which has only grown on me since then. I love how it just starts repeating itself after a while, condensing a huge interpersonal problem into a cyclical argument that goes absolutely nowhere, and realizes how humorous that is. Or the shiny self-loathing of ?We Should Never Have Children,? with the great counterpoint of what sounds like the gang from ?Annie? during the chorus, who applaud after the song collapses at the end. Or the gleaming, shrieking and chiming guitars of ?Getaway? and the simply great ?Something to Bang.? Schmotime is crisp, pragmatic working-class rock and roll?a solidly unassuming record that totally caught me by surprise this year, and kept popping up throughout.
17. The M?s Future Women (PolyVinyl)
I?m a sucker for the rare, impeccable power-pop record (last year?s number one = Twin Cinema, #3 all-time favorite band = Guided by Voices), and The M?s released this year?s best. Throughout, Future Women?s guitars are crisp, the harmonies are intricately arranged, and the melodies are tightly wound, reflecting the muted eccentricities of Ric Ocasek and the unblemished sheen of something like, I dunno, NRBQ?s All Hopped Up. The album starts incredibly strong, with the mod-era Kinks/T.Rex pastiche ?Plan of the Man? (mp3) which derives its vocal timbre from Bolan, and its guitars and self-realization from Davies. It segues perfectly into its sibling, the equally BritMod but more sinuous, ?Shawnee Dupree.? They then work in another clear glam nod, on the propulsive, frenetic fourth track ?Trucker Speed,? to The Slider?s ?Buick Mackane?: both meet their demise in storms of Hermann strings, glaring guitar lines and throbbing electricity. Even the slow jams have potency??Mystery Veil? is anxious and brooding, and ?Light My Love? is charming and desolate. The title track is a surprising country singalong, the verses in block harmony and the chorus a progressively intense showcase for the pained voice of Josh Chicoine, who also happens to sort of resemble actor Aaron Eckhart. I saw them play live earlier this year (pictures have seemingly disappeared), and that?s what made me like them so damn much. They?re a badass performing band, a group of indie mensches if there ever were one, and their songs are even better in person. Do go see them if you get the chance. You?ll come around as well.
16. Justin Timberlake Future Sex/Love Sounds (Jive/Zomba)
At times on this album, Timberlake is working some front-row dude at the strip club-level sleazy/creepy, but that’s part of his appeal. He’s got no shot at reaching the iconic levels of (a)sexuality as his clear idol (Prince), so he revels in the rich, white club-dude approach toward displays of sexuality. He’s the dude that stays in the background when Girls Gone Wild comes to the bar he’s at, but a.) he’s still at that bar, but b.) he’s with the girls who don’t do the GGW thing. It works for him too. First, he’s not trying to be something he’s not, which is very wise in a career-longevity sorta way, and second, he’s fucking harmless, and you can’t hate him, no matter how much you try.
But let’s not forget the reason for the season here. Timbaland is why this record is what it is, and he first makes his presence known in the “Let Me Talk to You” prelude, when he sets up the glasses-with-differing-amounts-of-water up as percussion and, of course, samples his own fat voice into the mix, perfectly. This, naturally, segues perfectly into “My Love,” probably the album’s triumph, where Timba beatboxes under some anthemic, ascending synth lines, Timber talks about his full-on whatever for (his clear female doppelganger, cf. first graf) Cameron Diaz. Oh yeah, and those synths were just the red carpet for T.I., who drops a half-ass verse that’s still better than Rick Ross’ entire album. “Sexyback,” as has been properly mentioned in other places, was a wack first single and bled into early negative buzz around the album (I know I was disappointed), but works well in context here. But there’s plenty of redemption on the full-length. “Lovestoned” wins the prize for the best chorus on the record, especially with that orchestral lead-in. But “Damn Girl,” one of the few non-Timbaland tracks, is my favorite. Man, but why are people still letting Will I. Am rap on their records? He’s one of the 10 best beatmakers alive, sure, but he raps as well as, well, Pharrell. That chopped organ he puts on top of that Zigaboo Modeliste-lite drum patter is magnificent, though. And I can’t leave without mentioning the “social justice” song toward the end. It’s got a gospel choir in it.
15. Clipse Hell Hath No Fury (Jive)
I know it was delayed three years, and the group went through no amount of shit stopping it leaking and getting it released, but I for one am glad Hell Hath No Fury came out when it did: when I was knee-deep in studying and watching and writing about The Wire. I wouldn?t? know even know what a ?re-up? was if I hadn?t seen Omar steal one, delivered in a girl?s backpack, from Marlo Stanfield. And I know that bracelets = handcuffs. I still don?t know what ?twinkie trains? are, though. Most importantly, though, I know that the drug game is a capitalistic enterprise just like the legal ones, and its highs and lows are just as thrilling and scary. But the Clipse are doing the N.W.A.-but-with-a-conscience thing here, relentless braggadocio and occasionally disturbing misogyny (the two best songs, ?Trill? and ?Wamp Wamp?) tempered with self-doubt (?Mama I?m So Sorry? and the creepy, Geto Boys-biting ?Nightmares.? The one low point is ?Mr. Me Too,? where Pharrell (and Hugo) creates an unconscious, dark pulse, but then raps the first verse and bougies up the joint. Seriously, Pusha and Malice, you?re two of the most accomplished rappers alive. Don?t waste a verse on Pharrell.
But back to the beats?they?re stark and memorable, each one a polished genre piece unto itself. The chopped up steel drums, popcorn timbales, and Korg line of ?Wamp Wamp,? and the the busted-squeezebox sneeze on ?Mama I?m So Sorry? don’t leave the mind easily. But there are only two amazing songs on this record, and one of them is ?Keys Open Doors,? one of the most convincing arguments I?ve ever heard for making a living dealing drugs. It?s also the third in a 2006 triumvirate of rap songs with variations on the abbreviation ?kilo? in its title?Birdman and Lil? Wayne?s ?1st Key? and Ghostface?s ?Kilo? as the other two. Just like in West Baltimore, dealing is the ghetto American Dream, leading to a life where ?The cars is big, the cribs is bigger/The kids are happy, the perfect picture.? Despite Pusha opening his Frigidaire and finding 25-to-life in there, the real criminals are, of course, the ?Internet sharin? my files.? The restrained, looped gospel choir floating in the background is as stark white as the product, too. The best song on Hell Hath No Fury though, and the one on repeat in my car for the greater part of November, is ?Trill,? one of the darkest, nastiest things I?ve heard in a long time. At this point, I want to turn this over to this guy, who both feels about this song, and Hell Hath in general (spotty, occasionally great), the same way as I, but in much more depth.
14. Howe Gelb ?Sno Angel Like You (Thrill Jockey)
Gelb?s songs here are sketchy, and consistently threaten to crumble for lack of firm structure. His lyrics sound like the positivist exhortations of a taciturn rural preacher, whose most revelatory thoughts are still buried deep inside. The songs are meant as the sort of practical inspiration that typically gets mounted on blocks of wood and displayed in offices: ?May You Make Out With A Buck More Than You?ll Ever Need,? ?That?s How Things Get Done,? and, of course, ?Sometime, Driftin? Can Be So Stunnin?, But the Current Can Also Be A-Cunnin?.? And, oh yeah, the Voices of Praise Gospel Choir on the whole entire thing, and you know exactly how I feel about gospel choirs on rock albums. They give urgency and strength to Gelb’s droll mumblings, and give the album most of its potency.
Atypically re: rock music, the choir isn’t just window dressing, or tacked on at the end of songs for crescendo enhancement. The best thing about this record is that it feels like the songs were crafted specifically for them. They fill different functions throughout: as a soft-focus chorus dropshadow on ?Nail in the Sky,? the chorus itself on ?Love Knows No Borders,? Gelb?s affirming conscience on ?But I Did Not,? glowing revelation on ?The Farm,? and rolling thunder on late highlight ?Howlin? A Gale? (mp3). The song is all nerves and clenched teeth through its first half?Gelb dreading the onset of something overwhelming, like Johnny Cash?s ?Three Feet High and Rising??and then it hits like a swirling motherfucker of a duststorm when the choir comes in on the second chorus. They erupt into the song, sending it skyward, and every other instrument joins in the fray and returns fire. It?s the most predictable use of a choir, for purely affective reasons, and as a release after a prolonged buildup, but Gelb has clearly earned the right by this point in the album.
13. Asobi Seksu Citrus (Friendly Fire)
Citrus had the same effect on me, and ingratiated itself to me, the same way that the movie Amelie did. I sought both of them out because I had a feeling they?d be something I’d like, and then they both floored me with an overwhelming combination of ambition, cuteness, sweetness, and weirdness that was impossible to resist. I don?t know what to call Asobi Seksu, and it makes them hard to talk about to people who ask me what I?m listening to now, as if that?s a fucking fair question at all. People have been calling them a shoegazer band, and then other people, who want to be contrarians and make things complicated, go ?no, they?re not a shoegazer band.? Well, Asobi Seksu is gauzy. It?s got the gauze. It?s ?gauze-rock,? bros. But it doesn?t start out that way. The beginning of ?Strawberries? is a ringing, sharp guitar that sounds like Tom Verlaine playing a banjo, recorded by Nigel Godrich. Then the Hal Blaine drums come in and fill every other space, and an organ is back there somewhere, too. Then Yuki starts singing, creating one of the most amazing sounds I heard all year (and that list includes my niece laughing and my dog making this half-howl-dog-talk noise, so that?s saying something.), a crystalline texture more than a voice, really. She moves from her regular voice into the falsetto toward the first bridge, and then the gauze kicks in. The song is sort of a mess?it sounds like ideas for three songs were stitched together?but it doesn?t matter, because of that voice. I have no idea what she?s saying, and it doesn?t make a bit of difference, just like on Heaven or Las Vegas. And while Citrus is as gossamer, in parts, as the Cocteau Twins, it?s also about twice as fast and ten times as hard, letting more of the Blaine/Spector wallpaper show through as the My Bloody Valentine/Blonde Redhead wallpaper peels away from the wall that is Asobi Seksu (italics indicate improperly extended metaphor). “Thursday” (mp3) is the best song on the record, though, and one of the best of the year. After the extended, gradually rising first verse, the song takes flight, solely because Yuki goes into that falsetto again, and sings a melody that is essentially a much faster version of the verse’s. And then everything gets all gauzy again.
12. Stereolab Fab Four Suture (Too Pure)
It?s clear that Stereolab has never made a bad record, just those that don?t live up to the constantly shifting center of what Stereolab is supposed to be. Analog revivalists? French-pop standard-bearers? Bleepy/bloopy electro-cutes? Lounge-jazz geeks? Pop-Situationists? A lab where stereos are mixed into new, previously unthought-of forms? Every new Stereolab album comes prepackaged with critical eyebrow raising, as people rush to accuse them of not making another ?John Cage Bubblegum? or ?Cybele?s Reverie,? or that song from that VW ad or whatever. Stereolab?s become more than a band, they?re a mobile signifier, applicable to constantly shifting hipster reference-points. And it?s not like Fab Four Suture is going to stop any of this, either. It?s a pasted-together collection of singles, and purists aren?t going to get on board with it because it?s not a Full Cohesive Work Of Art. This sort of crappy reasoning never makes sense to me, but whatever?Fab Four Suture is a remarkably consistent and homogenous highlight-reel of where Stereolab is right now, post-trauma.
?Interlock? is a fucking jam?a two-part, slinky dichotomy that starts with the closest Stereolab gets to slick, genre-humping soundtrack music and finishes with boopy, multi-layered French Disko?? that only Stereolab has, and should, ever attempt ever. It?s also littered with hippy-Socialist idealism, which only adds friction, but you know, cute intellectual friction. Shit, if you?re listening to Stereolab, or pop music in general, for nuanced, progressive political statements, you?re in the wrong place. Musically, though, the band continues its impeccable use of muted, farting trumpets as textural devices; they?re omnipresent here, consistently bopping on top of multiply-layered synth beds like a bouncing dot telling you song lyrics. ?Plastic Mile? is gorgeous, starting out tense for its first 50 seconds, before giving way to an extended, bucolic section, where a multi-tracked Laetitia Sadier coos over a bed of trumpet and farfisa. ?Get a Shot of the Refrigerator,? the next song, is restrained go-go, and ?Excursions Into Oh, A-Oh? makes me think of a video treatment involving dozens of old-school typists (beehives and knee-length skirts, legs crossed) tapping away on a dancefloor, surrounded by milling intellectuals and the occasional oblivious dancer. ?I Was a Sunny Rainphase? is a late-record highlight; a burbling, dynamic indie pop gem that waves from the shore.
11. The Roots Game Theory (Def Jam)
First, yes I do like Game Theory more than Hell Hath No Fury, and I realize I?ll never write for XXL now. This isn?t the place to unfairly compare one album with another, though, right? Here?s what I wrote earlier this year:
I had a running joke recently with a few friends regarding The Roots? current album-naming strategy, speculating as to which popular social theory would be their next album title, following The Tipping Point and the current Game Theory. Freakonomics? Blink? The Long Tail? We came to the conclusion that most pop-social theories would probably make good album titles for The Roots, but that an intellectual relationship with Malcolm Gladwell wasn?t necessarily a good thing for the band (we didn’t speculate as to Gladwell). That sort of stuff is fun to read on planes, but when it seeps into rap lyrics, yeah, well you know. So after the shapeless and the pointless (ha) Phrenology and Tipping Point, it seemed that the direction the Roots were destined to go, instead of the timelessly dark-yet-celebratory potency of the amazing Illadelph Halflife and Things Fall Apart, was going to be marked by pseudo-intellectual philosophizing and flat, aimless jamming and Cody Chestnutt. But while the sub-Blackalicious-ish slam sloganeering on Theory opener ?False Media? (that actually rhymes ?Littleton? with ?Ritalin,?) is a clear and unfortunate stylistic leftover, the next seven songs after it show clear as crystal that the group in fact does remember what it really should be doing with its life. They?re tight and sharp again, with a pulse that?s more lively than ever because they?re trying to make rap beats now instead of auditioning as the next house band for Gamble and Huff or whatever.
This record has only grown on me since September when I wrote that?not so much for Black Thought?s lyrical skill, which is still lacking, but the way his timbre and word choices meld with the music so seamlessly. I know the Roots are supposed to be encouraging listeners to engage with their ideology, but Game Theory made me do the opposite. I mean, Black Thought is never going to be ?hard,? but he can sure sound like it. Especially over the best Roots tracks in like seven years. Right after I wrote about “In the Music,” my favorite shifted to the irresistible “Don’t Feel Right,” which featured maybe the most killer guest-female-sung chorus of any song this year. After that, the intense, revved-up “Here I Come,” then the title track?complete with the long prelude and sweet-ass “Charlie Mack” reference. Then, to the chilled, slick “Long Time,” and finally to “Baby” (mp3) This last song is, from start to finish, the sort of nostalgia and retro-formalism that the Roots have always done better than anyone else. There’s an obvious desire present to mine old blues affect and turn it into something futuristic, but it?s the onomatopoeic rhythm of “Chain Gang” that provides the song’s basic rhythm pattern, and its heart. Please (please please) Roots, keep making albums like this one please. Love, your fan, Eric.
10. OOIOO Taiga (Thrill Jockey)
This is marathonpacks? token ?world music? record on this list, right? This year?s Amadou and Mariam? Sure, why not? I have no idea what OOIOO is attempting here?song cycle? Operetta? Operetta as song-cycle? ethnomusicological survey of global musics??who knows? Ex-Boredom Yoshimi P-We is the mastermind behind this project, but OOIOO moves far beyond her work with that band, aiming, and largely hitting, a mark equally as intellectually stimulating and occasionally alienating as her prior project, but much more organic and colorfully realized. There?s a lot to wade through here, which probably alienated a lot of listeners, but I got a great hand a couple months ago, thanks to a smart commenter and the always-amazing WFMU blog. He/she noticed a link between one of my favorite songs this year, the insane, parallel-universe double-dutch anthem ?UMO,? and this song (both re-upped) from a seemingly forgotten Italian rock opera featuring some sort of youth chorus. These sort of connections are the best thing about running a music blog, you know? Learning and shit. But it?s completely possible to enjoy Taiga on a purely visceral level, too, and it works as a great party record (okay, maybe only for grad students, but whatever). ?UMO? is a full-bodied, visceral cover version, but on Taiga, it?s also a reprise of the record?s first song, ?UMA,? a more nuanced take on the same song. They aren?t quite bookends, though, because after ?UMO? is ?IOA,? a sunny, gorgeous Afrobeat pastiche that sounds like a long-lost Malcolm McLaren field recording. But the second track, the 9-minute ?KMS,? perhaps best sums up OOIOO?s approach. It begins as a slow-building, proggy ziggurat of guitar scales and bongo rhythm before lapsing into jazz quartet territory for a minute or two. Yoshimi?s voice soon emerges, along with a four-note guitar phrase, and both lead the way toward an all-out jam, wonderful and nearly disastrous. Taiga is an incredibly ambitious album, and that it succeeds in blending so many of its obvious influences toward an approachable and danceable end is just remarkable.
9. Cansei de Ser Sexy Cansei de Ser Sexy (Brazilian Version) (US Version:Sub Pop)
I can?t lie dudes. I had an instant aversion to CSS? song titles?they seemed to be dropping in the sex/gender curse words as window-dressing to match their name (?I?m Tired of Being Sexy?) and suffered from the dreaded Peaches Effect as a result. Once I, uhhhh I dunno like sat and dug into the record though, I realized that the songs were thoughtful and clear and actually pretty sweet at times. This was a banner year for emotionally savvy and musically talented women to claim some indie-agency for themselves (Karen and Karin are the others), and (ahem) Lovefoxxx, a brattier-and-less-NPR-friendly Sabina Scuibba and brasher Karen O, is right there with them. She’s bold and confrontational and blatantly sexual, but not just in order to make some boring political statement. CSS isn’t punk, and they’re not fucking Peaches, either. They’re more on some Sleater-Kinney/Cibo Matto shit than anything.
The first track (the one with the word ?fuck? in the title) is affirming and well, sorta inspirational?someone may have given you the coldest of shoulders, but you?ve still got a ton going for you?hey, lemme just tell you how much right quick. And after you hear that 5-note descending electro-squawk that comes in after the first verse for the first time, you start hearing it in other songs, because it would work so well in so many different contexts. And ?Let?s Make Love? (mp3) might have the name of the abandoned dance project of a couple of douchebags in its complete title, but it?s the sound of distanced yearning. The woman?s beau is some sort of muckety muck in town for a short time (?Came by plane all alone/Spend the afternoon making a speech?), but in order to get some ?mad love,? he?s gotta play by her rules. It?s a coy hipster power grab and yo?oh that beat is effing fire. Is that Nile Rodgers on guitar? Then there?s the cocky punk banger (?Alala?), the EuroTeen pop jam (?Bezzi?), the pop-punk song with the phone as metaphor for interpersonal communication (?Off the Hook?), and the song that sounds like a Yeah Yeah Yeah?s song but might actually be about a member of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (?Art Bitch??with the opening line of the year: ?My art is called egocentric soft porno//Or maybe it’s just narcissism My one and only subject goes from/something like anything but me-ism?). Starting at this moment, they are this year?s most prominent recipient of gradually increased appreciation.
8. Centro-Matic Fort Recovery (Misra)
The best record that Will Johnson has ever released, under any name, ever in the history of time. Fort Recovery is crunchy, weary, and vulnerable, but never even remotely depressing. Not even close, really, thanks to Johnson?s minor wonder of a voice, an instrument capable of transmitting exhaustion and undying hope in equal measures, and often simultaneously. The best song on this record, and maybe my favorite Centro-Matic song, is ?Calling Thermatico? (mp3), a s??ance for a mysterious legend of dubious ethical makeup. I think. He might be an old-timey railroad baron, or some sort of chemical alchemist. But Johnson eulogizes him over guitars that are scorching, just fucking overdriven and growling, and it doesn?t matter that he?s speaking in abstract, technical-sounding phrases like ?he may have options/within the sequence/to which we abide.? Whoever Thermatico is, he?s being channeled for inspiration, and inspiration comes when Johnson realizes he?s never really left, which might be good or bad. Which means that Johnson?s chilling, sustained howl at the song?s close might be one of relief, or an ominous baying for future events. I could be way off here (I am quite often when I try to interpret lyrics), but I?m pretty sure that Johnson dedicated ?Patience for the Ride? to fellow Texans and Certified Evil Mother Fuckers?? Ken Lay and Jeff Skilling. Evidence: ?You lied to the lonely hearts on your desperate fall. And false was your figure from within, and gone are your golden ones to their desolate pens. We?re gathering the witness for the stand; battening the hatches, yeah and we hope you brought your patience for the ride.?
7. Birdman & Lil’ Wayne Like Father Like Son (Cash Money)
Okay, okay, forget the unintentionally hilarious cover photo for a minute, which, when paired with an unfortunate candid picture, played into rap fans? and critics’ apparently inherent tendency toward humor-tinged homophobia (at the worst, there are worse fates than being rap’s Omar Little, right?). Try to think, instead, of a rap album more consistently fulfilling and solid from beginning to end, and with stronger lyrics and delivery, than Like Father, Like Son. I?ll give you a hint. There?s exactly one, and it?s number one on my list (no peeking). Lil? Wayne probably isn?t the best rapper alive today, and I don?t know how that sort of thing is quantified anyway, but for me, this record cements his standing as one of the most imaginative lyricists and impeccable phrasers in rap today. That these rhymes come over brilliantly cinematic synthesized backdrops fit for T.I., though, solidifies LFLS as the second-best rap record of the year. The highlight, and one of the best songs released this year, is ?Stuntin? Like My Daddy? (mp3) which has a killer bridge and gaudy, royal chorus, sure. But my favorite part comes at the very end, during Weezy?s last verse. He challenges: ?show me my opponent,? then pauses, wads up a piece of paper and puts it in his mouth, and restates the line, which now sounds more like ?shjummamahuhponnun.? It?s cocky, but it?s also funny and smart-assed, and that?s what I like so much about Wayne. He takes to calling someone a coward by referring to them as ?yellow, like Sesame Street Bert faces,? and goes into some detail on ?You Ain?t Know? about his favored footwear: ?And understand the rap game is my court/So I shall walk and come forth like a Rockport/Or some sort of…matchin’ slippers or yacht shoes/See I don’t cruise control I control the cruise.? He connects metaphors of basketball to boating through fucking shoes. C?mon now. I wrote about how much I like ?1st Key? here, and I?ll take this opportunity to go on about a few other songs: the regal synthesized horn charts and T-Pain-sung chorus (?take a picture: click click?) of ?Know What I?m Doin?,? and the Requisite Slow Jam, ?Don?t Die.? Its chorus is a funny, yet specious claim: ?Gangsta?s don?t die, they get chubby and move to Miami,? but it also contains the record?s only mention of the hurricane that totaled the city a year ago: ?and don?t think about the past; a little water came, now we floatin? on e?erything.? It?s a casual dismissal of the nation?s worst-ever natural disaster, and it?s also a slightly unnerving and distinctly Southern testimony to the superceding need to get shit accomplished.
6. Yeah Yeah Yeahs Show Your Bones (Interscope)
Of course the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were going to suffer from the ?you didn?t make an album that sounded like your first one, and the first one was really good? complaint. Yeah, well, Show Your Bones is much better than (the still good) Fever to Tell. Bones is relaxed, mature, and caring where its predecessor was brash, bratty and knotty. It?s also infinitely more melodic, and much more complex, emotionally and musically. There is rarely any sort of structural concert between drums, guitar(s) and vocals, done to greatest effect on ?Way Out,? where Zinner and Chase weave around and through each other like a defensive-driving course, and Karen O. stands in the middle, implacable and defiant, cawing to an invisible lover that his ?face ain?t making what the mouth needs.? The second verse is the monster, though, and maybe the greatest moment on the record. She plays call-and response with herself, and the pace gets more and more frantic as she keeps repeating, and only repeats, the phrase, ?It?s around me so tight, uh-oh.? It?s as claustrophobic and terse a moment as I heard on a record this year. Her varied sources for musical inspiration throughout the record are its central talking point, though. A few songs (?Fancy? and ?Mysteries?) are raving leftovers from Fever, and ?Phenomena? is interpolated Bronx hip-hop, but ?Dudley? and the vaguely Sendakian ?Gold Lion? seem to plumb children?s literature as a primary source. The romantic resignation of ?Dudley? is especially affecting, sung to a lullaby melody and flecked with Zinner?s chiming guitar tone. In terms of scope and range, Show Your Bones seems like a transitional record?the band?s trying to see what fits, what could lead toward something new on the third record?but it?s also tight and restrained enough to know its limits. It?s soft and cutting, familiar and unpredictable, and just completely solid from start to finish.
5. Danielson Ships (Secretly Canadian)
There’s a really great scene in the surprisingly also great Danielson documentary that came out this year, when Daniel Smith and his wife sit down in the living room for a quiet evening with a film, and throw on the Maysles’ Brothers’ Salesman. It’s probably one of the single saddest films I’ve ever seen, but also one of the most poignant. For Smith, though, it’s fodder for a cute art project—you see, for Smith, Salesmen are bland, quintessentially American, archetypical Christian commercialists of the highest order, too. But not in a bad way, necessarily. Smith is no simpleton (he just plays one on record); he knows he’s been selling his own version of Christianity—an infinitely entertaining and often-great version—for a long time now, and he’s not above finding new arty ways to poke fun at it.
But Ships is different from the homemade swag Smith shills in the documentary—I’ll probably get thrown in Danielson Fan Jail for this, but Ships is his best album yet. It’s also his most highly produced, and the one most in line with the indie rock zeitgeist that surrounds it, typically the moment when fans of any consistently prolific outsider artist call bullshit. But it’s got the best songs you see. The best of the best are the single and fun political parable “Did I Step On Your Trumpet” (mp3) and the folk/swing/sing-along (with clarinet) “Cast it at the Setting Sail,” both of which have perfectly executed verse-chorus transitions that turn them into unlikely anthems. The thing that sucked about Illinoise (besides the fact that its popularity earned its creator an extended montage in the above-mentioned documentary) was that, for all of his innocent, construction paper pretensions, I still got the feeling that Sufjan just wants to fuck my girlfriend, and it’s that sort of faux-coy boyishness that turns me off of Will Sheff and Conor Oberst, too. Smith taught Stevens everything he knows about presentation, and he does it with more verve and authenticity, too.
4. The Knife Silent Shout (Mute)
The Knife creates so much distance, emotionally, artistically, and intellectually, between themselves and those who listen to their music. It’s turned a lot of people off to the group, sure, but those who stick around and pick and parse and examine what’s in front of them are rewarded immensely (I wrote a lot more about them here). Although the music is presented with a crisp, frosty stare, the breadth of emotion right below the surface is just stunning. The best song on SIlent Shout, though, is the holy-shit-banger-of-all-bangers: “We Share Our Mother’s Health” (mp3) the best song of this year, and one of the top five of this decade so far. It?s the “Immigrant Song” for the Pitchfork Generation—an origin tale of the highest dramatic and visceral potency. Where Zeppelin cranked a swashbuckling conquest fable though, the Knife is sick and desperate for food and rest. And frightened of its fate. Karin sings: “you know what I fear/the end is always near.”
And Silent Shout is, at its core, about the body. Thematically, it’s the most thorough and stunning examination of human corporeal fragility since Radiohead’s The Bends; best expressed in “From Off to On”: “we want control of our bodies.” Elsewhere, a woman reluctantly gyrates for pay in “Neverland,” and “One Hit” has the frightening sequence: “Sons and daughters you will breed/As long as you breastfeed/Yeah being a man is bliss/One hit one kiss.” The opener “Silent Shout,” however, has the most affecting subject of all—frozen emotions. It’s heartbreaking to hear Karin sing, “Wish I could speak in just one sweep/What you are and what you mean to me.” I’ve never heard anything like it; the icy sound of stifled love portrayed as overwhelming dread, the sort that makes you dream your teeth are falling out. Seriously guys, this song is just stunning, and the spiraling, overlapping whirls of electronic steel drums behind the lyrics only magnifies, to eerie effect, its potency of feeling. The only reason Silent Shout wasn’t ranked higher is because it came out in a year when two of my all-time favorite musicians released amazing records and a third, whom I merely just liked before, released the best record of his career.
3. Destroyer Destroyer’s Rubies (Merge)
There probably hasn?t been a more lyrically pored-over artist since Dylan. I mean shit; Dan Bejar has an entire wiki site devoted to his insular, self-and-elsewhere-references, and a drinking game to boot. Destroyer?s Rubies is many things, not least of which being Bejar?s greatest record to date, surpassing Streethawk: A Seduction by a hell of a lot after its fourth or fifth pass through my speakers and headphones. It is also a sampler of sorts of some of the most revered Canadian singer/songwriters of the rock era: Neil Young (?Sick Priest Learns to Last Forever?), The Band (?Your Blood?), Leonard Cohen (the lyrics, not the delivery, of ?Painter in Your Pocket?), Dan Bejar (?Painter in Your Pocket?). The opener is a stunner?an alternately seismic and pensive statement of purpose that sets the scene for my favorite narrative undercurrent of the record: Bejar?s positioning of the ?precious American underground,? which is ?born of wealth, with not a writer in the lot.? There are so many threads to pull from this album, and many others have done it much better that I could hope to here, but Bejar?s understanding of the Indie Rock Elitist Class is something that goes all-too-often ignored in public discourses. The term ?independent? is rife with contradictions and laden with falsely assumed cultural capital?independent from what? It?s just a word, sure, but it has bled into the reception of an oddly (and malleably) selected slice of rock music over the past 25 years, to detrimental effect. And Bejar kicks its teeth in on Rubies?sort of a Magnificent Ambersons or Le Regle du Jeu of pseudo-intellectual indie posturing, while at the same time performing music that would easily fit into its restrictive canon. So, yeah. Also, ?3000 Flowers? is amazing on headphones.
2. Belle & Sebastian The Life Pursuit (Matador)
Okay, this is rather easy to me, but it still, understandably I guess, has caused me many arguments over the past six months. The Life Pursuit is, by a significant margin, the best record that Belle and Sebastian have yet released. Come on, stop rolling your eyes and being a dick, and let me explain myself. Prior to this record, Belle and Sebastian?s best record was 1998?s If You?re Feeling Sinister, a front-to-back-triumph of fey anti-dynamism, skillful wordplay, and melodies you could build a life around. But, as the group went on, starting with the dud-ass follow-up The Boy With the Arab Strap, it became evident that Stuart Murdoch, Stevie Jackson, &c were looking to transcend the narrow constraints of twee-folk, and become the perfect pop band. Well, the only good song on Arab Strap was its title track, an effervescent Motown-crib that still stands as one of their best songs. But on their next two records and often great interstitial EPs, they flirted with brilliance more than a few times (Fold Your Hands? ?Women?s Realm? and ?I Fought in A War,? Dear Catastrophe Waitress? title track and ?Piazza, New York Catcher,? and ?Dog on Wheels,? the re-recorded ?The State I?m In,? and even ?Jonathan David? from the EPs. It was on the, well, sorta catastrophic Catastrophe that the band got in over their heads finally, handing over the reins to the traditionally unrestrained Trevor Horn, and getting a whole lot of cheekiness in return. Anyone who has seen their Fans Only DVD, with the most insider/friends-having-fun aesthetic outside of Slow Century, knows that the band can balance levity with sincerity and sharp wit when they want to, and they?ve finally, wonderfully accomplished that on record.
The Life Pursuit is an apt name for a record that stands as the realization of an aesthetic promise consistently hinted at, but never fully achieved. The opening song, ?Act of the Apostle,? shows the band?s newfound gift for balance: a rubbery major-keyed piano opens the song, but only as a point of entry; it soon gives way to a hazy, nearly bossa shuffle under Murdoch?s perfect tenor?the British indie Art Garfunkel, and that?s a really great thing in terms of timbre. The chorus is similarly restrained; it?s a perfectly managed switch from the verse, a chugging organ is the only nod to happiness, and even it comes out through a fog. The surrounding vocals that emerge?the Murdoch Tabernacle Choir?are the elevating force. Next, on ?Another Sunny Day,” the 12 string comes out, and the band does its best impression of American country rock?a Scottish, twee Chris Hillman. ?White Collar Boy? and ?The Blues are Still Blue? are a great 3-4 punch, and the record?s trajectory is in full throttle, or something. But the latter is the clear winner?a mind-meld of T. Rex swagger, Ric Ocasek synth-cool, and, well, the uniquely Murdochian melodic sensibility that allows a line like ?I?m a singer, a swinger I?m a layabout but laying on the??? to quickly rise, like off the top of a ramp, and then gracefully fall back to earth with the phrase completion ?The dock in the lazy sun, will never quite relegate me to a bum.? Seriously, get the record, and read the liner notes. It?s even broken up when written like it comes across sung.
?Dress Up In You? is comparatively slight, but an oasis of calm after the first four songs. It leads to another song that they would have no doubt screwed up on Catastrophe, first single ?Sukie in the Graveyard.? Here, though, the dynamic shifts are tempered with prolonged organ notes (fun fact: the organ is one of the best things on this record) and Murdoch?s uninterrupted stream of words. Jackson wails for a minute on a guitar solo, and so forth. It segues perfectly into the album?s sole lark?which is nevertheless irresistible. ?We Are the Sleepyheads? is a shout back in time to the Legal Man EP, with the jittery title track and its similarly sunny B-side ?Judy is a Dick Slap.? I?m going to defer to Matthew for comment on his personal favorite ?Song for Sunshine,? because he nails it. I?d like to wail for a moment, though, on the band?s most perfect pop song to date, the completely irresistible ?Funny Little Frog.? It?s the closest thing the band could have to a radio hit, down to the O. Henry-gotcha-ending, and narrative of passion for a 2-dimensional representation of a woman (see also: ?Pictures of Lily,? ?She?s A Beauty,? ?Centerfold?). It?s got the album?s most unstoppable bassline, an elegant piano arrangement that still swings like crazy, and a chorus that I managed to lose my voice yelling at my steering wheel on numerous occasions, slapping my dashboard to match the 1-2-3 ?wrapped in pearls? and ?life a-gain? parts. Jackson?s great song ?To Be Myself Completely? is the perfect follow-up, and then the reprised ?Apostle? and the album flits away after that, the band?s first complete success since Sinister, and their most fully realized effort to date. By a significant margin.
1. Ghostface Killah Fishscale (Interscope)
Ghostface is the most charismatic, intelligent, and prolific American pop star currently making music. He?s also an encyclopedia of contradictions: he?s menacing and completely loveable; a catchphrase-shouting party rapper/premier hip-hop ethnographer/sensitive soul singer; a proud father/gleeful sex fiend/unrepentant cocaine dealer. In other words, he?s never going to be as famous as he really should be. But the scope of his personality?the intricacy of his observations, and his limitless charm and sensitivity, his site-specific and narrowly motivated violent outbursts?is, regardless of restraints, that of a superstar. He?s proving that hip-hop can not only age gracefully without getting lame, but keep getting continuously better. Jay-Z is his nearest competitor, and while Kingdom Come isn?t as totally shitty as a lot of people have made it out to be, it?s still the far inferior product compared to Fishscale.
Fishscale is even for me right now with Supreme Clientele, but I imagine it will surpass its predecessor eventually. This year alone, it?s steadily and gradually shown me new things on each listen; subtle nuances and turns-of-phrase that kept moving it northward re: my appreciation. I liked it immediately?because everyone likes every Ghostface album immediately, that?s why?but it wasn?t until I was driving home from Chicago after Thanksgiving that it really hit me. There?s just not a dull second on Fishscale; not even the alternating Mickey Goldmill/authoritative comic book narrator interstitials got on my nerves. The songs themselves perfectly represent Ghost?s musical strengths?the breathlessly detailed, stream-of-consciousness recollections; the fire-spitting club bangers; and the emotional, sometimes tender, R&B joints are all present. The bangers are in full force: ?Kilo? is a Schoolhouse Rock introduction to drug math, and I?m also proud to know what ?you?ll never see the kid going hand-to-hand? means, thanks to The Wire. ?9 Milli Bros.? is the latest insane Wu posse track, and ?Be Easy,? with Trife from the Theodore crew, is the cousin to The W?s unstoppable ?Thang Thang.? The sensitive soul songs are strong as well, and they predictably drew the most critical and popular notice. ?Whip You With A Strap? because of its completely irregular subject matter, and ?Back Like That? because it was the solid R&B single of the album, taking inspiration from both Willie Hutch and Jigga (?Song Cry?) in the process.
What separates Ghostface from his peers, though, is his ability to describe in intricate detail, within a single song, events that take place over a matter of minutes; then patching them together to create not so much a story as a slide presentation. ?Shakey Dog? is the exemplar on Fishscale. It opens with Ghost in a cab, shuttling between locations. He devotes his first nine bars or so to a sensory explanation of his surroundings: ?Yo, making moves back and forth uptown/60 dollars plus toll is the cab fee/Wintertime bubble goose, goose, clouds of smoke/Music blastin’ and the Arab V blunted/Whip smelling like fish from 125th/Throwin’ ketchup on my fries, hitting baseball spliffs/Back seat with my leg all stiff/Push the fuckin’ seat up, tartar sauce on my S Dot kicks/Rocks is lit while I’m poppin’ the clips.? Later, he?s on the run, but makes a point to note ?that lady with the shopping cart,? because ?She keep a shottie cocked in the hallway.? But wait, there?s backstory: ?Damn she look pretty old Ghost, she work for Kevin, she ?bout seventy seven. She paid her dues when she smoked his brother in law at his bosses’ wedding.? And it goes on. I highly recommend you grab the song (mp3), go over to the lyrics, and play along at home. It?s rap?s ?Run Lola Run??a stylized narrative (the horns are part superhero, part Edwin Starr) with a furious path and clear goal, but also one that diverts frequently and quickly into the lives of passersby. It?s polysemic, intelligent, and a stunning display of condensed storytelling. Okay, now that I?ve typed all of this, I?ll go ahead and slide Fishscale ahead of Clientele. Thanks for reading this far, to get to that conclusion.
Right-wing media figures claim Clinton behind Obama/Muslim smears
On the January 19 editions of their radio programs, conservative talk show hosts Melanie Morgan, Lee Rodgers and Rush Limbaugh, as well as Fox News’ John Gibson on the same day’s edition of The Big Story, forwarded the accusation, originally published on the website InsightMag.com, that Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton (D-NY) was responsible for spreading information about Sen. Barack Obama (D-IL) — specifically, that Obama “spent at least four years in a so-called Madrassa or Muslim seminary, in Indonesia.” The article, bearing the headline “Hillary’s team has questions about Obama’s Muslim background,” asserted that “researchers connected to Senator Clinton” disclosed the “details of Mr. Obama’s Muslim past.” Despite acknowledging near the end of his show that it “[d]oesn’t seem” that “Hillary’s fingerprints [are] on the story,” Gibson said earlier in that program that “[t]he New York senator has reportedly outed Obama’s madrassa past.”
None of the four radio or television hosts cited any evidence that Clinton was responsible for promoting the madrassa story, beyond the InsightMag.com article, which cited no one by name. On December 13, Jason Zengerle, editor of The Plank, the weblog of The New Republic, predicted that Republicans would “launch a savage and despicable whispering campaign against the guy (Barack Hussein Obama, etc.) and then blame it all on Hillary.” Zengerle responded to the InsightMag.com article on January 18:
The attribution on all this is broad enough (”political opponents within the Democratic Party”; “researchers connected to Senator Clinton”) that I suppose this information about Obama could have originated with people in Clinton’s orbit. But let’s not forget where this information appeared. And let’s be on the lookout for who goes on the cable shows and wonders whether “Barack Hussein Obama” is “The <strike>Manchurian</strike> Madrassa Candidate.” Something tells me it isn’t going to be Hillary, or any liberal for that matter.
InsightMag.com is the successor to Insight on the News, a biweekly magazine published until April 2004 by News World Communications, the company controlled by Rev. Sun Myung Moon that also operates The Washington Times and the wire service United Press International. The website describes itself as a “weekly Internet news magazine.”
The InsightMag.com article claimed that “sources close” to a “background check” supposedly “conducted by researchers connected to Senator Clinton” said that “[t]he idea is to show Obama as deceptive” and speculated that the “predominantly” Muslim school that Obama has admitted he once attended might have taught “a Wahhabi doctrine that denies the rights of non-Muslims”:
In two best-selling autobiographies — “The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream” and “Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance” — Mr. Obama, born in Honolulu where his parents met, mentions but does not expand on his Muslim background, alluding only to his attendance at a “predominantly Muslim school.”
[…]
The sources said the background check concerned Mr. Obama’s years in Jakarta. In Indonesia, the young Obama was enrolled in a Madrassa and was raised and educated as a Muslim. Although Indonesia is regarded as a moderate Muslim state, the U.S. intelligence community has determined that today most of these schools are financed by the Saudi Arabian government and they teach a Wahhabi doctrine that denies the rights of non-Muslims.
Approximately 3 weeks ago, Jonathan introduced me to 
Digital, although there are 2-3 film prints up at flickr, mostly holga stuff.
