Benjamin Booker’s Fiery Debut LP

For teenagers in the 1950’s the guitar solos of Chuck Berry were the gateway that ushered many into the early and evolving genre known as rock and roll.  The musical occupants of said genre have twisted and turned throughout the years (isn’t that an understatement…) but the roots generally all go back to a common origin: the blues.

Funny, the same paragraph could be used to describe 25 year old musician Benjamin Booker.  Born in Virginia, he got his first guitar when he turned 14 and took cues from fire and brimstone laced bluesmen like Blind Willie Johnson and Screaming Jay Hawkins to develop his signature sound.

But as the opening strains of his debut eponymous album reveal, there’s nothing like a good, rollicking solo to get those listeners hooked.  It’s his brand of roughly powerful blues rock which follows that ensures our stay.

“Violent Shiver” is that opening track and it is a freight train flying through the station.  Booker jumps from his opening solo (one of the few of the album) straight into a pulsating romp of a verse.  The backbone of “Violent Shiver” is the relentless beats pounded by drummer Max Norton, but the first reveal of Booker’s gravelly growl steals the show.

Easily the most emotive aspect of the album, Booker’s sandpaper surfaced delivery can be bold (“Always Waiting”), desperate (“Old Hearts”), quietly sincere (“Spoon Out My Eyeballs”), and heart-achingly vulnerable (“I Thought I Heard You Screaming”).

The last two of those showcase a very fascinating side of Booker.  The latter (“I Thought..”) finds Booker describing a harrowing moment whilst living with a drug addict.  Subject matter aside, what really sells the song is Booker’s pained, hushed voice practically whispering the lyrics over the record’s most sparse musical arrangement.

Meanwhile, in “Spoon Out My Eyeballs” he sings an ode to the music he loves, not the bullshit “songs produced by 40-year-olds in high-tech studios” as he puts it during the subdued lead verse.  Soon the song opens up into a foot-stomping barnburner and Booker carries us away.

About early music loves Booker muses, “It was easy to believe in something when I didn’t know a goddamn thing”, and that soul by means of blind faith is apparent in nearly every crevasse of his debut.  Especially in mid-album centerpiece, “Have You Seen My Soon”.

This five minute jam is where Booker is best able to combine his vocal delivery, lyricism, and rough n ready guitar playing into a single cohesive unit.  With lyrics inspired by his Christian parents, Booker gives this personal track intense life with his trademark gruff pleas and then sets it all over the top with some of the best fuzzed out riffs on the record.

As much as I love his vocals, that dirty, fuzzy guitar is the glue that holds everything together.  It creeps in and out of tracks and provides a bouncing, rhythmical energy throughout nearly every song.

Look to how in songs like “Chippewa” it takes a backseat nearly the entire time before crescendoing into a quick, biting solo and then slinking back down to the barely perceptible reaches of rhythm.

“Always Waiting” follows a similar pattern.  Booker and drummer Norton fix us up a little Bo Diddley shuffle before exploding into the chorus while Booker’s guitar phases in and out of a distorted crackle.  Booker’s guitar prowess is notable in its restraint.  Not always one for the big solos, Booker is often happy to add it to the rhythm machine and let his vocals take spotlight.

It’s that kind of taste which makes faults in Booker’s debut hard to find.  He’s never a ham during songs, and his music never lacks for punch.  One thing which sets in after repeated listening is a general lack in stylistic variation.  By the end of the record I start to miss a little bit of melody to mix up this collection of rough and tumble rock songs.  For instance both “Kids Never Growing Older” and “By the Evening” are good stand alones but feel a little tired in the album rotation.

That may seem nitpicky, but it’s not like he has Interpolian sameness disease.  It’s only that a little more variety could put him over the top.  Just look to his live show as evidence to that.  Booker was recently tapped to open a string of shows for the 21^st century legend himself, Jack White.  After that run he played an early Saturday set at Chicago’s Lollapalooza.

My personal intersection with Ben Booker happened at that Lolla show this past August.  After blowing through three cigarettes during soundcheck, Booker took the stage in the stifling heat and brought the house down.

Technical issues with both his guitars proved to be the only stumbling blocks and half of those problems were swiftly eliminated at the set’s conclusion.  Raising his white ax high above his shoulders, Booker brought it down London Calling style as pieces scattered into the dense afternoon crowd (I was lucky enough to get a piece *squeal*).

Perhaps most interestingly, his debut album was not yet out at the time of this show.  Thus, Booker kept the crowd on their toes despite technical malfunctions and only having released two singles.  Chalk that up not only to Booker’s tremendous stage presence but to the ear catching quality of his self-titled record.

That record happens to be one of the best pure rock records in years and one of 2014’s most exciting debuts.

Key Tracks: “Violent Shiver” ; “Have You Seen My Son” ; “I Thought I Heard You Screaming”

Overall Rating: 8.2/10

Cymbals Eat Guitars’ Lose Wins a New Fan

I intend to write this blog with the fullest of full disclosure.  I won’t pretend to always be some kind of expert.  I won’t write under the guise of omniscience.  Why?  Partly because I don’t want to sound like an asshole.  But mostly because I think lack of knowledge can be one of the most beautiful things about music.

For instance, until last week I had never heard of Cymbals Eat Guitars.  I didn’t know their name was based off a Lou Reed quote (always worth points in my book).  Nor had I listened to their first two records (including the fantastic track “…And the Hazy Sea”) or knew their new album was due out this week.

On Monday August 18, 2014 I knew none of these things.  Now, thanks to the (in this case highly) emotive power of music, I know all of them plus one more.  Cymbals Eat Guitars’ new album, Lose, is phenomenal.

And all of that…is beautiful.

Cymbals Eat Guitar are a Staten Island via New Jersey band led by singer/guitarist Joey D’Agostino.  Their work tends to be fairly maximalist and messy in nature, and Lose is no exception to those descriptors.

The album’s third track is certainly emblematic of the latter adjective.  With wailing a harmonica raising above the foot-stomping guitar/drum accompaniment, “XR” initially harkens back to the classic 70’s songs of Neil Young or perhaps fellow Jersey-ite Springsteen.

But if the Springsteen comps feel uninspired from a Jersey band, the song’s left turn into a Japandroids/The Men style romp will be sure to please.

As for the maximalist staple of this record, look no further than the album’s centerpiece and longest song, “Laramie”.  Essentially split in three parts, “Laramie” begins with a down tempo verse and a slow burning guitar solo before ultimately giving way to a faster, dirtier, more urgent middle section.

However, the song’s great climax arrives in the final two minutes.  Screeching psychedelic guitars build upon layers of feedback and the persistent bashing of drums.  The band constructs a wall of pulsating yet enthralling noise when suddenly the bottom falls out and the track concludes.  “Laramie” is over eight minutes long and not a single second is wasted.

One elemental anchor of Lose that becomes apparent in songs like “Laramie” (not to mention “Jackson” and “Warning”) is the emotional urgency of the band’s backup vocals.  Never uttering a discernable phrase, the accompanying “ooooohs” tend to give the record a feel of ominous inevitability.  And when D’Agostino’s gloriously snarled cries pierce the din on tracks like “Jackson”, it’s enough to give me chills.

So let’s talk a little bit about “Jackson”.  It kicks the album off and showcases the band at their absolute finest.  Anything one could ask for from Cymbals Eat Guitars is represented somewhere in its 6 minutes and 14 seconds.

Ethereal intro segment?  Check.  Smoky guitar riff?  Check.  Adolescently urgent lyrical feel?  Check.  Brilliantly falsetto chorus?  Check. Check. Check.

But like so many other great Cymbals Eat Guitars songs, “Jackson” truly shines in its final third.  A tidal wave of pounding drums and horns threaten to wash over D’Agostino as he segues into perhaps the record’s most sharp and succinct guitar solo.  Then the real climax starts.  The backup vocals wail in full force as D’Agostino practically screams, “I don’t want to die!”  The rhythm’s wave thereafter breaks the levy, and the song washes away.

So far I’ve only given mention to Lose’s high volume and high energy numbers, but the album’s most emotional moment comes when both those notches are turned down.  I’m talking of course about middle-of-the-tracklist piece “Child Bride”.

Telling the tragic downfall of D’Agostino’s childhood friend, the band cedes its emotional deliverer from music to lyrics.  You can hear the decades-old pain in his voice as he describes his friend’s abusive childhood, sudden move, and their eventual reunion.

However, this blue backdrop doesn’t mean the music is lacking for beauty.  In fact, it’s quite the opposite.  Heartfelt strings, chiming guitars, and moving piano lines soundtrack the piece from start to finish.  It may be used as an accompaniment to D’Agostino’s set of lyrics, but it remains the most conventionally beautiful track on Lose.

As positive as I’ve been about Lose so far doesn’t mean the album is without its faults.  I’ve found it suffers from something I like to call Graceland syndrome, where the record feels emotionally complete before its actual finish.

“Lifenet” and “2 Hip Soul” are fine enough songs by themselves (the latter in particular is a solid stand-alone track), but coming after excellent number “Chambers” they feel almost superfluous.  Much like how I feel Paul Simon’s solo masterpiece truly concludes with “Homeless”, it seems like Lose could be benefitted with a little pruning or reordering.

Ultimately, Lose is a layered, complex album perhaps best peeled apart Shrek style.  But after stripping it raw, one will find the central concept emanating from practically every instrument: urgency.  D’Agostino and the rest of the band constantly feel as if they are rushing to get to some unknown place, or more likely, rushing to get away from some unseen thing.

The process is emotionally arduous, but as Lose proves, the results are often thrilling.

Key Tracks: “Jackson” ;  “Child Bride” ; “Laramie” ;  “Chambers”

Overall Rating: 8.5/10

Welcome to the Whale!

So yeah, hi!  My name is Will Brown and I’m an 18 year old from Canfield, Ohio.  For those of you uninitiated, Canfield is a pleasant (yet remarkably nondescript) suburb of Youngstown.  And for those of you further uninitiated, Youngstown lies about halfway between Cleveland and Pittsburgh.  And for those of you still uninitiated…well, consider yourselves lucky.

This post is meant to serve two purposes.  The first is a roughly relevant biography of myself.  After all, this website is my brain’s forum for music commentary.  So a little background on myself seems necessary.

My introductory lessons into the world of music were kept within the general confines of my parent’s cars.  My mom’s Saab offered a steady stream of the Beach Boys, Simon & Garfunkel, and the local oldies station.  Meanwhile, my Dad’s suburban was locked on a heavy rotation of Aerosmith, Queen, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and (my childhood favorite) John Denver.

I stayed within these basic confines of 60’s and 70’s classic rock / singer-songwriter for the better part of 12 years.  But my sample pool was entirely random.  I listened to seemingly whatever I could get my hands on.  In other words, there was no method to the madness.  Thus, moments like when I found a Jimi Hendrix practically hidden at my Dad’s house remain, well, memorable.

Nevertheless I was still just a kid trying desperately to find the thing in life about which I was most passionate.  For all I know, music may have been a forgettable fad within my consciousness.  Then came the turning point.

Visiting the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as part of a seventh grade field trip, my curiosity was piqued by the Beatles exhibit in the basement.  So with a fresh twenty dollar bill in my pocket, I picked up a copy of their de facto greatest hits album, 1.

This is what I mean by saying there was no method to the madness.  I had been trying to explore the music of the 60’s/70’s and had yet to come across The Beatles!  Well I dug into that album, the rest of their discography, and was soon piecing together music history as best I could from the 60’s up through the 90’s.  I found artists and albums I still consider holy today.  Names like Leonard Cohen, David Bowie, Sam Cooke, the Zombies, the Clash, Buzzcocks, The Band, 80’s U2, and my first smattering of the 90s (Nirvana, Jeff Buckley, Oasis, etc.) come to mind.

But then I hit another roadblock.  Falling victim to the fallacy that no one made ‘good’ music anymore, I had completely and intentionally ignored the last decade.  An issue of Rolling Stone (bought for its John Lennon cover story no less) alluding to a band called Arcade Fire changed all of that.

I got home from the store, found the video for “Wake Up”, and fell in love.  This was somewhere around 3 years ago, and I haven’t stopped chasing that incredible rush received only when finding a song or an album or even a simple verse or riff that you know will stick with you for the rest of your life.

Finding that first rush led me on a path all through the last decade and further searches into those which came before it.  Bands like Vampire Weekend, LCD Soundsystem, Belle & Sebastian, the Flaming Lips, Cut/Copy, and Titus Andronicus along with artists like Sufjan Stevens, Elliott Smith, Beck, and Ben Folds opened my eyes to musical horizons I never thought possible.  And yes, I know that was cheesy as hell, but I don’t care.

So there you have it: my musical biography.  Now I present my mission statement of sorts.  This blog will be space of music review, criticism, and reflection.  I will follow up on my initial writing for the Cardinal high school newspaper and review at least one new album every week.  Songs of the day and longer musings (rambles) will also be posted whenever my fancy is struck.  But more than anything else, I just want a place, other than disjointed text messages to my high school journalism teacher, to express my thoughts about my ever expanding universe.

I promise a review per week.  I promise numerous grammatical errors.  I promise a (hopefully) improving prose style.  And most importantly, I promise to find you new, exciting, fresh, insert your buzzword here, unforgettable music.  Also, I promise never to explain what Brown’s Blue Whale means.

Now, I’m ready to start.