[Alt-Rock]
Radiohead
In Rainbows
****
I grudgingly absorb most of my music via compressed digital files these days, but I still go to great lengths to hear a select batch as nature intended—namely jazz, ambient electronic and Radiohead. So when the latter released seventh album In Rainbows to much fanfare as a choose-your-own-price MP3 download in October, my enthusiasm was tempered by a gnawing suspicion I had yet to experience the full expanse of its magnitude.
Only now, having spun the actual CD—mine arrived recently in the limited-edition discbox I dropped some $80 for; individual physical copies are also now available at stores—do I finally feel fully equipped to evaluate the disc, which, although great in any normal sense of the word, doesn’t quite qualify as great by Radiohead standards. Much the way Amnesiac felt fantastic, but not extraordinary like Kid A, In Rainbows fails to advance the British quintet’s legend beyond the borders of 2003’s Hail to the Thief, which successfully married the arena rock of the band’s mid-to-late ’90s with the electronics of its early 2000s. Rather than push that concept forward—say, the way OK Computer built on The Bends—In Rainbows comes off as a trimmer (10 tracks, down from 14; 42 minutes, down from 56), more straightforward companion to Hail, a relative shame for a project with so much potential.
Yet I’ve awarded it four stars and recently ranked in ninth on my 2007 year-ender, a tribute to a collection of songs that would mark a career apex for almost any other group on Earth. Trademark pulse-quickening moments abound—the back stretch of the swirling “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi,” the head rush of surging first single “Jigsaw Falling Into Place” and the ghostly-even-for-Thom-Yorke vocal of “All I Need”—and a couple of cuts fall short, principally the closing “Videotape,” which never rekindles the slow-intensifying power of last summer’s live version.
Ironically, a bonus disc of eight outtakes (more accurately, six real tracks and two sound snippets) included in the discbox could have fit onto a single CD with In Rainbows, and its best tunes—the atmospheric “Go Slowly,” the art-punky “Bangers + Mash” and anthemic ballad “4 Minutes Warning”—could have helped provide a more complete picture of what Radiohead has been up to the past few years.
Nevertheless, most fans needn’t spring for its steep price tag (sure, the discbox also includes vinyl and some cool packaging and artwork, but the second disc is its main draw). Even if you’ve downloaded In Rainbows, for whatever price or lack thereof, however, the recommendation here is to fork over again for the CD, because Radiohead should never be truncated, abbreviated or, especially, compressed.
–Spencer Patterson
[R&B]
Mary J. Blige
Growing Pains
****
“Work in Progress,” song No. 12 on Mary J. Blige’s 16-offering Growing Pains, more describes MJB the person—a girl from Yonkers who, as a woman, still doesn’t seem fully comfortable in her skin, much less her fame—than MJB the hip-hop soul queen, whose career is far beyond the construction stage. Throughout her 15 years in the business, Blige has used pain as a muse, songs from “Changes I’ve Been Going Through” on 1992’s What’s the 411? to “Hurt Again” on Growing Pains serving as confessionals. Just when she seemed ready to shake her doldrums—2005’s The Breakthrough was jazzy, hip-hopping and inspiring—Blige’s tormented soul has returned.
And that’s a good thing—for listeners. In place of the wailing that marked earlier work, Blige now imbues her songs with understated longing, as on “Roses,” in which she encourages her man to love her in spite of her foibles, or on “Fade Away,” in which she recounts her trials and tribulations and says, simply, “invisibility would be great.” Contrary to pundits who say her voice has to be nursed by the beats—because of the army of producers who’ve contributed to recent full-lengths—her throaty, Yonkers patois remains a force all its own, able to sound confident (“Feel Like a Woman”), edgy (the sung-rapped “Grown Woman”) and vulnerable (“If You Love Me?”). Blige herself may be a work in progress. But her legacy sure isn’t.
–Damon Hodge
[Indie Pop]
Sia
Some People Have Real Problems
** 1/2
Sia Furler specializes in making the ethereal transcendent. As a guest vocalist with martini-bar-electronica crafters Zero 7, the pale Australian contributed her winsome warble to hits “Destiny” and “Somersault.” Her solo smash “Breathe Me” (which you might know from HBO’s Six Feet Under) was even more haunting; its hushed piano and strings conveyed unspeakable melancholy.
Sia’s latest album as a solo artist, Some People Have Real Problems, also floats on air. Buoyed by rich piano, folk-soul guitars and plush R&B harmonies—mostly contributed by an all-star choir of LA bohemians, including Beck, Jason Lee, Inara George and Giovanni Ribisi—she ably channels Alicia Keys, Joss Stone and other soulful belters.
But Problems largely lacks the vulnerability of Sia’s best work. The album’s big ideas and grandiose instrumentation, while pleasant, feel overproduced and generic (as do its simplistic, overly saccharine lyrics). As a result, few songs emerge as distinctive. “Buttons” is a funky, new-wave-pop delight—think Tegan and Sara mashed up with Cyndi Lauper—while “Little Black Sandals” is a gorgeous torch-soul number.
But best is the quirk-folk ditty “Academia,” on which Sia croons school-centric phrases (“I’m a binary code that you cracked long ago/But to you I’m just a novel that you wish you’d never wrote”) in a lilting, lighthearted voice. Such a carefree atmosphere suits Sia’s chameleonic musical talents well; it’s too bad Problems’ slick music largely stifles her originality.
–Annie Zaleski
[Hip-Hop]
Lupe Fiasco
The Cool
***
Lupe Fiasco can’t seem to decide if he wants to appeal to a mainstream audience. Riches and fame would be nice, but he’s worried they would require him to cut out the activism and comic book-inspired subject matter his songs are known for. He’s not entirely comfortable with the underground crowd either, claiming that plenty of other indie-rappers have more to say than he does.
His thoughts on the matter are quite eloquent on songs like “Dumb It Down,” but on much of The Cool he’s trying to appeal to disparate groups of listeners. In the process, he ends up tackling way too many issues on the CD, from culinary habits in the black community (“Gotta Eat”) to gentrification (“Baby Says Cool For Thought”) to an elaborate street narrative which stretches across the album and features characters called The Streets, The Game and The Cool. Fiasco has a nearly unbeatable flow, and it comes through beautifully on bangers like “Go Go Gadget Flow,” “Paris, Tokyo” and “Superstar,” which find success through simple hooks and easily digestible themes.
Fiasco should not quit recording rap albums, as he has threatened to. Rather, he should continue to refine his ideas and quit giving a shit about who his audience might be.
–Ben Westhoff
[Alt-Rock]
Rivers Cuomo
Alone: The Home Recordings of Rivers Cuomo
***
For a good number of hardcore Weezer fans, band mastermind Rivers Cuomo hasn’t done anything worthwhile since 1996’s Pinkerton; worse, he’s tarnished his band’s legacy by churning out empty pop songs rather than the highly personal, heart-wrenching tunes that filled Weezer’s first two albums. Those fans will probably be at least partially gratified by Alone, Cuomo’s collection of demo recordings spanning the band’s entire career, but primarily focused on the Pinkerton era and earlier.
Casual fans (or those who prefer the band’s polished pop) may be less enthused, as these songs are mostly rough and occasionally sloppy; some are simply fragments of ideas that never panned out. The best (the Beatles-esque pop ditty “Chess,” the melancholy “Longtime Sunshine,” the fuzzed-out “Superfriend”) make you yearn for more fully realized recordings, while others (an oddball cover of Ice Cube’s “The Bomb,” the a cappella experiment “Ooh”) are curiosities for completists only.
Nearly as valuable as the music itself are Cuomo’s extensive liner notes, which detail his obsessive songwriting process and the amount of personal investment he puts into his songs—even the later, more generic fare. It’s the kind of emotional, revealing material that fans have been hoping for and of which Cuomo, at least at home by himself with his tape recorder, is clearly still capable.
–Josh Bell