BACK! And just in time...

I lost track of this thing for a while now; I figured that I would go back to ETC by the end of December at the latest.

Talk about cutting it close.

Housekeeping-wise, expect to see the end-of-year record list up after Non-Religious-Specific-Holiday Period ends. I usually have plenty of time to evaluate records while trying to avoid relatives drunk on cheap wine and empty lives. Hopefully, my soul-sucking job won't prevent me from getting near the computer.

In the meantime, I'm going to ramble about songs I heard this year that got me really excited.

My introduction to Brooklyn's Vivian Girls was at the last show at McCarren Pool, during which they proved to be the most muted, poppiest group at the show. Not an incredibly difficult feat, considering the competition, but they were likable enough (at least I thought so; my girlfriend found them insufferably bland) that I was willing to give their record a shot. While it had a much fuller sound than that particular live show-keep in mind that the sound systems at McCarren are legendary for their awfulness-there wasn't much to the songs on the record; they all chugged along amiably, only occasionally applying an amount of distortion that could be called dissonant. Pleasant, yes, but nothing extraordinary.

Then this song came on.

I'll admit to having a soft spot for multiple-part harmonies in any form of music, but I challenge even the most adamant of anti-pop noiseniks to not feel elated by the chorus of "Where Do You Run To." Garage-rock may have been done to death by 2004, but garage-rock by way of Ronnie Spector is just fresh enough to stay on repeat for the next six months. The rest of the album is pretty much the same as this, but in between the same song written 10 or so times, Vivian Girls manage to throw us the best oldies hit that never was.

...


Kanye West is not the world's worst human being. He's an arrogant, petulant, spoiled, bratty man-child, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Far be it from me to encourage or excuse the way he acts, but losing one's mother and breaking up one's engagement can be rough for anyone. I just wish he had picked a different drug to abuse other than Auto-Tune. For those who are unaware, Auto-Tune is a vocoder that adjusts vocal performances for pitch inconsistency and any vocal mistakes. In short, it is the reason why I have declared all modern forms of R&B to be legally dead for the past three years. Artists like T-Pain and Akon are well-known for their use of the device: you might notice that both of these artists suck, but that is not because of Auto-Tune.

Anyway, Kanye released an album in December entitled 808s and Heartbreak, a "pop art" album (Kanye's words, not mine) that utilizes the TR-808 drum machine and Kanye's beloved Auto-Tune. The main reason for Kanye's use of Auto-Tune is simple: his actual singing voice is atrocious, and he can't keep a consistent pitch to save his life. (Watch this if you don't believe me.)

Despite this, I couldn't hate 808s and Heartbreak. I should have: as a fan of Kanye West's previous work, it was so far of a departure that I expected myself to have the knee-jerk negative reaction because it wasn't a "normal" Kanye West album. It does get close, though, and the song that does it is easily the best song on the album. Maybe it's because Kanye doesn't try to sing at all (Thank Jesus), or it's the soaring string track...actually, it's the soaring string track. After six straight tracks of oppressively dreary (albeit interesting) synth track, something with motion is welcome to break the rut. Like the soundtrack to an inspiring-yet-awful film, the strings lift you to another pop stratosphere; for an album that puts so much weight on its shoulders, it's nice to feel lighter than air for a few minutes.