Vintage and Vogue Squalls*

More than anything, I think, When U Gonna Luv Somebody, the debut album from Charlie the Horse, is the sound of a young band having fun. The way the band harmonizes, the raucous background noises, and the, well, smiles you hear through the music, tend to dominate the feeling of the record.

Displaying a talent beyond their years, the sound on When U Gonna Luv Somebody is often ramshackle yet always intentional and intricate. The banjo and horn on Up and Down Ladies add layers to an already clever love song. Despite the seemingly precocious vocals, lead singer Andrew Zucchino is not without humility in his tribute to the lady in question—explaining to her that “I follow shiny things/ because I’m young.” A better and more simple way to explain dalliances I have not heard (if that’s in fact what this is).



The texture of Hey Girl is different from the rest of the album—the vocals are secondary, playing background music to the piano that leads the way. For young bands, crafting this elaborate sound without cluttering everything else seems to be one of the most difficult propositions in making a record. Yet, here, Charlie the Horse is able to layer all of their sounds and still keep them distinct. It’s an example other fledgling bands would do well to follow.

It also helps, of course, that the distinct sounds are ones you would actually want to hear. The guitar work on Thunderstorm is reminiscent of some of the Black Keys’ best work (not to mention some Built to Spill-esque tremors on Go! Run! Hide! Run!), and Hey Boy starts off with a bass line and organ pulled from the Allman’s Whipping Post.

The real standout though, is Fever. Everything is present here—great vocal harmonies, Zucchino’s emotions on his sleeve, perfect light and airy guitar—and again the overwhelming sense that the band works well together, has fun, and is producing great music. Damn. It’s understated yet overpowering all at once—a sign that the underlying elements are so strong they don’t have to be shouted or turned to 11.



There’s a moment at the end of the first song and title track where you hear someone fiddling with a radio dial, and finally settling on something. Intentional or not, it’s a nice metaphor for the album. There’s a lot going on here, especially considering there are only eight tracks on When U Gonna Luv Somebody. It’s the rare debut album that both promises much for the future and delivers plenty for the present.

*In the interest of full disclosure, I’ve known lead singer Andrew Zucchino since he was a child. (I think) his older brother and I got him drunk for the first time by leaving jello shots in his fridge which he unknowingly ate. That said, I think this caused me to be even more careful with my words than usual. In short, I wholeheartedly believe everything I wrote above. Luckily, Andrew made this easy on me by making a kick-ass record. We’ll do an interview later this week and hear more. Congrats dude.

Give Your Lover a 69 for Valentine’s Day

Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m talking about the Magnetic Fields’ 1999 masterpiece 69 Love Songs. It is, as the title suggests, 69 “love” songs. There’s no way to accurately describe all of the songs in a general manner, they run the gamut from your run of the mill indie-pop to country to electronica. They’re not all brilliant, but there’s enough in there to find something from everyone, even your (perhaps) musically challenged significant other.

Why does it work? Most likely because of lead songwriter Stephin Merritt’s talent and unique approach. In a recent interview with Onion A.V. Club, Merritt pointed out that

You know, most love songs are not cheesy and corny. Most love songs are complaints, I think. Or about unrequited love, coming at it from some oblique angle. Only the ones that say “I love you” over and over are the cheesy, corny ones that people complain about. At least half the songs people hear in the world are love songs. I feel like my love songs, probably none of which just say “I love you” over and over again, are in the mainstream of that tradition of being a little off.

The brilliance in Merritt’s songs lies mostly with their sarcastic remarks (How Fucking Romantic), brilliant insights (They’ll Be Time Enough for Rocking When We’re Old), or casual self-deprecation (I Think I Need a New Heart).

Some of the funniest love songs come from his attacks on clichés. My favorite is from The Book of Love: “The book of love is long and boring / no one can lift the damn thing / it's full of charts and facts and figures / and instructions for dancing.” Merritt describes this process:

I don’t think there are any clichés I try to avoid. As soon as I spot a cliché, I go for it. I feel like clichés are the most useful thing in songwriting. They’re the tool on which you build all the rest of the song. Clichés that other people should try to avoid, I suppose, are rhyming “dance” with “romance,” or putting the word “love” at the end of a line and having to rhyme it. That’s about it. If you want to write a love song, you need to not try to write it for a particular person in a particular situation. It needs to be vague, otherwise you’re going to fall into trap after trap of trying to rhyme with somebody’s name. Keep it vague. That’s the T-shirt from this article.

All in all, there is a lot going on here. It’s going to take some time. But what better way to spend Valentine’s Day with your better half than listening to great music that can make you life, cry, and cringe from song to song? Here’s the 18 I would start with:

Absolutely Cuckoo
All Your Little Words
A Chicken with its Head Cut Off
Reno Dakota
I Don’t Want to Get Over You
Let’s Pretend We’re Bunny Rabbits
Come Back from San Francisco
The Cactus Where Your Heart Should Be
The Book of Love
I Think I need a New Heart
How Fucking Romantic
Nothing Matters When We’re Dancing
Roses
Time Enough for Rocking When We’re Old
Very Funny
(Crazy For You But) Not That Crazy
Papa Was a Rodeo
Love is Like a Bottle of Gin



*Disclaimer: I’ve never tried this before. The closest I came to “sharing” this album with someone was with my friend Deacon, and while our romance is unflappable, it may not be the type most of you share.

New Beach House Record 75% Less Boring

Beach House creates music that you’re only going to be listening to at the beach when it’s pouring rain outside. Still, there’s a need for this type of thing and their new record, Teen Dream does a stellar job of it. It’s a marked improvement from 2008’s Devotion, an unbelievably dull record, especially considering the rave reviews it received (one exception—a beautiful cover of Daniel Johnston’s nearly perfect song Some Things Last a Long Time). This time out, however, Beach House (Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally) create a record that may be the perfect soundtrack to a rainy day at the beach, or anywhere else. I find myself playing it on repeat during Snowpocalypse 2010 here in D.C.

So what makes Teen Dream work where Devotion so boringly failed? In a very general sense, the songs here seem to have more of a purpose. Only a few tracks seem to meander (Norway, Real Love), but most have very direct hooks that catch within the first minute. Alex Scally’s guitar is excellent all over this record. The opener, Zebra, starts with a simple plucked electric guitar, with Victoria Legrand rhetorically asking “don’t I know you / better than the rest?” The guitar is out front again on Silver Soul, but this time Legrand lets her voice fly a bit—“it’s a vision / complete illusion / it is happening again / it is happening again.” Used to Be is as close to a straight pop song they may ever do, while 10 Mile Stereo is as driving of a song as the name implies.

Most impressive on this record, I think, is that Beach House did not change their sound, they just made it sound better (wait…isn’t that a tag line for a commercial?). It’s the sound of a band growing into their own and learning to use each other. Teen Dream will never be everyone’s favorite record and I won’t be putting it on to entertain guests, but it may be the best sleepy, rainy day pop record we hear in 2010.

Fuck Your Coloring Book!

One of my favorite people in the world, who I have defended before, is back! New, semi-crazy but pretty fucking cool blog post! Sure, it’s got a rant about fashion I don’t understand, but the better point is here (I’m putting proper capitalization on his words):

“Remember, there was a time when everybody dissed Michael Jackson every chance they could. Imagine the pressure of being a true icon. Very few human beings are strong enough to take constant hate! If we don’t do what you feel is the shit, you beat us up verbally and mentally, like a Catholic school teacher beating a creative student into submission. I can hear you screaming ‘color inside the lines!’ Well fuck your coloring book.”

There are three things here worth discussing. First is the obvious point—he’s right—as an “icon,” he constantly gets analyzed and beat to shit like everyone else. Sure, he chooses to be an icon, but goddamn don’t we want that? We need icons, he is one. It sucks that we do this to people we like and admire.



Second, you’re made because he called himself an icon in the first place. What, is he supposed to act all doe-eyed and fascinated when he sees his fans and realizes his popularity? Fuck that. It would be even worse if he pretended he wasn’t a celebrity. Are we mad because he’s popular now? Did we think he was better before all of this, before we had to share him with everyone else? If we liked him then didn’t we want this for him? When did I become a question-talker?

The third thing is that sure, we don’t want him always rapping about his celebrity. We don’t want yes men around them so they don’t know what’s worth a shit and what’s not. We want them, at least in essence and spirit, to remain the same, to be able to draw us in for the same reasons they attracted us in the first place. But for them to be able to do that, we have to give them support, which may mean ignoring them when they do something we hate and loving them when they do something awesome. But mostly, it means not being dicks to people we’ve never met.