As I perused the aisles of Loblaws this fine sun-filled afternoon, I was greatly pacified by my discovery of a particular line of products. Loblaws now proudly carries select juices by Genesis Today. My personal favourite is Noni100, made from 100% pure wild-grown and harvested Noni juice, which according to the fine people at Genesis Today grows only in remote volcanic regions. mmmm volcanic lava fruit.
Upon visiting Genesis Today's website, my initial suspicion that the company is somehow linked to Scientology or some equally creepy pseudo-religious group (Mormons, Battlestar Galactica Fanclub) was only strengthened. The poor layout, misguided colour scheme, and insistence on the ominous Dr. Lindsey's expert analyses are all web-cult signs. Or at least signs of a pyramid scheme or a penis enlargement pill company.
At a price tag of over $50 for a 946ml bottle (also, 946ml? what an odd quantity...I would assume it is some type of cosmically significant number that relates to humanity's certain doom), one might say that Genesis Today is rather audacious for selling such expensive goods during an economic downturn. Personally, I salute them. Whether the economy is recessive or not, cult members need sustenance from their daily intake of Goji100.
Thus far, the "big" releases (in my mind, anyway) of 2009 have been a bit of a letdown. That being said, a hell of a lot is riding on Manchester Orchestra's Mean Nothing to Everything (which, based on what I've heard so far, will not be a letdown). I have been sitting on a few albums for the past month or two trying to wrap my head around why they simply do not "do it" for me. Have my musical tastes changed in the past year or so? I would say, yes, slightly, but not enough to nearly despise new albums by Thursday, Cursive, and Metric. The first two are high on my list of all-time favourite bands and the third is a bit more of a guilty pleasure (yet one that still has musical and lyrical depth).
On Thursday's 2007 collection of b-sides, rarities, and live songs, Kill The House Lights, Tim Kasher makes a guest appearance on the track "Ladies and Gentlemen: My Brother, The Failure." The end result is a fantastic collaboration between two artistically adept, yet aesthetically different vocalists. At the time I considered it to be a sign of things to come, that Thursday and Cursive were at the height of artistic ingenuity and would release awe-inspiring albums by the end of the decade. Not quite.
Thursday's Common Existence falls short of any expectations I could have had. It certainly does not help that Rickly's other band, United Nations, released one of the best albums of 2008, only raising these expectations. Within the first ten seconds of Common Existence, I am disappointed. I realize that seems like a bit much, but come on, "Resuscitation of a Dead Man" begins with Rickly shouting to an ambulance. I'm sorry, but hospital imagery is beyond overused by the whole screamo scene--Thursday has always been a bit better than that. Oh, and don't get me started about the transition into the chorus, a lame screaming of "Resuscitate!" In order to keep things "fresh," the song employs a chorus that is reminiscent of AFI, with vocal notes that ascend and descend on the line "life and love." No no no. Thursday emulating AFI, albeit for only one line of a song, is never a good thing. There is little that distinguishes the 4 or 5 middle songs on the album from each other. Each is a mid-tempo "hard" song, with a brief screaming bit here and there, a bridge that briefly mellows the song, and riffs that do nothing to catch my attention. "Last Call" has a decent ending as Rickly repeats the line "Everything is falling apart" at an odd time increment. The track that ultimately would be the album's standout, "Time's Arrow," unfortunately is similar in sound and structure to United Nations' "Filmed in Front of a Live Audience" and, quite frankly, is just not as good. Perhaps Rickly put all his creative energy into United Nations and once it was time for Thursday to record he was laterally drained.
Now to move on to Kasher and company's shortcomings on Cursive's Mama, I'm Swollen. Happy Hollow (2006)was nothing short of a masterpiece. Come to think of it, ditto for The Ugly Organ (2003). Why, even Domestica (2000) was pretty damn good. Perhaps after three straight albums of ingenuity Cursive simply have nothing left. This album causes me to question the correlation between weak lyrics and bland musicianship. It is one thing if Kasher has a bit of writer's block and struggled to pen lyrics as politically cutting and emotionally responsive as he has in the past. It is another thing (a far worse thing) if the music that accompanies these lyrics is uninventive and devoid of the extra instruments (organ, cello, horns) Cursive has employed in the past. Lead track "In The Now" is like a pop-punk band's obligatory "serious" song included on a second album to prove they have matured, like Simple Plan singing about Separatist politics. The whiny, sing-song nature of the song does not help to disprove this analogy. In fact, I find a striking resemblance between this track and Goldfinger's "Open Your Eyes," a pseudo-political song by a band that is politically illiterate. The entire album itself has an adult contemporary vibe to it--a genre of music I have often lambasted in the past. The fact that lead single "I Couldn't Love You" was premiered on Entertainment Weekly's website further fuels my point. Lyrically, the album is quite minimalist, with concise lines in standard stanzas, which is not necessarily a bad thing, but it certainly pales in comparison to Happy Hollow's robust lyricism. The first bit of sonic creativity comes on the fourth track, "Donkeys." The music box and acoustic guitar work together to set a somewhat sinister twilight scene. Kasher fucks things up a little, though, with the line "gonna make an ass of myself," which I find to be a little blatantly obvious in a song entitled "Donkeys." We get it. "Mama, I'm Satan" is the first lyrically interesting track on the album. In fact, it is quite bleak--something Kasher has proven to be a master of in the past. It appears as though Kasher bemoans his entire career on this song, calling it "a career of masturbation." The song suggests that the world has been built by slaves and is upheld by egos. If we were to psychoanalyze the lyrics, we may uncover the reasons behind Kasher's sudden inability to write anything meaningful on this album. Buttttt who has time for that. Closing track "What Have I Done?" suggests that it is wrapping up a story, as if the entire albums has been chapters in a novel. However, the preceding tracks do not follow a specific plot line or interconnectedness, as previous Cursive albums have. Essentially it is the closing track to an album that does not exist. Decent closing track, however.
I will keep my review of Metric's Fantasies rather short, as it is simply not worth much effort or thought. Lead track and lead single "Help I'm Alive" has potential in its brooding synth intro and echoing vocals. Even the chorus has an inauspicious undertone that blends nicely with the pop-oriented catchiness. However, once the song moves into an oddly placed post-chorus with absolutely no transition, it is lost on me. During this part the entire tone of the song changes, as Emily Haines sings like a high pitched middle school girl on her way home to watch, oh, I don't know, Gossip Girl (!) online. There certainly is a different tone to the tracks on Fantasies in comparison to past albums. Everything is a little bit more upbeat and more guitar-driven. I prefer the Metric that was dependent upon Haines' sweeping synth and overall reluctance. The only standout track is "Twilight Galaxy," which subsequently is the only synth-driven track on the album. Unlike the rest of the tracks on Fantasies, this song is subtle and moody. Closing track "Stadium Love" is representative of Metric's newfound aspirations; it is a big song, big enough to fill a stadium, by a band that wishes to play it in a stadium.
Rather than end this darn tootin' hoedown of reviews (or was it a hootenanny?) on a negative note, there is one recent musical acquisition that has left me beaming (like a gamma ray). Toronto art-rock quintet DD/MM/YY's latest release, Black Square, is a 12-track entity unto itself. Fast tempo whacky time signatures, relentless chanting vocals, space-spazz synth oddities, near noise-rock delineation--yes yes yes! I do anticipate this band to at least somewhat blow up this year, much in the way Fucked Up did--that is, not to the extent that they are included on Gossip Girl episodes, but to the extent that they can no longer play small, charming venues.
