By Jason Hettinger

At some point and time, we’ve all lost somebody very close. Whether it is loss by death, moving away, or some other reason, it is human nature to be overwhelmed with questions while mourning some type of loss. Why did this happen? How did this happen? Is there something I could’ve done to prevent this from happening? These questions accompany any serious loss, and they’re precisely the topics Corinne Bailey Rae’s sophomore album, “The Sea,” explores.

Singer/Songwriter Corinne Bailey Rae hit the music scene with a big splash with her eponymous 2006 self-titled debut, powered by the uplifting neo-soul single “Put Your Records On,” resulting in plenty of critical acclaim, and a handful of Grammy nominations. In the spring of 2008 Bailey Rae was in the process of recording her follow-up album when her husband/saxophonist Jason Rae died of an accidental methadone overdose, causing Baily Rae to spend the next two years in isolation, stricken with grief. But after her musical hiatus, she returned to the studio to finish what really is a remarkable, eloquent comeback album.

“The Sea” begins with a pair of songs that ask plenty of questions, like the album opener “Are You Here?” The fascinating idea about the opening songs is that the questions are never explained or answered… only asked. The lyrics of the next track “I’d Do it All Again” are even trickier, centering around an argument she and her husband had before his surprising death. Yet Bailey Rae sings of her love in the present tense throughout the entire length of the album.

After the delicate opening of “The Sea,” Bailey Rae goes back to her neo-soul roots, and busts out some numbers seemingly from left field, including the slithering, Rolling Stones-esque “The Blackest Lily,” a nod to Philadelphia’s neo-soul party The Black Lily. But not every song unfolds so neatly. There are several tracks that don’t really have a hook at all. Songs like “Love’s On Its Way” and “Diving for Hearts” have elements of soul, jazz, and even some heavy rock, but aren’t pop songs. Instead, Bailey Rae almost stubbornly crafts them to become a vehicle for her wandering, inconsistent thoughts.

The most powerful song is the title track that masterfully brings the record to a close. Bailey Rae’s tender, oh-so-soft voice sings about generations of loss, and the endless sea of time that “Breaks everything/Crushes everything/Cleans everything.” It all seems quite incongruous, but so is the recovery process one must face after a loss. “The Sea” (both the album and the title track) go through almost an entire cycle of mourning, reminiscing, and wistful yearning, so it isn’t unfamiliar, but is at times uncomfortable.

As I said, “The Sea” is an album about loss and grief that asks questions but answers none. After numerous listens, I can only locate one nugget of comforting information buried within its context. After a serious loss, you are still you. You are still yourself plus the loss, plus the pain, plus the suffering that comes with it. The recovery process isn’t so much about “getting over it” as it is incorporating these new emotions, absorbing what is necessary, and somehow finding the strength to remain the person you’ve always been.

Jason is a 24-year-old “Ad-Guy” who works at KDEC FM 100.5 in Decorah. Jason is excited for spring, as springtime in Decorah truly is special. Catch Jason on FM 100.5 weekend afternoons.

A Badly Broken Code by Dessa
“I came to write a letter/ But my pen was full of hymns,” raps Dessa, a member of the Minneapolis hip-hop collective Doomtree. This is one philosophy major who knows what to do with her degree. As righteous as Ani DiFranco, as tough as Eminem, as lilting as Janet Jackson, and as scrappy and nimble as Maggie Fitzgerald, Dessa can reference Billie Holliday, the Ninja Turtles, and Gabriel Garcia Marquez without missing a beat. Featuring inventive production, impeccable flow, and surprising harmonies, this dense, soulful album is simply beautiful. If you listen to hip-hop, you need this record; if you don’t, start here.

The Big To-Do by Drive-By Truckers
Perhaps America’s best rock band, this Georgia group infuses its work with grungy Neil Young/Lynyrd Skynyrd guitar riffs and stories that would suit Flannery O’Connor just fine. The characters in these songs are on four day benders, literally falling from grace and crossing all the lines Johnny Cash tried to walk, but given the Great Recession and its accompanying cynicism, not even the-forces-that-be give a dang anymore. “Eyes Like Glue” concludes the album with an uneasy and devastating reflection on the American Dream. This record better be blasting out of every pick-up with its windows down this summer.

I Speak Because I Can by Laura Marling
One part Joni, one part Sinead, twenty-year-old Laura Marling’s second album is a brooding, poetic work of English folk. “Devil’s Spoke” – which wonders if the tree that falls in the forest observes her – feels ripped out of Led Zeppelin III. Throughout the album, Marling chronicles a harsh world that draws monsters out of men who then lash out at their daughters, lovers, and mothers. Marling knows her search for inner strength and insistence upon compassion is a story as old as civilization, so she gives the final words to Penelope, who vents for all the Ladies of the Canon.

Broken Bells by Broken Bells
Gnarls Barkley producer Danger Mouse teams with James Mercer, lead singer of indie band the Shins, for an album that portrays yesteryear’s Obama volunteer as today’s version of Benjamin Braddock – a vacant-eyed college graduate uninterested in plastics who’s just fled the church to find himself sitting in the back of the bus, wondering what’s next. (“I was lost then and I am lost now/ And I doubt I’ll ever know which way to go.”) By evoking the sanitized psychedelia of late 60s soft pop, Broken Bells implies we’re still riding that bus, although, admittedly, Benjamin’s a rather witless passenger.

CLASSIC REVIEW:

#1 Record by Big Star (1972)
On the day Davy Crockett died, we also lost another Tennessee hero, Alex Chilton, the mastermind behind Big Star, whose Byrdsian jangle pop influenced Tom Petty, R.E.M., and the Replacements. Due to a handful of bad breaks, few know the group recorded two rock classics: Radio City, and my favorite, (their debut,) #1 Record. “Feel” and “In the Street,” (which Cheap Trick covered for the theme of That 70s Show) are power pop treasures, but the ballad “Thirteen” epitomizes the band: Its honest, innocent depiction of teenage heartache links Lennon-McCartney to Taylor Swift and puts emo’s whining boys to shame.

Jason Stonerook is the author of Rock ‘N’ Politics: A State of the Union Address. Line Score: 3-4, 0-2, 6. Rebounds 4. Assists 0. Turnovers 2.

 By Jason Hettinger

 
It’s ironic that the Brooklyn-based independent rock band Grizzly Bear named their latest album after an uninhabited island off the coast of Massachusetts. Ironic in the sense that the album Veckatimest is vibrant and full of life. Even the band’s name is slightly ironic, as the name Grizzly Bear conjures up images of a tough, hard, rocking, and, well, grisly sound. Instead the band sounds (and by looking at their pictures, also looks) rather artsy and intelligent.

Veckatimest is only Grizzly Bear’s third full-length album and certainly their most ambitious to date. Various genres are seamlessly blended together through the entire album, and it results in a very satisfying and unique sound. From folk-pop to doo-wop, or psychedelic to ethereal baroque harmonies, there is plenty of musical complexity and experimentation to satisfy true lovers of music.

Grizzly Bear lets the listener know how wide the album’s scope is in the lead track Southern Point – centered on a slinking bass line, it switches quickly into psychedelic folk-jazz with bustling acoustic guitars, piles of shimmering vocal harmonies, swishing drums, and various other sparkling sounds. The point of the track is to take the listener’s breath away immediately, and let them know exactly the kind of remarkable ride they’re about to take, and it works.

Within two tracks you know you are experiencing an extraordinary piece of art. After the breathtaking, disorientating punch-in-the-gut of “Southern Point,” Veckatimest picks the tempo up with the lead single of the album, “Two Weeks,” by far the catchiest song on Veckatimest. Plucky Regina Spektor-esque piano chords drive the song along, as the band effortlessly floats mesmerizing, blissful harmonies behind it. It is inevitable that “Two Weeks” will draw plenty of associations to early Beach Boys works, or even a more contemporary comparison to 2008 juggernaut Fleet Foxes. Some of the comparisons are warranted (and quite frankly, very favorable!) by the intricate attention to details and strict harmonies, but what sets Grizzly Bear apart is their sheer ambition to sound as simple as possible to casual listeners, but also find the complex musical niche they strive for.

Tracks such as “Fine for Now,” “Ready, Able,” and “I Live With You” are perfect examples of Grizzly Bear’s multifaceted strategy. Take any of those songs and you will find moments just about anyone will be able to identify with, be it a lyric, or any specific musical characteristic or sound. But as a whole, the songs are puzzles to be solved. Intricate arrangements and vague lyrics leave the listener to decipher exactly what point the band is trying to make.

It really is yet another irony of Veckatimest. The complex, intricate harmonies and instrumental arrangements are a severe contrast to the simple, imprecise, open-endedness of the lyrics. They will never be confused with the lyrics from Bob Dylan’s mid-60’s heyday, but at their best the lyrics are quite beautiful and most importantly, thought-provoking. The lyrics that I find most intriguing include the final almost chant-like segment that repeats at the end of the track “All We Ask” – I can’t get out of what I’m into with you – Another lyrical gem that I can’t seem to get out of my mind, from the track “Ready, Able”: I’m going to take a stab at this, surely it’ll be alright, make a decision with a kiss…five years and countless months all alone, hope I’m ready, able to make my own good home.

It’s clear that Grizzly Bear intended for Veckatimest to be listened to over and over. The album is a musical equivalent to a large buffet. There is something for everyone, there is a lot to digest, and you want to keep going back for seconds and possibly thirds. Grizzly Bear far exceeds any expectations with Veckatimest, and there is no doubt in my mind that in December, when looking back over the year 2009 in music, Veckatimest will still be highly regarded as one of the best, groundbreaking albums of the year.

Jason is a 24-year-old music lover who is proud to say that he works at KDEC-FM 100.5 as an “Ad-Guy.” You can also catch Jason on-air on FM 100.5 weekend afternoons or sometimes filling in for Tim or Jeni on the Morning Show. If you have any comments or questions, feel free to email Jason at jason@kdecradio.com

CLASSIC REVIEW: Thriller by Michael Jackson (1982)
Thriller is not an artistic masterpiece (the McCartney duet is literally bad), but is essential for any collector. To understand its importance, start in 1970, and not with the Jackson 5 but with the collapse of the Beatles, around whom the rock and roll universe revolved. 12 years later, Michael Jackson and producer Quincy Jones filled that vacuum (for better or worse) with their brand of silvery, synthesized soul. Suddenly, it made pop sense for funk (“Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’”), hard rock (“Beat It”), adult contemporary ballads (“Human Nature”), and disco (the infectious yet unsettling “Billie Jean”) to co-exist. Kids bought Thriller after its groundbreaking videos hit MTV, and their baby boomer parents followed suit. The result was the highest-selling album ever, a glossy yet edgy blockbuster that could stand alongside Star Wars, Indiana Jones, and E.T. Listeners soon began using Jackson’s work to decode a warped personality, but the joy of hearing Thriller in 1983 was that we were not yet burdened by biography. It was simply the coolest thing on the planet. Following Jackson’s death, it is a relief to find people appreciating and delighting in his music again.

 The Ecstatic by Mos Def
Pan-African? Muslim? The labels still fit, but they’re too constricting now for Mos Def. Let’s try “global” instead. There are samples here of Brazilian, Indian, Turkish, and Nigerian origin, and even a rap in Spanish honoring low-wage workers in the developing world. The theme is how you owe Allah your survival, and how this world’s survivors become super-heroes. “Auditorium” switches from an elementary-aged rapper keeping on in Bed-Stuy to an Iraqi kid who becomes the “Elvis of Baghdad” after mouthing off to a soldier. America had better get used to this new spin on soul music.

 Wilco (the album) by Wilco
Wilco’s recent sonic experiments take a backseat as they explore the fine lines separating companionship, support, and dependence on this sober, straightforward alt-country album. Early on we encounter a man adrift on a trireme searching for his Penelope; later, we meet another guy sitting in a Chevy Nova with blood-stained hair and a girl in the trunk. Loneliness is awful but the wrong form of companionship can be crippling. And addictive. Still, if you need “a sonic shoulder…to cry on,” know that “Wilco will love you baby.” Best lyric: “I was cold as gasoline.” Best George Harrison homage: “You Never Know.”

 Horehound by the Dead Weather
Based on this side project, Jack White of the White Stripes must have mugged the devil when he traveled to the crossroads rather than offer up a fair trade. Now Satan’s out for his soul, but White has Alison Mosshart of the Kills in his corner. Not that I’d trust her, either. She’s a proper Robert Plant who spits vile, threatens violence, and anticipates pain; for her, the blues is a form of masochism. Judge Holden and Anton Chigurh have nothing on this witch. “I’ve done some bad things,” she sings, “And they get easier to do.”

Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King by the Dave Matthews Band
DMB’s first album since LeRoi Moore’s passing opens with a soulful sax solo from Moore himself before kicking into a muscular, newly-electrified collection of songs about death, eternal love, Katrina, and sex. (This guy’s hornier than a beaded trumpet at Mardi Gras.) Matthews has his growl back, so if you like DMB, you’ll love this return to form. And if you’re like me – a 2000 graduate of a certain northeastern Iowa liberal arts college – you’ll think the album sounds like a Friday night in Brandt Hall, like a visit to KWLC, like a homecoming picnic on the library lawn.

 BLACKsummer’snight by Maxwell
With a voice reminiscent of Marvin Gaye, neo-soul singer Maxwell begs his lover during the opening track to “make [him] crazy” by “[proving] it to [him] in the nude.” By the time a second relationship crumbles near the album’s end, however, he admits, “I go insane, crazy sometimes/ Trying to keep you from losing your mind.” Maxwell knows the first lustful moments of a romance have nothing to do with logic, but he learns over the course of this funky yet elegant album that even a mature understanding of love cannot purge a relationship of its irrationality.

 Bible Belt by Diane Birch
Consider the song “Fools”: That simmering piano line brightened by a mellow horn section, the way the singer inflects the words “bed” and “head” with a tender touch of soul. That isn’t Carole King, but I wouldn’t fault you for making the mistake. Bible Belt is a pitch perfect homage to Tapestry. The only thing the album lacks is context: The sound of a liberated adult female voice formalizing the rock and roll songbook meant much more thirty-eight years ago than it does today. They just don’t make records like this anymore; in fact, no one has since 1971.

 Manners by Passion Pit
Somewhere, John Cusack is in talks with Michael Cera and Zooey Deschanel about starring in a movie based on the life of Michael Angelakos, the 21-year-old founder of Passion Pit who recorded a homemade Valentine’s Day EP for his girlfriend that eventually landed him a record deal with Columbia. Manners is as compulsively likeable as a Roy Lichtenstein painting, but its Indie-style celebration of 80s synth-pop sounds regressive. The children’s choir certainly doesn’t help his case, and that unrelenting falsetto only seems to say that Prince sounds a lot like Barry Gibb, which I find a little too hip.

 Electric Dirt by Levon Helm
For the past decade, 69-year-old Levon Helm – former drummer/vocalist for the Band – has hosted rootsy jam sessions open to the public in his barn near Woodstock. If that intrigues you, you’ll probably appreciate this effort. From a critical perspective, however, I wonder if Helm’s voice has completely recovered from his late-90s bout with throat cancer as he now strains to reproduce the ache that defined songs like “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down” and “The Weight.” The inclusion of youthful, pristine, female gospel vocals also feels out of place; rather than lend authenticity, they come off as an indulgence.

 The Eternal by Sonic Youth
I’ve always struggled intellectually to penetrate the music of Sonic Youth. It just seems that such carefully composed dissonance could contain more clarity and dimension. If you share that predicament, The Eternal can help break those barriers. The album’s crisp, hard rock riffs evolve into noisier arrangements that reveal the band’s post-punk/no wave roots. In the process, we see Sonic Youth’s debt to pioneers like Lou Reed and Patti Smith, as well as the influence this important band has exerted on acts like Nirvana and PJ Harvey. Daydream Nation makes a little more sense now.

Jason Stonerook is the author of Rock ‘N’ Politics: A State of the Union Address. According to his birth certificate, he was born in Cedar Rapids, Iowa … or was he?

“Together Through Life” -  by Bob Dylan
Dylan’s latest sounds like a slow-burning fire devouring an old oak, ring by ring, from the inside out. Most situate Mr. Zimmerman within the tumult of the 1960s, but Dylan fancies himself an avatar from a vanished pre-rock and roll landscape of borderland cantinas, wily bluesmen, and sideshow freaks. Like any folk song, his music is a conduit to an eternal past, and Dylan is a fortune teller who believes past is prologue. If songs like “Beyond Here Lies Nothin’” and “It’s All Good” are harbingers of things to come, then this republic faces hard times.

“21st Century Breakdown” – by Green Day
If you hadn’t heard, Green Day didn’t think much of the George W./ Cheney administration. Now that we’ve bid them good riddance, why is Green Day still obsessed with excoriating the irresponsible, faith-based warriors who handed Generation Y the keys to a brokedown nation? Because the band wants every kid to remember what happened over the past eight to – oh, I don’t know – forty years. Sure, it’s not as heroic as “American Idiot.” Lazy symbolism abounds. And the Who, the Clash, and Springsteen have covered this ground before. But that’s the point: Why must every generation remake this record?

“Fortress Round My Heart” – by Ida Maria
A fine slice of museum-quality Scandinavian pop-punk, the gem here is “I Like You So Much Better When You’re Naked.” The verses are propelled by skittish guitars and drums that nicotine can’t tame. Before long, the lead singer and her FWB are shedding their clothes on the way up to her flat. The guy helps Ida chant the chorus: “I like you so much better when you’re naked,” followed by the kicker, “I like me so much better when you’re naked.” Dr. Drew says it’s unhealthy to work out self-esteem issues via sex. True, but what if you’re just horny?

“Art Brut vs. Satan” – by Art Brut
He’s been up all night. He’s made mistakes. He hides it well, but doesn’t feel great. His band thinks they’re recording a Guy Ritchie soundtrack, but whatever: He’s the film’s narrator, a hung-over street philosopher who dodges bullets while cracking jokes. He tells it like it is. He’s 29, still reads Aquaman comics, and drinks chocolate milk. He hates U2, is indifferent to the Beatles, has just discovered the Replacements. (Really?) And he thinks your record collection sucks. He’s Eddie Argos, lead singer of Art Brut, an unabashed hooligan. So who’s Satan?

“Outer South” – by Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band
When last we left Mr. Oberst, he’d ditched the folksy Bright Eyes and made an album of country rock under his own name. Turns out the band he recorded with was all right, so they get credit this time ‘round. Since I’m not fond of epic folk albums, I like this new direction, even if it rarely becomes more than a Sunday drive down Highway 61. “Air Mattress” (a sweet ditty about love) and the political rant “Roosevelt Room” are highlights, although Oberst’s dewy voice seems to restrain the band elsewhere. He sounds more at home on the spare folk tracks. [Shrug shoulders.]

“Swoon” – by Silversun Pickups
I suppose it’s around that time when pop culture kicks its 80s obsession and begins paying homage to the 1990s, that era of recession, Newt, and alternative angst, which all got swept under the rug by Bubba’s tech boom. Silversun Pickups is a sign of sounds to come, resurrecting the ghost of Smashing Pumpkins via…wait, who is that, Linkin Park? That doesn’t count! See, you can’t get nostalgic about the era you’re still in. Hillary lost that fight a year ago. Be the change, ‘cause Silversun Pickups ain’t.

“The Airborne Toxic Event”
The Airborne Toxic Event relates tales of hopeless romantics searching for true love inside the disposable glitz of L.A.’s clubs. For them, it’s a postmodern dilemma. (How do we know? Because they found their name in a Don DeLillo novel.) Will TATE morph into a literate synthesis of the Strokes, the Smiths, and U2? Or will we hear their songs during CW dramas as tragically beautiful O.C. teens behold a Pacific sunset and wonder if they’ll someday graduate from the local mall to the boutiques of Rodeo Drive? Ah, postmodernism…

“Fantasy Ride” – by Ciara
Her voice is as thin Janet Jackson’s, so she’s no Beyonce, (which may not be a bad thing, since I think Ms. B. over-sings,) so like Michael’s little sister, Ciara will need to rely on hooks. Roughly half the songs have them, none better than “Love Sex Magic,” a funky, sensual duet with Justin Timberlake. It recalls Prince at his peak, and if you also hear shadings of Stevie, then Ciara has pretty much out-Wondered everything Alicia Keys has aspired to throughout her career.


CLASSIC REVIEW:
“Electric Music for the Mind and Body” - by Country Joe and the Fish (1967)
Perhaps best known for the anti-war “I-Feel-Like-I’m-Fixin’-To-Die Rag,” the Bay Area’s Country Joe and the Fish should also be remembered for recording – drip-for-drip – the best psychedelic album of the 1960s. All the hallmarks are here: Bluesy guitars on the edge of fuzzed-out distortion, spooky circus organs, mindbending imagery, half-jive vocals one step removed from 50s-era R&B and rockabilly, campy 60s beats, and vaguely eastern textures straight from the garage. And the songs are short, so there’s no mindless noodling. (Take that, Garcia.) It’s a trip. Gimme an F!

A little sonic experimentation leads to an 80’s style sound that is right at home in 2009.

By Jason Hettinger

Hot off the heels of 2005’s “Playing the Angel” – unquestionably their best album since 1990’s “Violator” – Depeche Mode enjoyed one of their most successful tours in the band’s three-decade history. However, it is very difficult for a band that has been around as long as Depeche Mode (specializing in what many feel is the outdated music genre of electro-pop) to not become complete caricatures of themselves. So when it came time to get back in the studio for a new album, Depeche Mode decided to bring back all the elements that made “Playing the Angel” so wildly successful and popular, and combine the attributes that made them famous almost 30 years ago. The result is an album that is far better than an “80s dance-rock” band should be making on its twelfth attempt.