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Senin, 14 November 2016
GIFTTT Guide: Week 1
Minggu, 13 November 2016
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Senin, 07 November 2016
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Minggu, 30 Oktober 2016
Recommended for you: If new liked video, then create a post on your Blogger blog
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Minggu, 23 Oktober 2016
Pitchfork's Best New Album -- Leonard Cohen: You Want It Darker
Leonard Cohen: You Want It Darker
Leonard Cohen has been bidding his farewell for decades, since before we ever met him. In 1966, he opened Beautiful Losers—his mystical, lysergic, gleefully obscene second novel—with the sunset plea, "Can I love you in my own way? I am an old scholar, better-looking now than when I was young. That's what sitting on your ass does to your face." He was just 32 then, rakish without ravaging, not yet celebrated for pairing wry, elegant sacrilege to folk melodies—a year before courting "Suzanne," 18 from raising his "Hallelujah." But even then, he was conscious and deferential to the light waning around him.
Which is a placidity his followers don't always share; what other 82-year-old artist could possibly acknowledge his impending mortality and alarm his fans enough to recant? After The New Yorker's remarkable recent profile quoted him as "ready to die"—depicting a mentally dexterous, physically frail ascetic "confined to barracks" in Los Angeles, solemnly tidying his affairs—Cohen took pains to console his fans, with familiar drollness: "I've always been into self-dramatization. I intend to live forever." But even as he demurs, it's hard not to play his 14th studio album, You Want It Darker, and hear a pristine, piously crafted last testament—a courtly act of finality that extends to the title. (Notice it's not a question; it's a prescription.)
Cohen has always kicked up his heels in the ambiguities of love and spirituality—casting prayers to the carnal, getting off on enlightenment. And so this new darkness he offers has dimensions instead of declaratives—it feels, in turn, to lyrically reference the encroaching blackness of death, the insularity of plumbing the soul ever-deeper, a fresh fatalism toward the spinning world. "I'm leaving the table/I'm out of the game/I don't know the people/In your picture frame," he laments, achingly, on "Leaving the Table," over a warm and minimal waltz. Later, he intones, "I'm traveling light/It's au revoir/My once so bright/My fallen star" ("Traveling Light"). It's delivered with a wink, and no more dramatically brooding than his past work, but it is inescapably morbid; every track is vivid yet still enigmatic as it conjures loss and lamentation of some variety.
This darkness also apparent in the newly fathomless boom of his baritone, which already stripped the floorboards on recent albums Old Ideas and Popular Problems. Whereas the rough edges of his younger, nasal reediness suggested chic bohemian nonchalance, now his low caroling is edged in defiance, and Darker's production is singularly complementary to it. When he imagines, not so subtly, the stars above him losing light ("If I Didn't Have Your Love"), his intoning dips below cherubic organs, hinting at what these enamored lyrics soon reveal—that this bright devotional is of the spiritual sort, hewing closer to his past career as a monk than as a Olympic-level ladies' man. (The most jarring thing about Darker is how utterly devoid of lust it is.) The gracious, spare production adds to the spell—contributed by his son, Adam Cohen, who almost wholly replaces his father's proclivities for tinny keyboards and stately, gospel-esque female harmonies in favor of violins, warm acoustic guitar, and a cantor male choir. The elder Cohen's familiar scaffolding of flamenco-influenced guitar remains, a bridge to history.
Cohen is not a songwriter who panders; he speaks above us, sometimes quite literally to higher forms, but also to universality instead of common denominator. Topicality, to him, remains somewhere around the Romantic era. But Cohen is also keen to experiment here. He embraces spry, rootsy bluegrass strings on "Steer Your Way," which nods back in a few directions—to his college stint in a country band, to 1971's Songs of Love and Hate (which featured Charlie Daniels on fiddle), to brighter moments on Popular Problems. The album's final track, for the first time, is a string reprise; it bows out "String Reprise/Treaty," Cohen's difficult conversation with his higher power ("I wish there was a treaty we could sign/It's over now, the water and the wine/We were broken then, but now we're borderline") with delicate, mournful dignity.
The album's heart is exposed early, and plainly, in the title track. Its religious tones veer toward disdainful ("If you are the dealer/I'm out of the game/If you are the healer/I'm broken and lame") but his oaky growl quickly becomes rapturous. Three times, as the choir drops out, he chants, "Hineni Hineni"—a Hebrew cry of devotion, the reply of a ready worshipper who hears their calling from God and is ready to act in service. Often, it's the service in the afterlife. His is not a yelp of fervor, or excitable in any shade; the moment is his most quaking, sunken baritone delivery on the album—so deep, it would sound sinister without such compassion imbuing it. It's the informed conclusion of a lifetime of inquiry. Hopefully, it is one holy dialogue of more still to come. But in this moment, he sounds satisfied; he has loved us in his own way, and he is ready for what awaits him next. But that doesn't mean we are.
October 24, 2016 at 12:00PM
via Best New Albums - Pitchfork http://ift.tt/2dNVIKa
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Selasa, 18 Oktober 2016
Pitchfork's Best New Album -- Weyes Blood: Front Row Seat to Earth
Weyes Blood: Front Row Seat to Earth
Weyes Blood makes serious music, but she doesn't take herself too seriously. Proof of that can be found in the final seconds of Front Row Seat to Earth, the fourth full-length from the singer/songwriter/producer born Natalie Mering. A brass band breaks through the din of hazy film samples and warped classical piano with the kind of royal proclamation that declares, "I'm here!"—just as the soiree is ending. Oops! Or look to the album's cover. The scene—a river winding through a dystopian landscape, with Mering perched on her side in the middle of it all, clad in a stylish turquoise satin suit—is mesmerizing. Then the eye moves towards her shoes: beat-up sneakers. What the hell?
Front Row works sort of similarly. The songs overflow with tender harmonies worthy of a Roches record and ornate instrumentation (from Mering and a strong cast of contributors) that blends '70s AM radio, the psychier end of late '60s folk, and touches of Celtic and Renaissance music. But listen closer and there's often a slightly alien (and typically electronic) undercurrent that keeps you intrigued. It's there in the ominous synth line that rises up from below a peaceful acoustic and tasteful woodblock and shakers in "Away Above," and again in the deadpan background vocals that haunt "Seven Words" just below the surface of a doe-eyed slide guitar solo from Hand Habits' Meg Duffy.
The over-the-top pinnacle of this effect comes on the knockout six-and-a-half-minute single "Do You Need My Love," where Mering sustains a note—on the word "need"—intermittently in the song's last half. All around her calm belt, calamity stirs: a brass band, piano chords, a thick bassline, graceful and complex percussion, and above all, an ominous synth that glows like an orb, brighter and brighter to the end. Keep in mind, this is a song that two minutes earlier, featured a breakdown comprised of psychedelic organ and thunder noises, which sounds like an oddly specific combination to anyone who hasn't endured the Doors. At times Mering really does sound like "Enya Does the Lost Songs of Karen Carpenter (Backed by Ray Manzarek)." But thankfully her lyrics don't also lose themselves in mystical platitudes borrowed from generations past. She cuts through the bullshit here: "Do you need my love?" she asks, walking the line between robotic and serene. "Do you need someone?"
As much of a throwback as Mering can seem, at her best she captures her generation in her words. On "Generation Why," arguably the album's centerpiece, she actually sings the letters "YOLO" with more thoughtful care than the phrase ever deserved. Using the kind of dulcet finger-picking and flowery folk-singer phrasing that's been easy to dismiss as wimpy for decades, Mering essentially chronicles how she learned to stop worrying and love the bomb. "I've been hanging/On my phone all day/And the fear goes away," she says, trying to embrace the kids' distraction of choice from the coming end times. Later, she surmises, almost kicking herself halfway through for jinxing it, "It's not the past/That scares me/Now what a great future/This is gonna be."
Even Mering's less philosophical takes feel distinctly modern. "Be Free," the song that sounds the most like a waltz, finds her embracing an independent approach to drifting apart that seems more now than of the free love era its far-out sounds might have worked within. "It's just the two of us/And I want you to be free/Don't worry about me/I got my thing," she sings. As first she sounds perfectly clear (the record's production is excellent), but by the end, in creep those alien background vocals again.
It's this ability—to twist an homage just enough to show that you're aware of how totally saccharine it sounds—that makes Mering shine in a way she hasn't on her albums up to this point. She commits more fully to the world she's building here, though 2014's sprawling rock rumination The Innocents is not without its highlights. Her approach (not her sound) recalls Angelo Badalamenti's lush, over-the-top score to "Twin Peaks." It was overwhelming and kitschy, but you could tell that he knew it, particularly when paired with David Lynch's work. Mering's music might sound like it belongs from a bygone era, but she definitely knows it. If you listen closely enough, you can start to locate her in this fantastical backdrop—sly, knowing and assured. What, doesn't everyone wear sneakers to the apocalypse?
October 19, 2016 at 12:00PM
via Best New Albums - Pitchfork http://ift.tt/2efXiWs
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Pitchfork's Best New Album -- NxWorries: Yes Lawd!
NxWorries: Yes Lawd!
Imagine it: You grew up in Oxnard, Calif. Your dad went to prison for beating your mom. You had a kid with your second wife. You lost your job, and a place to live. You were homeless.
Your friends looked out for you. You slowly picked yourself up. You changed your name: Breezy Lovejoy became Anderson .Paak. You gained some traction, partly by redoubling your focus on your vocals, leaving the beatmaking to producers you trusted. Some Soundcloud hits followed, some friendships with well-connected rappers, a sophomore album, Venice, on which your voice had gone from a blunt instrument to a swiss army knife, able to do 15 different things at once.
And then you got the call. From Aftermath, Dr. Dre's label. A representative was checking to see if you were interested in the American dream, California rap edition—in working with an icon you'd been listening to since you were six years old. You made it.
Channel that experience, .Paak's own recent past, into a single song, and you might come up with something like "Livvin," the first proper song off Yes Lawd!, his new joint album with the beatmaker Knxledge. "Livvin" is triumph incarnate, a new entry in the tradition of "ashy-to-classy" tracks like "Juicy" and "Touch the Sky." .Paak preaches the gospel of success in between rolling drums, mellow horns, and a church choir. His voice's inextricability from the music is a testament to his chemistry with a producer steeped in the tradition of the beat scene godheads, Dilla and Madlib. (.Paak and Knx, whose real name is Glen Boothe, have merged their names into NxWorries, an apparent nod to the definitive Stones Throw duos, Jaylib and Madvillain.)
.Paak's sudden stardom, largely due to his work with Dre and to this year's Malibu, his extraordinary third album, might tempt listeners to give him the credit for Yes Lawd!'s many successes. But the record, which includes tracks recorded between early 2015 and March 2016, is first and foremost a beat tape, stacked with beautiful little donuts, most of which don't pass the three-minute mark. Knx was raised on church music, hip-hop radio, and J Dilla, and the rich instrumentals here are loaded with tributes to all three. "Sidepiece" offers .Paak a chance to sing the lyrics of "Won't Do" from Dilla's posthumous album The Shining: "One won't do and two is not enough for me, no," while "Can't Stop" is a zoned-out moment of musical reverie that intimately recalls Jay Dee. The beats are the soul of the album, and .Paak serves as a faithful instrument, the organ at their core.
Producers have fallen hard for .Paak and here, he shows several reasons why his stock has risen so quickly. He's uniquely aware of the flexibility of his voice as an instrument and is one of the more emotive rappers I can remember hearing, on a level with DMX or Young Thug. On "Best One," even as he expresses gratitude for a woman who's taken him in, you can hear urgency, and empathy, in his voice: "You know I could be leaving in a moment's notice/You telling me to stay to the morning/You know a nigga homeless." On "Lyk Dis," he channels no one so much as Erykah Badu, riding the beat with gravelly, percussive verses delivered in short bursts.
In the past, Knxledge has had trouble focusing on a particular sound for too long, but it's his focus that holds the record together through 19 tracks, even as he shows off his range. On "What More Can I Say," one of the prettiest songs here, mournful violin strings engage in a duet with a quiet bass rumble, and their interchange makes for some of the most moving music on the album, particularly when the horns arrive. (If you pride yourself on recognizing samples, this album will offer up a form of exquisite torture at least a couple of times, as you attempt to track down lovely little fragments.) The shuffling beat on "Link Up" is one of the more subtle offerings here, but its winding rhythms and muted sample make .Paak sound as if he's singing from the middle of the dancefloor, appropriate for a song about nocturnal pursuits.
Many of .Paak's songs are about going out, and particularly about women, and it's in their lyrics that Yes Lawd! reveals one of its only issues, a lack of lyrical substance. While an artist like Drake comfortably straddles the line between rapper and R&B singer, .Paak is more of a crooner than a rhymer. There are too few moments like the clever little lyrical elaboration on "Best One": "I could leave it at a drop of a fedora/But damn it girl I want you."
And what we get instead can be ugly. On "Livvin," .Paak sings about the feeling of ascending the ladder, but on some songs, it seems like he's pulling it up behind him. The sentiment toward other strivers on "H.A.N." is stingy, and .Paak's portraits of his relationships are often shallow—a fact that the final track "Fkku" seems to acknowledge, giving a woman's voice the record's final kiss-off. The worrisome thing here is not that .Paak can be sexist. It's that there's nothing to counter or contextualize his attitude. On "Suede," .Paak makes an explicit effort to justify the slurs he frequently uses: "If I call you a bitch/It's cause you're my bitch/And as long as no one else call you a bitch/Then there won't be no problems."
The records that .Paak and Boothe admire, the classic Stones Throw collaborations, found two artists working at the absolute height of their talents. Madvillainy, in particular, was a perfect match between an internal rhyme genius in Doom and a beatmaking savant in Madlib. That album, released in 2004, remains a high water mark in Stones Throw's history. .Paak and Knx are both so talented that it seems fair to hold them to that standard. And what's astonishing here is the way they manage to forge a sound nearly as rich and original as that of America's most blunted. One of the few disappointing things about the largely terrific Yes Lawd! is the way that Knx outdoes .Paak, but the rapper/singer is at the beginning of a bright career in which he's already demonstrated his ability to write rich lyrics—this record, which includes some of the most beautiful songs he's made yet, has far more to be proud of than not. It's another major accomplishment in .Paak's continued rise.
October 18, 2016 at 12:00PM
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