Heard Here

Wonderful Rainbow, Lightning Bolt

Like a twisted David Lynch movie or a dense Faulkner novel, the latest effort from bass and drums duo Lightning Bolt requires a certain amount of persistence to appreciate. But with great effort comes great reward and there is a perverse sense of accomplishment that goes along with actually listening to Wonderful Rainbow that is more satisfying than anything the current crop of blow-dried “angry” teenagers and Madonna/whore pop divas have to offer, no matter how accessible their music may be. Listening to this album is sort of the sonic equivalent of standing next to a burning car wreck; it’s all the more awesome the closer you are to it and don’t get burned. Technically none of the tracks on this album are what you would call “songs,” so if you’re looking for crafted hooks, catchy melodies or even clear instrumentation, this will be about as comfortable as a sauna on a July afternoon in Mississippi and no less intense. Lightning Bolt is one of the few bands that can make Slayer seem catchy and tuneful. But even with all the screeching feedback and crackling noise on this album, Wonderful Rainbow isn’t completely inaccessible either. A bizarre rhythm emerges as the pulsing distorted bass and steady drumming fall into step, sort of like getting into the groove of listening to a table saw. While it’s true that most people have trouble appreciating the musical merits of power tools, Lightning Bolt ably illustrates the attractiveness of energy and experimentation over tunefulness that anyone with a taste for the unconventional (this is Oberlin, right?) can appreciate.

—Derek Schleelein

Quality, Talib Kweli

My roommate and I talk about a lot of things. We’re both busy people too, so when we talk we make it count. And it takes a particularly weighty topic to distract us from our midterms, since we’re both serious students. Very serious students. But this past week, in the thick of our midterms, one of the more urgent matters in need of our collective contemplation was Talib Kweli’s (relatively) new CD, Quality.
And more so than any other aspect of the 15-song set, Kweli’s rhymes are flat out discussion-worthy. The words leap out of the speakers and have vivacity and bite that most other rappers wish their words had on a good day. On songs like “Get By,” lines dynamically layer upon, and twist around each other, informing themes and metaphors that span the songs’ refrains with the strength of a suspension bridge. When Kweli’s razor sharp tongue ends one verse with “[people will] get high on all types of drugs/ when all you really need is love,” only to start the next with “my pen sings like John Lennon/ imagine all the people watchin’/ we rock like Paul McCartney/ from now until the last beat’ll (Beatle) drop,” you can’t help but put down your Environmental Studies textbook and nod in awe and appreciation; such clever, complex and reflective rhymes don’t come along every day. And when the normally conscience-heavy MC takes a break from his dead-on social commentary — which touches on everything from Americans in the post 9/11 world (“The Proud”) to the struggles facing younger generations (“Joy”) — to brag about his rhyming abilities, you can ignore the fact that he’s full of himself because he’s got the skills to back up his boasting. Kweli’s wordplay sucks you in and leaves little doubt in your mind that, yes, you other MCs out there “can’t hold the mic like your liquor/ your style’s light like Amstel,” as he so deftly points out on the “Eye Of The Tiger”-esque “Rush.”
Of course, Kweli’s rhymes wouldn’t take off in the same way if his beats weren’t tirelessly funky, but luckily there’s no need to stop, say, writing your German Cinema paper to think about it. Nearly every track on Quality sounds like it’s straight from the ’70s — but with thicker bass, crisper drums, and brighter horns. The soul and groove are there in your face (especially on “Shock Body” and “Good To You”), though thankfully without the static and pops of an old LP.
So what did my roommate and I conclude? Well, not much besides what’s already been said — all it took was 476 words to cover it all. But any fan of music knows that you hear about the best stuff, the stuff that everyone keeps talking about, through word of mouth and Quality is one record that we’ll both be talking about for weeks to come.

—Greg Teves

Giraffe, Echoboy

Though Noel Gallagher may have been counting on Echoboy (Richard Warren)’s new-found pop sensibility when he asked him to join Oasis three years ago, we can be sure that he didn’t bet on Warren having the gall to turn down one of the biggest rock bands in Britain. Thankfully, Warren eschewed the Gallagher circus to remain on his own, and with his latest full-length offering, Giraffe, Echoboy demonstrates a blossoming songcraft that more then justifies his been-there-done-that poise.
This, his third solo record after the destruction of his former band, The Hybrids, finds Warren in full command of his prodigious talent — a talent that flirts as easily with Nine Inch Nails-esque industrial nihilism (“Wasted Spaces”) as it does with New Order dance anthems (“Automatic Eyes”). Having a godfather like Flood (U2, The Smashing Pumpkins) on board as producer and mixer doesn’t hurt either. Giraffe is filled to the brim with keyboards, acoustic and electric guitars, pounding house beats and wave after wave of synths, but Warren and his sidekick never let all those hummable melodies get lost in the clutter. One can imagine a club full of ravers pumping their fists to the first single, “Automatic Eyes,” as easily as one can picture some kid all alone in his room filling his lungs with the tune’s haunting chorus.
The more recognizably “techno” feel of his first two LPs, Volume 1 and Volume 2, has been dropped for a distinct breed of pop that recalls Joy Division as much as it does the Prodigy. Giraffe evokes the aura of the ’80s without ever sounding overly sentimental or nostalgic. “Don’t Destroy Me” is a disturbing meditation on memory and solitude buoyed by ambient synths and Warren’s overripe beats, while “Summer Rhythm” bleeds the singer’s self-doubt out into a brilliant guitar line that’s as funky as it is unexpected. And on “Good on T.V.,” Warren explains why the Oasis gig wouldn’t ever have worked when he says, “All that we can do is sit and wait/ For the money to accumulate/ But it’s never gonna happen to me/ Because I don’t look good on T.V.” — a line that proves Warren knows where his true gifts lie.
The only static in Echoboy’s transmission is his voice. While his music never looks back, Warren’s pipes just seem overwhelmed by his own creations. The poor guy often sounds like he’s singing 10 feet away from the mic while the synths explode around him. Still, Giraffe is a wonderfully self-assured collection of pop and a testament to the all the power that lies in giving techno a human face.

—John MacDonald