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April 4, 2011
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Renault Snafu Shows Risks of Whistle-Blower Probes
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March 28, 2011
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Goldman Board Remains Under Spotlight
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Hay Group Raps Big Pharma Incentive Model
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Directors Concerned About IT Risk Oversight
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March 28, 2011
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How Boards Are Rethinking Risk: Study
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March 28, 2011
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March 28, 2011
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Monday, March 28, 2011
Internal Auditors Predict Bigger Work Loads
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March 21, 2011
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CEO, Director Pay on the Rise: Studies
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March 21, 2011
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March 21, 2011
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HP Takes Heat Over CEO’s Part in Board Overhaul
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Thursday, March 24, 2011
The Mountain Goats - All Eternals Deck
Album Review
SPIN
April 2011
Link
7/10
Damning vampires and surviving with eloquence
On the Mountain Goats' 18th album, frontman John Darnielle radiates an unfamiliar feeling: comfort. He enlists death-metal dude Erik Rutan as an unlikely producer (on four songs), but if All Eternals Deck rarely stumbles, it rarely surprises, either. As usual, the North Carolina trio's latest is musically contemplative (mostly acoustic guitar or piano, bass, drums, maybe strings) and lyrically bountiful (camera-ready metaphors, idiosyncratic settings, characters with warts). Darnielle's reedy whisper -- or, less often now, shout -- confides but also encourages: "We hold hands and we jump / And as we fall, we sing." For Darnielle, that's living.
SPIN
April 2011
Link
7/10
Damning vampires and surviving with eloquence
On the Mountain Goats' 18th album, frontman John Darnielle radiates an unfamiliar feeling: comfort. He enlists death-metal dude Erik Rutan as an unlikely producer (on four songs), but if All Eternals Deck rarely stumbles, it rarely surprises, either. As usual, the North Carolina trio's latest is musically contemplative (mostly acoustic guitar or piano, bass, drums, maybe strings) and lyrically bountiful (camera-ready metaphors, idiosyncratic settings, characters with warts). Darnielle's reedy whisper -- or, less often now, shout -- confides but also encourages: "We hold hands and we jump / And as we fall, we sing." For Darnielle, that's living.
Peter Bjorn & John - Gimme Some
Album Review
SPIN
April 2011
Link
7/10
Crunchy and Creamy: Don't care about "Young Folks"? Neither do these guys.
Technically, Peter, Bjorn and John are one-hit wonders, but they sure are a multifaceted bunch. Breezy first encounter "Young Folks," from their 2006 breakthrough, Writer's Block, whistled its way to global dominance, but follow-up single "Let's Call It Off" was memorable enough for Drake to sample on his own career-launching mixtape, So Far Gone. In the meantime, the Stockholm trio have delved into beachcomber electronics (2008's Seaside Rock) and fractured hip-hop rhythms (2009's Living Thing, with an F-bomb chorus a year too early). If Peter Morén's solo bow was clumsy, Bjorn Yttling's production work for Lykke Li and others continues to impress.
On PB&J's sixth album overall, the group again changes tack, tapping an outside producer and reverting mainly to guitars, bass, and drums. Gimme Some has a punk-octane velocity that sometimes leads to bitterness -- toward critics (the Buzzcocks thrash of "Breaker Breaker"), Swedish royals (R.E.M. jangler "[Don't Let Them] Cool Off"), and pessimists (krautrock night-drive "I Know You Don't Love Me"). Sometimes it still leads to romantic melancholy -- burial ballad "May Seem Macabre" or punk-pop sleeper "Lies."
But even when trading whistling for cowbell, there's something these three songwriters always remember: "You can't, can't count on a second chance." If the least they do is keep revealing new shades of the familiar, it's worth sticking around and seeing this band through.
SPIN
April 2011
Link
7/10
Crunchy and Creamy: Don't care about "Young Folks"? Neither do these guys.
Technically, Peter, Bjorn and John are one-hit wonders, but they sure are a multifaceted bunch. Breezy first encounter "Young Folks," from their 2006 breakthrough, Writer's Block, whistled its way to global dominance, but follow-up single "Let's Call It Off" was memorable enough for Drake to sample on his own career-launching mixtape, So Far Gone. In the meantime, the Stockholm trio have delved into beachcomber electronics (2008's Seaside Rock) and fractured hip-hop rhythms (2009's Living Thing, with an F-bomb chorus a year too early). If Peter Morén's solo bow was clumsy, Bjorn Yttling's production work for Lykke Li and others continues to impress.
On PB&J's sixth album overall, the group again changes tack, tapping an outside producer and reverting mainly to guitars, bass, and drums. Gimme Some has a punk-octane velocity that sometimes leads to bitterness -- toward critics (the Buzzcocks thrash of "Breaker Breaker"), Swedish royals (R.E.M. jangler "[Don't Let Them] Cool Off"), and pessimists (krautrock night-drive "I Know You Don't Love Me"). Sometimes it still leads to romantic melancholy -- burial ballad "May Seem Macabre" or punk-pop sleeper "Lies."
But even when trading whistling for cowbell, there's something these three songwriters always remember: "You can't, can't count on a second chance." If the least they do is keep revealing new shades of the familiar, it's worth sticking around and seeing this band through.
BOAT - Dress Like Your Idols
Album Review
Pitchfork
March 21, 2011
Link
7.6
BOAT mainstay D. Crane is archetypal of a certain sort of thirtysomething indie dude. He's brainy and at least somewhat socially conscious (he served half of a two-year stint in Teach for America), he knows his way around music-friendly metropolises (currently living in Seattle, he did his TFA time in Chicago), and he can certainly identify with The Boston Globe sports writer Chad Finn's excellent blog about classic sports cards (BOAT's 2008 Topps 7" EP came with five hand-drawn cards, plus a stick of bubblegum). Crane's band, meanwhile, has been working on the fringes of the indie rock mainstream, receiving generally positive reviews.
BOAT's fourth album, then, finds the Crane-fronted four-piece going through something of an underachiever's quarter-life crisis. On one hand, Dress Like Your Idols sees Crane, drummer Jackson Long, bassist/guitarist Mark McKenzie, and multi-instrumentalist Josh Goodman finally making their way into a real studio for the first time. On the other hand, that studio-- Seattle's Two Sticks Audio-- is already defunct. And the songs, like the album cover, are as inspired by the band's youth as ever, merging Stephen Malkmus's obliquely deadpan twang, Tullycraft's sugary scene-skewering, and Modest Mouse's "reptile boy" yelp. Where some slightly younger slackers have been opting for warped 1980s synth-pop, BOAT continue to love the 90s: an era when they didn't know, as per the rueful title track, that "the job you wanted doesn't exist." The result is the best album yet from a band whose style finally appears to be back in vogue, though its sometimes-bitterly sardonic humor still won't be for everybody.
When BOAT apply their new-found professionalism, Dress Like Your Idols outdresses more than just famously schlubby Doug Martsch, whose Built to Spill is one of nine bands paid tribute to on the album's memorably meta cover. First single "(I'll Beat My Chest Like) King Kong" sets a basic pop hook ("I'll love you if you love me") over crunchy guitars and boisterous drumming that could please fans of such similarly 90s-minded bands as Surfer Blood, Yuck, or Free Energy (remember, the 90s also loved the 70s: Weezer, people!). John Roderick, whose underrated group the Long Winters gets its own album-cover homage, adds his drowsy, Pedro the Lion-ish backing vocals to "Landlocked", the record's screeching, pent-up emotional centerpiece. As Crane sarcastically boasts elsewhere, "If looks could kill, I'd slaughter you."
While the caustic, slightly self-pitying edge to PBR-pumping power-pop anthems like "Classically Trained" (which targets those lucky souls "making art for a living") and "Kinda Scared of Love Affairs" (which begins, almost a cappella, "I'm not sure I want to be good-looking") may put a few people off, it's hard to fault the successfully bombastic execution for anything except cozy familiarity. "In time you'll become a cynic," hyper-referential "When Frank Black Says (No. 14 Baby)" warns, adding, "We're just like you." When Dress Like Your Idols transcends the archetypal 30-ish indie dude's perhaps understandable cynicism, BOAT resemble their heroes in more ways than one. That's why the most revealing lyric, ultimately, turns out to be this: "Nothing seems impossible to me."
Pitchfork
March 21, 2011
Link
7.6
BOAT mainstay D. Crane is archetypal of a certain sort of thirtysomething indie dude. He's brainy and at least somewhat socially conscious (he served half of a two-year stint in Teach for America), he knows his way around music-friendly metropolises (currently living in Seattle, he did his TFA time in Chicago), and he can certainly identify with The Boston Globe sports writer Chad Finn's excellent blog about classic sports cards (BOAT's 2008 Topps 7" EP came with five hand-drawn cards, plus a stick of bubblegum). Crane's band, meanwhile, has been working on the fringes of the indie rock mainstream, receiving generally positive reviews.
BOAT's fourth album, then, finds the Crane-fronted four-piece going through something of an underachiever's quarter-life crisis. On one hand, Dress Like Your Idols sees Crane, drummer Jackson Long, bassist/guitarist Mark McKenzie, and multi-instrumentalist Josh Goodman finally making their way into a real studio for the first time. On the other hand, that studio-- Seattle's Two Sticks Audio-- is already defunct. And the songs, like the album cover, are as inspired by the band's youth as ever, merging Stephen Malkmus's obliquely deadpan twang, Tullycraft's sugary scene-skewering, and Modest Mouse's "reptile boy" yelp. Where some slightly younger slackers have been opting for warped 1980s synth-pop, BOAT continue to love the 90s: an era when they didn't know, as per the rueful title track, that "the job you wanted doesn't exist." The result is the best album yet from a band whose style finally appears to be back in vogue, though its sometimes-bitterly sardonic humor still won't be for everybody.
When BOAT apply their new-found professionalism, Dress Like Your Idols outdresses more than just famously schlubby Doug Martsch, whose Built to Spill is one of nine bands paid tribute to on the album's memorably meta cover. First single "(I'll Beat My Chest Like) King Kong" sets a basic pop hook ("I'll love you if you love me") over crunchy guitars and boisterous drumming that could please fans of such similarly 90s-minded bands as Surfer Blood, Yuck, or Free Energy (remember, the 90s also loved the 70s: Weezer, people!). John Roderick, whose underrated group the Long Winters gets its own album-cover homage, adds his drowsy, Pedro the Lion-ish backing vocals to "Landlocked", the record's screeching, pent-up emotional centerpiece. As Crane sarcastically boasts elsewhere, "If looks could kill, I'd slaughter you."
While the caustic, slightly self-pitying edge to PBR-pumping power-pop anthems like "Classically Trained" (which targets those lucky souls "making art for a living") and "Kinda Scared of Love Affairs" (which begins, almost a cappella, "I'm not sure I want to be good-looking") may put a few people off, it's hard to fault the successfully bombastic execution for anything except cozy familiarity. "In time you'll become a cynic," hyper-referential "When Frank Black Says (No. 14 Baby)" warns, adding, "We're just like you." When Dress Like Your Idols transcends the archetypal 30-ish indie dude's perhaps understandable cynicism, BOAT resemble their heroes in more ways than one. That's why the most revealing lyric, ultimately, turns out to be this: "Nothing seems impossible to me."
Davila 666 - Tan Bajo
Album Review
Pitchfork
March 21, 2011
Link
7.7
For the right kind of fuzzed-out rock band, gaining a bigger audience doesn't have to mean leaving the garage. Sure, these days plenty of lo-fi acts-- from Wavves to Dum Dum Girls to Cloud Nothings-- have left the scuzzy sonics behind, as Pitchfork contributor Martin Douglas recently noted over at Passion of the Weiss. And it definitely works when, say, Smith Westerns embrace swooning Britpop balladry, because those Chicago glam-brats' songs already had a certain teen-dream sweetness to them. But their former tourmates Davila 666 are a different case. You wouldn't hire a big-budget remixer to scrub the grit out of "Wild Thing" or "Louie Louie", would you?
Like its Nuggets-crushing forebears, this Puerto Rican six-piece earns a place on your next house-party playlist with sheer anarchic energy, not to mention a formidable gift for language-transcending hooks. On Davila 666's underrated 2008 self-titled debut album-- plus a handful of vinyl-only releases for HoZac, Douchemaster, and Rob's House-- they established themselves as gleefully filthy purveyors of indecipherably catchy garage-pop. Thankfully, Tan Bajo doubles down on the group's strengths, delving deeper into screeching sonic chaos while adding an even more memorable batch of songs to shout along with, whether or not you understand the words.
That means Davila 666's sophomore album is still rowdy enough for an impromptu weekend binge with a few friends, but it also offers enough carefully crafted tunes and feedback-streaked textures to fill your headphones. Stylistic tropes from classic 1960s girl groups complement raucous guitar licks on harmony-drenched "Yo Seria Otro", with its call-and-response verses and touches of strings, as well as on waltz-time "¡Diablo!", with its brutally earnest spoken-word section. Meanwhile, the Velvets-JAMC scree explored on the earlier "Ella Dice" only expands on the hypnotically pounding "Si Me Vez..." or the instant-earworm advance mp3 "Esa Nena Nunca Regreso". When the band breaks into a full Ramones sprint on "Mala" or "Patitas", anyone with a playground-level knowledge of Spanish can still catch the gist: mierda, caliente, cerveza, cucaracha. That said, at plenty of times Davila 666 continue to delight in their inscrutability, as on the distantly crooned opener or the chocolate-jingle hidden track-- inside jokes, maybe? In any event, such dumb fun is a necessary part of what the train-whistling, irrepressibly hey-hey-ing "Los Cruces" reminds us, in a rare English-language moment, is only "rock'n'roll."
Pitchfork
March 21, 2011
Link
7.7
For the right kind of fuzzed-out rock band, gaining a bigger audience doesn't have to mean leaving the garage. Sure, these days plenty of lo-fi acts-- from Wavves to Dum Dum Girls to Cloud Nothings-- have left the scuzzy sonics behind, as Pitchfork contributor Martin Douglas recently noted over at Passion of the Weiss. And it definitely works when, say, Smith Westerns embrace swooning Britpop balladry, because those Chicago glam-brats' songs already had a certain teen-dream sweetness to them. But their former tourmates Davila 666 are a different case. You wouldn't hire a big-budget remixer to scrub the grit out of "Wild Thing" or "Louie Louie", would you?
Like its Nuggets-crushing forebears, this Puerto Rican six-piece earns a place on your next house-party playlist with sheer anarchic energy, not to mention a formidable gift for language-transcending hooks. On Davila 666's underrated 2008 self-titled debut album-- plus a handful of vinyl-only releases for HoZac, Douchemaster, and Rob's House-- they established themselves as gleefully filthy purveyors of indecipherably catchy garage-pop. Thankfully, Tan Bajo doubles down on the group's strengths, delving deeper into screeching sonic chaos while adding an even more memorable batch of songs to shout along with, whether or not you understand the words.
That means Davila 666's sophomore album is still rowdy enough for an impromptu weekend binge with a few friends, but it also offers enough carefully crafted tunes and feedback-streaked textures to fill your headphones. Stylistic tropes from classic 1960s girl groups complement raucous guitar licks on harmony-drenched "Yo Seria Otro", with its call-and-response verses and touches of strings, as well as on waltz-time "¡Diablo!", with its brutally earnest spoken-word section. Meanwhile, the Velvets-JAMC scree explored on the earlier "Ella Dice" only expands on the hypnotically pounding "Si Me Vez..." or the instant-earworm advance mp3 "Esa Nena Nunca Regreso". When the band breaks into a full Ramones sprint on "Mala" or "Patitas", anyone with a playground-level knowledge of Spanish can still catch the gist: mierda, caliente, cerveza, cucaracha. That said, at plenty of times Davila 666 continue to delight in their inscrutability, as on the distantly crooned opener or the chocolate-jingle hidden track-- inside jokes, maybe? In any event, such dumb fun is a necessary part of what the train-whistling, irrepressibly hey-hey-ing "Los Cruces" reminds us, in a rare English-language moment, is only "rock'n'roll."
Investors, Lawyers Oppose SEC Budget Cuts
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March 14, 2011
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March 14, 2011
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Activist Chevedden’s Proposals Withstand No-Action Requests
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March 14, 2011
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March 14, 2011
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Large Investors Opt Out of Countrywide Settlement
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March 14, 2011
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March 14, 2011
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New PCAOB Head Focusing on 'Central Governance Issue'
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March 14, 2011
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March 14, 2011
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Ford Board Faces Complex Succession Questions
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March 14, 2011
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March 14, 2011
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For Audit Committees, ‘Now Is the Time’ on IFRS: Lawyer
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March 14, 2011
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March 14, 2011
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Shareholders Like Annual Votes on Pay
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March 14, 2011
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March 14, 2011
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Shareholders Back Annual Pay Votes 2 to 1 Over Triennial
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March 7, 2011
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March 7, 2011
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Monday, March 7, 2011
STRFKR - Reptilians
Album Review
SPIN
April 2011
Link
7/10
Zen and the art of getting indie-rock dudes to dance
Off-kilter psych-pop tunes and ultra-sleek dance beats share plenty of DNA. The Beatles owned an early Moog; Electric Light Orchestra used Giorgio Moroder's studio. Starfucker is another computer-OK purveyor of candy-colored guitar confections, part of a line that runs from Flaming Lips to Super Furry Animals to Of Montreal to MGMT. With dance-rock standouts like "Julius" and "Bury Us Alive," the Portland quartet's third album is its best yet. It's also the third straight to sample '60s hippie guru Alan Watts over gaudy '80s synths. If the overarching life-from-death concept doesn't quite cohere, well, that's probably healthy.
SPIN
April 2011
Link
7/10
Zen and the art of getting indie-rock dudes to dance
Off-kilter psych-pop tunes and ultra-sleek dance beats share plenty of DNA. The Beatles owned an early Moog; Electric Light Orchestra used Giorgio Moroder's studio. Starfucker is another computer-OK purveyor of candy-colored guitar confections, part of a line that runs from Flaming Lips to Super Furry Animals to Of Montreal to MGMT. With dance-rock standouts like "Julius" and "Bury Us Alive," the Portland quartet's third album is its best yet. It's also the third straight to sample '60s hippie guru Alan Watts over gaudy '80s synths. If the overarching life-from-death concept doesn't quite cohere, well, that's probably healthy.
Toro Y Moi - Underneath the Pine
Album Review
SPIN
April 2011
Link
8/10
Not chillin' but wavin', synth popper wades deeper
With 2010's Causers of This, Chaz Bundick ambled to the front of the bedhead synth-pop scene -- dubbed chillwave after a blogger's in-joke. The South Carolinian's second album as Toro Y Moi keeps that unhurried glide, but ditches the electro-R&B samples for ornately funky lounge pop, often with a live, improvisatory feel. David Axelrod's plush grooves, Ennio Morricone's CinemaScope expanses, Brian Wilson's tragic kingdom: Underneath the Pine has deep roots. And, beneath woozy sighs and richly varied arrangements, deep uncertainties. "I can wait," Bundick insists on psych-pop stunner "Elise." Save the last laugh for him.
SPIN
April 2011
Link
8/10
Not chillin' but wavin', synth popper wades deeper
With 2010's Causers of This, Chaz Bundick ambled to the front of the bedhead synth-pop scene -- dubbed chillwave after a blogger's in-joke. The South Carolinian's second album as Toro Y Moi keeps that unhurried glide, but ditches the electro-R&B samples for ornately funky lounge pop, often with a live, improvisatory feel. David Axelrod's plush grooves, Ennio Morricone's CinemaScope expanses, Brian Wilson's tragic kingdom: Underneath the Pine has deep roots. And, beneath woozy sighs and richly varied arrangements, deep uncertainties. "I can wait," Bundick insists on psych-pop stunner "Elise." Save the last laugh for him.
Another Danger of Social Media: Corporate Satirists
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February 28, 2011
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Whistle-Blower Rule Bad for Shareholders?
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February 28, 2011
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February 28, 2011
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Whistle-Blower’s Tale Offers Glimpse Inside Countrywide
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February 28, 2011
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February 28, 2011
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SEC Rebuffs American Express Eligibility Challenge
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February 28, 2011
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February 28, 2011
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Internal Audit Role to Shift Toward New Areas
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February 28, 2011
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February 28, 2011
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Thursday, March 3, 2011
The Envy Corps
Feature
YellowBrick
February/March 2011
Link
The Envy Corps are free. Lead guitarist Brandon Darner remembers the exact moment of their emancipation. On Oct. 16, 2008, the Des Moines-based quartet was about to play Schubas, in Chicago’s Lakeview neighborhood, when an e-mail came through on Darner’s smart phone: Universal subsidiary Vertigo Records was releasing the band from its major-label record deal. The guys high-fived each other.
YellowBrick
February/March 2011
Link
The Envy Corps are free. Lead guitarist Brandon Darner remembers the exact moment of their emancipation. On Oct. 16, 2008, the Des Moines-based quartet was about to play Schubas, in Chicago’s Lakeview neighborhood, when an e-mail came through on Darner’s smart phone: Universal subsidiary Vertigo Records was releasing the band from its major-label record deal. The guys high-fived each other.
Borders Bankruptcy a Defeat for Ackman
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February 22, 2011
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February 22, 2011
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How Contentious Will Proxy Season Be?
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February 22, 2011
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February 22, 2011
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GOP to Question Fannie, Freddie Execs on Pay
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February 22, 2011
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February 22, 2011
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Monday, February 21, 2011
Who Are...Fergus & Geronimo
Feature
eMusic
January 2011
Link
eMusic
January 2011
Link
File under: '60s garage-pop laced with slacker irony
For fans of: The Fresh & Onlys, the Beets, Harlem, Box Elders, Strange Boys, Eat Skull, the Dead Milkmen, the Troggs
Personae: Jason Kelly and Andrew Savage (vocals, guitars, bass, drums, organ), with guests Elyse Schrock (vocal), Casey Carpenter (flute), Monet Robbins (saxophone)
From: Denton, Texas; now living in Brooklyn
"The rock 'n' roll business is pretty absurd, but the world of serious music is much worse," Frank Zappa once told a bemused interviewer. Fergus & Geronimo started with the premise of "Motown by way of Mothers of Invention," and the Texas-bred, Brooklyn-based duo clearly shares Zappa's mischievously sardonic outlook. Unlearn, the band's full-length debut for the Sub Pop imprint Hardly Art, is at once more musically polished and more lyrically caustic than the group's promising run of singles on well-regarded indies Woodsist, Transparent and Tic Tac Totally!. Right before Kelly and Savage left their apartment to pick up a new four-track machine Savage had just bought off Craigslist, they spoke with eMusic's Marc Hogan about Top 40 production values, a Super Bowl bet gone wrong and why networking is really, really important.
For fans of: The Fresh & Onlys, the Beets, Harlem, Box Elders, Strange Boys, Eat Skull, the Dead Milkmen, the Troggs
Personae: Jason Kelly and Andrew Savage (vocals, guitars, bass, drums, organ), with guests Elyse Schrock (vocal), Casey Carpenter (flute), Monet Robbins (saxophone)
From: Denton, Texas; now living in Brooklyn
"The rock 'n' roll business is pretty absurd, but the world of serious music is much worse," Frank Zappa once told a bemused interviewer. Fergus & Geronimo started with the premise of "Motown by way of Mothers of Invention," and the Texas-bred, Brooklyn-based duo clearly shares Zappa's mischievously sardonic outlook. Unlearn, the band's full-length debut for the Sub Pop imprint Hardly Art, is at once more musically polished and more lyrically caustic than the group's promising run of singles on well-regarded indies Woodsist, Transparent and Tic Tac Totally!. Right before Kelly and Savage left their apartment to pick up a new four-track machine Savage had just bought off Craigslist, they spoke with eMusic's Marc Hogan about Top 40 production values, a Super Bowl bet gone wrong and why networking is really, really important.
Fergus & Geronimo - Unlearn
Album Review
eMusic
January 2011
Link
Legend has it quintessential punk-rock prototypes the Troggs took their name from an unkempt tribe of British kids who stripped off their clothes and lived in caves. That idea would probably suit Fergus & Geronimo just fine. The Brooklyn-via-Texas duo's debut is a painstakingly sloppy, hilariously deadpan exercise in juvenile regression from wiseacres who love their Motown as much as their Mothers of Invention.
Unlearn's schizophrenic adventures in doo-wop, jangly British Invasion pop and '90s-style indie rock cohere thanks to an overall ramshackle looseness. But don't mistake this record for lo-fi: Significantly polished from the band's early singles, the songs here never muffle their attacks on phonies of all stripes. Successfully skewered targets include loveless yuppies, sanctimonious oldsters and, yes, trend-spotting music journalists.
The Shangri-Las-inspired title track best sums up this group's m.o.: "You can unlearn what you know/ You can escape all the lies." And recurring, cinematic sing-song fragment "Could You Deliver" bears bad news for Mom and Dad: "Tell them I ran away to join some damn punk rock band." But it's on "Powerful Lovin'," a soulful breakup belter recalling Captain Beefheart circa Safe as Milk, where Fergus & Geronimo really get back to where the wild things are.
Fergus & Geronimo Unlearn review, courtesy of eMusic.com, Inc., © 2011 eMusic.com
eMusic
January 2011
Link
Legend has it quintessential punk-rock prototypes the Troggs took their name from an unkempt tribe of British kids who stripped off their clothes and lived in caves. That idea would probably suit Fergus & Geronimo just fine. The Brooklyn-via-Texas duo's debut is a painstakingly sloppy, hilariously deadpan exercise in juvenile regression from wiseacres who love their Motown as much as their Mothers of Invention.
Unlearn's schizophrenic adventures in doo-wop, jangly British Invasion pop and '90s-style indie rock cohere thanks to an overall ramshackle looseness. But don't mistake this record for lo-fi: Significantly polished from the band's early singles, the songs here never muffle their attacks on phonies of all stripes. Successfully skewered targets include loveless yuppies, sanctimonious oldsters and, yes, trend-spotting music journalists.
The Shangri-Las-inspired title track best sums up this group's m.o.: "You can unlearn what you know/ You can escape all the lies." And recurring, cinematic sing-song fragment "Could You Deliver" bears bad news for Mom and Dad: "Tell them I ran away to join some damn punk rock band." But it's on "Powerful Lovin'," a soulful breakup belter recalling Captain Beefheart circa Safe as Milk, where Fergus & Geronimo really get back to where the wild things are.
Fergus & Geronimo Unlearn review, courtesy of eMusic.com, Inc., © 2011 eMusic.com
Nasdaq Hack a Warning Signal for Boards
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February 14, 2011
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February 14, 2011
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ISS Urges Apple to Disclose Succession Plan
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February 14, 2011
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February 14, 2011
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Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Yuck - Yuck
Album Review
Pitchfork
February 15, 2011
Link
8.1
A revival of the 1990s, a decade unusually obsessed with postmodern revivals in fashion and culture, was always inevitable. But it isn't exactly overdue. In fact, over the past few years, the return of bands and styles from the Clinton administration has almost become cliché. Pavement, Dinosaur Jr., the Dismemberment Plan, Jawbox, and even Blink-182 have reunited. Guided By Voices reassembled their "classic lineup." And Weezer recently reprised their beloved mid-90s albums in their entirety at live shows. Among younger artists, the college-rock subculture of the 80s and 90s has been resurgent for some time, whether in the Slumberland-streaked indie pop of the Pains of Being Pure at Heart or Best Coast, the artful squall of No Age, the achingly nostalgic paeans of Deerhunter, the ambling guitar epics of Real Estate, or the slacker punk-pop of Wavves.
There's no escaping it: If you've heard anything about Yuck, it's that this London four-piece loves the 90s. The band's members are very clearly products of the web rather than any particular geography; their self-titled debut evinces tastes that run toward fuzzy indie bands from both sides of the pond. Yes, there's a bit of the wah-pedal guitar violence of Dinosaur Jr., and a little of the lackadaisical detachment of Pavement, but there's also the rich tunefulness of Teenage Fanclub and Velocity Girl, and at times the unadorned resignation of Red House Painters or Elliott Smith. However, like so many artists saddled (fairly or not) with the "revival" tag, from post-punk and garage-rock to nu-disco or neo-soul, Yuck are worth hearing not so much because of who they sound like, but what they've done with those sounds: in this case, make a deeply melodic, casually thrilling coming-of-age album for a generation that never saw Nirvana on "120 Minutes".
As with their best peers in the Fat Possum stable, Yuck distinguish themselves by knowing their way around around a catchy, emotionally evocative song. Sometimes these can be bright and optimistic, almost twee, as in the peppy boy-girl endearments of "Georgia", or the midtempo acoustic yearning of "Shook Down". Elsewhere, they can be gritty and urgent: Screeches of feedback occasionally drown out drowsy vocals on "Holing Out", nicely suiting lyrics about communication problems; likewise, the distortion-blistered repetitions of "The Wall" suggest the Sisyphean efforts they describe. Then there are the heartfelt mopers: the stripped-down comfort offer "Suicide Policeman", the Galaxie 500-meets-"Nightswimming" "Stutter", or the lonely post-breakup jangler "Sunday". Seven-minute closer "Rubber" is the type of gorgeously incantatory slow burner veterans like Yo La Tengo still make (see "More Stars Than There Are in Heaven", from 2009's underrated Popular Songs)-- not to mention Mogwai, who've remixed it-- but too few bands successfully emulate. Add up these different types of tracks, and you have an unusually coherent album-length experience.
If you've heard anything else about Yuck, it might be that two of the band members, singer/guitarist Daniel Blumberg and guitarist Max Bloom, used to play in Cajun Dance Party: ambitious and typically spazzy post-Arctic Monkeys NME faves who issued a Bernard Butler-produced debut album, The Colourful Life, in 2008 on XL. As with that former band, Yuck are occasionally guilty of some awkward lyrics-- the seemingly gratuitous "crucifixion"/"benediction"/"addiction" rhymes on note-bending love ballad "Suck" come to mind-- and it's hard to guess how long they can keep this particular sound going (a Yu[c]k side project offers intriguing hints). But together Blumberg, Bloom, drummer Jonny Rogoff, and bass player Mariko Doi, joined on certain tracks by part-time backing singer Ilana Blumberg, have taken a giant step forward. As Daniel Blumberg sang with his old band, the one he started as a 15-year-old, "This is now and that was then." Or as he sings now, on instantly searing album opener "Get Away": "I can't get this feeling off my mind." Whether they remember the 90s or not, more than a few people could end up saying something similar about Yuck.
Pitchfork
February 15, 2011
Link
8.1
A revival of the 1990s, a decade unusually obsessed with postmodern revivals in fashion and culture, was always inevitable. But it isn't exactly overdue. In fact, over the past few years, the return of bands and styles from the Clinton administration has almost become cliché. Pavement, Dinosaur Jr., the Dismemberment Plan, Jawbox, and even Blink-182 have reunited. Guided By Voices reassembled their "classic lineup." And Weezer recently reprised their beloved mid-90s albums in their entirety at live shows. Among younger artists, the college-rock subculture of the 80s and 90s has been resurgent for some time, whether in the Slumberland-streaked indie pop of the Pains of Being Pure at Heart or Best Coast, the artful squall of No Age, the achingly nostalgic paeans of Deerhunter, the ambling guitar epics of Real Estate, or the slacker punk-pop of Wavves.
There's no escaping it: If you've heard anything about Yuck, it's that this London four-piece loves the 90s. The band's members are very clearly products of the web rather than any particular geography; their self-titled debut evinces tastes that run toward fuzzy indie bands from both sides of the pond. Yes, there's a bit of the wah-pedal guitar violence of Dinosaur Jr., and a little of the lackadaisical detachment of Pavement, but there's also the rich tunefulness of Teenage Fanclub and Velocity Girl, and at times the unadorned resignation of Red House Painters or Elliott Smith. However, like so many artists saddled (fairly or not) with the "revival" tag, from post-punk and garage-rock to nu-disco or neo-soul, Yuck are worth hearing not so much because of who they sound like, but what they've done with those sounds: in this case, make a deeply melodic, casually thrilling coming-of-age album for a generation that never saw Nirvana on "120 Minutes".
As with their best peers in the Fat Possum stable, Yuck distinguish themselves by knowing their way around around a catchy, emotionally evocative song. Sometimes these can be bright and optimistic, almost twee, as in the peppy boy-girl endearments of "Georgia", or the midtempo acoustic yearning of "Shook Down". Elsewhere, they can be gritty and urgent: Screeches of feedback occasionally drown out drowsy vocals on "Holing Out", nicely suiting lyrics about communication problems; likewise, the distortion-blistered repetitions of "The Wall" suggest the Sisyphean efforts they describe. Then there are the heartfelt mopers: the stripped-down comfort offer "Suicide Policeman", the Galaxie 500-meets-"Nightswimming" "Stutter", or the lonely post-breakup jangler "Sunday". Seven-minute closer "Rubber" is the type of gorgeously incantatory slow burner veterans like Yo La Tengo still make (see "More Stars Than There Are in Heaven", from 2009's underrated Popular Songs)-- not to mention Mogwai, who've remixed it-- but too few bands successfully emulate. Add up these different types of tracks, and you have an unusually coherent album-length experience.
If you've heard anything else about Yuck, it might be that two of the band members, singer/guitarist Daniel Blumberg and guitarist Max Bloom, used to play in Cajun Dance Party: ambitious and typically spazzy post-Arctic Monkeys NME faves who issued a Bernard Butler-produced debut album, The Colourful Life, in 2008 on XL. As with that former band, Yuck are occasionally guilty of some awkward lyrics-- the seemingly gratuitous "crucifixion"/"benediction"/"addiction" rhymes on note-bending love ballad "Suck" come to mind-- and it's hard to guess how long they can keep this particular sound going (a Yu[c]k side project offers intriguing hints). But together Blumberg, Bloom, drummer Jonny Rogoff, and bass player Mariko Doi, joined on certain tracks by part-time backing singer Ilana Blumberg, have taken a giant step forward. As Daniel Blumberg sang with his old band, the one he started as a 15-year-old, "This is now and that was then." Or as he sings now, on instantly searing album opener "Get Away": "I can't get this feeling off my mind." Whether they remember the 90s or not, more than a few people could end up saying something similar about Yuck.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Jonathan Richman - O Moon, Queen of Night on Earth
Album Review
Pitchfork
February 14, 2011
Link
7.8
Jonathan Richman's big affectation, if that's even the right word, is the idea that we can escape our affectations. And not just the ones we use to fit in. The things we affect to stand out, too. So as frontman for legendary proto-punks the Modern Lovers, sure, Richman took the nihilistic clang of the Velvet Underground. But he applied it to songs about sobriety ("I'm Straight"), hometown Americana ("Roadrunner"), and old-fashioned courtship ("Girl Friend"). As a cult-beloved solo artist, he has praised his heroes for the same simple reasons a child-- or a wise old man-- might: a crazy sound ("Velvet Underground"), all those pretty colors ("Vincent Van Gogh"), nice dreams ("Salvador Dali"). His live performances, at once puritanically austere and shamelessly entertaining, suggest an especially gifted street musician.
Released last November without much fanfare, the 59-year-old New England native's latest extends an increasingly remarkable series of low-key, mostly acoustic albums for Neil Young's Vapor imprint over the decade-plus since Richman's closest brush with fame (as the twee singer guy in 1998 Farrelly Brothers slapstick There's Something About Mary). This fruitful phase has brought a mature gravity that translates, improbably, as lightness-- Richman takes his fun pretty seriously. On 2004's Not So Much to Be Loved as to Love, a late-career highlight, he reminded us not to spoil the good things in life by talking them to death. On 2008's sporadically sublime Because Her Beauty Is Raw and Wild, he showed how to experience the bad things in life to their fullest, too. Though a little less thematically unified, O Moon, Queen of Night on Earth continues Richman's doomed but noble attempt to dig beneath the surfaces of modern existence, flaunting its relatively few imperfections-- mic sounds, a rushed phrase or two-- as signs of life.
Like its recent predecessors, Richman's new album is a pretty faithful representation of his live show. With little distracting studio gloss, it captures Richman's warbling, Boston-accented croon; his nylon-string, flamenco-tinged acoustic guitar; and longtime drummer Tommy Larkins' stripped-down kit, which he plays with jazzy panache. There are backing vocals from a handful of guests, including wife Nicole Montalbano and singer/songwriter Ólöf Arnalds (of Icelandic band Múm), but these all blend comfortably enough to add to the album's feeling of shared intimacy, rather than subtract from it. Foreign-language lyrics, a staple of Richman's Vapor records, crop up now and then, but the songs are evocative enough to work as interludes if, say, your knowledge of French is limited to "Lady Marmalade"-- and anyway on the reprise of "Sa Voix M'Atisse" JoJo helps you with the words. There's even one of those half-spoken Massachusetts geography songs Richman does from time to time, "Winter Afternoon by B.U. in Boston", though this one's percussive repetitions pale beside the wonderfully vivid "Twilight in Boston", from 1992's essential I, Jonathan.
Billed as a "wee small hours" record, O Moon isn't so much melancholy as it is soaked in a sort of implacable longing. There's the quasi-title track's plaintive appeal against light pollution. Or the two takes of "The Sea Was Calling Me Home", a mournful song that sees in the human fear of conformity little more than our standard fear of death. These songs aren't sad, exactly; they're ambivalent, as any honest look at the world probably ought to be. Even the love songs give both sides of the coin: "I Was the One She Came For" is so sweet and pure that you may find yourself wanting to believe the title isn't meant as a pun (in which case it's hilarious); "It Was Time for Me to Be With Her" depicts an otherworldly encounter, like the Modern Lovers' "Astral Plane" with another three or four decades' worth of perspective.
There are breezy moments, too: "These Bodies That Came to Cavort", an uptempo comment on the absurdity of making our bodies sit down all day, or ignoring them when they tell us to drink less wine; "If You Want to Leave Our Party Just Go", a simple rock'n'roll clap-along that promises, "There's no need to be polite and just stay just for appearances"; and most of all "My Affected Accent", a self-effacing romp that isn't far removed from 2008 non-album single "You Can Have a Cell Phone That's OK But Not Me" and contains an immortal lyric, "I should have been bullied more than I was." In apologizing for his 40-years-ago affectations, Richman raises the question whether he-- or any of us-- can truly avoid other affectations, other things "just for appearances," now or ever. We probably can't; as the philosophers say, it's turtles all the way down. Then again, Richman's career is a testament to the beauty of a lost but noble cause. In one of O Moon's last lines, he asks, "What's life without the search for the darkened, the shadowed, the obscure?" If anyone can find it, it's this guy. It's still a thrill listening to him look.
Pitchfork
February 14, 2011
Link
7.8
Jonathan Richman's big affectation, if that's even the right word, is the idea that we can escape our affectations. And not just the ones we use to fit in. The things we affect to stand out, too. So as frontman for legendary proto-punks the Modern Lovers, sure, Richman took the nihilistic clang of the Velvet Underground. But he applied it to songs about sobriety ("I'm Straight"), hometown Americana ("Roadrunner"), and old-fashioned courtship ("Girl Friend"). As a cult-beloved solo artist, he has praised his heroes for the same simple reasons a child-- or a wise old man-- might: a crazy sound ("Velvet Underground"), all those pretty colors ("Vincent Van Gogh"), nice dreams ("Salvador Dali"). His live performances, at once puritanically austere and shamelessly entertaining, suggest an especially gifted street musician.
Released last November without much fanfare, the 59-year-old New England native's latest extends an increasingly remarkable series of low-key, mostly acoustic albums for Neil Young's Vapor imprint over the decade-plus since Richman's closest brush with fame (as the twee singer guy in 1998 Farrelly Brothers slapstick There's Something About Mary). This fruitful phase has brought a mature gravity that translates, improbably, as lightness-- Richman takes his fun pretty seriously. On 2004's Not So Much to Be Loved as to Love, a late-career highlight, he reminded us not to spoil the good things in life by talking them to death. On 2008's sporadically sublime Because Her Beauty Is Raw and Wild, he showed how to experience the bad things in life to their fullest, too. Though a little less thematically unified, O Moon, Queen of Night on Earth continues Richman's doomed but noble attempt to dig beneath the surfaces of modern existence, flaunting its relatively few imperfections-- mic sounds, a rushed phrase or two-- as signs of life.
Like its recent predecessors, Richman's new album is a pretty faithful representation of his live show. With little distracting studio gloss, it captures Richman's warbling, Boston-accented croon; his nylon-string, flamenco-tinged acoustic guitar; and longtime drummer Tommy Larkins' stripped-down kit, which he plays with jazzy panache. There are backing vocals from a handful of guests, including wife Nicole Montalbano and singer/songwriter Ólöf Arnalds (of Icelandic band Múm), but these all blend comfortably enough to add to the album's feeling of shared intimacy, rather than subtract from it. Foreign-language lyrics, a staple of Richman's Vapor records, crop up now and then, but the songs are evocative enough to work as interludes if, say, your knowledge of French is limited to "Lady Marmalade"-- and anyway on the reprise of "Sa Voix M'Atisse" JoJo helps you with the words. There's even one of those half-spoken Massachusetts geography songs Richman does from time to time, "Winter Afternoon by B.U. in Boston", though this one's percussive repetitions pale beside the wonderfully vivid "Twilight in Boston", from 1992's essential I, Jonathan.
Billed as a "wee small hours" record, O Moon isn't so much melancholy as it is soaked in a sort of implacable longing. There's the quasi-title track's plaintive appeal against light pollution. Or the two takes of "The Sea Was Calling Me Home", a mournful song that sees in the human fear of conformity little more than our standard fear of death. These songs aren't sad, exactly; they're ambivalent, as any honest look at the world probably ought to be. Even the love songs give both sides of the coin: "I Was the One She Came For" is so sweet and pure that you may find yourself wanting to believe the title isn't meant as a pun (in which case it's hilarious); "It Was Time for Me to Be With Her" depicts an otherworldly encounter, like the Modern Lovers' "Astral Plane" with another three or four decades' worth of perspective.
There are breezy moments, too: "These Bodies That Came to Cavort", an uptempo comment on the absurdity of making our bodies sit down all day, or ignoring them when they tell us to drink less wine; "If You Want to Leave Our Party Just Go", a simple rock'n'roll clap-along that promises, "There's no need to be polite and just stay just for appearances"; and most of all "My Affected Accent", a self-effacing romp that isn't far removed from 2008 non-album single "You Can Have a Cell Phone That's OK But Not Me" and contains an immortal lyric, "I should have been bullied more than I was." In apologizing for his 40-years-ago affectations, Richman raises the question whether he-- or any of us-- can truly avoid other affectations, other things "just for appearances," now or ever. We probably can't; as the philosophers say, it's turtles all the way down. Then again, Richman's career is a testament to the beauty of a lost but noble cause. In one of O Moon's last lines, he asks, "What's life without the search for the darkened, the shadowed, the obscure?" If anyone can find it, it's this guy. It's still a thrill listening to him look.
GOP Seeks to ‘Remedy’ Any Dodd-Frank Flaws
News Analysis
Agenda
February 7, 2011
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Agenda
February 7, 2011
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Costco Investors Reject Managers' Pay Vote Frequency
News Analysis
Agenda
February 7, 2011
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Agenda
February 7, 2011
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Apple Board Handling Jobs Illness Correctly: Ex-SEC Chair
News Analysis
Agenda
February 7, 2011
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Agenda
February 7, 2011
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Corporate Tax Code Poses Strange Paradox
News Analysis
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February 7, 2011
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Agenda
February 7, 2011
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Enron Whistle-Blower Doubts SEC Effectiveness
News Analysis
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February 7, 2011
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February 7, 2011
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CFA Institute Releases CD&A Template
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February 7, 2011
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February 7, 2011
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Monday, February 7, 2011
Live Transmission
Feature
Pitchfork
February 7, 2011
Link
"But the people as a whole retain their interest in free speech by radio ... It is the right of the viewers and listeners, not the right of the broadcasters, which is paramount."
--U.S. Supreme Court Justice Byron White, in 1969, writing for the majority in Red Lion Broadcasting Co. v. Federal Communications Commission
"Freedom to publish is guaranteed by the Constitution, but freedom to combine to keep others from publishing is not."
--U.S. Supreme Court Justice Hugo Black, in 1945, writing for the majority in Associated Press v. United States
On October 5, 1998, dozens of unlicensed radio broadcasters marched on Washington, D.C. Their target: the Federal Communications Commission headquarters. But these protesters didn't just carry signs. They hauled puppets. Leading the way was a huge Pinocchio marionette, "Kennardio," named after then-FCC chairman Bill Kennard. And pulling his strings? A TV-headed monster-- the National Association of Broadcasters. "I just chuckled about that, because if anything, I was the NAB's nemesis," says Kennard, now the U.S. Ambassador to the European Union, speaking on the phone from Brussels. "I was creating a new radio service that was seen as a threat to the commercial broadcast industry." That radio service was low-power FM, or LPFM, and it's been a long time coming.
In early January, President Barack Obama signed the Local Community Radio Act of 2010, which is expected to create hundreds, possibly thousands, of noncommercial FM stations. The new law brings into effect much of what Kennard's FCC set in motion more than a decade ago. Like the roughly 800 LPFM stations already in existence, these new entries on the dial will be run by nonprofits: churches, schools, unions, local governments, emergency responders, and other community groups. Their signals must be no stronger than 100 watts, the same as an incandescent light bulb, so a typical broadcast range is only about seven miles in diameter. Unlike all but one current LPFM station, the newcomers will be able to apply for licenses in the top 50 U.S. radio markets-- home to 160 million potential listeners. A dollar may not get you very far in New York City or Los Angeles, but even a weak radio signal carries.
Many questions about how the law actually works will not be answered until the FCC issues final rules, expected later this year. And some of the details can get rather technical: For example, the "contour method," which is a way of measuring potential signal interference. Still, at its most basic, what the Local Community Radio Act does is remove restrictions on LPFM stations that have been in place since the turn of the millennium. And it frees the FCC's hand to issue more licenses for LPFM stations in places where it couldn't before. For some lucky communities-- and the increasingly interconnected independent music world is only one-- the Local Community Radio Act could quietly change the way we think about radio: as an art form, as a medium, and as a public forum.
Pitchfork
February 7, 2011
Link
"But the people as a whole retain their interest in free speech by radio ... It is the right of the viewers and listeners, not the right of the broadcasters, which is paramount."
--U.S. Supreme Court Justice Byron White, in 1969, writing for the majority in Red Lion Broadcasting Co. v. Federal Communications Commission
"Freedom to publish is guaranteed by the Constitution, but freedom to combine to keep others from publishing is not."
--U.S. Supreme Court Justice Hugo Black, in 1945, writing for the majority in Associated Press v. United States
On October 5, 1998, dozens of unlicensed radio broadcasters marched on Washington, D.C. Their target: the Federal Communications Commission headquarters. But these protesters didn't just carry signs. They hauled puppets. Leading the way was a huge Pinocchio marionette, "Kennardio," named after then-FCC chairman Bill Kennard. And pulling his strings? A TV-headed monster-- the National Association of Broadcasters. "I just chuckled about that, because if anything, I was the NAB's nemesis," says Kennard, now the U.S. Ambassador to the European Union, speaking on the phone from Brussels. "I was creating a new radio service that was seen as a threat to the commercial broadcast industry." That radio service was low-power FM, or LPFM, and it's been a long time coming.
In early January, President Barack Obama signed the Local Community Radio Act of 2010, which is expected to create hundreds, possibly thousands, of noncommercial FM stations. The new law brings into effect much of what Kennard's FCC set in motion more than a decade ago. Like the roughly 800 LPFM stations already in existence, these new entries on the dial will be run by nonprofits: churches, schools, unions, local governments, emergency responders, and other community groups. Their signals must be no stronger than 100 watts, the same as an incandescent light bulb, so a typical broadcast range is only about seven miles in diameter. Unlike all but one current LPFM station, the newcomers will be able to apply for licenses in the top 50 U.S. radio markets-- home to 160 million potential listeners. A dollar may not get you very far in New York City or Los Angeles, but even a weak radio signal carries.
Many questions about how the law actually works will not be answered until the FCC issues final rules, expected later this year. And some of the details can get rather technical: For example, the "contour method," which is a way of measuring potential signal interference. Still, at its most basic, what the Local Community Radio Act does is remove restrictions on LPFM stations that have been in place since the turn of the millennium. And it frees the FCC's hand to issue more licenses for LPFM stations in places where it couldn't before. For some lucky communities-- and the increasingly interconnected independent music world is only one-- the Local Community Radio Act could quietly change the way we think about radio: as an art form, as a medium, and as a public forum.
A Floating NAV May Increase Risk It Purports to Solve: Paper
News Article
Ignites
February 1, 2011
Link (subscription required)
Ignites
February 1, 2011
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Apple, Google Test ‘Genius’ Theory of Leadership
News Analysis
Agenda
January 31, 2011
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Agenda
January 31, 2011
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Say on Pay: From Obscurity to Law
News Analysis
Agenda
January 31, 2011
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Agenda
January 31, 2011
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Monsanto Shareholders Back Annual Say on Pay
News Analysis
Agenda
January 31, 2011
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January 31, 2011
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Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Pazz & Jop Voter Comments: From Kanye West to The Suburbs
Feature
Village Voice
Pazz and Jop
January 19, 2011
Link
When Arcade Fire take aim at the shopping malls (“Sprawl II [Mountains Beyond Mountains]”) while simultaneously mocking bohemian cool-hunting (“Rococo”), they’re engaging in a painfully trite contradiction: After all, what bohemian thinker in the past half-century has celebrated shopping malls? (Warhol, maybe?) And what has the bohemian’s instinctive distrust of commercialism done to commercialism except entrench it? (How many products have to be sold to us as embodying rebellion or nonconformity before we realize that our urge to rebel and not conform is how products are sold?) It’s no big revelation to note that today’s mainstream is yesterday’s cutting edge—it doesn’t matter whether we buy Converse or Nike or Vans or some currently small-time shoemaker with a Big Cartel website. Nirvana or Pavement, chillwave or slutwave—sooner or later everyone else catches up, or else it probably wasn’t worth catching up to in the first place.
Village Voice
Pazz and Jop
January 19, 2011
Link
When Arcade Fire take aim at the shopping malls (“Sprawl II [Mountains Beyond Mountains]”) while simultaneously mocking bohemian cool-hunting (“Rococo”), they’re engaging in a painfully trite contradiction: After all, what bohemian thinker in the past half-century has celebrated shopping malls? (Warhol, maybe?) And what has the bohemian’s instinctive distrust of commercialism done to commercialism except entrench it? (How many products have to be sold to us as embodying rebellion or nonconformity before we realize that our urge to rebel and not conform is how products are sold?) It’s no big revelation to note that today’s mainstream is yesterday’s cutting edge—it doesn’t matter whether we buy Converse or Nike or Vans or some currently small-time shoemaker with a Big Cartel website. Nirvana or Pavement, chillwave or slutwave—sooner or later everyone else catches up, or else it probably wasn’t worth catching up to in the first place.
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx - We're New Here
Album Review
SPIN
March 2011
Link
7/10
Slick sonic upstart meets rawboned proto-rap sage
Hip-hop godfather Gil Scott-Heron was 2010's comeback kid, but his I'm New Here was remarkable for the former Rikers inmate's grizzled reflections more than its eclectically rootsy sonics. London up-and-comers the xx won 2010's Mercury Prize, but their debut seduced primarily through Jamie Smith's skeletal, intimate electronics. So strength meets strength on this unusual album-length remix, as Smith's skittering beats and ghostly soul divas put Scott-Heron right where he belongs: in the future. See especially "My Cloud," a former bonus track turned powerful electro-R&B lullaby.
SPIN
March 2011
Link
7/10
Slick sonic upstart meets rawboned proto-rap sage
Hip-hop godfather Gil Scott-Heron was 2010's comeback kid, but his I'm New Here was remarkable for the former Rikers inmate's grizzled reflections more than its eclectically rootsy sonics. London up-and-comers the xx won 2010's Mercury Prize, but their debut seduced primarily through Jamie Smith's skeletal, intimate electronics. So strength meets strength on this unusual album-length remix, as Smith's skittering beats and ghostly soul divas put Scott-Heron right where he belongs: in the future. See especially "My Cloud," a former bonus track turned powerful electro-R&B lullaby.
Shareholder Activism Critiques Have ‘Merit,’ New Database Implies
News Analysis
Agenda
January 24, 2011
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Agenda
January 24, 2011
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Firm Sells Cisco Holdings, Citing Human Rights
News Analysis
Agenda
January 24, 2011
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January 24, 2011
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Fraud Risk Changes in Slow Economy, Former IRS Agent Warns
News Analysis
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January 24, 2011
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January 24, 2011
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Delaware Court to Rule on Poison Pill
News Analysis
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January 24, 2011
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January 24, 2011
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Wachtell Lipton Suggests Evaluating Director Pay Hikes
News Analysis
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January 24, 2011
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January 24, 2011
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SEC Adopts Eight New Audit Risk Standards
News Analysis
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January 24, 2011
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January 24, 2011
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Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Blaqstarr - The Divine EP
Album Review
SPIN
March 2011
Link
8/10
Bluntly moving booties and slyly haunting boudoirs
Charles "Blaqstarr" Smith is still the insular Baltimore club scene's best crossover hope. The ghostly, layered repetition and subwoofer thump of the DJ/producer's 2007 Supastarr EP still remain after a jump to M.I.A.'s label (he also contributed substantially to her last two albums). But on this follow-up, Blaqstarr artfully chops and manipulates his own vocals -- a soulful rasp, an Auto-Tuned robot cry -- while integrating more organic instrumentation that owes a debt to indie aesthetics. Eerie, empty spaces and guitars that range from bluesy acoustic to jet-engine distorted help transform The Divine EP into a mesmerizing, nuanced seduction.
SPIN
March 2011
Link
8/10
Bluntly moving booties and slyly haunting boudoirs
Charles "Blaqstarr" Smith is still the insular Baltimore club scene's best crossover hope. The ghostly, layered repetition and subwoofer thump of the DJ/producer's 2007 Supastarr EP still remain after a jump to M.I.A.'s label (he also contributed substantially to her last two albums). But on this follow-up, Blaqstarr artfully chops and manipulates his own vocals -- a soulful rasp, an Auto-Tuned robot cry -- while integrating more organic instrumentation that owes a debt to indie aesthetics. Eerie, empty spaces and guitars that range from bluesy acoustic to jet-engine distorted help transform The Divine EP into a mesmerizing, nuanced seduction.
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