(Editor’s note:  Saturday is supposed to be lazy; it’s been in the title of the Saturday posts for like two months.  Brian is supposed to be able to kick back, shut off the critical and regulatory functions of his brain and lob some cool live tracks into the internet.  No marathon album listening, no hunting for synonyms for “good,” no attempts to impress with unique reasoning or inflated vocabulary, just one day a week where it’s live tracks, some bullshit and not much else.  It gives Brian a chance to spend time with his wife, mow the lawn and so forth.  This week?  The Citizen Dick mail box was overflowing with records, many of which we’ve yet to comment on.  Kevin swung by Brian’s classroom at the end of the day on Friday, pulled a Lumbergh and said, “Um.  Yeah.  I’m going to need you to review three albums for Saturday.”  There goes Friday night.  Because we love you, you get actual work from Brian today, instead of the usual laziness.  Savor it, because it’s back to slacking in seven days.)

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -  – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - -

First up on this (not at all) Lazy Saturday is another canonical act’s new record.  I’ve been slowly warming up to reviewing material from living legends (that Bob Mould review was a lot easier to write than The Boston Spaceships review), but it’s still a bit of a challenge to wrap the brain around taking a critical stance on a band like Sonic Youth.  In reality, I have zero credentials to comment on anything that Kim Gordon, Thurston Moore, Lee Ranaldo, Steve Shelly and (new member) Mark Ibold put into the world; if they recorded two hours of the sound of them pissing against a wall, I’d have to tell you it was good. (God knows what’s going to happen to me when Malkmus puts out a new record that I have to review.  My head might explode.)  That said, one of the treats of having a music blog is getting the chance to write about bands that shaped the way you view the world (musically and in general).  The first Sonic Youth I ever heard was a live version of  “Wildflower” in the Tibetan Freedom Concert album.  Hearing that made me hunt down A Thousand Leaves, which sent me, inevitably to Daydream Nation and beyond.  If there’s a better experimentalish song than “Total Trash,” I don’t think I’ve ever heard it.  It’s nothing special to love Sonic Youth, but I do; as such, once I got over the crippling stage fright, it’s nice to be able to say things about their new record.

First off, The Eternal is good.  I don’t see a lot of reason to get all hyperbolic here. (It’s Sonic Youth; how much do I need to talk you into it?) Right of the bat, “Sacred Trickster” signals that the band still has chops to spare.  The guitar sound is still awesome, Gordon still wails, and things are still complex and tuneful and difficult all at once.  This is the band’s first release on Matador after a good long while on Geffen and they’ve added a new bass player, so you might expect the sound to be both fresh and liberated.  It is.  There’s some wandering, some spaciness and a ton of sonic flourishes that stick in your ear.  “Sacred Trickster,” maybe referencing mythological pranksters like Loki and Coyote, is a cool title to introduce the record (great stuff on Trickster myths here); Sonic Youth dance in the border land where the Trickster figure flourishes: they’re arty, but accesible, serious, but willing to kid, sexy and dorky, in short, they’re light and dark at once.  This dichotomy is one of the principal reasons they’ve been so interesting for so long.  The Eternal dances with those contradictions throughout and the listener is the one reaping the rewards of all of the complexity.

It’s tough to pick songs that stand out, at least partially because the album is about the album not singles or some bullshit.  “Anti-Orgasm” has a sneaky guitar line that’s insanely catchy and stellar, brain twisting lyrical content.  The alternately breezy and atonal introduction to “Antenna” is one of my favorite moments on the record and the rest of that track is no slouch either.  The aggressive crunch of “Poison Arrow” makes it a good track to play in the car on the way to a hockey game.  It would be easy to write some praise for most (if not all) of the tracks on The Eternal, but it’s faster for all of us if you just listen to the whole thing.  You’ll be happy.

I went the fan boy route and bought the pre-order package at Music Saves, securing a limited edition live LP in the process.  For whatever reason, I didn’t want to go the press route and ask Matador for an advance copy to review.  (I’m reviewing the live stream that came with the pre-order.  The record officially hits stores on June 9, so you won’t be able to snag it for a while if you didn’t follow my lead on the pre-order thing.)  I think I wanted to buy the album because it feels good to give my money to Sonic Youth.  They make art.  I’d feel like a tool if I just sent an e-mail to their publicist or whatever and got the record in a complementary fashion.  This encapsulates a lot of my feelings about Sonic Youth; as long as they’re pumping out art, I’ll support it.  It’s nice to have a forum to do that from that isn’t a bar stool.

“Sacred Trickster” – Sonic Youth

Grab Sonic Youth at insound.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -  – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - -

Casper & the Cookies are the Athens, Georgia based brainchild of Jason NeSmith.  They started pumping out records in 1998 and have seen a rotating cast of musicians spend time with the band (in fact, NeSmith’s only constant companion has been Kay Stanton).  NeSmith rang up some cred during his time with Of Montreal, but the Casper & the Cookies albums continue to be the vehicle for most of his mammoth creative output.  Modern Silence is a rambling tour of a slew of musical genres, spanning eighteen tracks and more than an hour.  It’s a bit of a jarring listen, in that there’s something different going on in nearly every track, resulting in a kind of whirlwindish feel to the record, but NeSmith, Stanton and company wear a lot of hats well; the record is ambitious in scope and there are more hits than misses, but at times, you kind of wish Casper & the Cookies would pick a musical space to work in and stick to it.

Indicative of this kitchen sink approach to record making are the first three tracks on Modern Silence. “Little King” is an almost too straight pop song, with sing-a-long lyrics and jangly guitar hooks.  It is easy to understand and wildly accessible.  Mrs. Citizen walked by and asked if it was a cover of a Madonna song. (It’s not, but you get the point.)  Track two, “You Love Me” keeps some of those pop chops, but adds a dreamier element and some crunchy alternative rock power chords.  The third song “Pete Erchick Bicentennial Service Area” is a full on psychedelic detour, with manipulated speech on tape, trebly swirling guitars, spacey keyboard effects and freaky drum hits.  In the space of three cuts and twelve minutes, Casper & the Cookies run through thirty years or so of influences.  It’s a neat trick, but can be disorienting.  It’s also how the majority of the rest of the album proceeds.  You can catch tracks where the band loops back on themselves (“Sunshine Girl” has the pop vibe, but with an almost gospel twist, “Moldy Flower” has the alt-rock roots, “Your Eyes of Gold” has the spacey psychedlia), but, for the most part, the album is about exploring the directions that the band can drift to.  It’s a scattershot approach that stands a good chance of appealing to a wide array of listeners.  If you dig the pop sensibility of “Sunshine Girl” (probably my favorite song on the record), you’re going to love six or seven songs.  If you’re more into the guitar-driven, slightly grimy bits of “You Love Me,” you’re going to love six or seven different songs.  And so on.

I’ve only been living with this record since Monday, but I’m thinking that it’s going to get better with more spins.  Walking away from it for a period and returning to it is going to help make conections between these seemingly disparate songs, maybe.  It also might be the world’s best “shuffle” record.  You’re really getting three or four “bands” on this one record, which gives it a chameleonic ability to sound good next to a lot of other records.  I any event, the creative willingness to take some risks is certainly commendable on Modern Silence. It’s worth your attention.

“Little King” – Casper & the Cookies

Score Casper and the Cookies at insound.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -  – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - -

Last on the docket today is British Expeditionary Force, a collaboration between producing/song-writing whiz person Justin Lockey (I was going to go “whiz kid,” but I have no idea how old he is) and vocalist Aid Burrows (He’s a dude.  I’m guessing it’s short for Aiden.).  The record was constructed in an interesting manner, as Lockey crafted all of the musical parts of the songs and shipped them to Burrows, who then wrote lyrics and sang over the tracks.  The two did not meet face-to-face at all during the recording process.  This kind of trick is fascinating to me, in that I can barely make dinner reservations without having a face-to-face conversation with somebody.  If I tried to record an instrumental track and mail it to someone else for vocals, I probably wouldn’t get past the first bar of the first song (ignoring, of course, the fact that I can’t play any instruments).

Regardless of the intriguing nature of its production, Chapter One: A Long Way From Home is a good listen; the “Chapter One” convention stems from Lockey’s intention to release three, sequential conceptual albums from the band, of which this is the first.  There’s a definite electronic edge to the album, but it’s more in the Odawas vein than, say, the horrible dance music vein.  Burrows’ voice is warm and soothing and goes a long way to mediating some of the more metallic sounds on the record.  The centerpiece of the album, to my ears, is the seven minute “A Long Way From Home,” which features compelling vocals from Burrows and a bitching drum loop from Lockey.  There are some frenetic percussion freakouts in front of a plinking piano and some wispy chords, while Burrows sings wistful lyrics about disconnection and loneliness.  It makes for a solid track that I can’t seem to stop hitting repeat on.

For the most part, the longer tracks on Chapter One are the ones that stand out for me.  The album’s closer “All Those Demons” stretches for seven minutes and takes that time to develop some interesting sonic ideas.  It’s got a slow-building aspect that takes a while to get moving, but is intriguing for that deliberateness.  I’d rather make oatmeal in a slow cooker than in the microwave, so I’m a little biased in this area, but when these two dudes have some room to work, good things happen.  Of the shorter tracks, “Back of the Hand,” which you can hear below, is a winner, with some of the meandering keyboard work that makes the record tick.

Chapter One is on the short side, but its quality has me excited for Chapter Two. In the time before it’s release, I’m looking for a partner to build a sailboat with me through the mail.  I don’t want to meet, just ship parts of the boat back and forth to each other by UPS.  Get in touch if you’re interested.  It can’t be any harder than making a record the way British Expeditionary Force did, right?

“Back of the Hand” – British Expeditionary Force

Snag British Expeditionary Force at insound.