Album Review: Good & Evil: A Well Put-Together, Yet Somewhat Lackluster Release

Here's a pretty straightforward review of Tally Hall's new album, Good & Evil. Color coded by person a-like so: Joe Hawley, Rob Cantor, Andrew Horowitz, Zubin Sedghi, and Ross Federman (not actually coded).

Since the 2009 announcement of a second album from the pop/rock band Tally Hall, I have waited not-so-patiently through a series of unfortunate events that set back the release date time and time again. Now, finally, I have the album, titled Good & Evil, and I have to admit, I'm not entirely sure how to feel about it.

For those who don't know the band, Tally Hall came out with their debut, Marvin's Marvelous Mechanical Museum in 2004, which was chock-full of flowing melodies, eclectic styles, and silly, silly lyrics.

So, so silly

This new release retains, at the very least, the musicality of MMMM. One of the interesting things about this band is their common use of four- and five-part harmonies throughout songs, and that certainly carries over in G&E. Additionally, there many songs that have unique melodies with some absolutely brilliant hooks (“&”, “Turn The Lights Off”, and “In The Twilight” are good examples).

And yet, despite this, the release didn't really sit that well with me, and it took me a very long time to realize why that was. I recognized that the band has lost a great deal of its lightheartedness in the past seven years. MMMM is a fluffy, dorky romp, without much direction, but most of all, it was fun.

G&E, on the other hand, is much harder, meaner, and darker, both in lyric and accompaniment. Fans who loved Tally Hall for songs like “Two Wuv” and “Banana Man” might be a little taken aback by lyrics such as “Everybody wants to get evil tonight/But all good devils masquerade under the light” (“Turn The Lights Off”) or “I am the willing victim of a cannibal/She rips out my bones like I'm an animal” (“Cannibal”).

But, as most that know me would testify, I actually generally tend toward the macabre. So that wasn't it. I realized, after thinking long and hard about it, that what was really bothering me about this new release was they seem to be taking themselves way too seriously. I feel like, between releasing MMMM and recording G&E, these five boys decided they wanted to be a Real Rock Band, and that that meant shedding a great deal of their silliness.

However, at the same time, they lost a lot of what made their debut so fiercely original. There was a fire, a life, a... something that made that album really pop. While the lyrics and melodies and harmonies are all still there, the energy just is not. Maybe that's a difference in mixing or maybe they're trying to appear more mature by cutting back some.

Whatever the reason, it's not a sound that's going to last them. If they can't find a way to keep life in their music, they're going to have some issues. Unfortunately, this happens with a lot of bands, losing their spark after the first or second album.

So the thing I'm curious about is, assuming there will be a third release, where are they going with the feel of their music? The way I see it, one of two things needs to happen: either they will stick with their more serious feel, in which case they need to find a way to bring more life to the music; or they will lighten back up. If neither thing happens, I feel like the boys might fizzle.

There are some seriously solid tracks on this album (“&”, “Turn the Lights Off”, “Cannibal”, “Out in the Twilight”, (starts at 1:00) and “Misery Fell” are my top five), and even the weaker tracks are still extremely listenable. On top of that, it's a really tight album, with a nice flow that resolves a lot of the issues of that kind from the first album. I just hope for the sake of the Tally Hall boys that they find a way to put some more of that old spark into their music again.

Thanks for reading,
Til next review of an album you've never heard of,
Amanda.

Coffee Drinker's Lament - A Diagram

Talking to Yourself: Not Just For Hobos Anymore!

So I have a problem.
I guess I had it before now but I think it may be getting worse.
Or maybe it's just that I'm paying more attention to it.
I'm not sure which is worse.

My problem is that I have a tendency to talk to myself in public.
It's not just in public, of course, it's just I talk to myself all the time and sometimes forget to shut the hell up if there are people around.

Now thankfully most people don't notice.
I'm generally pretty quiet regardless, so I can usually bank on nobody having heard.
But sometimes there are those instances where there's no way they didn't hear.

(sidenote: All of these have happened to me, almost word for word)

So what do you do?
They're three inches away, and either looking right at you or are the only other person in a small room FILLED WITH TILE.

Way I see it, there's three options you can take:

1. Try and play it off like you were starting a conversation. (WARNING: Severe risk for crushed self-confidence and self-loathing; PROCEED WITH CAUTION)

 

2. Pretend you weren't in fact talking to yourself. (Only works if in enclosed space--otherwise YOU WILL LOOK CRAZIER)

Has highest success rate

3. Just fuckin' roll with it.

 

 

Doctor Who: SO BRITISH.

I have a confession to make.

I am a Doctor Who fan.

I know that this is a fairly controversial subject in some circles, but I must be firm in my love for this show.

Yes, sometimes it's silly, sometimes it's cheesy, sometimes it's far fetched.
But that's just why it's so fantastic.

I mean, seriously, are those egg beaters?

It is one of the most charming, most entertaining, and most fiercely original shows on television today, and I hope it keeps up the good work for years to come.

Now, I was watching Doctor Who earlier today and something struck me. The thought has occurred to me before but never as fully formed as today.
The thought: there's a certain British ethnocentrism to this show you just don't see a whole lot in British entertainment that is very refreshing.

It's not uncommon to see American ethnocentrism.
To see a drama or scifi or fantasy show/movie in which EVERY important event just so HAPPENS to ALWAYS take place in either New York or Los Angeles, or worse, some Podunk town with a population of 50 (*cough*Buffy*cough*).

Drama drama drama..

And Americans always save the day and Americans always come out as the heroes/awesome guys at the end of it.

Which is perhaps why I find it so refreshing, and a little bit hilarious, that this show does the same thing but for London.

Why is it that aliens just HAPPEN to keep landing smack dab in the middle of London, every single time?
Even though New York, Tokyo, Paris, hell, even Berlin are just as big or bigger?
And in the episode I just watched, the Prime Minister is suddenly taking the reins and claiming to be the representative for the entire world?

For that matter, take a look at the American characters on this show: Captain Jack Harkness, the biggest, loudest, most self-absorbed jackass in the universe (literally), and the President, who, whenever mentioned or shown, is always the abrasive, loud-mouthed, war-crazed idiot that would screw everyone over if given half a chance.

I'm not criticizing, mind you.
Because we do it worse than anyone.
But most British shows and movies I've seen either self-deprecate or are extremely humble about England's place in the world.
There's always a sort of "oh, don't mind us, we're not here to make a fuss" vibe around most British entertainment that Doctor Who proudly shrugs off.

I guess the thing that made it really stick out to me was when the thing that revived both the TARDIS and the Doctor was that classic British staple, a simple cup of tea.
And not only did they point out how insanely British of a thing that was, but they actually carried the plot point out loudly and proudly.

I guess in that way it's almost American in its Britishness.
Maybe that's why it's such a hit over here.
It's unrelentingly British, but it's got just enough American that we can relate as well.

I'm not really going anywhere with this, just a thought.

Anyway, as always, thanks for reading!

Yours,
Amanda

Murder Party: Every... Body's... Gonna... Die...

Ok so, last night some friends and I got together for Shitty Horror Movie Night, because if there's anything better than a good horror movie, it's a shitty horror movie. They're fun for their cheesiness, overblown plotlines, bad acting, bad filming, etc, and I have a deep passion for them.

First we watched a gem called Flesh Eating Ghouls From Outer Space which was not so much a horror movie as a high schooler's homemade fifteen minute puppet show about murderous aliens who destroy the world and are fed Twinkies.

Oh yeah and it's a musical.

I've seen some awful movies in my time and I found this piece of shit difficult to sit through. Like, my ironic enjoyment of it was stretched to its very limit with this thing.

On an entertainment scale I'd probably have to give it a 4/10. Because there were a couple moments, buuuuuut unless you're really dedicated to shitty cinema (*raises hand*) I wouldn't waste my time.

After that we decided to watch Murder Party, mostly because the guy who'd seen it already promised that it was actually good.

Firstly I feel it necessary to admit my standards were just dirt low by then, so take my enthusiasm with a grain of salt.

But personally I was incredibly impressed by this film.

Despite the silly name, Murder Party is a surprisingly well-made movie that takes itself seriously only in the bits where it mattered.

The director described it as "Breakfast Club but with chainsaws and hard drugs" but I felt like it was more Tarantino meets Kevin Smith and they get together and double team Sam Raimi.

Which I guess kinda gets the same effect.

But still.

The plot is a stereotypically simple one: Lonely guy finds an invite to a "murder party" (see what they did there?) and decides to attend out of boredom (and because his cat, Sir Lancelot, refuses to get out of his chair).

This plunges him into a nightmare world where dimwitted hipster art-major-flunkies vie desperately for the attention their friend Alexander through MurderArt™ (i.e. they plan to kill the main character for the sake of art) and also take entirely too many drugs while doing it.

Meanwhile, our hero, who's almost as idiotic as his captors, is sitting in his goofy-ass cardboard knight costume and continually fucking up his escape plans with sheer incompetence.

Most of the movie feels like a parody of horror movies, because it constantly takes horror stereotypes and either tips them on their heads or transforms them into Shaun-of-the-Dead-esque gags. Throughout, there are some truly hilarious points that really display the talents of both the writers and the actors.

But when it comes time for the movie to actually be a legitimate horror movie, it really does hunker down and deliver in an incredibly satisfying way.

And it's not just the gore/special effects, which are by themselves -very- impressive. When a character's face gets burnt off, the makeup is so good I honestly found it very difficult not to look away.

But it's got the suspense aspect as well. You're really terrified for the main character by the end of it, because the events are set up so well, and the way they unfold keeps you glued to the screen til the very end.

On top of all this, the movie is beautifully shot.

The director has a real eye for what makes an aesthetically pleasing shot, whether it's of the hero making pumpkin bread or somebody's head being ripped apart with a chainsaw.

So kudos to that, too.

Now, I purposefully left out plot-related spoilers because I really, truly want everyone and anyone who reads this to go out and see this film.

And if you can, pay for it.

The guys that made this movie are really amazing people that deserve the money.

Also, if you get a chance, get your hands on a version with the special features and watch the Making Of short. The story behind this movie is genuinely heart-warming and inspirational, especially to anyone who's even vaguely considering film-making as a career.

If you like senseless gore, making fun of pretentious hipsters, watching people take hard drugs, or seeing a middle aged man running around in a stupid looking cardboard costume, this movie is for you. If not, I'm not really sure why you're reading this in the first place.

That's all I got.

Thanks for reading,

Yours,

Amanda

Lyric Reciting: An opportunity to be douchebags.. or something more?

(Shitty drawings done by yours truly)

I want to talk today about a phenomenon I've noticed, not only in others, but in myself as well.

Now, I go to a lot of concerts and about half of them turn out to be pretty hipster. I'm not talking "Dude, this band is so underground there's only five other people here, shit yeah" hipster because I have neither the time, money, or patience to mess with that Stierscheisse.

I guess you'd call the bands I see Mainstream Hipster.

Bands like They Might Be Giants, Decemberists, Band of Horses, Tally Hall...

Not exactly well known, but the average person knows maybe one song or has at least vaguely heard of them.

I've noticed this phenomenon before, but it stuck out particularly to me at the Decemberists concert I attended last week. As I looked at the crowd around me, I noticed that an inordinate portion of the people were singing along. And I'm not talking the singles or Best Of, I'm talking EVERY lyric to EVERY song, including those from the album that had come out a mere three weeks earlier.

And I realized I was doing the same thing.

I feel like I should put this out there before moving on: I am a lover of lyrics.

I adore them.

I don't feel like I know a song unless I can repeat the lyrics, including the inflections put on each word by the singer, and often all of the harmonies involved as well.

I am a lady who enjoys intimacy with her music.

I've never felt there was anything wrong with that.

But suddenly, when I saw that so many other people were doing the same thing, I started to wonder if maybe it was kind of a wonky thing to do.

I mean, here we are, paying twenty five bucks, crunched in a tiny standing area after having waited for half an hour (longer for some) in RIDICULOUSLY cold weather (especially wearing chucks, which probably 80% of the crowd had, because you don't wear boots to a concert), and all we can focus on is that Colin fucked up Eli The Barrow Boy by switching the verses up.

I will make a confession.

For the two weeks leading up to this concert, I listened to very little else but the Decemberists.

What I did is nothing short of study for this concert.

I brushed up on songs I hadn't heard in a while, reminded myself of those twistyturnytricky lyrics Colin likes to throw in, crammed on the EPs and songs I didn't like as much, and speedmemorized as many King Is Dead songs as I could.

That was when I realized, the concert was like a test for me. And, apparently, for others.

We weren't being tested by Colin, because not only does he not give a shit (and also I don't think he particularly likes when people sing along) but also it's not like he can see from up there.

No, we study hard and stress out over every syllable of that music so we can demonstrate to our own fellow hipsters just what good of fans we are.

Part of it is that bands like the Decemberists aren't exactly easy to dance to.

And a mosh is basically out of the question.

Though it might be pretty funny.

Pretty much you have the head nod or the toe bounce (i.e. the prairie dog). 

So lyric reciting is one way to be involved in the concert. But that doesn't really explain it entirely.

Maybe it's the threat of mainstream that makes us do it.

I will admit, when I heard Down By The Water on the local soft rock station, a tiny part of me died a little. Don't get me wrong, I love sharing my music and I fully support the Decemberists' right to earn money and well-deserved attention.

But that doesn't stop me from secretly wanting to go up to certain fans and snottily tell them that I think KID is pandering to an Americana audience and that I think they were most enlightened on Castaways and Cutouts.

So maybe it's us hipsterjerks desperately clinging to any shred of legitimacy we can lay our hands on, and so we memorize ALL of the songs, especially those little obscure ones, just on the offchance they play it so we can say "Omigod THIS one, YES!" and feel good about ourselves as we mouth the words and watch the blank stares on those so-called fans around us.

Part of it might also just be the challenge, almost the sport, of it, especially for those like me that aren't particularly good at most things.

Bands like the Decemberists and They Might Be Giants that, by now, have pretty extensive discographies (I own just under 100 songs for the former and over 350 songs for the latter) unwittingly issue a challenge to their listeners.

Something along the lines of "If we can write and perform this many songs, surely, if you care about us, you can memorize them" and, even if we don't especially like certain tunes, we dutifully dedicate ourselves to the task.

Just because we can.

And then there's the theory that we just love the music that much.

I like to think that's at least the biggest part, though I can't deny the rest is part of it.

When I listen to the Decemberists, or any of my favorite bands, the music just moves me in a way I can't quite describe. I want to live in those melodies and stories woven by the words injected into them and never leave, but of course the song has to end and it's not quite the same to just play the same song on repeat.

So I do the next best thing, which is to immerse myself in the music, make it become a part of me, and in some small way, become a part of the music as well. I don't ever have to live without Odalisque or Yankee Bayonet or any of my favorite Decemberist tunes because they're in my head permanently.

When I go to a concert, it's not so much that I'm singing along, but more that I can't not.

I want so, so badly to be a part of the magic that's happening onstage that I can't help but to sing along and involve myself in the only way I know how.

And I like to think that's what the other hipsterjerks around me were doing as well.

I like to think that their adoration of Colin Meloy's music was so all-encompassing, so beautiful and loud and pure that they couldn't contain it and so their mouths formed the words that fantastic man penned and shared with us simply so they could feel the music just a little more.

That, or they were douchebags.

Whatever.

Anyway, that's all I wanted to say.

Thanks for reading,

Yours,

Amanda.

Thank You, Happy Birthday: A Trippy Trip of Trippiness

For my first entry, I thought I'd review the new album, Thank You, Happy Birthday, by the band Cage The Elephant.

Because I can.

(Somewhat related illustrations were done by the lovely Benjamin Abbott)

I wanna start off by saying I am really impressed by this album.

I think it's a bold move on the band's part by neither making a carbon copy of their self-titled, nor making twelve songs that mirror Back Against The Wall and Ain't No Rest For The Wicked, which garnered them some serious attention.

No, they took a freakin' left turn out of nowhere with this thing and came up with something entirely original, and I respect them to no end for that.

Now for the album.

Always Something

This thing is a ride, if nothing else.

They start out with the angry, violent, aggressive Always Something that makes you feel somewhat like you're being forced to crawl on hand and knee through a thunderstorm of acid rain.

What I mean by that is it's unrelenting and mean as hell.

Excellently crafted, but man.

Aberdeen
Aberdeen is a bit nicer in tone, but still feels pretty aggressive. It's a bit like they helped you to your feet and gave you an umbrella, but then kicked you in the pants to keep you trudging through the acid storm.

Indy Kidz

Now this song is just hilarious. Here's where Schultz takes the opportunity to fuck with his audience, especially the scenesters who arrived the same time they hit the Top 40s.

So now you're escorted out of the acid rain and through a giant funhouse full of warped mirrors and strobe lights, and about halfway through you start to really get overwhelmed and actually kind of annoyed.

Which I'm pretty sure was the intended effect.

But still.

Shake Me Down

So after the essential aural hell that is the first three songs, the band decides to give you a break with this happy little radio-friendly tune.

Which is very nice of them.

Because now you exit the creepy-ass funhouse and the acid rain has ended and everything's blue and gold and just feelin' good.

This song is just one big fuzzy ball of awesome.

2024

Aaaaaaand then we have 2024, which is just indescribable.

But I'll attempt.

It's like some teeny-bopper band from the 60s made love with the grungiest of grunge bands from the 90s and the resultant fucked up mutant baby took a hit of heroin.

That is this song.

As a second metaphor and continuing with our journey thing I've got going, it's like you're still in the rolling grassy hills and shit from Shake Me Down, but now you're running as fast as you can and even though your chest is burning and your legs are like rubber, you just go on running with everything you've got.

Sell Yourself

The only thing I can say about this track, is GAAAAAAH.

It sounds like something is repeatedly breaking over and over.

In this song, it's like you've come upon two enormous fucking rotating boulders with only a sliver of space for you to get through.

And oh yeah the boulders have little shards of glass covering them.

Good luck with that.

Rubber Ball

So, you've gotten through the big-ass-glass-covered boulders and you're bruised and crushed and bleeding from several places and you're lying beaten on the ground.

And finally, finally, you get a damn break.

Rubber Ball is the band taking pity on you, picking you up gently and laying you on a giant bed made of jello and tucking a big marshmallow pillow under your head.

Right Before My Eyes

By the end of that song, they gently wake you with the pleasantly poppy Right Before My Eyes.

It's the perfect follow-up and gets you back on your feet, with the bad feelings garnered by Indy Kidz, Sell Yourself and 2024 softly melting from your mind.

Around My Head

Now we're back on the road with Around My Head, heading down that same road we were on before, but this time we get to stroll lightly, really taking in the sights.

Just pleasantness here. Enjoy it while it lasts.

Sabertooth Tiger

Because yeah fuck you, we're going again. Except Sabertooth Tiger is good old-fashioned grunge without the "dear god why are they doing this to my ears" element that the all of the harder songs thus far have had to at least some extent. A somewhat unremarkable track, it's still freakin' fun to rock out to, especially if nobody's around to see you.

The... uh the journey metaphor doesn't really fit this one... :/

Japanese Buffalo

Japanese Buffalo is just, oh my goodness, so good.

The song's energy just draws you in and makes it practically impossible not to sit up and take notice. Then it has the breakdown that wraps you in golden light and just makes you smile.

This is, in my opinion, what you've been journeying for through the entire album.

After the fucked up auditory trek they've sent you on, this is your Val Halla, full of motherfucking cherubs and unicorns and a big ass golden castle and there's these spotlights all pointed at you.

Because you are the star.

It's you.

Congratufuckinlations for getting through it.

It was totally freakin worth it, wasn't it?

That was rhetorical, it so was.

Flow/Right Before My Eyes Revisited

Now, as a reward, you get the serene and beautiful Flow, which is just like you got through that bigass castle and found the ocean beyond. You dive in and swim off into the sunset.

And it's awesome.

And then, as almost an afterthought, you get a nice, extra-cooled down Right Before My Eyes, just because. That's you finding your own little happy island with a hammock all set up for you and you recline as the light of day fades to black and inky night.

Okay! That's it.

Like I said, I just have the utmost respect for these guys for really taking a leap with this album and going way, way above and beyond their first album. I'm so excited to see what's in store for this band.

Til next time,

Yours,

Amanda.