A friend pointed me to this article about the significant lack of change on the creative landscape over the last 20 years. Essentially, once we hit post-modernism we ceased to invent creatively interesting artwork, architecture, fashion, and–perhaps most relevant to the causes and passions of Colossal Youth–music. The watchword of the creative sector over last 20 years has been “innovation” rather than “invention.” Inventing became for the scientists, innovating is for the artists.

Inventing implies creating something new while innovation connotes improving an existing product. Our technology has changed vastly with new inventions like mp3 players significantly altering our consumption. Our methods for consuming art and entertainment are different–the screens are larger, more vivid and intense and each song is handily available just a few clicks away, but the music we consume isn’t that different.

One explanation is that we’re overexposed, our ears can access just about anything if we try hard enough. Music recorded on cellphones in Saharan Africa? Got it. Japanese psych records from the 1960s? totally in the bag. A sole-existing 78 from Charlie Patton? bingo. A dirty recording of the last surviving Castrato? that voice is insane. THANKS INTERNET! There’s no need to try to make our own sounds when we can get any sound we want. Some of the most distinct and unusual records are odd 78s from remote, isolated regions of the Appalachians, primarily because they lacked access to the popular music of other parts. Their insularity fostered invention. The Pangaea effect of modern music access means that no one is isolated and because we have access to everything, it’s all old hat. It’s all been done before. All we can do is add up our influences into an equation of musicology.

Every band is a tribute to their influences. Music is little more than adding up and subtracting and dividing elements of what came before. You can easily pin-point the past in many of my and your favorite musicians right now. The most inventive we can get anymore is probably seen in the maniac drumming of Zach Hill, but who can sit around and listen to a song that is nothing but big-dicked egomaniaical percussive controlled chaos? It’s an intensely indulgent Buddy Rich without the charming pizzazz–the turtleneck got swapped for a loose-fitting knitster hat. Sure, it’s cool if you’re into that sort of thing…but you have to be into that sort of thing.

And only a pocket full of people are.

Mainstream music in particular suffers from the complete dearth of innovation more evidently than non-mainstream music. We’ve somehow settled into being okay with acts that have played the same song for the last 12 years (look at me when I’m talking to you, Nickelback). The pop groups of the 1960s and 1970s lasted maybe 5 years if they were tough, and solo breakaway careers only happened to the luckiest (Diana Ross, Michael Jackson). Sure, the Rolling Stones have been playing the same arena rock riffs since 1973, but they earned their credit, by being a part of a veritable cultural shock. What was once extreme and outlandish has been neutered by overexposure and the general stagnation that can occur by staying together for over 10 years. But at least they did the required minimum to stay relevant in a culture that willfully changed. In only 5 years they went from playing R&B ballads like “Time is on my Side” to balls-out Rock n Roll intensity with “Gimme Shelter.” In 5 Years Britney Spears went from “…Baby One more Time” to “Toxic” and the only thing that really changed was her cup size.


Even Radiohead, the band many a music fan has heralded as the closest thing we can get to the Beatles has ceased to be interesting since 2000’s Kid A, the last drowsy, disarming nod before they slipped into the comfortable sleep of mixed percussion and nord organs galore. In their first 8 years they went from angsty alt-rock on Pablo Honey to a quaalude deep sea dive on Kid A. And in the following 12 years? From one IDM-rock record to the next, playing a game of rote musical hopscotch. And how do you distinguish Thom Yorke’s solo stuff from Radiohead? you don’t.


But more importantly how Radiohead can never be the Beatles despite being a talented ensemble of personalities, they were never all that popular. Yeah, they’ve made waves in the critical community, but Americans read Cosmopolitan and Sports Illustrated and watch How I met Your Mother and Two and a Half Men. If what critics said actually mattered, we might be in a different situation. But as it is, Thom Yorke may be the scrawny lazy-eyed dreamboat to a 32 year old Community College Biology teacher, but he was never a catch to the proto-tweens of 1990s.

No, instead we get to cycle through a series of dreamy eyes and haircuts: Joey McIntyre, Taylor Hanson, Justin Timberlake, Justin Bieber. And with recent attempts to revive their careers on the first two, and the desperation of the latter two to linger in the limelight, we won’t be allowed to leave the past behind if present momentum is any indication.

The last hope we had to spread our obsessive good taste to the bumbling masses was Nirvana, and we all know how that ended. Kurt Cobain dead in 94, Courtney Love terrorizing MTV, Dave Grohl churning out generic, inoffensive radio-ready alt rock and Krist Novaselic became a State Committeeman. Major labels jumped on any promise during that time, Sonic Youth hung out on Capital for years with no damage to street cred, but no significant seepage to the public ear.

Similarly, The Arcade Fire can win a Grammy because they do have the musical skill and slightly otherworldly appearance to win hearts and minds from an institution seeking to highlight songwriting and production–because they’re actually pretty good at that (despite my personal feelings towards Winn Butler and crew, i can concede those simple facts). Grammys aren’t a popularity contest, it’s a panel decision. Usually their decision only kind of reflects what people out there actually listen to.

My fellow millennials seem to have no issues with soldiering on, being completely comfortable with manufactured taste. Late 1990s and early 2000s reality shows like Making the Band (prominitently featuring Boy Band machine, Lou Perlman) made the process apparent to us, and it unsettled no one. We’ve come to accept music as a process of meeting the right people, perfecting an image, and making the right impressions. American Idol made it democratic, and since the mainstream audience makes the choice, they’re ready to live with it and support it for the next 10-20 years. The magic of discovering someone on the radio is gone. We’re now subject to watching our entertainment audition for us by karaokeing on live television over the course of 3 months.

Why would you expect anything to change when the only inventions have been in our process of consumption?

2011 was a big music year for me despite a slow start after a rather disappointing 2010. Some big follow-ups from some of my favorite stuff from 2009 came out, and some of them didn’t even make my list. I think this list pretty accurately reflects the timbre of the year: big fluctuations between atmospheric sometimes esoteric ambient and drone music and very conventional, standard rock music that satisfies my need to internally get my rage on.

11. Thee Oh Sees – Carrion Crawler/The Dream : Last Year’s Warm Slime was a pretty awesome little album that probably should have been on 2010’s top tens, but wasn’t because I was digging different stuff that year. But this year I will not let them slip by. 2011 was a big Psych year for me (even though the rest of this list probably wouldn’t indicate such) but this was, by far, my favorite Psych album to come out this year. Thee Oh Sees is a band with a pretty profound output, but I enjoy their balls-out, double drumming, scuzzy guitared, fuzzy organed and sick basslines under the manic vocals over other psych stuff I’ve listened to. They’ve taken it beyond inducing a trance and upped it to an orgiastic freakout.

10. Julianna Barwick – The Magic Place : So I maybe had heard of Julianna Barwick before, but I guess I confused her with Julianna Hatfield…so when she had the misfortune of following a tremendously fun R. Stevie Moore set at Boomslang this year I was quite surprised by the kind of vocal acrobatics she could perform. It didn’t make for the best live set, but I was intrigued enough to locate her albums and give them a listen. Her work speaks better on an album as she is more of a recording artist than a performer, but The Magic Place has become an album I can turn to. Much of the album is her dynamic voice looping, twisting and dancing about creating some phenomenal vocal swirls. It’s solidly lovely.

9. Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks – Mirror Traffic : This is what I always wish that Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks sounded like when I tried to listen in the past. Malkmus really taps into a vein on this album and unabashedly emotes at times, which reminds me of some of my favorite Pavement output–when the indifferent facade drops for a brief moment and the struggles of apathy come to light. A lot of this is countered with some genuinely fun moments and typical Malkmusian delivery, squeezing in words where you’re not sure they belong with effortless energy and the hint of a smile.

8. A Winged Victory for the Sullen – A Winged Victory for the Sullen : Maybe it has something to do with taking 11 years of classical piano lessons and/or the fact that in 7th and 8th grade I listened to a lot of classical music, usually on my discman during the 35 minute bus ride to and from school each day, but I can still really get into some modern classical ambient music. A Winged Victory for the Sullen doesn’t test patience the way 20 minute symphonic movements do or try your endurance with Steve Reich or Philip Glass’s repetitive themes do, it’s much more organic and delicate displaying more grace than panache.

7. Wild Flag – Wild Flag : I had a lot of fun listening to this album, even from the depressing confines of the basement where I work; putting this on usually granted me some productivity and put a smile in my heart. Wild Flag is like hanging out with a cool older cousin who gives you a beer for the first time and plays Sleater-Kinney in the car. Not that I ever had one of these cousins, but a girl can dream, right?

6. Fucked Up – David Comes to Life : This album hit me pretty hard. It’s a lot of fun but there’s also some stellar songwriting and clever engineering at work too. Granted, it’s not perfect, but no other album this year rocks the shit out quite like David Comes to Life. I love the narrative and the sharpness of the angst. I wouldn’t say it’s “edgy”–considering people have been doing hardcore much more brutally for the last 30 years–but it has edges that cut cleanly if not deeply.

5. Parton Kooper Planetarium – Glass & Bone : Physically, this is my favorite album of the year–the design team over at TSCL never disappoints–pressed on grey vinyl with some lovely cover design the record itself is pretty breathtaking. But the songs pressed into the vinyl are just as good and show a refreshing range of mood and pure brilliant skill.

4. Tim Hecker – Ravedeath 1972 : The last year has relied pretty heavily on ambient and more experimental works, and this was one of the first real stand-out albums of 2011 that I heard back in February relating to those idioms. Ravedeath 1972 focuses on dark and imaginative soundscapes and evokes images of exploring a condemned cathedral, the wind still howling through a rusted pipe organ and chunks of decaying wood falling on a piano at random. Too hyperbolic? probably. But this album makes me feel feelings and think thoughts about planned obsolescence and stuff like that.

3. Grouper – AIA: Dream Loss & AIA: Alien Observer – A double release can be a tricky thing, but Liz Harris is pretty damn near infallible, so she pulled off a double release of 2 stellar, complementary albums on one day. Not all the songs are as gold as “Atone” and “Moon is Sharp” but the rest is definitely sterling silver at the very least.

2. Helvetia – On The Lam : Jason Albertini makes a lot of music, and I’m really happy about that because he’s a downright amazing musician. Not only are his guitar tones sick, his guitar work is even sicker. Some of his live videos are fantastic for the quality he has of making dizzying guitar solos look effortless. His percussive thumbprint is complex, rolling beats that are easy on the ears, but enough to engage forever. Much of this is highlighted by sweet organ tones and a melange worn voice. On The Lam takes his usual classic rock influences and stoner-friendly tunes to the most thoroughly engaging Helvetia album yet. While many of the past albums have had a handful of stand-out tracks, On The Lam is rock-solid from start to finish–Helvetia’s most successful endeavor yet.

1. Ursula Bogner – Sonne=Blackbox : As to whether this album was actually made in 2011 or not is up for contention as it may or may not be a ruse schemed up by Jan Jelinek. However, all that matters for this list is that it was released for the first time in 2011. Sonne=Blackbox tops the list for me, because it struck me upon the first note of the album opener and sent me into a different state of mind. My affinity for primitive synthesizer experiments should be no secret to anyone who reads this or knows me, and Ursula Bogner’s 20 year “history” of fiddling with technology in a barn in Germany plays directly into this obsession.
Primitive synthesizer and tape manipulation experiments have a distinct whimsical quality to them, the kind that whisks me away and floats me on sinusoidal wavelengths pulsing through the dark of my mind. Imagine Raymond Scott’s “Little Miss Echo”–the crown jewel of his Soothing Sounds for Baby that delicately oscillates and trots along filling the listener with wonder–cut up, remixed, reworked by a different mind. Bogner employs guitars that are chopped up and manipulated to sound otherworldly and does the same with her own Teutonic voice. Sonne=Blackbox is nothing short of enchanting, and a thoroughly magnetic work that serves me well.

From the Static Cult Label

Nearly a year and a half ago the first traces of Parton Kooper Planetarium showed up on the internet. Their presence has been a slow roast of stray mp3s, random photographs, and well-made videos with teases of an album that may or may not come out. What form this hypothetical album might take, few of us outside the spacious confines of the planetarium could guess. But then there was a spark in the form of another picture: a grey vinyl disc with the caption “Test Pressing.”

This week the reality of a PKP release will settle in when the Static Cult Label (and I’m not just kissing ass when I profess how solidly great every band on this micro-label is) releases a limited edition of 300 grey vinyl of their proper debut, Glass & Bone. It will also be available as a free download on 11/11/11 (because Tuesdays are for losers).

Parton Kooper Planetarium is the project of former El Buzzard and Breasts bandmates, Clay Parton and Troy Kooper. Glass & Bone a pretty big departure from El Buzzard’s raging hardcore, and lacking some of the burning intensity of Breasts’ two releases. However, it holds its own in the pair’s collected oeuvre.

There’s a lot to this album, and I can’t begin to describe everything that happens in these songs–it requires multiple listens as nothing is quite as it seems. The mix is cautious and clever, which is perhaps why this album took so long to come to fruition. No song on Glass & Bone can be so simply described as “acoustic” or “spacey” or “intense.” For having so much synth on this album I commend PKP for their voice choices–with the exception of that one, well hidden, sampled strings, most of them blend really well without seeming overwrought. The healthy mix helps out too, with the exception of “Inner Earth,” synthesizer is never the dominant element. Similarly guitar tones are splendid and effectively evoke desired moods.

The album starts off with a “In A Desert”–unsettling acoustic guitar leads off before an electric guitar and Parton’s delirious vocals burst onto the scene. The song sounds true to it’s name, I–who haven’t spent more than a week in a desert in my whole life (1)–would immediately describe it as “desert music” without even knowing the title. “Future Unions” carries on what the first song established, adding more dynamic guitar parts, and a synthesizer strings part–and were I not paying attention so closely I wouldn’t have noticed or minded–but only under microscopic listening feels like a sloppy choice. The song does, however, employ my favorite vocal trick–the reverse-reverb.

Parton Kooper Planetarium: “So Below” from Troy Kooper on Vimeo.

“So Below” smolders like embers from the small fires of the previous tracks before the album explodes on “Chew off Your Foot” and continues to rage on with a succession of intensity of the title track, “Gasoline,” and “Patmos”–a real stand-out track that employs 2 different drum tracks. “Wait Forever” follows, restraining some of the intensity against its will. The organ on this track transitions the album to more psychedelic moods. “Seers” is a dizzying song that tumbles and turns, but “For Pioneers” calms down the scene with a female guest vocalist set to an easy beat and bare acoustic guitars. “Inner Earth” is a strange follow-up to such a song: “For Pioneers” is alienating, “Inner Earth” is from the aliens. Consisting mostly of synthesizers–it sounds like some rad extraterrestrials fell to earth and taught the ruined world how to rock again (2).

“Voyager” pumps up the intensity one more time with a winning psychedelic ditty and more great drumming before the album ends with the flickering of “Abstraction,” which I found a little dull on first listen, but upon further exposure it carries an unbearable lightness–it’s sad and beautiful, a very faint electric guitar screams in the background as do sounds of the kids at play.

Whether intentional or not, Glass & Bone has a narrative without being a concept album. The front end of the album seems like an attempt to escape humanity and the middle bulk of the album carries a sense of apocalyptic urgency before taking on more somber post-apocalyptic tones towards the back end. It’s like watching the trinity tests slowed down to stretch out over 38 minutes.

1-When I think of desert I think of 2 things: An episode of Garfield and Friends when he and Odie get lost in the desert and the opening of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.
2-A little bit like the end of Muppets from Space.