Elvis Costello and The Roots – Wise Up Ghost
It shouldn’t work. Elvis Costello, the angry young man turned cantankerous cynic behind some of the best cerebral rock ever written (see My Aim is True, This Year’s Model and Imperial Bedroom), has been in studio over the course of a year with The Roots, the legendary hip-hop outfit who proved that the genre could do live instrumentation as well as any other. You’re probably thinking what everyone else was when the artistic partnership was announced: what?
But somehow, Costello’s acidic sneer, Mark Kelley’s funkadelic bass and ?uestlove’s jazz-inspired drums combine organically to make Wise Up Ghost one of The Roots’ strongest efforts, and Costello’s best album since his split with The Attractions nearly two decades ago.
Costello’s hip-hop inspired verbal spitfire on tracks like “Refuse to Be Saved” and “Stick Out Your Tongue” is no far cry from his conversational vocals on his early masterpieces, and The Roots — who have proven their aptitude as a backing band during their stint on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon — lend Costello’s songwriting an energy and liveness his most recent albums have been sorely lacking.
The album’s diverse instrumentation, most notably the sousaphone accompaniment of Tuba Gooding Jr., gives the songs a smooth jazz feel that soften the blow of Costello’s often accusatory, sardonic lyrics. Though some tracks, such as the R&B groove of “Wake Me Up,” flirt with easy-listening tropes, Costello’s wordplay and The Roots’ soulful accompaniment give Wise Up Ghost enough bite to avoid being described as — heaven forbid — adult contemporary.
Considering his reputation during his early years as indie rock’s Johnny Rotten, it’s ironic how often Costello endures accusations of softness and acquiescence. It’s refreshing to see that, with the release of Wise Up Ghost, an artist with so many albums under his belt still has a few tricks up his sleeve.
Neko Case – The Worse Things Get, The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You
Man, can she sing. Neko Case’s powerful vocals often play the lead role in her not-quite-country discography, and on The Worse Things Get, her impressive range and dramatic delivery have improved. From the first moments album opener “Wild Creatures” storms out of the gate, you know you’re in for a bumpy ride.
The LP, Case’s best and most personal record yet, was recorded in the wake of a rough period in the songstress’ life: she lost her grandmother and both of her parents, and subsequently sunk into depression. The tracks on The Worse Things Get are emotionally bare and subtly twisted, as are Case’s lyrics: on standout “Night Still Comes,” she coos, “If I puked up some sonnets / Would you call me a miracle?”
Each song seems to find a new subject in Case’s cross hairs. She laments the socialization of gender on “Man,” while M. Ward’s lead guitar crunches; she punishes bad parenting on the heartbreaking a capella “Nearly Midnight, Honolulu;” she even tries her hand at a murder ballad on the horn-led “Bracing For Sunday.”
Her ear for catchy melodies has steadily improved, and tracks like “Calling Cards” and “City Swans” blow the blissful country pop of Middle Cyclone out of the water. The Worse Things Get is also Case’s most musically diverse offering yet, but her creative instrumentation is overshadowed by her quotable lyricism and passionate vocals.
Case’s tightrope act between vulnerability and severity calls to mind Fiona Apple’s 2012 masterpiece The Idler Wheel… Like that record, The Worse Things Get makes the rest of Case’s career seem like a dress rehearsal. She’s always been talented at setting a scene, but as her latest LP proves, her real talents seem to lie in the realm of autobiography.
Brian Eno –Music for Airports
Brian Eno is a hard figure to pin down. Beginning as the keyboardist for the glam rock group Roxy Music, he eventually left the group to focus on his solo career. He experimented with art pop, rock and roll and electronica. He collaborated with David Byrne, Robert Fripp and Harold Budd, and produced musical milestones such as Talking Heads’ Remain in Light and U2’s Achtung Baby.
Despite his remarkable discography, Eno seems most comfortable in the background: he’s rarely pictured on his album covers, and he comfortably shares his spotlight with artists who command more attention than himself. It seems natural, then, that Eno’s musical peak is an album whose greatest success is its subtlety: as the first champion — and arguably one of the inventors — of ambient music, Eno is no stranger to the “less is more” approach to electronic music.
Music for Airports, the first of his four-part series of ambient LPs, is as much about silence as it is about music. Divided into four untitled suites, the album is built around looping piano riffs, synthesized atmosphere and sparse vocal samples. Its tone is calm and ethereal, and seems to inspire an increase in concentration rather than distraction.
It feels cheap to call the album’s minimalist ambience “beautiful,” but the word is fitting: the skeletal piano of the album’s first side and the synthesized delicacy of its second are nothing short of awe inspiring. The shift in instrumentation is subliminal, but meaningful: Eno charts his own musical evolution by having his LP transition from traditional piano harmonies to electronic mood pieces.
Those of you who cringe at the idea of ambient music — or refuse to accept it as music at all — probably won’t find that Music for Airports changes your mind. But for the patient and introspective, this album is arguably the genre’s first masterpiece, and a template that has seldom been equaled and never improved.
