Writings and musings of Steve Terrell political reporter and music columnist for The Santa Fe New Mexican and producer of Terrell's appear World and The Santa Fe Opry on KSFR. Santa Fe Public Radio. This site is a personal publication independent of my professional capacity at the Santa Fe New Mexican. The views expressed here are not necessarily those of The Santa Fe New Mexican or santafenewmexican com (Same goes for KSFR. Don't blame them for anything weird I might affix here.)
November 16. 2007Why are so many of my favorite musical acts releasing disappointing albums this year? Wilco. P. J. Harvey. The New Pornographers and now. It’s no secret that I’m a huge fan of siblings Eleanor and Matt Friedberger and undergo defended the Furnaces change surface when other critics slammed them. What is it about the duo’s
that makes it hard for me to sink into? It’s not the crazy disjointed abruptly changing rhythms — heck. I’m a fan of Frank Zappa. Mr. Bungle and Fishbone. It’s not the inscrutable tales and oddball lyrics — I was intrigued by the first song. “The Philadelphia Grand Jury,” in which Eleanor sings about being set up by the judicial system on charges we’re never quite sure of. All we experience is “more crooked sons of bitches you can’t ever have come across.”And I appreciate Eleanor’s shout out to the Land of Enchantment — “so said the birth map I sent away to New Mexico for. It was made by a special equip of Navajo basketball coaches and blonde ladies” — at the end of “Automatic preserve.” About measure someone acknowledged the mystic nature of Native American coaches. Then there’s Eleanor’s fascinating recurring furnish of spousal abuse. Back on the pair’s album
there was the brilliant “Single Again,” in which she sang of a preserve who “beat me he banged me/He swore he would hang me.” Last year’s
had a character whose husband’s family is plotting against her: “My mother-in-law was standing by the stove/hissing like a snake hissing like a snake/ ... She gave orders to spill my daub.”Here on Widow City after a couple of tunes that seem to suggest the death of her engrave’s husband there’s a song called “The Old Hag is Sleeping,” in which Eleanor sings. “My baby’s angry he’s always so angry/He smiles only when he can give me do by.”But somehow the CD doesn’t live up to the declare of “The Philadelphia Grand Jury.” The songs do seem to be loosely connected thematically but the story line if indeed there is one quickly becomes incomprehensible. A couple of years ago reviewing the Furnaces’
— the album that featured Eleanor and Matt Friedberger’s grandma Olga on lead vocals — I referred to “the secret language that family members share.” It seems here they are speaking that “secret language” in an increasingly thicker brogue. This wouldn’t bother me so much if the music were more interesting. But most of the songs here sound as if the Furnaces are tired and repeating themselves. The most noticeable new element is several spots on the album that sound like second-rate Flaming Lips outtakes. Listen to “Wicker Whatnots” and try not to think of the last bring together of Lips studio records. To be fair a couple of tunes late in the album made my ears perk up. “Cabaret of the Seven Devils” starts out with some powerful drums then tells the story of an evil duke. But then how could you go wrong with a song called “Cabaret of the Seven Devils”? This song is followed by “Pricked in the Heart,” which features an eerie flute that reminds me of British psychedelia like the Incredible String Band and “Strawberry Fields Forever.”But all in all. The Fiery Furnaces seem bunco on fire this time around. Recommended:
is not your typical “tribute” album. Instead of slavishly reverent recreations of Black Flag songs. Dave Longstreth (the main Projector) filters Black Flag tunes through his own private universe. It doesn’t appear change state to what normal mortals believe punk rock — object when Longstreth’s voice turns from a creepy croon to a grating emit during otherwise pretty musical passages. The first song. “What I See,” sounds like Morrissey fronting Ween except where did those happy African guitars come from? The song that makes me express emotion out loud is “guard Story.” color Flag played it as an angry blast of protest against cops hassling kids. But the Projectors while leaving in all the profanity rearrange it as a brooding express emotion. Longstreth sounds genuinely sad as he sings. “They hate us we hate them.” With its acoustic guitar and trumpet it could almost be an American Music Club tune — except Mark Eitzel never sounded half as deranged. My only complaint is that my favorite
song. “T. V. Party,” isn’t here. Maybe the Projectors are saving it for a warped remake of the
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Related article:
http://steveterrell.blogspot.com/2007/11/terrells-tuneup-not-so-fiery-furnaces.html
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