Review: Muse - The Resistance

Muse used to be a fairly underground band.  Origin Of Symmetry and Absolution were very hip albums to have even heard of, let alone be familiar with; they were an automatic bastion to a person’s Cool Music I’m Into That No One Else Has Heard Of quotient.  They were getting lumped in with Coldplay as Radiohead-wannabes by non-believers - probably because of their British origin more than any actual musical resemblance to either band.  They were darlings of the critics and their visibility was still on the rise.  Somewhere in the last few years, however, Muse went from being a promising up-and-coming group of musicians to being one of the biggest bands in the world.  Maybe it was playing to sellout crowds at Wembley - one of the biggest stadiums in the world - in a pair of gigs documented in their HAARP DVD/CD release.  Or maybe it was their inclusion in the Twilight soundtrack, making them fixtures in the musical accompaniment to millions of teenage girls’ lives.  Whatever the cause, Muse is definitely not an underground band anymore.  They’re huge.  And if The Resistance is any indication, they know it, and you’d better damn well recognize it too.

The album starts off with the fairly straightforward “Uprising,” a classic Muse track which serves as a cover for the amount of grandiose musical statements to come later.  The simple guitar-bass-drums-vocals approach to this first track (notwithstanding a few requisite synth fills - after all, this is Muse we’re talking about) is a somewhat deceptive way to kick off the album - after this point, the band starts pulling out one over-the-top idea after another, resulting in tracks as wide-ranging as the Depeche-Mode-influenced dance grooves found in “Undisclosed Desires” and the rock-opera-worthy, Queen-worshipping “United States Of Eurasia (+Collateral Damage),” the latter complete with full orchestral accompaniment.  Many of these ideas work, especially when the band indulges its classical side: the album ends with a three-track piece titled “Exogenesis: Symphony” which also features an orchestra, and makes for a very satisfying conclusion to all the craziness and genre-jumping.  In fact, the “Exogenesis” suite is so good that much of the rest of the album seems just okay by comparison.  The scattershot approach to genre and influence works against the band here; many of these tracks, while enjoyable on their own, simply can’t stand up next to one another and create a viable whole.  One of the other main drawbacks of the album is that, when the band simplifies their approach as on “Uprising” and a few other tracks, they seem to go on autopilot, as if their creative energy was expended on the more out-there tracks.  Overall, though, The Resistance is a good album, and what it lacks in cohesiveness is almost made up for by how much fun it is to listen to.  Only a band with the confidence of knowing they’re one of the biggest acts in the world would dare create music this bombastic and over-the-top; if they focus their confidence on a more unified vision, they may yet create another truly fantastic album.  Until then, though, The Resistance should be enough to tide their new-found legions of screaming fans over.

Rating: 3/5

Standout Tracks:
“Exogenesis: Symphony” (Parts 1-3)
“United States Of Eurasia (+Collateral Damage)”
“Undisclosed Desires”

Release Date: September 14, 2009

Emotional Maturity And Music: "Well, I Guess This Is Growing Up"

I was listening to my iPod on Shuffle the other day, and something came up that I hadn't listened to in years.  This in itself isn't remotely noteworthy - I have a ton of music on that thing, a lot of which is pulled from CDs I've owned since high school or earlier and that I haven't sat down and paid proper attention to in quite a long time.  But the particular song gave me pause, because it used to be one of my favorites.  It was "And All That Could Have Been" by Nine Inch Nails, and as a lad of about sixteen, it had encapsulated my angsty little world almost perfectly.  Here's a link to the song if you're curious enough to listen.  (Be warned, though - it's pretty damn depressing.  You might want to have a box of tissues close at hand, or alternatively, make sure there are no razors or other sharp objects within arms' reach before clicking Play.)


Now, I was a pretty angsty sixteen-year-old.  (Then again, who wasn't, right?)  A song like this, one that forces the listener to share in whatever incredibly miserable experience inspired it in the first place, seems perfect favorite-song-ever material for a kid with tons of negative thoughts and emotions swirling in his adolescent psyche but without any sense of perspective on any of it, much less any way of expressing anything more complicated than deep, malignant sorrow.  Screw looking at things from different angles, this is my angle, and nobody but Trent Reznor understands me.  Of course, even at that young age, I was a budding musician, and I appreciated the compositional and production aspects of the song too, such as its masterful use of atmospheric effects to create mood and its clever switches in time-signature.  All in all, I had thought "And All That Could Have Been" was pretty much the epitome in songwriting, musicianship, and storytelling-through-lyrics.  And it was, like, deep, man.


Listening to the song again eight years later, my impression was decidedly different.  For one thing, it's so oppressively dreary and dark that listening to it really wasn't that much fun.  I guess in the intervening time since I was a dark and brooding high-school sophomore, I've gained more appreciation for major-key songwriting.  Plus, Reznor's complete lack of musical or lyrical subtlety leaves nothing left to interpretation - it's like getting whacked in the face with the gloomiest sledgehammer ever.  I guess I don't feel like I completely share his outlook on things as much as I thought I once did.  But what made me stop and think the hardest was the fact that, when I was the kind of kid who listened to this stuff all the time, I'm sure I was just about as depressing to be around as the music I listened to.  (For what it's worth, though, I still think the song is cleverly produced and arranged from a musical perspective.  I'm still a NIN fan, and for all his lyrical shortcomings, Reznor was - and arguably, still is - a damn good musician overall.)

This got me thinking about how our emotional reactions to music change and mature as we grow older.  When I was a sixteen-year-old NIN-obsessed adolescent, I latched onto the emotional wavelength of that kind of music because it was painted in broad enough strokes for me to recognize with my primitive understanding of human emotion.  NIN has never been known for subtlety or emotional ambiguity: it's venting music, and when you're a teenager, you need music, movies, and other media that lets you vent a bit.  Since most kids that age view things in similarly broad, black-and-white strokes, this ham-fisted approach to emotion is tailor-made for those needing an outlet for all that hormonal tension.  Not that it all has to be dark and dreary: enter Blink-182, whose smart-ass pop-punk was just as much of an outlet for me and my peers as NIN's emotional dirges.  (See "Dammit," which is pretty unsubtle itself and from which I shamelessly lifted part of this entry's title.)  It laid it all out there, and it just begged to be sung along to, to be transcribed from memory in the margins of your American History 1 notes, and to be totally taken to heart as God's honest truth and a clear window into the human experience.  Any number of other bands or genres could fit the bill just as well - the point is that it didn't take any effort to identify with, it just was what it was, in the most obvious tones possible.


When you get older, though, you learn that things aren't so cut-and-dry.  You learn to view situations from other people's perspectives than your own.  You learn that there are better ways to get a message across than screaming it in people's faces - in other words, that subtlety can be a very good thing.  Most importantly, you learn that an isolated instance of heartache or angst isn't the end of the freaking world, and you'd probably be better off getting over it than wallowing in self-pity.  From the perspective of a 24-year-old who's done at least a little bit of growing up since 2002 (then again, maybe I'm flattering myself unduly here), it seems pretty damn silly and immature to put as much emotional stock into a song like "And All That Could Have Been" as I once did.

This isn't to say that I'm some kind of Vulcan-like stoic with no reaction to anything, though - it's just that different types of musical content and lyrical imagery strike a chord with me these days.  If I feel like listening to something with emotional resonance, I'm much more likely to spin some Death Cab For Cutie or The Swell Season than NIN.  Maybe I've just softened up in my old age.  And It's quite likely that in another eight years, I'll look back on the music that tugs my heartstrings today and feel the same way.  So maybe there really is no "growing up," and we're all just drifting from one self-pitying musical experience to another, slightly less morose one, only to move onward again.  Whatever the case, it doesn't change the fact that, no matter how old we get or how mature we think we are, we all need something to vent with in one way or another - and those sources of emotional outlet are as subject to change as our emotions themselves.

Review: Chevelle - Sci-Fi Crimes

Modern radio-friendly hard rock has earned a pretty bad name for itself in recent years.  The airwaves have been flooded with new, up-and-coming bands grappling for a piece of the pie, armed with frat-party-friendly lyrics and chunky, detuned guitar riffs plagiarized from their idols and contemporaries.  A lot of it really does suck horribly (I’m looking at you, Saving Abel), but amidst the dreck, there are a few bands that had a hand in establishing the sound all these also-rans are aping and that are still putting out material that rises above the trash to at least a passable level of listenability.  One of these bands is Chevelle, and their fall 2009 release Sci-Fi Crimes, while not quite Album Of The Decade material, is quite enjoyable anyway, especially when compared to its competition.

Chevelle have been fairly consistent in output throughout their career, with each album taking a modest step in a different direction from the previous one.  Added up over almost a decade, though, this means that the band has come a long way.  Today’s Chevelle is, on average, quite a bit more up-tempo and energetic than the plodding, moody alt-metal that made them famous in the first half of the ‘00s.  Sci-Fi Crimes definitely continues this trend, started in earnest on their previous full-length, Vena Sera.  One of the other things that sets this album apart from what came before it, paradoxically, is that it really isn’t all that heavy.  Sure, there’s a good amount of super-low-end riffing, but it’s used a bit more sparingly this time around, interspersed with a wider variety of guitar tones, lyrical vibes, and general changes in mood and dynamic.  Opener “Sleep Apnea,” “Jars,” and “Roswell’s Spell” are classic Chevelle, not completely terrible by any means but bordering on the upper end of average.  However, tracks like these coexist with surprisingly subdued songs like “Shameful Metaphors” and the entirely acoustic “Highland’s Apparition.”  These two tracks, along with the driving “Letter From A Thief,” showcase some of Pete Loeffler’s best vocal work and most memorable melodies to date.  The album does drag a bit towards the end, however; a few tracks seem tacked on as filler, and the unnecessary and unimpressive instrumental “Interlewd” adds a couple minutes of running time that the album really didn’t need.  Sci-Fi Crimes is a spotty, inconsistent album, but the best material on here is really very good, and for a band currently in the modern rock scene, that’s praise to be cherished.

Rating:  3/5

Standout Tracks:
“Letter From A Thief”
“Shameful Metaphors”
“Highland’s Apparition”

Release Date:  August 31, 2009

Dream Theater - Black Clouds & Silver Linings

(Note: I actually wrote most of this review over a year ago, before the Great Relative Pitch Drought, so what you see below is my largely unaltered opinion of an album that's over a year old.  I know, I know, like I said, I'm behind and I have a lot of catching up to do.  But I still do like the album, and for most of the same reasons I initially wrote about.  Keep reading to find out what they are.)

Few other bands that have been around for nearly a quarter of a century have the same amount of musical energy and vitality as Dream Theater.  Almost undeniably the biggest name in modern progressive metal, Dream Theater have made their career out of pushing the boundaries of musicianship and composition, churning out new albums like clockwork over the last decade.  But even the most forward-thinking musicians can fall into a predictable pattern, as a few of Dream Theater’s more recent releases have displayed.  As impressive as super-fast guitar and keyboard solos and twenty-plus-minute compositions may be, it became something of a formula with the band, with almost every song following a loosely varied, but rarely abandoned, structure of tempo changes, solo sections, and singalong choruses.  The irony of a progressive band falling into such conventional habits was perhaps the most discouraging thing of all.  With their tenth full-length studio album, however, Dream Theater have proved that they still have more musical creativity and passion than many bands half their age - Black Clouds & Silver Linings is an exciting, varied, and unpredictable album that, in many ways, redeems a band that some had feared were beginning to stagnate.

As its title would suggest, Black Clouds & Silver Linings is all about contrast: dark and light, fast and slow, intense and soothing.  Take the opening track, “A Nightmare To Remember,” which kicks the album off with one of the darkest, most menacing passages in Dream Theater’s catalog.  The next six minutes are mostly standard Dream Theater, though definitely showcasing their heavy side.  The song soon takes an abrupt left turn, however, giving way to a calm, atmospheric midsection with soothing guitar arpeggios and vocal harmonies.  This respite (which would have worked well as its own song) doesn’t last, though - the mayhem soon breaks loose again, bringing the song full circle with some of the band’s most headbanging passages yet.  These musical twists and turns add up to one of the most satisfying musical journeys Dream Theater have created.  The album’s other extended-length suites - “The Best Of Times,” a touching tribute to drummer Mike Portnoy’s deceased father, and the dramatic album closer “The Count Of Tuscany” - display similar ups and downs in dynamic level.  The overall impression of these three tracks is of a band truly stretching their songwriting limits and branching into new territory, perhaps acknowledging the complacency of their last couple releases.  The album’s pair of shorter, “radio-friendly” tracks, “A Rite Of Passage” and “Wither,” are much more standard fare for the band.  Though they may not be as groundbreaking as the rest of the material here, they’re still fun to listen to, and should satisfy listeners looking for something easier to digest than 15-minute-plus epics.

After all, though, this is a Dream Theater album, albeit a very good one - and no DT album would be complete without the requisite amount of over-the-top solos and generally dramatic displays of virtuosity.  Critics of the band’s technical self-indulgence will find just as much to complain about here as on any previous release.  Questionable lyrical choices have also popped up in the band’s catalog in recent years, and a few clunkers slipped through this time around as well.  But Dream Theater’s strengths have always been geared toward the big picture rather than the minute details of songcraft, assembling roller-coaster-rides that leave the listener with the feeling of having gone on a journey, of having really experienced something.  In this regard, Black Clouds & Silver Linings is more than satisfying, and DT fans should embrace this album as one of the band’s best in a long time.

Rating:  4/5

Standout Tracks: 
“The Count Of Tuscany”
“A Nightmare To Remember”
“The Best Of Times”

Release Date: June 23, 2009

Clearing out the cobwebs.

Alright, I confess: I'm a lazy bastard.  I haven't posted any reviews in over a year.  I'm not really sure what happened - I was doing alright, getting something written up just about every couple weeks or so, then all of a sudden, I just got busy or preoccupied with other stuff, and this humble little blog fell by the wayside, blah blah blah, excuses excuses, etc.  The truth is, I let you down.  I betrayed my loyal readers (all five of you), and I feel bad about it.

But as Sting said in that song you know you actually kind of like even though you'd never admit it, it's a brand new day.  With that in mind, I've decided to give Relative Pitch a second shot.  Things might be just a bit different from what you'd remember - obviously, I've reformatted the place in an effort to make it look a little snazzier.  I think my writing style has evolved a bit in the past year or so, too.  Hopefully for the better, although I guess you'll have to be the judge of that.  A ton of music has been released since I fell off the wagon here last summer, and I'll be attempting to pick up where I left off by reviewing some of the most noteworthy releases to come around since then.  Yeah, I've got a lot of catching up to do.  But it'll be fun (at least for me; I can only hope you have as good of a time reading my opinionated ramblings as I did writing them).

And so, like a phoenix rising from the ashes (or maybe more like a lethargic twenty-something rising from an overlong afternoon nap), Relative Pitch makes its triumphant return to the interwebs.  Read on.  Send praise, or troll me up if you want.  But have fun.

Dave Matthews Band - Big Whiskey And The GrooGrux King

Dave Matthews Band - Big Whiskey And The GrooGrux King

Release date: June 2, 2009

Dave Matthews Band’s seventh studio album, 2009’s Big Whiskey And The GrooGrux King, is one of those albums that will always be remembered not for the music, but for the circumstances surrounding its release. Midway through the process of writing and recording the album, the Virginia-native band was struck by the sudden and tragic death of founding member and master saxophone player LeRoi Moore. It was a devastating blow, shaking both the band and its dedicated fan base to their respective cores. The loss of a musician so vital to the sound of a band would surely have crumbled any lesser group, but DMB didn’t give up. In fact, if Moore’s death has affected the band’s music in any way, it seems to have revitalized it - Big Whiskey is brimming with more energy and musical flair than anything the band has released in the last decade.

One of the most enduring criticisms of Dave Matthews Band’s studio catalog is that the material never quite captures the energy of the band’s live shows. The band has built their career on touring, and rightly so - few bands put on a better show than DMB at their finest. Measuring up to the jubilant spectacle of their concerts is no small feat for a studio recording, and while Big Whiskey doesn’t quite reach the mark, it comes closer than any album the band has released since at least 1998’s Before These Crowded Streets. Instead of being stifled by the studio environment as on much of the band’s recent output (especially on 2005’s disappointing Stand Up), the performances here are lively and virtuosic. Drummer Carter Beauford in particular is in top form, delivering what might be the most impressive studio recording of his career. Beauford’s explosive, intricate rhythms form the foundation upon which the rest of the band builds one sonic spectacle after another, utilizing to their full extent Stefan Lessard’s bass, Boyd Tinsley’s violin, and - what might be the most striking characteristic of the album - lots and lots of guitars, courtesy of both Dave Matthews himself and his longtime collaborator Tim Reynolds (appearing for the first time on record with DMB since Crowded Streets). The overall sound is bold, raw, and unapologetic, with tracks such as “Why I Am,” “Shake Me Like A Monkey,” “Alligator Pie,” and “Squirm” guaranteed to translate perfectly to the band’s live shows.

Of course, while the album is overshadowed in many ways by Moore’s passing, he is far from absent from the final product. The band went to great lengths to include as much recorded material from Moore’s final sessions as possible, resulting in some of the album’s best moments. The very first notes of Big Whiskey are Moore’s soulful saxophone intro, leading into the album’s instrumental first track, “Grux.” The somber “Lying In The Hands Of God” prominently features Moore’s distinctive soprano sax, providing a playful counterpoint to Matthews’ vocals. Most of the rest of the album’s songs contain at least a fill or a solo recorded by Moore before his death, making the album a fitting memorial to his talent and creative voice. Jeff Coffin and Rashawn Ross, on saxophone and trumpet, perform the rest of the album’s horn parts. Although their talent is beyond question, they never quite fill the space left vacant by Moore’s death, making his absence all the more apparent - and perhaps reminding the listener of Moore’s indispensable place in the band in just one more way. Big Whiskey is an album that works on multiple levels: as a tribute to a fallen musician, as a triumphant return to form for the remaining band members, and simply as a fun, exciting, and wholly satisfying musical experience. Even if you can’t make it to a DMB concert this summer, pick up this album - it’s the next best thing, and that’s saying a lot. Highly recommended.

4/5

Standout Tracks:

• “Shake Me Like A Monkey”
• “Lying In The Hands Of God”
• “Squirm”
• “Why I Am”

Green Day - 21st Century Breakdown

Green Day - 21st Century Breakdown

Release date: May 15, 2009

With 21st Century Breakdown, Green Day prove that they’ve come a long way since Dookie.  The band practically invented the pop-punk genre in the 1990s, inspiring countless followers with their breakthrough album’s mix of ultra-catchy pop melodies, rough-hewn punk instrumentation, and irreverent attitude.  But now, well into their second decade as a band, Green Day seem to be distancing themselves from their roots as much as possible, creating music that attempts to be much more diverse, ambitious, and serious than their past output.  Whatever you want to call it - reinvention, rebranding, or simply “growing up” - it’s been a gradual process, hinted at on 2000’s Warning and reaching full tilt with 2004‘s American Idiot.  But on their newest album, Green Day seems to have finally shed most of what was left of their pop-punk past.  This begs the question: if they’re no longer a pop-punk band, just what are they?

If 21st Century Breakdown has an answer to that question, it’s not easy to find.  The band seems just as confused about their own identity as their fans have become, and it shows on the material here.  A portion of the album’s tracks are energetic rock tunes that do seem to reach back to the band’s old days, if only in terms of volume level and instrumentation rather than mentality.  The relentlessly driving single “Know Your Enemy” is a good example of this, along with “Horseshoes And Handgrenades” and “Christian’s Inferno.”  It’s in these songs that the band seems most comfortable, as if for a moment they’re only concerned about rocking out instead of trying to make a sophisticated musical statement.  The rest of the album consists of deliberately grandiose, multi-faceted, piano-led anthems in the vein of American Idiot.  It’s painfully obvious that the band was trying to recapture the epic feel of their last record, particularly on songs such as “¡Viva La Gloria!” and “21 Guns.”  The new material sounds woefully forced, however, and devoid of almost any originality.  A few of these songs, including the title track, do have their moments, but even they seem derived, not only from classic rock bands like Queen, but from Green Day’s own material.

Perhaps an even bigger crime than the album’s musical missteps is that the carefree attitude of early Green Day is nowhere to be found.  Though Billie Joe Armstrong still knows how to write a hook - and rest assured, the album is full of them - his lyrics have taken on a heavy-handed, melodramatic quality befitting the album’s rock opera aspirations.  It’s hard to tell just what this rock opera’s storyline is, though, since nothing makes quite enough sense to fit into place inside a larger concept.  As far as telling a story through lyrics goes, American Idiot did a much better job.  There are some satisfying moments on 21st Century Breakdown, but the overall feeling of the album is that of a band trying too hard to create something deep and meaningful when their strengths lie in the exact opposite direction.  It’s a moderately enjoyable listen, but Green Day have done much better.

2.5/5

Standout Tracks:

• “Christian’s Inferno”
• “Know Your Enemy”
• “Horseshoes And Handgrenades”