Music of the Week
By Lauren Harris
Unfortunately, it would seem Wilco has gone and drank its own Kool-Aid. For their seventh album, the band has chosen their moniker as both the title and first single ' the type of brand establishment indicative of early careerism and egotism ' hardly the stuff from the alt-rock legends who have been putting out consistently brilliant, innovative rock for the past two decades. Guitarist Nels Cline, known for his fractal-like guitar riffs and generally freak-rock stance sounds reigned in, and Tweedy's lyrics feel pedestrian at best. Frankly, the only thing that charts new territory was the band's reaction to the album's leak almost two months ago; in lieu of threatening legal action, the quintet simply streamed the album, and suggested folks make a charitable donation. The fact that the album boasts a duet with Feist is precisely the type of middle-of-the-road pandering that makes this album downright Starbucksian.'
Weeks prior to the official start of the season, the Official Summer Jam arrived. Granted, it lacked the marquee name and PG-13 rating of your typical hit, but what it lacked in typical trappings it made up for in straight-up comedy, whether wittingly or not. The premise: It's Jeremih's girl's birthday, and as we all know, 'birthday sex is the best sex of the year.' As the Chicago native details, no position is too graphic, no location too inconceivable, and obviously, the song is ripped from the headlines of his own life. While haters may write him off as a flash in the pan or dependent upon gimmickry, may we direct them to his short-list of sophomore album singles: 'Holiday Sex.'
Wait For Me
The premise of Moby's ninth album is an interesting one, given his own history with musical commercialism. Inspired by a speech given by David Lynch, the technophile decided to build the songs on the album around the following tenet: 'it seems as if too often an artists'creative output is judged by how well it accommodates the marketplace, and how much market share it commands and how much money it generates.' An undoubtedly noble conceit, but a curious one coming from the individual who licensed every single song on 1999's Play for use in commercials and films. The resulting collection of songs -- recorded on a much smaller scale than past albums -- showcases a more emotional, darker side of the wee electro guru.'
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