The Albums of 2009: Know Better Learn Faster by Thao with The Get Down Stay Down
Some of the greatest albums have proved that heartbreak makes music go ’round. Thao Nguyen’s Know Better Learn Faster is no exception. As an audience, we revel in the pain that birthed Thao’s evolved folk. Coming from the battlegrounds of a real life break up, Thao with The Get Down Stay Down — consisting of Adam Thompson on bass, keys and additional guitar; and Willis Thompson on drums and percussion — compile thirteen cleverly crafted heartbreak songs that evoke contempt for the very concept of everlasting love.
The title track, “Know Better Learn Faster”, sets the somber tone with the help of Andrew Bird, who lends his fiddling and whistling expertise. Earthy tones speak humble words, yearning for someone to be “better than me”. Her smoky voice provides a perfect balance of dignity and pleading while weaving in and out of upbeat hand claps and that quirky acoustic guitar of hers. By the end, we feel sorry, almost pitiful, for her, wondering how tired she must be from fighting for so long.
Yet the wit and sarcasm of “Fixed It!” is the big fuck you she needed to shout. It comes complete with driving rhythm that riles you up for each “fixed it!”, punctuated with sharp, jabbing beats. The rowdy cheers at the end match the shouting buildup in the beginning as if to present the song as a fight between him and her. We all know who won. It’s this song that reminds you of all the terrible things the last person you loved did to you, making you wonder if it was ever really love at all.
Even though this album is cripplingly sarcastic, Thao and the Get Downs still manage to make you smile. Her flighty beats elate you to a future where you feel the same constant percussive thumps in your heart again. Know Better Learn Faster makes you realize that the contempt you feel for the one who hurt you eventually turns into contempt for the hurt, and not the person. Like any good album, every song reminds you of some pain and makes you wince with her; yet each time you press replay, you feel a little more hopeful in spite of all you’ve heard.
The Little Shop of Horrors? Absolutely! Directed by Roger Corman and starring Jonathan Haze, this old gem is far superior to the many remakes, including the musical adaptation. Not only does it include a cheesy-looking plant that drinks human blood, but the writing is surprisingly good. I think the story is extremely fresh and unique, and one that clearly works for all generations (hence the remakes).
Just to account for the brilliance of this film, one particular scene has always caught my eye. The setting is a dentist’s office, and the comedic hook is an appearance by Jack Nicholson (his film debut). I don’t want to give away too much, but Jack presents a rather creepy stance on dentistry. I will just leave it at that. Go watch the film.
With an appreciation for all things peculiar, Alma Juarez’s point of view is a curious one. With characters from all different backgrounds, she is able to capture a fascinating weight to each of them. No matter what medium she’s using, every character she chooses feels like they have a life outside of the piece. They are people who have a history behind them.
A couple weeks ago I was able to talk with Alma about her work and get a glimpse into the history behind her.
Justin Miyamoto: Hi, Alma! How are you doing today? Did you do anything interesting over the weekend?
Alma Juarez: Hi! I’m doing well. Yeah! I started my weekend by getting free potatoes, then moved on to getting mooned, then seeing Abraham Lincoln hanging out with Scarlett O’Hara and at some point I was surrounded by hippies and zombies, but not at the same time.
In 1927 Blind Willie Johnson signed with Columbia records and recorded around thirty songs from 1927–1930. One of his most emotionally stirring and moving songs, titled “Dark Was The Night” — a “hum and moan” song about the crucifixtion of Jesus — is said to have inspired such great blues masters as Robert Johnson and Skip James.
Therefore, it is only fitting that this song and the artist who wrote it are the inspiration for the 20th compilation album benefiting The Red Hot Organization, an international charity with the purpose of “fighting AIDS through pop culture”.
This compilation features most of the who’s who in the international indie folk and rock music scenes, featuring such acts as The Arcade Fire, The National, and Beirut; collabs of Grizzly Bear working with Feist, among others; and last, but certainly not least, a hauntingly intimate cover of Bob Dylan’s “I Was Young When I Left Home” by Antony (with Bryce Dessner). Basically, if you’re a coffeehouse-going, Bright Eyes-rocking, modern indie folk lover, this is probably the compilation of your dreams.
But the most interesting song among the Cat Powers and My Morning Jackets littered throughout this compilation could be Kronos Quartet’s cover of Blind Willie Johnson’s previously mentioned blues masterpiece. That may be obvious, since it is the name of the compilation, after all. But it is interesting for the fact that Kronos Quartet is able to keep the heavy late 20’s dread of southern depression blues while adding the fear and dread of the modern day depression felt around the world, especially in AIDS-stricken countries. The dissonance and nearly uncomfortable and unpleasant way the quartet performs this song leaves you with a sense of concern, but also, hopefully, with a sense of wanting to do more for your fellow man.
Whether you’re the aforementioned character who loves Iron and Wine (also on the compilation) and all artists of that nature, or if you’d just like to chip in some money for a good cause, Dark Was The Night is what you’re looking for.
Disc 1:
Disc 2:
I guess the only way for me to describe Return of the Living Dead is punk rock. It is the SLC Punk of zombie movies and, I gotta say, probably my favorite zombie movie of all time.
Directed by Dan O’Bannon and starring a cast full of nobody extremely famous, it is a story pretty similar to any other zombie movie out there: teenager accidentally spills nerve gas in a U.S. Military surplus store and gives life to a pack of the undead.
Two very distinct characteristics make this film special. To begin, the score is full of mid 80’s synth rock. If that isn’t enough for you to rip your shirt off and scream “Oscar nomination!” then you might need to second guess your film taste.* Simply putting zombies and synths in the same film already intrigues me enough to double take. Secondly, the wardrobe and writing, highlighting the punk scene of the 80’s, are a sweet twist on the generic Romero horror film.**
If I was to suggest a time and place for experiencing Return of the Living Dead, I would say to set up a party on Halloween. I am a big believer that the environment greatly affects your opinion of the film or art you enjoy. Set this one up perfectly. You won’t forget it.
* I am kidding. I would hate for someone to think I don’t respect their theatrical taste. I simply love zombie films.
** Romero is a legend.
Alright so I know he works with us, but Zachary Hill has been one of my favorite local artists for quite some time and I felt it appropriate to let you all know that he’s just released a new series called Methodical Dreams. In his own words, Zach describes the series as being “about investigating my dreams and the feelings associated with those dreams so that I can try to translate my conclusions to the canvas”. You can see one example of the series up top, and a few more examples after the jump.
If you’d like to contact him about sales or to check out his other work, please visit his website.
After a long day of work, you slowly step into your perfectly still and silent home. You quietly spin an album that you’ve heard much about: that it is something you give your full attention to, something that isn’t just heard, but experienced. Beginning with a frail falsetto, “Kettering,” the second track off The Antlers’ 2009 album, Hospice, sets the tone for what is about to be an amazingly beautiful and haunting journey. “You made me sleep and uneven, and I didn’t believe them, when they told me that there was no saving you,” cries Peter Silberman as a lush array of instruments engulfs him in a one minute release of cathartic noise. As the sound dies down you realize that this is not going to be your normal concept album.
Hospice was crafted by lead singer Silberman during a year of “social isolation.” A social isolation that caused him to search deep within to capture what it is that makes humans feel for one another. If Hospice could be summed up in one word, that word is “desperation.” Desperation to save Sylvia, the little girl who lies on the hospital bed during many of the songs on this album. Desperation to save what’s left of a relationship that’s being torn apart by human mortality. The Antlers have captured all the facets of this emotion perfectly, and they do it with an elegance and force like the arrival and departure of a massive tidal wave. There are times where the album goes from all out anguish to a quiet, more contemplative yearning for peace.
Every song twirls you through a myriad of emotions that leave you desperate for a happy conclusion. But that’s not where Hospice takes you. The album ends as a tragedy. One that lands you in disbelief much like death does to you in life. You are destined to play the album over and over like you would your memories, in hopes of a different ending. With each listen, the album cuts deeper and deeper, never letting you go.
(via Swiss Miss)
