Alblum Review: Sebastian Bach - Child Within The Man

It's hard to talk about Sebastian Bach without mentioning the constant talk about a reunion between him and Skid Row, mostly because he won't shut up about it. He has spent at least a decade trying to guilt the band into bringing him back, which I could say is all about money, but I think Bach's solo career makes it clear it's more about him not really wanting to make new music anymore. His solo output has been sporadic at best, and he spends more time talking about is past than his present, so it's not hard to see all of this as something he has to do while biding time for what he really wants.

Just look at the cover of this album. Does that not tell you how little effort was put into making this? Bach wants to think he's still cool at his age, but that drawing is so horrible it would have been too cheesy even in the 80s. Oh, and let's not forget that he's also drawn as being at least three decades younger than he actually is. Perhaps reminding us so forceful of his man-child reputation isn't a good starting point.

The people Bach has chosen to work with continue his trend of making records that try to be heavier than Bach needs to be. His voice has always been rather high and thin, and going in the heavier direction only serves to highlight the limitations of that tone. He feels the need to go into rougher textures and even screaming at times, which either tells me he doesn't believe he can sell these songs with his natural voice, or he doesn't believe he has enough voice left to do it. Either way, hearing a once great singer screaming his head off is not a sign of quality.

This album comes down along the same lines as his other solo work; it's heavy rock that is supposed to impress up by being the heaviest thing he's ever done, but the songs aren't that great, and we all know in advance Bach is going to leave this behind once it's out. He isn't going to be flying the flag for this album for the next couple of years. It's something that reminds us he's still out there, and hopefully pushes a few more fans to bring his name up each time the slot in Skid Row comes open again.

Personally, I don't have a dog in that fight, but I do find it amazing how often the talk turns to how much money a tour would generate, with almost no one seeming to care that the rest of the band would be utterly miserable (by their own admission) to have to spend that much time with Bach. Shouldn't fans have more sympathy for what would make the band happy? I digress.

This record is firmly in the 'meh' pile. There are a few good moments, but I don't know if I would say any of the songs are great. It isn't a miserable experience, but it's also not anything I'm going to want to come back to. The main reason for that is actually Bach, whose voice grates on my nerves. Age has narrowed his tone, making it more shrill than ever, and I don't find it a pleasant sound at all. It almost sounds like he's whining half of these songs, and much like Chris Jericho in Fozzy, I simply don't want to listen to that for more than a few minutes at a time.

Bach may have been a great singer at one point, but time has not been kind to him. His voice is not pleasing, the attitude he takes on the record isn't engaging, and yes, I've never seen an interview with him where I thought he was actually cool.

I'll finish by saying this; if Sebastian and Skid Row ever did get back together, this record tells me it wouldn't be what anyone wants. Bach now is not a better singer than the last two who have filled that spot, so we just have to ask if nostalgia is really worth all this talk. Personally, it's so short-lived I don't see the point. I'll be kind and not say that about this record too.

Still Feeling "Blue", 30 Years On

I'm sure I saw the "Buddy Holly" video when it was in rotation on MTV, but the first time I remember Weezer being a focal point was in high school. Someone who was in my social circle would regularly wear a Weezer t-shirt, and at some point I was asked if I listened to them. At the time, I wanted to think myself too cool for such a thing, so I truthfully answered I didn't, all the while thinking they were too much 'nerd rock' for me.

As time would prove, that would be entirely wrong. Weezer may not have been the only starting point for that description, but they are the one for my generation that blurred the lines between the coolness of being rock stars and the utter lameness of being nerds/geeks/dorks/dweebs. I think what kept me from embracing them at the time was a misunderstanding of the rainbow of possibilities when it comes to being lame. My lameness came in a different form than the traditional stereotypes, and as such I was looking for a closer analog, missing the proverbial forest for the trees.

I didn't start listening to Weezer until "Hash Pipe" hit the airwaves, which is rather hilarious to me, considering that an Adderall-fueled song about cross-dressers on the street corner has precisely zero to do with me, my life, or my own proclivities. Until much later on when Rivers Cuomo went off the deep end, you couldn't have picked a song I would have less of a connection to, and yet it was perhaps the only one I would have been won over by.

I found myself in an online Weezer community, which was something I didn't know I needed as much as I did until it fell apart. Caught between the in-jokes and the other nonsense, the question we kept debating over and over was which album was better; "Blue" or "Pinkerton"?

Even today, I can go back and forth on that one. "Blue" is now thirty years old, which is a depressing fact. It means I'm older than I want to admit, it means I've spent far too much of my life listening to Weezer, and it means not enough has changed in all of this time.

What we couldn't have known at the time was how the record set up most of the Weezer story, and should have been a warning we were in for a bumpy ride.

Everyone knows "Buddy Holly", which is the song on the record that sounds most dated. The approach of filtering power-pop through grunge is palpable, but it is neither the production nor the pop-culture references that date the song. No,it's the bridge of the song, where Rivers sings in a rhythm that always felt to me like he was co-opting a different musical trend of the time. Little did I know that he was indeed dissecting everything popular to later use in cynical ways for his own songwriting. It sounded out of place then, it sounds calculated now.

Rivers was too smart for his own good. His audience was not watching old reruns of "The Dick Van Dyke Show" or listening to 50s rock and roll, nor were they likely to be reading Kerouac. It's that reference that makes "Blue" such a sad album to me. In "On The Road", Kerouac spends hundreds of pages tearing through the story of his life, and how he and his friends were on a manic quest to live as much life as they could. The story is ultimately depressing, because they travel from one end of the country to the other, again and again, never finding anything they could savor long enough to stay put.

That reflects in Rivers' career, where Weezer keeps getting reinvented in the quest to find the same level of success they started out with. "Hash Pipe" would get there, as would (sadly, I would add) "Beverly Hills", but what gets lost in the search is the core. Rivers would toss aside the idea of making music for any purpose other than finding success, as he famously stopped putting anything of himself into the songs after "Pinkerton" failed so miserably. Given what he wrote about on that album, having less Rivers isn't exactly a bad thing, but it stripped the passion out of Weezer so much there's no way to listen to him sing about how he can't stop partying without wondering if the only one he's ever attended was through a telescope from the other side of the street.

We need to reckon with the level of honesty on the record. There are certainly pieces of Rivers in these songs, with the references to his familiar issues and his love of KISS. How much of the record is true colors how I can think about it, because while at times he is playing the part of the hopeless romantic who hasn't found his place yet, there is also the "Pinkerton" foreshadowing in "No One Else". That song is controlling and nearly abusive, and was a warning of how ugly Rivers' views of women were going to become on the next record. This is where it would be nice to think "Blue" was just another of Rivers' academic experiments, but that doesn't quite mesh with the other songs. Rather, it sounds like a blemish that was the first sign of a toxic bloom that would soon come to the surface.

The three singles from the record are still staples of rock radio, and for good reason. Rivers was a key figure in bringing back the power-pop aesthetic into rock, and he did open doors for people who were never going to be conventionally cool. "Blue" became an album of anthems for those of us who didn't fit in, even if our own formula of uncoolness tipped the scales in different ways. It didn't matter if you actually wore horn-rim glasses, or wore sweaters, it was the idea of being together as outcasts that spoke to us.

"Blue" is the album that can still make us feel like someone else understood, whether we have moved past those days or not. While we would learn on "Pinkerton" that sometimes people are shunned for good reason, "Blue" is still the defining record of nerd culture.

As a quasi-member of that group, thirty years hasn't been enough time to figure out if I think that's a good thing or not. Some days...

Album Review: Anette Olzon - Rapture

Sometimes, reviews pain me to have to write. It's never fun when something you've been looking forward to disappoints you, and it isn't made much easier when you know what's coming. Anette Olzon is one of my favorite voices. Her unique tone is captivating, and between her work with Alyson Avenue, The Dark Element, and the Allen/Olzon project, she's been on some of the best melodically heavy music I've heard. My hopes and always high when she's going to release something, but these solo albums of hers aren't much fun for me.

With her voice, and with Magnus Karlsson once again writing the songs, this should be a record that turns around what has been a difficult time for my mood. That would not be the case, however, as this record follows suit from her previous solo album. For reasons I don't entirely understand, these songs feature bursts of harsh vocals, and the least hooky melodies on any of Magnus' current projects. Anette's voice is beautiful and soaring, and she's given very flat songs that don't play to her strengths.

Also not helping matters is the mix, where Anette's voice is not put front-and-center. She fades into the guitars far too often, and considering this is her solo album that should be focused on her, it's an inexcusable decision in the mixing process. Everyone involved here are highly respected, so I'm at a loss how Anette is not positioned as the star of her own album.

You get everything you need to know from the opener, "Heed The Call". You get a decent chorus where Anette doesn't pierce through the clamor, but also multiple sections of barked vocals that don't add to the melody, and even a quick interlude of a child singing. It's all bizarre, and tells us this is not going to be a record focused on delivering great hooks and melodic metal bliss. They are trying to 'experiment', and we all know you can't possibly win every time you try something different. Of course, let's aslo be honest here; the claim they are playing with various genres is a bit ridiculous. These are the same songs Magnus has always been writing, just with a growl here or there, or an extra keyboard.

What I can say in this record's favor is that it comes across better than "Strong" did. Whereas that record felt almost oppressive at times, and few of the hooks landed at all, this record is better at balancing the heavier and harsher elements with Anette and Magnus' traditional melody. These songs would still be better without any of the extraneous bits, but at least the core hooks are better this time around.

This is one of those cases where we need to draw the distinction between 'bad' and 'disappointing'. "Rapture" is a decent album. I don't hate it by any means. I can put it on and have a nice enough time listening to Anette doing her thing. "Rapture" is, however, quite a disappointing album. I know what Anette and Magnus are capable of, and this is not at the top of the list. Both of the albums she has done paired with Russell Allen are better, as are both of the albums she has done with The Dark Element, and none of those touch the one classic Alyson Avenue album. Even her first more pop-oriented solo album, which set her renaissance in motion, had one absolutely killer song in "Falling", which is more than "Rapture" can boast.

Having set high expectations is a blessing and a curse. It means I adore many of Anette's previous works, but it also means I'm not going to settle for second best. Unfortunately, "Rapture" is just far enough removed from what I want to hear from Anette it tends to feel that way. Good things can still make you sad, and a tinge of that is what I take away most from "Rapture".

What Twenty Years Of "The End Of Heartache" Shows Us

Genres are like fads; while they may never die out, they will never burn as hot or as bright as when they left their mark on the culture. Nothing can stay popular forever, not with society changing with each new generation that comes along. Twenty years after the fact, it can be difficult to remember what a paradigm shift felt like, because we have lived so long on the new ground.

Killswitch Engage pioneered metalcore in the mainstream, and no one ever did it bigger or better. While many will point to "Alive Or Just Breathing" as the impetus, that was not the record that conquered the world. No, that would be "The End Of Heartache", which amazingly is celebrating it's twentieth anniversary. When I stop and think about how that means I've spent half my life listening to that album, time no longer feels like a straight line.

Rather than sit here and tell you a story you don't care about, I would rather take a look back at what these twenty years have given us. It's rather interesting to have seen and heard how a band that blazed a new trail wound up digging their rut deeper and deeper.

It started with "The End Of Heartache". Killswitch Engage had a new singer, a new hunger, and they tapped into a well no one had ever drilled so deep into. Their music was heavier, the production stronger, and Howard Jones' voice more emotional. It combined to form a steamroller of an album that took the brutality of metal, the pain of emo, and a degree of songwriting few metal bands have ever possessed. The blend was perfect, the timing was right, and the result was the defining album of that time. No one could live up to that, and Killswitch Engage single-handedly dragged the entire metalcore genre into the mainstream. At least it seemed that way.

They followed that by trying to be more. "As Daylight Dies" is one of the best sounding metal records ever made, but in trying to be both heavier and more melodic, the two ends pulls the strings apart enough that we could see through the weave. Little did we know, but in one album cycle the genre had already fallen off.

The self-titled album over-corrected, going too far into melodic rock for most listeners (but not me). If this was metalcore moving forward, Killswitch Engage was marching alone. And indeed they saw the writing on the wall, as when Howard Jones left the band, they returned to their own past, dredging up the still fresh memories of Jess Leach's time in the band.

What is remarkable about this now longest period of Killswitch Engage's career is how... safe it all feels. The records come fairly regularly, they're all well-crafted, and they mostly disappear from the zeitgeist. It happens to many bands that they find a sound they are comfortable with, and they play the hits back again and again. The difference is that with the lineup change, it felt fully intentional to backtrack to their familiar sound. Again and again, the band makes records that sound like "The End Of Heartache", but never quite match the fire or passion that album captured.

Twenty years on, what has become clear is what we experience both from bands like AC/DC who essentially make the same record time and again, and also artists like Taylor Swift who literally make the same album again to get back the rights; songs are not everything - recordings matter. You can never recreate a performance exactly, and the magic you capture on tape once may never come again.

Killswitch Engage found that magic when they recorded "The End Of Heartache". The record stands up these years later as a fresh, vital, and stirring reminder of what you can achieve when you pour yourself into making music. It also serves as a warning, because it set a bar even they could not live up to. By reverting to form, and by churning out records that mine the same territory, they have in essence reminded us they'll never be as good as they once were.

That's true of everyone, but some make more of an effort to hide it. Of course, when you have one masterpiece to your credit, you probably don't need to shy away from taking your well-deserved credit.

Album Review: Powerman 5000 - "Abandon Ship"

Twenty-five years ago, Powerman 5000 gave unto an expectant world “Tonight the Stars Revolt!” a hammering, genre-defining classic that helped set the tempo for pop-beat groove metal for all years to come.  It was a watershed moment for the band as well, as they shed the mortal coil of their raw and underdeveloped debut “The Blood Splat Rating System” and emerged draped in robo-space-suited glory as the vanguard of a new millennium of multi-genre-infused metal.

From there, the band’s twisted history reads something like a Greek tragedy.  Loss, betrayal, the weight of expectation, record labels collapsing, an album that didn’t see the light of day for fifteen years, shifting cultural and marketplace sands and not least of all, the changing mores of a fickle and digitally diffusing audience.

Through it all, PM5K (as fans will forever know and refer to them,) has persevered, with a lot of different iterations of the band.  The look, feel and sound have all changed with the ages, including a brief whirlwind return dalliance with the spacesuits.

It would be impossible for Poweman 5000 to be the band they were a quarter century ago, and it would additionally be unfair to ask them to be.  Try to think of all the bands you’ve ever heard who are the same in their fourth decade as they were in their first.  I’ll spot you two: AC/DC and Overkill.  …And, I think we’re done here.

With all that said, Powerman 5000’s new album “Abandon Ship” might be as close to the band we remember from 1999 as any of their records in the interim.  It is, in many ways, the band’s attempt to have their cake and eat it, too – an amalgam of all the band’s variants into one blended whole.

For surely, “Invisible Man” and the self-referential “1999” sound like cuts we would have heard at the dawn of this new millennium.  All the hallmarks are there in abundance; the thin guitar, the chunky, unreal overdrive when the rhythm hits, the omnipresent beat superseding beyond all.  Spider’s whispered vocals are equal parts coaxing and threatening, imprinting his idiomatic presence into his band’s fabric like a signature.  Through it all, the descending scales that so colored Powerman’s most memorable efforts.  It’s truly these haunting tones that takes the listener back in memory, that makes “The Company Loves Misery” sound like a twenty-first century, matured version of “They Know Who You Are.”

Not to be confined to one idea, Spider returns to his beat-driven, pop-based dreams for the marching cadence of “This is a Life” and the energetic two-step of “Dancing Like We’re Dead.”  All of a sudden, we’ve nostalgically moved away from the halcyon days to the wild experimentation of “Somewhere on the Other Side of Nowhere,” and the turbo-industrial pop of “Builders of the Future,” replete with stuttering, machine-gun guitars to accentuate the corners in the breakdown.  The changes in style are subtle but unmistakable among the learned.

For all that achievement though, there’s a cut almost halfway down the album where the worlds truly collide (sorry, I had to.)  “Wake Up Take Up Space” is the album’s heart and soul and center – a song where every album Powerman 5000 has ever released leaves its mark on a single three-minute piece of music.  (Well, except for maybe “Transform” and “Destroy What You Enjoy.”)  It’s got the signature chug, the singalong chorus, the overdriven downbeat, the pounding insistence that fans crave from the band, all eras rolled into one, highlighted by Spider’s monotone menace.  If it took twenty-five years to write this song, it was worth it.

And then at the end (for the CD release, anyway,) a (very slightly) re-imagined version of “Bombshell,” a holdover single from 2001’s “Anyone for Doomsday?” an album who’s history is convoluted enough to deserve it’s own Wikipedia page.  This song must surely feel like unfinished business to Spider; in the wake of the band’s multi-platinum superstardom, “Bombshell” is the follow-up single that never was.  Some of it was no doubt band timing.  As Spider said to me in an interview some years ago, who knows if anyone would have even played a song called “Bombshell” in the aftermath of 9/11.  Nevertheless, the song has remained in the band’s setlists all these years hence, and here it is again.

On the silver anniversary of an all-time genre classic, we are faced with an album that to some degree attempts to re-create that fateful spark.  Critics may suggest that “Abandon Ship” is perhaps a little into an unyielding mold in that regard, but the resultant shoe certainly fits, and Spider and company seem comfortable enough wearing it.  In an era where all media seems consumed by the perceived sure thing of capitalizing on nostalgia, “Abandon Ship” offers us another permutation of the only workable and worthy template for success in that space – allowing us to fondly remember the past while still giving us something new to bite into.

Singles Roundup: Kerry King, Sarah & The Safe Word, Ad Infinitum, & Nightmare

Let's see which direction the arrow points this week.

Kerry King - Residue

The second single from Kerry's solo debut is out, and it offer precisely zero surprises. Yet again, it not only sounds like Kerry King's writing, but every decision was made to have the recording sound as much like Slayer as possible. Late-era Slayer wasn't particularly interesting to begin with, so an inauthentic version of the same thing isn't going to be an easier sell. What I find most amusing about this song is the lyric, where Kerry writes "I'm in mental retrograde." I suppose it's nice of Kerry to realize the dumbing-down of his writing over the years as I have regularly complained about, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry to fix the problem. This song is perfunctory, as expecting anything more than what Slayer had been up to would be silly. Before they announced their comeback to the stage, I would have commended Kerry for at least keeping Slayer in mothballs. Now that I can't do that, I'm struggling to see the point in him not just using the name for this stuff.

Sarah & The Safe Word - Pornstar Martini

"The Book Of Broken Glass" was a surprise when I ran across it, and it ended up being on of my favorite albums of that year. Their first single since then has a lot to prove, and unfortunately can't find the same charm that won my over on the full-length. This track takes more influence from Motown, and there is certainly a fun atmosphere to the sound. It's a bit like Twin Temple's approach, but with the camp factor painted in bright color instead of monochrome. The idea is great, but the song itself doesn't have a very strong hook. When the chorus hits, and the voice coos the title, it just seems rather weak, and not at all as powerful and sexy as the title would have us wanting.

Ad Infinitum - Outer Space

I'm always a bit nervous with one-off singles, both because it means the band probably didn't have other songs to compare with and choose the best one, but also because they sometimes indicate shifts and experiments that may not be welcome. This new song from Ad Infinitum is concerning in the third way; the groove of songwriting hadn't been established. Their last album was by far their best, and finally showed them hitting great hooks every time out. This song would be the worst one on that record, and I don't think works as a single at all. The hints of harsh vocals don't help matters, but it's the melody at fault. Melissa Bonny is a phenomenal singer, but the chorus on this sound doesn't sway, or move, or bounce, or hook. It's the sort of thing so smooth it slides right out of my ears after I hear it.

Nightmare - Nexus Inferis

I'm still not sure what to think about this upcoming Nightmare album. The first song released did not impress me, nor did the production to any favors to their new singer. This song is better in every way, save one. The writing is better, sounding right in line with their last two very enjoyable records. The production is better, as the vocals now sit high enough to get a better sense of her voice. She has a good tone, sounding very much in line with the gritty voice of Maggy Luyten from the "Dead Sun" album I loved so much. The issue is that once again she doesn't have the power on display in her voice to keep up with the very heavy guitars the band is known for. She comes across a bit overwhelmed by the rest of the band, and the disconnect between the band and the voice is jarring enough to keep me from being fully immersed. So yeah, I'm still on the fence here.

Album Review: Cold Years - A Different Life

Two years ago, I stumbled across a record that nearly won Album Of The Year, and might have if it wasn't for one song in particular from the eventual winner that hit me like a ton of bricks. The record in question was from Cold Years, and was exactly the blend of Green Day's "Warning" and Jimmy Eat World's "Futures" I could have asked for. It was bouncing and melodic, but played with a darker guitar sound that gave everything extra emotional depth. I've listened to the record time and again since it came out, and it remains every bit as powerful as the first time I heard it. Cold Years immediately shot up the list of newer bands I have hopes and expectations for, so today is an important day.

Following up a great record isn't easy, as you have two paths you could choose to take, and neither is without pitfalls. If you cling too closely to the glory, the result can be a facsimile that only reminds people the new record probably can't hit as hard as the original. If you go in a new direction, the result can drift away from what people loved about your music. The choice is difficult, dangerous, and it's why I have such a difficult time establishing long-lasting relationships with bands or artists.

"A Different Life" is indeed a different album than "Goodbye To Misery" was. In fact, at certain times they don't even sound like the same band made them. Gone is the entire sonic palate I loved so much, replaced with a lighter sound more in line with current pop-punk, so much so even the vocals feel alien to me. I don't know if it was a production choice, but the tonal shift from one album to the next is utterly jarring.

I also don't know if the songs come across as they do because of the choices, or if the choices were made to fit the songs. This record is less of a gut-punch, with a feeling that drifts more toward optimism. The pop-punk sound does befit that approach, but it leaves the record feeling a bit sterile and hollow to me. I'm missing the deeper and fuller mix, and I'm especially missing the more passionate sounding vocals. Even when there's a moment of grit thrown in, the production is thin and flat in a way where it doesn't move the air naturally.

In fact, when the singles for the record started to roll out, the first thing I thought was a mistake was made and the vocals were accidentally pitch-shifted up a step. What was a rumble in his chest on "Goodbye To Misery" now sounds like a sore throat on this record. I'm not sure if I've ever encountered this phenomenon before where a singer's voice moves into higher and thinner territory. I'm hoping this is an artifact of a terrible recording, because otherwise it means the emotional connection I had with Cold Years may be impossibly severed.

As for the songs, the news is better. While they don't have the same power and energy as the songs on "Goodbye To Misery", the bands still produces some lovely melodic moments. Whether it's the chorus of "Low" that doesn't get a reprise at the end, or the reminiscence of "Youth", there are tracks here that remind me of why I had such high hopes for this album.

Unfortunately, those hopes are what make listening to the album such a difficult experience. Through the whole of the running time, I can't escape the question; What happened? The whole of the record sounds too laid-back, too nonchalant. There is a time and a place for detachment as a tool, but this record isn't that place. It works for Taylor Swift on her cold synth-pop, because she's trying to express how she is trying to move past and bury her feelings. Cold Years is a rock and roll band, and that music dies when it doesn't sound like it's being played with passion. That's the most lasting impression this record gives me.

It brings me no joy to say any of this. I wanted to love this record, and in fact it's one of the albums I've been most looking forward to this year. It's a good record, but it's good in the way that is pleasant and 'nice', not in the way that gets under my skin and makes me want to listen to it every day. Good music can still be disappointing, as this year has proven time and again. It's going to be a few cold years until the band can show me whether this record or "Goodbye To Misery" was the fluke.

VK Lynne Searches For "Stable" Ground

Life is a series of steps; some we take of our own accord, and some we find ourselves taking because there is no other path to follow. What we don't always stop and remember is that the very act of moving forward is one of losing control only to regain it, repeated to the point we lose our ability to sense how tenuous or grip is. As we walk toward that new exciting thing, or run away from our latest fear, we are falling toward the ground until we catch ourselves to make the next step.

Stability is a bit of an illusion that way. Whether we are looking for things to remain as they were in a hectic world that sometimes seems hell-bent on testing us, or we are trying to feel grounded in our own emotional state, stability may or may not be the best thing for us. Perhaps it is instability that will tip us toward something beautiful we would not have uncovered on our own, but when we are fighting to make it from one moment to the next, what we need most is room to breathe. That's what stability offers us.

On this month's song, VK Lynne sings us a torch ballad pleading for just that moment to pause and catch herself. As she mentions not being able to see the answers she is looking for through glasses of wine, we are treated to a powerful reminder of how much music can be the saving grace we are looking for. In telling our stories, in giving them the beauty only a human voice can convey, we connect with something bigger than ourselves. It is that sense of community with others who have been through the same thing, or the sense of understanding there is far more to this universe that we will ever know, that puts into perspective how we need to be able to let certain things go when they aren't healthy for us.

I know I have failed at that my entire life, and continue to fail at it, but making peace with our demons remains the rock we push up that hill.

It's not easy to be vulnerable in song, to paint a blue portrait with your voice. Softer tones only cut through when you put your everything into them, slowly pushing the knife until the surface finally gives way. Perhaps this will not sound as much like VK is bleeding her truth for us, but that's because this is something far more intimate. The sparse arrangement lets us hear the piano notes echo, and gives only a tight-wire for VK's voice to make this journey across.

That she does it with aplomb should come as no surprise, but the feat is impressive no matter how many times it is achieved. As I have sometimes slipped from my own stability over recent times, what brings me back is the emotional power of music. It has been all too rare to find singers who are able to truly connect with the listener through a recording, to push their entire soul through the speakers, but it is nearly the only thing I look for anymore. It's no wonder why I'm so often disappointed, but never by VK.

Feats of instrumental prowess are impressive, but not in the same way a song like "Stable" is. The best art of any kind makes us feel from the depths of our own souls, makes us feel like we know the same place the inspiration came from. It doesn't matter if we are right or not, just that we feel, because that is the very essence of what it means to be human. What makes us unique creatures is our ability to understand the world around us, to see the ways is which it is designed to beat us down, and yet to still fight back and believe we can find the place where none of that matters anymore.

What I can say is that I hope this song has helped VK find that stable place, and it will certainly speak to those who find themselves similarly reaching out. Making music like this, there will be a community there to catch VK if there is ever another time when it feels too hard to stand tall and proud. We should all be so lucky.

"Stable" releases on April 30th. Pre-save it here.

Album Review: Taylor Swift - The Tortured Poets Department

The cliche about artists being tortured souls is tired, but that doesn't stop there from being drips of truth leaking through. There is something about art that requires good artists to mine their souls for inspiration, to be willing and able to slice off thin sashimi of their own hearts to present to the world. Pain often fuels art, but making and sharing that same art is a different kind of pain. It is an existential terror to strip yourself down to your strongest emotions, put yourself on display, and hope the audience is drawn in to give you a hug.

If there's an audience at all.

Taylor Swift doesn't need to worry on that point, having just completed one of the greatest years in pop culture history. Her 'Eras Tour' was so massive it shifted economies, her presence was able to balloon the already gigantic ratings of NFL games, and oh yeah, she was also named 'Person Of The Year' by Time. And she did all of that while finding love.

Have I ever mentioned that I kind of hate people who are happy?

This record, though, was the way she was able to get to that point. These songs are the end of her last relationship, and the segue into this new phase of world domination. Even though a tv character once joked that he could use his greedy money to buy "happiness, and stop trying to cheer me up," all the success in the world doesn't prevent Taylor Swift from hurting like anyone else when relationships fall apart. And unlike most of her peers, she has the lyrical prowess to put us in the room like one of those true crime documentaries.

"Midnights" had a very specific sound, and this record is the sound of the hours that follow. The chiming of the clock again and again cracked things open, and what poured out became these songs. The production is the same chill, cold pop that we heard on "Midnights", which is an interesting commentary on how the very idea of breakup albums has changed over the years. When "Blood On The Tracks" set the standard, Bob Dylan was an angry man using his voice to tear through his poetic rantings. Conversely, Taylor cuts with her words, using her voice as a detached statement of how she's leaving this era behind. It isn't anger, it's a resignation of how much time she wasted on a past that is now a relic.

I understand the sentiment, and it's probably a healthier option than spending the months it takes to make a record wallowing in a seething resentment. What I don't understand as much is the way the production fits in with heartbreak, as the electronic nature of the quiet songs doesn't resonate with me in a way that stirs my own feelings. The layer of artificial sound clashes with the authenticity of the lyrics, feeling a bit like a laminated diary where the lamp glares across the words as I'm trying to understand what Taylor is saying.

The other thing is that while her head was spinning with the various ways she was reliving the end of that period of life (as evidenced by the last-minute revelation of a second album of songs), she once again packs her album with a few too many songs. Between the density of her language, and the deep well she is pulling from, a full hour-plus of this dilutes the impact of each great song. You can forget about me speaking eloquently on two full records worth of these songs.

There are great songs on here. "Guilty As Sin?" sounds like a hit to me, and "But Daddy I Love Him" slithers into my head, but there are also songs that wallow a bit too much to pick up that kind of killer instinct. The same thing happened with "Midnights", whereas the more organic nature of "Folklore" could feel honest even when it was telling fictions. I appreciate the endless torrent of creativity Taylor possesses, but a record like this demands a level of attention I'm not sure it repays.

The lowest moment is undoubtedly "I Can Do It With A Broken Heart", where the programmed drums are so loud and incessant it reminds me of my worst days before I outgrew nausea-inducing headaches. It is a pounding that doesn't need to grow tiresome, because I'm ready to unplug the machine after the very first four bars... or find an open bar to numb myself to the point I can't hear them.

This era of Taylor Swift's career is difficult for me because she is playing with sounds I don't fully understand. She is the greatest pop lyricist of this generation, and her knack for writing songs that are hard to shake is the only connection I have to pop music anymore. I want to love this record, and I want to be able to say my own sadness finds spaces in these songs to resonate, but I'm not sure I can quite do that. Like "Midnights", there is half an album of truly mesmerizing music I don't think anyone else in the mainstream could make, but there is also half an album of songs that fly over my head. Perhaps in time I will come around on those tracks, and the full hour spent with Taylor will be a therapy session for me.

I hope so, but I'm feeling doubtful.

My Top Ten Songs... Ever

Thought experiments are interesting, because tracking the way our beliefs and opinions change through time is a clear example of how we are never the same people for very long. Biologically, we are entirely new people every seven years or so, but yet our mind and soul carries on unchanged. Or does it? Every experience we have teaches us, and changes us, and sometimes it's worth taking note of that fact, because it's easy to get stuck thinking whatever once was is what must always be. That simply isn't true.

For this thought experiment, I took up perhaps the hardest challenge yet. Listing my twenty favorite albums isn't easy, and picking ten for a desert island can be difficult, but that is nothing compared to trying to pare down an entire life of music listening into just ten songs that are irreplaceable.

This list is a combination of songs that I've listened to the most, loved the most, and been most affected by. They are the songs that serve as the markers showing the path I have been down, and that may have pointed me in directions without being aware of it. I won't try to rank them one-through-ten. Just let it be known they are the first-ballot Hall Of Fame songs in my memory palace.

Blues Traveler - Hook

Does one become a cynic, or was one always a cynic? That seems an odd question to ask when we're talking about an upbeat pop song, but what has kept "Hook" from ever leaving my mind these last thirty years is not just a harmonica solo I put above everything I've ever heard played on a guitar. True story. No, what makes this song an undying echo is that it opened my eyes to cynicism, and did so by proving everything it said was true. It's actually genius if you think about it, and I'm not sure I've ever heard a better example of a 'screw the audience' joke in song.

Dilana - Falling Apart

If anyone ever asks, this is what I say is currently my favorite song. From the very first time I saw a grainy video of it being performed live, there has been something about this song that hit me like nothing else. The combination of my favorite voice in the world, and a message that resonates with someone who often feels broken, is a balm nothing else can quite match. Some songs are like a warm hug when the world has given you the cold shoulder, and that is what this song means to me. We may all be "bloody fucked up", but moments like this let us know we're not alone in feeling that way. If the stereotypical image of Heaven turns out to be real, this is what a certain angel will be playing, at least within earshot of me.

Graham Colton - I Can't Stand Here Waiting

If you ask me what's so great about this song (at least the version I'm talking about - which I believe is still unavailable online), it's hard to figure. It doesn't have a nifty guitar riff, nor is the hook the pop gem that will get sampled over and over by desperate artists. No, this is a case more of honesty, where Graham's vocal as he talks about not being able to wait while the lights fade around him is something that hits me hard, because I feel like my life has been nothing but waiting, only mine is for the lights to come back on. It almost serves as a song warning people about where I am, and maybe that's enough of a rope to climb back up.

Guns N Roses - November Rain

As mentioned, I'm not the biggest fan of guitar solos, despite being a guitar player. The biggest exception to that is this song, where all three of Slash's solos are burned into my memory. This song is the perfect balance of pompous ass-hattery from Axl, and glorious rock coolness from Slash. Neither side would work without the other, and I think what I love is that it showed the formula of the Meat Loaf music I first fell in love with was actually timeless. Like it or not, this was a glam version of that same thing. Obviously, I love it.

Matchbox Twenty - Bent

Returning to that familiar theme, a song about being damaged goods always stands a strong chance of resonating with me. This one came out at a time when I was particularly unsure of myself, as defining who you are is difficult when you are doing it disconnected from anyone who can tell you that you're wrong. This song came out while I was in high school, and perhaps the sad resignation of it is the perfect memory of that chapter of life. It's hard to remove a memory once it's been etched, so turning it into beautiful music is easier.

Meat Loaf - I'd Lie For You (And That's The Truth)

While it's easy to think of Meat Loaf and Jim Steinman as inseparable, the truth of the matter is that my favorite Meat Loaf song was actually written by Diane Warren. Sure, it's a pastiche trying very hard to mine the same territory, but it is an imposter, and yet I have adored this song for nearly thirty years. Maybe it has to do with how often I lie to myself, maybe I find Patti Russo to be the best duet partner Meat ever had, or maybe it's just that the drama hits the slight bit harder without Steinman's penchant for sarcasm and sex jokes. I love the bombast, I love the guitar solo (which I don't get to say often enough), and the false ending is just perfect. The two years between "Bat Out Of Hell II" and this album were just enough where I was old enough to 'get it' more this time. That might still be true.

Meat Loaf - I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)/Jim Steinman - Bad For Good

I am going to cheat here, because I'm not sure how to choose between the song that gave me love for music, and the song that most defines the man I've looked to for inspiration more than anyone else. As I have said countless times, I believe much of my personality was formed around the music written by Jim Steinman, and the enigmatic lyrics of "I'd Do Anything For Love" are a perfect example of that. The self-pity is a part of my core, the blue humor I don't think a lot of people heard at first bubbles under in my own comedy, and the fact he was able to say something important about the character's desires without nearly anyone understanding the truth is a skill I put to use with regularity. That said, Steinman's confession to the rock and roll gods on his solo album is every bit as important, because it is the realization and embrace that we're never going to change. We're going to be who we are, because that's all we can be.

Natalie Imbruglia - Torn

When this song celebrated it's 25th anniversary, I made the controversial statement that it is the sexiest song I have ever heard. Yes, I know how terribly lame that sounds, but it happens to be my truth. Seeing the video play on VH-1, and hearing Natalie's breathy voice sing about being naked on the floor, was a moment of awakening. I didn't know it at the time, but I do now. Great songs give us feelings we can't get from anything else in life, and that's what I take from "Torn". It is a glorious bit of music that wraps up sadness, passion, ennui, and everything else into a package that burrows into my head. It sounds simple when you hear it, until you know how hard it is to strike gold.

Tonic - If You Could Only See

The first time I decided I had a favorite song, it was this one. There was something about the dynamics that caught my ear, and even though my young mind was initially wrong about what the song was trying to tell me, it stuck with me. It ate away at my subconscious, and slowly convinced me that music was more than something I listened to for amusement. Music was more important than that, it was something deeper, it was a part of me. I picked up a guitar to learn to play this song, and I started writing songs to see if I could replicate the magic I felt in this one. Maybe I never got quite there, but any song that changes the trajectory of your life is held close to the heart.

The Wallflowers - One Headlight

I don't like to make the simple picks, but sometimes they are inevitable. While "Bringing Down The Horse" is not my favorite Wallflowers album, nor the one that has influenced me the most, it is "One Headlight" that stands above everything else as the defining song of my relationship with the band. There is something about the slightly ominous tone of the guitars that wraps itself around Jakob Dylan's voice, fitting perfectly with the story of death and hopelessness. It was the details about cheap wine and engines that wouldn't start that pushed lyrics to the forefront of my mind. While the next album was the one that set me on the path of being a writer, I can't deny that "One Headlight" lit the way. And yes, I fully embrace how bad that pun is.