Less than a minute into In Tall Buildings' 2010 self-titled debut is a moment that hints at Erik Hall's cut-and-paste method. New vocal lines burst abruptly from beneath the previous ones, as if overeagerly jumping their cue. But the music is so carefully constructed that it's obvious this was a choice rather than a mistake, and the effect in an otherwise patient and gentle song is the understanding of a clear vision behind the music.
The album was crafted over four years, Hall said in a phone interview this week promoting his February 15 performance at Rozz-Tox. "I didn't push it at all," he said. "I didn't work on it unless something came to me, unless I had an idea that I knew I wanted to apply to the music that I was already working on. So it was very gradual."
While the album's gestation period was long by music-industry standards, Hall's composing and recording approaches were particularly unusual. He started out with a backbone - a chord progression or rhythmic pattern - and recorded it for the final product. "That's it," he said. "It's not like a demo. ... Sometimes I have to sit and live with that for a good while before I figure out where the vocals are going to come from, what the song is going to be about, and what else sonically it needs." He added with a laugh: "That can take anywhere from a week to a year."
For Wet Hair singer and keyboardist Shawn Reed, being experimental is the only thing he can do. "Unless it's weird and challenging, I'm just bored with it," he said in a phone interview this week. "It just doesn't feel important to me."
Meaningful education reform is always fraught with political peril. By definition, it challenges the status quo. There are also disparate vested interests - from teacher unions to parents to school administrators, districts, and boards. Depending on the approach, reform can be onerous on schools, teachers, or taxpayers (or all three). And, of course, children and their futures are at stake, and by extension so is the long-term health of the state itself.
Paris Suit Yourself, "Sometimes." From the flat, stuttering riff to the woodblock accents to the falsetto vocals, this one plays a bit like a parody of Queens of the Stone Age, which itself has occasionally seemed like a parody. But as I've long said about the songs of Spinal Tap: There are a lot of bands that would be proud to have made "Big Bottom" and "Stonehenge." It's such a fine line between stupid and clever, and even when you're on the wrong side, sometimes it works.
Hella, "Self Checkout." Back in 2005, I described the guitar-and-drums duo Hella as a "spastic, manic, lightning-speed instrumental racket, equal parts math rock and free jazz, calculation and improvisation ... . It's strange and arresting, and - shockingly - instantly accessible if you keep your mind and ears open." Thankfully, not much has changed. The secret of Hella generally and "Self Checkout" in particular is its violent lyricism - the feelings and wordless narrative crafted in the context of the din. As you might expect, there's anger and frustration, but joy sneaks through; you can almost feel the exuberance of creation and the rush of nailing it.
