Lana Del Rey – Born To Die

2 February 2012

Lana Del Rey - Born To Die
Can I be honest for a moment? There is no way in hell Lana Del Rey’s album should be as good as it is. When an album is led by all the obvious singles – the title track, Blue Jeans and Video Games have already been released, and I would be completely stunned if Off to the Races didn’t get the single treatment – that is never a good sign; the words ‘safety net’ come to mind. And yes, the first four songs on the album are the best by quite a stretch, but that is not to say that there is a massive drop-off in quality. Born to Die is surprisingly well-rounded; it’s hugely front-loaded, sure, but then again, most pop albums are.

I was expecting Lizzie Grant to crash and burn, but the truth of the matter is that her new record does not need to live up to its superlative beginnings. It was never going to be the finished article, despite all the hype (and my god, the hype quickly became insufferable), and what we’re left with is an album that is good. Surprisingly good, in my opinion, and flat-out brilliant in some places. Video Games is a fantastic single and works just as well in album context as it does on its own. It’s a shame that there’s not really any hidden gem present on the remainder of the album, although Summertime Sadness gives the last third of the album a well-timed shot in the arm.

I say well-timed, because even though all the songs on Born to Die are ‘good’ to various extents, the production becomes a bit samey after a while: strings are present across the entire album; the beats, when present, are all cut from the same cloth; and there is a considerable amount of reverb on Del Rey’s vocals throughout. That last technique is necessary, however – despite Del Rey having a good voice and an agreeable singing style, her range seems limited, to the extent that she has resort to things like the semi-rapped delivery on Off to the Races (and borderline yelping during the chorus).

When using her lower register, the results are better, as Radio and National Anthem attest to – even if the latter suffers from poor lyrics (a criticism that could be levelled at several songs on the album; more on this later): ‘Money is the reason we exist / Everybody knows it, it’s a fact (kiss kiss)’. Really, Lizzie? there are a number of similar declarations on the album, and the only conclusion that can be drawn from that is that she’s drawing from a fairly shallow pool of lyrical content. On that note: I can’t tell whether ‘Pabst Blue Ribbon on ice’ from closer This is What Makes Us Girls is amusing or cringeworthy.

So: melodramatic production, lyrics that often enter clichéd territory and pacing issues. This must mean it’s bad, right? Obviously, your mileage will vary on that (and this is an opinion-splitting record), but the songs themselves are the best thing about Born to Die, which is the way it should be. Stripping away all the bullshit about her contrived image, and nervous live performances (of course she’s going to be nervous – riding a wave of hype for six months will do that to most anyone), the end result is an album that is consistently enjoyable.

Say what you want about her, but when it comes down to the songs, there is enough evidence here to suggest that Grant is not dead yet. You can call her a guilty pleasure if you want, but I don’t do guilty pleasures. I like what I like, and I like this album. Is it flawed? Definitely. Has she got work to do? Yes she does, without a doubt. Has she got potential? Absolutely. Whether you love her, hate her or are completely indifferent towards her, Lana Del Rey is here to stay.

All The Saints – Intro to Fractions

By: Carrow

1 February 2012

In: News & Leaks, Reviews

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Repetition works. I didn’t particularly need any reminding of that statement – after all, certain sub-genres of music have already established repetition as their foundations, such as some forms of electronica, not to mention krautrock – but when it’s used by a band to deliberately rein themselves in, it is so much more effective. Atlanta, Georgia’s All the Saints [Facebook] would know all about that, because their impeccable sense of restraint is what makes their second album, Intro to Fractions, such a compelling listen. It’s not the most immediate album around by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s packed with melodic urgency and drive.

Had its creators wanted to go all-out, their new record would have been overwhelming. They’re much better off with crafting a different kind of intensity, though – the songs on this album rarely, if ever, cut loose, the band preferring to build on what’s already been laid down rather then veering off into new tangents. The changes in texture and dynamics are incredibly subtle, meaning that Intro to Fractions needs to be listened to quite closely. It’s a very rewarding 35 minutes, and the group’s shoegaze-inspired compositions reveal themselves over multiple listens. It’s the kind of album that needs to be paid attention to, even if, in relative terms, not that much goes on. Are you following?

Gradual crescendos seem to be the order of the day: opener Half Red, Half Way gets by on one chord for most of the song, spiralling towards a speaker-shredding climax that the likes of My Bloody Valentine would be proud of. The production is far more refined, however – things aren’t maxed out, and are given plenty of breathing space, meaning that when things get loud – as the close of Alteration proves – they have double the impact.

Some songs here are deliberately left in an unpolished state. The hazy psychedelia evident on 4H Trip is meant as a segue into the next part of the album; as a sort of interlude after the claustrophobic feel of its opening songs. It bleeds nicely into Host, one of the more menacing-sounding songs on the record, reverb-soaked vocals underpinned by simple yet potent drumming and a chill-inducing bassline.

There aren’t really many criticisms that can be levelled at Intro to Fractions. One would probably expect an album like it to fall off on the back half; the opposite is true, and it ends up getting better as it goes on, the result being a promising beginning, an intriguing middle (with the band making sure to keep things as diverse as they can manage) and a rewarding end. It may be a little difficult to stomach for some people, but the important thing is that it remains focused throughout. With very little – guitar, bass, drums and vocals, no trimmings – it gets rather a lot done.

The Twilight Sad – No One Can Ever Know

By: Carrow

23 January 2012

In: News & Leaks, Reviews

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There is something about the cover art for the new Twilight Sad [Facebook/Twitter] record that is disturbing. Even for a band who deal in almost exclusively dark imagery, the eye-catching sleeve for No One Can Ever Know is a whole other level of scary. Its intrigue is increased when paired with the album’s title. The phrase ‘no one can ever know’ hints at dark secrets, deeds committed in the dead of night that must never be spoken of. It’s just the kind of thing you’d expect them to call an album, in fact, but their third album is about the furthest thing from a ‘typical’ Twilight Sad release as it is possible to get – and it might just be their best one yet.

I realise I’ve just put my head above the parapet, but bear with me, because I’ve been living with this album for the best part of six weeks at this stage, and I am not making that statement lightly. In my preview piece last month, I likened the album’s sound to the peaks of the careers of Nine Inch Nails and Manic Street Preachers: The Downward Spiral and The Holy Bible, and since then, my initial reaction’s proved correct; it has the cold production of the former and the hooks of the latter, but this is no mere homage. It’s still very much The Twilight Sad, and it couldn’t really be anyone else.

Thanks for this must go, at least in part, to James Graham’s lyrics, which are a paradox of cryptic imagery and detailed scenarios, leaving the listener to fill in the blanks; it’s like he’s an artist who produces a complex sketch but deliberately leaves it at that, and the viewer is left to imagine what else might be. Just one example of this is album opener Alphabet, where, over relentless drumming and a soaring synth line, he captures the desperation of a relationship (I say relationship, but this is my own reading of the lyrics, and they are open-ended enough for any number of meanings to be discerned from them): ‘So sick to death of the sight of you now / Safe to say I never wanted you more.’

Having set out its stall, No One Can Ever Know immediately becomes more intense. The bass riff on Dead City is downright evil, and the song itself is six-and-a-half minutes of the band at their most claustrophobia-inducing. Even when the chorus hits and the song shifts to a major key, it’s only a brief respite, and after the second chorus, anchored by that riff, the song builds to a stunning climax, establishing itself as perhaps the darkest thing the band have ever done – though it’s given a run for its money by album closer Kill It In the Morning, which is driven by yet more menacing bass, and has the most impressive finish on the entire album.

The singles chosen from the record so far are arguably the most accessible songs on it: Sick is reminiscent of The Antlers, albeit with more electronics and a vocalist with a Scottish accent, while the propulsive rhythm section on Another Bed (not to mention a huge chorus) make the song immediately arresting, masking the fact that Graham’s lyrics are at their most menacing, loaded with ominous threat: ‘You’re breaking your back in the new low / I’ll find you, don’t worry.’

The album is nine songs long, and doesn’t mess about, each one of them composed to the highest standard, and containing at least one moment that is shiver-inducing. There are multiple layers to these tracks, too: in that respect, the new record is business as usual for The Twilight Sad. In most others, however (I can’t honestly say I thought they had a song like Nil in them), it’s something new, brave and completely brilliant. They always make an effort to experiment with their sound on each album, and they’ve pushed themselves so much that they’re almost like a totally different band now. They say change is good, but rarely is change anywhere near as good as this.

No One Can Ever Know is released on February 6th through FatCat Records.
[PRE-ORDER] The Twilight Sad – No One Can Ever Know @ FatCat | Amazon

Another Bed

Sick

Kill It In the Morning