Singles Roundup: Skid Row, Avantasia, Ascendia, & Stryper

This week's collection of singles show that there isn't always a bright side to look forward to.

Skid Row - Time Bomb

Even when a band makes a good decision, it can still be a disappointment. This song is a great case in point. Erik is a great choice to be the band's newest new singer (I'll leave the drama alone). His voice is great, and I love his work on H.E.A.T.'s "Tearing Down The Walls", but this song is cringe-worthy. The heavy riff is pretty good, and Erik sounds really good through the verses. After an ok chorus, Erik goes into a line saying, "tick, tick, tick, tick, boom." Ugh. Not only does it sound stupid, but P.O.D. already did that twenty years ago. Behind the times, indeed. Hard pass.

Avantasia - The Inmost Light

Well, I'm definitely losing my enthusiasm for the upcoming album. This new song might be the least interesting of them all, being quite short, being too traditionally power metal, and being a showcase for Michael Kiske. Sure, I don't like his voice, but there isn't enough song around him to even care. The chorus comes and goes with almost no hint it was the chorus, and it once again shows me that Tobi has been far better at writing hard rock in the last fifteen years than power metal. My expectations have been appropriately lowered.

Ascendia - Parasite

Speaking of lowered expectations. I was quite quizzical when I heard Ascendia's comeback single, and I am similarly confused now. I know bands change and evolve, but it still sounds like such a hard shift from the first album to this. That might be ok, but the shift is to something far less interesting, and arguably not done as well either. The music has been streamlined, but this is another example of a band trying to write poppier songs, but failing to do so. What made them unique has been subsumed by a far more generic take, and I just don't find this nearly as appealing. They can't wring the same drama out of the mainstream that Light The Torch has, just as an example.

Stryper - Transgressor

Why do older rock musicians feel like they have to continually get heavier to prove they haven't lost anything? Stryper has been on that road for a while now, and it still feels weird coming from them. Michael Sweet's shrieking is painfully dated, and painful to listen to as well. "Painkiller" was thirty years ago, and people only thought it was cool then because they wanted to wash "Turbo Lover" out of their ears. Stryper doing the same thing doesn't have that same impact, especially when they are doing banshee screams about how you're going to wind up in Hell if you don't follow the Lord. I could write a lot about that, but I'm not going to bother, since this is only Stryper we're talking about. Michael Sweet freely admits he churns these things out, and I don't know if I can come up with anything better to say about the quality level here.

Album Review: The Wonder Years - The Hum Goes On Forever

I know there's no such thing as perfection, but there are albums with such glaring flaws, it's hard to understand why I like them despite the shortcomings. Very few albums are going to be song after song of nearly flawless beauty. I understand that, and a lot of my favorite records absolutely have low points I would change if I could. But those are usually one song on a record, not nearly half the track listing. When an album fits into that half-and-half range, I usually tend to dismiss them.

But every once in a while I find myself still listening, even when I know I would rather not sit through half of the thing. Can the pull of the great half of a record be enough to make up for that much dead weight?

That's what I've been asking myself about this new album from The Wonder Years. My attention was caught by one of the singles, and since I have been in a rather emo frame of mind this year, I gave the record a chance. From the very first time through, it was clear to me this was a record of halves. There are the up-tempo rockers where the emotion cascades through the melodies. Those tracks are fantastic. Then there are the slower, droning songs, where finding a melody is nearly impossible. Those tracks are a drag.

I've often wondered what it is about those sorts of songs that appeal to bands, where they feel such songs need to be included on their albums. All of us who play an instrument have hit upon an interesting riff and played it endlessly until we got it in our fingers. I've never confused that with writing a song, nor have I thought anyone would want to hear that same thing again and again and again, ad nauseum. But that's what songs like "Doors I Painted Shut" and "Songs About Death" are all about. They both come across as tone-setters, but they are stretched out into full songs, and as such ask for far too much of our attention. Combine those with the slow ballads, and five out of the dozen tracks could be cut without missing a thing.

When the band puts their power and energy into things, the results are amazing. "Wyatt's Song", "Oldest Daughter", "The Paris Of Nowhere", and "Lost In The Lights" are big, slightly dirty songs that use pop melody and emo vocals to establish a human connection between all of us. They remind us whatever we are feeling, there are others going through the same thing. Music can be that arm wrapped around our shoulder we most need.

Then there's the closing "You're The Reason I Don't Want The World To End", which builds a cathartic ending from the small moment of finding someone's glove in the pocket of your coat. When things seem their bleakest, it's the little details where we can find hope, and this song is a lovely reminder of that. It works wonderfully as a release of everything that builds up through the record, and it's the sort of thing emo can deliver that a lot of other genres simply can't. At least when it's done well.

Those good songs indeed do it well, so much so I've written this many words trying to explain how the bumps in the road have the jolts forgotten when the horizon is in sight as often as it is. This is one of those interesting albums I know I shouldn't be quite as fond of as I am, and yet, I have found myself playing it every day this week. That's hard to ignore.

Album Review: Destrage - "SO MUCH. too much."

It’s time to put my money where my mouth is.  Not so long ago as part of one of our long, rambling and occasionally poignant conversations, Chris and I, as we so often to, turned the lens to the faults that we perceive among the music editorial community.  Namely, we were analyzing the tendency of journalists to forgive all faults of favorite artists, and hand out high grades with what feels to us like specious examination.  I referred to it at the time, to turn the euphemism, as ‘playing for the name on the front of the jersey.’

Now, as if I haven’t already to this point, I’m going to commit a cardinal sin of journalism and make the story about me, at least for this next little bit.  (This, by the way, is a sin I seem to commit with increasing frequency.  Apologies for that.)

Destrage, hailing from Milan, Italy, is one of, if not straight up who I believe to be the best band working today.  Their combination of musical prowess and creativity and way-past-the-margins writing is unparalleled in the world of heavy music right now (Turisas could easily have held this title for longer if they’d bothered to make any new music in the last NINE YEARS.  I’m not bitter, I promise.)

And so we come to “SO MUCH. too much,” the latest album from the metal inventors.  The last two Destrage albums were both my selections for Album of the Year, and the third, “Are You Kidding Me? No.” was a hair’s breadth behind at number 2 (trailing only Red Eleven’s “Round II” by the thinnest of margins, and if you ask me on a given day, I might have them flipped.)  So in a year where there’s been a lot of albums I like, but few that I love, I was ready for Destrage to save the year and sweep everyone off the table, on this, their first record since parting ways with Metal Blade and moving to 3DOT Recordings.

And there’s a lot here to like.  There’s piles of stuff on “SO MUCH. too much.” that is laudable and praise-worthy.

And yet.

If I’m being honest, this album is not quite up to the part of their previous efforts.  Let’s take a walk through the bad stuff first, since I need that as background context for when we launch into the good stuff.

What Destrage has always excelled at, over and above everyone else in the business these days, is that no matter how far into madness the band ventures, and same as ever, there are deep forays into the musical abyss, there’s always been a rope tied around their waist that anchors them to digestible and accessible moments that fans can rally behind.  Normally this comes in the form of vaulted, majestic sing-along choruses with simple structures and gigantic hooks that are easy to sink into.

And I think that’s the piece that’s missing here, or more appropriately, the piece that’s missing with the band’s usual consistency.  Taking even the first single, “Everything Sucks and I Think I’m a Big Part of It,” wanders into a bunch of scattershot paths, but never circles back to collect the pieces and tie them together before jumping off the next cliff.  The otherwise sublime “Venice Has Sunk,” would have been an all-time classic if it had come back to Earth just a little.  Frustrating.

And yet, there are still plenty of reasons why this record stands out from the pack and is a worthy entry.  First and foremost, let’s highlight “Private Party,” dropped into the center of the album and featuring a guest appearance from confirmed crazy person Devin Townsend.  Destrage has at various times in their career (“Not Everything is Said” and “Before, After and All Around” come to mind, as well as “Rage, My Alibi,” if for content and not music,) colored their sound with something five percent akin to the best moment of Alice in Chains, and “Private Party” uses a similar vocal harmony to use that affect, but turned on its experimental metal ear.  The song is, in many ways, Destrage’s “Dance Macabre,” the song that fits the idiom and is infectious to listen to, but sits way out on the boundary.

We talked about “Venice Has Sunk” briefly, but let us take a second just to highlight the truly inspired musicianship and songcraft.  While the cut lacks the big chorus, the sheer talent of the band shows through in every moment.  “An Imposter” was a better KMFDM song than KMFDM wrote on their album this year, and starter “A Commercial Break That Lasts Forever,” reminds us all just how capable of Destrage can be when dropping the hammer.  The airy, melodic vocals juxtapose nicely against the violent backdrop to create a sound only Destrage has mastered.

And then, to cap off, we get a cover of the largely forgotten but accomplished Stone Temple Pilots cut “Vasoline,” and if the litmus test of a cover song is if a band can put their own spin on a classic, then Destrage succeeds here with flying colors.

Still, the album feels a little thin.  Once you get past “Private Party,” there’s “An Imposter,” which is good but not great, and the aforementioned cover, but the remaining songs on the back half of the record don’t reach or grasp with the customary strength we’ve come to expect from Destrage.

What we’re faced with here is an album that doesn’t quite slake the thirst for new Destrage material for those of us who were anticipating this record, but only because it falls a step below the impossibly high bar the band has set for themselves.  Relative to much of what else has come out this year, “SO MUCH. too much.” stands on a platform all its own.  But I have to be honest – is this a contender for the list of top albums to come out this year?  Sure.  But is it going to take home the crown?  Nope.

Being a Critic, And A Musician

In a sports context, we often hear people write off criticism by saying the people talking have never played the game, so their take is rather irrelevant. In some cases, this can indeed be true. There are absolutely nuances to a game that people who haven't played it will never know. For instance, how does the lay-person know if a football play was actually an RPO, as opposed to a shotgun run designed to look like it? Or if a throw was intended to be slightly behind the received, as opposed to being errant? We don't, and it would be nice if analysts could be more honest about what they do and don't know.

We don't hear the same thing in music as often, but it does come up from time to time. It usually doesn't take the form of claiming anyone who can't play a riff can't comment on whether or not one is interesting to listen to, but the more basic air of 'who are you to criticize?' definitely comes across.

Let's answer that question.

I am a critic, and I would argue it's by nature, although my particular academic training also pointed me in that direction. The combination of the two has imbued in me a sense of taste I won't call discerning, but will instead call narrow. I look for and note weaknesses, and I'm not as willing to spend my time praising things that don't live up to my standards.

I am also a musician, and that is where my standards derive from. I've been writing song for about twenty years now, and I'm at a place where I'm rather comfortable with my own abilities in that regard. I am no performer, but when it comes to sitting down with a guitar and a piece of paper, I am rather confident in what I can do. Saying that, when I am listening to new albums, and I can't help but think to myself that I write better songs, how am I supposed to talk in reverent terms about what I'm hearing?

This all comes down to taste, and I'm sure most people would disagree with my assessment of my own talents, which is fine. The point I'm making is that when I am critical of an album, whether it's because of a terrible lyric or a flat main hook, I am trying to speak from experience. I know what works for my ear, and I also know which roads taken by songwriters are easier than others.

To give an example; while it's easy to get impressed by a prog epic filled with flashy playing, there's another side to that story. Technically proficient players can easily spit out riffs and solos full of fast runs, but slowing down to deliver a melody a listener can remember is truly difficult. It's the difference between the solos in "Sweet Child O' Mine" and "Arpeggios From Hell". The same thing is true with singers, as often a vocalist with a powerful voice will write a melody where they are belting long notes. It's impressive technique, but is it as interesting a song as what Taylor Swift can do with far less power or range? I would say not. Talent often gets in the way of songwriting.

I'm not saying any of this to make myself look good. I know I am but a middle-of-the-road songwriter whose music is never going to be anything more than a source of pride for myself. The point is merely to say that if I am at that level, and the music being promoted to me is only at or below such talent, it's no wonder to me why I tend to be more critical than a lot of other people in this field.

You don't have to be a critic to be critical of music, but I have found there was definitely something that changed in the way I thought about music once I started making it for myself. Knowing some of the under-the-hood mechanics does make it harder to like as much of what I hear as I used to, but it also gives me a deeper appreciation for the people who can consistently create great music.

Take of this what you will. Maybe I'm still talking out of my ass most of the time. My perspective makes it hard to see.

Singles Roundup: Emerson Hart, Avatarium, Candlemass, & Nickelback

Emerson Hart - Everything's Broken

This one hurts a bit to write. I mentioned when Emerson released the first single from his upcoming EP that I've been less interested in each of his solo releases, as he and I seem to be diverging. This is the massive blow to the face that proves the point. I'm not sure I understand what to make of this song, which is almost entirely centered on a doomy riff and background vocals, which is unlike anything he's ever written. I get experimenting, but putting out a song that doesn't even sound like yourself is going to be a tough sell. I know it is for me, as this song is already fighting it out as perhaps my least favorite he's ever written. I'm at a loss.

Avatarium - Death, Where Is Your Sting?

I wasn't as fond of the first single Avatarium released for this record as I wanted to be, but this song turns things around. The band's doom roots are still there, but their affection for classic rock takes center stage, which is as it should be. They are at their best when they blend dark heaviness with a more traditional melodic sheen. It even has a bit of a folk feel to the melody when the chorus opens up, and we are once again greeted with the feeling of a midnight campfire. They are able to take the foreboding of doom, and give it a silver lining. That's the power of Avatarium at their best, and this is a fine example of it.

Candlemass - Scandanavian Gods

This makes for a nice juxtaposition, as Avatarium shares lineage with Candlemass, and the end results are wildly divergent at this point. I won't drive home the same point about them yet again, but this latest chapter of the band's history is making a strong case that they should have retired when they announced it. I know doom is repetitive, but I'm struggling to find more than a minute's worth of ideas in this song, and even those aren't good ones. The song drones on with the most boring chords, and no sort of hooky melody at all. Honestly, it sounds like doom being written by people who have done nothing but listen to doom all their lives, but had never tried writing a song before. Candlemass is supposed to be so much better than this.

Nickelbck - San Quentin

Nickelback have always been a bit meat-headed, and that's never more apparent than when they want to prove how much they actually rock. That's what this new song aims for, but I don't think it succeeds at all. First of all, Nickelback doesn't rock. They can be heavy, but it's the artificial kind where you can tell they're trying to jazz up a mediocre songs by turning the dials higher. The guitars sound fake, the gruff vocals sound fake, and the lyrics tell the story about being driven to commit acts of criminal destruction by rock and roll. I thought we did away with the psychological connection between songs and people being complete assholes long ago, but I suppose not. No one is going to be burning anything down because of the power of Nickelback, and it just sounds so ridiculous for these guys to be taking this approach. They were pretty good at writing pop songs with a hint of rock to them. They're not good at trying to rock so hard they put you in jail. Give me a fucking break.

Album Review: Michelle Branch - The Trouble With Fever

Sometimes, an album will teach you things about a subject you don't know all that much about. Other times, an album will leave you with more questions than anything, making you wonder if you have been in the dark all along. That's the way I feel after listening to Michelle Branch's newest record. It serves now a far different role, but it was written as an album of love songs to her husband. As Whitesnake once posed; Is this love?

I ask that, because I don't hear love in these songs. I don't even hear a sound that makes it sound like Branch is even warm to humanity, as a whole. The album is dripping in a hollow tone, dripping with an echo that feels cold, punctuated by synths that break through the noise like a crying child in the middle of the night. Ok, maybe it does take love to embrace that bit of life, but that's not the way it sounds listening to the album.

"All You Wanted", from her first album, is one of those songs that has hung around in my mind for twenty years. It make my list of my favorite songs ever, and I still pull out my guitar often and strum along to it. While I was never obsessed with "The Spirit Room" as an album (although I do need to go back and give it another chance - I think I was missing something back then), Michelle Branch has always been a nice memory of a specific time in music.

That's what makes this record so difficult to listen to. I know what she is capable of, because I've heard her pull it off so well, and these songs with this production seem to suck the life out of her. The booming aspect of her voice isn't used at all. Her sharp tone that made it sound like she was singing something that truly mattered to her feels absent as well. This record comes across rather dour, and without songs that invite you to listen back to them again. If this is love, it is fleeting, and it is insular. Whatever she is feeling in these songs, it doesn't resonate with me.

Maybe this is a lingering effect of getting involved with the indie-rock scene, where a lot of those people like doing weird things for the sake of being weird. Maybe these songs would sound better if the noise was cleaned up, and a bit more polish was put on the recordings. I don't think it would make much of a difference, but maybe it would be just enough.

As it stands, I'm left confused by Michelle Branch. Not only is this an album I didn't enjoy listening to, and not only is it an album that doesn't sound at all like what it's supposed to be, but it's also an album that leaves me questioning the very meaning and existence of love.

I guess that's something.

"Hollywood Town Hall" Still Stands Tall, Thirty Years On

I don't know if I believe in any sort of fate. Sometimes, it strikes me that it's merely a way for people to justify good luck, as if we need some more substantial reasoning for anything good that may happen. The idea that somehow events are fated to occur because the stars are in a certain position in the sky is the sort of thing that's so silly, if it hadn't been started millennia ago, we would laugh in the face of whoever tried to create it. So no, I'm not inclined to think that dates are actually meaningful, or that they hold some kind of code to the world.

"Hollywood Town Hall" came out on my birthday. I was too young to be searching out music at the time, and The Jayhawks would never be popular enough to stumble across in the conventional ways, so I was obviously not listening to the record at the time. I find it interesting that it came out on that particular day, but since many more records have also come out on that day throughout history, it is only a bit of trivia. Fun trivia, but trivia nonetheless.

I wouldn't discover The Jayhawks until years later, through that vestigial thing known as VH-1. There was a song that played for a short time there I fell in love with, and when I sought out more about the record it came from, I quickly discovered it was a one-off gem. I did run across an interesting cover on that album, though. That would be the song, "Blue". It was the first time I had heard the name The Jayhawks, and that weird line is the way I was reeled in by a record that would become a fixture of my listening, although I wouldn't know that at the time.

"Waiting In The Wings" at first sounded too much like "Mary Jane's Last Dance", which would have been funny to me if I did the math and realized at the time which song actually came first. Perhaps having that similarity was the door to which I could walk in and embrace what The Jayhawks were doing, since it was different than just about anything else I would be listening to at that point in time.

The Jayhawks sound has always been something unique; a blend of two very different voices that bring echoes of folk and power pop together, washed over with fuzz guitar solos. They are non-traditional, but in their own way a quintessentially Americana band. Coming from the heartland, they embrace all the elements of the various stripes of the music synonymous with that geography, but glossed with a layer of accessible melody that was a harbinger for the entire alt-country movement that would soon be a fad.

Mark Olson's voice takes on the role of the small-town preacher foretelling doom if the simple way of life is left behind, while Gary Louris is the calm voice of reason who reminds us change is inevitable. There is a dynamic of friction between Olson's old-time folk, and Louris' modern noise. The push and pull between them is why the band would fracture, come together, then fall apart again several times over the years. But when they did find their way together, the competition between them brought out the best in the music.

As time would advance, the relationship between the two became easier to hear in the music. Olson grounded the music with an organic sense of storytelling, and Louris wanted to expand the band's sound and bring in all manner of experimental sounds. It would take its toll on the music later on, but at the point "Hollywood Town Hall" was made, neither was pulling hard enough to nudge the band off-center.

The organ swirling in the background of "Crowded In The Wings" indeed gives the song the feeling of an old time religious revival, with the sticky melody no different than the faith healer's silver tongue convincing people they were hearing the literal voice of God. The Jayhawks wouldn't work in the same way without Olson and Louris sharing the majority of the vocals as a tandem. It's the way their voices blend, giving us two different emotional resonances at the same time, that makes the music stand out. While I love "Rainy Day Music" dearly as well, there's an earnestness only Olson could bring to the table. Louris' voice by itself can't raise the music to the same heights as his fuzzy solos. One brings the power, the other the nuance. It truly takes a village, in other words.

"Hollywood Town Hall" is a simple album wistful for simpler times, painting a portrait for us of a reality that never was. It looks back with rose-colored glasses, taking the same building blocks The Eagles would use, but arranging them in a way that didn't sound like a group of jaded old cranks who want to bust teenagers in the knees with their canes. The Jayhawks were telling us what they felt we were missing from the old days, while keeping one foot in the present day.

It's remarkable how timeless the album sound, as if it exists outside of any trend, style, or fad. As I listen to it now, the record sounds too old to be modern, but too new to be classic. These songs are a bridge between two times, which is fitting, because the early 90s were a period of great transition. One era was ending, another was beginning, and somehow The Jayhawks were there to note that with their music.

We could call that fate, if we wanted to. An album that neatly tied up the threads of change, released on a day of personal importance to me. That sounds like more than luck, doesn't it?

It isn't, but it is one of the best bits of fortune I have stumbled across. There was nothing like "Hollywood Town Hall" when it came out, and thirty years later, there still isn't much that can compare. The Jayhawks would ebb and flow even since, but there was something magical in the air when they made this record. "Hollywood Town Hall" is one of those albums that stands the test of time by not adhering to it. What is timeless can never get old, and since I love this record more now than when I first heard it what must be twenty years ago by now, there is no danger of that changing in the future.

Album Review: House Of Lords - Saints And Sinners

Music is a fickle thing, and few bands have embodied that more than House Of Lords. Their album "Indestructible" is one of my favorite melodic rock albums ever, and yet I find every album that has come since then to be rather forgettable. This hearkens back to when people say, "if you like ____, you'll like ____". It isn't that simple, since even within one band's discography, albums that all sound the same don't have the same impact. House Of Lords hasn't changed anything about what they do, but they only tapped into a well of songwriting I can also drink from for that one brief window of time.

This album continues that trend, as it often feels like the band doesn't quite have a handle on their own sound. We get songs like the title track, which are lighter fare, but amplify their ability to write anthemic choruses with angelic backing vocals. That sort of song, or "House Of The Lord", are really good compositions that do the job well. If the band stuck to doing that, they would probably be able to put together another album that worked as well as "Indestructible" did.

Unfortunately, the band is still focused on proving how hard they can rock. Those songs, like "Road Warrior" and "Roll Like Thunder", don't have the hooks necessary for this kind of melodic rock. They are too stock, too flat, and saddled with a production that puts the guitars so far back they don't have any power either. If they are trying to rock hard, we can't hear it, because the album sounds soft even at its heaviest. That explains why it's their more AOR songs that work better, but it doesn't explain why they picked guitar tones and a mix that work against almost half of the album's success.

Now, with that being said, is this album really that different from the one I love? Honestly, not really. They're using the same sounds and the same conceits, so you would think the results would be more closely aligned. But this is why I was talking about fickleness, as this album is quite far apart in terms of quality. There's something about the way the melodies are written now that don't hook me as much, that don't get my fist pumping as I'm tempted to sing along. Without that connection, the music is just sort of there.

Once again, House Of Lords has delivered an album that sounds the part, but doesn't stick the landing. There are hints of their greatness, but they can't keep it up for an entire record. When people use the phrase 'a shadow of themselves', I think an album like this is a good illustration of what they mean. It sounds like them from a distance, and it is them, but all the detail has been obscured. Those are what make things interesting, and this album falls short.

Album Review: Bloodbath - Survival Of The Sickest

As I have mentioned many times over the years, death metal and I don't have the best relationship. Though I have tried many times to get into it, the severe lack of melody and hook factor have made it nearly impossible for me to become a fan. Making things even worse is that some of my first exposure to death metal was through some of the original members of Bloodbath, also including the band's first album, which just so happened to be about as good as I think the genre can be done. So when I started out at the top, everything that came after has been a disappointment.

Bloodbath has become more stable since Nick Holmes joined, but this era of the band is perhaps the least interesting one yet. The truly horrendous guitar tone of the first record was so ridiculous it was amazing, and Mikael Akerfeldt and company delivered some truly hook-laden songs. "Like Fire" is one of the catchiest death metal songs I've ever heard, and it may have single-handedly ruined the entire genre for me. After his hiatus from the band, they have focused on being more of a true death metal band, where the camp factor has been stripped away. That was not for the best, if you ask me.

When the band took all the fun out of the music, all that's left is the crusty exterior. Like a loaf of bread, that might look the part from a distance, but it's hollow and unsatisfying. Let's look at the opening track here, "Zombie Inferno". The band rips through some flashy guitar licks to open the song, and Holmes sounds fine growling his way through the verses, but the 'chorus' to the song is just him screaming the title a couple of times. It doesn't have any melody to it, and even the rhythm of it is boring.

The vocals might as well not even be there, since they add nothing to the composition. I like guitars too, but a bunch of riffs is not a satisfying song. The haphazard way they get put together needs something over the top to tie them all into a coherent song, and that's where the band struggles most. It doesn't really make much sense, since I know at least the members of Bloodbath who are also in Katatonia know damn well how to write a song. Why they don't carry that over to this project is a mystery.

Or maybe it isn't. Since Katatonia is a very emotionally heavy project, and their records often take considerable time and energy to complete, Bloodbath is the fun side-project where they bang things out quickly and don't overthink what they're doing. If that's the case, they it makes sense why these songs aren't the most captivating compositions. They guys want to make some noise, and get away from their main gigs. Investing what it would take to make this record what it could be would be anathema to the whole point of it.

Personally, I miss the days when it sounded like the band was having a blast paying homage to their influences. They went from celebrating the old guard to being the old guard, and having to live up to that has sucked a lot of the life out of this. Life... death metal... yeah, that was unintentional.

Anyway, the point I'm making is that I'm the wrong person to judge whether this is good death metal for people who are into death metal. I can only say what I think of it as someone not predisposed to liking this style. That predisposition has not been changed.

20 Years of "Songs For The Deaf" - A Conversation

D.M: ...and so we find ourselves with another year and another anniversary.  This one strikes as more recent than our usual fare, which is usually viewed through the lens of decades of perspective.  Not only that, but I think this marks the first time when you and I have decided to analyze, celebrate and debate and album that was released at the point when we were already adults; legally anyway, if perhaps we were not fully formed and functioning members of a working society.  

We are talking about Queens of the Stone Age, and the 20th (could it be possible?) anniversary of their principle and foremost album, "Songs for the Deaf."

Given some other options, we agreed to take this one on I think because we were on the same page that there's a lot to dissect here - few albums in our lifetimes, let alone our formative years, are so complicated in terms of their fit into the era of their birth.  

"Songs for the Deaf" existed at that most unlikely, and increasingly rare crossroads, of college radio darling and mass-media success.  The album was impossible to avoid, growing from the shadow of the not so long forgotten Kyuss and given credence by virtue of the folks who deigned to appear on it, or otherwise were associated with it.  The album's legacy however, seems equally judged by not only its own merit, but the company it kept, and the influence it imparted in its wake.

Desert rock was really the last bastion of alternative rock in the traditional sense to find a foothold in the popular ear (parenthetical: 'alternative rock in the traditional sense' should functionally be a paradox, but we'll ignore that since that's not what we're here to argue about,) and "Songs for the Deaf" not only was the best example of the genre, but served as the last mosh-ready option in a genre that had largely given over to post-grunge and ultimately to emo.  

And so we're faced with the historical conundrum of a record that in retrospect seems an anachronism even in its own time, and yet might be the most influential album of the bunch.  At the risk of speaking out of turn, I think there's a clear shift in the thinking of the Foo Fighters after "Songs for the Deaf" - there's a change between "One by One" and "In Your Honor," that resonates all the way out through "Wasting Light," where it's impossible to hear the much-ballyhooed single "White Limo," and NOT hear "A Song For The Dead."  Even more obvious, does Them Crooked Vultures" even happen without "Songs for the Deaf?"

That's probably about enough by way of an intro.  Before we get too far into the details, I'll let you launch some initial thoughts on why we're here.

CHRIS C: I want to start with a potentially unrelated question. How many albums after "Songs For The Deaf" are important, classic records? There is a degree to which time is necessary to make such a judgment, but we also have a feeling before the dust settles whether it's going to blow back in our faces or not. It seems to me that over the last twenty years, whether it's an actual decline in quality, a saturation of avenues having been explored, or boomer generations that stopped caring long ago, very few records have the kind of acclaim and impact to be certified classics. Post "Songs For The Deaf", a case within genres can be made for "American Idiot" or "The Black Parade", but very few other records manage to sell, to inspire, and to provide something as essential as an enduring guitar riff.

Let me start there. "No One Knows" has become one of 'those' guitar riffs. You know the ones; they pop up on lists of the best riffs ever, and you hear them played in guitar stores by people who are picking up instruments looking for the one that will inspire them. That sort of thing seemed to die out after the guitar hero movement of the 80s. I've been running things through my head, and I can't really come up with many universally beloved riffs that have come out after this one. The only other one that compares is "Seven Nation Army".

The other big thing about this album, to me, is the movement it started. No, not a boon of desert rock. No, not the concept album returning to popular parlance (although we can talk about whether the concept adds anything to the experience - I don't think it does). What I'm talking about is the start of the 'hired gun superstar' era. Dave Grohl joining the band for this record, with his pedigree and fame, is the direct forerunner to Travis Barker appearing on every pop-punk album released today, among other things. Can you imagine if John Bonham had decided to use his off-time from Zeppelin's touring schedule to go drum for some underground band? That's what happened here, and the way Grohl elevated the band's stature (I firmly believe he is the one most responsible for QOTSA's rise) gave others the idea that they too could enhance their legacy by lifting other bands up.

I find your assessment of the Foo Fighters to be rather interesting, because I don't hear that at all. You're absolutely right about "White Limo", although I could also say that was Grohl paying tribute to Lemmy and Motorhead. Either explanation would illustrate why it's one of my least favorite Foo Fighters song. But if we're talking about desert rock, and QOTSA, I hear far more similarity between the two bands from the "One By One" album. It has the same dirty, jamming heart, and lack of concern for radio domination. To a degree, I think the two albums were almost a double record, with each band putting one half out. Then again, I'm also one of the few who thinks "One By One" is my favorite Foo Fighters album, so its twentieth anniversary also being this year is worth noting as well.

D.M: Ooooooooo, that's an excellent question, and a really delicious, subjective exercise that musical fanatics will assuredly and self-righteously rake us over the coals for.  Let's dive in!  You already started with "American Idiot" which I disagree with only because it is such an album of its time (....or is it?) and so its impact is more in remembrance than in enduring legacy.  That's an important metric here, and speaks to one of the greater and underrepresented qualities of "Songs for the Deaf," which is timelessness.  Queens of the Stone Age's record sounds every bit and vital and virile as it did then, at least as far as its idiom is concerned.  Some of this, at least as far as you and I are concerned, is a product of the time it was produced.  Digital recording and preservation is, to speak in clumsy metaphor, the plastic surgery of our musical era - stuff never sounds 'old' anymore.  Whereas you and I came of age in the '90s, when an album that was twenty years old sounded old.  Not bad, just old.

"Songs for the Deaf" is more than just a product of digital production, though - there's a certain snap to record that makes it instantly recognizable and consuming of attention.  But I'm getting off on a tangent.  Let me get back to that after I finish my original thought.

I'll grant "The Black Parade."  Sure.  As I scoured about, I thought for certain there was some bloated, self-important Radiohead album that would qualify, but somewhat to my shock, all of their 'classic' albums came before 2002.  (My opinion of Radiohead is no doubt showing, but I will grant them some measure of respect for being a band who never really caught on in a mainstream way, but always seemed to be able to sell out an NBA arena on two days' notice.)  So in answer to your query about albums in rock/metal/alternative that can hold a candle to "Songs for the Deaf," I am left with just three suggestions.  First off and most important, "Chinese Democracy."  Okay, I can't keep a straight face after typing that.  Moving on.  Avenged Sevenfold's "City of Evil," which probably has the most tenuous claim and I'm willing to leave behind.  The other two are more difficult.  Recency bias might play in here, but perhaps Ghost's "Meliora"?  Ghost has become something of a mainstream darling, and that was the album that catapulted them from 1,500 general admission headliner to 15,000 seat headliner (I know, because I watched it happen.)

The other....and I don't even want to bring it up, because it's awful, and because somehow I've taken on the role between the two of us of saying "you know, they suck, but don't forget about..." and that's Nickelback's "All the Right Reasons."  Gross.  I feel gross now.  I don't even want to talk about it.

...sigh....

Back to the point I was making, and it meshes with something you hinted at, particularly as it relates to "No One Knows."  Confession time - I know the first line of actual lyrics in that song.  I know nothing that comes after, because I've never felt like I had to.  The hook is so good, and the simple two-beat so effective, that it's easy to get lost just in the musical journey.  Homme's voice is more an instrument of harmony than it is a purveyor of meaning, and it's even more rare in that or any era when a voice so fits the pocket of the song.  This is part of the snap I was referring to above.  "No One Knows" is hardly the only example of this on the album, but it's the most prominent, and it's what makes this record so unique. And then, when you get into the chorus, and that fuzzy, desert-burned rhythm guitar strikes, drowning out Homme entirely, it lends an importance and a depth to a song that until that point feels flighty and weightless.  

There are few bands in my catalogue that are solely recognizable based on their guitar tone, and fewer still are the albums that can be identified by that same virtue.  Any Rage Against the Machine record.  "Ride the Lightning."  Boston's iconic first album.  "Master of Reality."  Not many others.  Virtually none in the new millennium, saving two: Wolfmother's first record, and "Songs for the Deaf."

There's more I want to get to, but I want to stop for now with this question to you in turn - is there a greater kingmaker than Dave Grohl?  And why is he the pinnacle of the form?

CHRIS C: I get what you're saying about "American Idiot", but I'm going to have to insist it's an enduring classic. It was massive at the time, we can argue that without it "The Black Parade" and every other mainstream concept album afterward may not have happened, but it's undeniable that the album has staying power. The singles were huge when they came out, and I continue to hear them on rock radio (on the times when I have no choice but to listen to it). I don't hear Radiohead, and the only My Chemical Romance song I hear isn't from their masterpiece, but Green Day is still all over the airwaves, even though they've sucked ever since.

You mentioned Nickelback, but none of their albums can be classics, since you can't find anyone who actually likes them. This stature is a mix of being popular and being loved. "Chinese Democracy" would fall under the same rule. I like it more than a lot of people, but I even as a thought experiment I can't make a case for it being a classic. "Meliora" is an interesting choice, and I'm giving it some thought, because it's dawning on me that success these days is far different than the timeframe I was originally thinking about. Ghost doesn't have crossover, top-40 hits, but they are hugely successful on the rock charts. You might have hit on one there, but I'm still going to say it's a lesser classic, if we say it qualifies.

I'll match your confession; I didn't know much of the lyrics to "No One Knows" either. I looked them up, and I've got to say, I'm not impressed. Rock lyrics are more often than not terrible, and there's part of me that is rather depressed by how little interesting poetry these people come up with. I know not everyone is going to write the way I do, but that old line James Hetfield had about writing as if he was a Mack truck doesn't strike me as always being a good thing.

With the snap and pocket you're talking about, is "Songs For The Deaf" the most prominent mainstreaming of groove in modern rock? Much of QOTSA's music is built on those hypnotic grooves, and it's quite different from the usual riff-iness rock music is associated with. It strikes me as almost being as if you took nu-metal, left it out in the sun until everything black faded to nearly white, and then listened to the brittle remains. And yes, I realize that is far more esoteric and poetic an image than we get from rock lyrics. That's sort of my point.

Do we want to have the guitar tone discussion? There's a couple of reasons why we haven't had any unique and identifiable tones in recent years. One is that a lot of these bands are lazy, and they are happy to copy the sounds they were inspired by. Another is that they all use the same gear, so any differentiation is going to be limited anyway. The last, and maybe the most important, is the prevalence of re-amping in the production process. If you've ever listened to an Andy Sneap production and thought they all sound the same, there's a reason for it. A large number of the records he makes are literally run through the exact same amp, because that's the sound they asked for. People are no longer finding old and sketchy amps that all had their own quirks. Everyone now has access to digital copies all based on one particular amp, so they're all painting with the same palate of colors.

Grohl might be the best kingmaker, and it's because of two things; his talent and his affability. He wouldn't have the power he does if he wasn't a remarkable drummer and songwriter, but he also wouldn't have the power he does if he wasn't a likeable guy. If Axl Rose joined three other bands, they wouldn't succeed, because no one is rooting for him. Grohl is one of the few guys who not only seems to truly love what he does, but who also seems to genuinely want everyone else to succeed as he has. Does anyone get that vibe from Jimmy Page?

D.M: A final thought to tie up the Dave Grohl point - I saw him perform live, only once.  It was with Them Crooked Vultures, at the now-defunct Roseland Ballroom in Manhattan, roughly across the street from the Ed Sullivan Theater.  I have seen many drummers in my days.  And I dare say, I have seen many more purely talented drummers than Dave.  But I have never, NEVER seen a drummer who hits his kit as hard, or plays with more enthusiasm and joy, than Dave Grohl.

Sure, let's have a guitar tone discussion!  Here's the fundamental question for me when it comes to guitar tone in the post "Songs for the Deaf" era: if you create fuzz and warmth through purely digital post-production means, and no one walking by could tell the difference, have you created authentic fuzz and warmth?  I think this is the same argument that people are making to argue the semantics of plant-based, or even cloned, meat.  What is the soul of a thing?  Is intent in music enough to overcome the trickery of production?

Much less esoterically, and this actually ties just a little into the Soundgarden/Nirvana debate we had earlier this year - Did the '90s represent the end of the Age of Guitarists?  Is that what made Homme or Stockdale or White so much more interesting, that they'd become an anachronism of a time gone by?  Parenthetically, even as accomplished as they are, I don't know that they measure beyond the legacy of the likes of Thayill or contemporaries from other genres like Hammett or Friedman or Cantrell or dare I even mention Van Halen?

But anyway, I wanted to unload another smattering of thoughts that pertain to the album we're talking about.  And you mentioned it without knowing I was going this way - that "Songs for the Deaf" may be one of the best examples of groove in mainstream modern rock.  There's a lot that goes into this conversation, not the least of which is the concept that makes metal fans' eyes cross: that for all the metal riffs and groove that I love, some (not all,) of the single grooviest riffs I know are born from rock and not metal.  "No One Knows" is certainly among them.  "Joker and the Thief" is in there, too.  More on that in a minute.  First: a brief aside about "No One Knows."

A lot of very kind words, including by me, were scribed when news of Mark Lanegan's passing came across the wire.  I invoke him here as the co-writer of "No One Knows," and a necessary staple of "Songs for the Deaf," mostly to say this: Mark Lanegan was a truly underrated songwriter for his entire career.  Not just his principal works with the Screaming Trees, or his mainstream success with Queens of the Stone Age, but his insightful and soulful solo career as well.  There's not much more to add than that as far as Lanegan himself is concerned, but it needed to be said.

It does draw to a larger point, though - that Queens of the Stone Age, and this album by extension, was both an important reminder of the grunge era, nearly ten years gone at time of release, and a critical bridge between that era and the next generation of rock to come.  Queens of the Stone Age, along with two bands we've mentioned already, Wolfmother and The White Stripes, were the vanguard for a rock revival, however brief, and reverberates today.  

To that end, I've always felt that "Songs for the Deaf" knew what it was: maybe the last of the great rock albums.  You can hear it on the album in an obscure way, told through the vignettes of the radio stations that one would experience driving through the California desert.  The stations get smaller and smaller in scope, sounding more frazzled and less well produced, exemplifying that perhaps Queens of the Stone Age knew they might be the last vanguard, struggling to keep purchase as creative, unique rock and alternative would be driven from the radio entirely, in favor of more soulless, corporately-produced music.

CHRIS C: Now we're venturing into the question of analog versus digital, and I don't know if I want to fully go down that rabbit hole again. What I will say is that I don't believe an amp, or a piece of vinyl, somehow has a soul. They're all just manifestations of sound with their own advantages and disadvantages. Let's start by remembering that early guitar distortion was just that; distortion of the intended sound. Those amps were never designed to sound the way The Kinks made them, so in a sense all we've been doing for the last sixty years is finding what version of noise sounds more pleasing to our ears than others. Somewhere along the line, we convinced ourselves music is supposed to only sound like it did in the 70s, even though it never did before, and never would again. So no, I don't really care whether the sound is organic or processed, only that it has an identity to it that makes a band a bit unique. Then again, QOTSA sound like many other desert/stoner bands, so being first to the mainstream with a certain sound definitely goes a long way to establishing yourself.

After all, no one criticizes a painter who uses the same color palate as everyone else. It's what you do with it that really matters.

Hmm... most people draw the line at the late 80s as the end of the road for guitarists. That's funny, since you can find dozens of players on YouTube who can play circles around the 'guitar heroes' of that time. I don't think the decline of rock music had much to do with the guitarists themselves, at least not in the sense I think you're going for. What I think happened was around the time we're talking about, John Petrucci's instructional videos came out, among other things. We saw guitar playing become more of a sport of technique, where the most gifted players fell into the trap of wanting to prove everything they could do. They either put out instrumental music, or they joined technical prog bands. We didn't have the greatest musicians writing and playing on songs that would become popular, so the entire genre started to wane in the public eye when it was populated largely by the second tier (Hello, Puddle Of Mudd!). So it isn't that it was the end of guitar players, but you have to look somewhere else to find them.

Oh god yes, metal is largely grooveless. Even in 'groove metal', it's often only in the basest of forms. Groove, like rock music itself, has roots in the blues. So since metal is rock with the blues stripped out of it, of course it feels too stiff and rigid to properly groove. There's a massive difference between headbanging to the rigid time of the drums, and swaying to the flow of a wandering bass. Metal often gets too far up its own ass to be any fun.

Lanegan was vital to "Songs For The Deaf", although I'm going to have to be the party pooper and say none of his solo work I ever tried to listen to caught my attention at all. I think he had run out of steam by the time he left QOTSA. But they would not have been who they were without him. Their earlier stuff is fine, but didn't set the world on fire. Their later stuff is also fine, but never really crossed over again. I think the key to all of this wasn't just Grohl's name value, but Lanegan throwing just enough of the Screaming Trees type melody into this record. Without him, I don't think Homme would have been able to write enough singles to keep the momentum rolling as it did.

I hear the album a bit differently. I take the radio vignettes as the band creating their own little world wherein they were rock stars. That makes "Songs For The Deaf" their last gasp effort to bring this more authentic style of rock to the masses, where they would fade back into the desert to amuse themselves if it didn't work. But like a self-fulfilling prophecy, the story came true, and they found themselves where they dreamed to be. It was almost a dare to the mainstream; the band saying they knew they had the songs, and all the stations needed was the courage to play them.

D.M: I think there's only one question remaining that we haven't touched on yet, and I'll give a brief take and then let you have the last word to take us home.

With Queens of the Stone Age as its figurehead, what's the ultimate legacy of desert rock?  

My best estimate is that the enduring impact of the genre is middling, in the literal sense.  Certainly, it comes nowhere near the revolutionary nature of the British Invasion, or the emergence of American punk, and indeed barely deserves to be mentioned in the same sentence.  But I also don't think that desert rock is akin to grunge; burning brightly but quickly, with little residue left behind save in some of the drop-tuned corners of alt rock and metal.  Ultimately, and I say this as a general defender of grunge, the failing of grunge is that it is only, as this moment, a memory of those who lived it.  

But I think desert rock possesses more staying power.  It is hampered by the fact that rock as a genre is less popular now than during its halcyon days, but nevertheless, the spirit of the movement can be heard living on in a number of popular bands that we mentioned earlier, up to and including the Foo Fighters.  

Moreover, the dry (for lack of a better term,) cracked-dirt guitar tone that the genre birthed can be heard in any number of facets, ranging from the emerging and popular like BRKN Love to the truly niche Mollo Rilla.  Desert rock created an influential sound that more than outpaced the lifespan of the genre itself.

And at the center of it all, "Songs for the Deaf," an album which endures beyond its years and will be cited as an influence for decades to come.

CHRIS C: I think the desert rock legacy is as arid as the landscape that birthed it. You mention grunge, and while the true era was indeed short and bright, we're still dealing with the legacy of it. If anything, the 'post-grunge' era was every bit as big as the original, and it certainly has lasted longer. With Creed and Nickelback as the biggest names to come from it, that particular modern rock sound has never fallen out of favor. It's why we gripe so much about what is popular on the rock charts these days. In twenty-five years, we haven't changed the sound all that much.

Desert rock never permeated that same way, but I think that's actually for the best. While grunge still hangs in the background of so much of what we listen to, the decades of hangers-on have lowered grunge's esteem. It's often derided by people who were not there at the time, and I get why they do. Desert rock is almost entirely represented in the public consciousness by "Songs For The Deaf". The legacy of the entire genre rests on one of its best examples. Imagine if grunge was only known for "Nevermind", "Facelift", and "Superunknown". We would think very differently about it, I imagine.

Ultimately, "Songs For The Deaf" stood apart at the time, and that has allowed it to stand alone today. Being peerless has its benefits, and that is what we have essentially been talking about this whole time.

Album Review: Allen/Olzon - Army Of Dreamers

You would think an artist making the exact change you suggested (not that I think they ever heard what I said - it was coincidence, I'm sure) would make you ecstatic, and be a guarantee of success. You would, but that's not quite how things work out. The first collaborative album from Russell Allen and Anette Olzon clocked in at #2 on my year-end list (although in hindsight it should have bene #3), and I only had one real nit to pick about it. For as great a melodic metal album as it was, I disliked the composition of the album as one-third Russell songs, one-third Anette songs, and one-third duets. The bits where they sung together were magical, and I couldn't understand why it wasn't put front and center all over the album.

That has been fixed for album number two. This record sees the two powerhouses sharing vocal duties throughout the record, finally sounding like a true duets album. It's such a simple choice to make, I'm left rather confused how the previous record was constructed the way it was.

When dealing with a Magnus Karlsson album, the results often rely on the singers. Regardless of the project he is writing for, the building blocks are always the same. He is a highly ocnsistent writer, but that sense of sameness works as a detriment as well. We know where the songs are going, and the melodies carry his trademark feeling. What separates one album from the next is the voice, and how well they are able to sell the hooks.

That is where this record shines, because Russell and Anette are two of the best at doing that. Their powerful voices, and the way they blend together, is something far more special than hearing Ronnie Romero trying to rasp his way through an ill-fitting melody, or an album where every song shifts tone with a new singer. This project has a unique sound to it, and like the original Allen/Lande albums that sparked this entire sub-sub-genre, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

As an album, this one is a different case than the debut. We are entertaining the question of highlights versus consistency. "Worlds Apart" had a handful of tracks that stand above anything on this record, specifically "What If I Live" and "Cold Inside". They were such gems it propelled the album near the top of my year-end list, even if the record itself was a big up-and-down. This record, by contrast, is a straight line of high quality. With Russell and Anette singing together in every song, the highs and lows are smoothed over, so we have to ask ourselves; is it better to have a handful of remarkable songs, or a whole album of nearly great ones?

That question has two different answers, depending on how we want to look at things. I think "Worlds Apart" will be more memorable, overall, because I can't get those few songs out of my head, even now. I still go back and listen to the highlights regularly, even if I seldom play the album in full. "Army Of Dreamers" is going to be the opposite, where I doubt I will repeatedly go back to the highlights, but I'm more likely to put on the whole album. It's a similar case to Anette's other band, The Dark Element, except in that instance, both ways of looking at things point me to the debut.

That's a long-winded way of saying "Army Of Dreamers" is an album that takes what was great about "Worlds Apart", and simply gives us more of it. Do I have some nits to pick with it? Sure I do, but they aren't important. I love melodic metal when it's done well, and this is done exceptionally well. It's the best album of this kind.... probably since the last one.

Kat Kennedy Is Anything But "Boring"

The best feeling you can get from a musician's oeuvre is indescribable. It's a feeling of knowing, where as soon as you hear a few notes, you not only know exactly who it is that's singing to you, but you feel like you know something about them. It might come from artistic honesty, but it doesn't always. What it truly embodies is the realization of an artistic identity they embrace and exploit. They know who they are, what they're supposed to sound like, and how to write to maximize that sound for all it's worth.

Kat Kennedy has found that sound. Her recent string of singles, "Party", "Unpacking", and "Bittersweet", have perfected her approach. As I described it before, Kat is following in the trend of 'Daria rock', taking a sound similar to Taylor Swift's "Folklore" album, but removing all of the natural cheer Taylor can't help but have in her voice. Kat's music is sadder, more 'numb', and nailing how so many people have been feeling for so long.

In the case of this new song, it comes in the form of the celebratory realization that she is now 'boring'. She is trading the exciting life of chasing the wrong people for the wrong reasons, and instead settling in to how good it can be to have nothing to do but be together with nothing to do. It might be 'boring', but that boredom is where deeper feelings are able to come out. How do you know if you actually like someone if you're constantly doing exciting things that get your adrenaline pumping? Anyone could look good when you've been wondering if your parachute is going to open. Someone looking good when you've been staring at them staring at a screen for six hours is a completely different ask.

So what exactly does a numb anthem sound like? Kat is showing us, as the music swells to the most powerful hit an apathetic musician can apply. The music is still subdued and slightly monochrome, but the energy getting the magnetic filings to move into a beautiful pattern is enough to get our toes tapping. Head-banging hurts after a few minutes, but this is something we can do all night long.

The advantage to being boring is that anything you do of any note will suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world. When a boring person manages to get the lid off a jar without needing one of those doohickeys from Bed Bath & Beyond, it's exciting. When a boring person solves the final Wheel Of Fortune puzzle before the contestant, it's exciting. When a song comes along and makes us feel better about not wanting to be exciting, paradoxically, it's exciting.

I am a boring person, and having a song that celebrates the beauty of being boring is exciting. They say life is in the simple pleasures, and that's what Kat's new song is. It's a simple pleasure that reminds us we don't always need to be searching for the next mountain to climb. Sometimes, remembering to breath is all the success we need. Now we have a soundtrack for that.

Oh, and Kat is definitely not boring. If you need the proof, just listen to her song prove that point.