Single Review: The Beatles - Now And Then

The saying 'never say never' is a contradiction, but it's one of those things that rings true, no matter how cliche it might sound. There is always a chance of something unexpected happening, no matter how remote the odds might be from a mathematical perspective. To wit, I can't say I ever expected to be sitting down to discuss a new Beatles song. Since the band broke up more than fifty years ago, and half of the band is no longer with us, it seemed like the book was closed on their career. But much like a Hollywood reboot, there seems to be no way to stop popular names from still coming back again and again.

For this song, an old John Lennon demo was resurrected through the new AI technologies available. Able to separate his voice from the piano track, Paul and Ringo could then build a fresh recording around John to flesh things out. They had tried years ago, but only now can it be done. As the characters ask in every horror movie about a mad scientist, the better question isn't can it be done, but rather should it?

This song is not monstrous, but it does raise a number of ethical questions. It's a perfectly pleasant, somber John song, and if it had come about any other way, I don't think I would even give it a passing mention here. It will never stand up to the 'classics', since we know that to be psychologically impossible, but it's a nice curiosity. However, this song serves as a focal point for the dilemmas we are going to be facing in music for the foreseeable future.

First; Is it right to finish and release a song without the writer's consent?

Second; Is artificially enhanced music still the artist's music?

Third; Is it all going to sound this bad?

Let's take those in order.

First, we have to ask whether this song should exist at all. John is not here to speak for himself, and it's difficult to know whether he would have wanted the others to finish and release the song. They know better than we do his wishes, and Yoko would know even better than them, but still, releasing music an artist did not finish writing is a touchy subject. This is not the song as it would have been released by The Beatles, should they have all lived long enough to finish it. This is Paul and Ringo's interpretation, and those views could be incredibly different from what John would have turned the song into. The band famously hated what Phil Spector did to "Let It Be", so it isn't out of the question that John's opinion of this recording could be just as unpleasant. There are usually reasons why songs don't get finished, and perhaps this one was supposed to be forgotten.

Second, we have to ask if artificially modified music even counts as belonging to the artist in question. I don't think that applies much here, as they were primarily using the technology to isolate the vocal track, but that vocal is not actually what was recorded by John. It is a digital replication of what it would have sounded like, had the piano not bled over the actual track. We are hearing bits of John's voice, but it's filled out with digital sound created by an algorithm. So is it actually John's voice? We will be wrestling with that question many more times, I assume, and I don't have a good answer on where we draw the line. As the technology gets better, and fully modeled recordings sound indistinguishable from those based on analog voices, I fear the percentage of human contribution is going to dwindle until it's nothing.

Third, let's face the elephant in the room; this song doesn't actually sound very good. I don't mean to say the song isn't good, because as I said at the start, it's perfectly pleasant. No, what I'm saying is this hybrid of real and artificial recordings actually sounds terrible. Despite this being released decades after the band broke up, the sound quality is worse than any of their actual records. Perhaps they felt going for high fidelity in the instruments they re-recorded wouldn't have meshed with the old John vocal track, but that's just another reason the song should have been left alone. This is the worst sounding Beatles recording I think I've ever heard officially released, and that's a shame. If this is the band's last every statement, it deserved to be treated better.

Of course, I'm one of those people who thinks sometimes we should just let things go. There's nothing wrong with art of the past staying in the past. Not every scrap of an idea needs to be promoted until the end of time, and I think this song just goes to prove that. My life isn't worse for having heard "Now And Then", but I don't think it's better either. It was a lot of sound and fury, ultimately signifying nothing.

Album Review: D'Virgilio, Morse, & Jennings - Sophomore

Have you ever had a record that should have been right up your alley, but for whatever reason you found yourself rather detached from it? That happened to me with the first record from these three prog luminaries. As a song-based, mainly acoustic record filled with harmonies, it should have been perfect for me. I did like it when I was listening to it... and then I stopped listening to it. Something about the music was too breezy, or the harmonies were too soft, or I'm not sure what exactly, but I found myself leaving it in the past and moving on to other things. I've barely thought of that record since I finished writing my review of it, so I suppose I was surprised to see a new one in my inbox, since I completely lost track of time.

In the time since, I have only grown further removed from the prog world these guys come from, and nothing any of them have done with their other projects has spoken to me either. The direction I have been moving as a listener is quite far removed from what they have been doing, so I wasn't sure what to expect from another go 'round with this trio.

The record kicks off with a trademark Neal Morse acoustic guitar riff, and we quickly settle into the group doing what they do best; pop/prog with lovely harmonies and melodies that make you bop your head. When I think about what I want to hear, and what I imagine these three doing together, "Hard To Be Easy" is a perfect illustration of it. There's just enough playing in there to remind you where they're coming from, but it's a perfect song for a warm and sunny day.

That feeling doesn't quite carry through the record, and in part it's because these songs come from three different minds, and thus come across quite different if you don't fully buy-in to all of them. For me, I've never for a second been a fan of Haken, so when Jennings' song "Tiny Little Fires" comes on, it takes me out of the experience. The introductory motif sounds like a cross between a nursery rhyme and Christmas music, and his lead vocal doesn't have nearly as much charm to my ears as Neal Morse does. The bridge to the song is better, but by that point I've already had enough. This is a good illustration of why variety can be both a blessing and a curse.

One of the more fun aspects of the album is to try to figure out where some of Neal's lyrics come from. There are plenty of times where you feel smart for being able to spot the cliche before he says it, where predictive singing to yourself is like creating deja vu. But then there are times where he starts singing a line about going to the hospital after dancing with a friend, and I'm caught completely dumbfounded. I understand the concept of confessional songwriting, but narrating random events from your life is an odd choice to make. It's such an unrelatable little detail, I find it pushes the song further away from the listener. But that's just me.

I'm also rather baffled that, like on the last record, by the middle of the record they're playing some very old sounding bluesy rock. The whole point of this group was that they don't rock, so I'm not sure why they leave behind their aesthetic for a song like "Mama", which not only doesn't sound like anything else on the record, but sounds so out of this time period. If you're going to ask, no, the song isn't so good it quiets those questions.

By the end of this record, what I'm thinking is that these records sound like a clearing house for songs that don't fit these guys' main bands. They must realize Neal's 'songwriter' albums don't sell as well, and I'm not sure how many people even realize Nick has made any, so this group is a way of multiplying their chances of people hearing these songs. I know I'm a cynic, but that's just the way this record makes me feel. It doesn't sound like a batch of songs written with a clear intent and sound.

And that's what I find so disappointing. When they do the sunny day acoustic pop songs, I'm happy. It's essentially a softer version of Neal's pop material, but with extra harmonies. That stuff works, while the more 'experimental' stuff rarely hits the mark. A three-headed monster has trouble walking a straight line, because all three are looking at the same path from a different angle. That happens with this record, and I find it a messy hodgepodge of ideas that doesn't endear long enough to work as a whole album.

Singles Roundup: Mick Mars, Lucifer, Sister Shotgun, & Exit Eden

Let's dip into the ol' jukebox to see what we have this week.

Mick Mars - Loyal To The Lie

After at least a decade of being teased, we finally have the first song from Mick's first solo album. After all that talk, and his status as a 'legend', it's odd to see he's working with the guy who was mostly responsible for the shockingly good one-and-done album put out by Steven Adler's band just called Adler. Sadly, this song is not nearly on that level, as the sound Mick is going for is darker and dare I say more grunge, which I don't think plays well into the construction. It's heavy, yes, but the riff is more of the grinding kind that doesn't scream great guitar playing, and the tone doesn't leave as much room for a strong chorus. It's fine, and I don't think the other members of Motley Crue can do any better without serious help from outside songwriters, but I expected far more for as long as this has been in the incubator.

Lucifer - At The Mortuary

One of the albums we already know will be rolling out in the early part of next year is "Lucifer V", from which this latest single comes. Lucifer dares not stray from their formula, and I don't blame them. They've mastered the sound of old black-and-white horror-noir, and so long as they deliver good songs, there's no need to change. The issue has always been that no matter how much I like them, something about the delivery has a bit of that old white noise to it, and it doesn't stick in my memory. I'm feeling the same thing about this song, but when it's playing, I'm always charmed by another dose of their occult rock fun.

Sister Shotgun - Fin Du Monde

I still regularly listen to Sister Shotgun's album, "Fragments", so seeing them return is a nice boost. That record was modern and heavy, but packed with hooks, all delivered with Chloe's powerful and unique voice. I wish I could say this new song lives up to that standard, but they have leaned even harder into being modern, so much so that it has very little trace of the classic metal they were updating the last time we heard them. This is even more precise and robotic, and it saps the life right out of the song. It isn't bad, but it doesn't have the same power as their previous work. The talent is there, but it's pointed slightly off the target.

Exit Eden - Run

Why? Why? Why did this project that was a fun symphonic metal take on hit pop songs have to decide to write their own original material? I'm not sure who was clamoring for it, but it doesn't make any sense to me, because generic symphonic metal like this song doesn't feel or sound anything like what that first record gave us. And the fact they are apparently going to have the new record be roughly half original and half covers is only going to make it even more difficult to put the pieces together in my mind. I have wondered over the years if they were going to ever grace us with another record, and I would have liked to hear more metal pop covers, but I can do without this kind of song. Sorry.

Single Review: Green Day - The American Dream Is Killing Me

I'm starting to worry that there's something seriously wrong with Billie Joe Armstrong. It was bad enough that Green Day essentially pissed on their own fans when they released "Father Of All...", which was so clearly a half-assed album put out simply to fulfill contractual obligations. Calling it half-assed might actually be giving them too much credit, but I don't want to contemplate what fraction of an ass the hole counts as. Regardless, after that abomination, the band has put out the first statement of their latest era, and it raises yet more questions about Green Day's mental state.

That comes in the form of a certain lyric, where Billie sings that we're 'pedophiles' for the American dream. Uh... ok.

I'm not entirely sure which way he intends us to take that line. Is he trying to say the American dream is childish, so it would be creepy to be so invested in it? If so, it doesn't make much sense. That particular deviance isn't necessarily for things that are childish, since there are plenty of people into role play of various degrees I don't want to imagine who are as repulsed by what the term actually means as everyone else. Or does he mean it in the sense that wanting the American dream is just as disgusting a thought and urge? That doesn't seem to make any more sense, since I don't see how you can possibly equate wanting better for your life with the worst of humanity.

What I think is happening here is that Billie has completely lost the plot, and is as obsessed as his choice of terminology with getting Green Day back into the limelight. They cratered their appeal with the trilogy, couldn't regain their footing with "Revolution Radio", and then put a puking unicorn on the cover of their last album. Put this into that timeline, and they're now, in wrestling parlance, playing for the cheap heat. They make an album everyone thinks is one of the worst things they've ever heard? Well, at least they're talking about Green Day! Throw in a word you know will be controversial? Green Day is back in the news, baby! The greatest fans in the world reside in (insert your city)!

Or perhaps this is all a ploy to distract us from the fact the band doesn't have anything left in the tank. After all, this song is repetitive, trite, and about as deep as a paper cut. To think that this is the song from their upcoming album they thought was the best introduction to this new era of the band is rather shocking. If this is the song they think is going to make people love them again, if this is the song that defines their mission on this record, we're standing as witnesses as Green Day keeps failing to escape the gravity of the black hole their career has been morphing into.

What I think is true is simply that we gave Green Day far too much credit after "American Idiot" came out. That record was so successful, we forgot it was a complete accident, and that we created a story that never existed. Green Day was backed into a corner when the record they actually made was 'stolen' (there are theories out there they knew it was terrible and scrapped it on their own), so they never wanted to make their magnum opus. It's also not the political rebellion we talked ourselves into treating it as. The record is a teenage Lifetime movie set to music, with one bad, George Bush is like a Nazi, reference thrown in. Oh, and it's also not entirely a true concept album if one of the songs abandons the characters and story to talk about an episode from your own life and emotions. Minor gripe, but still true.

I am as guilty as anyone of giving Green Day too much due for that album's status as perhaps the defining album of my/our generation (I'm still taking suggestions for what else in the '95-08-ish time-frame would beat it out), and every year since has made me doubt Green Day ever more.

Maybe we should have questioned more at the time whether a band that started out singing about masturbating could really evolve into having something deep and important to say. I'm leaning toward that being a heavy "no".

Not only is the political commentary of this new song below the level of an Econ 101 class, but the entirety of the lyrics of the song look like it was dashed off in five minutes. That's not to say a good song can't be written that quickly, but if there was thought put into these words, it slipped right out through the holes in the logic.

Let's look back, though. On "Holiday", the political commentary was certainly more astute, but written in just as ham-handed a manner. Not only was there that Nazi reference I already mentioned, but Billie just had to throw the word 'fags' in there as well. Not only did that put a word into a song released as a single that couldn't get played on the radio, but it undercut the whole point of the song. It was seemingly about the war in Iraq, and then is suddenly about anti-LGBTQ policy. Huh?

But we can go back even further. When "Minority" came out on their best record (yes, "Warning" is their best record), it was no better. Calling out the 'Moral Majority' was a fitting target for a punk song, but then he threw in the line, "One nation under dog". I know it was supposed to be a snotty joke, but when one of the things that group believed was that everything but 'good Christian values' would lead to a world filled with bestiality, giving people who don't understand sarcasm an opening to accuse you of animal worship was self-defeating. The song's only belief was in being a contrarian. Standing up for a view that might be in the minority is fine, and can be noble, but wanting to be in the minority doesn't even make sense. If you, for instance, believe in equality and justice for people of all stripes, why would you want that position to be the minority? Look, it was a song written around a pun, and I'm sure Billie never bothered to think about any of the implications. That's the problem. I've written songs around puns too, but mine weren't trying to say anything important that could get lost in translation.

I would like to think that in thirty years, Green Day may have matured or gotten a bit more intelligent. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be the case. If you're going to be political and talk about weighty subjects, you have to at least know what it is you stand for. Ranting for the sake of ranting doesn't accomplish anything, and I'm not sure Green Day actually has a belief system other than doing whatever it takes to make people think they're still punks.

At my age, let alone their age, it's just sad to watch Peter Pan slapping on a bunch of eye-liner to hide the fact that he didn't grow up, but he did get old.

Album Review: Sky Empire - The Shifting Tectonic Plates Of Power: Part One

There are many things about progressive music I don't quite understand, and chief among them is the way they treat their vocalists. I get the prog isn't always interested in melodies and hooks, so the singers often get relegated to singing whatever they can shoehorn into the space between all of the complicated notes. It's not the best way to write songs, but we know what we're getting into before we hit 'play', so I'm not going to complain too much about that. Not yet, at least.

Where I get annoyed is when a band will sideline one of their members for huge stretches of time, as if they don't exist. In the case of this album, the press release makes a big deal of the fact Jeff Scott Soto has taken over as the vocalist... and then the record starts with a fifteen minute instrumental. Look, there are a lot of things I can say about how terrible the decision to open a record that way is, but the one that bothers me the most is that one of the members of the band is completely absent from the first song, and it's FIFTEEN MINUTES LONG. Try telling the guitar player he's going to be MIA for a quarter of the album and see how that goes over.

When Soto does finally get to prove he was there as the album was recorded, things don't get much better. "On The Shores Of Hallowed Haven" doesn't have much of a melodic hook to it at all, but the verse is written in what sounds like the wrong key for him, as his voice strains to keep up with the notes. He sounds worse than I've ever heard in those moments, and makes me wonder why the melody wasn't simply lowered to fit where his voice is strongest. He still sounds amazing when recording with W.E.T., so I know it isn't that his voice is shot. This is simply mismatching the song and singer, and it's unbelievable people so deeply rooted in the nerdiness of music wouldn't notice.

As the record moves along, there is plenty of intricate playing, and I would probably be amazed by some of it if I could dissect music theory as I was listening. Fortunately, I can't do that, so I'm able to hear music for whether it's memorable or not, and whether it makes me feel anything. This music doesn't, in any way, shape, or form. As fingers dance across fret-boards, they rarely stumble upon a series of notes that sticks out from the flurry. This is prog of the highest order, which means it has very little memorable songwriting in comparison to the sheer volume of notes being played.

There is no mention of whether this is a concept album or not, which I assumed it is, since the "Part One" note insinuates there is going to be another volume of this story. Honestly, after listening to the album, I couldn't tell you what the story is at all, other than the fact is involves god and demons. I thought I heard a song about Icarus, but I could have been filling in blanks that hadn't been fully explained. The thought of another record carrying on from here is not exactly exciting.

So what we have here is a record I'm not sure succeeds at anything. The songs aren't memorable, they aren't entirely pleasing to listen to from a production standpoint, and whatever the message is supposed to be gets lost along the way. Prog can be insufferable at times, and this is a particularly annoying instance. If this really is a concept album, spending over twenty minutes on instrumentals only goes to show these guys don't know what makes an album conceptual. If it isn't, I would say they should have spent more time refining this rather than promising a second album will be coming along.

We don't appreciate editing until we're presented with what happens when there isn't any.

Album Review: Serenity - Nemesis AD

Have you ever run across a band you know is good, and you do like, but they never release an album you actually enjoy in full? That's what my time with Serenity had been like. I knew they were good at what they do, and they have a couple of songs on every album I think are killer, but I just can't get into the records as full works. I don't know why that is, but something about their songwriting was too inconsistent for my tastes, and I was always wondering what it was I was missing.

That was until "The Last Knight" came out, which finally turned the tide. For the first time, I listened to the record start to finish and loved what I was hearing. There were the obvious standouts as always, but the rest of the album finally lived up to that standard. Serenity had done it, they had won me over...

And this record is being branded as a 'new era', already. Sigh.

That might be best embodied by the fact the band now features Marco from Temperance on guitar and backing vocals, who just so happened to be Georg's compatriot in Fallen Sanctuary. Now that they're working together in two bands, it really feels like there is no such thing as a band identity anymore, and music is just one mass of notes that gets divided up in random ways. That's not to speak ill of Marco, since I like Temperance, and I actually liked Fallen Sanctuary quite a bit too, but the music of all these groups is starting to self-cannibalize. That definitely kills some of my interest, if I'm being honest.

So does the subject matter. Apparently based on the life and work of a Renaissance painter, yet more talk about knights and crusades doesn't give me much to grasp onto. I don't have any delusions about being a sword-swinging warrior fighting against some vague evil, so these stories have almost no ability to resonate with my life or emotional state. They don't need to in order to be good songs, but if I'm trying to form a relationship with a new set of songs, being able to hear something I can use in my own life makes a huge difference. Without that connection, these are just melodies, and they have to be even better to make the same kind of impact.

That's what "The Last Knight" was able to do, since it suffered from the same issue regarding its subject matter. Those songs were packed with mammoth hooks, while this record is more restrained in that department. That might seem odd, since we see a renewed emphasis on symphonic elements here, but the bigger scope and sound actually works against the songs themselves. There is less room for the guitars to sound powerful, and vocal lines written with string accompaniment in mind don't have the same bounce and stickiness. At least that's how this comes across to me.

That being said, this record is still good. The odd thing is that it feels back-loaded, where the second half features songs like "Nemesis" and "The End Of Babylon", which deliver on Serenity's penchant for big hooks and sweeping melodies. Whatever my reservations are, when the band gives us songs like that, I'm fully on board. I don't think it's a coincidence that the latter song, which might just be my favorite on the record, also has less emphasis on the string arrangements than most of the others.

By the time the album is closing, I've come around on this being a worthy follow-up to "The Last Knight", even if I can't say it gets quite as far. The opening stretch of the album is a slow start, and I wonder how many people might hear those first few songs and tune out. That would be a shame, since the best songs are still to come.

As I was saying before, this isn't a record I'm even going to feel passionately about, given that I don't see how I can possibly connect it to my own life. That being said, it's a good record, even if Serenity, Temperance, and Fallen Sanctuary are drawing too much from the same well. For those who like all of that, this will be another obvious winner. I'm happy to say this is actually a positive surprise, given my doubts Sanctuary could strike gold again. It's nice to have expectations exceeded for once. There's been far too much of it going the other way.

Album Review: Robots of the Ancient World - "3737"

Let’s be honest with ourselves – it’s easy to be a doom band.  Let’s be honest with ourselves again – it’s easy to be a stoner band.  Ergo, it is easy to be a stoner doom band.  Inboxes of music people across the globe are positively turgid with demos and promotional material concerning a bunch of greasy, long-haired denim-wearers who have fuzzed out their guitars and decided to play blues-based, eight-minute dirges in two-four time.  And all of them have a name that combines some vestiges of fantasy (or the occult,) science fiction, ancient civilization, and a color.  If someone said to you “have you heard the new Chartreuse Parallactic Ziggurat album?” you already know that it’s a stoner doom record.  Parenthetically, it’s also easy to get noticed as one of these also-ran bands.  The mere appellation of “sounds like Black Sabbath” garners attention, since the Sab Four were such innovators and masters within the art form that their name carries great cache, yet to be, and perhaps never to be, diminished by time.

With great patience comes great reward, though.  For those willing to sift through the mire, there are occasional diamonds uncovered within the burgeoning piles of run-of-the-mill muck.  Enter into the fray Robots of the Ancient World (who, yes, are guilty of the naming convention mentioned above, but bear with us,) and their new release “3737.”  

The most difficult part of being a stoner or doom band is not only being interesting in some way, but maintaining whatever it is that’s so interesting throughout the duration of the record.  Truly, absent anything else, that’s the foremost strength of “3737,” and the thing that sets it apart from the nebulous cloud of contemporaries – this album is never boring.  

A number of important executive decisions were made here, not the least of which is that the album keeps to a slim six tracks, so even though they average about seven minutes said and done (the two-and-change interlude of “Apollo” notwithstanding,) it never feels as though “3737” has worn out its welcome, even as it wends through the sloping, ten-minute curves of “Silver Cloud” right at the end.

Not only does Robots of the Ancient World elude the noose of dragging on too long by its simple duration, it makes the most of its time through the use of catchy but varied and creative riffs, and juxtaposes that against the unique-for-the-genre vocals of Caleb Weidenbach.  Caleb bites his words off, not given to the airy groaning or wailing that is so often associated with the genre (even by Ozzy, truth be told,) and the twin guitars of Nico Schmutz (great name,) and Justin Laubscher never give into the temptation of extending a song out merely because the time is available to do no.  Everything snaps, everything has a purpose, and the end effect is kind of like if Misfits-era Danzig sang for “Escape From the Prison Planet”-era Clutch.  

It's through that lens that one must view the album opener “Hindu Kush,” as the Clutch-ian chug, highlighted with just a little accent of The Sword’s distortion, is both the album’s best piece, most anthemic, and sets a perfect table for the mid-throttle selections that come thereafter.

“3737” does have some of the traits more common to an album of this type – it’s easy to get lost in the head-nodding and lose focus on the music for periods at a time, but the band shows great skill in always changing the proceedings at just the right interval to bring attention back again.  It’s worth repeating what was said above – this album is never boring.

To make a comparison to wines, if you prefer your stoner doom to be more full-bodied and rich, then by all means spin this new Robots of the Ancient World record.  Your senses will be rewarded.

Album Review: Taylor Swift - 1989 (Taylor's Version)

The uncanny valley can be thought of like that moment on the highway when your car passes the crest of a small hill, and you can feel your body being pulled down by the seat-belt. We describe that as if our stomach is rising up in our chest, and what we're actually dealing with is a figment of gravity's distortion. The same thing can happen with time and our memories, as sometimes we are confronted with a doppelganger that makes us question our own sanity. It isn't quite deja vu, because we know it isn't the same, but it's so close we wonder if we've slipped into one of the theoretical alternate dimensions.

Taylor Swift has finally reached what I consider the most important chapter of the 'Taylor's Version' series. As she has reclaimed the rights to her songs in one of the most successful 'eff you's' in music history, we have confronted just how much Taylor Swift has come to define pop music in our current age. That started with '1989'.

Pop music and I have had an amicable divorce, and rarely have I felt a compulsion to look in on what my ex has been up to. We have moved on from each other, except for the cases where it is unavoidable we wind up in the same place at the same time, and I can't help but stumble across those feelings of longing for what pop music once meant to me. When "1989" came out, it started a new era of pop music we are still in the midst of, and it made me question whether I had actually signed the papers in pencil instead of pen.

No, I will not even try to defend "Shake It Off", but the rest of the record was the bending of time, taking the pop music Taylor and I grew up on, and melding it with the synthetic future we were still programming. If we believe in time loops, "1989" is evidence of one, as it shows how little changes from one generation to the next, other than the faces and voices who sing and shout in defiance of this fact.

So what do we make of a new version of this watershed album? This is where the uncanny valley comes into play, as these are nearly identical versions to what we have known and loved, but they aren't identical. There is just enough of a difference to know we are listening to a recreation, to see the slight-of-hand as it is being executed. The skill of magic still exists when we know how the trick is done, but the wonder is gone. I can't help but think that is the best explanation I can give for how I felt listening to 'Taylor's Version'.

The first thing of note is that the production has been modernized, with the overall sound being even louder and more compressed. The synths, and Taylor's voice, are put front and center even more than before. This gives the record an aggressive sound that doesn't match the cool delivery of the original, and it shifts the focus onto the one aspect the album is trying to hide; time.

Taylor Swift is still a young woman, and I'm not trying to say she has in any way diminished as a performer, but she isn't the same person who sang the original recordings of these songs. Her voice has different colors and overtones, and her inflections have changed after singing these songs hundreds of times on tour. After so much repetition, it's difficult for anyone but the most talented actress to put the same passion into the performances. The record always had an air of disconnection, which is one of the key factors that made me love it as much as I did, but it feels less intentional now than it did back then.

This is where we get to something we don't often recognize; the difference between the song and the recording. There is a reason why the Grammys award separate trophies to the writers and performers of the best songs of the year. A song is not a performance, even if that is how we have always experienced them. Songs are ethereal things that exist beyond us, even if they are entirely us. I'm getting a bit esoteric here, but the point I'm trying to make is that a great song is a great song no matter who is performing it. We heard that when Ryan Adams (a name I'm loathe to mention) covered the entire album for some unknown, but probably creepy, reason. The songs shone, even though he came at them from a completely different angle.

That is to say "1989" is still a great album, because the songs are great. No parallax distortion between our ears and our memories is going to change that. It does, however, show that even for those of us who are musicians, and who deal with hearing our own songs done in different ways, we grow attached to a certain performance. We begin to think of the song as being the same thing as that recording, even though we know it's not true.

This is all a long-winded way of saying that "1989" is a pop landmark, and would be regardless of which version came out first. I would likely say they are equally good if I was able to hear them with fresh and unbiased ears. I can't do that, though, and so I am left listening to a remake.

When "Psycho" was remade shot for shot, many of us asked what exactly the point was. It was the audience's fault if they couldn't see the brilliance in a film that didn't look quite of the time, not the movie's fault. The same is true here, as "1989" gets updated for the modern time. I know why Taylor Swift is doing this, and I commend her for taking control of her own music, but I also can't help but feel like I'm listening to the needle tracing the outline of a 'new and improved' sticker, when it might be new, but it surely isn't improved.

'Taylor's Version' isn't New Coke, it isn't that interesting. Instead, this is audio Crystal Pepsi.

Rolling Stone's List Begs The Question: What Makes A Great Guitarist?

Recently, Rolling Stone put out a new list of the 250 greatest guitarists of all time, which of course led to much consternation and complaining from the guitar community. Such is inevitable, but what these sorts of projects always do is remind me that I view the guitar quite differently than most people who play the instrument do.

I'm not going to rehash the picks, because their order really doesn't matter very much, other than to say there are certain names that pop up and always lead to sneering and derision. From the community's perspective, I understand why. From mine, I don't at all.

I like to draw a distinction between the terms 'guitar player' and 'guitarist'. We use them interchangeably, but I consider them very different takes on the same instrument. A guitar player is someone who plays the guitar, and can do amazing things from a technique and skill standpoint. A guitarist is someone who uses their guitar to make great music. You would think the music they play would obviously be a consideration, but I can't tell you how often I run across the attitude that chops and solos are all that matter when judging a guitar player.

Let's use a sports analogy here. Is the greatest quarterback the one who can throw the ball the hardest? Is the greatest golfer the one who can drive the ball the farthest? No, and no. Those are both skills, and they are impressive, but they aren't the point. There's a reason why home run derby and long drive competitions don't have regular, national television time-slots. They get boring very quickly, when you realize it's the same thing over and over again.

That is why I like to say something rather controversial; "___ is not a great guitarist." I usually fill that sentence in with Yngwie Malmsteen, but it can be any number of incredibly talented players. The reason I say that is because I have trouble saying people are good at what they do when they have never played a single note of music that has interested me. The point of music is not to be able to perform tricks with the fretboard, but to make good music. Isn't it?

I'm not sure if we can answer that question. There was a Steve Vai song that came out a while back, and after listening to it, I found it rather tuneless and just ok. In the guitar community, the video of him playing it on a multi-neck guitar in one take was a sensation, and it drove me absolutely crazy. If you have to watch someone play the music for it to be properly impressive, is the music actually impressive? I would say not. Music is not a visual art form, or at least it needs to be able to stand up as strictly audio, so those sorts of episodes make little sense to me.

Was it impressive to watch Vai play that song? Absolutely, it was. Would the actual song itself be any different if it was recorded in parts, and layered together in the studio? No, no it wouldn't.

And that's the problem with guitar playing. Ever since the glory days of classic rock, guitar players have been showmen who use their solos to try to rip attention away from the more obvious focal point at the front of the stage. We have always used solos as a shorthand for talent, with James Hetfield being perhaps the only player ever ranked so highly for his rhythm playing. That's only an entire side of guitar, and the side that allows for solos to even exist. Who needs that, right?

What I'm getting at is not a complaint over any of the people who are or aren't on the list, or where they rank. I really don't care enough to be outraged one way or the other. It's that when I see Kurt Cobain show up on a list like this, I completely understand it. What he has done with a guitar is more impressive than what Yngwie (Sorry, but I like beating up on the guy) has ever done; he's made people care. Writing memorable songs that have spoken to a generation of fans, songs that have stood the test of time, is a more important skill than sweep-picking or two-handed tapping.

If you want to prioritize technique and soloing when thinking about guitar players, go ahead. I'm not going to stop you, or tell you that you're wrong, but I would ask why writing songs is not the first and foremost thing that a guitarist should be known for. Music without music is what, exactly?

I like to think of the example of the novel, "Gadsby". It was written entirely without the letter 'e', and is a triumph of skill and determination as a writer. Does that make it any good, or the author a good writer? No, that fact is completely independent of its value as a work of art. Art is supposed to engage us, to make us feel something we can't get through any other means. A great story, or a great song, is able to do that. A parlor trick done with a guitar will not have that same impact, nor can it survive having the curtain pulled back on the illusion.

The point of all this is to say that people who are closest to something are often the worst judges of it. Musicians focus on aspects of music the majority of the audience can't even hear, and are amazed at the things they aren't able to do themselves, whether they even like the sound of them or not. There is an entire ecosystem of musicians who don't care about making music, but rather just the acts of making music, if that makes sense. There are so many guitar players who love playing guitar, but not playing music. I find myself wondering how their universe and mine can revolve around different centers.

Maybe I'm just a self-loathing guitarist, a guitar player who isn't impressed by guitar playing, because I know I'll never be able to play like that. I'm weird.

Album Review: Sorcerer - Reign Of The Reaper

Despite my affection for things that are melancholy, I don't often find myself listening to or enjoying much in the realm of doom. One of the rare exceptions to that was when Sorcerer released "The Crowning Of The Fire King", which blended doom and classic metal in such a way I couldn't deny it. It was epic and heavy, but also melodic, and it didn't drag along on tempos too slow to enjoy. I suppose that means it wasn't doom enough to be the kind of doom I don't enjoy, but let's not get caught up too much in the nomenclature. The point is that Sorcerer proved they could do something few bands could.

That made it rather disappointing when "Lamenting Of The Innocent" failed to capture me in the same manner. That record, for whatever reason, simply didn't have the same staying power. The question I found myself with was asking which of the two was the anomaly, which is what we're here to answer today.

The title track is a prime example of what leaves me a bit confused by Sorcerer. It has a slow build to an epic chorus, which is great. Then it completely stops as one riff transitions to the next, and the solo comes in shredding. Then it introduces some growling vocals in the coda. Bringing various influences into the mix is a good thing, but there needs to be more cohesion about when and how you do it. For instance, the shredding solo after the song slows to a crawl makes no sense at all. If the riff had been building in tempo, then it would be justified. Instead, it feels like it comes out of nowhere, and it gives the song more of a 'pieced together' aura.

The thing that gets me the most is (and this will sound weird coming from me of all people) the lack of focus on massive guitar riffs. While I love melodic choruses as much as anyone, doom like this needs to have those huge, epic riffs you can 'duh duh duh' to yourself like Beavis & Butthead used to do. Those are why Candlemass has long been one of the first names anyone mentions when it comes to doom, and the comparison makes Sorcerer sound like they are missing out on a key element to this sound. Without those riffs, there's an argument to be made that this is just slower alternative rock.

If I view the album through that lens, it makes more sense to me. Everything is focused on making the melodies stand out as much as possible, which leads us in interesting directions. It does give us rousing choruses, but it also leaves the album feeling less heavy than it actually is. The other aspect is that the slower tempos suck energy out of the melodies, so while they are aiming for grandeur, they lose some of their bite as it takes longer for each note to transition to the next. There's a reason why bands often play their songs faster in a live setting, and it's because it's harder to get invested when the tempos don't match the type of melody you're going for.

This record feels like it wound be more comfortable, and more effective, if you increased the bpm by a handful on nearly every song. Maybe it wouldn't be as much doom, but I think it would be a more memorable experience. As it is, Sorcerer sounds like expert professionals, but the songs don't cut with the same level of surgical precision. This makes two albums in a row where I'm left wondering what it was about "The Crowning Of The Fire King" that made it so special.