Wyclef also touches the most serious of topics, namely the January 12 earthquake. In "Earthquake", he mentions a young prostitute: "I begged for the young girl's life. But when the earthquake came, it took her to the other side."
The rest of the album deals with the danger of running for president in the fractured nation of Haiti. In "Death Threats" he tells of his enemies threatening to take his wife and daughter if he didn't flee the country.
All criticism aside, Plastic Beach is a producer's dream. An always-thumping rhythm section and deep, crisp mix almost mandates some cranking of the ol' speakers to get the full effect. And if not impressed by production, you should at least listen when guest appearance Snoop Dogg takes the mic! I mean, who else spits rhymes like, "Belly floppin' lockin' while I'm rockin' in the bubble bath..."? And if you for some outrageous (but understandable) reason, dislike Snoop Dogg, well, at least give credit to Damon Albarn (mastermind behind the Gorillaz operation), who keeps the listener guessing with sounds both familiar and futuristic.
But let's be real, kids. You didn't sail over to Fat Guy in a Little Coat for another typical review. So I decided to find the truest Gorillaz fan I know--the record had him tasting colors! So without further ado, I hand it over to MC Crowl.
"Have you ever wanted to travel through time? I mean to be the first one to do it? Wouldn't that be grand? Well, sadly, yours and mine dream of time travel primeacy is to be a secondary venture now.
The Gorillaz, Plastic Beach, is a one of a kind mix that could best be summized as a global expression of hip hop and melodical flows that transcends time. With its obscure falsettos of sometimes cultural relavence, and sometimes good sounding vernacular alone, layed amidst electric musicality stretching from the 60's-70's inspired bass and keys, to a futuristic sound that can make us look forward to the years of unknown that lie ahead, one can't help but wonder.. stare...ask how.. and hope to be at least the second person to travel through time. Because there is no other way that such a combination of sounds, that had me tasting colors by the end of it, could be produced any other way."
- Adam Crowl
"I never liked young kids' music," says Clapton, explaining the direction of this album. "I like old people’s music. When I look for what I’m going to listen to, I go backwards. Most people are trying to figure out, 'How do I get in the fast lane, going that way?' I’m going in the other direction - I want to find the oldest thing to do."
Say no more. After a 50-year career, he still looks back to his origins.
Most of the time, an album's lovability stems from its music. "That production is so clever," we say. "Every song could be a number one hit." "I can't decide which track is my favorite."
Yes and amen, and all the more for Flags. But there's something more empathetic about her third album that sets it in high and lofty places in my mind—it's the mature simplicity behind the album that shows what sort of musical strides Fraser has taken the last couple years. Her first two albums, I'll admit, didn't blow my mind. Sure, there's a pop hit here or there, but I wouldn't listen to Shadowfeet on repeat for the entire duration of a four hour road trip.
With Flags, I would. I just did. And I will again. And that, for me, is Flags' most noteworthy accomplishment. I could ramble on for hours about the detailed attention the album pays to each track's balanced production; to Brooke's clever choice of guitar tone and use of gutsy drum timbres; to her moods that range from dark and desperate to pep and cheerful quirk; to those honest lyrics whose teeter-totters of mystery-and-hope, love-and-sacrifice, pain-and-courage haven't yet failed to keep me guessing.
- Rick Jones
I have always been fascinated by tornados. I can vividly remember the incredible experience when I was a child watching the Wizard of Oz and witnessing Dorothy’s house twirling about in the melee of the wind. As she looked out her window, she could see arbitrary people and things being tossed about as they were also caught in the storm. That singular scene evoked such a feeling of fascination towards tornados that it has never left me. From time to time that emotion is again rekindled; and recently, that experience has been revisited by the effects of Jonsi’s record “Go”.
The record lifts a person off their feet with dramatic diligence and sets them down in a place foreign to where it picked them up. Some speculate the album lacks cohesion or coherence, and to these allegations I would declare with belligerent boldness that those critics are quite wrong. To criticize a thing for being fragmented is only accurate if that scheme is shattered enough to notice the fragments. But this record plays as one complete song; it has almost in it the characteristics of a soundtrack (the melody that follows the actions of life). It’s always moving as though chasing a butterfly or filming the formations of clouds or celebrating the seasonal shifts of nature. This may interfere with the feeling of horizontal harmony that one emotionally expects from a record; that experience of singularity that helps the mind to focus and attach itself to something. But what this record has done is attach itself to the chaos of that singular and solitary event called creation.
In regards to its coherence, what the critics would decry is the lack of linguistic consistency. I am told that Jonsi’s speech frequents in and out of Icelandic and English. But again, what a close evaluation would discover is that those two fine tongues are the minority. His primary and most effective language is what can only be distinctly described as Squealic. His songs do not require a cognizant or cerebral recognition of the words in order to be understood. They only demand a mind who’s attention can be constantly barraged with new and shimmery emotions in a sudden and unexpected frequency.
Perhaps the most unique part of any cyclone is its eye. And if there is one song that gives the listener a glimpse into the record’s curious and calm center it would be the third track appropriately called “Tornado”. The style and rhythm of the song carries the true artistic bulk of the record, and it represents the perfect point of focus for any listener.
There is an overwhelmingly evocative feeling that brings me to believe that the songs surrounding this one are merely meant to provide a rite of passage towards the discovery of this center. Yet, as the listener is thrown back into the flurry of consonant songs, he is eventually tossed away and begins to see, as the musical twister spastically drifts off, that the purpose of every exceptional tempest is to point us back to the extraordinary land where we have emerged from.
- Gabe Finochio
Sufjan has stated that the majority of Adz content was inspired by an artist from Louisiana named Royal Robertson. A schizophrenic, whose strange and disturbing art work heavily focused on the end of the world -- apocalyptic depictions of aliens, lasers, and strange creatures destroying things. The live-show, as well as the album booklet, featured many of Robertson's drawings or graphics derived from them.
Why Sufjan is so fascinated with Robertson's art that he would dedicate an album to him is beside me. What I do know is that Sufjan does an amazing job emulating Robertson's art in musical form on Adz. When the album begins, one is catapulted into the world of Royal Robertson -- full of apocalyptic events and warnings. The title track Age of Adz makes one feel as though the rapture could take place any moment.
Before the announcement in August that Sufjan was releasing a new album, we were all a bit disgruntled with his lack of new material. No one was quite sure if we would ever get a new Sufjan album, with Stevens saying he had forgotten the art of song writing after composing the instrument-classical BQE and stating that his 50 states project was a joke, a promise he no longer intended to fulfill.In Adz, Sufjan shows us that not only can he still write songs, but he does it with such audacity and brilliance that the album is easily one of the best of 2010.
Adz is a masterful, vivid, full, engaging, and beautiful piece of art. In my estimation, and likely Sufjan's, Adz is not simply an album -- but an art project.
- Ian Bailey
The album's thumping percussive backbone makes it blastable through stereo speakers, but in quieter moments, the spiritual and existential themes that surface reveal a vulnerable underbelly. Tracks like "Hustla" bristle with ghetto attitude ("hope my baby grows up to be a hustla"), but in "Radio Daze," reflection casts light on spiritual longing - "from birth born hurtin' and yearnin' for certain somethings" and the struggle to maintain hope in a troubling world.
Ultimately, the album is about moving from darkness to light. "Out on these streets where I grew up," they sing, "first thing they teach you is not to give a [expletive]" But they refuse to stay there: "That type of thinking won't get you nowhere / someone has to care."
- John Adams
Although Jeff's extraordinary skill set isn't always showcased, his deliberate reluctance leaves space for other talents, including a 64 piece orchestra that is most prominent on "Hammerhead". In his old age, we behold a guitar genius who takes a humble pose that is diametrically opposed to guitar-god contemporaries like Satriani and Vai. For Beck, less is more. These ten songs are delicate and go down smooth, like aged wine. In Beck's world, music is art. And every note counts. Each harmonic, each slide, burns bright in his starry night sky, paint-stroked with waves of sonic expression. Undeniable is Beck's freedom to make music he loves, rather than spin a crowd-pleaser production.
Shredders like Satriani have a short shelf life. But Beck's music will live on.
- Gabriel Adams
