Fleet Foxes - Helplessness Blues

I was raised up believing, that I would never hear a song about conformity that made me be the man I wanted to be. But alas, this intrepid quartet from Seattle, WA, never ceases to amaze me. Their eponymous debut doesn't just stand head and shoulders above all other 2008 releases, it lives in another world. "Helplessness Blues" is the road-weary first cousin of the Foxes' previous releases: thumping, moving, yearning, unaware yet serene, assured yet apprehensive, rhythmic, forward-looking and optimistic. "If I had an orchard I'd work 'till I'm sore" croons Robin Pecknold; you can pretty much taste the sun-kissed juices flowing out of that nectarine. Their music is more than just sweet, and the upcoming album will be anything but helpless.

Simon and Garfunkel - Richard Cory

You think of S&G, you think of bright prickly harmonies. You see couples with picnic baskets enjoying lunch by the seaside. You imagine a big bonfire singalong on a beach. You would never think of a song like "Richard Cory".

This is a tale of jealously, angst, confusion, simoultaneous disdain and awe for the rich and famous socialite with seemingly no flaws. He owns half ot his whole town. He was born into money. You love to hate him, but then when you meet him, or see him interviewed, you can't help but admit that, yeah, that guy's awesome. I wish I was him. I still hate him though.

Simon and G feel the same way. They dream of the orgies on his yacht. They toil in Richard Cory's factory. The instrumentation is sparse, detached, angular - the acoustic guitars leave little to the imagination. The opening licks to the verses are brief, muddled, bleak. The drums are simple, driving, oppressive. you learn to love to hate Richard Cory after a few lilstens.

And then the end, sweet redemption, or disillussion - Richard Cory goes home one night and....silence....no chord....Paul barks out "and put a bullet in his head". Another pause. Think about it. Then the drums come back in and guess what - You still work in his factory, your life is unchanged, you'd still rather be famous and dead than working your dead-end job.

The Rolling Stones - That's How Strong My Love Is

What's this? His first Stone's song review and it's a cover? An Otis Redding cover? How dare he!

Meh, I dare.

I like this version. I don't like it better than the Otis version, I just like it different, that's all. There is something about the way Mick sings, claws, hurls the word strong at you that just really hits it right where it bleeds. Otis's's love is too pure, too gentle, too sweet steamy soul. Mick's love is desperate, angry, primal, and throaty. Ju pick.

I like old Stones. It often goes unnoticed because half the songs on their early albums were just RnB covers. No beef here with Paul and John on this one, but I'd rather listen to the Stone's cover Route 66 than ever ever ever hear Mr. Moonlight again in my life. That's how strong my hatred for that song is.

Ray Davies - All Night Stand

A throwback. But oh so cozy. Early Kinks, à la "You Really Got Me", created a wall of sound with just one instrument. Mmm that fuzzy guitar. Ba na na na na. Ba na na na na. Girl, you've got me so I don't know what I'm doing.

"All Night Stand" is "Got Me"'s Sunday morning hangover. But it's a jubilant hangover, one where each sharp stab of pain is worn like a badge of honor.

Simplicity never sounded so good. The same old chord progression, that derivative 60's hook. It doesn't matter, it just works. Forty seconds in, everybody is in on the fun. Ray is joined by other voices, a piano, some drums. They're in no hurry, nowhere they need to be. But something about the effort just isn't quite effortless, reminding you not to just listen. Ray's been a thousand places, a thousand girls, and he kind of wants you to know it.