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by Zachary Williams

23 Sep 2010


In the glory age of rock music (mid 1960s-early 1970s), the single was conceptualized as its own entity, separate from long-playing records. Particularly in Britain (where arguably the best music was being made), the album was a unified unit, not to be disjointed by an out-of-place single. Bands such as the Beatles and the Rolling Stones crafted their most commercially-appealing work for the singles market and AM radio airplay, leaving their more “artistic” exploration to the long-playing format. Led Zeppelin honored this distinction to such an extent that the group did not officially release singles from its monolithic albums (some of the band’s songs were released as singles without its consent). American labels, constantly thinking about ensuring profits, often insisted on including singles on albums or reconfigured the albums themselves (see the American versions of the early Stones and Beatles LPs). Along with the rock titans from across the Atlantic, American artists like the Beach Boys, Bob Dylan, and the Byrds crafted radio ready 7” sides between LPs as well.

This notion of between-album major works must have both excited and jaded listeners. This business model ensured constant saturation from your favorite bands. Imagine obtaining Rubber Soul in December 1965 and hearing the “Paperback Writer”/”Rain” single only six months later—which itself was merely a stopgap until Revolver’s August 1966 release. This kind of output is remarkable considering major contemporary artists routinely take a half-decade to release follow ups. The great rock bands of the ‘60s were so prolific that many of their albums stand up as the greatest of the genre while lacking their most popular concurrent works. Imagine “Strawberry Fields Forever” and “Penny Lane” replacing “Within You, Without You” and “Good Morning, Good Morning” on the Beatles’ 1967 album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. How nicely would Bob Dylan’s Highway 61 Revisited look with “Positively 4th Street” replacing “From a Buick 6”?

by Timothy Gabriele

22 Sep 2010


Is there a more loathed creature out there than the music critic? Despite ranking somewhere between politician and lawyer in the public consciousness, the conflation of the Internet’s girth has seen the sheer volume of critics expand seismically. This, in and of itself, does not implicitly suggest a growth in demand, but the correlating rise in the layman’s musical knowledge (thanks to the bottomless resource of the Internet) suggests that music criticism is a desirable vice, like celebrity tabloids, gambling, or drugs. We dislike the idea of it, but we simply cannot tear ourselves away from the bottomless pit of consumption (in this instance, information and media consumption). 

The critics themselves share a portion of the fault in their poor public opinion, of course. The traditional music press in its heyday so seamlessly transformed itself into a placard for record labels and big box stores—churning out consumer reviews rather than focusing on relevant conversations about art in the age of access—that it hardly seems surprising that a new journal folds every couple of weeks. Nose-elevating cultural analysts have been quick to point out, with more than a hint of schadenfreude, that consumer reviews make little sense in an era when you can just stream or download the album yourself before purchasing (if the actual buying of music is even considered at all).  The conversation, they say, needs to go further than a friendly recommendation.

by Christian John Wikane

21 Sep 2010


Brooklyn residents didn’t know how lucky they were on the evening of September 8th.  Neither did Gothamites who took the No. 2 or 3 train to Atlantic Ave. and walked along the restaurant-studded sidewalks of Fifth Avenue in Park Slope to Southpaw. The evening’s attraction had traveled a collective 6,447 miles to perform one show. Without the promise of reappearing in New York (or anywhere else for that matter) anytime soon, the three members of the Family Stand walked out onstage to the sound of an adoring audience clearly thrilled to have the band back in its hometown.

The occasion for Sandra St. Victor, Peter Lord, and V. Jeffery Smith to unite for one night only was the release of In A 1,000 Years, their fifth studio album since first arriving on the scene as Evon Geffries and the Stand in 1987.  One inspired rechristening later, the Family Stand released Chain (1990), landed a number three R&B single with “Ghetto Heaven” and continued to saturate the airwaves with “In Summer I Fall”. Moon In Scorpio (1991) held listeners of progressive funk-rock rapt while also underscoring that the musical range of the Family Stand was not limited to such facile genre hyphenations. The terrain of their musicality was (and remains) vast, confounding an industry driven by categorization and commodification.

by Chris Colgan

21 Sep 2010


Bullying is an epidemic that unfortunately still plagues schools all over the world. No matter how many punishments exist for it or how many lessons are planned around it, the problem still pervades the lives of children and adolescents everywhere. Celebrities of all kinds, ranging from pop musicians and rappers to actors and TV personalities, have tried to raise awareness about the issue in a multitude of different campaigns and causes. Now, true to form, the metal community has stepped up and delivered its message on the topic.

Swedish melodic death metal band Scarpoint is not widely known, having only released one full-length album, The Silence We Deserve (2007), thus far in its career. However, the group’s extensive touring résumé has connected it with some of the biggest names in its country’s sprawling metal scene, as well as other prominent figures from the surrounding region. Thus, when the band decided to record an anti-bullying song and release it as a way to raise money and awareness, it had just the right contacts to achieve the recognition it hoped for.

“Open Your Eyes” is a one-off song by Sweden United, the official name for the group assembled by Scarpoint. The members of Scarpoint are responsible for the instrumentation on the song. In addition to Scarpoint vocalist Henrik Englund, an all-star cast of Scandinavian vocalists lend their talents to the song: Jens Kidman (Meshuggah), Jimmie Strimmell (Dead by April, ex-Nightrage), Anette Olzon (Nightwish), Björn “Speed” Strid (Soilwork), Zak Tell (Clawfinger), Martin Westerstrand (Lillasyster), Tom Englund (Evergrey), and Peter Tägtgren (Hypocrisy, Pain). The song was written by Scarpoint and ex-Dead by April guitarist Pontus Hjelm, produced by Clawfinger keyboardist Jocke Skog, and mixed by production wizard Jens Bogren.

by Jason Cook

20 Sep 2010


Mimicking the naming convention for Morricone’s opening track on the Exorcist II soundtrack, and irrespective of the 1955 American film of the same name, Ennio Morricone’s “Interrupted Melody (Suspended Sound)” is a simple, almost processional piece, a highlight of the composer’s encapsulate work on the soundtrack to Exorcist II: The Heretic. Considerate enough to run beneath the title sequence of a less conceptual film, its motif is repeated once more on the album, playing more slowly and with the earnest of a Disney film in “Interrupted Melody”.

Morricone’s naming convention, “(Suspended Sound)”—and, for “Regan’s Theme”, “(Floating Sound)”—seem to be implications of each respective piece’s dynamic timbre. “(Suspended Sound)” plays at a higher velocity, more within earshot of the listener. Its strings and slow piano are recorded and compressed at an almost pop-music level, sounding more literal and akin to something more fit for television. “Interrupted Melody” is cathartic and a logical antonymous motif to the shadow of Mike Oldefield’s “Tubular Bells” from the series’ first film.

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