I don’t think that when “Loser” first launched Beck into public consciousness that very many people—fans and critics alike—could have foreseen such a long and varied career. Even with the landmark Odelay, it was hard to decipher what to make of this guy.
Charting with “Loser” and it’s younger brother “Where It’s At,” the slack-rap style only captured part of the story, and in this decade Beck built upon his almost schizophrenic need to make all kinds of music—folk, pop, straight country, hip-hop, soul, disco, noise rock… and more—strengthening his legend as one of the most varied pop stars in music history.
Thanks to Beck’s chameleon-like approach to a career, Guero was seen by some as a step back. While it may be the one record in the Beck catalog that sounds most like another (in this case, Odelay), in actuality, Guero is more an amalgamation of every album that preceded it, a fact that makes it possibly the most “Beck-like” album Beck has ever released.
The Beckism of the album means it’s all stylistically over the map, but in a good way. Whereas standard, sales-hungry, genre-hopping pop albums (see: Fergie-era Black Eyed Peas) feel like disparate collections of singles, Beck’s albums are always grounded in a natural cohesiveness.
This innate skill allows Beck to include the Spanish whiteboy hip-hop of the title track “Que Onda Guero” alongside “Girl,” a contradictorily sunny electro-pop song about kidnapping. On the vaguely Brazilian “Missing,” you begin to understand after a mere 4 songs that Guero the album collects styles from all of Beck’s previous work, from the light folk-rock of Mutations to the crunch of Odelay, and so on. The end result sounds something like a B-sides companion to a greatest hits record, only these tracks much more than afterthoughts.
(part of my Best Albums of the 2000s list)
Also by this Artist:
?? Sea Change (2002), ?? Modern Guilt (2008)
#149 The Information (2006)
#155 Record Club: Velvet Underground & Nico (2009)
#347 Modern Guilt Acoustic (2009)
#452 Record Club: Songs of Leonard Cohen (2009)
I wish I knew what happened to Rogue Wave’s cred in the time that’s passed since this album’s release. Sure, leaving Sub Pop for Brushfire Records—Jack Johnson’s label released the band’s 2007 album, Asleep at Heaven’s Gate—probably didn’t help, but where did all the love go? Even the snobs at Pitchfork raved about this band once upon a time.
And yet five years later, they’re almost forgotten, and certainly not as hip as they once might have been. Luckily hipness was never a factor for me. Actually, it worked against them. It still does.
At the heart of the band called Rogue Wave is an average Bay Area dude who writes sensitive songs with an occasional layer of fuzz and lo-fi rock to bolster the message. That’s probably what got the band so much buzz in the beginning (that and the inevitable Shins references at a time when that band was riding a wave of popularity), but in the end, Rogue Wave is a pretty cut and dry case of sensitive guy rock.
This of course explains why I love their music so much. Whether in quiet moments like “Salesman at the Day of the Parade” or on punchy, poppy numbers like album opener “Bird on a Wire” or The OC-backed “Publish My Love,” Rogue Wave nestles smoothly into a niche somewhere between indie rock and soft rock. They’re not really fit for either world, but it’s that dichotomy that makes them interesting.
(part of my Best Albums of the 2000s list)
Also by this Artist:
?? Out of the Shadow (2004)
#275 Asleep at Heaven’s Gate (2007)
If one takes the cover art and title of Ryan Adams’ third album literally, one might think that these were tossed-off demos that he just up and decided one day to release on record. For the prolific Adams, who in addition to his whopping 9 albums released in the 2000s has countless full-record bootlegs available on the net, this might be a reasonable assumption.
If it is the case, and Demolition really is a series of rough sketches, throwaway ideas and not-quite-there songs, then the album also serves as a testament to why, for all his faults and lack of self-editing, Ryan Adams is one of the best songwriters of his generation.
For demos, some of these songs are pretty refined in their simplicity. “Cry On Demand,” with nothing more than Adams guitar, voice and a plaintive piano melody, is an altogether pleasant slice of melancholy. “Starting to Hurt” is a likeable ancestor of the rock-oriented approach of (the aptly titled) Rock ‘n’ Roll. Even the one-joke “Tennessee Sucks” manages to win me over thanks to the “anything goes” charm of these sessions.
Even in the starkest moments, Adams shines, like on “She Wants to Play a Game of Hearts,” “Dear Chicago” and “Tomorrow,” each finding a heart within their morose lyrics. The best and most complete track though is “Chin Up, Cheer Up,” a true country song worthy of inclusion on either Heartbreaker or Gold. All in all, Demolition is a surprisingly varied, textured work for something so unfinished and unfettered.
(part of my Best Albums of the 2000s list)
Also by this Artist:
#77 Gold (2001)
#97 Love Is Hell (2003)
#181 Heartbreaker (2000)
#250 Cold Roses (2005)
#258 Easy Tiger (2007)
#287 Jacksonville City Nights (2005)
#300 Cardinology (2008)
#489 29 (2005)
#536 Rock ‘n’ Roll (2003)