But what’s so confusing about this mindset is that these bands are still here—they don’t merely exist in 70s rocker garb and sepia tones. The reluctance to provide space for artists once hailed as the greatest songwriters and musicians of their generation has led to a lot of different responses from these same artists. Billy Joel decided to quit on a high point (why bother when you can sell out Madison Square Garden over 100 times with the music you’ve already recorded), while Paul McCartney made a surprise leap back into popular relevancy with Egypt Station (an album I didn’t find remarkable, though you can’t deny numbers). But the majority of artists—Paul Simon, Bob Dylan, and Neil Young—to name a few, have desperately tried to hold on with muddled efforts and unremarkable songs. The Who’s first release in thirteen years, WHO, doesn’t fall into this category. 

It certainly won’t join the ranks of the albums that brought the band notoriety, but it works as tasteful fan service that’s much more self-aware than most. After both the tragic deaths of Keith Moon and John Entwistle, the remaining half of the English rock band never quite found its way back to its initial genius. WHO, however, delivers an impressive amount of familiar sound from a distant band that put out innovative rock operas and a sizeable amount of smashed guitars.

Despite songs that provide loyal fans with some comfort, echoing back to hit songs, the album isn’t able to fully deliver the same musical highs from their past. And they probably can’t. They’re older—the years are catching up and The Who just isn’t as relevant as they used to be. That’s also why it works far better than most artists from the same slice of music history—Roger Daltrey and Pete Townsend are fully aware of it. 

The first words that burst out from a still rocking Daltrey vocal performance are both refreshingly and unexpectedly self-aware:

“I don’t care / I know you’re gonna hate this song / And that’s it / We never really got along / It’s not new, not diverse.”

The opening track, “All the Music Must Fade,” is the anti-comeback song, discussing how anything the band releases will never be completely unique or revolutionary, there’s too much content and too much overlap in the music industry. The instrumentation, ironically, sounds an awful lot like past Who songs, but in this setting, it’s a welcome surprise. The age argument is fitting when it comes to discussing The Who’s unexpected return—full tour stretches have been postponed due to health concerns in recent years; instead of sticking to talks of rebelling against older generations and pinball champions, the music duo is tackling age head-on. There are talks of tumors (“Ball and Chain”), wistfully looking back “on being twenty-four” (“Break the News”), with a healthy dose of self-criticisms of being “snotty young kids” and “trying hard to stay young” (“We Don’t Want to Get Wise”). 

Nothing truly matches the unmistakable rock-and-roll energy of “All the Music Must Fade,” but “I Don’t Want to Get Wise” and “Detour” are strong entries when it comes to the overall sound, with enjoyable harmonies and self-commentary that proves captivating. There’s nothing quite like hearing Roger Daltrey and Pete Townsend talk about their past screw-ups and the qualms they had with each other over their tumultuous relationship (“he was drunk…he was late”). 

Though this album can easily be considered a worthy effort when it comes to the subset of matured bands, there are definitely some misses. “She Rocked My World” adopts Latin musical influences that feel misplaced for the band and is frankly, an uncomfortable song with its growling vocals and creepy intonations. “Danny and the Ponies” is a less than stellar end to an otherwise respectable release with an inexplicable amount of obvious and unenjoyable autotune. Painful dips into ill-fitting genres and someone who got a little too excited about voice correcting technology aside, when this album sounds like The Who famous in the 60s and 70s, there’s nothing better. 

“Got Nothing to Prove,” which should have been the closing track, belongs firmly in the 60s with eery sound replication—classic doses of reverb are utilized, and 60s Britpop vocals dominate with a soaring horns section. You would sincerely have a hard time convincing me that this song wasn’t recorded in the 60s, unearthed and thrown in as an unreleased song. When a listener gets a rare song that so closely echoes a lost era, there’s something to be said for a band not trying to stay relevant with current culture, but rather encapsulating a part of music history that only those who helped create it have the means to recreate it. 

I had the pleasure of seeing The Who in concert a couple of years back; although the crowd was certainly far from young, Daltrey was absolutely wailing, hitting all the expected vocal highs, and Townsend was energetic as ever on full-length guitar solos. It’s certainly easy to be skeptical about aging talent, but in that moment, it was clear that age wasn’t slowing them down one bit. Although age inevitably dims the stars of many musical careers, that doesn’t mean it’s game over. There’s no harm in allowing space for past artists, silencing remaining genius might lead to a world of missed surprises.

The post Album Review: “WHO” by The Who appeared first on KRUI Radio.

To be honest, I haven’t really listened to much Yeasayer before; this album was recommended by my younger brother and I’m honestly not sure how or where he found it, but I am glad he did. Amen & Goodbye is just one of those albums that are just so outlandishly strange taken out of context, but once given a thorough listen are actually an unexpected gem.

Now that I gave you a bit of background, if I had to sum Amen & Goodbye up in one sentence or phrase it would be: “Sort of like a rocket ship co-piloted by a futuristic alien and  medieval wizard crashed in the middle of a 70’s music festival.”

This album is kind of all over the place in a way that is both a bit confusing and pretty fun. The track list itself is a pretty wild read: Daughters of Cain, “I Am Chemistry,” Silly Me, Half Asleep, Dead Sea Scrolls, Prophecy Gun, Computer Canticle 1, Divine Simulacrum, Child Prodigy, Gerson’s Whistle, Uma, Cold Night, and Amen & Goodbye.

“Daughters Of Cain” opens really soft and dreamy and sounds like it could have been plucked straight from a psychedelic album from the 70’s. Just as the song builds momentum though, it is abruptly ended to make way for “”I Am Chemistry.””

How does one even begin to describe “”I Am Chemistry?”” Well maybe I should start with the song: the song is really catchy and has the futuristic alien trying to fit into a 70’s music festival vibe. Overall I really enjoyed the song. The music video though, freaked me out to the point where I do not know if I can listen to the song the same way again. It reminded me of a short story called Rogue Farm written by Charles Stross, with the “freaky” levels. (If you haven’t read the story, you find it here; or watch a video made for it.) I dare you to watch the music video and not feel uncomfortable by the end.

Moving on, “Silly Me” is a fun, upbeat song and sounds like it would fit in perfectly on an “Alternative Summer Hits of the 2010s” playlist. “Half Asleep” brings back the slow-moving 70’s vibes mixed with a falsetto chorus and drum beat that brings the medieval sound into play. It’s a good background noise song, but not too much of a standout.

“Dead Sea Scrolls” brings almost a disco sound into the mix, and is probably one of my favorites the album with it being just kind of goofy sounding with really fun instrumentals. “Prophecy Gun” has another strange music videos, although it’s the type of strange where you can still sleep at night. The song has a pretty lengthy instrumental intro, though once the lyrics start it sounds almost like a hymnal church song.

“Computer Canticle 1” is just 28 seconds of metallic instrumentals; not much to see here.

“Divine Simulacrum” seems like the perfect marriage of the “futuristic alien and medieval wizard at a 70’s music festival” themes going on. If there was an “angsty” song on the album this would probably be it, and it closes out with just the buzzing sound of a porch bug zapper.

“Child Prodigy” is another short instrumental interlude: seconds of medieval string music with clapping over top. I actually kind of dig it.

“Gerson’s Whistle” starts off as a canticle-eques song and then morphs into an eerie futuristic sound once the lyrics begin. The merge of the two styles is pretty intriguing and is a fun listen. “Uma” starts off with what suspiciously sounds like a Theremin, and then leads into soft, lovey-dovey lyrics. “When our thoughts really connect / I know you need my sound effects. / Hope I still can make you smile when I get to be senile.”

Next up, “Cold Night” doesn’t really fit into the previous themes so I can’t really put it in a box by those standards, but it has a catchy beat and helps keep the energy up as we reach the finally of the album. Finally, Amen & Goodbye is wrapped up with another short and sweet instrumental in the form of a 49 second “Amen & Goodbye.”

As I said, overall I ended up really enjoying this album; it was wacky and weird in all the right ways. (Thanks little bro.) You can experience the full album for yourself below and find it on iTunes. Also be sure to check out Yeasayer’s site for any other band or tour updates!

The post Album Review: “Amen & Goodbye” by Yeasayer appeared first on KRUI Radio.