Greetings, readers. Let’s brush off the clouds of this moody Monday with something bright and shiny! Like the new music video for Scissor Sister’s “Any Which Way”, my favorite song off their new album, Night Work.
This video is a big improvement over the one for “Fire With Fire”. It’s quirky, colorful, and playful. There’s so much that I’m not sure what to make of: the pyramids of solo cups, the colored body suits, and of course the sushi cannon. It warrants repeat viewing, but that’s fine by me. Ana Matronic’s little monologue cracks me up each time. I want one of those little alarm clocks and the pyromaniac birthday cake helmet that Del Marquis gets to wear. Also, Jake Shears is ripped. I feel like I should be doing sit-ups while I watch this.
So, this is my first crack at a proper music review. In-depth discussion of the nuances of an artist’s latest album has never been a strong suit of mine. Usually my litmus test for “good” music is whether or not it sticks with me, impresses me, or (most importantly) makes me want to dance. But the occasion of Scissor Sisters‘ new release, Night Work, has tempted me to make the attempt.
Scissor Sisters (l to r: Babydaddy, Ana Matronic, Jake Shears, Del Marquis)
First off, I should say that Night Work passes my initial standards with flying colors. The band repeatedly demonstrates their expertise at crafting songs that make you want to move. The best songs on Night Work don’t have a beat; they have a pulse. There’s driving percussion and throbbing electronics; but beyond their natural ability to write a catchy hook, there’s a smart nostalgia to Night Work that sucks you in. Many tracks on the album have a distinctive ’80s sound to them, loaded with synthesizers and dominated by steady bass. This is not a mistake. Scissor Sisters’ front-man Jake Shears has discussed how the impetus for Night Work came from immersing himself in the club scene of Berlin and reminiscing how a similarly vibrant scene in New York evaporated decades ago with the rapid onset of the AIDS crisis. The album is, in a sense, an alternate history; a “what if” had the disco balls at Studio 54 never stopped spinning. It’s a potent mindset to work in, and it clearly allowed the band to go for broke in the creative process.
The best songs on the album, in my opinion, are the radio-friendly “Fire With Fire”, which sounds like a collaboration between Elton John and Coldplay; “Sex and Violence”, with its oddly juxtaposed uptempo beat and regretful lyrics; and “Any Which Way”, which sounds like the results of a giggly jam session between Freddy Mercury and Chic. It’s “Funky Town” with some seriously funky lyrics. It’s ballsy, brazen, and brilliant. There are even, if I’m not mistaken, some auditory allusions to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”.
I’d definitely recommend picking up (or downloading) Night Work, particularly if you’re looking for some good gym or party music. Word is that Scissor Sisters also put on a hell of a show. They’ll be making an appearance in New York on August 24th at Terminal 5. Tickets go on sale July 9.
Below, I’ve embedded the music video for “Fire With Fire”, which was clearly made for mainstream airplay.
Here’s the video for “Kiss You Off” from their sophomore album, Ta-Da!. Much more unique.
Hey, sports fans! How ’bout that US soccer team? Our dauntless squad of sporting pseudo-celebrities continue their unlikely climb up the World Cup bracket, having defeated Algeria yesterday, 1 – 0. This means that the Americans will play Ghana on Saturday, and that for at least three more days, people in the United States will pretend they understand, enjoy, and care about soccer.
I kid, I kid. Some of my best friends are soccer players. I have nothing but respect for the tremendous stresses they put on their bodies, and the relentless effort with which they play. But, come on, let’s face it: when it comes to the World Cup, America has always been the red-headed stepchild of the competition. We’re the people who were so arrogant and xenophobic that we had to make up two entirely new sports (warped and bastardized adaptations of existing games, to be sure) just to keep the world’s most popular and most practical game from taking root here in this, our nation, unique among all others. But once every four years, we kick the doors open to whatever international venue FIFA has chosen and swagger in like we’ve been a part of it since the Aztecs were playing for beating human hearts instead of a garish golden trophy. It’s so shallow, so disingenuous, so…American.
But, seriously, I wish Team USA the best. I mean, it’s hard not to cheer on these guys. Strictly by virtue of being the American soccer team, they’re underdogs. Who doesn’t want to root for the underdog? Plus, when you have squad members like Benny Feilhaber putting videos like the one embedded below on YouTube for the world to see, how could you not want to see them succeed?
Can I just say…honestly, Benny Feilhaber? It’s not enough that you’re good enough at soccer to earn a place on the national squad which competes in the world’s most elite competition, but you have to be humorous and self-effacing as well? Is it really necessary for you to be a better lip-syncher than any contestant on RuPaul’s Drag Race, what with your funny faces and diva gesticulations and punning literal dance moves? Must you have a perfectly shaped dome, a strong and confident chin, rakish facial hair that I’m sure requires little or no maintenance (it just grows in cool that way), pouty lips that frame a dental hygienist’s wet dream, and those steel cobalt eyes that are simultaneously so cold and so warm, so hard and so soft, which slowly and inexorably draw me in, more effective than any state fair hypnotist’s pocket watch could ever hope to be, and delicately yet insistently command me to surrender control to you, Benny Feilhaber? Why must you toy with us mere mortals on this earthly realm, Benny Feilhaber? Do you understand the paradox your very existence suggests? Tell me, Benny Feilhaber, is it fair?
I love searching around on YouTube. You can find some truly amazing stuff. Like this, for example. If this video doesn’t make you want to grab your best friend and sign up for piano lessons, I don’t want to know you.
You don’t often get many chances to revisit your childhood, or rather to have it revisit you. I was lucky enough to have one such experience this weekend. On Saturday night, I saw Rockapella in concert, and I was suddenly in third grade again.
Granted, the members have changed and aged, but they still make that incredible sound. When they closed the show with that most recognizable of theme songs, I cheered loudly from my seat. Oh, Carmen San Diego, what joy you gave me: the interesting geographic trivia, the life-or-death final round, and the sassy Chief, played by the late Lynne Thigpen.
Rockapella today: (l to r) Baldi, Thatcher, Dorian, Brown, and Leonard
For an intermissionless hour and fifteen minutes, the five a capella pros showed off their strengths as individuals and as a group. Vocal percussionist Jeff Thatcher had a few impressive solos. Bass George Baldi indulged his inner soprano, much to everyone’s amusement. John K. Brown used his unusual Cartlon Banks-ish charm to great effect on his Motown solos. New member Scott Dorian made an impression in what was only his second performance with the group. And lead man Scott Leonard still hit those high notes despite having broken his wrist and seven ribs last month when he was putting up Christmas lights. Together, these guys do create a wonderful sound. It’s best served when they sing the boy group standards of the ’50s and ’60s, and while their original work is specifically written to suit their talents, it’s significantly less memorable.
The most memorable thing about the performance were the two thirty-something tourist gals sitting next to us, who couldn’t fit their bags from FAO Schwartz and Bloomingdale’s under their seats, and who wore–and ate–candy necklaces from Dylan’s Candy Bar throughout the performance. Sidelong glances were just as entertaining as what was happening on stage.
I stumbled upon the embedded clip below this weekend, and was eager to share it with everyone. I’m citing it as Exhibit A in two of my most persistent, passionate arguments: first, that history is accessible, fascinating, and cool; second, that Lin-Manuel Miranda is a freakin’ genius. Nothing else need be said. The clip speaks for itself.
One of my favorite singers of late (and by “late”, I mean the past two years) is Mika. His first album, Life in Cartoon Motion, is just awesomely fun. It’s full of up-tempo pop-rock that has a bit of edge and strangeness to make it stand out. It also dares you not to get up and dance along. I clearly have no problem with that.
His second album, We Are Golden, isn’t due until September, but he recently released a music video for the title track, and here it is:
The video’s all right. The song is catchy, but not as good as some tracks off Life in Cartoon Motion. Still, it holds promise for the rest of the album. I’m looking forward to it. Granted, it’s going to be hard to top this…
