R.E.M. - Fables Of The Reconstruction (25th Anniversary 2-Disc Re-Issue)

EMI/Capitol Records

Call it what you will: alternative rock, guitar pop, college radio. For better or worse, R.E.M. were responsible for making it—and making it big. Even a casual listener knows when they hear an R.E.M. song. Theirs has always been a definitive sound: Bill Berry's frenetic drums, Peter Buck's jangly guitar, those literate stream-of-consciousness lyrics, and, of course, Michael Stipe's vulnerable voice, leaping from plaintive wail to cooing croon to murmur (pun intended), often within the same song.

They started out weird. Pretty, sure, but still weird. Then they got famous and became dogmatic, showing up at award shows with serious faces and message t-shirts. R.E.M. relinquished their indie status long ago, leaving behind I.R.S. Records and signing with Warner Brothers in the late '80s. They're now a renowned cornerstone of contemporary American music. R.E.M. was inducted in the Rock N' Roll Hall Of Fame in 2007, and the 1981 song “Radio Free Europe” was recently added to the Library of Congress's National Recording Registry.

Yet just before super-stardom and the soapbox, there was Fables Of The Reconstruction. R.E.M. originally released Fables Of The Reconstruction in June of 1985. Today, it's back—as a 25th anniversary 2-CD re-issue. R.E.M.'s first two albums, Murmur and Reckoning, have both already received the deluxe treatment. Fables Of The Reconstruction is another shining example of R.E.M.'s early-career aesthetic.

The Athens Demos, included as the second disc on the re-issue, stand on their own as excellent alternates to the (now classic) originals. There's precious little variation from demo to album version, yet still just enough difference to be noticeable. They show a band, confident as a collective, fine-tuning these already well-honed songs. Stand-outs include “Can't Get There From Here,” which felt much more playful than the original; “Green Grow The Rushes,” with demo vocals that sounded warmer and more intimate; “Driver 8,” which, although a little off-key and possessing more prominent background vocals, was still charming.

Of the thirteen tracks on The Athens Demos, three were not on the original release. Two of them, “Bandwagon” and “Hyena,” went on to be released on other albums; “Bandwagon” was also a bonus track on the import version of Fables Of The Reconstruction. Then there's “Throw Those Trolls Away,” the much-hyped previously unreleased track that, sadly, is completely forgettable and altogether expendable. It's also worth noting that the songs on the second disc are both out of album sequence (not that odd), and curiously, listed in alphabetical order.

Over the last several years, re-releases have become standard among bands of R.E.M.'s status; deluxe edition re-releases are to today what box sets were to the '90s. Listeners are granted greater access to a band's oeuvre. Plus, if they're die-hard fans and/or music snobs, they're also granted a sense of collection completion—not to mention bragging rights.

Review by M. Brianna Stallings

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - Mojo

Reprise Records

Think of the word mojo in the classic sense (energy and zest for life) before Jim Morrison distorted it, and it's really the best adjective to describe this album. Having listened to Tom Petty—with and sans the Heartbreakers—since high school, I have to agree with fellow fans that the guy just doesn't make bad music.

Like many an artist going through major life changes—divorce, having a child grow into an adult, a new marriage—music tends to be worn on his sleeve. While his releases have varied a great deal in the past fifteen years or so—contrast the mellowness of his solo album Wildflowers with the sad, longing lyrics of the tracks from She's The One (a soundtrack from an Ed Burns movie), to the pissed-off rants on The Last DJ—it's been a long time since he's put out songs with any real, well, mojo. Needless to say, this listener is glad he has it back. The lyrics seem to come from one who has loved, lost, toughened up, and loved again.

Not one of the fifteen tracks on Mojo disappoints. Some, like “Jefferson Jericho Blues,” “I Should Have Known It,” and guitar-heavy “Running Man's Bible,” have echoes of classics like “American Girl” and “Refugee,” but don't sound the least bit recycled. Likewise, there are lyrics in songs like “The Trip to Pirate's Cove” that have the trademark Tom Petty trait of nearly making sense, but then failing to (think “Mary Jane's Last Dance”). I don't normally care for rock artists attempting reggae, but even the track “Don't Pull Me Over,” with its slightly sad riffs, is done in good taste. And no Tom Petty album could be complete without honest, slightly tear-jerking songs about love and longing, and “No Reason to Cry” and “Lover's Touch,” while musically quite different, fit that bill.

In sum, don't download it song by song. Longtime fans will want this album in its entirety.

Review by M.L. Madison

Hole – Nobody's Daughter

Mercury Records

It can often be shocking to step back from one's own life and think in terms of how much of your time has been devoted to a particular thing. For instance, I have been writing since I was seven years old. That means that at this point, I have spent over seventy-five percent of my life with pen and paper in hand. Similarly, I have been a steadfast Hole fan for sixteen years. It is a little jarring to realize that I have loved (and continue to listen to) a band that long; the fact that Courtney Love has survived long enough for me to claim active fan status of both she and her group makes it that much more amazing.

You know how you can talk all the trash you want about your own mother when you're mad at her for something, but the minute one of your friends agrees with your tirade and chimes in with, “Yeah man, your mom's a PAIN!,” you immediately go into “defend Mom's honor” mode? That's how I feel about Courtney Love. Watching her erratic behavior over the years, it has admittedly been hard at times to call myself a fan. Yet the second someone slags off on her, my fangs come out. Don't step to me with that tired Courtney shit-talking, 'cause I ain't tryin' to hear it. I'll even go full-on Chris Crocker on your ass: leave Courtney alone.

A blind man could see the Sturm und Drang of this woman's life. I'm not stupid. I know what a mess she has been. During those lost coke-addicted years in the early aughts when Love was flashing David Letterman and being hauled off to Bellevue handcuffed to a gurney, I would Google her name at least once a week—just to make sure she was still alive. I often prayed under my breath that she would, to quote Hole's 1994 classic, live through this. She did.

Nobody's Daughter, the first album Love has released with Hole (well, this version of Hole) in a dozen years, is the proof. As ever, Love has come out on the other side of Hell, guitars a-blazing. Hole has been performing the first album single, the vicious “Skinny Little Bitch,” on every late-night chat show on which Love is still allowed to appear. All eleven songs are similarly acerbic, self-aware, and chock full of the kind of melodramatic language one expects from Love's songwriting: anguish, misery, sorrow, terror, filth, destruction, surrender.

The title track takes us into a world where family is a farce and salvation is a pipe dream. “Loser Dust” and “How Dirty Girls Get Clean” most openly address Love's struggles with cocaine, a substance that nearly destroyed her life and which Love once infamously characterized in an interview with “Access Hollywood” as “really evil coffee.” “Pacific Coast Highway” opens with the same guitar notes as “Boys On The Radio” from their last studio album, 1998's Celebrity Skin. They sound so similar that, in fact, “PCH” could be seen as something of a sequel to or continuation of “BOTR.” “Someone Else's Bed,” “Letter To God,” and “Never Go Hungry Again” are visceral poignant ballads.

One possible album cover leaked during the album's rough-cut days was an altered image from a series of photos taken by French fashion designer Hedi Slimane. It's a side shot of Love smoking, tinted dark blue with the cigarette's cherry highlighted red, in an homage to the album cover from Marianne Faithfull's critically acclaimed 1979 comeback album Broken English. Although not the final cover choice, it's still both an appropriate and telling image. Like Faithfull, Love (never one for false modesty, hence her willingness to compare herself to an artist of Faithfull's caliber) had been away from music for some time before returning with this collection of world-weary songs painting a beleaguered but still fiercely resilient artist back in the game for another round.

Review by M. Brianna Stallings

When You're Strange: A Film About The Doors

Directed by Tom DiCillo
Wolf Films/Strange Pictures



When You’re Strange is director Tom DiCillo’s loving yet flawed homage to The Doors. The film is comprised almost entirely of original footage of the band, shot between 1966 and 1971. It follows members John Densmore, Robby Krieger, Ray Manzarek, and Jim Morrison from their first performance to heated recording sessions, and ultimately, to Morrison’s tragic death at the age of 27. When You’re Strange survives on the momentum of the bands’ energetic presence and explosive sound. Footage of live performances prove entrancing, with Morrison’s unpredictable behavior and chaotic energy filling the stage.

The film portrays the band as the voice of a generation—musical innovators voicing the anxiety and hope of the 1960s youth movement. DiCillo places the personal narrative of The Doors against the national narrative of the United States, illustrating how The Doors’ music fed off of the violence of Vietnam, the hope of the Civil Rights movement, and the anxiety of a nation at war. DiCillo is perhaps too enamored with the idea of Morrison as a tragic hero, as the narration refers to Morrison as a “shaman” with a poet’s soul “trapped between heaven and hell.”

Unfortunately, the frenetic pace of the original footage is undercut by the stilted narration, provided by Johnny Depp. Even Depp’s thoughtful reading cannot surmount the series of bland factual statements and flowery metaphors that comprise the script. Throughout the film, the band (particularly Morrison himself) is visually and aurally described in relation to fire and flames—an obvious and groan-inducing reference to The Doors hit “Light My Fire.” These aural metaphors are reinforced by the image of an extinguishing flame.

Ultimately, When You’re Strange is an enjoyable and reverential examination of The Doors that accurately presents the zeitgeist of the time. The film sustains itself on the vibrancy and charisma of the original footage, which keeps the film from sinking under the weight of its fragmented narration. Doors fans will enjoy it for its rare glimpses into the band’s history, but the film itself lacks the verve of its subject.

Review by Joanna Chlebus

April Smith and the Great Picture Show – Songs for a Sinking Ship

Little Roscoe

Not many people have heard of April Smith, but I’ve become quite the enthusiastic fan. Her music combines elements of pop and rock, but her voice has more of a jazz quality that gives the end result a great mix and unique style. I loved her previous album, loveletterbombs, and I saw Smith perform live a couple of times, so when I heard she was raising money for a new album through Kickstarter, I signed right up to contribute. But then she posted the track listing for Songs for a Sinking Ship, and I already knew half the songs. Needless to say, I felt a bit let down. Sure, some were from her live EP, and I expected them to show up again, but one went as far back as her 2005 album!

I kept an open mind and eagerly hit play when I finally got my copy. Halfway through the album I was already swallowing all of my doubtful words. From the first song, “Movie Loves a Screen” (my favorite of the new tracks), the energy and style wakes you up and makes you pay attention. She sustains this throughout the album, even on the slower tracks that draw you in with her emotional words. The pleasant surprise was that tracks I already knew were mostly different, better versions of what I’ve heard before. By the time I got to the last track, I was sorry the album was finished and immediately started listening to it all over again.

What really impressed me was the song “The One That Got Away.” This ballad from loveletterbombs was one of the songs that made me a fan in the first place. The song has gotten a complete makeover for this album, and now I can’t decide which version is my favorite. The tempo is sped up, the minimal instrumentation is replaced with a carnival feel, and what once sounded like a brokenhearted plea now sounds like an embrace of her circumstances. I have complete confidence that if she re-released a new version of loveletterbombs, I’d pre-order that too.

For people who aren’t already fans, it’s hard to listen to April Smith without finding a song that piques your interest and makes you curious to hear more. But even somebody who already owns her other albums won’t feel let down by spending the money to get this one. This is one of the best albums I’ve heard in a long time, and I can hardly wait for the next one.

Review by frau sally benz