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Courtney Barnett – Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit by Paco “Cougar” Alvarez
There are only so many ways to say that Courtney Barnett is awesome. and there are only so many words I can include in this review so I’ll let this sentence suffice: She’s fucking awesome, and if you haven’t listened to Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit, please do yourself a favor, go online, and play it on repeat for about three weeks straight because that’s the only way you can have any real appreciation for this great, great album. Okay, now that I got that out of the way, onto the actual music part. If you haven’t heard A Sea of Split Peas (an EP released in 2013), Barnett’s style can be best described as mundane feel rock. That is, she can make the most boring things on the planet, like tending a garden or staring at a wall or moving to a dumb suburb, into huge fucking feel fests where you’re pretending to play left-handed guitar instead of doing homework (not based on a true story). She doesn’t just stick to one style to cut through your feelings either. She will have you crying, whether it’s through super catchy, loud, distortion filled guitars or relatively quiet, folksier ballads. Listen to “Pedestrian At Best” and “Depreston,” both singles off this album, and you’ll see how two very different songs can come from one very awesome lady. Also, can I talk about her lyrics for a second? They’re 100% the high point of this already high-point-filled album: “I stare at the lawn; it’s Wednesday morning / It needs a cut, but I leave it growing / All different sizes and all shades of green / Slashing it down just seems kind of mean.” Like, c’mon that’s fucking genius. In conclusion, listen to this album because it’s definitely one of the best of the year so far, and it will have you begging to see Courtney in concert before she gets too famous and tickets stop being weirdly cheap.
Modest Mouse – Strangers to Ourselves by Sam Watson You guys, I think Isaac Brock is getting old. Modest Mouse is a storied band. Since their debut in the ’90s, they’ve evolved from a too-weird-to-beknown indie band from Issaquah, WA to a chart topping alt rock act. One thing that’s always impressed me about Modest Mouse is that even their slickly produced pop hits (“Float On,” “Dashboard,” etc., etc.) seem to hold true in some small way to their early garage-style recordings. Maybe it’s Isaac’s manic vocals, maybe it’s his unique talent on the guitar. Maybe it’s his lisp. I don’t know. But man, this album… it’s just hard to hear that original spark that hooked me on Modest Mouse as a kid. Don’t get me wrong, there are some solid tracks. “Lampshades On Fire,” “The Ground Walks, with Time in a Box,” and “The Best Room” are thumpy, danceable numbers that characterize the poppiness of Modest Mouse’s more recent albums. Those are fun. “Sugar Boats” is frenetic and makes you want to jerk around in a pretty good way. In this reviewer’s opinion, “God is an Indian and You’re an Asshole” is by far the best track on the album, and sounds like it could be straight off of The Lonesome Crowded West (1997). Unfortunately, there are some real stinkers. “Pistol (A. Cunanan, Miami, FL. 1996)” is a bizarre aberration that I can only assume is some attempt to stay experimental and relevant. It involves a drum machine, some type of…rapping? and some cringe inducing faux gangster lyrics. Not only does it not sound like Modest Mouse, it is straight up bad. “Coyotes,” although more conventional, is nearly as lousy. The lyrics don’t even rhyme, which I could easily forgive if they weren’t also uninspired and overly sentimental. The real problem with Strangers to Ourselves though is that most tracks are simply forgettable. They’re not bad, but they lack the originality and timelessness that most fans have come to expect from Modest Mouse. The album is slow paced and tragically conventional. There’s no edge. It makes sense, I guess, this album. It’s that stage in the band’s career. Most of the original members are gone. Modest Mouse is no longer fashionable, their days of pop hits are done. Isaack Brock is slowing down. He is old and kinda fat. His music reflects that. What can you do? At least the album art is good. 2
