Kid A

I was planning on doing this huge retrospective review on Radiohead's Kid A ten years after its release, but I missed it. Kid A is now ten years and eleven days old. It's still the most ambitious, unbelievable, multilayered, creative, and well executed album I've ever heard.

So there you go.

The Ever Prolific Mr. Stevens

Ever since the release of Illinoise and the claimed 50 states project, EVERYONE has talked about how prolific Sufjan Stevens is. And why not? Illinoise's tracklist peaked at an incredible 22. Add to that a collection of tracks that didn't make it onto the final cut and you have a staggering sum of 43 tracks for one project. Funny, though, since he's so prolific, he hasn't released a proper album since Illinoise five years ago. We had the Outtakes collection (The Avalanche), a box set of his 5 annual Christmas EPs (the most recent of which was released in 2006), the orchestral ode to the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway (The BQE), and a revisit to his pre-Michigan instrumental album "Enjoy Your Rabbit," arranged for orchestra and relabeled "Run Rabbit Run" -- note that the last two were released in 2009, three years after any other release. What has Sufjan been doing all this time, besides living his dream of succeeded Aaron Copeland as the Great American Composer and leaking a new song via YouTube bootlegs here and there?

Sufjan answered in early September with the release of an unannounced digital EP attached with a post-it that said "p.s. Full length coming in October." So here we are, October 13, with two albums on our hands--the folksy/chamberpopish, hour long "EP" All Delighted People, and the glitch/electronica/orchestral/psychedelic schyzophrenia that is "The Age of Adz." It becomes clear upon listening to both that in his spare time (which he's had five years of), Sufjan has had a musical redirection, claiming a new vision and a sea full of ambition and bravery to make that happen, and, ever self-aware as he is, knew how a personally disparaging album filled with hip-hop landscapes, mountains of synthesizers, and guitar freakouts might disappoint anyone waiting for a spiritual sequel for the narrative driven folk and pop of Illinoise. And so, nice guy that he is, Mr. Stevens offered us All Delighted People, a collection of tracks balancing his more 'classic Sufjan' tracks with hints of the atmospheric, apocalyptic monster that would follow.

Individually, each has different strengths and weaknesses. All Delighted People has the sorts of songs we've come to expect from him and finally puts to record some of the songs he's teased fans with live (such as "The Owl and the Tanager," featuring Annie Clark of St. Vincent!). On the other hand, though, it's sometimes hard to stave off the feeling that the entire EP is just another collection of non-album songs to make fans happy. The Age of Adz, chaotic as it is, is impeccably arranged. Each explosion of the orchestra, each note of the freakout guitar, each swear word (those with visions of Sufjan the Superchristian might want to avoid "I want to Be Well" with its repeated refrain of "I'm not f***ing around, I'm not, I'm not"), each glitchy beat of the drum machine is deliberate. As schizophrenic and upside-down as the album seems, this is an album crafted by someone who knew what the crap he was doing.

For a good example, look to the 25 minute closer "Impossible Soul" and watch as it goes from electric piano led verse (complete with a an almost constant drum fill and chaotic guitar solo interlude) to a single female voice singing over a trumpet section fighting with a flailing synthesizer being slowly joined by more and more voices and a drum machine until it all collapses over three minutes into a wash of delay feedback and electric piano accompanying Sufjan's autotuned voice, which in turn leads into an 80s dance throwback with gang vocals. And if that's not enough, after that dance party slowly dies down (the vocoder is the last to leave), another drum machine kicks up with another orchestra fighting for its life as Sufjan and a few low voices repeat the coda until, again, that all collapses, and we are left with Sufjan, the man, and his folk-style, finger picked guitar, long absent and his whispering tenor at last relaxed after an album of hollering over chaos.

Basically, this album is great, but it's weird. So here go the recommendations. If you want another Seven Swans, All Delighted People is for you. For the more adventurous, grab The Age of Adz and give it the kind of listen it deserves. Over and over again.

The Dreaded Hurley

Weezer is my favorite band. Whenever I say that, I have to postscript it by clarifying that I mean their first two albums. I've mentioned that I found Green and Maladroit moderately enjoyable, but have found just about everything else unremarkable and, sometimes, even abysmal (Beverly Hills...). This is why when I heard about their release of an eighth record--and so quickly on the heels of the embarrassment of Raditude--I was skeptical.

Then, something strange happened. They prereleased the first track, "Memories." Out of curiosity, I decided to check it out, expecting something equally as inane as "I'm Your Daddy" or "Can't Stop Partying." But I loved it. It was well crafted and evocative and tasteful, and it made me feel like I was in high school again. So of course, when the record was released, I gave the entire thing a listen, and I was not disappointed.

After "Memories," "Ruling Me" is a superfun powerpop song similar in spirit to the better tracks on Green--only better than anything on Green--complete with the background Oohs and Aahs that made us love Weezer in the first place, and classic Riversisms, like "My ocular nerves went pop-zoom." The album continues with the beautiful ode to slackerism "Trainwrecks," which sounds like a lost single from the early era with synth runs and ambient feedback squeals thrown in for good measure, which get me every time.

As the record progresses, the songs sound less like throwbacks and more like a new, more acceptable Weezer--especially the track "Smart Girls," an ode to Rivers' favorite quality in a woman that's starts off with a cheesy drum machine and synth solo. It's also one of my favorite tracks on the record.

It's important to note that this record doesn't sound like the missing album between Pinkerton and Green. Weezer has, somehow, matured through the string of less-than-good records and come up with a way to mix the qualities that made them so likable in the first place with new ambitions and production strategies--an orchestra finds its way in at several points, and the traditional guitar solo for every song is largely missing, which some may find disappointing.

Personally, I never thought Weezer would release and album I would love again, and I was mistaken. It's not Pinkerton, but it's more than good enough for me.