April 04, 2008 - CAMP Sound

LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth

CAMP Sound

Sound of Silver begins with what seems to be a remix of a previous LCD tune, "Losing My Edge." Instead of copying that song's amusing ramblings, this quickly veers off into pretentious ersatz Bowie territory. James Murphy's voice sounds soulless and didactic as he instructs the listener to "Get Innocuous." The dance groove is slightly addictive, but in the end you are led nowhere and are no better off from where you started.

Half of this album follows this trendwhere layers of synthesizers and treated beats build and coalesce to create something quirky or peculiarly fun, but nothing more. In Sound of Silver Murphy invokes Kraftwerk, though I'll still take The Man Machine over this. "Us v. Them" makes for mediocre gym treadmill music, ditto for "Watch the Tapes."

However, these sound exercises do serve as the perfect springboard for Murphy's perky rants, just as they did on 2005's eponymous album. One of the big differences in his performance now is fewer hipster rants and raves and more disciplined songwriting: Murphy reportedly dropped the spontaneous lyrics in the studio for a more traditional approach. It's apparent in the finished product. There is less stuffy-nosed punk and more heart and soul as evidenced with tracks like "Someone Great," "All My Friends" and "New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down."

His lyrics can still be just as biting and fun ("North American Scum") or as stupid ("Sound of Silver") as anything from 2005. Though, the best songs here are those with a sense of purpose, which, incidentally all share the theme of loss. "Someone Great" with its somber tone, sensitive lyrics and delicate glockenspiel strongly convey that indeed, "someone great has gone."

"All My Friends," (which I suggest be a mid-life crisis anthem) is dedicated to the idea that after the passing of time, work, travel, self-exploration, and children, you're left pining for the cronies of young adulthood. The best part is that the singer is left with no regrets. All of this plays out in seven and a half minutes over one quickly executed staccato piano chord, with no changes, just intensifying cymbals, drums and guitar that rise with the singer's emotion. It is the most endearing song he has yet to record. "New York I Love You..." serves as a closing eulogy to the grimier, more dangerous city of yesteryear and offers a satisfactory conclusion to a mildly fulfilling album.

Spoon Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga Merge Rating: B+

This Texas quartet's sixth record is a tad more exciting than their last, 2005's Gimme Fiction. I immediately tagged Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga as a near classic; I almost bought the hype. I was dazzled by its five brightest tracks and forgave the other five for not catching my ear. There are some noteworthy touches to the lesser tracks: "My Little Japanese Cigarette Case" has a koto solo, which is nice, but not essential; "Finer Feelings" has a vague 90's indieretro appeal (is there really such a thingor more importantly, should there ever be such a thing?) and that's about it.

The scintillating tracks lure the listener in purely by their sound alone. "Don't Make Me A Target" is a sharp sounding attack complete with a virulent static guitar solo. It sounds very much like Jon Brion, who doesn't appear on the track, but ironically produces and plays on "The Underdog" which sounds partially like the Everly Brothers on steroids. "The Ghost of You Lingers" is pure art rock dominated by haunting vocals and tense, repetitive keyboards. One can't deny the Motown shake of "You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb" or the infectious groove of "Don't You Evah."

LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 18, No. 03 April 04, 2008