This was easily my favourite of the handful of books in the 33 1/3 that I've read. Much like a number of recent books in the series, it's ostensibly about the titular album although it contains almost no information about the making of the album and no new interviews from any of the principals involved. It's about Trent Reznor's role in shaping 90's alternative and mall culture, why his fans are driven to obsession over his music and lyrics, and the Rust Belt towns that serve both as a backdrop to Reznor's upbringing and to characterize the frustration and despair felt by so many of the people who grew up with his music. It was a difficult book to put down, although I frequently had to in order to revisit my own memories or look up further information about the decline of the once mighty northern US manufacturing sector.
Most of the book consists of testimonials with NIN fans, assembled via a series of interviews with people Carr encountered on message boards and friends of friends who still live near to where she grew up in Ohio. The oral history genre is in good hands as long as Carr is holding the reigns. She collected a motley crew of nobodies with fascinating stories to tell, all of them. Each of them live in the Mercer to Cleveland corridor where Reznor grew up and got his start. She features people from broken homes, lapsed fans, young professionals, dreamers who still hope of escaping their dreary communities, and those who have given up and have accepted the reality of spending the rest of their lives in unglamorous small town Ohio.
Their stories elicit sympathy, pride, and pity, sometimes all at once. There are bad endings and happy endings. But their transcend class structure and international boundaries -- their voices are familiar to any formerly teenage NIN fan. I'm not used to reading about NIN in the same way you'd read about idol worship of 60's and 70's music stars from the generation before mine. People my age easily bought into the mythology of the Beatles and the Stones, even if you weren't a huge fan, you still got it, you understood why people drank the Kool-Aid. The spectre of NIN as a hero of the black clad suburban teen of the 90's looms large amongst the kids even further removed from the classic rock era.
I was surprised at the praise heaped on "The Fragile". Many of the subject didn't start listening to NIN until later in the 90's, they were too young to absorb "Pretty Hate Machine" when it was first released. They became obsessed during the long layoff between "The Downward Spiral" and "The Fragile", and the latter was the first NIN album they got to experience firsthand. By the time of "The Fragile", my fandom had run its course, I was sick of the horrible Reznor clones he had inspired and couldn't stand Marilyn Manson or the wave of industrial-rock and horrible nu-metal that had sprung up to carry the torch that Reznor had dropped. I viewed "The Fragile" as the last straw, an act of misguided indulgence by a millionaire drug addict whose forced anger and rage seemed like a quaint relic of what had once been real feelings expressed by a real person. Interestingly, many fans who were ten years younger than me saw it as his masterpiece, "The Wall" for the 90's generation.
"Pretty Hate Machine" came along at the perfect time. Rock stars could still celebrate being rich and famous and untouchable in the 80's. Duran Duran (who were awesome, this is not a knock on them) would make the most glamorous videos imaginable and people lapped it up throughout the Me decade -- yes, yes, more yachts, more beaches, more beautiful models, what's what we want from our musical heroes, that's how they should behave. PHM came along at a time when a critical mass of young fans wanted to listen to music that better represented what was happening in their own lives. For the most part there was no internet, no social media. We obsessed over NIN by listening to the albums countless times, fandom was spoken about in hushed tones among trusted confidants in high school lest the greater populace accused you of being a disturbed freak. Reznor was untouchable in a different way because he seemed like one of us, and yet besides the lyrics and the occasional fantastical rumour (did you hear he's recording an album in the Sharon Tate murder house??), information was scarce and a cult of personality developed to fill the void. Celebrities now are almost too real, they tweet their lives in real time, and appear on countless TV award and reality shows. Social media has sold people on the illusion of getting closer to their idols than any generation ever had before. It's become cool to tweet bikini body pictures from luxurious beaches and to flaunt one's wealth wherever possible. Envy subsides at the relatively low price of giving fans a bit more access. It's cool once again to be a rich music star.
That's what makes the second act of Reznor's career so interesting. Carr explicitly calls for someone to write a comprehensive biography about his post-2004 body of work multiple times in her book. He's gone from being a junkie that time forgot (c. 2003, rock had vanished from the top of the pop charts and NIN couldn't have been any less relevant) to having a successful comeback with NIN, a pioneer of marketing music over the internet, an Oscar-winning composer, and a key player for Beats and Apple Music. He seamlessly became one of the rich, beautiful people and I for one am still not sure how exactly it happened.
Saturday, July 18, 2015
Friday, July 10, 2015
Beach House, "Depression Cherry"
Beach House's new single "Sparks" started streaming this week and when I heard it my jaw nearly hit the floor. Between "Teen Dream" and "Bloom" they'd become a band with a more fully realized, complete sound, moving away from the concept of a duo playing sparse dream pop in their living room and becoming a weightier, Cocteaus-inspired full band. And now, with "Sparks", it seems they'd done it again, adding MBV's head-swirling walls of feedback to add even more awesomeness to a sonic palate that somehow hadn't yet topped out on its awesomeness.
But the full album isn't "Sparks Parts I-IX", and that's undoubtedly a good thing, because no band wants to be tarred with an MBV-lite brush. "Depression Cherry" is a return to the more subdued, inward-looking sound of "Teen Dream", a succession of blissful lullabies recorded with a more expensive bag of production tricks. I've been listening to "Teen Dream" a lot lately, and I'm more than happy to get a more grown-up sounding sequel. The more upbeat and commercial sounding "Bloom" has been bypassed almost completely.
The opener, "Levitation", is a slow burning ballad that builds via gentle repetition like a "Playing With Fire"-era Spacemen 3 track. Whereas "Myth" set the tone for "Bloom" and clearly indicated that the album was going to be something they'd never attempted before, "Levitation" also gives notice that its time to get tucked in and concentrate on the upcoming forty minutes of dream pop minimalism.
"Space Song" is a likely future single, with its insistent rhythms, simple but catchy ascending scale keyboard riff, and wailing guitar solos. The album then hits a more downtempo middle section, much like "Teen Dream" did, but there will be no room-filling "10 Mile Stereo" acceleration to the finish here. "Days of Candy" leads off with a choir and spends several minutes gathering its strength for the swampy, candlelit finish. It's like "Irene" ("Bloom"'s closing track) played at half speed, with all its muscle and arrogance stripped away, leaving only winsome apologies in its place.
"Depression Cherry" is said to be a reaction to the band's increase in popularity, a return to their simpler roots. That's clearly true even from the most cursory first listen. But it also sounds almost nothing like their early albums. "Depression Cherry" might be their most studio-centric album, taking them closer to the Cocteaus' form of precision-refined studio wizardry where reproducing that sound in concert becomes ever more difficult.
But the full album isn't "Sparks Parts I-IX", and that's undoubtedly a good thing, because no band wants to be tarred with an MBV-lite brush. "Depression Cherry" is a return to the more subdued, inward-looking sound of "Teen Dream", a succession of blissful lullabies recorded with a more expensive bag of production tricks. I've been listening to "Teen Dream" a lot lately, and I'm more than happy to get a more grown-up sounding sequel. The more upbeat and commercial sounding "Bloom" has been bypassed almost completely.
The opener, "Levitation", is a slow burning ballad that builds via gentle repetition like a "Playing With Fire"-era Spacemen 3 track. Whereas "Myth" set the tone for "Bloom" and clearly indicated that the album was going to be something they'd never attempted before, "Levitation" also gives notice that its time to get tucked in and concentrate on the upcoming forty minutes of dream pop minimalism.
"Space Song" is a likely future single, with its insistent rhythms, simple but catchy ascending scale keyboard riff, and wailing guitar solos. The album then hits a more downtempo middle section, much like "Teen Dream" did, but there will be no room-filling "10 Mile Stereo" acceleration to the finish here. "Days of Candy" leads off with a choir and spends several minutes gathering its strength for the swampy, candlelit finish. It's like "Irene" ("Bloom"'s closing track) played at half speed, with all its muscle and arrogance stripped away, leaving only winsome apologies in its place.
"Depression Cherry" is said to be a reaction to the band's increase in popularity, a return to their simpler roots. That's clearly true even from the most cursory first listen. But it also sounds almost nothing like their early albums. "Depression Cherry" might be their most studio-centric album, taking them closer to the Cocteaus' form of precision-refined studio wizardry where reproducing that sound in concert becomes ever more difficult.
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Diary of Musical Thoughts Podcast Episode 23
"If you're in the mood to hear mixes available only in heaven" - 132 minutes
The first Shesek tribute was so much fun, I decided to do a sequel.
Things didn't go according to plan, as usual. The sequel turned out to be a rather different animal. Instead of scuzzy rock with a few dance elements, it became a tribute to the dance music I listened to circa 1990. The last mix captured the mood of the bar (at least as I remember it) more accurately, but this mix is a hell of a lot more fun. Old school tunes rub shoulders with newer tracks from the likes of Efdemin and Radio Slave, with some mid-90's Tresor thrown in the middle, and a zonked-out ambient/noise finish.
The first Shesek tribute was so much fun, I decided to do a sequel.
Things didn't go according to plan, as usual. The sequel turned out to be a rather different animal. Instead of scuzzy rock with a few dance elements, it became a tribute to the dance music I listened to circa 1990. The last mix captured the mood of the bar (at least as I remember it) more accurately, but this mix is a hell of a lot more fun. Old school tunes rub shoulders with newer tracks from the likes of Efdemin and Radio Slave, with some mid-90's Tresor thrown in the middle, and a zonked-out ambient/noise finish.
Monday, June 22, 2015
NEU!, "NEU! 4"; Brandon Flowers, "The Desired Effect"
Hardly anybody ever talks about this album (including the surviving core member of Neu, Michael Rother, who disowned it when it was released without his permission) and even fewer have bothered to listen to it. Until a few weeks ago I was one of the large majority of Neu fans who had never heard it. And on the surface, why bother tainting one's impression of the band and their timeless mid-70's album trilogy by subjecting oneself to a dour stuck-in-the-80's palette of spotlessly clean production, horribly dated synthetic slap bass sounds, and sterile guitars mixed so blandly as to contain not a grain of the excitement and danger of rock and roll?
I hate to be that guy, but "Neu! 4" is great, perhaps even the equal of any of the first three Neu albums, all of which are patchy anyhow and tend to be dominated by their standout tracks. As fine as the non-"Hallogallo" tracks are, the first album can't help but be "Hallogallo" plus non-"Hallogallo" support. That's the narrative of the first album, and my opinion hasn't changed from the first time I heard it some twenty years ago, right up until the present.
One might counter with the assertion that "Neu! 4" has only two tracks on it, "Schoene Welle", "Good Life", and several variations on both. One could also say the same about "Neu! 2". But whereas "Neu! 2" was little more than the original tracks played at different speeds in order to fill out the second side of the album, "Neu! 4" twists a few basic melodies into fascinating variations. "Wave Naturelle" re-imagines "Schoene Welle" as a mid-tempo ballad in the style of U2's, "With Or Without You", actually predating the mood of the Lanois/Eno transformation of U2 by a year. "Quick Wave Machinelle" cranks up the soaring, glittery synths and with its propulsive, insistent beat, gradually blossoms into a cheerier version of Joy Division's "Isolation". "Crazy" is "Good Life" by Neu by way of the Feelies, a fascinating combination that is sadly not explored further on this album. Elsewhere, "Nationale" and "Fly Dutch II" are a couple of wonderfully moody ambient pieces that could have fit comfortably onto any Neu album. It's only with "Danzing" and "La Bomba" that the album strays into more pedestrian dance funk mode and kowtows to 80's trends that now come off as dated.
-------------------------
I admit to being skeptical that a Brandon Flowers solo album had any reason to exist. I assumed it would be a Killers album in all but its name, much like his first solo record. But how wrong I was ... far from coming off as a lesser version of the Killers' anthemic brand of rock, this is Flowers' love letter to a side of the 80's that most artists haven't bothered ripping off. Whereas most 80's throwbacks are about Duran Duran's sense of glamour (and their spidery basslines) and synths shaped like guitars, Flowers' heroes are Don Henley circa "Boys of Summer", Bruce Hornsby and the Range, and Huey Lewis and the News. With "I Can Change", he even managed to pull off the best of the 58923 "Smalltown Boy" sample/homages I've yet heard. It may never reach the dizzying heights of the Killers' best songs, but it's a consistently great effort that manages to be cool by daring to be uncool.
I hate to be that guy, but "Neu! 4" is great, perhaps even the equal of any of the first three Neu albums, all of which are patchy anyhow and tend to be dominated by their standout tracks. As fine as the non-"Hallogallo" tracks are, the first album can't help but be "Hallogallo" plus non-"Hallogallo" support. That's the narrative of the first album, and my opinion hasn't changed from the first time I heard it some twenty years ago, right up until the present.
One might counter with the assertion that "Neu! 4" has only two tracks on it, "Schoene Welle", "Good Life", and several variations on both. One could also say the same about "Neu! 2". But whereas "Neu! 2" was little more than the original tracks played at different speeds in order to fill out the second side of the album, "Neu! 4" twists a few basic melodies into fascinating variations. "Wave Naturelle" re-imagines "Schoene Welle" as a mid-tempo ballad in the style of U2's, "With Or Without You", actually predating the mood of the Lanois/Eno transformation of U2 by a year. "Quick Wave Machinelle" cranks up the soaring, glittery synths and with its propulsive, insistent beat, gradually blossoms into a cheerier version of Joy Division's "Isolation". "Crazy" is "Good Life" by Neu by way of the Feelies, a fascinating combination that is sadly not explored further on this album. Elsewhere, "Nationale" and "Fly Dutch II" are a couple of wonderfully moody ambient pieces that could have fit comfortably onto any Neu album. It's only with "Danzing" and "La Bomba" that the album strays into more pedestrian dance funk mode and kowtows to 80's trends that now come off as dated.
-------------------------
I admit to being skeptical that a Brandon Flowers solo album had any reason to exist. I assumed it would be a Killers album in all but its name, much like his first solo record. But how wrong I was ... far from coming off as a lesser version of the Killers' anthemic brand of rock, this is Flowers' love letter to a side of the 80's that most artists haven't bothered ripping off. Whereas most 80's throwbacks are about Duran Duran's sense of glamour (and their spidery basslines) and synths shaped like guitars, Flowers' heroes are Don Henley circa "Boys of Summer", Bruce Hornsby and the Range, and Huey Lewis and the News. With "I Can Change", he even managed to pull off the best of the 58923 "Smalltown Boy" sample/homages I've yet heard. It may never reach the dizzying heights of the Killers' best songs, but it's a consistently great effort that manages to be cool by daring to be uncool.
Sunday, June 14, 2015
One more time with feeling: thoughts on Mogwai at 20
This article is generating some interesting discussion, where its detractors are accusing the author of backhandedly flinging mud at the band when it's supposed to be an article that celebrates their longevity, while the people who don't care/stopped caring about Mogwai a decade ago don't get the fuss because Pitchfork has long since locked the band into the critical friend zone where their albums seem to merit a steady stream of 7.1's regardless of quality or level of praise in the review.
For me, the problem boils down to the following two points:
1) I find it somewhat disingenuous on the part of PF to accuse Mogwai of stubbornly sticking to an unpopular genre when they are the type of website that can have an impact on which microscenes get popular and stay popular. They're not a small site that can do nothing but sit back and churn out clickbait about some massively popular cultural phenomenon as it evolves in a manner too complex to be controlled by anyone. Music genres can be cool if PF says they are cool.
2) Twenty years of cultural relevance is an unrealistic goal for any band. No band can be at the vanguard of a chic genre for that amount of time -- neither the band or the genre will retain its pedigree over such a long period of time. By the early 80's, the Rolling Stones were well past their culturally relevant peak, and even the most diehard classic rock fans wouldn't say they were still making their most impactful music. It's simply not a standard that any band can be held to.
In techno, I'm reminded of techno acts like Adam X (and his various monikers) or Chris Liebing, who stuck with hard techno during the years that it was cruelly unpopular, only to come out the other side and get hailed as saviours again when everything came full circle and that style became popular again. Some might say they were being stubborn by not changing with the times when everyone and their brother went minimal or electro or schaffel. But the glass half full viewpoint would say they were dedicated to their craft and wouldn't compromise. That would be a far more interesting angle for an article about 20 years of Mogwai. Unfortunately, in most rock-based criticism, the writers are too locked into a simple model where a band is lumped into a scene with a bunch of other like-minded bands for easy classification purposes, and loses their relevance when that scene is no longer the hot new thing. At that point, their window of opportunity for making canonical records has passed so they are rarely spoken of again, except by die hard fans who are anyway too distracted by their own homerism to be taken too seriously.
For me, the problem boils down to the following two points:
1) I find it somewhat disingenuous on the part of PF to accuse Mogwai of stubbornly sticking to an unpopular genre when they are the type of website that can have an impact on which microscenes get popular and stay popular. They're not a small site that can do nothing but sit back and churn out clickbait about some massively popular cultural phenomenon as it evolves in a manner too complex to be controlled by anyone. Music genres can be cool if PF says they are cool.
2) Twenty years of cultural relevance is an unrealistic goal for any band. No band can be at the vanguard of a chic genre for that amount of time -- neither the band or the genre will retain its pedigree over such a long period of time. By the early 80's, the Rolling Stones were well past their culturally relevant peak, and even the most diehard classic rock fans wouldn't say they were still making their most impactful music. It's simply not a standard that any band can be held to.
In techno, I'm reminded of techno acts like Adam X (and his various monikers) or Chris Liebing, who stuck with hard techno during the years that it was cruelly unpopular, only to come out the other side and get hailed as saviours again when everything came full circle and that style became popular again. Some might say they were being stubborn by not changing with the times when everyone and their brother went minimal or electro or schaffel. But the glass half full viewpoint would say they were dedicated to their craft and wouldn't compromise. That would be a far more interesting angle for an article about 20 years of Mogwai. Unfortunately, in most rock-based criticism, the writers are too locked into a simple model where a band is lumped into a scene with a bunch of other like-minded bands for easy classification purposes, and loses their relevance when that scene is no longer the hot new thing. At that point, their window of opportunity for making canonical records has passed so they are rarely spoken of again, except by die hard fans who are anyway too distracted by their own homerism to be taken too seriously.
Saturday, May 16, 2015
The End of Idol
This is being treated like a big deal and deservedly so. "American Idol" is arguably the most successful show in the history of television. It was #1 in the ratings for seven straight years, a record. It won in its timeslot for over five consecutive years, a streak that was finally broken by a nightly broadcast of the 2010 Winter Olympics. It wouldn't be knocked out of the catbird seat in its time slot by a regularly scheduled show until "Big Bang Theory" managed the feat the year after. No other reality show can come close to this record of success, and few scripted shows can come close in terms of viewership and cultural impact.
And that's just the purely TV aspect of it. "Idol" launched probably two dozen genuinely notable music careers (and Jennifer Hudson's Oscar-winning acting career). Not "notable" as in, one or two minor radio hits either, but actual superstardom by anyone's definition. Carrie Underwood and Chris Daughtry were the biggest selling album artists in all of music in separate calendar years.
Maura Johnston summarized the show's triumphs and its slow decline for The Concourse, and I don't think anyone would disagree that the seeds for its demise were set by the trend of boring white guys with guitars winning over several deserving women and more maverick male talents. Tween girls were drawn to the cute hearthrobs who had charisma but couldn't really sing, the teens and twentysomethings supported the oddballs (or voted for The Worst), and the housewives swooned for the boring white dudes. But like in any election, political or otherwise, approval ratings break that false equivalency. White guys with guitars drew some measure of support from across the age spectrum, but the oddballs could only garner votes from their key demographic, anyone in the younger or older demo didn't really understand them at all. That's why Lee DeWyze and Kris Allen could fly under the radar under the very end of the season and then crush the competition once it was down to the final three.
Maura repeats the tired meme that Season Five's Taylor Hicks helped to break the show because his style was so out of sync with contemporary pop music. Season Five was the highest rated in the show's history. The top six was arguably the most talented final group they ever had. If Hicks was killing the show, there sure were a lot of people happily tuning in to watch him kill it. That's precisely the point that I found missing in most analyses -- what makes for good TV isn't the same as what is marketable in terms of music sales. Taylor Hicks was enormously entertaining and led a great cast of finalist, half of whom went on to rack up impressive album sales on their own. For different reasons, people tuned in to Season Six to watch Sanjaya Malakar survive until the top seven, and to see Jordin Sparks and Blake Lewis (the most polar opposite final pairing that AI ever had) fight for the crown. It was AI's second most successful season in terms of viewership, so Taylor Hicks' supposed destruction of the show must have been a very slow kill indeed.
The relationship between the voting results and contemporary pop music trends was always complex. For every Kelly Clarkson or Jordin Sparks, i.e. singers in the right time and place to merge smoothly into the pop landscape, there were five other R&B divas who were desperately pushed into the spotlight by AI judges and producers only to get rejected by the voters. Clay Aiken fit nobody's mold of a contemporary pop star when he auditioned, but until Kelly Clarkson's re-breakthrough album "Breakaway", he was the biggest selling AI alumni in the then five-year history of the program. Blake Lewis nearly won Season Six years before EDM became a thing. Plenty of other contestants were praised for their uniqueness and never caught on with voters.
Like many others, I'll be tempted to watch the final season after basically giving up circa Season 10.
And that's just the purely TV aspect of it. "Idol" launched probably two dozen genuinely notable music careers (and Jennifer Hudson's Oscar-winning acting career). Not "notable" as in, one or two minor radio hits either, but actual superstardom by anyone's definition. Carrie Underwood and Chris Daughtry were the biggest selling album artists in all of music in separate calendar years.
Maura Johnston summarized the show's triumphs and its slow decline for The Concourse, and I don't think anyone would disagree that the seeds for its demise were set by the trend of boring white guys with guitars winning over several deserving women and more maverick male talents. Tween girls were drawn to the cute hearthrobs who had charisma but couldn't really sing, the teens and twentysomethings supported the oddballs (or voted for The Worst), and the housewives swooned for the boring white dudes. But like in any election, political or otherwise, approval ratings break that false equivalency. White guys with guitars drew some measure of support from across the age spectrum, but the oddballs could only garner votes from their key demographic, anyone in the younger or older demo didn't really understand them at all. That's why Lee DeWyze and Kris Allen could fly under the radar under the very end of the season and then crush the competition once it was down to the final three.
Maura repeats the tired meme that Season Five's Taylor Hicks helped to break the show because his style was so out of sync with contemporary pop music. Season Five was the highest rated in the show's history. The top six was arguably the most talented final group they ever had. If Hicks was killing the show, there sure were a lot of people happily tuning in to watch him kill it. That's precisely the point that I found missing in most analyses -- what makes for good TV isn't the same as what is marketable in terms of music sales. Taylor Hicks was enormously entertaining and led a great cast of finalist, half of whom went on to rack up impressive album sales on their own. For different reasons, people tuned in to Season Six to watch Sanjaya Malakar survive until the top seven, and to see Jordin Sparks and Blake Lewis (the most polar opposite final pairing that AI ever had) fight for the crown. It was AI's second most successful season in terms of viewership, so Taylor Hicks' supposed destruction of the show must have been a very slow kill indeed.
The relationship between the voting results and contemporary pop music trends was always complex. For every Kelly Clarkson or Jordin Sparks, i.e. singers in the right time and place to merge smoothly into the pop landscape, there were five other R&B divas who were desperately pushed into the spotlight by AI judges and producers only to get rejected by the voters. Clay Aiken fit nobody's mold of a contemporary pop star when he auditioned, but until Kelly Clarkson's re-breakthrough album "Breakaway", he was the biggest selling AI alumni in the then five-year history of the program. Blake Lewis nearly won Season Six years before EDM became a thing. Plenty of other contestants were praised for their uniqueness and never caught on with voters.
Like many others, I'll be tempted to watch the final season after basically giving up circa Season 10.
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
MUTEK revisited (VI)
The next edition of MUTEK begins in two weeks in Montreal. It turns out I will be in Toronto and gave some thought to getting on the train and catching two or three days of the festival. I have no doubt it'll be an excellent festival as always but there's nothing I'm really dying to see this year. Maybe next year. I'm still kicking myself for missing the 2009 festival, which was pretty much my dream lineup (along with 2003) and might never be duplicated.
However, we can still celebrate past editions of the festival by revisiting more classic live performances from past years. This is the sixth in a series of posts that began six years ago. These recordings resurfaced recently and once again, I haven't heard either of them since the original performances in 2010 and 2003.
10. The Caretaker (A/Visions 2, 2010)
You can listen to the set here. My original comments (and a photo) are posted here. At the time I wrote "The Caretaker presented a slide show of his drink and debauchery exploits in Berlin while drinking a bottle of whiskey and doing very little else."
That comment comes off as dismissive and cynical, but that's just due to the format of the review for that year (which was a photo essay more than an in depth review). In truth, it was one of the more unique performances I've seen to this day. There was nothing "live" about it, because Kirby literally did nothing except prance around the stage with a bottle of whiskey while the video played on the screen behind him. Considered as a piece of performance art coupled with a screening of a short film with the director in attendance, it was indelibly etched into my memory. The experience of immersing myself in the world of the Caretaker continued well into the next year, as "An Empty Bliss Beyond This World" was one of my favourite albums of 2011.
Obviously the audio recording can't capture the full experience of seeing this in a theatre against a backdrop of a perpetually hungover Berlin while the artist himself stalks the stage looking every bit the casualty victim of the scenes depicted on the big screen. But the recording on its own is still incredibly powerful. It builds you up by violently shaking you to attention at its noisy start, and throws you to the floor in a depressive funk in its solemn middle portion. The noise returns at the end and a distorted voice warbles through "The Way We Were" and what has been learned from all this? Drinking is bad for you? Not really, because the piece never shows any regrets. Live in the moment? Not exactly, because who can find even a speck of glamour in any of this? This music is as confounding as the day I first heard it.
11. Narod Niki (Finale, 2003)
The legendary final performance of the best MUTEK I ever attended. A forty five minute excerpt of their set can be heard here, and was linked via MUTEK's website. After years of circulation as a bootleg (audio for the entire festival was available for streaming over the internet that year), they claimed it is the first ever "official" release of the recording. The full set lasted over two hours, and can be heard here.
At the time I was awed by the star power on stage and by the sheer amount of gear they'd dragged up there. I was also exhausted by watching nearly forty three hours of live music over five days and nights. The description I gave remains accurate though: "From the names involved, I'm sure you can guess what it sounds like. If you've never heard of any of these guys, I can't imagine that you'd have read this far. Otherwise, you'll be able to imagine what each guy is likely to equally contribute to a group effort such as this."
Narod Niki performed together only a handful of times. They deserve their reputation for one simple reason -- it was the best collection of techno performers ever gathered together on one stage. But at the same time, any fan of the artists involved didn't really have to be there to imagine what they were like. If you know their music, you know what this was like, especially if I tell you that Villalobos looked to be the conductor of the orchestra. The two hour performance is what you need to hear, because you need to hear the intro, appreciate the buildup, and imagine the anticipation as they filed on stage. Once they were all out there, the drama was essentially over, the purpose of the performance completely fulfilled. The music continued until the lights were turned on and the authorities finally shooed all artists and fans out of the building. The recording will make for some pleasant background music at your local bar for twentysomething singles, or for your next get together with friends who like to groove. It offers few hints about the singular collection of talent that was involved in creating it.
However, we can still celebrate past editions of the festival by revisiting more classic live performances from past years. This is the sixth in a series of posts that began six years ago. These recordings resurfaced recently and once again, I haven't heard either of them since the original performances in 2010 and 2003.
10. The Caretaker (A/Visions 2, 2010)
You can listen to the set here. My original comments (and a photo) are posted here. At the time I wrote "The Caretaker presented a slide show of his drink and debauchery exploits in Berlin while drinking a bottle of whiskey and doing very little else."
That comment comes off as dismissive and cynical, but that's just due to the format of the review for that year (which was a photo essay more than an in depth review). In truth, it was one of the more unique performances I've seen to this day. There was nothing "live" about it, because Kirby literally did nothing except prance around the stage with a bottle of whiskey while the video played on the screen behind him. Considered as a piece of performance art coupled with a screening of a short film with the director in attendance, it was indelibly etched into my memory. The experience of immersing myself in the world of the Caretaker continued well into the next year, as "An Empty Bliss Beyond This World" was one of my favourite albums of 2011.
Obviously the audio recording can't capture the full experience of seeing this in a theatre against a backdrop of a perpetually hungover Berlin while the artist himself stalks the stage looking every bit the casualty victim of the scenes depicted on the big screen. But the recording on its own is still incredibly powerful. It builds you up by violently shaking you to attention at its noisy start, and throws you to the floor in a depressive funk in its solemn middle portion. The noise returns at the end and a distorted voice warbles through "The Way We Were" and what has been learned from all this? Drinking is bad for you? Not really, because the piece never shows any regrets. Live in the moment? Not exactly, because who can find even a speck of glamour in any of this? This music is as confounding as the day I first heard it.
11. Narod Niki (Finale, 2003)
The legendary final performance of the best MUTEK I ever attended. A forty five minute excerpt of their set can be heard here, and was linked via MUTEK's website. After years of circulation as a bootleg (audio for the entire festival was available for streaming over the internet that year), they claimed it is the first ever "official" release of the recording. The full set lasted over two hours, and can be heard here.
At the time I was awed by the star power on stage and by the sheer amount of gear they'd dragged up there. I was also exhausted by watching nearly forty three hours of live music over five days and nights. The description I gave remains accurate though: "From the names involved, I'm sure you can guess what it sounds like. If you've never heard of any of these guys, I can't imagine that you'd have read this far. Otherwise, you'll be able to imagine what each guy is likely to equally contribute to a group effort such as this."
Narod Niki performed together only a handful of times. They deserve their reputation for one simple reason -- it was the best collection of techno performers ever gathered together on one stage. But at the same time, any fan of the artists involved didn't really have to be there to imagine what they were like. If you know their music, you know what this was like, especially if I tell you that Villalobos looked to be the conductor of the orchestra. The two hour performance is what you need to hear, because you need to hear the intro, appreciate the buildup, and imagine the anticipation as they filed on stage. Once they were all out there, the drama was essentially over, the purpose of the performance completely fulfilled. The music continued until the lights were turned on and the authorities finally shooed all artists and fans out of the building. The recording will make for some pleasant background music at your local bar for twentysomething singles, or for your next get together with friends who like to groove. It offers few hints about the singular collection of talent that was involved in creating it.
Saturday, May 09, 2015
Fleetwood Mac, "Destiny Rules"
Kurt Cobain is back in the headlines, following the release of the documentary "Montage of Heck". It's been touted as the most personal and revealing portrait yet of the former Nirvana frontman, and I know I'm not the only one who reacted to the hype with a fair bit of suspicion. Nirvana are one of the most dissected bands ever, so much like the release of something from the bottomless pit of Beatles recordings, my first reaction was "how can there be anything left"? There have already been a few Nirvana documentaries and concert DVD's, a box set, and the publication of Cobain's private journals. Don't we know everything already? When is it finally enough?
Brian Ives considers that very question in this commentary about "Montage of Heck" and a few other, extremely personal documentaries about other rock legends. I still haven't seen the Cobain doc, but Ives' article informed me about a rarely seen Fleetwood Mac film, "Destiny Rules", about the making of their album "Say You Will" and the preparations for their massive world tour.
The second half of the film is fairly standard backstage pass type stuff, as we see the band putting the finishing touches on the album and jamming in preparation for their tour. The meaty stuff happens in the first half of the film. Buckingham shows up to the studio with a plateful of songs, Nicks turns up with her songs (and a mood-setting decorative statue/scarf holder), McVie and Fleetwood sit around looking bored while mentally calculated the money they're earning (or losing) with every passing day, and it might as well be the 1970's all over again. Buckingham is determined to stick to his vision of an ambitious double CD, thinking only about the art and completely oblivious to the concept of what may or may not sell in 2003. Stevie Nicks also sees dollar signs floating in front of her eyes while listening to the playback of their shimmery pop rock demos, instantly recognizable as the sound of classic Fleetwood Mac. Buckingham insists its all about the art, and if the art is good, the album will sell records based on the name value alone. If it sells only half a million copies, then he's fine with that as long as his creativity isn't compromised, except nobody else in the band thinks that he truly believes that. Nicks is marginally more realistic, believing that if they can cobble together their catchiest twelve new songs, then kids in their teens and twenties will buy their album. Nobody seems to have any concept of the realistic ceiling for this album. From 2000-2004, pretty much the only rock bands to make a dent in the singles pop charts were Creed and Nickelback.
In the end, they did probably reach the absolute ceiling for "Say You Will". Buckingham came to his senses and agreed to a single CD (albeit a bloated, 18-track, 75-minute single CD). Near the end of the film, he speaks to the camera and explains that the added costs of releasing the double CD would necessitate a much longer tour (and/or future tours) to recoup the costs, something that nobody in the band is ready to commit to just yet. With a new house to pay for and a family to feed, he can't take that chance. Of course, the idea that they could recoup costs by selling more records is no longer considered. By this point, they've understood that it's not 1977 or 1982 or 1987 and their brand of music isn't going to enter heavy rotation on the radio or MTV. The tour was a huge success and did lead to a number of follow up tours that continue to this day. The follow up album to "Say You Will" never materialized. 2002-3 was just about the latest year that a record company would consider letting a band record that might (if they're lucky) sell a million CD's, record their album in the matter they'd been accustomed to, with months of studio time, rented Hollywood mansion, and so on. Fleetwood Mac post-2003 know where their bread is buttered, and after seeing "Destiny Rules", it's easy to see why they're not rushing to go through the stress of recording again together.
The documentary I really want to see is a definitive look at the Buckingham-Nicks relationship. Ives writes about a nearly unbearable tension between them as they agree to disagree over the recording and mixing of various parts of the album. I always see something different whenever I see them on film or on stage together. I see a pair with a deep connection that often transcends words, an ex-couple that are completely over each other but inexorably drift back together to make their best music, often with each other as the lyrical subjects of their most inspirational songs even thirty years later. Moments before they take the stage for the first concert in support of "Say You Will", they clasp hands and stare at each other intensely. There's a glint of fear and nervousness in Nicks' eyes, which is a bit surprising for someone who has played countless gigs in large arenas, but also a sense of comfort in knowing that Buckingham is there and between the two of them, they'll get through this gig with flying colours just like they always have in the past. You see the same look of admiration and respect when they sing a duet together on stage. They're two conjoined souls completely in awe of each other's talent, and I don't think anyone other than the two of them really comes close to understanding it.
Brian Ives considers that very question in this commentary about "Montage of Heck" and a few other, extremely personal documentaries about other rock legends. I still haven't seen the Cobain doc, but Ives' article informed me about a rarely seen Fleetwood Mac film, "Destiny Rules", about the making of their album "Say You Will" and the preparations for their massive world tour.
The second half of the film is fairly standard backstage pass type stuff, as we see the band putting the finishing touches on the album and jamming in preparation for their tour. The meaty stuff happens in the first half of the film. Buckingham shows up to the studio with a plateful of songs, Nicks turns up with her songs (and a mood-setting decorative statue/scarf holder), McVie and Fleetwood sit around looking bored while mentally calculated the money they're earning (or losing) with every passing day, and it might as well be the 1970's all over again. Buckingham is determined to stick to his vision of an ambitious double CD, thinking only about the art and completely oblivious to the concept of what may or may not sell in 2003. Stevie Nicks also sees dollar signs floating in front of her eyes while listening to the playback of their shimmery pop rock demos, instantly recognizable as the sound of classic Fleetwood Mac. Buckingham insists its all about the art, and if the art is good, the album will sell records based on the name value alone. If it sells only half a million copies, then he's fine with that as long as his creativity isn't compromised, except nobody else in the band thinks that he truly believes that. Nicks is marginally more realistic, believing that if they can cobble together their catchiest twelve new songs, then kids in their teens and twenties will buy their album. Nobody seems to have any concept of the realistic ceiling for this album. From 2000-2004, pretty much the only rock bands to make a dent in the singles pop charts were Creed and Nickelback.
In the end, they did probably reach the absolute ceiling for "Say You Will". Buckingham came to his senses and agreed to a single CD (albeit a bloated, 18-track, 75-minute single CD). Near the end of the film, he speaks to the camera and explains that the added costs of releasing the double CD would necessitate a much longer tour (and/or future tours) to recoup the costs, something that nobody in the band is ready to commit to just yet. With a new house to pay for and a family to feed, he can't take that chance. Of course, the idea that they could recoup costs by selling more records is no longer considered. By this point, they've understood that it's not 1977 or 1982 or 1987 and their brand of music isn't going to enter heavy rotation on the radio or MTV. The tour was a huge success and did lead to a number of follow up tours that continue to this day. The follow up album to "Say You Will" never materialized. 2002-3 was just about the latest year that a record company would consider letting a band record that might (if they're lucky) sell a million CD's, record their album in the matter they'd been accustomed to, with months of studio time, rented Hollywood mansion, and so on. Fleetwood Mac post-2003 know where their bread is buttered, and after seeing "Destiny Rules", it's easy to see why they're not rushing to go through the stress of recording again together.
The documentary I really want to see is a definitive look at the Buckingham-Nicks relationship. Ives writes about a nearly unbearable tension between them as they agree to disagree over the recording and mixing of various parts of the album. I always see something different whenever I see them on film or on stage together. I see a pair with a deep connection that often transcends words, an ex-couple that are completely over each other but inexorably drift back together to make their best music, often with each other as the lyrical subjects of their most inspirational songs even thirty years later. Moments before they take the stage for the first concert in support of "Say You Will", they clasp hands and stare at each other intensely. There's a glint of fear and nervousness in Nicks' eyes, which is a bit surprising for someone who has played countless gigs in large arenas, but also a sense of comfort in knowing that Buckingham is there and between the two of them, they'll get through this gig with flying colours just like they always have in the past. You see the same look of admiration and respect when they sing a duet together on stage. They're two conjoined souls completely in awe of each other's talent, and I don't think anyone other than the two of them really comes close to understanding it.
Sunday, May 03, 2015
Robbie Williams live at Park Hayarkon,T.A.
These "first time in Israel!" shows sometimes backfire. It happened at this somewhat infamous stadium show six years ago, and it happened last night with Robbie Williams in Ganne Yehoshua park. Casual fans get drawn in by the blanket advertising and curiosity factor, show up to the concert, and wait to be entertained. I went to far too many shows in Toronto in small venues where half the crowd thought they were too cool to wander more than a three metre distance from the bar. It's a much more frustrating scene when you multiply it by one hundred and let people loose in a large grassy field.
I arrived too late to hear Ninet Tayeb's set, save for a few songs I heard from outside the park while on my way in. A huge crowd of about 40 000 strong were ready for Robbie Williams to finally hit the stage after months of hype. They were ready to record their favourite bits and post them on the internet as soon as possible. Being there -- and having proof of the fact -- was arguably more important that being familiar with most of Robbie Williams' biggest hits and showing up ready to enjoy oneself.
The focus of his current tour, which ended last night, was to bring his show to a number of relatively out of the way places that are off the regular touring track for many artists (UAE, Slovakia, Latvia). His sets were chock full of his most memorable hits, with virtually no glaring omissions, and if those weren't enough hits for getting your money's worth, they were also chock full of covers of megahits by Queen ("Bohemian Rhapsody"), Lorde ("Royals"), R. Kelly (a slick barbershop quintet version of "Ignition (Remix)" and a handful of others. He has more than enough original material to fill up a two hour set, but he includes the covers presumably because it encourages more audience participation, and what better way to fulfill his Freddie Mercury fantasies than by stealing straight from the source?
Yes, the Robbie Williams Revue tries to deliver something for everyone. As great as it was, and as powerful a performer as Williams is, perhaps it wasn't the best idea in the world to watch his 2003 Knebworth DVD the night before, because he couldn't possibly live up to the standard, and neither could the Tel Aviv crowd. But that's OK, because it's nearly an impossible standard to live up to. The most amazing thing about those Knebworth shows is that they're nearly all about him. His band is great, of course, they're admirable performers. But there are an unfathomably small amount of bells and whistles included in the show (dancers, outlandish video screens, costume changes) that are standard issue for nearly any other artist trying to entertain such a large crowd. The crowd are locked with precision onto the songs and locked onto him -- transfixed by every word he says, and every move he makes. Those concerts are completely driven by Williams' mercurial (no pun intended) strength as a performer. Robbie in 2015 puts together a slick, professional band that executes the game plan perfectly. Robbie in 2003 seemed to be making it all up as he went along. His band would reign him in and help keep the show on the rails. Seeing how he hardly rehearsed for those Knebworth shows, this was quite a formidable task.
In transitioning from pop star to band leader, something inevitably got lost in translation. My favourite parts of the concert were therefore the looser, more laid back moments where Williams showed off the songs and his connection to them, rather than trying to overdeliver a showcase for the ages. "Strong" turned into a wonderfully spontaneous singalong, and "Come Undone" was stripped of its full-on maximalism to become something less confrontational and more contemplative. "Feel" was simply gorgeous, just Robbie belting out the song while standing almost completely still with his hands raised in the air, while dozens of rays of soft green laser light slowly swept through the night air, in time with nothing in particular. Duetting with his tuxedo clad father Peter on "Better Man" was another fantastically personal moment, a style clash that made total sense to anyone who has followed Robbie through his various musical guises.
It really was an amazing show, the set list was even filled with a few surprises that typically weren't part of other shows on the tour ("She's the One" played in full, "Strong"). It was missing a killer crowd to take it into the stratosphere, and Williams himself even said as much in a chat with fans on his website following the show. If anyone knows how to read a crowd, and to fairly criticize its involvement, it's him.
Saturday, May 02, 2015
Self-indulgence
Mine:
I never get tired of reading "best record shops" articles, usually accompanied by photos to whet the record shopping appetite. FWIW, I've only visited five of these (two in Vienna, two in Berlin, one in Milan). For whatever reason, the Parisian shops are the most stylish and best organized of the bunch.
Yours:
This has been linked everywhere over the past week, but Clickhole's "oral history" of Radiohead's "OK Computer" is genius. I think that the best parodies are written by the biggest fans, but since I'm not a Radiohead fan, I can't really gauge whether their fans are horrified by this article or are laughing along with it (not that I really care ... screw you, Radiohead fans!)
This is the most quotable music article I've read in years, so picking a favourite bit is just about impossible, but for now I'll go with this one: "'OK Computer' was an important album because it opened the door to more music about computers doing things, like playing guitars. Now, there are albums about computers riding bicycles, boxing each other, and drinking coffee. This was inconceivable before 'OK Computer'".
Theirs:
I think Maroon 5's "Sugar" may be the most self-indulgent music video I've ever seen, and that covers a LOT of ground -- "November Rain", "Justify My Love", "Trapped In the Closet", "Bound 2", everything Michael Jackson released in the 90's, and way too many more to mention. But all those other songs (well, except for "Bound 2") have one simple thing in common. They're great songs, and great videos. Almost by definition, an artist has to be legitimately great to reach the level of popularity (with fans and with the record labels who are paying for these music videos) where they're afforded to possibility of being so self indulgent. Each of these acts were several years into superstardom when these videos were made as well. These videos are special because they represent something entirely different from the kinds of videos those artists would normally do up to that point in their careers. Their longevity and consistent success at the highest levels of the industry had made just about all of their videos iconic. That's why it was so notable when they switched gears and made their self-indulgent hot mess. When a relative newcomer tries it, it often comes across like a publicity stunt, a plea for attention, or in the post-2005 world, desperation clickbait (hello, "Wrecking Ball").
Maroon 5's success has always baffled me. In 2004, I would have bet huge money them being a one hit wonder on the back of "This Love", the token alternative MOR minor radio hit of the 00's, or roughly what Fastball's "The Way" was to the late 90's. Barring that, I couldn't possibly envision their ceiling being higher than The Black Crowes, with two songs (one uptempo, one ballad) becoming radio staples off their breakthrough album, followed by a slow slide into chart irrelevance albeit with a healthy career as a touring band until they decided to finally call it quite a decade and a half later. And yet here they are, five albums into their career, and a pop radio phenomenon. You can argue that it wouldn't have happened without Adam Levine serving as a judge on "The Voice", but that kind of exposure from the "American Idol" franchise didn't save Jennifer Lopez's career (barring one fluky hit single featuring Pitbull).
Their spectacular record of success aside, Maroon 5 have made a career out of releasing a steady train of unmotivating and unmotivated bland pop pleasantries, slick enough to nicely mesh into whatever pop radio is playing at the time, but without showing the tiniest spark of inspiration or giddy creativity to suggest that they care one bit about anything other than maximizing their brand potential. They are to 10's rock what 50 Cent was to 00's hip-hop. Unlike the other examples of beautiful self-indulgence I mentioned, "Sugar" is an awful song, and the video is nauseating.
The video is predicated on the idea that a surprise appearance by Maroon 5 at a wedding would be the most exciting thing to happen in the lives of every bride and groom in the country. The video then proceeds to show this premonition coming true over and over again. Whether the video was staged or not is besides the point. If it was "real" then we know there was plenty of prompting by anxious producers involved in getting the necessary shots for the video (everybody knows how "reality" shows work these days). And if it was staged, well, fuck everyone involved for staging it and giving interviews trying to pass it off as real. The interviews read like your standard reality show script -- great idea, what if they don't like us? (dramatic pause for commercial), on our way to the wedding, hey! crisis! what will happen, (commercial break), everything turned out all right, everybody loves Maroon 5. Buy the album! Personally I think it was staged, just look at the lighting and the sheer number of camera angles, and the exaggerated reactions of the wedding guests, the instant mass rush for the dancefloor for a supposed surprise. Not to mention that anyone who's spent more than five minutes driving in LA knows that it's not plausible that they could have had the time to crash so many weddings in one day, unless LA couples aren't like couples in most other western countries and don't all get married in roughly the same two or three hour window in the evenings.
I never get tired of reading "best record shops" articles, usually accompanied by photos to whet the record shopping appetite. FWIW, I've only visited five of these (two in Vienna, two in Berlin, one in Milan). For whatever reason, the Parisian shops are the most stylish and best organized of the bunch.
Yours:
This has been linked everywhere over the past week, but Clickhole's "oral history" of Radiohead's "OK Computer" is genius. I think that the best parodies are written by the biggest fans, but since I'm not a Radiohead fan, I can't really gauge whether their fans are horrified by this article or are laughing along with it (not that I really care ... screw you, Radiohead fans!)
This is the most quotable music article I've read in years, so picking a favourite bit is just about impossible, but for now I'll go with this one: "'OK Computer' was an important album because it opened the door to more music about computers doing things, like playing guitars. Now, there are albums about computers riding bicycles, boxing each other, and drinking coffee. This was inconceivable before 'OK Computer'".
Theirs:
I think Maroon 5's "Sugar" may be the most self-indulgent music video I've ever seen, and that covers a LOT of ground -- "November Rain", "Justify My Love", "Trapped In the Closet", "Bound 2", everything Michael Jackson released in the 90's, and way too many more to mention. But all those other songs (well, except for "Bound 2") have one simple thing in common. They're great songs, and great videos. Almost by definition, an artist has to be legitimately great to reach the level of popularity (with fans and with the record labels who are paying for these music videos) where they're afforded to possibility of being so self indulgent. Each of these acts were several years into superstardom when these videos were made as well. These videos are special because they represent something entirely different from the kinds of videos those artists would normally do up to that point in their careers. Their longevity and consistent success at the highest levels of the industry had made just about all of their videos iconic. That's why it was so notable when they switched gears and made their self-indulgent hot mess. When a relative newcomer tries it, it often comes across like a publicity stunt, a plea for attention, or in the post-2005 world, desperation clickbait (hello, "Wrecking Ball").
Maroon 5's success has always baffled me. In 2004, I would have bet huge money them being a one hit wonder on the back of "This Love", the token alternative MOR minor radio hit of the 00's, or roughly what Fastball's "The Way" was to the late 90's. Barring that, I couldn't possibly envision their ceiling being higher than The Black Crowes, with two songs (one uptempo, one ballad) becoming radio staples off their breakthrough album, followed by a slow slide into chart irrelevance albeit with a healthy career as a touring band until they decided to finally call it quite a decade and a half later. And yet here they are, five albums into their career, and a pop radio phenomenon. You can argue that it wouldn't have happened without Adam Levine serving as a judge on "The Voice", but that kind of exposure from the "American Idol" franchise didn't save Jennifer Lopez's career (barring one fluky hit single featuring Pitbull).
Their spectacular record of success aside, Maroon 5 have made a career out of releasing a steady train of unmotivating and unmotivated bland pop pleasantries, slick enough to nicely mesh into whatever pop radio is playing at the time, but without showing the tiniest spark of inspiration or giddy creativity to suggest that they care one bit about anything other than maximizing their brand potential. They are to 10's rock what 50 Cent was to 00's hip-hop. Unlike the other examples of beautiful self-indulgence I mentioned, "Sugar" is an awful song, and the video is nauseating.
The video is predicated on the idea that a surprise appearance by Maroon 5 at a wedding would be the most exciting thing to happen in the lives of every bride and groom in the country. The video then proceeds to show this premonition coming true over and over again. Whether the video was staged or not is besides the point. If it was "real" then we know there was plenty of prompting by anxious producers involved in getting the necessary shots for the video (everybody knows how "reality" shows work these days). And if it was staged, well, fuck everyone involved for staging it and giving interviews trying to pass it off as real. The interviews read like your standard reality show script -- great idea, what if they don't like us? (dramatic pause for commercial), on our way to the wedding, hey! crisis! what will happen, (commercial break), everything turned out all right, everybody loves Maroon 5. Buy the album! Personally I think it was staged, just look at the lighting and the sheer number of camera angles, and the exaggerated reactions of the wedding guests, the instant mass rush for the dancefloor for a supposed surprise. Not to mention that anyone who's spent more than five minutes driving in LA knows that it's not plausible that they could have had the time to crash so many weddings in one day, unless LA couples aren't like couples in most other western countries and don't all get married in roughly the same two or three hour window in the evenings.
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