Make a Joyful Noise

Almost Better than Being There

The long and the short of it…

First the short: Set List by The Frames is one of the best damn live albums ever released. Buy it today, enjoy it for a lifetime.

Now the long…

Offered as consumer product, live recordings can create a great deal of controversy among audiophiles. Outside of Live at Budokan, which established Cheap Trick as the preeminent purveyors of power-pop in the ‘70s, most rock enthusiasts decry the live document as extraneous, often poorly executed, stop-gap, or just redundant. I am on the opposite side of the divide, where if it says “in concert” somewhere on the packaging, it’s going through the scanner. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I can’t get out to shows like I used to, but I love me a live CD. I even bought that MTV Unplugged set by Dashboard Confessional, who I don’t really care for. On it, all you hear are teenagers screaming the lyrics to every song… and I still like it!

Don’t get me wrong, there are live records out there that are just dripping in suck. Usually poor mixing, suspect musicianship, and nakedly horrific vocals (Ashlee Simpson, are you reading this?) are at the root of bad live records. Other times, a band is so rehearsed that the recording just sounds like the studio tracks with some crowd noise added for flavor. Either way, these are not reason enough to deride concert recordings as an entire genre. Each album must be critiqued on its own merits, just as a studio recording might be.

Quickly, here is a disorganized list of live recordings that in ways, even surpass the studio stuff that accompanied them:

• Blue Rodeo :: Just Like a Vacation (2xCD!)
• Lyle Lovett :: Live in Texas
• Wilco :: Kicking Television
• Guster :: Guster on Ice
• AC/DC :: Live
• David Byrne :: Live at Union Chapel (DVD)
• Dave Brubeck :: Together Again for the First Time (I know –it’s jazz)
• Neil Finn :: 7 Worlds Collide
• Bruce Springsteen :: Live in New York
• Crowded House :: Live (bonus disc from Recurring Dream)
• Black Flag :: Who’s got the 10½?
• …and I am waiting impatiently for a live document of the late Joe Strummer and his Mescaleros

I’m leaving out a bunch, but each title in this list serves as a worthy example of how a live disc can build on an artist’s repertoire by showcasing unique interpretations of well-worn material. Live discs frequently also offer brilliant covers of other artist’s songs; inspired storytelling; electrifying solos; the zest of additional instrumentation; and, sometimes, the audience as a featured part of the performance. In short, the best live discs are anything but redundant.

Saving the best for last, I left one truly out of this world live record off the list. Released stateside in 2003, Set List by The Frames, is in a league all its own. Put to tape (hard disk?) during a series of intimate Dublin shows in November 2002, this CD so perfectly captures the energy and raw emotion of those late fall nights that the band may have a hard time surpassing it.

For the uninitiated, The Frames are a well-established Irish band that fall just behind U2 in their popularity at home. Led by Glen Hansard, who named the band after the bicycle skeletons that used to litter the yard of his boyhood home, the band has put out a respectable catalog over the last fifteen years. To describe their music, one might employ terms such as ‘Celtic’ or ‘Folky,’ but the truth is they are closer to a meat and potatoes alt-rock band. The majesty of their music lies in Hansard’s slightly ragged voice and the band’s loose but electric chemistry. The differentiation factor -a fiddle- adds a warmth to many of their songs that might otherwise make them less memorable.

The Frames’ studio output ranges from rustic to rockin’ and one or two CDs approach four-star territory, but the others are more hit-or-miss. Their well-polished studio releases are just lacking a certain vigor that has probably kept them from a larger U.S. audience. All this is why Set List is so revelatory. In the concert setting, The Frames open up and connect with their fans like few bands do (the previously mentioned Dashboard show comes to mind).

To describe Set List song by song would be a waste of words, even though each track stands on its own merits. The disc is more about the live experience (in aggregate) rather than specific moments. From the brushburned riffs of the opening track “Revelate,” through the rollercoaster ups and downs ("Lay Me Down"(download and enjoy), "What Happens When...," "Your Face") to album closer, "The Blood," Set List is an experience as close to live as comes in a jewel case. Taking every song and transforming it into an audience participation exercise, the band play loose and add unexpected turns to their more well-known material (during "Lay Me Down," the band veers into a Johnny Cash standard and back again without missing a beat).

The Frames transmit real emotion in their performance and demonstrate a tangible connection with the audience. From the contemplative "Star Star" to the explosive "Stars are Underground," the listener can feel the excitement rushing from the stage through the crowd. When I sat down to write this post, I had a pocket full of words to describe Set List, but as I sit here and listen to it again, they evade me. The set is just that powerful. Perhaps that is its most alluring quality.

I recommend it for anyone who likes music for more than just notes and execution. Its for those who seek the indescribable and the intangibly tangible.

Studio Masterpiece

Not to Be Played Before 11 P.M.

Few, if any album length recordings can be listened to comfortably at any time of day (or day of the week for that matter). Imagine listening to Back in Black while you poured your 7 AM coffee or throwing on Kind of Blue before a night on the town. Yeah, it would make perfect sense to some people, but for most, the musical content vs. real-life context would be jarring. There are 'morning records', there are 'afternoon records,' and there are 'evening records'. There are also double duty records like Born to Run, which covers the ground from mid-afternoon to roughly midnight (on a weekend) or, say, anything by Timo Maas which shouldn't hit the speakers until at least 2 AM (in a club) but could be used for a drive-time pick-me-up.

Of course, you might be in a late-evening frame of mind (meditative?) when its 3:30 in the afternoon. In this case you should, by all means, throw on a late-evening record. There's no law against it, but your co-workers might worry about you. In this writer's mind, there has been no late-evening record over the last 20 years that has been better conceived or produced than Hats (1989) by The Blue Nile. In fact, I would venture to say that Hats is a studio masterpiece and one that sounds surprisingly fresh sixteen years later.

Essentially a one-man band (Paul Buchanan) complimented by permanent session players (Robert Bell, Paul Joseph Moore), the Blue Nile are not well known outside of Great Britain. It is there, though, that their respectable fan base has come to know them as studio perfectionists. To be a fan you must be very patient, as they have released only four records over the last 20+ years. Each one is a reward from beginning to end, though, as songwriting, solid musicianship, pristine production, and beautifully fractured vocals converge. There is no other band quite like The Blue Nile.

On Hats, the band's second release after Walk Across the Rooftops (1984), Buchanan creates a song cycle that perfectly captures the romance of after hours city life. In a mere seven songs and in under forty minutes, the nighttime urban landscape comes vividly to life. From taxi-cabs and commuter trains to restaurants and cozy bistros where couples share their own private universe, Hats paints a vision of the city that only exists in the halcyon moments of a young romance. Like a winter recollection of a summer afternoon, the world Hats paints is idyllic and nearly unattainable in reality, but perfectly realized on five inches of plastic.

The record opens with a whisper on "Over the Hillside." Slowly, as a processed snare clicks to life, synths and an economic rhythm guitar emerge to the fore. Before a moment passes, Paul Buchanan's voice enters and the first-time listener is most likely taken aback. Buchanan possesses a somehow perfectly imperfect delivery. As he sings, it is difficult to tell if he is even in tune half the time, but this is how Hats achieves such a human quality despite the use of so much studio wizardry.

"Over the Hillside" sets the tone for the record but not the meter. Track two, "The Downtown Lights," skips to midtempo and adds lush instrumentation that builds to fantastic crescendo, as Buchanan professes his adoration for the city. Next comes "Let's Go Out Tonight" which, like no other song I can recall, captures the enchantment of courtship (and life before children).

"Headlights on the Parade" marks the emotional peak of Hats. With a more organic piano melody layered over synths and a pulsing rhythm section, this is the closest thing to a single on the record (I believe it was one in England). This far into Hats, it becomes apparent how Buchanan's voice is mixed perfectly, track after track, within the immaculate production.

After two more beautifully realized tracks, Hats closes with "Saturday Night," which again captures what all us city-folk remember or envision life to be when we look backward or forward. paul's world, unfortunately is never in the present ('right now' just can't live up to the hype). Still, within or outside the context of the song, few lyrics are as honest and in the moment as, "She'll love me all the way... It's Saturday Night."

While the last few paragraphs were spent describing the songs on Hats, I am led back to where I started: expressing how perfectly this recording, as a whole, suits late-evening listening. While decidedly romantic and ideal for when one is in the company ofanother, it is also surprising how well solitude is served by Buchanan's opus to the city and to love. As noted, the world he sings about is difficult to reach, unless you have your headphones on.

Throwing Words Into the Void

Grabbing a handful of new tracks from iTunes can be a sublime experience. In the space of an hour, one can sample, download, and burn a disc’s worth of ear candy without an ounce of filler. It was the first legal service on the block and it is still the best. Granted, it’s not the preeminent place for those of us who like to find new independent artists (I use eMusic and random blogs for that), but it saves me a ton of $$ on what I would otherwise be forced to spend on untested full-length releases.

I have never worked at a record store so I haven’t had the benefit of scamming free promo discs. Still, there are over 3,000 releases racked in my living room (much to the wife’s dismay), so my love for downloaded singles might seem somewhat misplaced. I’m an album guy. But, the truth is, there aren’t a ton of artists out there who are putting out complete sets of music in our time. The ‘Oughts’ are the new Fifties in the sense that the single is the dominant art form within the music industry.

There is nothing wrong with the single. When done well, it can do in three and a half minutes what many artists can not achieve with a lifetime of output. But, while the single is important, the full length release is more the modern equivalent to a classical movement. With euphoric peaks and melancholic valleys, an exceptional record can take the listener on a head trip like nothing else. Music is one of the most personal experiences someone can share with an artist and even the most famous recordings are markedly different for each person who hears them.

Which brings me to what Desert(ed) Island is all about: recordings that, regardless of how they were received when they were released, have held up and deliver an absolutely transporting experience (to me). For every CD I regard as a timeless classic, probably 90% of the population feels otherwise. I like to think of myself as a man of reasonable taste, though, so I am optimistic that a few will be enlightened by my choices.

There is little point in going on and on without using an example to illustrate the value of an album, so read on, if you feel inclined (it would be a shame if I was just doing what the title of this post says).