The Hold Steady's Boys and Girls in America

Maybe because Craig Finn is older than his characters, he's ready to agree to the assertion that boys and girls in America are having a sad time together. There's less Catholicism this time, but just as much drugs and booze as before, both as buffers and backdrops to the relationships described on the record. They've lessened the 80's indie guitar sound from Separation Sunday for a more traditional rock'n'roll crunch, plus a more prominent piano in addition to occasional balladery. The songs vary from the highs, in both senses of the word ("Massive Nights"), to the lows, and the difficulties between boys and the girls:

"How am I supposed to know that you're high if you want let me touch you" ("Chips Ahoy").

Finn's girls are often both shifty, unreliable, and restless ("You Can Make Him Like You"), and they may be damn good dancers, but not all that great girlfriends. Given this, in addition to a musically more trad-/hard rock leaning that can easily be thought of as very male, you'd perhaps think he was being apologetic on behalf of his own gender. But he portrays his characters with a sense of understanding and affection. The boys can be just as jaded. All of them, however, are what America might call losers, but I'd call them seekers. In many ways, Boys and Girls... is very American both musically and in its subject-matter, and so the Hold Steady are carrying on a tradition here. But their ability to carve out a very distinct voice in this tradition, not least through Craig Finn's writing, stories and observations, makes them unique. When two of Finn's seekers, an Izzy Stradlin look-alike and a girl, has a brief romantic encounter stoned out and coming to in the chillout tent of a festival, only to never see eachother again, we have the Hold Steady at the top of their game immortalizing their short story. It's the kind of story you wanna hear again and again.

No Fiasco

I like this

You said "Joy"?

I am not, under any circumstance, going to watch this.

Boys and Girls pt. 2

Is it just me, or is Justin bragging more on his new album than he used to? Not that he's not entitled to, but in my opinion his slick flirting ("Gentlemen, good night / Ladies? Good morning") is better than his boasting ("We're talkin' one of the greatest / who did it before"). But he still nails it when it comes to describing a purty lady's effect on him, especially the one that has him Love Stoned.

Can you count AND dance, btw? These girls can, but I'm still not convinced by their Romantics cover. I mean, you can't top the original, can you?

The new Hold Steady sounds great. A bit more trad song structures and singing, less 80's guitar crunch. But the story telling and the solid rock beat is still intact.

Boys and Girls

I received this today:

Nostalgia

Steve Albini and Ian Svenonious getting mushy.

I insist!

One of my favorite records of all time, Max Roach's We Insist! Freedom Now Suite, seems to be back in print/circulation. Get it here, or here, or try one of your local well-stocked boutiques. I'll certainly try to make sure that it's available in Oslo.

Currently playing: Trio 3's Time Being (Intakt); Justin Timberlake's FutureSex/LoveSounds (Jive); The Rapture's Pieces of the People We Love (Universal); The Thermals' The Body, the Blood, the Machine (Sub Pop), all of which has promising moments.

Dewey Redman

I was listening to WKCR last night, and they said that tenor saxophonist Dewey Redman passed away this Saturday. However, I can't find anything on the web to confirm this, so either they were pulling my leg, in which case I put a curse on their houses, or journos across the world have been too damn slow to write about it. With reservations, R.I.P.

update:

From what I've gathered, Mr. Redman did indeed pass away on Saturday, September 2 from liver failure. He'd also battled prostate cancer in recent years. Thanks to the kind people at Jazzcorner's Speakeasy for the info.

New York Times piece.

Robert Zimmerman

Because I'm a grumpy guy, and because Norwegian music journalists can't write to save their lives, I was skeptical to Bob Dylan's new album (reminder to self: do not read Norwegian music reviews). Luckily, It is easy to get past that skepticism when I listen to the album , and I've been taken by the album's shuffling rhythms and Dylan's wit.

"I got troubles so hard, I can't stand the strain / I got troubles so hard, I can't stand the strain / Some young lazy slut has charmed away my brains"

Heh! And I thought it would get easier to ignore young sluts once you got older. Wonder if the slut in question is Scarlett.

Pere Ubu hates women (not really: fiction, remember?) and makes a very good album. Due out September 19.

Å bæsje på leggen

The powers that be at the Village Voice have messed up again. I was forwarded this e-mail earlier today:

Dear Friends and Colleagues,

If this comes completely out of the blue, I apologize.

It is now official--Village Voice Media fired me today, "for taste," which means (among other things) slightly sweeter severance. This despite the support of new music editor Rob Harvilla, who I like as a person and a writer. We both believed I had won myself some kind of niche as gray eminence. So I was surprised Tuesday when I was among the eight Voice employees(five editorial, three art) who were instructed to bring their union reps to a meeting with upper management today. But I certainly wasn't shocked--my approach to music coverage has never been much like that of the New Times papers,

Bless the union, my severance is substantial enough to give me time to figure out what I'm doing next. In fact, having finished all my freelance reviews yesterday, I don't have a single assignment pending. So, since I have no intention of giving up rock criticism, all reasonable offers entertained; my phonenumber is in the book, as they used to say when there were books. What I don't need is a vacation--the three of us just had a great two and a half weeks, and Nina matriculated at BMCC yesterday.

No need to respond. Forward to whoever you will.

Love, Bob Christgau

Firing one of the most distinct voices in rock critisism must surely be the last nail in the Voice's coffin.