Editor’s note:Arachnophonia is a regular feature on our blog where members of the UR community can share their thoughts about resources from the Parsons Music Library‘s collection.
Franz Ferdinand are a Scottish Rock Band founded in Glasgow who’ve achieved worldwide success throughout the past decade and a half making post-punk revival music. Franz Ferdinand’s best work struck the world in their first ever album, you guessed it… Franz Ferdinand. Released on February 9th, 2004, the album launched Franz Ferdinand to international fame with over a million copies sold in both the United Kingdom and the United States and received a Grammy nomination for best Alternative Album in 2004.
The album has a quiet start with the soft intro of the first song on the album, “Jacqueline”, before the band explodes showcasing their eccentric talent. The album is rooted by its hit classics such as “Take Me Out” and “Michael” which blend the perfect combination of dance-rock rhythms and light pop hooks. Songs like “The Dark of the Matinee” and “Darts of Pleasure” surround your ears with a dark and soothing rhythm but almost juvenile lyrics which keep the bittersweet taste of the whole album. My personal favorite song “Auf Achse” appears melancholy at first glance but features a powerful background of instrumental talent that moves you along as if you’re feeling their world around you.
If you’re into any form of indie / alternative rock music and you’re feeling nostalgic for the early zips, this is the album for you. Even if you’ve already listened to it on repeat the past week like I have.
Editor’s note:Arachnophonia is a regular feature on our blog where members of the UR community can share their thoughts about resources from the Parsons Music Library‘s collection.
The Black Keys have always been one of those bands where I couldn’t name a single one of their songs off the top of my head, yet I know all the words to nearly every one I hear. Looking back, they very well could’ve been considered my favorite band for how often I listened to their music and how much I liked it.
I can’t say exactly why I never committed titles to memory; it certainly wasn’t because they were forgettable songs. Rather, I think it was the sheer fact that, at the height of their popularity, their music was so genre-defining and omnipresent that I only needed to hum the melody or say a few lines from the chorus, and anyone would know what song I was referring to. Take the song “Tighten Up” for instance. If you don’t recognize it from the title, listen to the first few bars of the track and wait for the instant hit of nostalgia.
The group consists of two friends from Akron, Ohio: Dan Auerbach on guitar and vocals and Patrick Carney on drums. They started the band in 2001, and like all good grassroots garage bands, dropped out of college to pursue their bluesy-rock sound and slowly built an underground fan base through extensive touring, frequent album releases, and music festival appearances until their commercial breakthrough in 2010. This album, Brothers, catapulted them from garage indie band to one of the most popular and famous bands in their genre and winning them three Grammy Awards in the process.
For me, they defined a pivotal era in my music history. Being a child who grew up on her dad’s CD collection of alternative rock albums from the 70s and 80s, The Black Keys were one of the first bands that I discovered all on my own and shaped what I would listen to from then on. They drove me to find other music like theirs: the type of music that couldn’t have been written at any other time, yet still feels timeless.
Editor’s note:Arachnophonia is a regular feature on our blog where members of the UR community can share their thoughts about resources from the Parsons Music Library‘s collection.
I’m fascinated by the vocal talent of musicians and for some reason, I discover a lot of artists that I enjoy through listening to covers of their songs by a cappella groups on YouTube. I had no idea who George Ezra was until I listened to the Trinitones perform a mash-up of “Barcelona,” “Budapest” and “Paradise” over a year ago. The all-male group surprised me with their impressive talent, but also with the arrangement of the songs. I was familiar with the song “Budapest” because it had been playing on radio stations at the time, but the artist behind the song had escaped my familiarity. After listening to Wanted on Voyage however, George Ezra has become a frequent artist on my Spotify playlists.
Wanted on Voyage is Ezra’s debut album released in the UK in 2014. He had first been discovered by Columbia Records in 2012 from his videos on YouTube performing his own original songs. After being contracted to work for Columbia Records, Ezra found inspiration for his album in 2013 when he traveled by train across Europe, writing about the places he visited and the people he met. From this collection of memories, Ezra sat down and penned the songs for the album, immortalizing his journey.
The album gained many positive reviews on release, attributing the success to the relatively simple composition of the songs that are dramatically enhanced by Ezra’s ability to sing. A vital characteristic to Ezra’s music is his voice, which is naturally lower than many popular artists. The pitch of his voice adds flavor to his songs that make it appear as if these songs only fit the register that Ezra is able to perform in. Some highlights of the album for me are “Budapest” and “Barcelona,” which is not a surprise considering these are the songs that led me to George Ezra’s music. The mix between Ezra’s incredible voice and the instrumentation and production on both tracks really drives home the idea of why I enjoy his music so much. Another track I enjoy is “Did You Hear The Rain?” which was released as the first single from the album.
Wanted on Voyage is a fantastic album that does not try to create complicated music. The purity of the instrumentation and vocals shine through on every track. George Ezra actually filmed a Mahogany Session video for “Budapest,” which is a video series that allows artists to acoustically perform some of their most famous songs for the world to gain a more intimate view of the artist. This particular video is great, because I honestly cannot tell the difference in the quality of Ezra’s singing between the video and the recorded song from the album. Wanted on Voyage truly shines as Ezra’s first step into the musical world and it manifested a popularity around him that still holds true to this day.
Editor’s note:Arachnophonia is a regular feature on our blog where members of the UR community can share their thoughts about resources from the Parsons Music Library‘s collection.
To me, John Mayer stands as one of the most interesting musical icons of my childhood. Originally making his name as a pop-rock singer-songwriter, Mayer garnered attention early in his career for his guitar ability (he attended Berklee College of Music’s guitar program for two semesters). After the success of his 2001 debut Room for Squares (for which he won his first Grammy) and 2003’s Heavier Things, Mayer pivoted when he released Try! (2005), a blues record released under the moniker of the John Mayer Trio. With his most acclaimed album, Continuum (2006), Mayer sought to unite his earlier pop-rock stylings with his recent efforts in blues.
Though for whatever reason, it’s Mayer’s first album, Room for Squares, that I find myself listening to more often than his more acclaimed and successful releases. I fully agree that Continuum is a masterfully executed record that showcases the best of his songwriting ability. And Where The Light Is: John Mayer Live in Los Angeles (2008) might be my favorite live album of all time. But there’s something wonderfully innocent about Room for Squares absent in his other works, like the lovable arrogance with which Mayer scoffs at those who doubted his decision to drop out in “No Such Thing”:
“I want to run through the halls of my high school
I want to scream at the
Top of my lungs
I just found out there’s no such thing as the real world
Just a lie you’ve got to rise above”
And then immediately doubts himself in “Why Georgia”:
“’Cause I wonder sometimes
About the outcome
Of a still verdictless life
Am I living it right?”
Or maybe it has more to do with the fact that, to me, the album itself is seems distanced from the controversy-plagued, self-proclaimed “ego addict” that Mayer eventually become known as. Contrast this with his 2003 acceptance speech for his first Grammy award (for “Your Body Is a Wonderland” off of Room for Squares), in which Mayer remarked “this is very, very fast and I promise to catch up,” and you might begin to appreciate the sort of unspoiled innocence of Meyer’s debut, and indeed, his early career as a whole. Regardless, Room for Squares remains an often stunning debut (see: guitar part on “Neon”) from a man who would go on to change the landscapes of both pop and blues music.
John Mayer playing live at Tower Records in Atlanta, Georgia 2001
Editor’s note:Arachnophonia is a regular feature on our blog where members of the UR community can share their thoughts about resources from the Parsons Music Library‘s collection.
John Mayer, the egotistical, narcissistic, prodigious, reformed paradox of a musician is by far my favorite artist of all time. When people think of John Mayer, they typically think of him for one of two things: his iconic love songs or TMZ headlines articulating exactly how he broke Katy Perry’s/Taylor Swift’s/Kim Kardashian’s/Jennifer Anniston’s heart. Either way, I rarely see people appreciating his musical talent or his raw songwriting genius. There’s a reason Eric Clapton calls him a “master” guitarist. And for me, there’s no better example of this mastery than on his fifth studio album, Born and Raised.
You wouldn’t guess it at first, Mayer often speaks in interviews about how his favorite type of music to write is blues. You get hints of this on sprinkled across his other hit albums, but Born and Raised is his real tribute to this passion. From first looking at the album art, it becomes apparent that this is no ordinary album from hit-machine John. There’s no photo of Mayer trying to seem like he doesn’t know his picture is being taken, and no angsty black and white filter over the whole image. No, Born and Raised sports old-fashioned text intertwined with clockwork, adorned with phrases such as “Music by John Mayer” and “Stereo Recorded Sound.” No glitz or glam, no profile shots algorithmically calculated to get girls to pick up the tape. Just the title, and a little style to set the tone.
Now, the music. The tracks on this album are slow, gentle folk songs, with a Mayeresque vibe to them. It opens with “Queen of California,” as Mayer immediately flexes his technical muscles with a flowing, articulated, methodical guitar riff cover almost the entire length of the song. It almost sounds like “Why Georgia” at first, but the album’s themes sink in after a spell. A gentle, clean electric guitar accents the track with smooth bends which work alongside Mayer’s voice to keep you interested.
Another highlight of the album comes with the fifth track, “Something Like Olivia.” If you’re still questioning Mayer’s prowess on the guitar, just watch the music video on YouTube. The fact that he can keep this riff going effortlessly whilst singing is beyond me, and the studio version certainly displays his mastery well. The lyrics are repetitive yet meaningful, and the chorus is easy to sing along to. “Something Like Olivia” is about a girl, but it’s not a love song. It’s a jam.
Finally, we have the title track. “Born and Raised” is deservingly named after the album (or… vice versa?), as the simple chord progression leaves Mayer’s voice at the forefront. A harmonica finishes out each chorus in lieu of a guitar solo, an ode to the unique blues/country rock theme of this album. Lyrically, “Born and Raised” is a strong track, telling the story of how he feels that life has passed him by, and how he no longer feels like he has dreams to work towards: “I still have dreams, they’re not the same/They don’t fly as high as they used to/I saw my friend, he’s in my head/And he said, ‘You don’t remember me do you?’”
As a whole, Born and Raised is a break from Mayer’s routine, and it feels like the first album he made more for himself than for the public. It’s not a collection of hits, and it’s not a collection of his best guitar playing. It’s a collection of jams, and though he would continue his adventure into Americana with his next album, Paradise Valley, it was a testament to the kind of music Mayer wanted to make. If nothing else, it’s a collection of good songs, and an album I think everyone should listen to.
Editor’s note:Arachnophonia is a regular feature on our blog where members of the UR community can share their thoughts about resources from the Parsons Music Library‘s collection.
When I was 12 years old, my mother took me to my first concert. My love for music had become exceedingly apparent to my parents, and they figured that 12 years old was an appropriate age to expose me to live music.
My mother is a huge classic rock fan, so growing up I was fed a strict diet of Fleetwood Mac, Rolling Stones, Beatles, and other such legendary bands. However, my favorite band growing up was The Allman Brothers. Gregg Allman’s lyrics and Duane Allman’s guitar (later Dickey Betts’ guitar) constantly played over our car’s sound system during rides short and long. They were coming to our area around my birthday, so my mother decided to get us tickets. Now, although the members were in their old age, and weren’t in their prime anymore, I still believe that to this day it was one of the best concerts I have ever been to.
The Allman Brothers Band circa 1971 – Butch Trucks, Gregg Allman, Berry Oakley, Jaimoe Johanson, & Dickey Betts (L-R)
I wish I had a recording of the night, but unfortunately they weren’t taping this particular concert. The Music Library, however, has The Allman Brothers Band at Fillmore East on CD. A CD that I believe my mother and I listen to quite frequently on trips. There’s nothing better than live music, and nothing better than The Allman Brothers live; I highly recommend listening to this particular recording because it ends with two of my absolute favorite Allman Brothers songs: “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” and “Whipping Post.”
“In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” is the first instrumental track the Allman Brothers Band wrote. It was written by Dickey Betts who dedicated it to a woman with whom he had had an affair with after she had passed away. This woman was actually Boz Scaggs’ girlfriend, but Dickey changed the name to keep their tryst a secret. Fun fact: the woman is buried in the same graveyard where Duane Allman is buried, and Dickey frequently visited to pay his respects and to write songs. He lifted the name “Elizabeth Reed” from a tombstone near where he used to write.
“Whipping Post” is a hard-hitting, in your face rock song about the torment of being in love with a woman who doesn’t love you back, even when you bend over backwards for her. Its powerful lyrics and driving rhythm really foreshadowed the Allman Brothers’ future success, as “Whipping Post” was one of the first songs written by the band. The song itself is actually quite difficult to play because the track is written in 11/4. Gregg Allman, who didn’t know how to read sheet music at first, had to ask Duane how to count it because he thought the rhythm felt wrong (rightfully so).
Editor’s note:Arachnophonia is a regular feature on our blog where members of the UR community can share their thoughts about resources from the Parsons Music Library‘s collection.
Today’s installment of Arachnophonia is by student worker Gabriela (class of 2020) and features the rock opera Tommy, originally released by the Who in 1969. Thanks, Gabi!
I grew up listening to classic rock. My father played anything from The Beatles, to Led Zeppelin, to The Eagles for me from the moment I was born, and this is something I cherish greatly. Not only did it bring us closer together, but it sparked my interest in music and shaped music taste from a young age. The Who was particularly special to my father and me, and nothing was more special than Tommy.
I remember listening to the Tommy CD in my dad’s old Saturn Vue on the way to school. It was magical, and the first time that the classic rock sound I knew so well sounded like something completely different. Tommy is a rock opera written by The Who’s guitar player, Pete Townshend, and performed by the entirety of the band. It tells the story of a deaf, mute and blind boy who relies on his imagination to get him through his difficult life, and even develops a sense of touch that is strong enough to make him a champion at pinball. Like a musical, Tommy’s fascinating odyssey is told through music, as each song describes a different episode in his life.
In some cases, the detailed nature of Townshend’s songwriting makes the narrative easy enough to follow along with no visual component necessary. For example, the lyrics in the songs “Cousin Kevin,” where the listener learns of Tommy’s abusive relative, and “Go to the Mirror!,” where Tommy’s doctor finally determines the source of his disabilities, are straightforward and descriptive. However, some of the most powerful moments on the album exist within the instrumentals, where the music creates such a strong sense of imagery and emotion that it puts the listener in Tommy’s shoes without even using a lyric. The instrumental “Sparks” represents the “Amazing Journey” described to the listener immediately before it, and takes us along for the ride that is Tommy’s fascinating mind.
The Who in July 1969: L-R: Guitarist Pete Townshend, singer Roger Daltrey, drummer Keith Moon (1947-1978), and bassist John Entwistle (1944 – 2002) pose around a table for a feature in Vogue magazine. (Photo by Jack Robinson/Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
I don’t know if I could pick a favorite song today, but I remember my first favorite was “Sally Simpson,” a moment in which the main plot of Tommy is interrupted to tell the story of a young girl. Even the upbeat musical tone of the song itself seems to deviate from what the listener has heard on the album thus far. Here, Townshend further demonstrates his genius through the use of metafiction, or a story within a story. Sally, a young girl, is one of Tommy’s superfans who sneaks out of the house to watch Tommy speak, and is ultimately injured badly when she tries to get on stage to touch him. Although Sally’s life directly connects with Tommy’s, through her separate story, the listener gets an outsider’s perspective on how Tommy’s fame is impacting everyday people.
Listening to Tommy is a musical experience unlike any other. Not only is the story itself unique and full of lessons, but Townshend’s brilliant songwriting pairs so perfectly with the storytelling and singing of Roger Daltrey. Listening to Tommy is reading a novel you just can’t seem to put down; it is watching a movie where you want to catch everything so you try not to blink. The album even inspired a movie of the same name featuring a star-studded cast, and a subsequent Broadway musical. How many albums do you know that fit this description?
Poster for the 1975 movie version of Tommy (l) and for the 1993 Broadway production (r)
Most kids probably can’t sing along to “The Acid Queen,” (maybe for a good reason) but I’m thankful that I knew the words, even if I didn’t understand what it meant. I didn’t have to understand it to know it was something special. Thanks dad, for putting Tommy on in the car and eventually taking me to watch Roger Daltrey himself perform the album live in its entirety.
Editor’s note:Arachnophonia is a regular feature on our blog where members of the UR community can share their thoughts about resources from the Parsons Music Library‘s collection.
If you would care to, imagine a flustered 13 year old girl who cut her own ragged side bangs, refused to wear colors other than red and black, and printed out pages and pages of My Chemical Romance lyrics to memorize before bed each night.
This was my reality in middle school. My parents hated it. I loved it.
When I began listening to MCR, they had recently released their 2006 album, The Black Parade, a musical narrative telling the story of ‘The Patient’ who falls ill and dies, experiences the afterlife and reflects on the life he led. With the album came the platinum hair of Gerard Way (he had a different hair color for almost every album) and the peak popularity of the band’s career. The most popular song on the album, “Welcome to the Black Parade,” I played during my 7th grade piano recital, to my parents’ horror (ahh memories). The music video very accurately characterizes the theme, energy, and story continued throughout the album.
One of the things I love most about MCR is how they weave each album’s music into a crazy, creative and awe-inspiring narrative, and continue that narrative through music videos and live performances. It makes listening to their music an active experience. This was also demonstrated through their 2010 album, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, which featured a corresponding comic book series published by Dark Horse as well as a full
character costume for each band member – and cherry red hair for Gerard Way.
MCR Danger Days promo photo
You know I have every issue of that comic series in my room at home, by the way.
The extent to which I immersed myself in The Black Parade, (along with all of MCR’s albums) has made such a lasting impact on me. Twelve years later and I still consistently listen to my favorite band from middle school – those years are impactful and to this day I have not felt the same connection to any artist or group as I felt and still feel to My Chemical Romance.
Today’s installment of Arachnophonia is by Music Library student worker, Cole (class of 2021) and features U2’s album All That You Can’t Leave Behind. Thanks, Cole!
U2’s 10th studio album All That You Can’t Leave Behind was released on October 30th, 2000. It is their fourth-highest selling album, with over 12 million copies sold.
“Let’s be frank.” I feel like any discussion regarding U2 in 2018 has to, for whatever reason, be prefaced by those three words. The fabled Irish rock band present a somewhat curious case in the canon of The Great Rock And Roll acts; few bands achieved such a breadth of critical and commercial success without famously disbanding (see: The Beatles, The Smiths, and, to a lesser extent, Pink Floyd.) or cycling through members to the point of near-unrecognition (The Rolling Stones). No, U2 are still here, still plucking away through a slew of pedal effects. From Boy (1980) to Songs of Experience (2017), co-founders Bono, The Edge, Adam Clayton, and Larry Mullen Jr. have experienced everything that a modern musical career could promise. Eight number one albums in the United States. 22 Grammy awards (more than any other group). A PR misstep that has forever associated their name with “how do I get this off of my iPhone?” Induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Multiple collaborations with Kendrick Lamar that can at best be described as “uncomfortable.” The Dublin boys have done it all.
So, let’s be frank: the U2 of today is not the U2 of How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb, just as that U2 isn’t the U2 of Achtung Baby, just as that U2… etc., etc., ad nauseam. Nor should they be. A discography spanning such a great length ought to be varied, especially if the band in question is as experimental and flippant with their sound as U2. For this reason, I chose to write about their tenth studio album.
All That You Can’t Leave Behind constitutes the best of U2’s ever-changing sound. After a mixed reception to their industrial and electronic dance-inspired efforts of the ‘90s (Zooropa and Pop), the group set out to record a ‘return to form.’ Melding the electronic drums of the group’s Pop-era sound with the Edge’s signature effect-driven guitar playing, more reminiscent of The Joshua Tree than ever, the lead single “Beautiful Day” proved an instant success, charting at #1 in the U.K, the Netherlands, and Australia, and #21 in the U.S. In keeping with their tradition of social conscience, the fourth and final single, “Walk On” was inspired by and dedicated to Burmese democratic activist Aung San Suu Kyi, who was at the time placed under house arrest. “Walk On” is widely regarded as U2’s greatest ode to hope, due to both the instrumentation, centered on one of the Edge’s most gratifying riffs, and the heartening lyrics:
Walk on, walk on
What you got they can’t steal it
No they can’t even feel it
Walk on, walk on…
Stay safe tonight
All That You Can’t Leave Behind is the album that forced U2 into the very core of my musical tastes. I fully accept that The Joshua Tree is the band’s best output (and indeed, one of the greatest rock records ever), but there’s an elusive quality to this one that demands it be at the forefront in my mind. Maybe it’s just because it happened to be one of the three U2 albums forever interred in the CD player of my dad’s Oldsmobile. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the 50 minute nostalgia injection it provides. Or maybe it’s because not a great many albums are so blatantly and unabashedly a product of the moment they were created in. From the millennium-era instrumentation and lyrical inspiration, to the life the songs took post-release, All That You Can’t Leave Behind is the musical embodiment of how Bono & co. saw the world in 2000. Even for the majority of people who didn’t grow up hearing snippets of this album every time that got in their family’s car, I think we can all appreciate the power of an album that can transport us, if only for a short while, to its moment.
Today’s installment of Arachnophonia is by Music Library student worker, Duncan (class of 2018) and features American rock band Green Day’s 2004 album American Idiot. Thanks, Duncan!
In discussions of individuals’ favorite music, it is often noted how certain songs, albums, and artists have a significant amount of “staying power” with those individuals. These works have managed, at numerous stages of people’s lives, to maintain their resonance. For me, the album that has had this degree of prolonged impact is Green Day’s 2004 album, American Idiot.
I was raised on “oldies” music. Throughout my childhood, starting around the age of three or four, I would go to bed each night with the music of The Beatles, The Monkees, or Simon and Garfunkel (among others) quietly playing on the boom box which rested on my bedside table. I distinctly remember my parents burying their heads in their hands in embarrassment as I sang along to The Monkees’ Greatest Hits on a crowded flight. All of this is to say that, for as long as I can remember, I had been primed for an appreciation for rock & roll.
Then, when I was in fourth grade, I came across the song “Holiday” on YouTube, and I was immediately enamored. I am the son of a (progressive, it should be noted) North Carolina pastor, and had not yet been exposed to the bluntness, ruggedness, and vulgarity of punk music. While I certainly did not understand the political significance of the song at the time (the song is a criticism of the invasion of Iraq), I enjoyed the edginess of the track; it seemed charged with angst and sarcasm. One YouTube spiral later, I was begging my parents for the album for months. Eventually, my parents were worn down by my persistence, and bought me the album.
While I initially appreciated the album for its catchiness, it has established new levels of significance for me in the decade since I first listened. The album is what the band describes as a “punk rock opera,” following a character named the Jesus of Suburbia as he faces the trials of an unhealthy home life, disenfranchisement, drug abuse, and lost love. The album is particularly effective in that it personifies the resentment of American society at the time of its conception. If anything, the issues addressed in the album have gained greater significance as our political landscape has grown increasingly polarized.
While a large part of my appreciation of the album is rooted in in nostalgia, I think the album holds up both thematically and musically. I still find myself returning to it and experiencing new levels of appreciation. The album has been incredibly significant for me, and I hope others experience it similarly.
