Regina Spektor, Far — This Russian-born American singer, songwriter and pianist is back with her fifth album, Far — an attempt to return to a mainstream domain, like her hit song “Fidelity” in 2006. Her sound across this album is more confident. That is, as confident as a falsetto-like soprano can be.
She has more control of her voice on the lead single, “The Calculation,” where she tames the beast that can be a shrill, almost inaudible, mezzo-soprano. She has less success on other tracks, where she seems to be gasping for air at the top of her lungs. Spektor’s attempt to hide her pitchy vocals with better production simply fail in “Eet,” a song about forgetting song lyrics, as well as in “One More Time With Feeling,” a song about a poor unfortunate man in the hospital.
She is getting better; that is, if you can deal with the sound of a higher-range, piano-playing version of Sheryl Crow. And if you like storytellers, then you will enjoy her tales, filled with quirky and descriptive details that surprise and make you smile or think. For example, in “The Wallet,” a billfold is found containing a Blockbuster card and “an old stick of Juicy Fruit.” In “Genius Next Door,” people refer to a mystical lake as “the porridge” because it is “as thick as butter.”
One interesting track recalls the ’80s club scene: “Dance Anthem of the ’80s.” The song includes some self-made beats by Ms. Spektor, channeling the same vibe from that era that the hit band The Ting-Tings has successfully tapped in the past year. With Spektor you can quickly migrate from the curious to the bizarre. In “Machine,” Spektor is transformed into some type of cyborg and tells us of her robotic life; mechanical parts tap a rhythmic beat as she intones “hooked into ma-chine.” In short, it is a commentary about the sterility and emptiness of a materialistic real world, certainly more intriguing than the mindlessness and artificiality that one sees on an episode of MTV’s “Real World.”
While some parts of this album are iffy and hard to get through — due to Spektor’s lack of a top voice and general quirkiness — for the most part, this is a very enjoyable piece of work. The stories themselves are worth a good listen, and certainly better than the formulaic music that too often rules the Top 40.
Black Eyed Peas, The E.N.D. — Right of the bat will.i.am and the rest of the Peas bring you into an all-night party, lock the door and throw the key out. Starting off with Billboard super-hit, “Boom Boom Pow,” the energy never dies (also the exact acronym of the album’s title The E.N.D.). It’s obvious that will.i.am has put a hell of a lot of work into this disc trying to perfect every vocal inflection and electronic burst. There is one problem: the lyrics fall far short of what will.i.am and the Peas have shown they are capable of.
Most of the time I can tolerate the absolute idiocy of most of current day hit lyrics. Soulja Boy and the guy who did that Ricky Bobby song (B-Hamp) are building careers out of such drivel, but, damn, these Black Eyed Peas songs are dumb. “Imma Be,” is a perfect demonstration the lack of lyrical genius. It turns into an over-the-top production, with a swirl of what will.i.am will be in the future, even though he already is doing exactly that. I’ve been a huge fan of the Peas before, but some of these songs are just hard to get through if you’re trying to listen carefully.
But if I was a DJ, I could see almost all of these songs moving the crowd and getting everyone grooving. One track not only meets the test, it puts the rest of album to shame. “I Gotta Feeling,” is one of the Peas best songs ever, simply putting down an infectious beat and relating how the world will be alright, so we should just go out have fun and enjoy ourselves. This simple idea of letting loose and simply having a kick-ass time is what the Black Eyed Peas are and always will be about. Stupid never hurt nobody, and for the Peas it just creates an awesome dance album.
The Mars Volta, Octahedron — The Mars Volta have always been a hard rock band known for creating something original, something experimental, something you would never dream of hearing. They often, too, were piercingly loud and sometimes difficult for broader audiences to understand.
With their fifth studio album, Octahedron, The Mars Volta remains experimental, but tones down its sound to accompany more intimate vocals and creates a more tuneful, if bitterly lovelorn, album. This is a great step for The Mars Volta whose previous work has been built on the amazing talents of their dually talented guitarists, Omar Rodríguez-López and Red Hot Chili Peppers’ John Frusciante.
By taking more time working on vocals and more accessible (if harsh) lyrics — instead of the primordial screams that have become synonymous with the band — we get a more dynamic and interesting Mars Volta. The eight-headed monster that is Octahedron is about lost love that is translated in words and tones ranging from tearful remorse to bitterness and hate. In “Since We’ve Been Wrong,” a mournful and jilted lover is given to tears as a melodic electric mandolin is played and sings “One day a rain will come and wash away/ Dead earth that held us was no island/ I have become ingrown inside this skin/ I’ll find a way out through those eyelids.” In a mellow ballad, “Copernicus,” love has ended in hurt for both parties: “The solution inhaled from the rag I hold/ Holds a maximum vacancy/ As I help you in crippled bandages/ Don’t you stay up and wait for me/ Left dangling in the wind.”
While still kerning to the loves lost theme, The Mars Volta still exhibits its hard rock chops with tracks like “Cotopaxi” and “Desperate Graves.” On vocals in “Cotopaxi” Cedric Bixler-Zavala almost seems to be channeling Janis Joplin and the band seems to be finding its sound in an early 1970’s garage. And as the tune rocks, the lyrics remain both soulful and disturbing allusions to love lost: “Find me the head/ And I’ll show you the body/ Lay it to rest/ Don’t say you’re sorry.” “Desperate Graves” pulsates just as its voice seems to be prepared to say good-bye to the here and now, “When I turn the dial/ And leave the gas on/ I’m the matchstick/ That you’ll never lose.”
The Mars Volta demonstrates in Octahedron that it is not just another loud experimental rock band, with routines consisting of six marathon tracks with random jazz-funk instrumental freak outs. Here they show thematic discipline, versatility in approach, strong writing and superior musicianship. This is still experimental music, but it does display several facets from this gem of a band that is definitely worth a serious listen.