Kiedis, leader singer of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and occasional leather daddy, poses with the rest of the band in a Los Angeles alleyway, 2011
In this concluding edition of the year in review, we will touch upon the developments within the sphere of indie music, reissues, and the absolute worst albums released in 2011. Without further ado, let’s jump on in.
Worthwhile Reissues:
- Sebadoh – Bakesale
- Marvin Gaye – What’s Going On
- Can – Tago Mago
- R.E.M. – Part Lies, Part Heart, Part Truth, Part Garbage: 1982-2011
- The Beach Boys – The Smile Sessions
- Reatards – Teenage Hate
- Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Let Love In; Murder Ballads; The Boatman’s Call; No More Shall We Part
2011’s Indie Darlings:
- Antlers – Burst Apart
- Cults – Cults
- M83 – Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming
- Bon Iver – Bon Iver
- Girls – Father, Son, Holy Ghost
- Julianna Barwick – The Magic Place
- tUnE-yArDs – w h o k i l l
- Panda Bear – Tomboy
- Kurt Vile – Smoke Ring For My Halo
- Real Estate – Days
- Cold Cave – Cherish The Light Years
- Fucked Up – David Comes to Life
The Worst of the Worst:
- Korn & Skrillex – The Path of Totality
Too easy.
- Red Hot Chili Peppers – I’m With You
You knew this was coming.
After snarking on this album for the better part of four months, I forced myself to sit down and listen to it for the sake of journalistic integrity (and because I have a profound masochistic streak). Honestly, you guys, I don’t know. I must have drafted this part about fifteen times before throwing my hands up in frustration because this album – and the Red Hot Chili Peppers, generally – exasperate me a great deal. Simply, they have three talented instrumentalists, limitless resources and a blockbuster producer at their disposal and still can’t seem to write a decent album.
By now the band’s ever-rotating line-up has become common knowledge, but I’m With You marks the band’s first project with new guitarist Josh Klinghoffer. Klinghoffer previously worked with former Chili Peppers guitarist John Frusciante, PJ Harvey, Beck, the Butthole Surfers and, um, Vincent Gallo. Aside from a noticeable decrease in the quantity of effects pedals employed, there is not much of a noticeable difference between Klinghoffer’s contribution to this album and Frusciante’s contributions to the past two. The Chili Peppers virus, it seems, is strong.
So, what’s the solution? Dump Rick Rubin and find another producer? Hole up in Berlin for a year and a half? Burn Anthony Kiedis’ Bukowski collection and make him date someone age-appropriate? The answer to the previous questions is probably “yes” but I think the damage is done. The Peppers belong to a small canon of artists who have more in common with Fortune 500 companies than rock bands. This category also includes U2, Coldplay, Metallica (for the most part; see below) and Green Day. They are the kind of band that can get Julian Schnabel and Damien Hirst to provide album art. When you buy a Peppers album, you know what you are going to get because after twenty-eight years together, they have discovered a formula that sells like gangbusters: Kiedis’ porntastic brain queefs* + increasingly stale musical parts + one trip through Rubin’s production carwash = triple platinum album.
That brings us to the very reason I find this band so exasperating. Sure, when their career began in the mid-1980s, they were vulgar, sloppy, obnoxious and adolescent but they were also exuberant in their vulgarity, sloppiness, obnoxiousness and adolescence. And yes, founding guitarist Hillel Slovak was mostly mimicking Gang of Four guitar parts while Flea was displaying an unhealthy love of all things George Clinton and Anthony carnival-barked his way through lyrics. But there was a sense of possibility before they settled into the cynical, pandering slop that would mark the band’s later career. And that, my dear readers, is why they aggravate me so.
- Lou Reed & Metallica (Loutallica) – Lulu
Lou Reed and Metallica are artists that have made careers out of antagonizing those who love them most. Throughout his career, Reed has confounded fans and music critics alike by stubbornly refusing to give them what they want. Unexpectedly find success with break-through record Transformer? Squander it by subsequently releasing the most aggressively depressing album ever recorded, Berlin. Very often, this pathological contrarianism has produced great works of art and other times, it has simply confused the hell out everyone watching (Hudson River Wind Meditations or Metal Machine Music, anyone?). His discography may be uneven, but the most notable characteristic about Lou has always been his insistence on experimenting with popular music’s boundaries and ignoring whatever trends are currently de rigueur. The flip side of this, of course, is that he can occasionally be consumed by his own hubris.
No strangers to hubris themselves, Metallica is a band that has marked its career by offending the delicate sensibilities of high school metal-heads. They enraged their black t-shirt-clad fanbase by cutting their hair in 1996 and then further angered them by seeking treatment for their alcoholism, providing the theme song to a Tom Cruise vehicle, and then unleashing their whiny Danish dwarf on file sharers. Here is where Metallica and Lou Reed’s similarities end. Where Reed seemed to relish his anti-commercial status, Metallica compulsively chased after the almighty dollar.
How did these disparate artists wind up recording together? Well, if Lou is to be believed, they enjoyed murdering the Velvet Underground classic “Sweet Jane” and decided to relive the experience by writing an album together. The result is pretty dire. Lou seems to have steered the boys of Metallica in his obscure, artsy direction (An album intended to score two plays by German playwright Frank Wedekind does not exactly scream “Metallica Project”). Metallica’s contribution is largely a muddled, floundering mess of Metallica-lite stylings, complete with James Hetfield “singing” back-up to Lou’s Long Island drawl. With the exception of mediocre closing track “Junior Dad,” the album is a travesty that proves hilarious for the first five minutes and soul-crushing after that.
* “Brain queefs” is a term created by our very own Homoviper.
