Microphones - Song Islands
(K)
Reviews of this nature are semi-ridiculous. Empty platitudes like "preaching to the choir" come to mind really. An informed fakejazz reader already knows what The Microphones sound like, and even if one doesn't, it can be summed up quite easily in a sentence or two: pleasant lo-fi pop that gets comparisons to Neutral Milk Hotel, but rather, if, say, Brian Wilson fronted them. Oh, and without the Bulgarian and Eastern European themes Mangum throws in. Oh, and Phil Elvrum's lyrical style is more natural, more apt to be a vignette, rather than Mangum's visceral, obfuscating style.
And that's it. The authorial abyss opens wide. Describing the music is a waste of time. Perhaps I should invent some metaphor that describes what it's like to listen to them. "The Microphones are a serpentine barrage that winds its way from the vinyl indentations, through the needle, and into your ears where the quotidian persiflage of the everyday is laid bare." Yes, that should be read as mockery. You see, I've read that. Ok, not that, but stuff like that. It's so much debris.
The problem is, that when faced with an album like this, well, let me give you the skinny, it's a compilation album, like Superchunk's Incidental Music, you know b-sides, 7"es, rarities, the usual. I remember Columbia House's encapsulation of Incesticide: "A treasure trove of b-sides and unreleased rarities," and while pat, that about sums it up. I mean, this is something for real fans, it's pleasant, there are a bunch of good songs, but ultimately it's incoherent as a whole, and therefore, it merits zero critical attention. It's nice for die-hard fans, but that's it.
The problem is that most reviews don't acknowledge this, the fact that most albums can be talked about in a paragraph and then forgotten. I read all these things that either amount to nonsense or to a glorified ad for the album. No wonder record companies send out promotional copies. You can't buy publicity like this. Well, unless you actually buy publicity for the album. Like with an advertisement.
The point is, it seems like many reviewers have opted for the easy way out. Many are critics only in the sense of simple critique, not in the sense of critical, of looking for themes, complex ideas, cultural links, etc. I mean, I'm sure that The Strokes aren't a wellspring of philosophically tantalizing ideas, but there has to be something. And maybe that's the real problem. The bulk of albums that are released don't merit any serious attention, they can be tossed off with hokey metaphors and biographical dressing (or for the student of new journalism, autobiographical dressing). Whatever. Five paragraphs later and all I know is that I'm glad I got my copy of Song Island for free, even though I would have bought it because I really like The Microphones.
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