Gorillaz’ “Plastic Beach,” a Great Beached Whale

Gorillaz have been one of pop’s wackiest successes since “Clint Eastwood” invaded airwaves nearly a decade ago. It’s hard to believe a cartoon band lasted this long, even harder considering the group releases new music about once every five years.

Of course, it’s all the brainchild of former Blur front man Damon Albarn, a challenging and prolific songwriter, and illustrator Jamie Hewlett. The duo stays busy with an endless roll of side projects, thus Plastic Beach, the group’s newest album, comes a full half-decade after the fluke commercial success of Demon Days.

Plastic Beach is a braver record in every way, especially in its bevy of guest spots. Albarn wipes Snoop Dogg of grit and leaves him alone in a sterile soundscape. He employs the influential mutter of former Velvet Underground singer Lou Reed in a barroom piano jam. Veteran rap troupe De La Soul makes “Superfast Jellyfish” the jam of the spring.

It’s worth noting that many of Albarn’s collaborators are washed up music legends. The word here is “rebirth.” He treats these musicians as actors in his giant production, and Plastic Beach proves him a brilliant director – he rouses unexpectedly great performances from almost all of them.

The secret to Gorillaz lies in this pluralistic approach, and Plastic Beach is its realization. It’s as if the shattered pieces of world culture washed up on a beach, and Albarn, with the help of some friends, was there to reassemble them in his own demented way.

Speaking of pollution, the muse is an imagined island, composed of all the ocean’s floating trash. Plastic Beach is as a concept album should be: strange and messy and full of wit. Hewlett’s stylized version of the future is impossible and idyllic. The main characters aren’t cartoon characters anymore – they’re environments.

The result is a great beached whale of an album, one that was really written for sunshine. Albarn has a knack for breezy, winding melodies, as heard in the title track and “Broken,” the record’s best song. Elsewhere, the charming, carbonated sound of the band’s 2001 debut bubbles to the surface. (“Superfast Jellyfish,” “On Melancholy Hill”)

Still, Albarn wrote more than 70 songs for this record, and some of that blubber remains, sandwiched between distinct pop gems. Mos Def’s contributions to “Stylo” and “Sweepstakes” are especially disappointing – the latter sounds like M.I.A. with the cream filling sucked out. Two other songs relegate the funk-cacophony of Hypnotic Brass Ensemble to musical wallpaper.

Regardless, it’s a thrill to hear Albarn evolve from rock star to curator. He’s become a socially conscious prophet and vital pop musician. Plastic Beach is an undeniable success, especially in timing – I can’t think of a better soundtrack for spring break.

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Eluvium’s “Similes,” A Restful Void

My first listen of Eluvium’s new record was interrupted barely five minutes in, when I fell asleep.

To my credit, Similes is an impenetrable, arrhythmic fog. Matthew Cooper, the man behind the moniker, has a track record of ambient releases, a genre born in the space between transcendent and tedious.

Brian Eno, the musician widely credited for the creation of ambient, once wrote that the music “is intended to induce calm and a space to think.” In this context, Similes rushes to buy wallpaper and curtains before building a doorframe. Cooper, an obvious member of the Pro Tools generation, squanders fine-tuned production on half-hearted song fragments.

Still, Cooper knows the trappings of ambient music: soft tones, innocuous chords, slow tempos and no singing. He violates that last rule for the first time on Similes, but does so timidly by burying his tuneless mutter low in the mix. He should have known better.

He also should have known that chaining Similes to a single mood would trap the record inside its own murky aesthetic. These are drones, not songs. Repeating the same progression for 11 minutes (“Cease to Know”) is no longer experimental – it’s lazy and it leaves little room for evolution or enjoyment.

Even more constrictive is Cooper’s reliance on piano and back-masked guitar, which lays a soggy foundation for every song on Similes. “If the colors and the shapes were clearly more defined,” he sings in the finale, a condition he would do well to indulge.

Sadly, of all the emotions the record strains to evoke, the only apparent one is disappointment. Deep yearning should lead to action, and this is Cooper’s problem: his voice is all welled tears and no balled fists. Only a child could enjoy this sort of sad indulgence.

The result is a piece of music unsuitable for active listening. Ironically, Similes is a soundtrack to its own failure.

OK Go Live At the Midland

I have to preface the OK Go show in Kansas City with a few initial warnings and observations. The first is that if you go to an OK Go show expecting to understand any of the lyrics that frontman Damien Kulash is blaring out, you will be gravely disappointed. He belts a good voice, but it is mostly trumped by the instruments and muddled in good, yet somewhat incomprehensible falsetto.  Second, if there is ever a free OK Go show in your area and you think, “I’ll show up around start time and get in no sweat,” you might want to think again.  We rolled up to the venue an hour and forty-five minutes before the show was set to start (mind you, there were three openers) and encountered a line stretching nearly a block. We were able to secure tickets somewhat easily, but showing up “on time” would have made for a disappointing evening. Third, if there is a show you want to see at The Midland or Uptown Theater in Kansas City and you are debating attendance, suck it up and go. Both venues will surprise and delight, and Kansas City is the tops.  I recommend the Midland over uptown, but only because of connotative experience.

Concerning the show, the Chicago-based band simply knows how to perform. They want to be known for more than just their “wicked cool and creative” music videos and they very well should be. However, it’s going to be tough for them to get proper recognition for such things as showmanship and musicality if they keep recording such “wicked cool and creative” music videos. We were informed at the show that they recently stayed up until four in the morning with 12 NASA engineers plotting their next video.  So be on the look-out for something nebular (space joke).  Although their show did live up to music video hype, the “music” of the evening did not steal the show.  It might sound horrible to a musician’s ear, but the most intriguing aspect of their show didn’t rely on musical ability.  Their creativity in presentation was what kept all eyes stage-centered.

They performed the song, “What To Do,” to the tune of traditional hand bells.  Kulash made a statement regarding how they were going to do what Sunday morning had failed to perfect. While the hand bells didn’t sound all that great and Kulash’s voice, due to mic positioning, sounded a country away, it was a noble and engaging effort.  The attempt might have been less than “Sunday morning perfection,” but the guts to stick their neck out and attempt hand bells is quite astounding, especially given how awful the hand bells typically sound.

Another stunt that is not specific to OK Go yet still packed a mean punch was Kulash’s mic cam.  We were in the balcony so we got a stellar view of the screen on which the cam was being displayed. It was eerie.  Kulash stared at us (via his mic) in a discolored black and white setting. Honestly, I don’t even remember the song being sung at the time.  I was more concerned with the Wizard of Oz, a.k.a. Damien Kulash, glaring down at me.

The last effect involved lighting.  This encompasses a few things. They had psychedelic lighting on the back of their jackets that scrolled, which was fairly cool.  Obviously they had classic stage lighting that highlighted Kulash, faded in and out, and accompanied the screen show.  But, the neatest lighting trick of all (and the one that made for the best pic) was the colored lights around the guitars that they donned toward the end of the show. With all stage lighting turned down, they appeared with different colored lights outlining their guitars.  It was at this point that OK Go busted into “This Too Shall Pass,” inviting the audience to stand in for the vocals of the Notre Dame marching band.  Tim Norwind, bass guitar and backing vocals, said that our singing wasn’t as good as a group of Europeans (Spanish, I think) who didn’t know English.  While that upset a few of the audience members who were hoping for their big break, most of us were harmlessly amused by the comment.

The band did play “Here It Goes Again,” but they didn’t cart out treadmills for a video reenactment. They did, however, display dancing treadmills on the projection screen. If you haven’t listened to the song without the visual effect, I highly recommend trying it just once. The song can stand on its own.  Of course, it is much better when it runs on treadmills.