Over the past few months, I’ve had plenty of time to sort through my music collection and rediscover some more noteworthy albums to share with you all.

U2’s critically-acclaimed, recently remastered War album is the first record I’d like to discuss with you in this issue.

Drums like a soldier’s self-assertive march kick-start the album’s opener, “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” and instill an aggressive rhythmic foundation that the entire record follows. Bono’s powerful lyrics expressively channel both his evident frustration and pertinent hope throughout this well-known single. The whole assembly of the members’ efforts unite exceptionally well, especially the blend of The Edge’s fierce guitar cries and Adam Clayton’s rebellious bass lines. The band’s solidarity is equally evident in the succeeding track, “Seconds.” Harmonic layering is the cornerstone here, blending confident guitar strums, stirring bass parts, and overpowering vocal harmony. Nuclear proliferation is the main issue tackled in this distressed creation. It’s an incredible, yet somehow lesser known, U2 masterpiece.

Another popular U2 song, “New Year’s Day” is next on the setlist, and it’s just as applicable and influential in this era as it was in 1983.

The version included on the album is not the radio version; meaning, it is about two minutes longer than the version you may be used to hearing. This original take has a lesser-known extended chorus and third verse, both of which are just as essential to the understanding of the song as the other lyrics. Anyhow, the song is a dark, anthemic ballad of sorts, combining passionate political statements with emotional, lovelorn vows. The Edge’s meticulous transitions between guitar and piano envelop the lister in an avant-garde ambience in accordance with the song’s heavy message.

“Like a Song…” is not just like a song, it’s a very erudite declaration about “stak[ing] our claim” and starting “revolution once again.” Appropriately unsettling melody lines poetically describe the endless anguish that the speaker is experiencing. Again, all four members execute their well-written parts with magnificent proficiency. The staggeringly haunting “Drowning Man” is full of olde, gothic soundscapes and stunning vocal virtuosity, and is highlighted with angelic choir-esque proclamations and explosive rhythmic decor. Although it is a quieter piece, it is no less urgent or artistically distraught.

“The Refugee” is an inventive recording, propelled by tinny percussion and intensified by methodically-placed, vocal volume twists. Bono’s thoughts are again relatable and noticeably explicative, incorporating historical, immigration-related statements, which put the listener in the shoes of the “refugee” character. The track is heavily promoted by Larry Mullen Jr.’s hostile percussion arrangement and the Edge’s scratchy guitar benefaction.

Next is “Two Hearts Beat as One,” a dance-y offering with the lyrics of a legitimate ballad and the melody of a heartfelt rocker. It’s something of a lyrical relief from the string of previous tracks’ political statements, and its position in the tracklist is ideal. It’s creative, melodic, amiable, and catchy in the least “pop”-y way possible. ”Red Light” follows, featuring muddy bass and effective guitar parts that fuel the distant drums and passionately executed vocals. Obviously, the words here deal with the same kind of “red light” that The Police’s “Roxanne” does; a certain “street trade.” This change of lyrical course sends the album flow back into its dismal outpour of pity and helplessness, while the music confirms this with a sarcastically lively brass solo.

Finally, “Surrender” arrives. “She tried to be a good girl and a good wife / Raise a family / Lead a good life / It’s not good enough /  She got herself up on the 48th floor / Gotta find out what she’s living for” is a fair summary of the lyrical content. The aching demand of “Surrender / Surrender” resonates with dark imminence and approaching tragedy. The band lays it all out here; musically and lyrically.

A quiet “40″ closes the record, short and suppressed, tranquil and reflective. The words of Psalm 40 are the lyrical basis, and rightly so; “I will sing / Sing a new song / I will sing / Sing a new song / How long to sing this song? / How long to sing this song?” An absolutely divine track, and fitting in so many ways.
Words don’t really do a lot of good here to describe such a song.

If you’re not left speechless after your first listen, then maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you that it wants more. An obvious, perfect score for an obviously classic album.

The name Pete Yorn may or may not immediately register with you, the reader, but now that you’ve seen it in ink, don’t let it slip away from you. Yorn’s first record, musicforthemorningafter, is his most critically acclaimed, and his second album, Day I Forgot, is also a substantially successful release. His third album, Nightcrawler, is the one I want to discuss with you in this issue. It was released in 2006 and received both significantly positive and regrettably negative reviews.

“Vampyre,” the first track on the disc, launches the listener into the heart of Nightcrawler. With hair-raising melody lines and eerie lyrics, the song sets a dramatically dark scene and establishes the overcast tone of the record. The song consists of mainly Yorn and his tone-rich acoustic guitar, eventually picking up to a subtle march, and then concluding with frantic, straining vocal repetition.

Standout tracks include the fiery, upbeat single, “For Us,” the relaxing, folky number, “The Man,” the inquisitively cryptic “How Do You Go On?,” the optimistic anthem, “Alive,” and a song Yorn wrote for the Spider-Man soundtrack called “Undercover.” Each of these has significant melodic appeal, while still leaving room for expressive arrangements and evocative lyrics.

Yorn’s poetic, romantic side shines through brilliantly on late-album track “Ice Age,” which boasts some of the most powerful lyrics on the album. “Throw your arms around my neck / And whisper softly / Of a thing that we will get / I’m asking you / Let your diamond bracelet fall / Over the ice age” is just a tiny sample of the illustrative text in the song. 

Another impressive track on Nightcrawler is “Policies,” a vague-ish political rocker with scintillating harmonies and appositely intertwining guitar bits. It’s noticeably uptempo and energetic, while still being controlled enough to harbor some mysterious lyrical diversions (”Hey, boy, are you cut with that? / I’ve gone over / I crossed over..”).

The remainder of the album is also satisfactory, from the eclectic “Georgie Boy” to the painfully straight-forward “Same Thing.” Every tune is clearly a Pete Yorn creation, forging his tough but rich vocals with products of his far-reaching imagination.

Not to say there aren’t so-so moments in the record. “Broken Bottle” is a dreary drag, emphasized by Yorn’s distinctively indifferent vocal performance. “Splendid Isolation” has the unfortunate feel of a filler track, proffering a stale chord progression and simplistic lyrics.

All in all though, Nightcrawler contends nicely with musicforthemorningafter and is an obvious improvement from Day I Forgot. It will likely take a few listens to truly acclimatize oneself to some of the slower tracks, but once you catch onto one song, the majority of the set follows quite naturally.

Matthew Hales, otherwise known as the notorious Aqualung, has put out a handful of critically-hailed releases in his short musical career. A UK-native, Hales became a huge success on his English home turf before spreading his powerful tracks to the U.S., Japan, and other lands, where he also quickly rose to prominence. Memory Man is the second Aqualung record to be released both in and outside of Europe. 

If you’re not yet aquatinted with Hales’s majestic creativity, a fair place to start would be with key single, “Pressure Suit.” Even on first intake, “Suit” grips the listener with a hypnotic rhythmic arrangement, stimulating memories and forgotten emotions. The musical palette bravely illustrates the descriptive lyrics with conscious ease; “drift out into darkness / Lost out on horizon / It’s alright / It’s alright.” It’s melodically tasteful and artistically solid, reinforcing its rightful place as a single.

The dissonant piano tones in “Cinderella” masterfully build the stage for the “ticking of time bombs for poor Cinderella,” and are followed eagerly by a dark choir and reckless percussion. As dramatic as it may seem, it’s still respectably authentic and admirably original. “Something to Believe In” features one of the catchiest tunes on the album, but it’s definitely not excessive or cliché in any form. It’s instant, yet enduring, summoning the listener back for innumerable repeat listens.

Hales’s co-production value is noticeable and appreciable on the entire album, but especially so on the eclectic “Glimmer,” the spine-chilling “The Lake,” the intimate “Broken Bones,” and the dreamy “Rolls So Deep.” Hales has a flawless taste for tones, and every instrument used gets his full attention and treatment. Basically, it’s what every creative musician should do, but typically doesn’t, setting Aqualung far ahead of similar-sounding imitators.

Memory Man contains many other great tracks; “Vapour Trail”  (a mid-tempo reflection tune), “Black Hole” (a tasty, spacey creation), and the updated, acoustic rendition of “Another Little Hole.”

In saying this, Memory Man is not all at once instantaneous, but when the listener does eventually slip into Hales’s “black hole” of imagination and artistry, the album becomes an unstoppable force to be reckoned with. So much so, that even two years after its initial release, it still maintains tremendous amounts of aesthetic musical beauty and charming ingenuity. Bottom line; it gets better with each listen, and trust me, you’ll want to take the time to play it from start to finish many, many times.

/ Posted: Feb 03, 2009
/ Written by: Matt S.
/ Category: Rediscovery
/ Artist(s): Aqualung, Pete Yorn, U2