The public television show Nova Science Now will have an interesting segment tonight on Auto-Tune, the program used by music producers to sweeten the vocals of many performers by putting their warbling notes back on pitch. It's not much of a factor -- I don't think -- in the music I listen to, but in pop, R 'n' B and hip hop music, its use is rampant. Some use it subtly to keep someone who is more pretty than talented from sounding off-key, while others use it blatantly to create new sounds and textures. The first time most folks heard it, however unknowingly, was on Cher's hit, "Believe."

Hip hop artists seem to be the most prevalent users/offenders. Some, like T-Pain, use it consistently to create a new sound, while Kanye West used it all over his recent 808s and Heartbreak disc to "sing." Sasha Frere-Jones with the New Yorker looks at the program's use in a recent essay.

The backlash is already well underway. Jay-Z will have a track on his forthcoming album called "D.O.A. (Death of Auto-Tune)," that criticizes those who lean on the program. The song's producer? Kanye West.

The Nova segment will provide some valuable context. How does it work? Why was it created? What is the result of its use? An example featuring some very accommodating Nova staffers and "The Star Spangled Banner" shows how completely -- and spookily -- Auto-Tune can be utilized.

Labels: music, technology

Many people probably left the Church behind sometime around the fadeout of "Under the Milky Way." Given the path the band has taken since, it's members are probably OK with that. And those fair-weather fans? It's definitely their loss.

Thirteen albums after the band's breakthrough with Starfish, the group has issued its best album in a decade or more. That album, Untitled #23, is the band's 23rd, and it is proof positive that acts with a deep enough creative well can continue to make music for years and years that sounds of a piece with its back catalog while mining new territory.

Untitled #23 makes no compromises. There is no single here, no uptempo rocker to throw radio's way. These dense soundscapes don't even necessarily stand out one from another until the orientation afforded by several listens takes hold. But it is a stellar effort despite those challenges. Things begin and end in two places: Steve Kilbey's one-of-a-kind vocals and the chiming guitar interplay between Marty Wilson-Piper and Peter Koppes. Those are the touchstones that let even the casual listener know that this is a Church record.

These songs glide rather than punch, insinuate rather than declare. Kilbey's vocal is still the focus, but Koppes and Wilson-Piper are willing to let their sinewy guitar lines wash over the listener in a gauzy tapestry while Tim Powles' drums nudge things along. Some have stronger hooks than others -- you''ll sing along with "Pangea," for example -- while others are more about setting a mood.

It's a great time to be a Church fan. Never mind that on an album-by-album basis the band is on a roll (2006's Uninvited, Like the Clouds was another fantastic album), but the musicians have been particularly prolific of late. The Church itself has added to the 10 tracks on Uninvited #23 with six extra tracks spread over two new EPs. "Pangea" gets its own EP with three non-LP B-sides (including one each by Wilson-Piper and Koppes, as well as an 18-minute bliss-out called "So Love May Find Us"), while the Coffee Hounds EP includes vocal and instrumental versions of "The Coffee Song" as well as a cover of Kate Bush's "The Hounds of Love."

Kilbey and Wilson-Piper also each have recent, well-received solo albums: Wilson-Piper's Nightjar and Kilbey's Painkiller. In addition, Kilbey is the latest collaborator in Pocket's series of digital EPs, contributing vocals to the track "Hear in Noiseville." The song offers a dancier context than Kilbey usually inhabits, but Pocket's dense songbed offers a warm seam that Kilbey fills with his distinctive vocal. It's on Pocket's forthcoming third EP in the series (the first was with Robyn Hitchcock) and is due July 21.

The band's "So Love May Find Us" tour continues through the second week of July in the U.S. in Canada. Kilbey took time out from all of that to offer a few enigmatic responses to some straight-forward questions. Anyone seeking more of this type of Kilbey-speak would do well to check out his fascinating blog, where you can find it in abundance. For those seeking a look at the band in performance, the group's visit to KCRW's "Morning Becomes Eclectic" show can be found here.

TIRBD: Moving soon into your fourth decade, how are you able to keep things fresh when you approach material that you've played for 10, 20 or even 30 years?

SK: good material is always fresh.

By the same token, having created music together for 30 years, do new ideas come from a different place than in the past? Is it an effort to ensure that something that feels new isn't simply a restatement of something that came before?

we build on the past.
who can tell where ideas come from...?
the heart and the mind as always

Untitled #23 feels like a very cohesive statement with a remarkably consistent tone. Were things left in the studio that didn't fit that feel, or did everything come together this week organically from the outset?

we recorded a lotta stuff
lotta stuff still in can
we are very random

Your music is cited as an influence on bands whose members weren't even alive when you formed the band. Do you hear a Church vibe in current music? Are you, in turn, influenced by newer music?

i rarely hear an influence from us in other bands
i doubt a new band would influence me at this stage of the game

You and Marty each have several solo albums to your names, and I wonder how these outlets ultimately affect the work of the Church? Are they a release valve, a way to experiment, or perhaps something else?

my records are what i do on my own
i have no different approach whatever i do
i just do whatever strikes me at the time

You each also excel at the visual arts. Beyond having built-in cover art for releases (Marty's photos and drawings on Untitled #23 and Nightjar, respectively) and your painting on Painkiller), what does this outlet do for you that making music does not? Does one inform the other in any way?

yes visual n musical art come from a similar methodology but have
different physical applications
you gotta get au fait with the visual world
think shadow instead of echo
think background instead of backing track

As you embark on a U.S. tour in support of the new album, what will the set lists look like? With 23 albums to your credit, is it difficult to fit in everything you want to play -- and the fans want to hear -- each night?

impossible to play one song from every album even
we just have to figure out a set that hits all bases

Labels: Monday Interview, music

It's no surprise that Beck has found a way to use technology to communicate directly with his fans and offer some exclusive content. A web site revamp allowed him to focus on a new project he's calling Record Club. It's a straight-forward concept: He gathers some friends in the recording studio, and they cover an album in one day. He'll upload a track to the site once a week. That's it.

First up: The Velvet Underground's The Velvet Underground & Nico (the one with Andy Warhol's banana on the cover for neophytes). Beck and friends --producer Nigel Godrich, drummer Joey Waronker, Brian Lebarton, Bram Inscore, Yo, actor Giovanni Ribisi, Chris Holmes, and "from Iceland, special guest Thorunn Magnusdottir" -- do a fine, reverent job with opener "Sunday Morning" (see clip below).

Beck talks about the process on the site: "An album will be chosen to be reinterpreted and used as a framework. Nothing rehearsed or arranged ahead of time." He also reports that the Velvet Underground album was selected "after lengthy deliberation and coming close to covering Digital Underground's Sex Packets."

Ostensibly this means that we can expect "Waiting For the Man" next week, with album-closing "European Son" the last week of August.

Record Club: Velvet Underground & Nico 'Sunday Morning' from Beck Hansen on Vimeo.

Labels: music, video, web

Ten years ago today, the June 21 & 28, 1999 issue of the New Yorker hit the mailbox (yes, we get it late out here in flyover country). It was the fiction issue, though this one came with a twist: It identified 20 writers who were dubbed "The Future of American Fiction."

The list: Sherman Alexie, Donald Antrim, Ethan Canin, Michael Chabon, Edwidge Danticat, Junot Diaz, Tony Earley, Nathan Englander, Jeffrey Eugenidies, Jonathan Franzen, Allegra Goodman, A.M. Homes, Matthew Klam, Jhumpa Lahiri, Chang-Rae Lee, Rick Moody, Antonya Nelson, George Saunders, William T. Vollmann and David Foster Wallace.

With 10 years of hindsight, how did they do? Pretty well. There is one bona fied star in Chabon, several winners of prestigious prizes who also have bestsellers to their names (Eugenidies, Diaz and Lahiri) and plenty of critically acclaimed authors like Moody and Saunders. The late Wallace seems to deserve his own place as someone who, at one time or another, fit all three of those categories.

What is most striking, however, are the names that at one time seemed to guarantee excitement but which today sent me to Wikipedia to determine when their last publication occurred. Could Klam really not have published anything since 2000's Sam the Cat? Whatever happened to Englander? Or Antrim?

My own biases/myopia/limited tastes play a part to be sure. I know Goodman is a big name, but have never read a word beyond the story included here. I'm completely unfamiliar with the work of Nelson or Danticat, but know each has legions of fans.

As with all such lists, the most interesting thing is to look at who made it and who didn't. In the opening Talk of the Town essay in the issue, "Reading Ahead," then Fiction Editor Bill Buford writes that the magazine "set out to answer the question, 'Who are the 20 best young fiction writers in America today?' Does best mean 'most promising' or 'most accomplished'? We settled on a definition that includes both senses, and tried to accommodate the obvious names and the not-so-obvious."

They did limit themselves by considering only American authors age 40 and under. Even at the outset there was hedging, or at least a healthy caveat that admits such lists are dubious exercises. Such a list in 1899, Buford writes, would not have included Willa Cather or Edith Warton or Theodore Dreiser or Jack London or... you get the point.

Anyone could make a compelling argument for or against nearly all of the picks on the list, though one omission did strike me as odd. Tellingly, there is an ad for Stewart O'Nan's Prayers for the Dying on the bio page that lists the 20 who made the cut. O'Nan's output since would certainly merit strong consideration, as would that of a couple dozen other authors who were not selected.

A close look at the list shows that the magazine wasn't exactly taking chances with its choices. By 1999, Chabon had already published Wonder Boys and was at work on The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay; Moody had penned three novels, incluing The Ice Storm and Purple America; and Vollmann had published nine works of fiction. Then again, Diaz had published just one story collection, and Lahiri's The Interpreter of Maladies, which went on to win the Pulitzer Prize, had just been published.

There was precedent, too. Granta published its own list of the Best Young American Novelists in 1996, with six overlapping with the New Yorker list (Alexie, Canin, Danticat, Earley, Eugenidies and Franzen). Some obvious omissions from the New Yorker list, including O'Nan and Lorrie Moore, are present here.

Hindsight offers some comedy. Buford writes about the novel being "Oprahed," something selectee Franzen would learn about firsthand more than a year later when his book, The Corrections was selected for the TV star's vaunted book club. He expressed misgivings, she rescinded the invitation, and the book club's relationship with modern literary fiction (and, it seems, the populace's view of it) was never the same.

It was clearly a different time. The Talk of the Town piece that follows Buford's looks at Karl Rove, already being called "Bush's Brain," and the machinations he had under way that seemed to point to a presidential bid by the then-Texas governor. The Internet was nowhere near the force it is now, (there are actual ads without URLs at the bottom) and publishers still paid large advances and sent their authors on long book tours.

A good story is a good story, regardless of the time or contest, and many here are are top notch, making the issue a very compelling read. The only vexing thing is that five authors' stories are only teased, and appeared in each of the next five issues of the magazine. Actually, that's not the only vexing thing. As is too often the case with the New Yorker, at least five of these so-called short stories are actually novel excepts (such as Chabon's "The Hofzinser Club") though not billed as such.

In the end, the issue provides an interesting lens through which to view the turn of the century literary fiction landscape, capturing, fairly effectively, the consensus critical picks for success. Not all of those selected would be included on a list that sought to gather the best writers of the past decade, but all 20 moved forward from this point with significant work. We can be disappointed that Franzen has yet to follow up his 2001 novel, or that Earley has managed just one post-Jim the Boy novel this decade, but prolific folks like Alexie and Chabon somewhat make up for it.

Summing up his Talk of the Town piece, Buford seems to foresee the divergent futures of the chosen ones. "What is the future of American fiction We can't know. But the Polaroid of this generation, snapped as the century turns, offers a satisfying picture of a highly accomplished group of writers robustly taking on the stories of their Americanness."

Below is a list of the included stories along with their eventual home under the author's name. Those listed as "uncollected" may have appeared in anthologies, but have not been issued in a book by the author to the best of my knowledge.

"I Can Speak!TM" George Saunders, In Persuasion Nation
"Asset," David Foster Wallace, uncollected
"The Toughest Indian in the World" by Sherman Alexie, The Toughest Indian in the World
"Hawaiian Night," Rick Moody, Demonology
"Raft in Water, Floating," A.M. Homes, Things You Should Know
"The Local Production of Cinderella," Allegra Goodman, uncollected
"The Saviors," William T. Vollmann, part of the novel Europe Central
"Party of One," Antonya Nelson, Nothing Right
"The Volunteers," Chang-Rae Lee, uncollected
"The Hofzinser Club," Michael Chabon, excerpt from The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay
"Vins Fins," Ethan Canin, uncollected
"An Actor Prepares," Donald Antrim, uncollected
"The Wide Sea," Tony Early, excerpt from Jim the Boy
"The Oracular Vulva," Jeffrey Eugenidies, excerpt from Middlesex
"OtraVida, OtraVez," Junot Diaz, uncollected
"The Failure," Jonathan Franzen, excerpt from The Corrections
"The Book of the Dead," Edwidge Danticat, The Dew Breaker
"The Third and Final Continent," Jhumpa Lahiri, The Interpreter of Maladies
"Peep Show," Nathan Englander, uncollected
"Issues I Dealt With in Therapy," Matthew Klam, Sam the Cat

Labels: books, criticism, magazines

I don't throw something like this around lightly, but Deer Tick may be the band to finally take up the mantle laid down by the Replacements. First things first: the two bands sound nothing alike. There have been plenty of gravel-throated pretenders to Paul Westerberg's throne who fronted grungy rock combos. What I'm talking about here is something more: an attitude mixed with talent to burn that yields a restlessness channeled through a fried microphone and a battered amp.

When drawing the line between the two bands, it probably didn't hurt that singer John Joseph McCauley III invoked the 'Mats during the band's show last night at the Mill in Iowa City. After the quartet took a quick spin through the first portion of Fleetwood Mac's "The Chain" (the second cover of a young set; the second song was Tom Petty's "Breakdown"), McCauley laughed and said, "We're turning into the Replacements here." The amazing thing is that McCauley, in his early 20s, probably wasn't even born yet when the definitive document of that version of the Replacements, The Shit Hits the Fans -- the cassette of a drunken Replacements tearing through a sloppy set of covers during 1984 show -- was released. That, and subsequent covers of John Prine, John Cougar Mellencamp, the Rolling Stones, Bruce Springsteen, Buck Owens and Richie Valens, show these musicians are old souls wrapped in young bodies. Sound like anyone else you know?

So, what does Deer Tick sound like if it doesn't sound like the 'Mats? The Rhode Island band's own web site seems puzzled: "They have been labeled things like alt-country, and freak folk, which the band finds a little weird. Are things like 'alt' and 'freak' necessary to describe Deer Tick? Deer Tick doesn't think so." At times, McCauley sounds like Neutral Milk Hotel's Jeff Magnum, his voice having that same timbre and rattle. But his band leans much more south and west, able to conjure a hoedown on a dime, singing sweet, full harmonies all the while. It's an intoxicating mix made all the more potent by the fact that these are clearly kids who are learning every day and getting a kick out of showing off their new chops.

The band's debut, War Elephant, showed promise, but McCauley recorded everything himself and that makes for a somewhat claustrophobic listen. Those songs live had true power, particularly when it came to the vocals. And the new material, on the forthcoming Born on Flag Day (due next week) is even better.

I'm late to the party, but was happy to catch up quickly. For more about the band, you can check out this interview with NBC's Brian Williams:

Labels: music

So, despite raising more than $166,000 from fans and friends last month Paste magazine is downsizing. Literally. The magazine is about the size of the old TV Guide, though shorter, with only 46 pages. Publisher Nick Purdy writes that the full-size magazine has shifted to a once-every-two-months schedule, with smaller, single-topic issues to "tide you over" in between. "We've designed these mini-magazines to include a surprising amount of good stuff -- because after all, it''s the content that matters, not the size of the paper."

Of course, it is the size of the paper. Though Purdy is right in saying that the issue packs a surprising amount of content into its 46 mini pages, it's a fraction of what it offers in even the most ad-strapped, thin full-size issues of yore. It's a pamphlet, essentially. The magazine started out with a publication schedule not much different that it has now, so I'm unsure about the need for these mini-issues. It can't be advertising; there are only about 13 pages of ads here, which for a 46-page issue is pretty paltry ad support.

As it is, the magazine seems to be pushing subscribers away from print. A huge ad (well, as huge as you can get with 5 1/2"x8" page) for the magazine's digital subscription touts two options: Digital Paste for 99 cents a month, or Digital VIP Paste, for $2.99 monthly. The first gets you the digital edition and the right to download the music sampler, the other offers two samplers, other MP3s, access to the digital archive, a T-shirt and other goodies. Oh, and if you want to get the magazine as, you know, a magazine? "Physical copies of the magazine and sampler, of course, are available as options. More information online." "Hey, caveman, we don't want to print and mail this thing, all right? Just enter a credit card number and save a tree!"

This isn't unique. Good magazine (a non-music title) published a similar-sized "recession issue" this spring to announce it's own reduction in frequency, while Blender magazine decided to go online-only around that same time (while Blurt, which moved online after the demise of Harp, actually moved back into print for at least one issue).

I've never been a huge fan of Paste -- it's a little too NPR, Dad-rock friendly for me -- and this move does nothing to change my mind. If I want to read about music online, there are plenty of places to do so. If I want to read good, long-form music criticism surrounded by interesting photos printed on paper, the number of outlets is dwindling.

Labels: magazines, music

J. Robert Lennon has a new novel out, and it's about time. About time that someone finally stepped up to publish him, that is. You see, he has written books since 2003's Mailman. Four of them, in fact. But for those of us in the U.S. -- you know, his home country -- it has been difficult to read any of it.

First came Pieces for the Left Hand, a brilliant collection of 100 very short stories, each written while his child took a 45-minute nap. Granta in the UK saw fit to publish it in 2005, and those of us lucky enough at the time to score an imported copy reveled in its incisive, hilarious prose. Next came Happyland, a novel deemed too dangerous by Lennon's publisher due to the similarity between its subject and the founder of the American Girl doll company. That was shortened and serialized in Harper's magazine. I've yet to read it, because I want to read the entire book when someone wises up and puts it out. After that came a crime novel that Lennon had yet to publish. Finally, he brought forth Castle, officially his fifth novel, published this spring by Graywolf Press. Graywolf also brought out a U.S. edition of Pieces for the Left Hand, which brings us up to date.

I interviewed Lennon for a piece on CorridorBuzz.com to preview his reading in Iowa City on Tuesday. As usual, I asked about more than could possibly fit in the piece, and planned to run the rest here. But I love Lennon's work, and wanted to give him as much publicity as possible, so I sent a few more questions his way and turned this into a full-blown Monday Interview.

Before we get to that, however, a bit more from the original interview. We touch on many of these points more fully in the Q&A that follows. For example, I asked him about the idea of self-publishing, particularly the crime novel. He said he has considered it, even considered putting it out as an ebook only. But he said he wants to hold out for the possibility of it coming out in physical form from a real publisher.

"I really like working with a publisher," he said. "There's probably some kind of taint to self publishing, if you do that you have succumbed and are perceived as a low-class operation. However, I don’t think most readers give a crap where the book is coming from. They just want it to be good. Still, I want to stay in the good graces of the people I work with in publishing."

We also talked about politics. His novel, Castle, makes reference to the Iraq war, and he has said that Happyland was his take on "Rovian" politics. I asked if the Obama administration would cool the fires that fueled these works. He said politics isn't obsessing him the way it once was, but added that "it's a danger to thinking that the Obama administration is going to be a cure-all. I haven’t totally approved of everything Obama has done, but when I disagreed with Bush, I felt there was a maliciousness, I felt like they were sticking it to me, felt there was malicious intent. With Obama, I really do think he's trying to act in the best interest of the citizens he’s serving."

Castle is set in upstate New York, where Lennon lives. So was Mailman. Other of his books were set in Montana, where he earned his MFA. I asked if setting books in the places he has lived was a matter of convenience, or if the stories he wanted to tell needed to be set there.

"It's not so much a convenience, but I enjoy finding inspiration in the place that I’m at. Upstate New York is not not remote, but it is fairly isolated. If you go for a walk in the woods and you feel like you’re in the middle of nowhere, but you'll find the remains of a barn foundation. There was someone there before you."

That led to a discussion of the way he proscribes a world for his stories, and whether that makes it easier or more difficult to then tell the tale. He said he loves to create worlds in his work, and mentioned the subculture he created in The Funnies. His second novel was about the son of a famous cartoonist who inherits his father's strip after his death. Lennon said he did some research, but the subculture he writes about was largely invented. "I kind of like that. You narrow the possibilities. It's like writing a sonnet. The fact that you’ve hemmed yourself in a little, you’re free in that space."

Lastly, I asked a question I've never seen asked of Lennon. His name, as it is probably not too difficult to guess is John, meaning he grew up with the name of one of pop culture's most revered artists. I asked if it was difficult to be an artist (and, as we talk about below, a musician) with such an iconic name.

"Not anymore really. The worst thing was that I really liked him and liked the Beatles. I used to have little round glasses. I told myself it had nothing to do with John Lennon, I just liked the glasses." he said. "For the most part I just caught a lot of crap from other kids when I was growing up. I don't think it's made any difference at all."

I asked if his parents every talked about giving him such a charged name. He was born in 1970, at the height of Lennon's fame. He was named, he said, for his grandfather, also named John Lennon. Another grandfather was Robert, which means his pen name allows him to honor that grandfather in the same way the name everyone calls him, John, does.

"Later they told me they thought it might be kind of fun for me, which was a sad miscalculation," he said. "But I’m proud to be named after my grandfather."

On to the Q&A...

TIRBD: We talked a bit about self-publishing before. You have self-released a handful of CDs of your music. Has that experience made you more or less likely to do the same with your writing at some point?

JRL: Perhaps someday, but I prefer working with a publisher. Promotion and distribution are hard, and I would rather spend my time writing. I did put a bunch of obscure writing up on my website recently -- quite a lot of articles and stories, few of which are likely to ever find their way into book form. Maybe I should gin up an e-book. But the last thing I need right now is another geeky project.

You said that you were not very politically active before the Bush administration, but that you’ve since addressed it, however obliquely at times, in your writing. How else has that activism manifested itself?

The usual ways - -donating money, complaining on the Internet, getting into tense conversations with relatives. I've had to find a way to channel my anger and dismay into useful activities, and writing has been the main thing. I'm a little more comfortable now that Obama's at the helm, though, so perhaps I can relax a bit.

You wrote the pieces in Pieces for the Left Hand during your child’s short naps, a lemonade-from-lemons endeavor if ever there was one. Now that your kids are older and presumably have indentured you, how has that affected your writing schedule? Does having kids affect the way you look at the world through your writing?

Oh, sure, the world is very different once you've had kids, or gone through any major life change, for that matter. My kids don't disrupt my writing schedule at all anymore -- they go to school, and are pretty self-sufficient, and have their own interests to work on. Luckily we share some interests, otherwise we'd never see each other! Our family is rather preoccupied most of the time.

How has it been working with a smaller publisher like Graywolf Press as opposed to a larger publisher like W.W. Norton?

Great! They publish fewer books and so have the luxury of caring more about each. Graywolf has been extremely attentive to me, my editor is a superb reader, and the books have gotten more attention than anything I've written in years -- I like this situation a lot.

You clearly get into music recording on a micro level, from creating your own instruments to writing about recording techniques in Tape Op magazine. Is there a parallel between that and the micro level of looking at writing afforded by the teaching you do at Cornell?

Absolutely -- I am a major nerd in all respects, both in my hobbies and of course my writing and teaching. I love getting a new stack of manuscripts and digging in, discovering what kind of conversations I'm going to get to have the next day. I can be a little too proscriptive with my advice, though, as a result -- I have to learn to hint! There aren't many bad student stories that can't be turned into something good; it's like trying to solve a puzzle with the class.

Do you write short fiction at the same time you’re immersed in a novel, or do you need to complete one thing before starting another?

Usually I keep them separate, but sometimes I get a story idea when I'm in novel mode and I have to put everything aside and go for it. This just happened recently. It's a good feeling, actually finishing something when you're in the middle of a two-year project... I should probably do it more often.

Labels: books, Monday Interview, music