Meet Titus Andronicus: a band from Bruce Springsteen’s state,
named after a bloody Shakespeare play, who has toured with the Pogues and
F--ked Up, whose new album, 10 years into their existence, is a 93-minute “rock
opera in five acts” (double CD, triple vinyl) about manic depression. (Not
surprisingly, considering that cumulative context, that Owen Pallett shows up
as one of many guests.)
The Most Lamentable
Tragedy
is likely to be the most ambitious rock album you’ll hear this year, and not
just because of its epic length: unlike, say, F—ked Up’ David Comes to Life, there is a real range of mood, melody and
dynamics. There are Celtic interludes, there are shades of Black Sabbath and
Black Flag and boogie rock and ballads and lo-fi Daniel Johnson weirdness (as
well as a Johnson cover)—hell, there’s even a choral rendition of “Auld Lang
Syne.” “Let
me show you my fatal flaw,” a lyric that could easily be set to a crybaby emo
anthem, is instead a rollicking chorus with crowd sing-alongs in mind—group
therapy, if you will. It’s recorded raw and, based entirely on the evidence presented
here, Titus Andronicus are no doubt one of the greatest live rock’n’roll bands
on the circuit today.
And yet: why do I feel pandered to? Perhaps it’s because I grew
up on second-hand classic rock records and I once saw Joe Strummer front the
Pogues and I saw early Constantines shows where they channelled their love of
Springsteen with their hardcore punk background. Perhaps I feel like Titus
Andronicus is for 23-year-olds who’ve never known what a smart, soul-stirring,
sweaty rock’n’roll band actually looks and sounds like—or, alternately, for
43-year-olds who’ve worn out their Hold Steady and Weakerthans records.
As the relentless name-dropping in this review might indicate,
Titus Andronicus check off a lot of boxes for people who once read Rolling Stone or Trouser Press record guides. Meanwhile, the likes of Sleater-Kinney
and Alabama Shakes and Courtney Barnett have also made incredible records in
2015 that draw extensively from the past yet don’t feel stuck in it—that might
be because all three write from long-marginalized positions, it might just be a
crazy coincidence, or it might just be my own subjective taste. Objectively
speaking however, there’s nothing lamentable or tragic about Titus Andronicus:
this is a fantastic record (or three). (Aug. 13)
Titus Andronicus play Toronto's Horseshoe Tavern on Oct. 13.
Download: “Fatal Flaw,” “Dimed Out,” “Lonely Boy”
Torres – Sprinter (Arts and Crafts)
For years, the fallout of ’90s grunge manifested itself in the
likes of muscular macho dudes in Nickelback or Audioslave, or, on the flipside,
musicians who mistake a distortion pedal and sloppiness for soul. Who was going
to redeem the real legacy of Nirvana, of the Breeders, of PJ Harvey, of the
weirdoes who whispered and howled and had eerie pop melodies under crushing
electric guitars?
This year we found the answer. “I like
the comfort in knowing that women are the only future in rock and roll,” Kurt
Cobain once said, and in 2015 we’ve seen incredible, inspiring rock records by
26-year-old Courtney Barnett, 25-year-old Alicia Bognanno of Nashville band
Bully, and now 24-year-old Mackenzie Scott, who performs and records as Torres.
Torres’s second album has a direct lineage to the time period
with which her music is closely aligned: Sprinter is produced by PJ Harvey
drummer Rob Ellis, and there are more than a few resemblances to Harvey’s 1992
debut Dry—which Scott had never heard
before she shipped over to Britain to record with Ellis and Portishead
guitarist Adrian Utley.
But enough about everyone else: let’s talk about Torres (whose
stage name always reminds me of Bring It
On; think about it). Scott was born and raised in Macon, Georgia, escaped
to Nashville to start her music career, and now resides in Brooklyn. Her
Baptist upbringing looms large over her lyrics—and her vocal delivery; this
young woman sings with weary wisdom well beyond her years. “There’s freedom to
and freedom from,” she sings, “freedom to run from everyone,” and much of Sprinter is about running away from sour
situations and grappling with unresolved emotional baggage.
Sprinter is very much about
one woman’s journey, but there’s nothing here that reeks of the confessional or
extremely personal; Scott is a mature writer who leaves us layers to peel back
that lead to our own interpretations. Her music, too, ranges from the hammering
and visceral to delicate and deliberate dramatics—the sparse, haunting and
harrowing closer “The Exchange,” recorded solo on a Zoom recorder, is
devastating. If she hadn’t made an impression already, that seals the deal. (Aug.
20)
Download: “Sprinter,” “New Skin,” “Strange Hellos”
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