American Idiot
GREEN DAY
Reprise
It's now been a month since Green Day's allegorical little rock opera was released, and I'm very glad I didn't review the album a week after the advance copy came in. Initially, I couldn't stand the thing, partly because it wasn't what I wanted in a Green Day record and partly because I thought most of the more down-tempo songs sucked, but mostly because I wasn't listening to it correctly — I was resistant to the idea of dealing with the album in its proper context. After weeks of living with it, however, the specific nature of American Idiot is a given, and the enjoyment I derive from the disc has increased exponentially. You see, American Idiot isn't a concept album or a theme album or a bunch of very Green Day songs surrounding a few not very Green Day songs, linked by a few names and a few ideas.
What American Idiot is, is a musical without the visuals.
It doesn't flow like an album, it flows like a particularly energetic Broadway production. The band's loose, fanbase-resonant storyline (something about a typically disaffected suburban American kid who, in his efforts to rebel against that culture, becomes both a meal for and ironic symbol of said culture) follows that emotional and narrative format as closely as Friends followed a sitcom template that's been in place for decades. Musicals trade in straightforward lyrics; simple melodic hooks; familiar, even cliched, images and emotional triggers; and big dynamics. Green Day has always done the same, to a certain extent, but American Idiot finds the band augmenting its traditional game plan for much bigger — and occasionally far out-of-character — highs and lows.
There are more than a handful of tunes that work their simple, fast 'n' catchy formula to tremendous payoff (the title track, "St. Jimmy," "She's a Rebel," "Letterbomb"), but they're laid in where the story arc calls for sharp details in a bigger, if not necessarily more complex, picture. Long-time fans may balk over the Who-esque quick-change arrangements of subdivided tracks like "Jesus of Suburbia"; the moments of near-camp, Ziggy Stardust-by-way-of-Hedwig emotional hyperbole; and the conspicuously skin-deep pseudo-ballads ("Boulevard of Broken Dreams," "Give Me Novacaine," "Wake Me When September Comes").
These elements need to be there, though, to evoke the story, to alternately keep things moving and slow things down. In that context, a superficially sub-par track like "Wake Me When September Comes" becomes not just tolerable, but apt.
Fans can certainly make a mix-CD of American Idiot's numerous blazing pop tunes, and come up with something that rivals their favorite disc from the Green Day back catalog. But those who give the whole record a little time will discover something much more, and much more engrossing — an ambitious, nicely executed experiment in musical narrative with far more high points than low. 
—SCOTT HARRELL
Half-Smiles of the Decomposed
GUIDED BY VOICES
Matador
Soon-to-be-defunct Guided By Voices fades out with a reflective and solid, if not rousing, release. Half-Smiles of the Decomposed is imbued with a melancholy that dilutes GBV's heady mixture of British Invasion and prog rock. The good news is that the disc does deliver its share of highlights. Overall, it's more melodic and pleasant than its predecessor, Earthquake Glue, even if it's not the big bang we'd like to see the band go out with. "Everyone Thinks I'm a Raincloud (When I'm Not Looking)" and "Sleep Over Jack" offer up catchy phrasings and groovy rave-ups. "Girls of Wild Strawberries" follows with an acoustic slice of Beatles-iciousness. The most memorable tune by far, "Windows of My World," leaves a psychic imprint with dynamic and soaring psychedelia, worthy of a farewell salvo. Half-Smiles achieves a lo-fi earthiness by ingeniously spotlighting individual instruments in spacey and textured arrangements. Pollard's vocals are restrained and reflective — some of the sweetest singing of his career.
—JULIE GARISTO
Midnight Ghost
ROB HOTCHKISS
Robrecords
If the name Rob Hotchkiss sounds vaguely familiar, it's because he used to play guitar (and assorted other instruments) for vaguely spiritual Adult Alternative hitmakers Train. He left the group shortly after they won a Grammy for 2001's "Drops of Jupiter," a tune he had a large hand in writing. This solo debut finds him trading one sort of bland, formatted generica for another. Midnight Ghost is a tepid collection of passionless and too-predictable songs content to ape '70s singer-songwriter mellow gold ("Stay," "Golden," pretty much everything, really), bloodless roots-rock ("Try," "It's Alright"), and obvious Beatles hallmarks ("Mr. Green," "Sarah," "For Ellen," any track here with a name in its title). It's not that Hotchkiss isn't a more-than-competent singer, player and arranger. The problem lies in his apparent inability to inject any real sense of personal investment into the cliches on which he leans so heavily. This album is so safe, so familiar and constructed in such close accordance with some assumed template for mature singer-songwriter fare, that, but for the fact that it sure sounds pretty, it might as well have not been created at all. 1/2
—Scott Harrell
We Also Create False Promises
CHARACTER
Fictitious
This instrumental outfit comes straight outta Nashville without a pedal steel to be heard. Character's music is, by and large, a study in sumptuous languor — given to the slow build, and very occasionally jolted by a rousing solo or corrosive texture. The band members' pedigrees include stints in Lambchop, Lylas, Silver Jews and The Privates; the band's sound is droney and darkly melodic, with ample helpings of melancholy. The instrumentation blends thick, resonant guitars with wheezy analog synths, subdued drums and deep bass. Oh, and theremin. The players intertwine their labyrinthine parts, rarely stepping into the limelight, working licks and riffs and arpeggios and chords to a mesmerizing effect. The songs shift through movements, held together by deft transitions. This is the kind of music that makes you take a deep breath. (www.fictitiousrecords.com) 1/2
—ERIC SNIDER
We Is
KAHIL EL'ZABAR & DAVID MURRAY
Delmark
Two titans of avant-garde jazz got together on March 19, 2000, at the Bop Shop record store in Rochester, N.Y. They decided to roll tape. We Is captures tenor saxophonist/bass clarinetist Murray and drummer/ percussionist El'Zabar tapping into a high-octane, off-the-cuff chemistry, be it on the strutting "Blues Affirmation" or the African-tinged "Groove Allure" and "One World Family" (all three featuring El'Zabar laying down a supple groove on hand percussion). Murray's brawny tone is in full effect throughout, and his long, freewheeling improvisations are particularly focused. The unvarnished recording gives the sound a sharply visceral punch. 1/2
—ERIC SNIDER
This article appears in Nov 10-16, 2004.