Customer Reviews

Blueberry Boat

5 star:		(59)
4 star:		(8)
3 star:		(7)
2 star:		(10)
1 star:		(16)

 

 

Ok, imagine a car. You're driving. At the back seat, there are your father, granny and two brothers. One of the bros is a fan of computer sounds, he can't get enough of experimenting, the other boy likes classical rock and elecrtic guitars, your father plays a piano and granny is constantly telling fairy-tales and children stories. And they fight, they all have their ideas, their stories to tell, one tries to overtrump the other. And everyone tries to press oneself into the front seat.

And who sits on the front seat, next to you? It's your sister, singing. She's a nice person, with a unique tweak and you like her, but you've known her a long life and it's getting a bit boring. Plus, the windows are open and sometimes you pass some additional musicians. But in general, all the people in the car are getting along quite well.

And what are you thinking? You're thinking, you like it. Of course you like it, you have to, they're your family. And sometimes they really have nice moments. But still there's something wrong. You find it interesting, but it doesn't rock. You find it cute, but it doesn't excite you. You would just like to go a bit faster, but there are speed limits. And you cannot decide, if you should throw someone out of the car, or maybe you should just write some better tunes for you family to perform.

And you know, that if you let the family outside, thy would be crazier and better (live on stage). And you remember, that there were better times, times, when you found that your family rocks (previous album GALLOWBIRD'S BARK).
You don't know, what to do.

I've had the pleasure of listening to The Fiery Furnace's sophomore album, Blueberry Boat several times in the past two weeks. It's nearly killed off music altogether for me. I'm not sure how Frank Zappa and Captain Beefheart fans did it in the seventies. Idea's so fervent that they're coming out of every quoin of every movement in every epic-and that's just one of the thirteen songs on the Furnaces huge, end-of-it-all follow up to last years Gallowsbird's Bark debut.
By "end-of-it-all" I basically mean that it's all over. There wont be a crazier, more rewarding listening experience this year. If there is, I'm dead-I just don't think I have the energy, in fact, I'm still not sure that my ears (or patience) will make it through Blueberry. Sole members (as well as brother and sister) Eleanor and Matthew Friedberger have moved away from their impatient folk approach to a more lush, impulsive, anything goes style that recalls the headaches last heard while trying to make yourself love Trout Mask Replica.
The blistering guitar work is still there, as are the Midwestern coffee shop vocals and sweet melodies; wait till you hear what they added. In the sixties, if you made a jump like this, you were automatically rumored to be headed towards drug rehab. The Furnaces plethora of idea's are the real thing; while they are challenging and at times confusing, they always pay off in time, every one of them.
The meat of Blueberry is built on five, eight-plus minute tracks that utilize several movements whom often bask in their own genre-jumping glory. Matthew's guitar goes from cerebral backing exercise to all out, front and center, extended solos. Eleanor's barrage of piano work, keyboard effects, and sweetheart indie-pop vocals mark the arrival of a creative monster; leading her way through a seemingly impossible album intent on being catchy, peerless, and formidable.
This is the sound of grad school. It's nauseating. It's confusing. It's annoying and difficult. Blueberry Boat is an example of a band with the confidence to try to do something that has never been done-and that's a rare find. To most, Blueberry will be too much, to no one will it not be enough. This is the product of focused excess. This is the sound of Midwestern progressive rock, via New York City. This will not be where music changes for the better, and that's too bad. That was going too far, but really, Blueberry is THAT shocking of a listen. This is me, being overly enthusiastic-it's almost over.
For listeners looking to challenge both their endurance and their tolerance, this is it. Blueberry is downright hateable and admirable all at once. The ones who do click with Blueberry will very likely have a new `desert island' album on their hands, that's the power of music this imaginative and dense with direction. Few people will love this album, many will hate it-no one could have ever imagined it, not even Beefheart.

Five plus stars for vision and 3.5 stars for execution=4.25 stars

Who knew there was a band in the underground that could generate this much fervent opinion both pro and con? Seems either you hate _Blueberry Boat_ or love it. Myself, I lean very heavily towards the latter. Yes, this album could effectively be cut down by thirty minutes or so. Sure, Mr. Friedberger is probably a little too enamored of making noises on the sundry instruments he plays. And okay, the Furnaces' albums sound claustrophobic, almost "incestuous," cloistered, the sound of two twenty-something siblings with way too much time on their hands.

And all of these shortcomings add to the equation of why you should love what is shaping up to be the most ambitious indie unit of the decade.

I've wanted to review this album ever since I got it some months ago (the night I saw them live; now the live experience, THAT is something different altogether, electric, loud, brash--PLEASE put out a live album ASAP, Friedbergers). I wanted to wait 'til I "got it." Now I know that will never happen. I wanted to put together the snippets of narratives here, the shifting foci of my annoyance and ecstasy every time I listen to this album, etc. . . . Then I realized, like most of my favorite works of art, I will never put my head all the way around this one. Think _Ulysses_ or _Finnegans Wake_ by James Joyce. Could he have cut these works down by several hundreds of pages? Most certainly. Would they be the same works if it would have been easier to identify their narrative arcs, if he would have compacted them, if he wouldn't've resorted to masturbatory techniques. No, sir/ma'am; in the end, these excessive urges (ESPECIALLY the masturbation) is a large part of what Joyce's works are all about.

And in the midst of all this sprawl, Joyce managed to capture an infinite expanse of what the human condition is all "about." (Everything and nothing all at once.) And so do the Fiery Furnaces!!! Disjointed narratives about losing one's dog; wandering around Mason City, IA (it's very much in the middle of nowhere, BTW); sing-songy songs about belatedness . . . skronky guitar runs, synthesizer vamps and arpeggios, Casio drum machine, found-sound effects . . . the catalog goes on and on and you never figure out exactly what this Blueberry Boat odyssey means, exactly.

But you can pinpoint some references. Sgt. Pepper and the Magical Mystery Tour are most certainly along on this boat ride. A really convoluted version of punk is here (most certainly not the least of which is the fierce and unrelenting DIY spirit that I'm overjoyed to say that the Friedberger's will almost certainly never lose). Classic 70's rock is here (again, in exquisitely contorted form). Want an even messier concept album than _Tommy_ or ELP's _Tarkus_? Here it is. Want a musician capable of virtuosity AND squalid/weird noise a la Robert Fripp? Well, Matthew Friedberger one-ups King Crimson's ace a few notches and makes himself a freaky virtuoso on both guitar AND keyboards. Oh, and know what makes them different than all these "dinosaurs," as you indie-rock snobs so self-righteously put it? They don't take themselves seriously at all (unlike you indie-rock snobs, who likely don't want to get the Furnaces in the first place)! Song #4, "Chris Michaels" starts out with Jenny singing the delightfully gauche lyric, "Later at lunch, with the taco lettuce crunch . . ." She even puts a rolling "r" on the "crunch" in that line. Besides playing with instrument sounds, these two are also masters at playing with vowels, consonants, and mouth noises that don't even have typographical symbols. Cheesy sometimes? Hell yeah! Even vaudevillian!!! This puts them in a lineage of the creme de la creme of rock and roll who know that the best attitude is sometimes just to say, "Ah, what the f**k! Let's just rock . . . f**k the critics, f**k the audience. We'll get our love by being our own gloriously weird selves. (I'm going to add the Furnaces to a list of exalted weirdos I am starting here: Beach Boys, Beatles, Hendrix, the Who, Zappa, Captain Beefheart, NY Dolls, ELP, the Stooges, the Pistols, Wire, Flaming Lips . . . wow, this list goes on and on: AND ALL THE BANDS ARE GREAT!)

So I'm not giving this five stars. Like it says at the top, they are five plus stars for vision and spirit, but 3.5 for execution. Well, _Bitter Tea_ just came out and they have upped the ante (give me a few months to digest that one a little and I will come down from the mountain and share my opinion on that one with you, as well). They need more musicians on their albums, an actual band. They need to perfect the fine arts of editing and studio engineering. Still, I think you have to admit that it's better to have adventurous young folks like the Friedbergers figuring these arts out for themselves rather than having some execs pushing them as the next emo sensation or some s**t. Mark my words. Give this album many close listens and many more not-so-close listens besides (minimum grand total of fifteen--it's that dense). Then, get back to me and tell me that you don't hear one of the most impressive indie bands of the decade. And then I'll laugh at you. We'll look back at the avant-de-siecle of this decade and mention these guys along with a handful of other true indie pioneers like Deerhoof and (used-to-be-indie) Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and whomever else comes along in the next four years. The great news is that the Friedbergers are still very young and have many five-star albums in them yet. _Blueberry Boat_ is definitely the start of something incredible.

It's funny... I listen to a lot of John Zorn, early Frank Zappa, Mike Patton, and (original) Smile-era Brian Wilson stuff, so I don't even think twice about fragmentary music that changes every 10–45 seconds. When I heard this, it didn't even consciously occur to me how often the music changed, and I just sat back and enjoyed the pretty melodies and the general sense of fun. It wasn't until I started reading all the reviews that say things like "These guys must have ADD! This is nuts!" that I realized, yeah, I guess it does change direction pretty often compared to most music. Well, whatever. I guess it really depends on your temperment. Are you looking for music exclusively to soothe you or to dance to? Are you annoyed by music that strays too far from the reservation? Well then, this is probably not for you. If you want music to challenge and distract you, then pick this up by all means.

One more thing. There's nothing wrong with not liking this album. But calling it a "con game", and accusing people who do like it of being mindless sheep, suckered by trendy indie magazines, is the worst kind of snobbery. Do try to consider that people might honestly have different taste in music, and that just because they like something you don't doesn't necessarily mean they're stupid poseurs.

Every now and again, there comes an indie-rock band that really blows the mind. Neutral Milk Hotel, Radiohead and the Flaming Lips are among those bands -- and now the Fiery Furnaces join their ranks, with the rock opera "Blueberry Boat." Sprawling, quirky and musically epic, this is undoubtedly an indie classic in the making.

Piano and sputtering keyboards open the enormous intro song -- it's ten minutes long, no kidding. Then Eleanor Friedburger's sweet, singsong vocals kick in, singing a sprawling pop song. It sounds like a child's nursery rhyme on acid, full of deceptively simple rhythms, sparkling melodies and Inuit words tossed into the mix. A sugnacoon, by the way, is a coat.

That ten-minute opener also gives an idea of what the band is all about -- strange ideas, set into stories against a backdrop of indierock. Echoing guitars and swirling keyboards fill up the gaps between their story-songs, which focus on everything from a religious dog in the fuzzy organ-pop "My Dog Was Lost But Now He's Found," to doing legal work in guitar-heavy "Mason City."

If you want to get technical, nothing here makes sense. But like Neutral Milk Hotel, it makes sense if you ignore all your musical senses, and just listen to it by itself. The wild stylistic changes in the middle of songs, the nonsensical lyrics, and the mix of acoustic and keyboard seem like a trio of death knells for this album. Instead, they add to the magic and whimsy of it.

At first glance, the songs seem incomprehensible. Or worse, absurd. But just keep listening -- sooner or later it clicks, and the unique writing of each song shines out. The songs overflow with onomatopoeia (note: words that sound like sounds), childlike rhymes, and bizarre subject matter like pirates robbing the "blueberry boat." Perhaps the best representation is the first song -- "Quay Cur" has a lot of words that sound like nonsense, but turn out to make perfect sense once you look up what they are.

While the Furnaces got lots of praise for being catchy in their debut, here they don't stick to hooks -- whenever you think they're going to do so, they veer off. Instead we get unabashedly sparkly melodies, handclaps and eerie keyboards that sputter, ripple, hover and spark. The piano gets the best workout -- sometimes it tinkles, sometimes it ripples, sometimes it gets thumped into a dance-hall rhythm.

Sibling musicians Matt and Eleanor Friedberger share vocal duties -- Matt sounds a bit grimmer and down-to-earth, even when he's surrounded by keyboard washes. Eleanor throws herself entirely into the singing, with plenty of humor about lines like, "I kicked my dog... I was MEAN to him before!" She sounds genuinely shocked about herself.

The concept album is not quite dead, and the Fiery Furnaces have done their bit to keep it alive. To call their charming, eerie critique/concept album a future classic isn't too much of a stretch.

Did I miss something?

It's not bad, if you can, in fact get past the opening track. And I admittedly have a rather eclectic taste in music. But this, I just.. didn't get it.

Seems there is a hype about this band. I don't really see why. I also don't see how they're 'revolutionizing' Indie-rock.

Not a bad listen, to say the least. But afterwards, I felt deflated when I realized I bought into the critics, and left feeling like this isn't the five star record I was told it was.

I did enjoy the track 'Mason City.' If that's any use to anyone at all.

Also, it's come to my attention that if you don't have taste, and like Iron and Wine, you won't like this album. It's good to know that everyone is a critic. Even if they have severely flawed judgement. People like what they like, the matter of taste is purely based on the person themself.

Liking an album the first time you hear it pretty much means you won't be listening to it a year from now. It means that the style is so familiar that you will have moved on. Been there done that. I'm sure you have a truckload of them. We all do. But it's the albums that you don't really GET at first; the ones you don't think you like, those are the ones that stick with you once you've learned to appreciate them. The ones that make you a little crazy at first, and maybe a little angry that you bothered to buy them. But then, after a few begrudging listens, you slowly start to get accustomed to them, the melodies and the rythms, and it's like a light bulb goes off in your hed. 'This is really good!' Well, this is that kind of album. So to all those that think they hate it, well, you just haven't listened to it enough to 'get' it yet. And to those that HAVE listened to it a lot and still don't like it- well, that's cool. ClearChannel loves you.

This follow-up to the Friedlander siblings' first album, the sublime GALLOWSBIRD BARK is as good in every way. They even manage to create an aural soundscape that is in the same ball-park as the first album, but at the other end of the pitch. BLUEBERRY BOAT is a cornucopeia of dissonance, melody, dizzy-ing genre shifts, tongue-twisting word-play and exuberance. I might also add that it is a beautiful and ethereal progression of song, too. Again, like the first album, this demands repeated listening. Too many people will give this a cursory listen and walk away frustrated by its surface obtuseness, its pretensions to song-smithery and its child-like fascination with thematic and melodic bric-a-brac. But please, stick with it and you will come away a happier, more balanced, nicer-smelling and charming person. I guarantee it.

Listening to Blueberry Boat is the equivalent musical experience as watching your ADD-afflicted brother switch station after station on the television, dialing in another program just as you're getting used to whatever he had on there to begin with. Fiery Furnaces do the same thing with all of the hooks they've lined up: just when you recognize what sounds something like The Who, or the myraid other influnces they've lined up, it all changes somehow. Some people will like this approach to music making, and some people just don't have the attention span to appreciate that. Genius music for the ADD generation.

Every now and again, there comes an indie-rock band that really blows the mind. Neutral Milk Hotel, Radiohead and the Flaming Lips are among those bands -- and now the Fiery Furnaces join their ranks, with the rock opera "Blueberry Boat." Sprawling, quirky and musically epic, this is undoubtedly an indie classic in the making.

Piano and sputtering keyboards open the enormous intro song -- it's ten minutes long, no kidding. Then Eleanor Friedburger's sweet, singsong vocals kick in, singing a sprawling pop song. It sounds like a child's nursery rhyme on acid, full of deceptively simple rhythms, sparkling melodies and Inuit words tossed into the mix. A sugnacoon, by the way, is a coat.

That ten-minute opener also gives an idea of what the band is all about -- strange ideas, set into stories against a backdrop of indierock. Echoing guitars and swirling keyboards fill up the gaps between their story-songs, which focus on everything from a religious dog in the fuzzy organ-pop "My Dog Was Lost But Now He's Found," to doing legal work in guitar-heavy "Mason City."

If you want to get technical, nothing here makes sense. But like Neutral Milk Hotel, it makes sense if you ignore all your musical senses, and just listen to it by itself. The wild stylistic changes in the middle of songs, the nonsensical lyrics, and the mix of acoustic and keyboard seem like a trio of death knells for this album. Instead, they add to the magic and whimsy of it.

At first glance, the songs seem incomprehensible. Or worse, absurd. But just keep listening -- sooner or later it clicks, and the unique writing of each song shines out. The songs overflow with onomatopoeia (note: words that sound like sounds), childlike rhymes, and bizarre subject matter like pirates robbing the "blueberry boat." Perhaps the best representation is the first song -- "Quay Cur" has a lot of words that sound like nonsense, but turn out to make perfect sense once you look up what they are.

While the Furnaces got lots of praise for being catchy in their debut, here they don't stick to hooks -- whenever you think they're going to do so, they veer off. Instead we get unabashedly sparkly melodies, handclaps and eerie keyboards that sputter, ripple, hover and spark. The piano gets the best workout -- sometimes it tinkles, sometimes it ripples, sometimes it gets thumped into a dance-hall rhythm.

Sibling musicians Matt and Eleanor Friedberger share vocal duties -- Matt sounds a bit grimmer and down-to-earth, even when he's surrounded by keyboard washes. Eleanor throws herself entirely into the singing, with plenty of humor about lines like, "I kicked my dog... I was MEAN to him before!" She sounds genuinely shocked about herself.

The concept album is not quite dead, and the Fiery Furnaces have done their bit to keep it alive. To call their charming, eerie critique/concept album a future classic isn't too much of a stretch.