LA Weekly

     Rihanna, “Umbrella” (Island Def Jam): 2006 was loaded with summer songs, those genre-crossing anthems that unite and define us: Lily Allen leaked an album’s worth of sharp but breezy MP3s that were belatedly released in the U.S.; Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie” came in spring ’06 but had legs to match the body part cited in the title; and we grew sick of Gnarls Barkley . . . but we did it together, goddammit!
Rihanna’s irresistible yet clinical R&B jam “Umbrella” sounds like a worthy candidate for any Best of ’07 list. Though it debuted in March, its cagey, multiseasonal lyrics kept it on the charts during the summer months: “When the sun shines/We’ll shine together/Told you I’ll be here forever . . . Now that it’s raining more than ever . . . You can stand under my umbrella/Ella ella ella.” Sure, it’s unfortunate that the song’s most memorable lyric was that parenthetical echo — “Ella ella ella” — but no one was looking to this Caribbean-born anti-diva for verbal finesse. And now that Rihanna has yet another catchy and anonymous single (“Shut Up and Drive”) climbing the charts, maybe we can conclude that one key to making an impact in this over-nichefied age is to downplay one’s personality as much as possible.


     Justin Timberlake, “Summer Love” (Jive/Zomba): Exhibit B in my case that we like our modern pop stars dull as dirt is Justin Timberlake — though I may be the only critic resisting his charms. He’s still in the midst of a universally lauded concert tour, and even I found his SNL self-parody “Dick in a Box” to be funny as shit. When I return to last year’s FutureSex/LoveSounds album, though, it’s hard to feel much of anything. Take Timberlake’s go at an ’07 summer smash, the strategically titled “Summer Love.” It was No. 1 on the pop charts all June, but I dare you to hum a few bars of this aerodynamic, inhuman concoction, which sounds like it was assembled by committee. Simply put, the combination of Timberlake and producer Timbaland was an effort at co-branding, not music making — a sin emblematic of today’s wan Top 40 universe. Justin Timberlake plays Staples Center on Sun. and Mon., Sept. 16 and 17.






    Sean Kingston: An argument against our turn to vague, listless pop stars is the success of Sean Kingston, an obese 17-year-old groomed for success since 1997, when, at age 7, he played a young Notorious B.I.G. in one of the rapper’s posthumous videos. This summer, Epic released Kingston’s first singles, “Beautiful Girls” and “Me Love,” both of which charted on the strength of his Rihanna-like blend of reggae riddims and R&B gloss. The upbeat music — redolent of 1950s pop — is weighed down (no pun intended) by disturbing lyrics littered with casual misogyny. “Beautiful Girls” accuses attractive women of driving men to suicide; “Me Love” is a desperate breakup anthem in which he admits to “drowning in the ocean” in the aftermath of a relationship. All the drama is belied by cheerful hooks lifted from Ben E. King’s “Stand by Me” (on “Beautiful Girls”), Led Zeppelin’s “D’yer Maker” and UB40’s “Red Red Wine” (on “Me Love”). Somehow the teen-pop liteness makes his sentiments that much heavier.


Justice, † (Ed Banger/Vice/Downtown): I’m not the only one complaining about the increasingly synthetic sound of Top 40 pop. Kanye West released “Stronger” earlier this summer, a track that heavily sampled the French house duo Daft Punk and contained one particularly pointed lyric: “Does anyone make real shit anymore?” Surely, Kanye intended this as a rhetorical boast. He’d point to himself or his Gallic collaborators as guardians of the authentic. (I’d put in a kind word for Mark Ronson, producer-of-the-moment for artists like Lily Allen and Amy Winehouse.) Instead, though, let’s consider the quirky charms of Daft Punk’s countrymen and spiritual progeny Justice: The title of their recently released record is represented by a Prince-like Christian cross. The duo’s sound is reminiscent of Daft Punk’s French funk but with a dirtier, headbanger edge. And the rare vocal moments on the album are (1) handled by a jaunty children’s chorus (“D.A.N.C.E.”); (2) buried under inscrutable backmasking and vocoder efx (“DVNO”); and (3) handed off to an obviously talentless teenage American girl named Uffie, who uses the opportunity to deliver some squeaky, intentionally awkward faux hip-hop (“The Party”). Now that’s what I call music!

But I do not jest. Justice bravely combine awkward moments, extreme effects and desperately ingratiating ideas to create a music custom-built for today. † sounds like an inspired mixed metaphor and — in this ADD-afflicted, iPod-addled moment — it makes for perfect transitionary fodder between your pirated Metallica MP3s and those obscure Italo-Disco and prog tracks you should be hoarding daily from the inspired BumRocks.com blog. Justice play the Detour Festival on Sat., Oct. 6, and the Henry Fonda Theater on Tues., Oct. 9.


LCD Soundsystem, Sound of Silver (DFA/Capitol Records): The sophomore album by producer James Murphy’s pet project was released early this year, but gained momentum and regard throughout the summer. A recently announced fall tour with the hottest indie rock band around, Arcade Fire, now positions LCD as the ne­ plus ultra of indie dance music. Need more proof? Where most major-label acts in search of hipster bona fides commission wan remixes, Murphy got to commission complete remakes of his latest single, “All My Friends” — and by Franz Ferdinand and the iconic John Cale, no less!

If there’s anything to complain about on Sound of Silver, it’s that Murphy’s yelping dance-rock numbers don’t measure up to his weepy electro-ballads — the aforementioned “All My Friends” and “New York, I Love You but You’re Bringing Me Down.” As in his breakthrough single, “Daft Punk Is Playing at My House,” Murphy has found a way to inject deeply felt nostalgia into the shallow lives of urban hipsters. Musically speaking, both songs are constructed around pulsing drum and piano parts that owe more than a little to the work of minimalist composer Steve Reich. Alongside the work of fellow indie champ Sufjan Stevens, it’s yet more evidence that ’70s-style repetitious electronic polyrhythms are the emotional bedrock of the best contemporary indie rock. LCD Soundsystem play the Hollywood Bowl on Thurs., Sept. 20.



Ivy League Africana: Another unexpected trend to emerge in the past year is the world music–indie rock amalgam propagated by a trio of NYC-based bands: Dirty Projectors, a concept-heavy project led by Yale-educated front man Dave Longstreth; Vampire Weekend, a buzzy quartet of Columbia grads praised as NYC’s next “it” band by The Fader and The New York Times; and Bishop Allen, a Harvard-educated pop group. In addition to their Ivy League diplomas, they have in common complicated, up-tempo rhythms; dueling, treble-charged, Highlife-style guitar lines; and a flair for syncopation, which makes even the simplest song more absorbing than it would be otherwise.

The depth to which these bands are directly indebted to African music varies widely. Dirty Projectors’ Longstreth is a committed avant-gardist who synthesizes his music from a wide palate of extreme ideas. Vampire Weekend merely use Africanisms to spring-load their preppy indie pop. And, to be honest, Bishop Allen are included here as much to complete the triumvirate as for their deep-seated dedication to world music. In fact, the latter band begs me to wonder: Are these artists devoted listeners of Fela Kuti and King Sunny Ade? Or did they just grow up in earshot of their parents’ copies of Paul Simon’s Graceland? Dirty Projectors play the Echo on Fri., Sept. 14, and Rise Above (Dead Oceans) will be released Tues., Sept. 11. Bishop Allen’s The Broken String (Dead Oceans) and Vampire Weekend’s s/t EP (self-released) are in stores now.