John Vanderslice Albums (8)
What The Critics Say
John Vanderslice is nothing if not consistent. He's never made a bad record, and although his idiosyncratic songwriting and production have only grown more confident and compelling with his last several releases, neither has he made one that is truly, unabashedly great. Romanian Names does little to change any of that, news that should be at once heartening, slightly disappointing, and ultimately entirely unsurprising to his followers. A couple of minor, outward things are different this time around. After six albums on Barsuk, Vanderslice has jumped ship to the increasingly eminent Dead Oceans imprint. He's also decided to shake up his writing process by hammering the songs out in a new basement studio at home before fleshing them out at Tiny Telephone, his usual HQ. Songwise, the results are subtle and few: save perhaps the sprightly, hummable "C&O Canal" and a pair of lovely ballads, "Too Much Time" and "Hard Times," these numbers aren't discernibly more direct or immediate than prior efforts. The album's sound is a typically Vanderslicean mix of inventive chamber orchestration, dappled electronic overtones, and scruffy acoustic indie pop guitars, a step back from the mildly more organic orientation of Emerald City to the variegated textures of Pixel Revolt, though in keeping with both of those albums' gentle, accessible veneer. In terms of the lyrics -- always a crucial factor with Vanderslice -- this may rank as his most oblique work, and not merely because the liners, atypically, lack a lyric sheet (although that could be taken as a clue to his intent). His familiar character-driven approach is largely intact, but the details are sketchier than usual, with few clear narratives emerging despite recurrent references to fraught romantic exploits, loss, violence, memories of summertime, and isolation in wilderness settings. The lack of specificity can be refreshing, with simple chorus phrases and potent, isolated images (notably, of fetal horses galloping in the womb) taking the place of involved story lines. Too often, though, the songs just feel enigmatic and empty. Aside from "Fetal Horses" and the several standouts mentioned earlier, there's strangely little here to hold on to, lyrically or otherwise, making Names an oddly evasive, impenetrable listen, even if only one song -- the repetitive and slightly grating "D.I.A.L.O." -- comes close to being unpleasant. Not great then, though not bad, Romanian Names holds the unfortunate and surprising distinction of being the very first John Vanderslice album to feel like just another John Vanderslice album. ~ K. Ross Hoffman, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Emerald City finds John Vanderslice moving in a more organic direction, relying less on electronic studio trickery and more on the weight of lyrics in his songs, in the vein of the Decemberists or Neutral Milk Hotel. According to a press statement by Barsuk Records, Emerald City was supposedly written as John Vanderslice dealt with legal issues due to an incident where his Parisian girlfriend's visa immigration was rejected by U.S. Immigration. Of course, with Vanderslice it's hard to know the difference between fact and fiction. (He cried wolf once before when he told the press that Bill Gates was suing him because of his song "Bill Gates Must Die," and his lyrics are often buried so deep beneath layers of mixed metaphor that it's more likely about something else entirely -- or then again, it could be about nothing in particular.) That's the beauty of Vanderslice's music. With good art, you can take away many different meanings depending on your perspective. There is a definite reoccurring theme that alludes to events of 9/11, with imagery of towers disappearing in a cloud of white smoke, but the stories are convoluted enough that it's difficult to know positively the concept of the record. It seems to be a tale of a man who destroys the Chrysler Towers in an act of terrorism. Afterwards, the protagonist loses the police in a parade and flees to a new home where he is tormented by paranoia and eventually leaves the country to escape. He starts taking codeine to help ease his mind, but is constantly haunted by memories of the past; a neighbor bemoans the loss of her daughter in the war, a tarot card reveals a picture of a burning tower on it, and tension builds and eventually drives the main character further into seclusion where he is consumed by loneliness. In the last song (the beautifully moody, electric piano based "Central Booking"), he receives a letter from his former lover but decides not to open it for fear of giving away his secret location. Of course this take on the content is merely one interpretation of the songs' meanings and if the press statement explains Vanderslice's motivations truthfully, the record is actually an autobiographical love story dedicated to a girl in France. It's doubtfully that simple, especially considering that his last four albums were so character-driven, but it's entirely plausible. Like Pixel Revolt his melodies are still strong and unpredictable, at times sounding like Matthew Sweet performing a ballad by Neil Young, and the production is still huge and full, although audiophiles may be disturbed by the overdriven acoustic guitars on certain songs that give an unnerving sensation of blown speaker cones. It's a forgivable stylistic decision, and doesn't detract much from the overall solidarity of the disc, which reiterates once again that Vanderslice is holding the torch as one of indie rock's most imaginative songwriters. ~ Jason Lymangrover, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
You know the rap concept albums get -- foot-thick mildewed tomes marked "pretentious" falling from the sky and crushing out your stereo. John Vanderslice's last two albums deftly avoided that stigma, despite the rich conceptual scope of Life and Death of an American Fourtracker and Cellar Door, and 2005's Pixel Revolt is no different. Vanderslice has an incredibly light touch with his characters. His lyrics set the scene, but rarely is anything fully resolved or revealed. So there are keywords and phrases -- "mujahidin barricades," "I know you don't mean that dear," "peer round corners with dental mirrors," "Shawnee brave" -- and suggestions as to what's happening, but Pixel Revolt is always at a four-way stop. It can go anywhere. Musically it incorporates guitars, manipulated tape, timpani, cello, and all manner of keys -- whatever the songs require, and in keeping with Vanderslice's unfailing curiosity as both a producer and sonic technician. (For Revolt he worked again with engineer/multi-instrumentalist Scott Solter, and also collaborated lyrically with John Darnielle.) Erik Friedlander's cello traces the melancholy, recollective quality of "Letter to the East Coast," while the star-obsession meditation "Peacocks in the Video Rain" is more upbeat with its chattering percussion and Baroque pop chorus. "Continuation" has to do with cops and killers and cracking the case; appropriately, it has the feel of a procedural crime drama's urgent and gritty theme song. Law & Order: Tiny Telephone. Other highlights include the gentle piano of "Farewell Transmission," "Exodus Damage," and its cosmic country lilt, and closer "crc7171, Affectionately," which with its B3, hissing loops, and insistent percussion might harbor Pixel Revolt's finest arrangement. It definitely has its most cryptic title. ~ Johnny Loftus, All Music Guide
'Live at Cat's Cradle 10/12/03'
Release Date 10/5/2004
Tracks 11
Label Emusiclive
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What The Critics Say
John Vanderslice muses about family and pseudo fantasy on Cellar Door, his fourth solo album. He's comfortable inside the sputtering sonics of the understated indie rock universe he and collaborator Scott Solter have assembled; it is assemblage, after all, since Vanderslice's pristine production -- when applied to his own songwriting -- acts as enormous and super-sharp ghost scissors, snipping, trimming, and carefully carving curves and swirls into a pop paper crane both delicate and dark. He patiently puts buzzing keyboards up against tense, ringing electric guitars and percussive overtures ("Coming and Going on Easy Terms") and begins the album with blurts of backmasked and treated acoustic guitar over whining drums ("Pale Horse," which suggests the heady, off-kilter pop of pals Spoon), through it all mulling the meaning of familial relationships and dwelling in places or on characters that drift in the margins of reality. Vanderslice is a prison guard, a door gunner, or the junkie offspring of a gone-bananas mother. In the pretty, desperate "They Won't Let Me Run," he's an angry man cuffed to his last name's legacy; inside the electronic throb of "Up Above the Sea," he's a reluctant hunter, unwilling to kill but wondering what will happen if he does. "Everyday the bluebird comes down," he sings. "Can't figure out if he brings me luck/Or if he's trying to tear me down." These story-songs of Vanderslice's have a Smog quality about them, as do their persistently unique blend of instrumentation, style, and flair for a subtle hook. Like Bill Callahan, Vanderslice's lyrics often unfold in the first person, but frequently leave actual identities in the shadows. There's inescapable warmth and hope in the surging strings and descending chorus melody of mid-album standout "Promising Actress." But what about those unsettling chimes that run through it, and words of a gun and a mysterious cowboy? These at-odds questions make the listener queasy, but dizzy with enjoyment. In the end, listening to Cellar Door is like feeling happy upon hearing the tiny plinks of a childhood music box, only to grow uneasy as the unexpected memories twist into creepy déjà vu. Another impossibly creative and consistently satisfying offering from one of indie rock's most prolific personalities. ~ Johnny Loftus, All Music Guide
'The Life and Death of an American Fourtracker'
Release Date 5/7/2002
Tracks 12
Label Barsuk
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What The Critics Say
With three records in just two years, John Vanderslice is already proving himself to be a prolific songwriter who can put together an admirable concept record. Like Time Travel Is Lonely, The Life and Death of an American Fourtracker tells a story of solitude and, ultimately, the downfall of its protagonist. A boy obsessed with producing home recordings may not sound as sad as someone stuck in Antarctica without communication, but through Vanderslice's lyrics and wonderful arrangements, a powerful misfortune emerges. With help once again from indie rock friends such as Spoon, Death Cab for Cutie, and Beulah, he shows a developing interest in peculiar sounds as well as chamber pop, most notably on "The Mansion," which blossoms into a jubilant chorus. The examination of a recording device in "Me and My 424" establishes a sense that this genuine tale isn't too far from being autobiographical. And given Vanderslice's number of hours spent in his Tiny Telephone studio, it wouldn't be a surprise. ~ Kenyon Hopkin, All Music Guide
'Time Travel Is Lonely'
Release Date 6/12/2001
Tracks 13
Label Barsuk
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
After pulling the leg of the media with a clever hoax centered on a song from his previous album, skeptics may want to proceed with caution to John Vanderslice's second outing. But there's no sign of an elaborate prank on Time Travel Is Lonely. In fact, the lyrics here (some of which appear as scrawled letters to home inside the record sleeve) are sincerely solemn, suggesting isolation in the icy world of Antarctica. With production help from John Croslin (Spoon, Guided By Voices) and cameos by members of Beulah, For Stars, and Oranger, Vanderslice makes use of everything in his Tiny Telephone studio, applying indie rock standbys such as trumpet, Moog, drum machine, flute, and electric piano. Like his hoax that resulted from issues with technology, Vanderslice still has a bone to pick with computers, revealed when his isolated character loses use of a computer in the title track. And without email, time travel can be terribly lonely. ~ Kenyon Hopkin, All Music Guide
'Mass Suicide Occult Figurines'
Release Date 7/11/2000
Tracks 11
Label Barsuk
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Having caused a minor media sensation when he claimed he was being sued and generally bullied by Microsoft for the track "Bill Gates Must Die," only to later reveal that the whole story was only a prank, John Vanderslice's solo debut is a surprisingly accessible and coherent album. For someone who apparently derives pleasure from pulling Andy Kauffman-esque tricks on the media, he is a dead serious songwriting talent. Coming off a critically acclaimed run with former band mates MK Ultra, he retains some of their more hard-edged rock elements, as on the muscularly dreamy "Speed Lab" and the punchy "And What Did You Do Today." Similarly, the big bruising guitars of "Bill Gates Must Die" drive lyrics that are surprisingly free of attack on the multi-billionaire, instead telling the story of a man whose life is ruined by his obsessive internet use. In the end, however, it's Vanderslice's imaginative melodic sense that makes Mass Suicide Occult Figurines a rare type of album. The gliding atmospherics and beautifully disjointed pop arrangement of "Ambition" balanced with the simple piano and acoustic guitar-based "Josie Anderson" deliver more than a few well-produced and well-textured pop moments, though never becoming overly or awkwardly grandiose. Having once claimed that Brian Wilson sold him a 16-track recorder, Vanderslice masterfully employs multi-layered harmonies and touches of tasteful strings in "Gruesome Details" and "Foothills of My Mind" in ways not dissimilar from that of the troubled pop genius. While his lyricism may be somewhat strange, it certainly isn't indecipherable, just as his pop dynamics are consistently adventurous but never unfocused. While John Vanderslice's shrewd media hoax may be largely responsible for putting him in the news, his rare musical gifts are what will keep him there. ~ Matt Fink, All Music Guide
