Stuart Berman • Pitchfork more in Arts & Culture ![]()
The standard line about having your whole life to write your first album and only six months to write your second seemed especially true in the case of Franz Ferdinand. The Glaswegian band issued its sophomore effort You Could Have It So Much Better some 18 months after its 2004 self-titled debut– a narrow window considering that first record yielded three top 10 UK singles, a Mercury Prize, and a steady touring itinerary that saw them ascend from clubs to concert halls to the Grammys. But the quick turnaround and life on the road didn’t affect the quality of the material so much as the band’s performance of it– sounding brawnier and brasher than on their debut, Franz Ferdinand ripped through the album’s 13 songs.
Franz Ferdinand must’ve therefore been happy to sit out the past three years. In the time since Franz released their last album, their American contemporaries the Killers have already gone Springsteen and then swung back to their synth-pop roots, while next-generation UK upstarts like the Arctic Monkeys have weathered their own cycle of hyperbole, hibernation, and orchestral side projects. During that time, Franz Ferdinand first seemed poised to reemerge as the biggest pop band in the UK– having initially tapped Girls Aloud guru Brian Higgins (Xenomania) to produce their third album– or the most commercially suicidal, eventually parting ways with Higgins and indulging in extended studio jams, electronic experiments, and deconstructed, Martin Hannett-like recording techniques (complete with tales of using human bones for percussion).
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Zack Charles
Memphis garage-rocker Jay Reatard was one of the big breakout artists of 2008, releasing two fantastic singles collections on two different labels—Singles ’06-’07 collected songs from various 7-inches released by In The Red, andMatador Singles ’08 packaged together a special series of monthly vinyl-only releases from his new label. Along with earning critical praise for his music—which is a lot more sophisticated and clever than its dumb, Ramones-inspired artifice might suggest—Reatard also got the wrong kind of publicity when he punched out an unruly fan during a disastrous show in Toronto last spring. Inevitably, video of the incident was widely circulated on the Internet, and Reatard was painted as a petulant would-be rock star who couldn’t stand the heat of the punk-rock kitchen. Reatard maintains that he’s merely a musician and songwriter and not a badass tough guy, and he continues to be a prolific record-maker who’s currently prepping his first full-length album for Matador, set for an early 2009 release. The A.V. Club recently caught up with Reatard to talk about music, fighting, and whether it was wrong to name himself after a politically incorrect term for the cognitively disabled.

Courtney Love’s new album was supposed to hit stores yesterday, but Nobody’s Daughter has been postponed. The
Astronauts with vaginas for faces, a baby’s head crushed like a watermelon, Fred Armisen singing “Silent Night”– the Flaming Lips’ maiden foray into DIY filmmaking, Christmas on Mars, features no lack of bizarro imagery for fans who’ve been patiently waiting the past seven years for its release. The film essentially encompasses everything Wayne Coyne has ever sung about– the future, outer space, stressed-out scientists, heroism, insanity, the inevitability of death, hope in the face of disaster, the perseverance of the human spirit, mankind’s miniscule standing in the universe at large, and, yes, Christmas. And as ridiculous as the idea of Coyne making a sci-fi film in his backyard may be, it was a logical step for a band that’s historically found its stage-show inspiration in the local hardware store. But compared to the orgiastic circus of balloons, confetti, and dancing mascots that has come to define the the Flaming Lips’ live set-up,Christmas on Mars is a starkly rendered, sometimes ponderous, rather bleak affair. Starring multi-instrumentalist Steven Drozd as a Mars-station major trying to salvage Christmas celebrations on the red planet after a Santa-suited colleague’s suicide, and Coyne as the mute alien who helps him, the film plays like a 2001 that looks like it cost $2,001 to make.