This is my review of the Matthew Good album White Light Rock & Roll Review. Notice how I used the word review even though it is also in the album title. Very clever in my humble opinion. Anyway I hope you like my review. Or rather I hope the review makes you buy the album and you like the album. Or whatever. Read, my drones!
Official TRF Review:
Matthew Good - White Light Rock & Roll Review
By Yossarian
Let it never be said that Matthew Good is content to stagnate.
Most followers of the Canadian rocker -- and his acerbic wit and catchy tunes have inspired quite a few -- will agree that, if anything, fans are more likely to become disenfranchised with his music because he does something too different, rather than through boredom. Good has admitted in interview that this is intentional. And so White Light Rock & Roll Review is exactly what his supporters expected; something totally unexpected.
Few who enjoyed the subtly beautiful songwriting and gentle melodies of Avalanche would have expected anything like this out of Matthew Good so soon after. Gone are the slow, enchanting ballads and eclectic accompanying instruments. White Light is an unashamed guitar album; it is full of catchy hooks, hard-hitting guitar lines and pounding, aggressive drumming. There are no strings, no orchestras (despite the name of the concluding track) and the pianos and keyboards seem thrown in only for good measure. In fact, one might argue that this is the most “rock” album Matt Good has ever released, much more so than anything he did with the MGB.
The first thing you’ll hear when you put this disc into your CD player is the palm-muted guitar assault of Put Out Your Lights. By the time Matt’s borderline-shouted vocals chime in, you will know for certain two things; you aren’t listening to Avalanche, and Matt Good has not lost his edge. And by the time the song ends at an all-time short 2:03, you’ll know that it’s a good thing.
When the subdued and mournful Avalanche was released, many speculated that Good had lost his edge. This wasn’t entirely a criticism, but it was clear that the music was moving in a different direction. Good did nothing to discourage this notion; in most interviews, he noted that being over 30 years old, he had no desire to jump around a stage. So we thought that the First Asshole of Canada had mellowed. How wrong we were.
Matt Good is fucking pissed off, and he doesn’t care what anyone thinks. White Light is a fight album in the vein of Beautiful Midnight. Like that record – which can now be considered a quintessential (perhaps defining) moment in the Canadian music scene of the nineties – it has moments of pensive contemplation and moments of unbridled rage. It has soaring melodies and haunting falsettos, pianos and acoustic guitars. And it has crashing, resounding aural attacks. And it makes for an absolutely amazing album. If there was one thing that Avalanche lacked, it was energy, and White Light Rock & Roll Review has it in spades. If you thought that the single, Alert Status Red, was aggressive given the relative example of Avalanche, you thought wrong.
Two minute tracks like Put Out Your Lights, Poor Man’s Grey, and North American For Life astound with blazing guitar lines and densely-packed emotion. If Avalanche was a record to make you reflect, White Light is a record to move you. And with the power these songs contain, they just might.
As Canada’s premiere songwriter, Matthew Good’s job has long been providing food for thought. Everyone knows that the most important thing on an MG album is the lyrical content, so let’s get right down to it. White Light comes out just in time for the Canadian national election, and it isn’t a mistake. This is by far the most overtly political album that Matt has ever put out – indeed it’s probably one of the most politically aggressive discs ever not to come out of the punk genre. Let there be no doubt in anyone’s mind; if you are a conservative, do not buy this album. Do touch this album. Do not so much as look at this album or you will probably combust.
As a distinct non-fan of punk rock I can say with all honesty that the album’s eighth track, North American For Life, is basically what most punk aspires to be but cannot either by disastrous ignorance or a total lack of poetic ability. But Good spins this yarn and others like it that espouse his beliefs in ways that are bound to touch the listener, either through subtlety or sheer vehemence. NDP leader Jack Layton probably could have swayed more voters in the English language debate that occurred the day this record was released by simply bringing a stereo and playing White Light whenever addressed.
“Put out your lights,” Matt shouts to open the album. “Sit on your hands for the new national anthem.” Within the first thirty seconds of this record there should be very little doubt in your mind about what you will receive. This is political music at its most clever, its most poetic; “blinders for your beasts of burden/ the will for learning/ these books were made for burning.”
But the lyrics are beautiful as well as political; sincere as well as opinionated. We’re So Heavy in particular is brilliantly penned, and concludes with the touchingly sung question, “How can you love Jove, Drusilla, and forsake Rome?” The poignantly put lyric makes this one of the most emotionally intense moments on the record.
In a move that will shock listeners accustomed to Matt’s obscure and eloquent lyrics, White Light also gets in the trenches with bold statements of political fury that leave little to the imagination. North American For Life again personifies this, with a raging political assault. “Yeah motherfucker we’re number one/ All out of beer so go get your gun,” Matt yells, self-referencing his own music video. Then comes the real kicker; “George is teaching the kids to fight/ Look at the world and tell me it’s all right.” I’ll give you three guesses as to which George he means.
Some people may be afraid of what all this overt political posturing; I heard lyrical excerpts from this album beforehand and I certainly was. Such music is so often stilted, uninformed, idiotic and boring that one wonders if the lead singer is ashamed to be saying what he is. Punk rock in particular, where I believe the average IQ of the political rocker is somewhere around that of a shrub, suffers from this. But Good addresses these issues with enough intelligence, enough experience and perhaps enough jaded cynicism that it’s okay for him to mention George Bush by name.
In many ways, this is also one of Matthew Good’s most musically experienced albums. He approaches the idea of a traditional rock album with both a knowing swagger and a humility that allows the songs to speak for themselves. The trademark MG range is back, with basic guitar-rock tracks like Put Out Your Lights and catchy alt-rock tunes like Alert Status Red mixing in with the melodic sentimentality of Blue Skies Over Bad Lands, and even what may be traces of alt-country in Empty Road.
The expert instrumentals paint a picture of a man comfortable enough with his own abilities as a songwriter to record off the floor with a basic four-piece band. A man comfortable enough with his own voice to shout when the song demands it, and still able to demonstrate his remarkable vocal range to hit notes that would make Chris Martin blush and probably rethink his life. Good has nothing to prove to anyone. Nothing on this album is unnecessary or present as a demonstration.
The influence of Avalanche is definitely felt, but not in the manner you’d expect; it is infinitely clear to anyone who has followed Matthew Good’s career that Avalanche was a catharsis, an opportunity to experiment with everything he was never allowed to use in MGB; orchestral arrangements, the piano as a primary focus, epic songwriting that never would have been accepted in a contemporary rock band. He’s gotten that out of his system, and it’s back to being about the songs, now.
In fact, some of the tracks were recorded off the floor with a basic four-piece; as such, this is an album with a distinctly more raw feel than anything else Matt has ever done, even including the MGB’s first independent effort, Last of the Ghetto Astronauts. The rawness suits the subject matter and songwriting perfectly, however. In fact, if these songs had received the Avalanche treatment, it would have killed the brazen nature that makes them so incredibly compelling.
As always, what adds an enormous amount of worth to these songs is Good’s ability to inject the critical element hope into the most dismal and dark of tunes. This is a skill he shares with Thom Yorke of Radiohead, and almost all other great bands that write serious, important music. It isn’t particularly difficult to write something dismal and hopeless, but to revel in that hopelessness and indeed, find salvation in it is something Good excels at. Matthew Good both laughs at his own music’s downbeat nature and takes it seriously enough to find rays of sunshine.
From the deceptively simple licks of Alert Status Red to the nonchalant glory of the acoustic Empty Road, to the atmospheric, meandering brilliance of We’re So Heavy, this is an album that knows exactly what it wants to be and how to strike an emotional chord with the listener. Avalanche’s title track was a song that amounted to a titanic effort to convey sentiment in the most epic form possible. For all of its carefully-doctored theatrics and experimental brilliance, however, it is still not as touching as We’re So Heavy. Even White Light’s obligatory love song, It’s Been Awhile Since I Was Your Man is much more mature than Avalanche’s Song For the Girl.
All of this gushing isn’t without hesitation, however. As I said, if you are of a different political alignment than Mr. Good, you will not find anything to like in this album. But then, if you are, you probably won’t want to; this sort of music isn’t made for you. Admittedly, the one shortfall of this record is its less-than-stellar closing track, Ex-Pats of the Blue Mountain Symphony Orchestra. I admit I wasn’t enthused with Avalanche’s closer, House of Smoke and Mirrors, either, and I do realize I was in the minority with regard to this. Excellent or not I don’t believe Ex-Pats has the emotional depth to effectively close an album this good. I would have gone with Blue Skies over Bad Lands; giving Ex-Pats such a pivotal role was, in my opinion, not a wise decision. That said, it is a good song, and I’ll let it speak for itself.
It’s a twist of irony that the reason White Light Rock & Roll Review will probably be remembered most is its simplicity. Avalanche was an album that took the listener on an epic journey through Matthew Good’s mind; in both scope and sound it was truly expansive. Average track length was probably something like five minutes, compared with which some of White Light’s songs seem to fly by. But for all of that manufacturing, White Light will ultimately be remembered as the superior album. In making it, Good was unafraid to put his “intellectual” reputation on the line to create brilliantly simple rock and roll, as the title suggests. And in doing so, he actually lends his ideas much more credence.
And by the way, wait a minute or two after Ex-Pats ends for the bonus track. Don't expect anything as genius as Omissions of the Omen, but enjoy.
Official TRF Review:
Matthew Good - White Light Rock & Roll Review
By Yossarian
Let it never be said that Matthew Good is content to stagnate.
Most followers of the Canadian rocker -- and his acerbic wit and catchy tunes have inspired quite a few -- will agree that, if anything, fans are more likely to become disenfranchised with his music because he does something too different, rather than through boredom. Good has admitted in interview that this is intentional. And so White Light Rock & Roll Review is exactly what his supporters expected; something totally unexpected.
Few who enjoyed the subtly beautiful songwriting and gentle melodies of Avalanche would have expected anything like this out of Matthew Good so soon after. Gone are the slow, enchanting ballads and eclectic accompanying instruments. White Light is an unashamed guitar album; it is full of catchy hooks, hard-hitting guitar lines and pounding, aggressive drumming. There are no strings, no orchestras (despite the name of the concluding track) and the pianos and keyboards seem thrown in only for good measure. In fact, one might argue that this is the most “rock” album Matt Good has ever released, much more so than anything he did with the MGB.
The first thing you’ll hear when you put this disc into your CD player is the palm-muted guitar assault of Put Out Your Lights. By the time Matt’s borderline-shouted vocals chime in, you will know for certain two things; you aren’t listening to Avalanche, and Matt Good has not lost his edge. And by the time the song ends at an all-time short 2:03, you’ll know that it’s a good thing.
When the subdued and mournful Avalanche was released, many speculated that Good had lost his edge. This wasn’t entirely a criticism, but it was clear that the music was moving in a different direction. Good did nothing to discourage this notion; in most interviews, he noted that being over 30 years old, he had no desire to jump around a stage. So we thought that the First Asshole of Canada had mellowed. How wrong we were.
Matt Good is fucking pissed off, and he doesn’t care what anyone thinks. White Light is a fight album in the vein of Beautiful Midnight. Like that record – which can now be considered a quintessential (perhaps defining) moment in the Canadian music scene of the nineties – it has moments of pensive contemplation and moments of unbridled rage. It has soaring melodies and haunting falsettos, pianos and acoustic guitars. And it has crashing, resounding aural attacks. And it makes for an absolutely amazing album. If there was one thing that Avalanche lacked, it was energy, and White Light Rock & Roll Review has it in spades. If you thought that the single, Alert Status Red, was aggressive given the relative example of Avalanche, you thought wrong.
Two minute tracks like Put Out Your Lights, Poor Man’s Grey, and North American For Life astound with blazing guitar lines and densely-packed emotion. If Avalanche was a record to make you reflect, White Light is a record to move you. And with the power these songs contain, they just might.
As Canada’s premiere songwriter, Matthew Good’s job has long been providing food for thought. Everyone knows that the most important thing on an MG album is the lyrical content, so let’s get right down to it. White Light comes out just in time for the Canadian national election, and it isn’t a mistake. This is by far the most overtly political album that Matt has ever put out – indeed it’s probably one of the most politically aggressive discs ever not to come out of the punk genre. Let there be no doubt in anyone’s mind; if you are a conservative, do not buy this album. Do touch this album. Do not so much as look at this album or you will probably combust.
As a distinct non-fan of punk rock I can say with all honesty that the album’s eighth track, North American For Life, is basically what most punk aspires to be but cannot either by disastrous ignorance or a total lack of poetic ability. But Good spins this yarn and others like it that espouse his beliefs in ways that are bound to touch the listener, either through subtlety or sheer vehemence. NDP leader Jack Layton probably could have swayed more voters in the English language debate that occurred the day this record was released by simply bringing a stereo and playing White Light whenever addressed.
“Put out your lights,” Matt shouts to open the album. “Sit on your hands for the new national anthem.” Within the first thirty seconds of this record there should be very little doubt in your mind about what you will receive. This is political music at its most clever, its most poetic; “blinders for your beasts of burden/ the will for learning/ these books were made for burning.”
But the lyrics are beautiful as well as political; sincere as well as opinionated. We’re So Heavy in particular is brilliantly penned, and concludes with the touchingly sung question, “How can you love Jove, Drusilla, and forsake Rome?” The poignantly put lyric makes this one of the most emotionally intense moments on the record.
In a move that will shock listeners accustomed to Matt’s obscure and eloquent lyrics, White Light also gets in the trenches with bold statements of political fury that leave little to the imagination. North American For Life again personifies this, with a raging political assault. “Yeah motherfucker we’re number one/ All out of beer so go get your gun,” Matt yells, self-referencing his own music video. Then comes the real kicker; “George is teaching the kids to fight/ Look at the world and tell me it’s all right.” I’ll give you three guesses as to which George he means.
Some people may be afraid of what all this overt political posturing; I heard lyrical excerpts from this album beforehand and I certainly was. Such music is so often stilted, uninformed, idiotic and boring that one wonders if the lead singer is ashamed to be saying what he is. Punk rock in particular, where I believe the average IQ of the political rocker is somewhere around that of a shrub, suffers from this. But Good addresses these issues with enough intelligence, enough experience and perhaps enough jaded cynicism that it’s okay for him to mention George Bush by name.
In many ways, this is also one of Matthew Good’s most musically experienced albums. He approaches the idea of a traditional rock album with both a knowing swagger and a humility that allows the songs to speak for themselves. The trademark MG range is back, with basic guitar-rock tracks like Put Out Your Lights and catchy alt-rock tunes like Alert Status Red mixing in with the melodic sentimentality of Blue Skies Over Bad Lands, and even what may be traces of alt-country in Empty Road.
The expert instrumentals paint a picture of a man comfortable enough with his own abilities as a songwriter to record off the floor with a basic four-piece band. A man comfortable enough with his own voice to shout when the song demands it, and still able to demonstrate his remarkable vocal range to hit notes that would make Chris Martin blush and probably rethink his life. Good has nothing to prove to anyone. Nothing on this album is unnecessary or present as a demonstration.
The influence of Avalanche is definitely felt, but not in the manner you’d expect; it is infinitely clear to anyone who has followed Matthew Good’s career that Avalanche was a catharsis, an opportunity to experiment with everything he was never allowed to use in MGB; orchestral arrangements, the piano as a primary focus, epic songwriting that never would have been accepted in a contemporary rock band. He’s gotten that out of his system, and it’s back to being about the songs, now.
In fact, some of the tracks were recorded off the floor with a basic four-piece; as such, this is an album with a distinctly more raw feel than anything else Matt has ever done, even including the MGB’s first independent effort, Last of the Ghetto Astronauts. The rawness suits the subject matter and songwriting perfectly, however. In fact, if these songs had received the Avalanche treatment, it would have killed the brazen nature that makes them so incredibly compelling.
As always, what adds an enormous amount of worth to these songs is Good’s ability to inject the critical element hope into the most dismal and dark of tunes. This is a skill he shares with Thom Yorke of Radiohead, and almost all other great bands that write serious, important music. It isn’t particularly difficult to write something dismal and hopeless, but to revel in that hopelessness and indeed, find salvation in it is something Good excels at. Matthew Good both laughs at his own music’s downbeat nature and takes it seriously enough to find rays of sunshine.
From the deceptively simple licks of Alert Status Red to the nonchalant glory of the acoustic Empty Road, to the atmospheric, meandering brilliance of We’re So Heavy, this is an album that knows exactly what it wants to be and how to strike an emotional chord with the listener. Avalanche’s title track was a song that amounted to a titanic effort to convey sentiment in the most epic form possible. For all of its carefully-doctored theatrics and experimental brilliance, however, it is still not as touching as We’re So Heavy. Even White Light’s obligatory love song, It’s Been Awhile Since I Was Your Man is much more mature than Avalanche’s Song For the Girl.
All of this gushing isn’t without hesitation, however. As I said, if you are of a different political alignment than Mr. Good, you will not find anything to like in this album. But then, if you are, you probably won’t want to; this sort of music isn’t made for you. Admittedly, the one shortfall of this record is its less-than-stellar closing track, Ex-Pats of the Blue Mountain Symphony Orchestra. I admit I wasn’t enthused with Avalanche’s closer, House of Smoke and Mirrors, either, and I do realize I was in the minority with regard to this. Excellent or not I don’t believe Ex-Pats has the emotional depth to effectively close an album this good. I would have gone with Blue Skies over Bad Lands; giving Ex-Pats such a pivotal role was, in my opinion, not a wise decision. That said, it is a good song, and I’ll let it speak for itself.
It’s a twist of irony that the reason White Light Rock & Roll Review will probably be remembered most is its simplicity. Avalanche was an album that took the listener on an epic journey through Matthew Good’s mind; in both scope and sound it was truly expansive. Average track length was probably something like five minutes, compared with which some of White Light’s songs seem to fly by. But for all of that manufacturing, White Light will ultimately be remembered as the superior album. In making it, Good was unafraid to put his “intellectual” reputation on the line to create brilliantly simple rock and roll, as the title suggests. And in doing so, he actually lends his ideas much more credence.
And by the way, wait a minute or two after Ex-Pats ends for the bonus track. Don't expect anything as genius as Omissions of the Omen, but enjoy.
