The Fashion - Self Titled
I never know whether to feel impressed or terrified when foreigners trump Americans at something we created (See: Dirk Nowitzki winning the NBA MVP award). The same goes for the Fashion, a four-piece from Copenhagen. Their 2008 self-titled release was the best rock released this year.
Their album is devoid of abstract metaphors or melancholic odes about failed relationships, both seemingly prerequisites for rating on “Best Of” lists nowadays. Instead, the Fashion simply produces song after song of innovative, guitar-driven, danceable pop music. “Solo Impala,” with its string intro and catchy chorus, is sure to make feet move and heads bang. The up-tempo “Letters from the Ambulance” showcases Jakob Printzlau’s fervent vocals and fluid lyrics.
The only downside to The Fashion is that there just isn’t enough of it, clocking in at a mere 35 minutes. But since it’s only the band’s second album, let’s hope we haven’t heard the last of these great Danes.
—Jordan Axt
Ryan Adams - Cardinology
With Cardinology, alt-country’s Amy Winehouse continues his remarkable winning streak. The album, which derives its kitschy name from Adams’ excellent backing band, feels like an improved version of last year’s Easy Tiger. The similarities between the two releases are bizarre—from the sound to the song sequencing to the cover-art color scheme. But Easy Tiger didn’t satisfy for some reason, never quite quenching appetites despite good musicianship and some great songs. Cardinology is far more fulfilling, ineffably working where its predecessor did not.
Well, actually, not entirely ineffably. First, there are fewer songs in the melodic-but-dull category. Second, there’s a harder edge, but still plenty of twang. Third, although Adams insists on including one silly rocker on each record, the bizarre “Magick” (sample lyrics: “You’re like a storm tower/if it had fire power/Everything you touch burns/Scorched earth/Water tower burned up to the ground/Zombies runnin’ all around”) is a vast improvement over Easy Tiger’s mortifying “Halloween Head.” With luck, this record is the harbinger of a period that balances the effusive but unfocused genius of Adams’ three-albums-a-year phase with his more recent steadiness.
—David Graham
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