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Title: Heartbeat Artist: The Fray 23 plays

Every so often, an album comes around that breaks all the rules. It disregards previous efforts, takes no notice of what people may think of it, and reinvents the wheel.

After sales of its self-titled 2009 sophomore album fell far short of 2005’s “How To Save A Life,” The Fray pushes to “put it all back together” on its latest album, Scars & Stories. The Denver quartet shakes things up with new producer Brendan O’Brien, and many of the dozen songs achieve the kind of meatiness that the group approached tentatively on The Fray. The troupe’s stock in trade remains frontman Isaac Slade’s earnest lyricism and a lush, anthemic ambience that marks similar territory to U2 and Coldplay on tracks like “The Fighter,” “Run for Your Life,” and “Munich.”

The saving grace is that The Fray stirs the pot just barely enough. Sure, it isn’t changing a lot, but there is enough variation within the exhausted formula that it feels just fresh enough to keep fans listening. 

The Fray’s upbeat moments are easily their strongest. Arguably, the best track on the album, “Munich,” is an up-tempo soft rock song that quickly builds, filtering in violin with the usual piano-driven sound. 

The opening power ballad, “Heartbreak,” chimed with an unmistakable similarity to their previous releases that all prior accusations of being a ‘poor man’s Coldplay,’ rang ever more true. The song is pleasant enough, but it lacks the catchiness and kick that The Fray’s previous big hits have had.

Elsewhere, “Turn Me On” mines the white-bread funk of Maroon 5, “48 To Go” offers a rootsy mainland U.S.A. travelogue, and the lullaby “Be Still” closes the album with a gentle Celtic tinge. The verdict: It’s not a complete overhaul, but Scars & Stories pushes things perceptibly forward.

The Smiths

It is one of life’s greatest pleasures to be given the chance to watch the demigod Morrissey perform live. The Moz had an enduring success in his solo career, but nothing compares to the work he did with The Smiths, the immortal alternative-rock group whose songs epitomized lyrical literacy and musical jangle. They’re considered as the most important band to emerge from the British independent music scene in the 1980s.

The Smiths were formed in Manchester just as Margaret Thatcher’s reign as Prime Minister was getting into full swing. They were made up of the misanthropic lead vocalist Morrissey, Johnny Marr (guitars), Andy Rourke (bass), and Mike Joyce (drums). They penned some of the most romantic, despairing, and darkly-comic music ever to come out of England.

Making a list of my favorite The Smiths songs is much like a parent being asked which kid they love best. There really is no definitive answer, other than to say I love all of their work. The only certainty is, right now, “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” is my favorite The Smiths song of all time.

I’ll start with these five gems.

“How Soon Is Now” (Meat Is Murder, 1985)

Morrissey loathes his social anxiety issues in this compelling track. It’s a definite contender for the most famous song the group recorded and also one of their best, with the music rumbling below Morrissey in the mix, with a whole load of distortion amid Marr’s effects. For a band that specialized in intimacy, “How Soon Is Now” works surprisingly well as an ‘80s anthem. A cover of the song by Love Spit Love was used as the theme song of the hit TV series, Charmed for all eight of its seasons.

“Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want” (Louder Than Bombs, 1987)

This track does such a searing job of capturing romantic longing and unrequited love. Marr’s guitar work here commands most of the attention, as his precision expertly drives the song’s achingly deliberate rhythm. But it’s not like Morrissey’s spare lyrics recede into the background in any way, as once again he makes brooding self-pity feel well-earned and warranted instead of just like the complaints of any random drama queen. If the ‘less is more’ philosophy has ever been used more effectively in pop music to communicate life-gripping despair, I certainly can’t come up with an example.

“Bigmouth Strikes Again” (The Queen Is Dead, 1986)

Perhaps no band within the early alternative-rock scene could sound as simultaneously buoyant and menacing as The Smiths, thanks to Morrissey’s haunting croon and cockeyed lyrical anger paired with Marr’s lively chord progressions. The opening lines to this track come on like a serial killer in the best possible way of which music is capable. Complete with chilling, high-pitched vocals from Morrissey himself, the song plumbs typical The Smiths depths of the human psyche, all the way from self-hatred to self-martyrdom and back. Comparisons to Joan of Arc notwithstanding, Morrissey demonstrated a complex self-evaluation unmatched in pop music.

“Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” (Hatful Of Hollow, 1984)

This jaunty tune showcases the keen ability of Marr and Morrissey to make music worthy of the intense sinking feeling reserved for only the most genuine, sobbing depression. Its melodic beauty holds a fierce power made even more piercing by the spare but breathtaking lyric that stands as one of the most affectingly accurate portraits of despair in all of pop music. For anyone who’s ever been happy ‘in the haze of a drunken hour’ and clung to the moment in a futile attempt to ward off the inevitable creeping dread of sobriety, this tune probes at an open wound in the soul. Perhaps there’s no badge of honor that comes from identifying with Morrissey’s uncanny grasp of psychological paralysis, but there is an enormous amount of truth there.

“There Is A Light That Never Goes Out” (The World Won’t Listen, 1987)

This is one of the most beautiful songs of the ’80s, an intensely personal declaration of desperate love that perfectly fits the quintessential teen love affair prototype: “I’d be happy to die for you.” The blend of Marr’s lovely verse melodies with the simply stated but incalculable emotion of Morrissey’s lyrics is nothing short of exquisite. In truth, I’m not sure if uncontrolled devotion that requires the participation of body, soul, and spirit can be expressed any better than the lyrics of this song.

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Title: Wala Na Tayo Artist: BBS (feat. Kean Cipriano) 10 plays

Big Band Syndicate (BBS) doesn’t mince words on what it is. “An all-star band that will produce pop songs,” says on their Facebook page, and their debut, Ctrl+Alt+Del = Restart is living proof of that manifesto.

The album is at its most faithful. It’s safe and clean—the kind that is bound to be played on radio stations and never fails to top the local weekly charts.

They, in the case of BBS, are Darwin Hernandez of Soupstar Entertainment and Rye Sarmiento of 6cyclemind. They are the brains behind this project, and the ones responsible for bringing together big names in the industry to collaborate and craft radio-friendly melodies. It’s a project that’s not short on talent with, among others, Wendell Garcia, Raimund Marasigan, Buddy Zabala, and Jay Durias lending their chops to the album. Kean Cipriano of Callalily handles the singing chores with enthusiasm.

It is no surprise, therefore, that Ctrl+Alt+Del = Restart is proficient at what it does. It hits the right notes, progresses to a swell where it should, and quiets down to a hum when it must. The fact that the album rarely breaks away from convention makes it easy to listen to.

The opening licks on “Bata” injecting energy right away, which suits a song that talks about feeling like a child in love. OPM has always been hopelessly romantic, and “Habang Buhay” is a reflection of that. The accompaniments seem to be just as intoxicated with that thought and “Wala Na Tayo” explores a well-worn theme further.

Indeed, the avenues that Ctrl+Alt+Del = Restart takes you to are all very familiar. There is no danger of getting lost. It knows what it is, and knows what its audience wants to hear. If you’re looking for something fresher, don’t look for it here, because it’s tedium you might find. But if you’re after harmless tunes that sing about what OPM songs are known to sing about, then Ctrl+Alt+Del = Restart should fit to your liking like a glove.

Alphabeat - Vacation

Yes, it’s a Tuesday morning and Daylight Saving Time is a total drag, but as pop act Alphabeat from Silkeborg, Denmark declared on their irresistible, smile-inducing new single, sad faces are a definite no-go. It’s the first offering from the band’s upcoming third LP, which is due out in late June. Book a ticket and head below to experience “Vacation.”

Alphabeat is great at making ’80s house throwback tracks that sound like they could actually have charted during the ’80s. There’s “The Spell,” “10,000 Nights,” and so many other sleeker-track singles that all sound instantly familiar.

The band is clearly in the mood to get us all primed for summer with their vibrant and impossibly upbeat video. In fact, you might want to slip on your shades while watching this impressibly jaunty clip, fronted by Stine Bramsen and Anders SG.

You’ve probably noted this is chipper to the point of being saccharine, but that’s par for this particular course. That said, Alphabeat’s generally consistent with these things, and “Vacation” packs more hooks per second compared to how some other tracks manage for their entire run-length. The agitated synth-guitar and bridge alone would be enough.

Lest we forget, this is a summer track, a vacation song. Guilty pleasure ahoy. Just because you’re packing a little light this year doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself.

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Title: Cute Without The 'E' (Cut From The Team) Artist: Taking Back Sunday 133 plays

Waves of nostalgia went over fans as Taking Back Sunday closed their set with “Cute Without The ‘E’ (Cut From The Team)” during their concert at the SM City North EDSA Skydome last April 13.

It’s tough to deny that Taking Back Sunday set the scene on fire for much of the last decade. The band’s critically acclaimed 2002 release, Tell All Your Friends went on to make a massive impression in the scene, influencing countless bands after it. The album became a cornerstone of a genre and cemented Taking Back Sunday as legends and forefathers in the history books of the budding emo and pop punk scene.

Personally, Tell All Your Friends was full of standouts. “You Know How I Do,” “Ghost Man On Third,” and “You’re So Last Summer,” while sounding somewhat similar, all captured the excellence of the entire album. Moderately paced and with a flair for the dramatic, each track symbolized the sound Taking Back Sunday so effortlessly captured.

It’s hard to find an album that consists of songs of such depth and connection. The album felt natural—an off-the-cuff endeavor that saw the band at their most creative. Their confidence made the entire effort stave off sounding hackneyed or contrived. The dual layered vocals, the simple, yet effective instrumentation, and the ridiculous catchiness of it all coalesced to make each track listenable.

Musically, there really isn’t a lot here to tear down conventions. It’s solid and it was easily one of the most consistent albums of the last decade. More importantly, it captivated an entire scene and an entire age. The amount of Warped Tour garbage that polluted the airwaves and television was almost too much to bear, but suddenly, a band that seemed genuine and honest appeared. Pop punk wasn’t a scarlet letter, but a badge of honor. Regardless of what the band has become, Tell All Your Friends stands as an achievement up to this day.