Weird Al Yankovic – Straight Outta Lynwood
There’s nothing quite like Weird Al Yankovic firing on all cylinders. Much moreso than most of the targets of his satire, the man has a talent that defies time’s every attempt to pass him by. He’s even endured the wrath of a few of the artists he’s parodied (such as Coolio), or their labels (Atlantic actually vetoed a song that was recorded for this album – and so, unable to sell it, Weird Al released it for free on his web site). He’s definitely a force to be reckoned with.
And yet, if there’s one problem with Straight Outta Lynwood, it’s that this album is nothing like Weird Al firing on all cylinders. There’s a roughly equal number of hits and misfires here. When the songs hit their target, whether they’re parodies or originals, they’re some of the best of his career. “Don’t Download This Song” is a wickedly funny original that picks on everything from ’80s Chicago to bloated “We Are The World”-style all-star charity epics. “Virus Alert” sets the now-ubiquitous virus hoax e-mail trend to tremendously catchy music. And of course, there’s the biggest hit single of Weird Al’s career, “White & Nerdy.” I also have to single out the surreal “Weasel Stomping Day” and “Polkarama” – the obligatory polka medley of current top 40 hits – for special praise.
Where it misfires, though, Lynwood misses by quite a margin. “Pancreas” is a “style parody” of classic Beach Boys ballads (with a special emphasis on “God Only Knows” though it steers clear of mocking any single song musically) that just never quite comes in for a landing. A certain overblown R. Kelly pseudo-epic becomes the fodder for “Trapped In The Drive-Thru”, which is one of those songs that’s funny the first time around, but as with a lot of Weird Al’s longer songs (I’m looking at you, “Genius In France”), it grates on repeat 
listening (“Albuquerque”, it ain’t). And maybe I’m missing the joke, but “Canadian Idiot” seems atypically mean-spirited for Al.
All this being said, I still give Straight Outta Lynwood high marks, because on average, I’d rather listen to half of a good Weird Al album than an entire album from most of the targets of his satire.
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- White & Nerdy (2:50)
- Pancreas (3:48)
- Canadian Idiot (2:23)
- I’ll Sue Ya (3:51)
- Polkarama (4:54)
- Virus Alert (3:46)
- Confessions Part III (3:52)
- Weasel Stomping Day (1:34)
- Close But No Cigar (3:55)
- Do I Creep You Out (2:46)
- Trapped In The Drive-Thru (10:51)
- Don’t Download This Song (3:54)
Released by: Volcano
Release date: 2006
Total running time: 48:24
As with the TV series it accompanied, the music of Lost really ramps up the stakes in season two. Where it’s scary, it’s much more boisterous and scary than season 1, and where it’s mysterious, it’s much more mysterious. There are quieter moments too, including the piano piece from what still stands as my favorite episode to date, Everybody Hates Hugo.
like Mama Cass Elliot’s “Make Your Own Kind Of Music,” you’d think someone would’ve put together an official “Songs heard on Lost” compilation by now.
With any slate of back catalogue reissues, you’re already running the risk of the consumer saying “been there, done that.” But it takes talent to achieve the same effect when it comes to the added-value bonus material. Maybe that’s a little unfair; as with the other ELO remasters to date, 1973’s On The Third Day has never sounded better. The apocalyptic-sounding fusion of strings and the closest ELO ever came to heavy metal positively sparkles, and the liner notes finally give a little bit of insight into the making of the album; with its bizarre, quasi-Biblical themes, Third Day has never ceased to fascinate me. It’s territory ELO hadn’t ventured into before, and never ventured into again.
Picking up work on a late ’90s solo album where he left off – originally, the album was called A Gift Of Screws and would’ve been a follow-up released only a few years after Out Of The Cradle – Lindsey Buckingham goes into territory that quite a few of his loyal fans will find unfamiliar: the music is stripped down to its bare essentials, sometimes almost all-acoustic, without the trademark elaborate studio production which became the trademark of his early work and his heyday with Fleetwood Mac. But there’s something just as elaborate about Under The Skin, though instead of studio trickery, what’s elaborate here is Buckingham’s sheer staggering musicianship.
I’m generally not a huge fan of live albums – why bother, when studio albums deliver the meat and potatoes minus the screaming? – but every once in a while I’m either enthusiastic or curious enough about a specific act to go ahead and check out a concert recording. I was a little bit skeptical going into Royksopp’s Night Out, simply because Royksopp relies so heavily on technology, sampling and other studio techniques to create their sound – could they deliver the goods without that at their disposal?
Almost a year after one of its songs (“Winter Light”) made a surprise appearance on the soundtrack from the big-budget, big-screen adaptation of The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe, Tim Finn’s new album is here at last, presenting a somewhat more polished and sedate sound than his previous two solo efforts, and yet with hints of some of his past musical endeavours.
The idea behind the L.E.O. sessions were simple – indie pop artist Bleu Macauley and friends, acquaintances and colleagues from across North America would combine their talents, often by long distance, to create a tribute to the style, if not necessarily specific songs, of Jeff Lynne and ELO. Aside from Blue, just a few of the artists involved include Andy Sturmer (formerly of Jellyfish), the Hanson brothers (yes, those Hanson brothers), and quite a few others who have cut their teeth on the indie-label power pop circuit. And right from the first full song, it’s clear that the L.E.O. collective is settling for nothing less than an homage to ELO’s glory years – the period stretching from Face The Music through Out Of The Blue.
After some sidesteps into rootsy country music influences, Jars Of Clay resumes their rock ‘n’ roll course with Good Monsters. Some country influences are still on display, but the past two albums’ flirtation with roots music really seemed to obscure what drew such an audience to the Jars in the first place: these guys can flat-out rock. The first single, “Dead Man (Carry Me)”, is one of the rockiest songs on the album, but it gives you a fair idea of what to expect here – decent, guitar-driven rock, maybe without leaning on studio technique as much as the group’s first two albums, strong vocals with great harmony work, and overall just a return to the group’s more familiar, catchy sound.