Where The Sun Never Sets

I recently returned from a rather surreal spring break trip to visit my uncle in Manhattan Beach, California. Having not paid meticulous attention to the movie Blow (important note: Manhattan Beach is featured BEFORE the cocaine!), my only expectation was to relax and spend time in the sun. Both of these expectations certainly came true, but what unfolded in my ephemeral 96 hour sojourn proved to be an indelible, incredible experience. Manhattan Beach is in many ways like the quaint NW Portland neighborhood in which I live, only with more sun, a Pacific shore, and what has to be the highest concentration of beautiful women on the planet. Hmmm...OK...so maybe it isn't too similar to my neighborhood, but Manhattan Beach and NW Portland certainly share a strong sense of identity and community. The tight social network that links people, places, and ideas reminded me very much of my northern neighborhood, as did the appreciation for foot and pedal power -- yes, this appreciation actually exists within Los Angeles County! And to add to the similarities, I was pleasantly surprised to discover the Manhattan Beach Brewing Company near the pier, serving me delicious pints of chocalate porter and blonde ale as an homage to Portland's eminent domain. Yes, Manhattan Beach was in many ways the 30-something reflection of my 20-something NW neighborhood.

But then there is the "scene". This scene -- or maybe "seen" in the L.A. lexicon -- is one of the most aggresive displays of social and sexual feathers outside of a horny peacock (see picutres!). Not that this was necessarily a bad thing, but it was certainly something that heaved me into unfamiliar territory. Money weaves through every conversational stitch, while sex seems to be a nervous fidget to avoid even the slightest hint of boredom. In a sense, the gain on this system is maxed, turning the lows somewhere near hell, and highs near heaven. Naturally, any system like this can easily distort, leaving the listener (which would be my child-like self!) running to Mommy with their hands over their ears. For fairness, Manhattan Beach is a few insulation pads removed from it's younger hedonist neighbor, Hermosa Beach. I actually found myself stone-cold sober in the corner of a club completely nonplussed at the human spectacle before me. Shock and Awe, indeed. But since I truly was nonplussed, I will have to shy away from any description. I do, however, remember thinking, "Even the Roman Empire eventually fell". I'm not exactly sure what that means, but it was somehow perfectly apposite.

Ahem. Back to Manhattan Beach. A blissful bubble from rainly Portland and certainly from ___(insert negative adjective here)___ nearby Los Angeles. I watched a crimson sunset from my uncle's deck every single night, attempted surfing (but not without a possible broken rib...don't worry, I'm fine), rode bikes up and down the Pacific rim of the South Bay, gawked at some of the most incredible bodies I've ever seen (albeit mostly "fake," if you know what I mean), listened to 1960's records on my dad's original Klipsch Cornwall speakers, sped through the Malibu hills in a sun-gleamed convertible Porsche, and, most importantly, reconnected with an uncle that I share more in common with than my genes can probably transcribe. Yes, the experience was "intensely relaxing," a phrase that was still an oxymoron only one week ago. Yet, upon departing from this fantasy land, I realized that I needed a vacation from my vacation. The seduction of Manhattan Beach is not one to flirt with for too long, at least not for an aspiring Ph.D. student such as myself. But, like a dirty secret, it's enticing to know that Manhattan Beach is always whispering for another date -- a date that I'll gladly accept in the future.

Someone To Remember

The name to remember is Matt Hales, not Aqualung. Matt hales, “The Man” behind the Aqualung curtain, has nothing to do with the Jethro Tull album, Aqualung, but has everything to do with beautiful music that Coldplay, U2, and Radiohead wish they would have written for their next albums. But comparing Matt Hales to the Britpopithon champions does a disservice to the unfeigned talent documented on Memory Man, Matt Hales latest and greatest musical effort.

For the unintroduced, Aqualung came onto the British charts in 2002 with the lusciously-wet ballad, “Strange and Beautiful,” which was later usurped by Volkswagon to sell cars (yeah, a slight bummer, but easily forgiven). The Norwegian Invasion aside, Matt Hales was not in good timing to catch the ear of Americans already saturated with Blood Rushing to Their Heads, Beautiful Days, and Hailing Thieves. But then Matt released the song “Brighter Than Sunshine” in 2005 and the U.S. could no longer ignore Aqualung. Matt’s first two British releases were combined, pruned, star-spangled-wrapped, and sold as the album “Strange & Beautiful” in the U.S. The result was an elegant archive of a piano wunderkind coming into his own. Memory Man, released last month, is this wunderkind maturing into a bona fide, indelible musician worthy of accolades -- of which I’m about to deeply exhale. While there are no songs that deserve the double-arrowed digital skip button, I will focus on just a few of the tracks in observance of “The Whole Brevity Thing,” your Dudeness.

The opening track, “Cinderella,” wastes no time getting to the point of Memory Man: this album will be edgier and more ambitious than the Aqualung of the past. Aside from being one of the best opening tracks I’ve ever heard, joining the ranks of U2’s “Where The Streets Have No Name” and Fugazi’s “Waiting Room,” Cinderella showcases a complexity that I equate to a falling dollar bill: unpredictable, yet gracefully directed. Trying to catch this dollar bill left me pleasantly frustrated (which is possible!), so I decided to surrender to Matt’s tenacious grip on the musical wheel. There are chord changes and song structure psych-outs that are impossible to predict upon the first few listens. These qualities are truly rare on pop albums and set the stage for what Memory Man has to offer. But Cinderella may be Matt’s own surrender to influences like U2, Bjork, Radiohead, Travis, and Coldplay -- influences that persist throughout the album’s entirety. Every suspended twist of Cinderella is an ephemeral nod to some of my generation’s greatest. Yet, with help from masterful production prowess (more on that later), Matt finds his own ground to stand on, an unclaimed plot of the musical landscape comfortably disparate from more hackneyed territory.

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Cinderella is followed by “Pressure Suit,” a glossy, yet jagged (think icebergs) pop song, and likely the first single from the album. In fact, Pressure Suit may be a “Perfect Pop Song”. Some may cringe at such a distinction, but, again, I have to surrender: Pressure Suit is an undeniable feat of pop brilliance on par with the best. The song is catchy (OK, extremely catchy), symmetric, yet complicated enough to avoid austerity. Yes, a perfect pop song.

“Something To Believe In,” the third track on Memory Man, seamlessly continues Matt’s audacious sound experiment. This song begins with a stripped-down electronic tap that builds like a slow-motion flower bloom, showing you the sonic core only during the final verse. Like Cinderella, this song showcases a heavier, aggressive sound that is a new direction for Matt. But Something To Believe In proves that this new formula works. The edge of the drums, swirling guitars, and distorted vocals in the final moments provide a fitting gusto to secure Matt’s beautifully frail voice. It is precisely this sort of symmetric elegance that takes Memory Man a step (or two) ahead of Aqualung’s previous albums.

Last but certainly not least, “Outside” is -- simply put -- a tune that sounds like U2 should have thought of for their next single. But apparently Matt Hales thought of it first (Doh!). The staccato guitars that ring through most of the track are just screaming for The Edge to rip in his 2(thousand) cents, while the chorus taunts Bono to float his raspy yodeling. But alas, Matt is restrained enough (or maybe cocky enough) to comfortably claim this song as his own. Like “Pressure Suit,” “Outside” is another perfect pop song, leaving you humming the chorus for days and feeling those goose bumps as the song moves out of its bridge and into its weightless chorus. So take that, Bono.

Obviously I love Memory Man. In fact, I doubt I could write a more glowing review. But how is it deserving of such accolades when my review is littered with references to other musicians? What about originality? Enter Ben Hales, Matt’s brother and the mastermind puppeteer that makes Memory Man a success. The production on Memory Man is incredible. What were undoubtably single-track piano tunes were differentially expanded to make one of the most textured, three dimensional sounds I’ve heard on a pop album. Not everyone appreciates this style of mega-production, and being a Ryan Adams fan/stalker, I have utmost respect for a raw recording. But, unlike Ryan Adams, Matt’s song writing may best resemble a bird in a vacuum: gracefully talented but without a medium with which to fly. Ben’s production provides the sweeping air currents with which Matt’s melodies can soar in originality. The result is one of the best recordings I’ve heard in years that is the Memory Man. And that is both Something To Believe In and something to remember.

Aqualung will be playing May 14th at the Wonder Ballroom in Portland.