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Year Zero is good on so many levels I barely know where to begin. As an album it is solid. When With-a Teeth-ah! came out, I complained that it was a decent album, but not really a progression of the NIN sound. Year Zero sounds like nothing you've heard before. In many ways it is the anti-Downward Spiral. Where that album was the very inward-looking story of someone falling apart personally, YZ is the story of the world around us falling apart, a sci-fi epic that's set in the near future which is really just an exaggeration of how things are now, taken to their logical conclusion. It's a tremendous evolution for an artist famed for his introspective (and, at times, self-pitying) lyrics, to actually take a look around at the world as it is, and write a really powerful protest album as a response. This even comes across sonically- TDS was a very organic album, lots of analog instruments and heartbeats and insect noises. The thesis behind YZ is that it is a warning signal, sent from the future to tell us how things will be- and consequently it is a very digital album, lots of pure tones and beeps, synthesized drums and harsh, staccato noises.

I won't write a track-by-track review of the songs (for that, please check out Jammer's awesome review, which echoes my thoughts very precisely), because I don't think it's really a track-by-track album. I've had friends listen to individual tracks of the album and say they don't find it appealing. That's the equivalent of reading a random chapter in a book and then complaining that it's confusing. It's meant to be listened to end-on-end. There's a very distinct forward progression- each song is the viewpoint of a character in this future-world: first the world is set up, then it is developed, then it is destroyed. It was not designed to be put on shuffle. The death of the album has been heralded by many, but this is definitely one of the last 'story' albums, and should be respected as such.

Beyond the album, you may have heard of the Year Zero ARG. There's been some debate about what this is, exactly- a game, a marketing campaign, a website. Trent says it should not be viewed as a game, just part of the album, and I tend to agree. I see it as one of the booklets that come with an album, except it spans across twenty web-pages and is at times interactive. Basically it just deepens the story laid forth in the album, giving context to certain songs and fleshing out different characters that the songs introduced. At first I was suspicious of the idea, but once you realize it's not a marketing campaign, it really falls into place as part of the story of the album. This is a really ground-breaking an inspiring idea, and I'm so pleased that one of my favourite bands has, again, exceeded my expectations. Navigating from page-to-page, filling in the story as you go, really is a great pleasure- like reading a good book or playing a good text-based adventure. If you enjoy the album, do spend a bit of time browsing through the associated sites, it really can be fun. Feels less like an album than the start of a movement.

Not satisfied with breaking ground on YZ, the remix album goes a step further- the album (which is really, really good- it's not just a remix album (and, truth be told, NIN remix albums are always a bit disappointing), it's actually an alternate version of the original album- that is, it tells the same story, but in a different way. It's hard to explain, but even if you don't like YZ, check out the remix album, it's really dancing and different and awesome) comes with a second disc, which contains all the individual source files that make up all the songs, so you can create your own remixes. They've also set up an awesome remix site where you can upload and share your own remixes. It's a really nicely designed site and you can literally spend all day browsing through mixes, making playlists- it's great fun (especially as every 'official' NIN remix from albums past is included [and downloadable!] on the site, including the very rare Perfect Drug remixes- way cool). All the source files can be downloaded from there, as well: go and have a play.

I should take a moment to mention The Limitless Potential, the fan-made remix album that was released for free shortly before the official remix album. I've given this a listen and, basically, it's too fucking long. 21 tracks? Songs that weren't even on YZ? Learn to edit. This could have been a really good, tight remix album. Instead it is bogged down by too many unessential mixes. If it had been kept to 16 tracks it could have been awesome.

So, put it altogether, and you've got two great albums, an infinite number of fan-made songs all free on the web, plus the cool, novelesque ARG. That's a lot of good shit from one concept. Go to!

[Oh, and by the way? When you put the disc for YZ in your CD player, it is black. When it comes out again...it's white. First time this happened, it seriously freaked me out.]

So yesterday I mentioned the flaws in Radiohead's online release plan and wished they'd just do it right. Well, someone did, and that someone was Saul Williams, whom I have praised before on this site and on the destruct/hour. In this new model, you either pay nothing for a decent-quality version of the full album, or you pay $5 for a version of the album in any quality you like, including lossless encoding. This was more like it- no marketing gimmick, the real deal. It wasn't even going to get a traditional release. Each mp3 came tagged with lyrics and art, and a PDF of artwork and lyrics, like a giant booklet. It felt like the future. Plus it was Saul Williams collaborating with Trent Reznor, so I expected something spectacular.

Only problem was: It wasn't that great an album. It's interesting, for sure. I listen to it a lot, and will continue to in the future (although certainly less so). I really want to like it. But when I try to think of a standout track, or a track I'd really recommend to someone as being awesome, I draw a blank. In many ways it is a companion piece to Year Zero, which I will discuss tomorrow- they were written over the same period, on tour, with a lot of input from both Saul and Trent. A lot of the music is sonically difficult to listen to, a lot of harsh noises and drum effects. But unlike that album, TIR&LoNT! does not have the cohesive theme, story and conclusion that pays off listening to the album as a whole. It's kind of a mess- an interesting mess, with some pleasing moments and lyrics, but nothing to make you sit up and take notice, or start singing to yourself.

And for every moment of 'that's cool', there's a counterpoint of 'that's really annoying'. If the title makes you cringe, then you will be a tiny ball of skin by the time you've listened to the whole album. Ultimately, though, it's not offensive, but it's not unplfiting either- and a lot of Saul's earlier work really is. So I was a bit disappointed. It's not a great hip-hop album, but it is an interesting experiment, and worth a listen, but I certainly can't wholeheartedly recommend it, because it's an experiment that often goes wrong. I wonder how well it has done, as I imagine most people would download it for free 'to see how it sounded' before going back to buy the higher-quality version, and while I did pay before listening, I'm not sure I would have, if I'd decided to get the preview first.

You can download the album, for free, here.

Forgive me for missing the controversy by several months, but it's near impossible to talk about the revolution in the way music is being distributed and paid for without bringing up In Rainbows, the stellar Radiohead album that was released, as everyone knows, via digital distribution, where the customer paid whatever they wished for the download- down to and including nothing at all.

My original intention was to pay twice the price I would pay for a normal album from iTunes- about $30. Not just because I love Radiohead (although I do), but because I liked the idea of what they were doing. Screw the labels, screw the distributors, direct communion between the musicians and the fans. I was genuinely excited about the whole idea. Then the details started to trickle in. First was the audio quality- it was low. Then their agent slipped up- the 'real' album was being released early next year, with additional tracks. It was basically a promo disc for the forthcoming album- and I was being asked to pay for it. Now, I have to admit, it's a pretty good idea- why wait for pirates to put your album out for free when you can do it yourself and get paid? And while I don't know how much they made exactly, I heard it was a lot.

I ended up playing three pounds, or about $8. That's pretty good for a promo album, considering I'll be buying the genuine article when it comes out, just as they intended. Because the bottom line is: it's a great album, and I'd be happy to have the extra tracks, and the higher quality that a CD entails. But I really feel like they missed an opportunity. Why not release the entire thing as a full album, at CD-quality? I'd pay a fixed price for that- hell, I do, all the time, on iTunes. I'm still giving most of my money to either a label or to Apple. I'd rather give all my money straight to Radiohead, but they inexplicably don't give me the option. What seemed exciting and revolutionary ended up just being a bit frustrating. Fortunately a very short while later, Niggy Tardust was released with exactly this model- more on that album tomorrow.

As for the album, distinct from the hype, do I really need to review it? If you're a Radiohead fan, you'll have it by now, and you'll love it. If not, you're a dingus already- go get it (it's free). It's brilliant. A bit short, for the reason already listed. But all the songs are gold, not a lemon among them. The Bends is still, and will ever be, my favourite Radiohead album, but this sits comfortably with OK Computer, although sonically it is quite different- this is much more mellow. Great to sing along with. Upliftingly depressing.

The album is downloadable here. Can't wait for the real thing.

I've got a funny old relationship with music. On the one hand I can't live without it, listen to it constantly, get untold amounts of energy and inspiration and enjoyment out of it, and some of my happiest moments are dancing at live gigs. On the other hand...I hate most music. Most music sucks ass. It's a taint, a blight on the audioscape of my surroundings. I can't escape it. It brings me down, how bad it all is. You know how many albums I've bought this year? Five. And one of them wasn't even particularly good.

I download a lot of tracks, about one a day I'd say, when you even it all out. You might think this makes me more of a 'singles' guy, but really, I do love a good album. I'm a huge fan of what I call 'track sevens', those tucked-away tracks that are never promoted or talked about or played live, but you think are the best thing the band has ever done and wonder why it's not the biggest song in the world right now -the destruct\hours consist mainly of track sevens- and albums are really the only way you can find these little gems.

Embarassingly, the best new album I've heard recently was sent to me for Christmas by my mum. I have this great vision of her going into Real Groovy Records on Queen Street Auckland and asking some punk behind the counter: "Excuse me, but what is the 'in' sound at the moment? What's 'hip'?" Thankfully, whoever she spoke to was awesome and gave her Pipe Line Under the Ocean, by Pluto.

It's what you'd call a 'grower'. The first time I listened to it, nothing really jumped out at me. The second time I listened to it, I thought Dance Stamina was pretty awesome. The third time I listened to it, I truly believed, and still do, that it was the best album I'd heard all year.

It's insanely versatile. It rolls from bluegrass to hard rock to dance to country to indie, it's all over the show, but all held together by the lead singer's voice, which has a quality that reminds me of a young Mick Jagger, but I mean, his voice is wholly distinctive, it can't be anyone else singing. It's sort of gravelly and, well, massive, for want of a better word. It's really the standout feature of the album, you really can't believe that tiny little New Zealand produced such a massive voice.

I've more orless had this album on constant replay for the last month (apart from the occasional NIN-whirl for violent chapters, it was the soundtrack to the whole nanowrimo experience), and even listening to it now, it still fills me with energy and excitement, like, I'm sitting in my office right now with a serious urge to like, jump up and dance. That, to me, is the hallmark of a good album.

Great, great stuff- reminds me of why I love music so much.

Er, it's going to be kind of tough to review this album, because I have so little to say about it. 'Audio wallpaper' would be the best way I can describe it. There's nothing actually objectionable or unlistenable here, but I've heard the damned thing dozens of times and I can't remember anything about it. I can remember 'The Power of Orange Knickers', but that's only because it has such an annoying title (not a bad song, though).

Now, some might say: "Well, maybe you've just outgrown Tori's 'sound'." No. I just listened to Under the Pink and it was as barnstormingly great as usual. Then stick on this lumbering (I didn't even know CDs could be 80 minutes long!), beige-carpet beast of an album and the difference couldn't be more clear. It doesn't go anywhere. It doesn't say anything. Maybe my expectations are too high? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm going to put this album on from time to time, but in the same way I put on certain types of harmless classical music- just to have a pleasing noise in the background while I'm reading or painting or writing. I can't declare an album to be truly great unless it's absorbing- unless I can lie on my bed and wrap myself up in it and do nothing but listen intently. I can't listen to this one for more than a few minutes before looking for something else to do while I listen.

It's the soundtrack to Ally McBeal. Tori completists only need apply.

A while ago, when I was at the younger end of the teenage spectrum, I used to fantasize about a band that would release an album that would be 'cross-genre'. As in, they'd do a rap track, then a heavy metal track, then an easy-listening track, then an opera track, then an instrumental, and so on. I used to think to myself: "If I'm ever in a band, that's what I'd do."

Gorillaz isn't that band, and Demon Days isn't that album, but listening to 'DARE', a sort of eightie-esque pop song (sung by Neneh Cherry, no less!), which follows a hard-rockin' grunge track (with heavenly choir breakdown), and is followed by a creepy spoken-word story/song as read by Dennis Hopper; I certainly found myself thinking of that idea more than a few times, and this album comes closer than any than I've heard since the heady days of PWEI-zation.

While I bought and enjoyed the first two Gorillaz singles, I've never heard their first album, and never even considered buying it, mainly due to the odd PR campaign staged by Gorillaz themselves. They were mainly promoted as a 'parody band'. I believe Damon Albarn's exact quote was: "We realized that most bands ended up as cartoons of themselves anyway, so we thought it would be interesting to start the band as a cartoon." That's not exactly the sort of quote that lends one to thinking that they've actually put together a decent album. I figured they were a singles band- just like the bands they were supposedly mocking. (in addition, the singles were mainly promoted through their high-energy remixes, not the trip-hop original versions, which made me think the entire album would be a bit slow).

I've since been told this impression is erroneous and I was so impressed by the single that I made it a point to buy the album to check it out. I was not disappointed- it's a great album.

So, I ordered the new Gorillaz album, because I liked the single. I could have downloaded it and not paid, but I like to financially support artists that do good stuff.

So I get the CD yesterday and pop it into my computer. Nothing. Computer doesn't even register that there's a CD in the drive. I chalk it up to the fact that I have a lousy computer at home, but it's mildly annoying.

Get to work. Pop it into the drive. It installs its own (shitty) proprietary player to play the CD. On MY computer, without even asking. iTunes can't read it. Windows Media doesn't register that there's a disc in the drive. So I look a little closer at the disc and it's got a little 'Copy Control' warning on it. It's like this ON PURPOSE. It's even got a little rant at the bottow about how copying something to your PC 'has the same effect as stealing music'. [uhm, fuckwits, I paid for your fucking album, and you're accusing me of being a thief? Screw you]

Fucking DRM bullshit. So I can't give you a review for this album, because I can't listen to this album except through the fucking shitty proprietary player, which I refuse to fucking do. I'm going to go and have to rip shitty copies off the `net just to get it to do what every other album does. I'm writing to play.com to tell them I want a fucking refund.

Asstards.

"You looked like you enjoyed that then."

"Yeah, yeah I did, they were good stuff. Wouldn't buy their album, though. And I think I've figured out why I almost never buy albums."

"What, just now?"

"Yeah, just while I was dancing."

"Why's that then?"

"Well, I was dancing and thinking how good these guys were, but I realized they were a bit, ah, what Scott just referred to as 'meat & two veg', like, they're good for what they are, which is guitar-bass-drums-rock(!), but they're nothing more than that, and there's a zillion bands that sound just like them, and their album wouldn't really be adding anything to my music collection that wasn't already amply represented. These guys are good for this environment, they're a great live band to rock out to, but I don't want to take them home and STUDY them, listen to them on earphones, read the lyrics, let them define particular moments for me. And I realized there's actually very few albums that induce that desire in me, and they're the only ones I buy. And the current musical digesis seems very much gearer towards looking backwards at the moment- I really don't see a lot of innovation, I don't hear much I haven't heard over and over, or can't hear some derivative of just by turning on the radio. Nothing I'd want to actually BUY."

I have my little sister to thank for putting me on to Nine Inch Nails. Embarassing, I know. I remember the day, the moment, even, with such "I'm still right there" clarity that it's ludicrous to believe that there's over ten years between then and now. I was in her room, mocking her musical taste (as big brothers do) when 'Ruiner' came on.

BOOM.

Never heard anything like it. Still haven't heard anything like it. It's just this amazing, epic, gangbusting porno-pop-hellpit of a song. I asked Clair if I could borrow the album for a bit- I still haven't returned it, although now I own everything NIN has ever released, and a crapload of stuff they haven't. I love NIN for a great many reasons, about half of which I probably can't articulate without sounding like the wrap-up of a classic Star Trek episode. One of the half I can express is that, for good or ill, it doesn't sound like anything else you're listening to. It pushes music forward. You're not going to mistake it for one of a million identikit bands all playing the sames notes on the same instruments. You're at the forefront of musical creation.

Which is why a new NIN album is something that generates a lot of excitement for me- perhaps too much. Perhaps my expectation, the idea that NIN has to actually push the bounadaries of music, create something new each time, is so high as to be unreasonable. This may be- but that's too bad because, for better or worse, that's what I look to NIN to do- show me what else noise can do that I didn't think it could do before.

Does 'With Teeth' (or what, thanks to Meathead's excellent review, I will always think of as "A-With-a-teeth-ah!") do that? Yes and no. It's kind of half-and-half, actually. About half the songs are what I'd call...'standard NIN'- they'd fit pretty nicely on The Downward Spiral or The Fragile. They'd be standout tracks on either of those albums (the individual quality of all the tracks on this album is VERY high- there is barely a bum note), but they wouldn't be breaking new ground the way TDS did. The other half shows...glimmers of expansion. Hints that the veil is being pushed- but not broken.

I want to stress that this is a really, really good album- it's just not visionary. Trent said that his goal was to make a simple, stripped-back album that was just a series of good songs, and I think that goal is achieved. But it's disappointing. Trent's who I rely on to keep restaking the boundary points. He's made a great album within those boundaries- I had hoped for more.

Before I go on to a track-by-track breakdown, much discussion has been had on the ninternet about the odd packaging of the latest album (NIN CD-packaging has in the past been famous for being particularly complex and impressive), which consists of a web address, which leads to a massive PDF file which has all the lyrics/artwork on a single, enormous page. I imagine most people navigate through this page on their PC, but luckily I have a stonkin' great A0 printer in my office, so I've printed the whole thing out at scale- check out this pic for an idea of the size! I have to say that while I was initially skeptical about the idea (which Trent's reasons for doing are here), now that I've got the poster I just plain love the idea- it's bigger and better than anything that could have possibly been included with the CD. If the music isn't revolutionary, the packaging certainly is.

I was at the beach over Christmas and had 'Atomic Bomb' on repeat pretty much constantly, so I got to know it pretty well, and think it's pretty damned excellent.