Mind Over Matter; or, I Actually Like California Rock

source

I first heard Young the Giant at Rock Island Brewing Company (affectionately known as RIBCO to locals and dedicated Thursday-night college kid partiers) back in 2010, before everyone knew "Cough Syrup" and "My Body" from commercials, the radio, what have you. They were the opener for one of RIBCO's most unmissable shows, followed by New Politics and Neon Trees. Neon Trees were already hot by the time they came into the Quad Cities, with "Animal" playing regularly on Top 40 stations all over. I still wonder how a small-time town like Rock Island managed to convince a well-known band to come not for a concert at the massive i-Wireless center, but to a cramped bar downtown. 

So, squeezed somewhere in the middle of the sticky dance floor, blinking through a light haze of smoke, I watched Young the Giant perform their chill-but-cool opening act. I wouldn't say I was entranced by them-that's not quite the right word. It was a more relaxed sensation, a kind of gentle acceptance of their every word. I bought their album the second the crowd cleared enough for me to make it to the front of the bar.

You may call me a hipster for this whole I knew them before they were cool attitude, but for me it was always more than bragging rights, the fact that I already knew who they were by the time they were popular. I truly felt like I knew them. Young the Giant's music became so natural to my brain waves that I found myself integrating their work onto every consecutive playlist I made. Their self-titled album was one of few CDs that I was willing to play over and over again on every long drive I took.

What amazes me the most about my love for Young the Giant is that it's most certainly not the kind of music I normally listen to. For lack of a better explanation, anything reminiscent of warm weather is almost immediately off my radar after the first 20 seconds. I'm a self-proclaimed "not a beach person." I don't do tropical temperatures. The fact that something so inherently California rock stuck with me as much as it has continues to amaze me, even now that they've released a second album.

I worried when I first heard about Mind Over Matter that I wouldn't like it--this band had already convinced me to ease off my warm weather sound snubbery once, but surely they wouldn't be able to pull it off again. I was almost ready to believe what I had told myself the first time I heard the first released single, "It's About Time." I distinctly remember asking someone if Young the Giant was trying to sound like the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I wrinkled my nose at the song, despite the fact that it wasn't the California sound I'd been expecting. I don't recall exactly what it was that made me listen to Mind Over Matter in its entirety, given how unsure I was of the debut single, but I'm so pleased that I took a chance on it. Young the Giant did not disappoint.

I still stand by my initial thought that Young the Giant was trying to sound more like the rest of the alternative genre, picking up a few rhythmic trends here and there that also appear on Top 40 hits. But at the same time, that friendly California breeze in their sound still comes through, and, to my surprise, I still dig every beat of it.

A Reaction to Coldplay's Ghost Stories, Three Listens In

(source)

For the first time in my 8 years of loving Coldplay, I wasn't excited to hear their music.

I was instantly disappointed when I heard "Magic" for the first time. Where was the energy from Mylo Xyloto? Where was the upward spark? Sure, "Magic" had a pulse, but a skull-penetrating bass bump isn't quite enough to make me excited for the rest of the album. No matter the circumstances, I am not a fair weather fan. I remember strongly disliking "Every Teardrop is a Waterfall" when I first heard it. Maybe it's a marketing strategy unique to Coldplay: hand out a single that demonstrates the latest style shift, build unsure reactions among your fan base, and then reveal your most amazing album yet and chuckle as everyone swears they liked the single after all (and the rest of the album). 

I came to Coldplay in a very backwards manner. I jumped on Viva la Vida after hearing its namesake single and went in reverse chronological order, eventually falling into Parachutes. It's entirely possible that tracking Coldplay backwards like that made each stylistic shift easier to bear, and perhaps that's why I've had a strong reaction to each album following Viva la Vida. With MX, I went into it nervous, remembering the clangy sound of the first released single, but by the end I was blown into obsession, a full on mind-meld with the music.

Ghost Stories fell quite short of the emotional reaction I was expecting. This isn't to say that I didn't enjoy the calm, sometimes ethereal vibe of the album. I relaxed into it. But that's exactly the problem with the album, I think. There are plenty of slow-paced albums in the world that have this blossoming power that totally captures you as you listen. And then there's Ghost Stories, which feels like waiting on the beach or the ocean foam to reach your toes and going home totally dry. It simply does not reach the blockbuster caliber that we, as fans, have come to expect of Coldplay even in their quieter moments.

If time followed the reverse chronological scale on which I came to love Coldplay, I would venture that Ghost Stories would be their debut album. The lyricism is somewhat clumsy and uninteresting, but any listener can tell they do in fact have musical talent behind them. As it stands now, Ghost Stories seems almost like a bonus album, an EP without the same allure as Prospekt's March, that isn't likely to stand the test of time. 

Better luck next time, boys. I'll be loyally waiting.