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January 29, 2016 - Image 6

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ACROSS
1 “If I may
interject ... ”
5 Stops to smell
the roses
11 Briquette’s fate
14 Passed
15 Potassium
hydroxide, e.g.
16 Siete menos seis
17 Threat to the
queen’s cotton?
19 Water source
20 Hersey’s “A Bell
for __”
21 Wind dir.
22 Call forth
24 Help for a sad
BFF
26 Subject of the
first picture in
Mussorgsky’s
“Pictures at an
Exhibition”
27 Satan’s
broadcaster?
34 Physical, e.g.
35 On the move
36 Plane
compartment
37 Told, as an
elaborate tale
38 Repeating
rhythmic pattern
used in Cuban
music
39 Balderdash
40 39-Down carrier
41 Deli equipment
42 Protected at sea
43 Really unpopular
fish?
46 Rushed
47 Mauna __
48 Expert
49 “__ Kapital”
52 Make whole
56 First woman to
land a triple axel
in competition
57 1958 Orson
Welles film noir ...
and a hint to 17-,
27- and 43-
Across
60 Revival prefix
61 Overshoot
62 Bear’s cry
63 Philosophy
64 Trinket
65 Town near
Padua

DOWN
1 Indian district
with three World
Heritage Sites

2 Rain protection
3 Irish musician
with four
Grammys
4 Transitional
period
5 Hand analog
6 Pub array
7 Oahu
entertainers
8 Keep
9 Manning taking a
hike
10 26-Across
feature
11 Lot occupant
12 Part of Oregon’s
border
13 Last thing in
Pandora’s box
18 Relax
23 “Cross my heart,”
e.g.
25 Round
ornament
26 Vague
27 John of Scotch
fame
28 Clears
29 Ed Norton
catchphrase on
“The
Honeymooners”
30 Firm
31 Climate control
systs.

32 Jewel thief
portrayer in “The
Pink Panther”
33 They’re often bent
39 About 125 million
people
41 Not objective
44 Halogen suffix
45 High hair style
48 Revealing
apparel
49 Household glue
brand
50 Served very well

51 __ butter
53 “Variations on
‘America’”
composer
54 List
55 How she looks in
Paris?
58 Good Grips
kitchenware
brand
59 “They say there
is divinity in __
numbers”:
Falstaff

By Jeffrey Wechsler
©2016 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
01/29/16

01/29/16

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

RELEASE DATE– Friday, January 29, 2016

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

xwordeditor@aol.com

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SUMMER EMPLOYMENT

6 — Friday, January 29, 2016
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

By CHRISTIAN KENNEDY

Daily Music Editor

Rihanna’s
eighth
studio

album, ANTI, had much of the
world convinced her career was
about to take a
blow. Between
the
endless

delays,
lack-

luster respons-
es
to
“Bitch

Better
Have

My
Money”

and “American
Oxygen” and a
horribly-exe-
cuted album launch, Rihanna
had dug herself quite the hole —
a hole that desperately needed
to be filled with an album full
of Bad Gal Riri’s club jams fol-
lowed up by her massive world
tour to establish her mojo again,
but that’s not what ANTI is.

After seven albums in seven

years
(2005-2012),
Rihanna

churned out hit after hit —
there’s a reason she’s the only
artist to have sold 100 million
songs. But despite all of her suc-
cess, her sound and approach
remained stagnant, the only
shift coming when she honed
in on her technical skills with
Ne-Yo (remember “Hate That
I Love You”?), went darker on
Rated R and embraced an island
vibe with Loud. Beyond that,
Rihanna’s
consistent
sound

has allowed her to consistently

maintain her Bad Gal popstar
persona — until now.

ANTI
offers
the
most

nuanced Rihanna album yet.
It would appear the four-
year break from dropping LPs
loaded with dancefloor jams
and anthemic boudoir bangers
allowed the singer to reimagine
her own sound, resulting in an
experimental album the blends
trap, R&B, soul, psychedelic
rock, hip-hop and, of course,
pop.

The 13-track album starts

with bass-heavy, defiant open-
er “Consideration,” on which
Rihanna asks a slew of ques-
tions that, if listened to, fore-
shadow the change in Rihanna’s
sound: “Run it on back, will it
ever make sense to me?,” “Why
you will never let me grow?” and
“Darling would you mind giv-
ing my reflection a break / From
the pain it’s feeling now?” The
track features SZA and hints at
Rihanna’s professional frustra-
tions, going as far to say, “Let me
cover your shit in glitter.”

And just under 45 minutes

later it’s only Rihanna and a
piano on “Close To You,” an
emotionally raw ballad recount-
ing a lover lost.

The journey between the

two showcases Rihanna’s most
diverse offerings, possibly even
attaining the “timeless” sound
she has been yearning after for
so long.

“James Joint” and “Kiss It

Better” comprise the roman-
tic moments of serotonin-laced
beats. The former is a declara-
tion of a smoked-down love, and
the latter features percussion
and synths flowing beneath
Rihanna’s electro delivery —
the neon-pink aura the song
exudes is reminiscent of Carly
Rae Jepsen’s “All That.”

The first single from ANTI,

“Work” soared to the top of
the iTunes charts and took
over radio, but the response
felt mixed. The song’s not bad,
but the chorus is one word and
then, all of a sudden, Rihanna
sounds like she’s ten drinks
in(?). “Work” made no strong
commitments to any singular
sonic leaning — it’s not a pop
masterpiece nor a trap house
hit, but the stimulating beat and
Rihanna’s quick delivery bol-
ster its assets.

Rihanna
in
“Desperado”

begins the shift in the album to
darker themes and heartbreak.
The
cinematic
sound
finds

sinister urgency in the sharp
whips of cymbals and experi-
menting with tone, creating
an effect of walking from one
room to another, hearing the
music’s volume and pitch shift
slightly. Riri and tour opener
Travi$ Scott take ANTI to its
darkest chapter on “Woo”. The
instrumentation — nearly con-

stant throughout the song — is
undoubtedly angry and the lyr-
ics are more of the same: “I bet
she could never make you cry /
Cause the scars on your heart
are still mine / Tell me that she
couldn’t get this dick.”

Anger turns into well-earned

narcissism on “Needed Me.”
The sensual, empowered decla-
ration of necessity tears into an
ex: “But baby, don’t get it twist-
ed / You was just another n***a
on the hit list / Tryna fix your
inner issues with a bad bitch /
Didn’t they tell you that I was a
savage / Fuck your white horse
and a carriage.” Moving from
sensual to sexual, “Yeah, I Said
It,” co-written with Timbaland,
is notable for its relaxed deliv-
ery and lyrical couplets and
boasts enough sex necessary for
a proper Rihanna album — the
bassline line alone oozes sexual
appeal.

Perhaps the most surpris-

ing ANTI offering is a cover of
Tame Impala’s “New Person,
Same Old Mistakes,” “Same Ol’
Mistake.” The cover, still pro-
duced by Kevin Parker, doesn’t
stray far from the original com-
position of 2015’s Currents, but
the dark vibe and thematic ele-
ments transition the album into
its final act. “Never Ending”
foils the complexity of “Same
Ol’ Mistake” with its beau-
tiful chord progression and
unplugged production.

“Love On The Brain,” a retro

slow jam, borrows stylistically
from Amy Winehouse’s “Wake
Up Alone,” to offer a tough
sound as the song seems to rem-
inisce over Rihanna’s abusive
relationship with Chris Brown.
The first chorus introduces the
dynamics, “I tried to buy your
pretty heart, but the price too
high,” and the chorus furthers
the tragic love “It beats me
black and blue, but it fucks me
so good.”

The last track before the

closer, “Higher” is the strongest
vocal display Rihanna’s offered.
No longer looking for the crisp-
ness of her previous pop-cen-
tric efforts, “Higher” features
her raw voice, rasp included,
in the soulful interlude to the
album’s closer.

With her 8th studio album,

Rihanna paints a vivid picture
moving deliberately from track
to track, showcasing love, loss,
sex, abuse and personal growth.
Waiting for ANTI seemed like
hell to dedicated Rihanna fans,
but it doesn’t sound like a party
for Rihanna either. The album’s
experimental feel for the estab-
lished superstar may turn some
away, but Rihanna’s made it clear
that others don’t decide what type
of box she belongs in. If ANTI
isn’t a concept album, it certainly
feels like one — and a concept
worth waiting for at that.

Rihanna’s brilliant
and personal ‘ANTI’

Detroit’s lost ’60s
punk band, MC5

You should listen to
this Motor City blast

from the past

By MELINA GLUSAC

Senior Arts Editor

On one of those listless Christ-

mas break days, when the wind is
bitter but there isn’t any snow to
make up for it, I decided to go to
Third Man Records. I live about 15
minutes from downtown Detroit
and was, at the time, the sweaty
kind of “embarrassed” because I
hadn’t yet visited Jack White’s hot
new music shop (and soon-to-be
record factory). So I went, a good
month after its opening.

The place is loaded with vin-

tage knick-knacks, guitar-heavy
vinyl and other Nashville-punk
impedimenta — so, yes, it reeks
of White. But that’s a damn sexy
smell to emit, if I should be so
bold. A series of headphones and
small screens popping out of the
wall at the back of the shop drew
me in like a weary sailor to a mer-
maid — what was there to listen
to, to behold? Unreleased White
Stripes stuff? More face-melting
guitar solos? Clips of White eating
his breakfast (I imagine he starts
his day off right with cigarettes,
whiskey and blues progressions),
a la DJ Khaled? I intended to find
out.

My father beat me to the punch

and was taking off his headphones
as I arrived at the last station.

“That was so cool,” the sub-

urban gent that spawned me
exclaimed.

I looked at his screen and saw a

handful of scraggly-looking dudes
in black and white, performing
some explosive live outdoor con-
cert in Detroit in, like, 1969. The
lead singer was way too into it.

“Who the hell are they?” I

squinted at the screen. “What is
MC5?”

Dad was shocked to find out

about my lack of musical knowl-
edge. (Why is he still smarter
than me? Is college working?) He

explained how crucial the band
was, how amazing, how crazy-
long-lasting-influential
their

music was on the rock genre and
especially the punk scene. Punk
rockers. From Detroit. In the
’60s. Okay, I could wrap my head
around that — but legends? I
didn’t know. They must be good,
I thought hesitantly, if White
devoted a little corner wall and
headphone set to their legacy in
his slightly self-indulgent shop.
There must be something there.

So, naturally, I put off listen-

ing to them for a few days. Part
nervousness,
part
embarrass-

ment, again — but if it wasn’t too
late to go to Third Man Records,
it wasn’t too late to start listening
to MC5, alone, in my room, a few
days before school started back up
again. Cue: “Kick Out The Jams
(Live)” and the beginning of a
Spotify-driven, MC5 introductory
shuffle session.

“Kick Out” is the one they’re

known for, and that’s completely
as it should be because the song
could demolish a building after
one play, probably. Ramming gui-
tars, white-knuckles-on-the-dash-
board drums with melodious lines,
it begins — ever-so-subtly — “Kick
out the jams, motherfucker!” Um,
MC5, your punk is showing.

I was hooked. I am hooked. I

can try to blame it on the voice
— the late Rob Tyner’s pipes
are both soulful and edgy, pas-
sionate and hard, crunchy with
a little bit of chocolate syrup
deftly drizzled into the mix. But
then I can also blame it on the
instrumentation — it’s tough to
dispute the virtuosity, the raw
emotion of Wayne Kramer and
Fred “Sonic” Smith on the guitar.
There wouldn’t be an MC5 with-
out that six-stringed goodness.
And then, of course, I could talk
about the oft-overlooked back-
bones: Michael Davis’s intricate
bass riffs, Dennis Thompson’s
ramming drums. With any band,
though, it’s the combination of all
those elements that’s ultimately
the culprit, the reason for excel-
lence and listen-ability, and MC5

is no exception to that rule. They
just worked.

But then, a song emerges from

the rock ‘n’ roll fog and clangs at
the elusive tuning-fork artery in
your heart. A case like this is rare.
And it makes you cry and smile
and it lets you know that the band
you’re listening to — MC5 — is any-
thing but just another rock group
from the ’60s. “Miss X” starts up
easy, some thudding piano chords
occupying its first few precious
seconds, but then gun-gun-gun-
gun-gun—“Oh, now, yeeeah!” It
starts for real, oozing sex and angst
and frustration at an exponential
punk-rock rate. A tonally descend-
ing background singers mirror
Tyner’s dilemma, his own descent
into the body of the woman that
makes him weak. He pushes and
pushes, with “undulating hips,”
until one final yawp to end all
yawps ever yawped is yawped. It’s
desperation; it’s love; it’s pain; it’s
love. And damn it, isn’t that what
all musicians have been banging
on about, for all these years?

I don’t know when this affair

will end. It’s not under cover of
darkness, nor is it shameful. I’ve
been telling everyone I’ve run into
the past few weeks about my burn-
ing obsession, but no one seems to
understand how badly I want to be
Miss X.

***

Dad called me the other night,

and I told him what this article
was going to be about.

“Oh, so now you’re a fan?”
Well, I’d like to thank Jack

White for introducing me to the
backbone, the invisible inspiration
behind so many bands that have
existed post-MC5. And Detroit, for
housing the shaggy-headed gang
that birthed Kick Out The Jams
(Live), Back in the USA, and High
Time, three of the most important
albums since ’69. Together, they’ve
made the new semester a little less
lost, a little less listless and a lot
more rock ‘n’ roll.

So sonically speaking, I’m in

love.

MUSIC NOTEBOOK

ROC NATION

More like “PRO!”

ALBUM REVIEW

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Anti

Rihanna

Roc Nation

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