The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, September 28, 2016 — 5A
Every once in awhile, a
band will release an album
whose cover art is more than
impressive. Rather than simply
putting a pretty picture to a
collection of songs, it profoundly
influences
the
listening
experience.
Perhaps
it
invites,
intrigues
or
just
mystifies.
In the best of
cases, it evokes
an
emotional
response
from
the
listener
before the music even starts.
Whatever the exact case may
be, Return to Love is one of
those albums. Illustrated in
immensely
satisfying
detail
and contained by a thick white
border, the cover’s naturescape
is a crucial, almost necessary
introduction
to
the
album.
Invoking
nature
and,
by
extension, solitude, it primes
the listener for an experience
centered
on
self-discovery.
At the same time, the pure
whiteness
that
surrounds
this image indicates a crisp,
aesthetically intelligent quality,
setting a standard that the
music itself surely matches.
On Return to Love, LVL
UP’s third studio album and
first for Sub Pop, the four-
piece outfit finds a highly
rewarding
medium
between
fuzz-infused punk bombast and
lo-fi subtlety. After meeting at
SUNY Purchase in New York,
Mike Caridi, Dave Benton and
Nick Corbo joined forces as LVL
UP and introduced themselves
to the world on 2011’s quietly
released
Space
Brothers,
an
album
comprised
almost
entirely of quick in-and-out jams
— its 13 tracks clock in at just
over 23 minutes total. Drummer
Greg Rutkin joined them on tour
— he’s now a permanent fixture
in the band — though he doesn’t
write any of the material. The
other three split song-writing
responsibilities roughly evenly,
which is surprising given the
generally cohesive nature of
their
work
together.
Now,
following 2014’s breakthrough
Hoodwink’d, Return
to Love finds LVL
UP crafting the most
fleshed out, lyrically
complex
material
they’ve released to
date.
Opening on single
“Hidden
Driver,”
the
influence
of
’90s
fuzz-folk
is
immediately
apparent; one almost expects
Jeff Mangum to jump in with a
nasally “two-headed boy” after
the opening chords. LVL UP’s
lyrics are also just as inscrutable
as Mangum’s always were. For
a brief taste: “Hidden driver /
forming shape inside my chest
/ omnipotent in the way that it
arrests / every sense and every
lesson.” The exact meaning
of these opening lines doesn’t
ever become particularly clear,
but the song finds the band
grappling with the idea of god —
God? — and the biblical Fall.
While fuzz permeates the
album, some tracks are also
characterized by touches of
synthesizer. An absolute master
class on restraint, the playful
synth line that comes in at the
two-minute mark (and only
appears twice) on “She Sustains
Us” is a testament to LVL UP’s
arguably newfound maturity.
This synth in particular, as well
as other artificial sounds that
crop up here and there — the
sample that opens the track, for
example — also add an exciting,
almost genre-defying dimension
to the band’s overall vibe.
Despite all of the change
or
deviation
from
previous
direction
that
characterizes
Return
to
Love,
longtime
fans need not be in dismay!
Fuzz permeates, but refuses
to dominate, and tracks like
“Cut from the Vine” find more
of the clean, singular guitar
melodies that largely defined
their previous releases. What’s
more, the band members’ voices
haven’t changed a bit. Still the
perfect complement for their
guitar-driven brand of quasi-
punk, their voices are never
particularly urgent, and remain
constant while the guitars set
the emotional tone.
Bordering on monotone, LVL
UP’s laid-back, gently lilting
vocals bring a casual quality
to an album whose thematic
content could be considered
anything but. Here, LVL UP
confront the idea of a higher
being on “Hidden Driver” and
condemn someone who has
recently betrayed a friend to
“grow old and never find love.”
In addition to covering all of
the usual bases of indie lo-fi
alt-rock, the band has widened
their focus, singing beyond just
their own distinctly personal
experiences.
They
continue
to embrace individuality, but
have contextualized it with the
knowledge of a much greater,
much
more
significant
and
unpredictable unknown. The
idea of a singular, omnipotent
deity
appears
not
only
on
“Hidden Driver”—see “Naked in
the River with the Creator” and
“Cut from the Vine — and could
reflect the instability ubiquitous
in recent years for the four New
Yorkers. In interviews, they
have said that they decided they
would be going their separate
ways if things didn’t come
together. Thankfully, signing
to Sub Pop seems to have had
more of a humbling effect
than an ego-inflating one. In
small print — at the bottom
of the aforementioned album
cover, beneath the river, the
mountains and the entirety of
the lush landscape — are two
words: “Thank you.”
SUP POP
This looks like every all male indie band we’ve reviewed in the last five years.
Four member indie band LVL UP
‘Returns to Love’ on third album
‘Returns’ finds itself between fuzz-infused punk and lo-fi subtley
SEAN LANG
Daily Arts Writer
FOCUS FEATURES
“As you can see here, we’re very lost.”
Completionism: the act of
consuming all works by an
artist, film director or musician.
Here is a completionist’s
confession: I have refrained
from watching films I knew
would
be
good
because
I
hadn’t watched their directors’
previous films. The same is true
for albums and bands. I have,
conversely, watched countless
films I was 99 percent sure
would be terrible beforehand
(and those predictions were
mostly right).
I
suppose
my
obsession
with completion goes back to
“Moonrise Kingdom,” the 2012
film by Wes Anderson, which
was the movie that got me into
movies. When I was younger,
my form of rebellion against
my parents was to reject their
offers to watch movies with
them in theaters or on home
video. Unfortunately for me, my
mother studied film in college,
so her film literacy and taste
have struck me as superlatively
impressive since I developed an
interest in film. In other words,
I missed out.
But when I saw a trailer for
“Moonrise Kingdom,” a twee
love story between two young
troubled teenagers on a New
England island in the summer
of 1965, my interest in film
blossomed. I never acted on the
desire — the demands of my high
school debate schedule proved to
be too much of an obstacle — but
“Moonrise Kingdom” remained
in the back of my mind, waiting
to be serviced.
About a year later, in my
senior year of high school,
the film started appearing on
television and I recorded it.
Upon watching that fateful
recording, I understood like
never before how films could
be so transforming. As soon
as the film finished, I scoured
the internet for all of Wes
Anderson’s other films. For a
few days before first semester
finals, I locked myself in my
room and watched all his works
— “Rushmore” and “Fantastic
Mr.
Fox”
made
particular
impressions on me — all while
remaining keenly aware that
a new film of his, “The Grand
Budapest Hotel,” was due to be
released in a few short months. I
became obsessed.
That directorial deep dive
has never left me. In the years
since, captivated by a singular
film and determined to watch
the
director’s
remaining
filmography, I have watched the
works of Steven Spielberg, Noah
Baumbach, the Coen Brothers,
Terrence Malick, Woody Allen
and countless others. There’s
a certain joy in truly knowing
a director. Freed from the
blind spots of one’s neophyte
friends, the completionist can
trace the styles, subjects and
collaborators of directors from
small, hobbled-together debut to
peak artistic craft (note: usually,
but certainly not always, around
the third or fourth film), to late-
period gem.
There are, of course, short-
comings. Not all films by a
director — even some of the best
directors — are good. There’s a
lot of suffering in dedication.
But those who find themselves
in a deep dive can find some-
thing to love in any film by a
director to whom they commit
themselves. I don’t particularly
love “The Darjeeling Limited,” a
mediocre film by Wes Anderson,
but its style adds to the broader
tapestry of Anderson’s twee
works and his oeuvre would
probably be worse without it.
And I suppose it starts ear-
lier: my first art love was archi-
tecture and it still captivates me
today. Growing up in the envi-
rons of Chicago, an architec-
tural mecca, I was exposed to
countless works by Ludwig Mies
van der Rohe and Frank Lloyd
Wright. A life goal of mine is to
see every Frank Lloyd Wright
building ever built (and still in
existence).
I’ve adapted the deep dive to
music, too. Over the summer,
my boss, in a company meeting,
referenced Neil Young, and then
looked at me and asked, in an
apparent slight to my age, “Do
you even know who Neil Young
is?” I do in fact know who Neil
Young is, but I couldn’t name any
songs by him or Buffalo Spring-
field. As much as I claim to love
the rock ‘n’ roll of the 1960s and
1970s, I’m clearly missing many
key names. I decided to listen to
the discographies of all the art-
ists inducted into the Rock and
Roll Hall of Fame. I started in
June with Chuck Berry, moved
into James Brown and now I’m
working through Ray Charles.
It’s taking forever: three artists
over four months.
And yet, it’s been fruitful.
These are legends, individu-
als whose work changed music
forever. Art is a cyclical phe-
nomenon of copying, inspira-
tion and innovation. We owe it
to ourselves to experience the
enlightenment of discovery. The
best place to start is with the
masters.
A completionist’s story:
an artistic confession
DANIEL HENSEL
Daily Arts Writer
Starting with the complete works of Wes Anderson, one
writer learns not all works by great artists are great
B+
Return to Love
LVL UP
Sup Pop
PALADIN
“How does my breath smell?”
Movies
about
the
elderly
and teenagers are hard to get
right. When they are successful,
however, it feels even more
rewarding. With elders, there
are inevitable biases that explain
why movies starring older actors
(besides Michael Caine, Meryl
Streep or Morgan Freeman) are
less common. Essentially, viewers
would
rather
watch
young,
beautiful actors in roles that
don’t remind us of our impending
death (or inevitable wrinkles).
Jerry Lewis attempts to negate
this with his performance in
“Max Rose.” Sadly, any producer
who sees the movie will be far
WILL STEWART
For the Daily
Jerry Lewis doesn’t defend his icon
status in 2013’s bland ‘Max Rose’
After premiering at Cannes, the film finally receives wide release
from eager to finance an elderly-
focused movie anytime soon.
Jerry Lewis’s (“The Nutty
Professor”) career spans over
half a century. From his work
in the ’50s with
Dean
Martin
to
his
philanthropy,
Lewis
has
been
one of the most
prolific comedians.
Today — although
few 20-something
year olds are fans
— his name is still
relevant.
“Max
Rose”,
written and directed by Daniel
Noah (“A Girl Who Walks Home
at Night”), stars Lewis as the
titular character, a 90-year-old
widower struggling through day-
to-day life. Lewis ventures away
from comedy to more serious
territory here, and his fans will
be disappointed by the result.
The movie premiered at Cannes
in 2013, though it only recently
gained wide distribution. What
happened during these three
years in between is unknown;
unfortunately,
“Max
Rose”
should have never made it past
Cannes.
The
movie
begins
with
a
montage
of
sentimental
flashbacks of Max’s recently
deceased wife that’s meant to
tug at the viewer’s heartstrings,
similar to the opening sequence
of Pixar’s “Up.” However, unlike
“Up,” “Max Rose” fails to come
even close to as heartbreaking.
His
granddaughter
Annie,
lackadaisically played by Kerry
Bishé
(“Argo”),
takes
care
of
Max despite his
stubbornness. The
movie
revolves
around
Lewis
trying to construe
clues of his wife’s
infidelity 50 years
ago. This plotline
feels meaningless
and does nothing to
deepen the love Max Rose felt for
his wife. Rather, viewers spend
the entire time wondering why he
even cares about this past scandal
since his wife has just died.
The performances in “Max
Rose” are the most painful
feature. Lewis tries to express
Max’s depression and mourning,
but it never feels believable. The
dialogue only fuels the poor
acting;
every
sentence
feels
forced and unnatural, and every
statement is overly dramatic, as
if it were a part of a speech. His
son, Christopher (Kevin Pollak,
“A Few Good Men”), is especially
guilty of supplying the worst
lines, with small talk that feels
like something overheard on an
awkward first date. His deliveries
are so unrealistic that it’s always
clear that he is, in fact, acting in
front of a camera with a film crew
behind him.
“Max Rose” feels half-baked
at best, almost like Noah failed to
make a deadline in its production.
Its plot is choppy and its acting
feels like it was barely rehearsed.
Even with fine tune-ups, it is
unlikely that “Max Rose” would
ever be a successful movie; it
would take an entire overhaul.
Max Rose, the character, lacks
any redeeming qualities, so much
so that I hope no one I know
ages like him. The movie does
nothing to comment on the pains
of getting old and portrays elders
as
stubborn
and
unpleasant,
characteristics that should not be
the only takeaways. There is no
authentic development between
Max’s family, and his friendships
feel unrealistic. If “Max Rose”
was trying to increase empathy
toward elders, it failed.
“Max Rose” is nothing but a
brief glitch in Lewis’s expansive
career. As a comedian with a
plethora of material, the movie
will be quickly forgotten in his
legacy. Considering that this
could be one of Lewis’s last
performances, viewers and fans
will want to like it, but it isn’t
worth pretending. Liking “Max
Rose” only because Lewis is old
is purposeless; fans will always
be able to revisit their favorite
material and enrich their lives
with laughter.
D
“Max Rose”
Michigan Theater
Paladin
There’s a certain
joy in truly
knowing a
director.
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