Side project from TV On the Radio guitarist doesn't live up to potential
by Christian Hagen
Issue date: 10/6/09
Section: Music
Kyp Malone is best known for his work with the band TV on the Radio. And after listening to his solo side project Rain Machine, that's unlikely to change anytime soon. But, for all its imperfections, and there are several, this album still deserves to be listened to, partially for the flashes of brilliance, but mostly because of the potential that exists under the surface of every song.
There are some fantastically captivating moments on Rain Machine, moments that bend past, and even arc over, genre conventions or even genre labels. It's clear where much of the instrumental genius of TV on the Radio comes from when listening to this album. From the rhythmic whistling intro to the extensive, exhaustingly long acoustic majesty of "Winter Song," there's no denying that Malone refuses to frame his music the same way most artists do, as one style or another.
Perhaps it's a focus on the soul of the music, rather than technical proficiency, that makes these songs so hard to nail down, both from a critical and a listening standpoint.
Malone's voice has all the emotion behind it to power a song through, but his sloppy vocal style makes his harmonies and self-made backup vocals extremely hard to define, occasionally producing cringe-worthy clashes. Listeners not used to his signature sound, a mix of in-your-face belting and soft falsettos, might struggle to understand and appreciate the nuances of his performance.
All of this isn't to say the album isn't worth a listen. TV on the Radio fans should take particular notice. It's fascinating to hear where many of the softer, weightier moments from that band's catalogue come from. "Desperate Bitch," a pained ode to brutal love and the darkness it can leave in our hearts, builds from a lonely guitar to a cloud of tambourine, subtle keyboard loops, and backup singers. It speaks to Malone's abilities as a songwriter that a song that's nearly 9 minutes long can carry a listener through to the end.
Song length, however, is one area where Rain Machine really has issues. 6 of the 11 tracks clock in over 5 minutes in length, which is perfectly acceptable in a full band when things are always moving, always changing, but which drags painfully when all we hear is one man's straining voice and his guitar, playing mostly the same chords over and over again. It's an example of the main problem with most solo projects: self-indulgence.
Indeed, the content of Malone's songs seem to air plenty of dirty laundry, his personal life thrust through the speakers, which is great. He also allows himself free reign as a songwriter to explore himself, and he doesn't stop until he's sure he's gotten everything out of his system and into the recording, which is fine. But the question becomes, how much can a person listen to before it all becomes lost in itself and gets old?
Malone has the benefit of creativity to his credit, and that keeps the project from becoming a complete loss. The excitingly punchy "Give Blood" kicks the doors down and the upbeat "Hold You Holy" moves with surprising deftness and confidence.
And don't let the previous statements completely discount the longer, quieter pieces of this album; "Love Won't Save You," even at nearly 8 minutes and featuring only Malone and his guitar, is still a heart-rending song that's easy to become lost in without realizing its length.
It just would have been nice to have another voice here, maybe not in the recording but at least somewhere in the process of its creation, to keep Malone's introspection in check. The songs are all strong in their core ideas, and with a talent as unbidden as Malone's, each could have easily been made a soul-crushing classic.
All it would have taken was some careful, if merciless, editing.
But wading through "Winter Song" feels like spinning your wheels in the cold: You know there's something to grip under the ice, but you just have to wonder how long it's going to take to catch, if it ever will at all.
Christian Hagen is a Reporter staff writer
There are some fantastically captivating moments on Rain Machine, moments that bend past, and even arc over, genre conventions or even genre labels. It's clear where much of the instrumental genius of TV on the Radio comes from when listening to this album. From the rhythmic whistling intro to the extensive, exhaustingly long acoustic majesty of "Winter Song," there's no denying that Malone refuses to frame his music the same way most artists do, as one style or another.
Perhaps it's a focus on the soul of the music, rather than technical proficiency, that makes these songs so hard to nail down, both from a critical and a listening standpoint.
Malone's voice has all the emotion behind it to power a song through, but his sloppy vocal style makes his harmonies and self-made backup vocals extremely hard to define, occasionally producing cringe-worthy clashes. Listeners not used to his signature sound, a mix of in-your-face belting and soft falsettos, might struggle to understand and appreciate the nuances of his performance.
All of this isn't to say the album isn't worth a listen. TV on the Radio fans should take particular notice. It's fascinating to hear where many of the softer, weightier moments from that band's catalogue come from. "Desperate Bitch," a pained ode to brutal love and the darkness it can leave in our hearts, builds from a lonely guitar to a cloud of tambourine, subtle keyboard loops, and backup singers. It speaks to Malone's abilities as a songwriter that a song that's nearly 9 minutes long can carry a listener through to the end.
Song length, however, is one area where Rain Machine really has issues. 6 of the 11 tracks clock in over 5 minutes in length, which is perfectly acceptable in a full band when things are always moving, always changing, but which drags painfully when all we hear is one man's straining voice and his guitar, playing mostly the same chords over and over again. It's an example of the main problem with most solo projects: self-indulgence.
Indeed, the content of Malone's songs seem to air plenty of dirty laundry, his personal life thrust through the speakers, which is great. He also allows himself free reign as a songwriter to explore himself, and he doesn't stop until he's sure he's gotten everything out of his system and into the recording, which is fine. But the question becomes, how much can a person listen to before it all becomes lost in itself and gets old?
Malone has the benefit of creativity to his credit, and that keeps the project from becoming a complete loss. The excitingly punchy "Give Blood" kicks the doors down and the upbeat "Hold You Holy" moves with surprising deftness and confidence.
And don't let the previous statements completely discount the longer, quieter pieces of this album; "Love Won't Save You," even at nearly 8 minutes and featuring only Malone and his guitar, is still a heart-rending song that's easy to become lost in without realizing its length.
It just would have been nice to have another voice here, maybe not in the recording but at least somewhere in the process of its creation, to keep Malone's introspection in check. The songs are all strong in their core ideas, and with a talent as unbidden as Malone's, each could have easily been made a soul-crushing classic.
All it would have taken was some careful, if merciless, editing.
But wading through "Winter Song" feels like spinning your wheels in the cold: You know there's something to grip under the ice, but you just have to wonder how long it's going to take to catch, if it ever will at all.
Christian Hagen is a Reporter staff writer
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