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Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Shakira -- Live & Off the Record


I shamelessly bought Shakira's Laundry Service because I liked the way she looked, but soon realized that if I only listened to her music, I couldn't see her. Her 2004 live DVD, Live & Off the Record, remedied that issue. It's 90 minutes of Shakira belly-dancing in leather pants, and includes a moment where she somehow makes picking up a microphone with her toes sexy. I make that last comment as someone who is firmly NOT in the foot fetish camp. The DVD comes with an accompanying live CD (missing five songs from the DVD). Fourteen years later, what does this live CD sound like?
Well, this is unexpected. Were you expecting a bunch of exotic instrumental jams? I'll never dispute Shakira's integrity as an artist. She writes her own music and lyrics, and she can play more than a handful of instruments herself. That comes through here in the way she lets her band stretch its legs. The studio recording of "Ojos Así" is under four minutes long. It's over eight here, with a stretched out hard rock instrumental intro, and a lovely, hypnotic Middle Eastern instrumental bridge, including solos for violin and hand drums. This is not some run-of-the-mill pop album. This version of "Ojos Así" asserts itself as a worthy piece on its own. Not every song here is equally stretched out--"Underneath Your Clothes" and "The One" add little to the studio versions but live energy. However, these jams happen enough to make this abbreviated set of songs feel special.
Fans that prefer Shakira's Spanish-language output will also be pleased to hear that nearly half of these tracks are in Shakira's native tongue. She also performs a fairly raucous cover of ACDC's "Back in Black." It's, of course, in English, but as fun as it is, I feel like she could have made it vital had she sung it in Spanish, too.
Live & Off the Record is a throwback to a time where pop artists leaned on organic instrumentation over programming. However, you still don't expect a pop artist to have their musicians jamming like this in the songs. Well, maybe you do, but I don't. Overall, I think this album is a rousing success. It showcases Shakira's talented band, diverse genre-hopping (not many live pop albums jump from Arabian to Latin to classic rock to piano ballad to drum circle to hard rock to Peruvian mountain music in an hour), and Shakira's strong songwriting. Also, did we need an eight minute live version of "Whenever, Wherever?"
Yes, yes we did.

2004 Epic
1. Ojos Así 8:14
2. Si Te Vas 4:36
3. Underneath Your Clothes 4:13
4. Ciega, Sordomuda 4:58
5. The One 3:46
6. Back in Black (AC/DC cover) 5:23
7. Tú" Dillon O'Biren, Shakira 4:50
8. Poem to a Horse 7:13
9. Objection (Tango) 4:22
10. Whenever, Wherever 7:52

Monday, March 19, 2018

Shakira -- Laundry Service


There are two possible reasons I have purchased music: love or lust. Either I love the music, or when I was 19, I saw a video for "Whenever, Wherever" where Shakira crawls through the mud in leather pants. Whatever the case, I then bought Shakira's English language debut, Laundry Service. Laundry Service is a strange reminder that even as recent as 17 years ago, pop music was something created by actual instruments. Even stranger, the singer actually wrote the and lyrics! How weird is that? How desirable would it be for me to break down a 17-year old pop album track-by-track right now? I don't know, but it's happening.
1. "Objection (Tango)" -- Immediately you get the sense that Shakira is going to be genre-hopping throughout this album. This is some kind of weird tango/pop-rock fusion, and her musicians have skills. You also get the sense through her lyrics that despite the fact that she looks like God spent a little more time on her, she is going to be positing herself as a bit of an underdog. Then you get the sense that she is not going to sing in a way to be expected. She is going to start like some kind of breathy Britney Spears with attitude, then later she ill-advisedly half-raps. Weird.
2. "Underneath Your Clothes" -- Already we're at a ballad, but Shakira really introduces her most divisive element here: a facet of her voice which some have derogatorily compared to "a goat bleating." Yes, it's a strange throaty noise she utilizes when she goes to those high notes. No, it's not for everybody. At least its different.
3. "Whenever, Wherever" -- Here Shakira really shows her appeal. She's blended Andes mountain music with American pop music, smiling through pan flutes, and laying out such lyrical gems as, "Lucky that my breasts are small and humble, so you don't confuse them with mountains." This song is so bouncy and catchy is tough not to get sucked into the rush of it.

4. "Rules" -- This is a pure pop-rock song, with some really possessive lyrics. It's not dull as dishwater by normal means, but in comparison to some of the oddities contained on Laundry Service, it's as dull as...laundry water?
5. "The One" -- It's another ballad, and if you hated the way she sang "Underneath Your Clothes," you'll especially hate the way she sings this one.
6. "Ready for the Good Times" -- And now we've got a pure club song. Her guitarist seems out to prove that he can play in any genre, though everything has a slight, and I mean slight, Latin tinge.
7. "Fool" -- Sort of a downer ballad about how Shakira keeps falling for some loser dude's tricks. It's kind of relaxing, though. This whole album got a sort of relaxed feel, like you're in Shakira's bedroom or something, to where even when it's boring, it's strangely comforting, and also, Shakira is there.
8. "Te Dejo Madrid" -- Shakira throws her original, Spanish-speaking fans a bone with this strangely fun, upbeat Europop song. A couple minutes in, she busts out a surprise harmonica, and you better believe she is playing that thing herself.
9. "Poem to a Horse" -- About the only time on this album Shakira doesn't sound like she has a big grin on her face. For this kiss off to a junkie ex, Shakira's band busts out a cool stuttering drum beat and some horns. It's like her angry Alanis Morissette song.
10. "Que Me Quedes Tú" -- I think this moody, atmospheric ballad is a truly great song. It combines some Middle Eastern influences with some spacey guitar effects and the bass line from U2's "New Years Day." Shakira sings this song in plaintive Spanish, and in late 2002, when I was going through one of my 5,000 depressions, this song hit the spot. I also really held onto this one when I realized that you can't actually see Shakira when you are listening to her songs on a CD. Oh, yeah, she can play drums, too.

11. "Eyes Like Yours (Ojos Así)" -- Shakira takes that Middle Eastern influence from the last song and amps it up to a million, with this belly-dancing romper. It's followed by bonus Spanish versions of "Objection" and "Whenever, Wherever," and then that's it, a weird pop album for 2001, and me having to actually admit that the pop album I bought because I thought the singer was hot is not too bad. It also exists in that weird, just-after 9/11 world, which has produced some singular, strangely period-insular artifacts. It's a strange vibe, and you can just slightly feel it here. I'm not sure how to describe'll know it when you hear it.

2001 Epic
1. Objection (Tango) 3:44
2. Underneath Your Clothes 3:45
3. Whenever, Wherever 3:16
4. Rules 3:40
5. The One 3:43
6. Ready for the Good Times 4:14
7. Fool 3:51
8. Te Dejo Madrid 3:07
9. Poem to a Horse 4:09
10. Que Me Quedes Tú 4:48
11. Eyes Like Yours (Ojos Así) 3:58
12. Suerte (Whenever, Wherever) 3:16
13. Te Aviso, Te Anuncio (Tango) 3:43

Friday, March 16, 2018

Tuesday, March 13, 2018

I've Reviewed Another Nintendo Switch Game: Axiom Verge

Axiom Verge is a throwback to the games of yore, except throwbacks to these yore games, Castlevania and Metroid, have become more abundant than their predecessors. Does Axiom Verge do enough to set itself apart? Find out at the below link, and also, experience way too many jokes about penises and kingcake-induced stupor. I mean, like jokes about penises and also jokes about kingcake-induced stupor, not jokes about both penis and kingcake-induced stupor.
That would be weird.


Wednesday, March 07, 2018

The Sea of Cortez, or That Time I Used to Be In a Band

Yep, the Nicsperiment used to be in a band. Multiple bands.
Let's back up.
*     *     *
Like most middle schoolers, I took piano lessons. Unlike most middle schoolers, I actually liked to play the piano. I took to it like a duck to water. In case you weren't aware, ducks like water. They are an aquatic fowl. After a year of lessons, I was able to read sheet music, play fairly complex pieces, and use my left and right hand independently of each other. The sky was my musical limit.
Just kidding, I got tired of making up excuses to my friends for why I had to leave football practice early on Tuesdays, so I quit piano lessons. Slowly, my skills began to fade. First, the ability to efficiently read sheet music. Then the ability to play anything complicated. Finally, doing anything more with both hands than playing chords with one and single notes with the other. It's a bummer. I should have just kept telling them I was going to the doctor to get penis reductions because it wouldn't fit in my pants.  Middle school is the best.
My musical talents then lay dormant for an entire presidential term.
However, something constantly bugged me. The cult/church I attended featured a raucous praise and worship band. Being naturally artistic, I often gravitated toward the stage...where I was consistently told I didn't belong. The nadir came when a possibly well-meaning woman told me when I sat down behind the drums, "The Nicsperiment, you aren't anointed to play those."
Yeah, we you're in a cult, people feel like it is their place to tell you stuff like that. That, and, "You only tithed 40% of your Winn Dixie paycheck. You are in danger of hellfire." Awesome.
When I graduated high school, I received a $1,000 scholarship from the Pointe Coupee Parish Police Jury, for the purpose of buying college textbooks. I used it to purchase a bass and an amp.
Within about a month, I was playing bass on stage at the cult, and in a punk band with my buddy, Jordan. A year later, I was playing electric guitar. Two years after that, I owed Musician's Friend $500 over the course of 12 monthly installments for the new drum set sitting in my room.
December, 2004, Glynn, LA
In that time span, Jordan and I butted heads, I quit, we tried again with our buddies Jon and Travis added, and me on as vocals, as vocals that aren't supposed to sound good are the only kind I'm good at, and punk doesn't work with good ones. We did a pretty decent MxPx cover. I'll mail you the cassette.
Jordan and I were young, facing a pretty big age gap (he was still in high school and I thought he was immature, though I wasn't exactly holding that down, either), had two strong personalities, and were frequently tense with one another. We thought with our drive and focus we would do something great, but in 2001/2002. we were too amped up to make it happen.
Several years passed, I got my guitar and drums, and spent hours holed away learning how to play them. I quickly realized that as naturally as piano and bass came to me, guitar did not. However, another buddy that I frequently played with, Jonathan, got a bunch of people to pool together to buy me a guitar amp with an effects board built into it for a college graduation present, and I found that with that, I could achieve most of the sounds I wanted. The drums were another beast entirely.
I love playing drums. When I first got them, I played them for hours upon hours. I don't think I've ever actually gotten tired of playing drums during any respective time I've played them--I just have had other stuff I had to do. I may not have a ton of inherent talent to play them, but I've always been able to keep perfect rhythm, which helps cover up my lack of skill, particularly with my footwork.
About a year after picking them up, I sat in on a practice with my good friend Dave's band, A Soup Named Stew. They had recently won a pretty major local music show, and recorded their first album. Their longtime drummer had just left, and they were looking for a new one. They drove out to my house to sort of try me out, but with just a year under my belt, I wasn't quite ready. Still, I felt like I should be doing something.
Now Jordan re-enters the story. He never stopped playing music either, focusing on guitar and vocals, both of which he is far more skilled at then I am. He had recently purchased a digital recorder, and as I had been recording my own music by playing a part and recording to cassette, then playing that cassette while I played the second part and recorded on a second cassette recorder, that sounded mighty fine. I mean recording with a digital recorder sounded mighty fine, not that my double cassette recordings, which sounded like the result of tossing a rabid cat into a garbage disposal, sounded mighty fine.
Despite that fact that I was an awful bandmate and a subpar friend to him, Jordan drove out to my house, which, to be honest, was quite a distance off the beaten path, to help me record the music I had been writing. Jordan was a great recorder/producer, making me play each part until it was, if not perfect, at least palatable. Over the course of a month, I laid down two instrumental demos, and a halfway decent cover of Bruce Springsteen's "I'm on Fire." However, waiting until Jordan could make the trek out to my wilderness became intolerable. Musician's Friend again gained access to my wallet.
I purchased a Fostex MR-8HD digital recorder, and got to work.
Pictured: Dream Maker, 2006
After tossing around several monikers to record music under, I settled on The Sea of Cortez, named for a body of water I had been fascinated with since I was a child, and a name which conjured the image of what I wanted to accomplish musically. Well, actually, I wanted to accomplish a lot musically. I've always had too many ideas, and too little time.
Anyway, the first thing I wanted to accomplish musically would be a self-titled album influenced by Dredg's El Cielo, The Appleseed Cast's Mare Vitalis, and Echo and the Bunnymen's Heaven Up Here. The album would have a nautical feel, with lumbering drum rhythms and relaxed guitar arpeggios contrasting with sudden bursts of post-punk. I'll not be lazy, and define that: I spent hours finding a guitar sound inspired by the chorus of Dredg's "Sanzen," where I would rapidly strum slightly distorted, heavily delayed barre chords to create a sort of humming sound for gentle choruses with big ocean wave tom toms in the background, and even more hours finding a tone similar to Echo and the Bunnymen's violent, chiming guitar punctuations from "Over the Wall"'s post-choruses. The arpeggio's I learned from The Appleseed Cast.
These three elements combined to create a sort of boat drifting on an airy blue sky, manta ray sailing through deep water, storm rolling over the horizon diversity that kept the nautical theme in mind. I also utilized some early 90's New Age keyboard sounds to conjure images of the desert which surrounds The Sea of Cortez.
Thematically, I had something very apt for my early 2006 life. Late the year before, I had finally left the cult I grew up in. I was told some awful things upon leaving, particularly that my future would be bleak (and that I'd probably end up the next Charles Manson, a prediction which way oversold my charisma). The lyrics for this self-titled album were a response, the chorus for the first track with singing, "I'll go down with the ship (myself, who was told I would sink), or sail to farther shores." I may not have finished the album, but I'm still here, assholes. Sorry. Back to music.
I meticulously recorded final versions of the second and third tracks. It was so much work, but I was achieving the sound I was shooting for...sort of. Recording layers upon layers of complex musical parts by yourself is quite difficult and extremely draining. Add to the that, I was quite impatient. I just couldn't record fast enough to make myself happy, and I knew that even though my musicianship was progressing, I couldn't sing how I wanted myself to sound. I decided to table the rest of that album to work on something more immediate, something I could do more quickly, even though I'd already demo'd 3/4 of the album, and written the rest. I had another project in mind that I could achieve under The Sea of Cortez moniker, called The Easter Parade. This would be a series of instrumentals influenced by The Gospels.
I set to work on The Easter Parade immediately. The songs were less musically complex, and less difficult to play than some of the hand stretchers on the self-titled. They were still wildly experimental, as I tried to make the keyboard sound like a guitar, and the guitar sound like something new entirely, though sometimes I couldn't resist just jamming out.
To this day, I am embarrassed by how hastily I recorded those ten songs. I had zero patience. I'd record a part until it was merely good enough, and sometimes I chose takes that were musically subpar, but emotionally correct. I should have put more time into achieving both. As it stands, over a couple of weeks, I recorded the ten track The Easter Parade, duplicated it on a bunch of CD-R's, and passed it around to my friends. I even gave a lucky few an extended disc with B-Sides--songs I'd recorded during those sessions that didn't fit with the other ten.
I received some positive feedback from friends. I'm not sure how much of it was just people who liked me, being nice, or people who didn't like me telling me nice things so I'd go away. I posted the better songs on myspace, and started to get compliments from musicians, and people who had no reason to compliment me. Several bands, one of whom was on a fairly large indie label, offered to take me out on tour. But it wasn't to be...
All of this just happened to be coinciding with me not only getting married and moving to a no-drums apartment, but getting a full time job I couldn't just take breaks from to go on tour.
I'm not going to lie. I often wonder what could have been. Though I am not the greatest musician, I can write songs with multiple parts on into eternity. I never run out of musical ideas. If I could have formed a touring band, I feel like I could have been a contender.
Coulda, woulda, shoulda.
It didn't happen.
I continued recording songs for a while, finding inventive ways to create percussion and not have my neighbors call the cops on me. I was in a dark place then, and those songs are straight evil, a counterpoint to the hopefulness of the never finished self-titled album. Time passed, and I felt like a great opportunity had passed me by. Thankfully, that wasn't the end of my musical story.
My new apartment was only a couple miles from Jordan's house, and at a moment where I thought music might be done with me, Jordan called me up to ask for help. His fiancée had recently broke up with him, and he had written a batch of dark, angry, frankly awesome songs. They were the best songs he's ever written. He wanted to play them in a setting with just his electric guitar and vocals, and a drummer.
He needed a drummer.
At this point, the lady who said I wasn't "annointed" to play drums would have been looking like a fool, had she still been in my life in any capacity. Bitter over my past drum rejections, I had dedicated myself to the craft like a madman. I took my drums out of storage, moved them to Jordan's house to practice, and then Jordan and I gigged the crap out of those songs.
I really wish there was a recording of the first club show we played--my first public performance not on a religious stage. We were great. Jordan was just so damn angry. It suited him so well, though ironically his nature is calm and kind...the sloth is his power animal. I was angry, too. I beat the hell out of those drums. I had to get the thickest heads I could find because I was tearing holes in them. That was so much fun.
July, 2007, The Darkroom, Baton Rouge, LA
Then Jordan decided he didn't want to dwell in that darkness anymore. The adventure was over, seemingly as soon as it had started. I have never gigged in a non-church setting again.
I did go on to play some awesome improv sessions on guitar with my buddy Chris from As Cities Burn. Those times were a blast, but my cousin Adrian (on drums) and we were the only people to witness them.
Jordan and some of his pals started a local record label. They put out a sampler featuring one of my songs, carried by Baton Rouge's local music stores. My wife's church, which I joined when we married, got wind that I was a drummer, and put me to work. When it became clear the need was even greater on bass, I took over there. I got to sit next to this wizened guitar gentleman named Jeff, who was in his teens during Beatlemania, and who has more guitar and musical knowledge than anyone else I've had the privilege of knowing. We jammed Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell songs during practice lulls. It was awesome.
My family later moved to a new church, and I'm still playing bass there. It's the largest setting I've played in, and it's fun...
but it's not The Sea of Cortez.
One day, I'm going to go back and finish that first album. I'll record the parts perfectly, and I'll get a singer for the vocal parts. One day...
In the meanwhile, I just visited The Sea of Cortez's myspace page. Myspace was once the best hub for bands to meet each other and get their music out to the public. It currently appears to be under deconstruction. I visited it about sixth months ago, and my non-band friends' profiles all still existed, and were still "Top 8"'d in my profile. They're all gone now. All that remains are links to the band pages I had befriended. None of the songs, including my own, are playable. The playcounts look like they were reset. Any updates I posted are gone. Here's a link for history's sake. 12 years ago, this was the place to be.
That's just not acceptable. I've got a Youtube channel where I post obscure video game music. Might as well post some obscure The Sea of Cortez, too...

Monday, March 05, 2018

Satine -- Ünder Philharmonëën


Behold, one of, if not the most obscure album in my collection, from a band I'm not sure even exists, recorded in a setting I don't understand. In late 2008, I loved to put La Blogothèque's "Take Away" shows on my second monitor at work, and just let the music play. Perusing the website now, and seeing they are featuring the likes of Justin Timberlake and Alicia Keys, it seems they have become not just a bit, but extremely more mainstream. That's just an observation, not a diss. Anyway, one afternoon, when I was working late and everyone else had gone home, this enrapturing video popped up.
The singer looked and sounded like some young, French Björk, and I was immediately sold. It helped that my wife and I had been enjoying a lot of European films that year, and also were living in an ancient, mid-city apartment, and that the sunset rooftop Parisian setting of the Take Away video seemed particularly familiar and inviting.
Strangely enough, this Take Away show is some of the only remaining proof that this band, Satine, existed. I found their website and a couple of French social media websites of theirs, which advertised that they were about to record a show with an orchestra, which seemed strange considering they didn't seem to have any recorded music to their name outside of some obscure little EP. Don't you get established, then play with an orchestra? Maybe they were established in France, and just not in the U.S.? But then, where was the French presence? Their French social media sites didn't exactly present a flurry of fan activity. I was so confused. Then, their website vanished. It was like they never existed. And like everyone does with something that never existed, I immediately forgot about them. At some point in August of 2011, a thought entered my head.
What is Satine?
Oh, yeah, that possibly French band (I am assuming they are from France) who put on that cool rooftop performance, and who was supposed to release that live orchestral album. I searched online. Strangely enough, the orchestral album had been self-released by the band at some point in 2010... and it was on sale in the Microsoft Zune store.
Guess what.
Of course I had a Zune.
I immediately downloaded the album. I took my Zune with me a couple days later on a Penske truck trek from Baton Rouge to Minneapolis to help my brother move. I listened to the album, along with The Weeknd's just-released mixtape, Thursday, back when The Weeknd released mixtapes and I liked his music, on the empty floor in my brother and sister-in-law's new guest room, which is where I slept the two nights I was in Minneapolis. The second night was the one LSU trounced Oregon in the college football season kickoff, in the season they should have won their fourth national championship.
A couple months later, my Zune broke. It was the second Zune I owned, and both of them broke in less than a year. The Zune sucked. Naturally, when I visited the Zune store to make sure I could access all the music I purchased, Satine was gone, and now the Zune store no longer even exists. And yet, there is proof that Satine, whoever they were, existed.
The Take Away Shows are still on La Blogothèque. The album is miraculously available on Amazon, though it has no reviews. The mysterious "Topic" user on Youtube, I believe a bot which collects and posts published music, posted the album for listening. I just found it yesterday, February 28th, 2018, and I was the first listener.
Who the hell was Satine? Some kids who scraped enough time to write ten songs, and enough money to hire an orchestra to record a live album with them? An underground Parisian band with similarly underground fans? What happened to them after the live album, Ünder Philharmonëën, was released?
Why did they suddenly vanish? Did they die in a plane crash? Decide that recording a live album with an orchestra was their only aspiration, and that they had to immediately disband with this one album to their name? And what about their website before it completely vanished? I visited it once when it appeared to be deconstructing. With a little...searching on its pages, I found raw MP3 files of the ten Ünder Philharmonëën songs. The applause one can hear on the album versions does appear, proving that someone was their to watch these songs be recorded, but it happens at different times than the album versions.
Is this all some experiment to screw with my head?
Well, it's working. The thing is, Ünder Philharmonëën is, maddeningly, almost great. The band at its is core is some strange melding of violining street busking, back alley club rocking, and what the critics call "post-rock," meaning there are often slow builds to big crescendos featuring drum rolls and rapidly strummed electric guitars. Opening track, "Unphoneed" is a great example of all of these factors, culminating in a beautiful, strangely vulnerable, yet optimistic crescendo.
However, if Ünder Philharmonëën's got an issue, that issue raises its head over the next few tracks. I don't know why I worded that sentence that way. How about, "However, Ünder Philharmonëën has an issue:..." Anyway, this issue is that the building portions of some of the songs get just a little old and boring, and the songs that do this are stacked in the album's first half. They are all 5-7 minutes long. Thankfully, an unexpected guitar burst four minutes into track five, "Epothèque," puts an end to this, and the rest of the album moves forward with good momentum, the band playing off the orchestra with a nice tension.
I really feel like a few more years' experience would have trimmed off some of Satine's musical fat. They could have released a truly stunning second album. Instead I'm left not even sure if they were ever actually real.

2010 Self-released
1. Unphoneed 7:12
2. Iron Güm 5:25
3. 2090 7:57
4. In Vidrio 5:02
5. Epothèque 7:20
6. Sadteen 5:45
7. Messsnow 5:31
8. Today Sister 5:10
9. Trouble Rouble 7:58
10. October Dane 6:41

Friday, March 02, 2018

Santigold -- Santogold


Almost ten years ago, I heard Santigold's "Lights Out" in a beer commercial, went to the record store, and bought her album. It was like $9 for the vinyl. I miss The Compact Disc Store on Jefferson, ironically for its nice, fairly priced vinyl collection. That was nine bucks well spent. Santigold's confusingly titled debut, Santogold,is excellent, a diverse collection of pop-songs tinged with 80's new wave and reggae. There's even some dub tossed in just for fun. I generally hate pop-music, unless it's well written, well performed, and contains semblance of actual humanity, generally because the actual artists wrote the songs, and I don't know, people actually played real instruments to make it--this album's got all those things and great atmosphere to boot. Santigold manages to infuse both an island and grimy New York punk feel into these eleven tracks, and considering my earliest childhood memories of enjoying music involve both Bob Marley and The Police, and I went punk rock crazy the first year of college, these songs easily unlock my dopamine chambers. Santigold's vocal performance itself is one of the most fun on record from the 00's, careening from snarky punk attitude, to melodic near-rapping, to lightly sweet. She's put out two albums since this one, and I feel bad that I don't own them, as well. I'd trade 1,000 of whoever's popular now for 1 Santigold.
Also, this album works great on vinyl! Ending side A with the dark and trippy "My Superman," then springing side B with the upbeat and bright "Lights Out" is brilliant. Also, that gold-vomiting album cover can always stand to be bigger.

2008 Downtown Records
1. L.E.S. Artistes 3:24
2. You'll Find a Way 3:00
3. Shove It 3:46
4. Say Aha 3:35
5. Creator 3:33
6. My Superman 3:00
7. Lights Out 3:12
8. Starstruck 3:54
9. Unstoppable 3:32
10. I'm a Lady 3:43
11. Anne 3:28
12. You'll Find a Way 3:12