In a sense, the creation of some music albums can be viewed as the creation of artifacts, like a precipitate left after a chemical reaction. In the case of Joanna Newsom’s *Ys*, the songs are artifacts of events that she experienced over the course of a year. Listening to it, I begin to think that perhaps the lengthy nature of the songs is an attempt to take the microscopically small moments we experience and stretch them into a more tangible form. The moments we realize we are looking at something beautiful and mysterious — and the mornings we wake up and realize we are in love — are all moments that come, go, and change something inside of us. To me, Newsom has managed to capture the magical wonder that comes with such times. She has crafted what most of us are incapable of creating in our lives: a firm, finite representation of possibly infinite feelings and transformations that she has experienced. She is offering us proof of these occurrences.

The sound of the album is quite unlike anything else out today. Newsom is a classically trained harpist, and has a versatile, unique voice. This album also sounds different from her debut because she chose to embellish most of the songs with an orchestra, as well as an accordion and other sounds. The orchestrations were penned by Van Dyke Parks, who worked with Brian Wilson on both the 1966 and 2004 Smile album sessions. In terms of recording, the album was engineered by Steve Albini and produced by Jim O’Rourke, two unimaginably colossal gods in the music world. Albini has recorded bands like Low, Nirvana, and Slint, while O’Rourke made Sonic Youth good again a few years back and released solo work that spans the rock, experimental, and electronic genres. In short, an overwhelming mountain of talent has come together to make this record — and it sounds minimal! The instrumentation is gentle, the production transparent; Newsom’s voice is always at the center of your attention. It was a relief for me to hear the album and notice that Newsom retained complete control over the sound despite collaborations with industry superstars who overshadow her in experience.

In relation to her debut, The Milk Eyed Mender, *Ys* is a more epic affair and, in a way, represents everything a strong sophomore album (something that almost no band can achieve these days) should be: more adventurous, personal, and exciting, while retaining the musical elements that made the first such a fascinating debut — the minimal setting of harp and voice.

David Hartunian | Special to The Tartan

For most, the genre “goth/industrial” brings diverse musicians and bands like Marilyn Manson or Nine Inch Nails to mind, but the more musically conscious may make a clearer distinction between goth and industrial. To a certain extent, both parties are correct in their classifications, mainly because of the constant molding and remolding of music by a number of key musicians who draw from an extensive palette of inspiration.

Goth and industrial started out as different types of music, but they both have roots in some form of social commentary. Originating in the early to mid-1970s, the term “industrial music” was coined by Industrial Records, a label created specifically for the release of experimental music by bands such as Throbbing Gristle. “Industrial,” at that point, was more of an ironic statement about how streamlined and formulaic music had become during that time, and these experimental musicians were not hesitant to use graphic and politically incorrect imagery alongside their music to make a social point — much akin to their cousin, punk music, which was itself in some ways the predecessor of goth music.

It may be surprising — but shouldn’t be shocking — that punk music preceded goth music. Punk, in all of its stripped-down structure, couldn’t possibly have survived in the long run. It was during this point that punk musicians started experimenting with more complex ways of expression through their music, particularly by developing an artistic sensitivity while still retaining a punk iconoclastic stance. As the moody middle child between punk and pop-electro music that was prevalent at the time, bands such as Joy Division (and subsequently New Order), Siouxsie and the Banshees, and the Sisters of Mercy brought goth music out from punk/post-punk into gothic.

Today, goth and industrial have combined through shared aesthetics, subcultural survival, and even basic back-and-forth borrowing of styles. In this way, goth/industrial can be considered a single genre today. It draws from electronic music the most and, depending on the musician and amount of commercialization that the musician has been exposed to, the roots of goth and industrial can still be heard in the music.

In all my preparation to study abroad in Switzerland this semester, one thing I did not figure out was how often the soundtrack of my travels would come to the forefront. From the first exhausted step into my temporary home, I began to see American music in a completely different light. I was shocked — nay, disgusted — by the popularity of the breathy voice of Paris Hilton when I first turned on the TV. MTV Europe is one of three channels in English we get in our apartment. I thought I was in serious trouble, musically speaking… but it hasn’t been that bad.

Shortly after I moved in, a town festival blasted 2 Live Crew only a street down from the Beatles, with the Swiss drunkenly milling about and mumbling heavily accented lyrics to “Pop that Pussy” and “Yesterday.” “Aloha Night” at a local club promoted “American surf music,” which turned out to be wedding reception favorites like “The Twist” together with some stranger selections: Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire” mixed into Justin Timberlake. Even on the bus, I can usually pick up the faint sounds of Beyoncé or The Killers leaking out of the headphones of at least one fellow rider.

My favorite encounter with American pop music thus far has been in Hamburg, Germany. I had the intriguing opportunity to go to a karaoke bar, where I heard a passionate medley of Elvis tunes sung in a faux-American accent. That same night, I witnessed reasonably sober grown men singing along to the Backstreet Boys without any shame. (I sang along to ABBA, but that hardly counts; they’re Swedish.) A day later, I witnessed an extraordinarily amusing German hip-hop show, which, suffice it to say, deserves its own article.

Fortunately for me, the pervasiveness of American pop music here has been an advantage. My classmates know the perfect pronunciation of promiscuous thanks to Nelly Furtado, and they can drop it like it’s hot with the best of them. Getting away with listening to Justin Timberlake for the past three months has been fun, but it isn’t enough to satisfy my ironic hipster tendencies for much longer. I have to switch to something more disgustingly infectious to amuse myself, and Wham! is climbing up my Most Played list in iTunes.

I’ve got to cleanse my system and return to the too-cool U.S. of A. where this musical sacrilege isn’t tolerated on a regular basis — and listen to some ’80s-inspired indie remixes in somebody’s basement, stat.