It is always good to see the little band without label support make good. NYC's The Antlers had been plugging away in relative obscurity before their 2009 LP Hospice. The moving opus concerning a dying cancer patient and their caregiver is rife with drama and pathos as the buried vocals scratch and claw from under the sudden blasts of beautiful noise. On their follow-up out now on Frenchkiss Records, Burst Apart sheds the melancholy that made Hospice such a success, in favor of a composition that is lithe and sensual rather than oppressive. Ably venturing forth with "I Don't Want Love", The Antlers lead with their more accessible track. Featuring Peter Silberman's acrobatic falsetto and a solemn organ, this ode to combative lovers benefits from the band's new clarity and confidence. They continue their assuredness on "Parentheses" referencing the paranoid klaxon wails of OK Computer-era Radiohead while Silberman's suggestive lyrics seduce. On "Rolled Together" The Antlers prove that they can keep it simple with a lush, trance-inducing groove and an afflicted chant that floats into space. They even pull off an up tempo number in "Every Night My Teeth Are Falling Out" that still stays sultry while building into a rocking coda. The only criticism of Burst Apart is that it runs out of steam on the last songs, often abandoning the seductive groove they fostered and meandering off track instead of commanding attention. Still, The Antlers primary goal was to shed the weight of Hospice and prove they have more to offer than one dramatic concept album. In fact, Burst Apart not only exceeds these goals but resets any preconceived views of what The Antlers are.
English foursome Wild Beasts have made the topic of sex their milieu. The lyrical theatrics, both in content and delivery, are obvious in their epicene eroticism. On their third album Smother the instrumentation shares equal billing with the vocal acrobatics of Hayden Thorpe. Aching rhythms, playful guitar and opaque keys drift through the mix like a cloud, caressing the listener into a sleepy lull as Thorpe's falsetto embraces tightly and breathes right in your ear. The soaring drama of "Lion's Share" initiates Smother on a dark path, speaking of unredeemed sin and predatory intimacy. The laziness of "Deeper" loosens the reins a bit with a passionate croon and causal piano. The overtures get aggressively seductive on "Plaything" as the percussion intertwines with Thorpe's coos making pure bedroom fodder.
Wild Beasts are at their mightiest on "Loop The Loop" when the guitar finds that playful, circular groove setting a trap one would not want to escape. "Reach A Bit Further" extends that riff, as Thorpe's apologies for his stated indiscretions also encourage limits to be stretched. The aptly titled "End Come Too Soon" finishes out the album like daybreak, a Shakespearean ode to a carnal experience that is equally grateful for the memories and lamenting that all things must end. Ultimately Smother is a detailed exploration that is not for the faint of heart. Vocals featuring such poetic pornography and unabashed androgyny can be a bit unsettling. Glimpses into such private moments often are.
Bonus: Stream selections from Smother and watch the video for "Albatross" below.
What a strange, wonderful and dramatic trip the band TV on the Radio has been. They began with humble art school beginnings releasing a shoddy, self-produced CD and created their explosive debut album Desperate Youth, Bloodthirsty Babes less than two years later. The awesome consistency of the band as a unit and the various side projects of the members culminated in their latest release a month ago. It is apparent that this band's longevity or their level of success was never their ultimate goal. Yet here we are listening to Nine Types of Light with the loftiest expectations like the previous decade of creative output of this band was not just this accidental happenstance. Taking a moment to appreciate the huge accomplishment that is TV on the Radio is a prerequisite before listening to any of their releases. The singularity in their sound and the sheer emotional content in their music is unfailingly awe inspiring. Once you put this journey of this band in context, the appreciation comes naturally.
TV on the Radio is always at their best when its avant-garde sound grinds down its retro tastes to a thorn that gets unforgettably stuck. The gradual build on opener "Second Song" tills new soil once again as the lyrics begin at a spoken word confessional that swells into a sweet groove complete with their tip of the hat to retro soul and doo-wop. "New Cannonball Blues" preaches on with end-of-the-world imagery and some well placed profanity amidst the bleating horns and electronic rhythms. Connecting to "Repetition", TV on the Radio lifts from hip hop, Kraftwerk, and The Temptations' antiwar epic "Ball Of Confusion" and throws them into the blender for a pureed glass of paranoia and chaos. The heady romantic strings over the industrial throb on "Forgotten" brings what begins as a light hearted ode to a fitting mushroom cloud finish.
The biggest pill to ingest is the emphasis on balladry on Nine Types of Light that seems to take the teeth out of their gritty sound. The two lengthiest tracks, "Keep Your Heart" and "Killer Crane" can drag in their ultimate trek for tender moments. Yet, they nail the sentiment on "You" that sways with a siding riff and perfect falsetto. Another standout slow jam is the soulful "Will Do" that deftly traverses the space between the apocalypse and Marvin Gaye. The reoccurring theme of a bleak future is common for TV on the Radio, but the emotional nature of some of the songs on Nine Types of Light is a new topic still being explored. Perhaps the long illness and untimely passing of their bass player Gerard Butler had an influence in their more positive and heartfelt reflections. The confrontational nature is still an indelible force on their newest effort. It just rides shotgun with TV on the Radio's best artistic expressions of love itself.
TV on the Radio will be headlining the Pitchfork Music Festival Sunday July 17. Tickets are still available, so you are a fool if you don't go.
Bonus: Stream samples of Nine Types of Light and download various songs below. Also, watch the corresponding movie to the album that the band is calling "a visual re-imaging of the record". Included are videos of every song directed by various artists and friends of the band.
Indie rock's love affair with adoring homages to the past and recycling retro sounds is still going strong. NYC's The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart have constructed their sound by slathering their pop nuggets with huge helpings of Brit-based shoegaze and 90's alt-rock. Their 2009 self-titled debut on Slumberland Records had the right balance with catchy songs, obscured vocals, hazy feedback and a lively tempo to get lots of attention. Two years later brings Belong featuring a squeaky clean production and a clarity that gives the band a bit of confidence to turn down the fuzz, switch up their cadence and try new methods of delivery.
The Pains put their best foot forward on Belong by lining up the hit singles right at the beginning. "Belong" is a rolling jam sourcing Smashing Pumpkins so accurately all that is missing is Billy Corgan's nasally squeal. The rockers "Heaven's Gonna Happen Now" and "Heart In Your Heartbreak" bring the goods with power chords and synth fills buoyed by the precious lead vocals. However, the rest of the album is a middling effort with each song lacking a distinct identity and most having forgettable and flimsy lyrics. One redeemable track is the surf fuzz of "Girl Of 1,000 Dreams" where they quickly make their case as serious guitar heroes but could do for a little more attitude. Ultimately, it is the super slick production that actually hinders Belong where a bit of raw energy and inspired imperfection might actually give these recordings a little more heart.
It seems suitable that the champions of the slowcore movement to be from a region where the winter months can be longer that the other three seasons combined and where its bitter cold and quiet isolation is simply part of life. Duluth Minnesota outfit Low has been crafting their unique brand of achingly mesmerizing music for almost 20 years. In the beginning, Low albums were an exercise in caustic and somber restraint. Each plaintive guitar strum or strike of the snare drum was like a knife to the heart as their verses were exhaled as withering final breaths. Around the turn of the millennium, the band began to peel away the sobering, furrowed nature of their music in remix EP's and exploring a more emphatic sound on their later albums. Their latest effort out on Sub Pop explores another new frontier as some of the ten songs on C'mon make a cautious move toward positivity.
The lullaby opening of "Try To Sleep" stands in contrast to their previous stark and deliberate expressions. Still delicate, Low chooses tenderness over melancholy here with lovely percussion and a resonating sweetness. This edict continues as the first half of C'mon adopts an elevated and uplifting musical dialogue. The instruments and words of drummer/vocalist Mimi Parker synchronize on "You See Everything" making a compelling and uplifting hymn. Her good work continues on "Especially Me" as her potent thumps and somnambulistic chant glow with hypnotic beauty. They even rock out on "Witches" as Alan Sparhawk works through track like a sermon, preaching his lyrics and sending a guitar laden message drenched in reverberation.
C'mon's latter half travels through the more familiar territory of Low's nineties output. "Majesty/Magic" is sparse and wounded, building into a tempest from a simple raincloud. The angry lyrics on "$20" are spit out as the subtle movements fill the empty space then end with abrupt chagrin. The epic "Nothing But Heart" finally rolls out vitriol, repeating the chorus as an affirmation that swells to assertion as the slide guitar hums out the clamoring feedback until the bitter end.
Until the four year wait for C'mon, Low was incredibly prolific, releasing LP's, EP's, singles and a 3 disc compilation of non-album tracks at the rate of once every nine months since 1994. It seems unusual that their longest hiatus brought such comparatively lively music to their repertoire. Perhaps it was actually difficult for them to find inspiration somewhere other than pain. It is a comfort that Low is never complacent, always challenging themselves to explore new boundaries for their unparalleled sound.
Bonus: Check out the new video for "Try To Sleep" below.
Every city has that talented band that should have been bigger than what it was and only gathered a fraction of the attention and love nationally that their hometown fans willingly give. In Chicago, there are no better candidates for this title than Eleventh Dream Day. For almost three decades, the core members of Rick Rizzo, Douglas McCombs and Janet Beveridge Bean have been exploring the boundaries of rock and roll at its most sincere. Their humble beginnings are the stuff of legend starting with the blistering microlabel breakthrough Prairie School Freakout that garnered a major label contract on Atlantic. Three albums of brilliant, yet ignored muscular music tinged with punk brought an unceremonious contractual release and the next, independent phase of Eleventh Dream Day's tenure. One album on jazz/experimental label Atavistic led to a comfortable home on Thrill Jockey where finally this battle tested trio of well traveled virtuosos gets the appropriate support and respect they deserve. For their tenth LP, and their first in five years, Eleventh Dream Day have decided to go back to their untamed roots for Riot Now! with essentially positive results.
Eleventh Dream Day are all in from the jump, reeling off three bare-boned barn burners that would make any new indie band blush with jealousy. "Damned Tree" creaks and moans from heft like a old building well past capacity. All instruments including Rizzo and Bean's confrontational duet are raw and unfiltered allowing the live energy to burst from the performance. The burning guitar work spills into the lively stomp on "Cold Steel Grey" squealing under the practiced hands of Rizzo while the dependable bass of McCombs is the concrete that holds it all together. Finishing the opening trilogy is "Satellite" that gets that extra boost from the new addition of Mark Greenberg. His storm cloud effects under the rhythm section burst like Mother Nature and punctuate the album's missive.
The rest of Riot Now! vacillates through the Eleventh Dream Day catalog like a well-eared collection of an author's best work. "That's What's Coming" and "Away With Words" are lovely expressions not unlike the lengthiest songs from Eighth, beginning with flecks of feedback that burst into Rizzo's howling riffs. The hearty Americana rock of Lived To Tell is referenced in "Divining For Water" and "Sonic Reactor" where Rizzo does his best Neil Young homage while the rest of the band stoke the fury. Although this is an Eleventh Dream Day album, Riot Now! is a Rick Rizzo showcase burning with the guitar work and guileless lyrics that made this band so beloved for a quarter of a century.
The record release party for Riot Now! is on Friday, April 22 at Lincoln Hall in Chicago with Eleventh Dream headlining the show. Tickets are still available here.
To be a fan of The Feelies, patience is a manifest prerequisite. Since their first album in 1980, the band has managed to release five full lengths in just over three decades. The act of listening to their meticulous music also takes a deliberate ear. The Feelies are much more than awkward elder statesmen of what was originally called Modern Rock. They share a direct lineage with The Velvet Underground whose monumental influence was propagated from simple mantras. Keep it simple. Take your time. Work within set boundaries. Deliver it effortlessly. 20 years after their last recording, The Feelies decide that the time is now for a new album. Even more surprising is how time has been suspended on Here Before, accurately representing the band through their more fertile years. It is the quality shines through despite the fact that The Feelies buttoned-up, yet earnest brand of music seems so unfashionable in the 21st century.
Kicking off Here Before is "Nobody Knows" where they lyrically express disbelief that they are even in the studio in 2011. The opening lines "Is it too late/To do it again/Or should we wait/another ten?" are self-aware but pinpoint accurate as they have a chuckle with their long waiting followers. The wistful lyrics throughout Here Before couple well with the branded Feelies guitar jangle, rubbery bass and crisp, purposeful percussion. "Should Be Gone" follows that lead adding some backing vocal harmony and a muted solo that could have been lifted from any of the previous works in their catalog. Continuing down memory lane are uptempo numbers "Time Is Right" and "When You Know" that remind of the high point rockers from 1988's Only Life without overextending themselves.
That jangle is what is instantly recognizable about the Feelies, but true beauty is found in their exercises in repetition and minutiae. The elemental nature of tracks such as "Later On" and "On and On" initially seem forgettable, but stick around as the infectious nature as the cyclic riff finds its place. The Feelies almost get emotional on "Morning Comes" stepping out from lyrical ambiguity and actually gritting their teeth with each annoyed pluck. "Change Your Mind" continues this trend, slowly building from restraint to a rockout coda that finishes with vitality and spark.
The concept throughout Here Before is whether or not one should move on from the past. Even the pastoral album cover looks like a idyllic place for the retirement that The Feelies left behind. Unlike the countless aged bands who are on nostalgia tours or half-assing new music just to cash-in, The Feelies did themselves a service by making a respectable and thought-out album that still works within the band's mission. They made a lot of committed and patient fans very happy as well.
Wye Oak are a duo out of Baltimore made up of Andy Stack and Jenn Wasner. Since 2006, their tenure has produced three albums, as well as last year's EP My Neighbor/My Creator, of stark and brooding music that relied heavily on the well-worn indie rock sensibility of LOUDquietLOUD. Lots of bands have built their nesteggs on that bedrock. The ones that breakthrough and leave their indelible mark on music do so with that extra intangible that keeps listeners coming back. For Wye Oak, that moment of truth comes on Civilian where they have never have to lean too heavily on harsh bluster. Instead their latest focuses on well crafted, tuneful music that moves mountains with the gentlest whispers.
The opening track of Civilian begins with the ambiance of a crowded theater setting up the anticipation of an event. Yet "Two Small Deaths" does not come off strong or heavy-handed. The simple guitar and ethereal vocals are a gentle push, building from subtlety. "The Alter" continues on this path, building momentum with a swelling tempo and throbbing organ while using the wordplay in the title to encourage the album's tangential religious theme. The first shakedown comes on "Holy Holy" where Wasner's guitar channels Sister-era Sonic Youth blasts of noise that never disturb her deadpan vocals. However, the song truly accomplishes its goal by muting the dissonance in favor of satisfying pop finish bursting to fruition. The Sonic Youth reference continues with the clatter of "Dogs Eyes" if only to prove that they can deftly traverse the avenues between harmony and discord.
The title track continues Civilian's streak of affected, anxious music with a pleasing outcome. The slow build is haunting yet ultimately alluring with outlaw riffs propelled by an insistent galloping beat from Stack. "Fish" has an ebb and flow that etches out a moment of lovely without losing any energy. It is merely the set-up before the uppercut of "Plains", where the unexpected sound blasts are stunning, but never distract from the woozy mood. By the time the awkward, lonely guitar of "Doubt" finishes Civilian, it is welcome and fitting for an album that is thick with the efforts of a band realizing their desired intention.
There is a lot of studied consideration on Civilian. The evidence can be seen in each song, perhaps an influence referenced, a vocal inflection utilized or an earnest melody found, that makes each song memorable. The ten songs are thoughtfully plotted like the elements of a treasure map where the general direction is sketched but the details are discovered during the journey. It is this kind of marked achievement that is not easily forgotten and should bring Wye Oak the attention and accolades they richly deserve.
Lykke Li, the Swedish-born chanteuse turned heads in 2008 with her full length debut Youth Novels. It was a solid effort featuring slight instrumentation, a simple guitar pluck here, a piano plink there, eking a delicate framework for her sweet vocals. Charming and sugary, Youth Novels attracted a lot of fans and built anticipation for her follow-up. However, the persona Lykke Li inhabits for Wounded Rhymes was definitely unexpected. Gone are the cutesy coos and the come hither delivery. Like a long shadow, the stories creep over and inhabit the listener well after the album is over.
Writing a review of something that is the subject of massive promotional hype is somewhat daunting and a bit of a challenge. Over the past year there was many of those bands (Arcade Fire, LCD Soundsystem, Interpol, Radiohead) who dropped albums with a preset loftiness that could never be reached and an unattainable expectation to please everyone. Next in the sights is the fourth album from The Strokes, an oft delayed and long overdue effort from a band who gets discounted because of a holier-than-thou cool, indie boy band handsomeness and a upper class/prep school pedigree. The New York quintet is no stranger to high expectations as their debut Is This It? is often cited as one of the best albums of the past decade by journalists both from the UK and the States. Successive LP's Room On Fire and First Impressions Of Earth have sparkling moments, but suffered from comparison and The Strokes conspicuous, shrugging delivery. Being too cool to try is great for an unestablished band but is often met with equaling indifference once they reach mainstream success. Now on Angles, the guys have the perception of an outfit who needs to work at it for the first time in their tenure. Even more worrisome is the fact that from all their earnest effort they have made an album that does not achieve any more than what is found here.
Since they are trying to recapture the magic of Is This It?, it only make sense to bring back some of those proven sounds on Angles. "Machu Picchu" begins with a lazy guitar pluck and Julian Casablancas croon that apes the opener on their debut. The track then takes a surprising path into a muscular riff for the chorus where he asserts he is "just trying to find a mountain he can climb". With the first track, The Strokes have set their sights on the zenith and dig in for the long haul. "Under Cover Of Darkness" got an early free internet release and fanned the hype flames with its inarguable quality. (Read my initial review and download the song for free here.) This is the band at the height of their craft, seamlessly blending a seventies power chord strut, sock hop bass/beat combo and wail from Casablancas that reveals an emotional purpose in his delivery not seen since...well, ever. It is this track that actually reveals The Strokes as a band that could be as vital as they were a decade ago.
The Strokes decided to open up the floodgates and, for better or worse, unleash their latest bouts with nostalgia. Gratefully, the next few tracks are still strong enough to stand ably with Angles' openers. "Two Kinds of Happiness" is a early era Cars homage complete with a skinny-tied guitar and post-disco synth bedrock. The jittery strums continue on "Taken For A Fool" that employs a chorus of high stepping cadence and lyrics ripe for the sing-a-long. The high times finish at "Games" where the new-wave keys take center stage as the bass tiptoes next to another lyrical cry for something better. For the better part of this album, it seems that The Strokes might reach some of those plateaus they stumbled upon as petulant young men. "Call Me Back" is meant to be a diversion featuring plaintive voice and a lonely guitar but ends up a roadblock as Casablancas can't manage to muster any enthusiasm. The Billy Joel wannabe "Gratisfaction" is borderline offensive as guitarist Albert Hammond Jr. seems to be clutching for anything while lifting music from the 70's MOR-era of his musician father. The old-school pilfering occurs again on "Life Is Simple In The Moonlight" where this finishing touch on The Strokes return to greatness meanders under the dull performances of all the band members as if they were exhausted from trying so hard.
Separating a band from its catalog is a tall order in an album review. Although all artists are considered by their body of work, each piece stands alone as its own statement. If Angles was anything but a Strokes album, it may get a lot more love for nailing down their reflections on a laid-back, good times retro sound (Recent band Free Energy is a good example of this.) Alas, they can't escape that they are The Strokes, the guys that revived that infectious, angular punk rock sound and gushed with an overabundance of what the kids call "swag". Now it seems they want their mojo back so bad, they end up looking uncool for their efforts. Just taking a look at the difference between this classic video and this recent undertaking should make things clear. Honestly, Angles is The Strokes best LP since their first one. Yet despite some truly great moments, it is merely of collection of good and bad songs with no common thread, only ambitious attempts and missed opportunities.
Listen to the tracks below and click on the arrows to download the tracks for free. Or, you can stream Angles in its entirety on the worlds ugliest widget here.
Ah yes, chillwave. That oft-referenced, uber-hip, bastard child of other established and celebrated genres has definitely made its mark. This musical reinterpretation of organic beauty as filtered by technology has produced a handful of noteworthy artists, albums and songs proving it much larger than a microgenre. Still, how will we know when chillwave is on the downturn and its fifteen minute fame clock begins to flash in red? Let's start with Exhibit A. One of the beneficiaries of the genre's crest is Chaz Bundick, aka Toro Y Moi. His first album Causers Of This is considered one of the foundation elements of chillwave, featuring instruments that are bent and phazed beyond recognition. It is more of a experience than a listen as the tracks carry only remnants of the sounds his instruments and voice originally made. Definitely challenging, always striking and at times undeniably beautiful, Toro Y Moi established that he could take his influences, push them through the meat grinder of studio tricks and make something entirely fresh. On his next effort, Underneath The Pine, it seems that Bundick abandons the chillwave construct with a hefty sense of bravery opting for less studio process and revealing a confidence that no longer needs the arctic blanket that swathed his earlier music.
The opener "Intro/Chi Chi" is pure shoegaze with no chaser that sets a misleading expectation right away. It is grand and sprawling which makes the next track "New Beat" a bit jarring with its non-filtered funk flavor. The loving groove is flush with influence: Prince, Chicago house, Hammond organ via Blue Note. It feels like the shackles of second guessing have been removed causing Bundick to throw his hands up to rejoice. Tracks such as "Go With You", "Got Blinded" and "How I Know", with their otherworldly bleeps, xylophone tickles and retro organ settings, channel the space-age bachelor pad sound that Henry Mancini and Burt Bachrach created and Stereolab modernized. "Divina" and "Before I'm Done" get drowsy and atmospheric as Toro Y Moi comes down with a case of Francophilia. By this time, any consideration for Toro Y Moi's past sound is forgotten as the music throughout Underneath The Pine is endearing, joyous and, above all, fully coherent.
Toro Y Moi gets back to the business of getting funky on "Still Sound" where the groove is so smooth, you expect to see backup singers stepping in sync for the music video. (Check out the actual video at the bottom of this post.) Although his vocals are thick with reverb, this is a throwback R&B jam to make you blow the dust off those Commodores LPs. Finally, Underneath The Pine gets around to showcasing some chillwave chops on "Good Hold". However, the slight pitch bends and breezy synth soundscapes are no more than a slight afterthought, proving that his bag of tricks is capacious, varied and accumulating in perpetuum. Finishing up is the languishing "Elise" that at least loosely carries the chillwave aesthetic. The song drifts along and fades away as if the simple groove could last forever. It becomes noticeable upon the finish of Underneath The Pine that this was a statement record for Chaz Bundick, proving that he much more than a purveyor of chillwave. As for the genre itself, it remains to be seen if we are in the midst of the final bows. Losing someone as talented as Toro Y Moi doesn't help.
Now that last week's shitstorm of hype concerning the new Radiohead LP The King of Limbs has calmed down, we can all take a breath and wipe the expectation out of our bleary eyes. The pre-narrative for their eighth studio album is already been exhaustedly retold. This is the band's second self-release after dumping Capitol Records. It is following up the brilliant 2007 LP In Rainbows where the band allowed the buyers to pay what they felt the new album was worth. Not only did they send the big labels scrambling for innovation or cowering in fear, they forged a road for independent musicians to follow. In 2011, they take a different route to market by releasing an album with only four days of notice and no teasing single, clip or promo video to fan the flames of hype. This not only caused the groundswell of excitement by its suddenness, but acted as another sharp stick to the eye to record companies showing that their methods of marketing are even less necessary. So here we are with The King of Limbs, a strange and introspective collection that is less about grand themes or Radiohead's place in history as World's Greatest Band than ever before.
The King of Limbs opens with the weight of the world being shaken off in "Bloom" where the anarchic drum beats and medicinal pulse signposts an impossible moment being brought to life. Thom Yorke moans from the depths of space, opining about "The Universal Sigh" to perhaps reference the mundane nature of being so expansive. There is an intentional disconnect here and the distance does not close throughout the first half of the album. The jittery nature continues on the caffeinated "Morning Mr. Magpie" where Radiohead begins to approach accessibility, if only with a careful step. This Beatlesque title is anything but pop, a heated rant at no one or everyone. The gasps for air are desperate while a bristled guitar carves out a safe place for the music to retreat and breathe. "Little by Little" also creeps forward with a never-ending staircase of bass and a metronomic tick-tock coming from one of Salvador Dali's dripping clocks. It is sensual but still distrustful, wanting to touch but blocked by "Obligation, Complication, Routines and Schedules". It is a great dose of reality before the fearful track "Feral" where Yorke's manipulated grunts and howls are slathered with studio tricks and a frantic scampering of instruments. This plays out as the audio accompaniment to the band's full retreat from their stratospheric status.
The drops that fill the ambiance of "Lotus Flower" convey a restored openness through the new warmth in Yorke's vocals. It is a grand gesture of love that stands out from this uneasy album, yet fits with its awkward clutches for closeness. This spills into the emotive piano piece "Codex" that reminds of the murky depths of "Pyramid Song", complete with matched references to a fateful dip turned into a welcome drowning. Acoustic guitar finally finds its place in "Give Up The Ghost" where they keep it simple yet lush as they gradually let go of that heavy cumbersome past. Finishing with "Separator" is an aching hum, tapped out percussion and the dreamily woven lyrics that gets back to the notion of escape that started The King of Limbs. The guitar causally noodles through the rest of the dynamic as the band floats away back into orbit, unreachable but never quite out of view.
Their has been a lot of hypotheses floating about based on this stark and atypical album. So many have questioned whether this was just an amuse-bouche before the main course where fans would have appetites sated. The band has previously stated that the making of a new album, with the need for an adhered and focused theme, is something they are not interested in making any longer. Still The King of Limbs seems to have many themes, whether they are contradictory or just more reasonable. The common element in the music with all of its twitches and tension sets the mood of the band's discomfort with their station. The eight songs could be split into two EP's with the first half being telescopically distant while the second is a warm yet tentative embrace. The music is an exercise in repetition and a statement of rejection, being anti-pop, anti-structure, anti-perfection. Here on The King of Limbs, we have a band who still enjoy that they are just that, but are relinquishing their accountability to create anything of bombast or expected greatness. There is a common motif here and that is that they are finished with common motifs.
Forgive me, but I am someone who does not carry fond memories of 90's music. Just the phrase itself is weighty with the tepid shrugs of a decade's tremendous potential and subsequent lost opportunities. Specifically, this is in reference to the explosion of alternative rock music in that era. So many bands from that time period, deserved or not, scooped up the benefits of the major label money grab in their desperate search for the next power chord providers for Generation X. For those listeners that dug a little deeper in our musical excavations, we knew that the best stuff never quite made it to the mainstream. Because of their independent battle scars, bands such as Dinosaur Jr., Superchunk, Sebadoh, Yo La Tengo, Guided By Voices, Teenage Fanclub, et al., all receive detailed and deserved chapters in the indie rock canon. When a band such as Yuck strolls into this modern day landscape making music accurately referencing a two decade old sound without a shade of irony, your inner skeptic may immediately bristle. If this is you, take the following words as a reassuring hand on your shoulder. This foursome of practiced youngsters from London and their self-titled release on Fat Possum is not a joke. They are a serious band adding sensible imperfection to a pristine package, giving reason for this curmudgeonly former "alt-rocker" to relive all of the great moments of my musical past.
I just discovered this band a short time ago, but they have been gathering blog support for many months on the backs of some great singles. However, their first album is a coming out party, containing a dozen songs of deep hooks of prototypal lo-fi. In fact, you can literally connect the dots from all of the cross-referencing of their source material. Opener "Get Away" is a Superchunk nugget with a Dinosaur Jr. squall and lazy chorus. "The Wall" could be a Yo La Tengo Painful era b-side that rumbles and squeals with another big crowd pleasing finish. When Yuck brings it down a notch, they still source with loving nostalgia. "Shook Down" has Teenage Fanclub harmonies and acoustic-electric dynamics. "Suicide Policemen" features cute tropicalia flourishes and male-female vocal sweetness that remind of an Evan Dando/Juliana Hatfield collab for the Lemonheads big label debut. "Operation" is a literal hogpile of the afore-mentioned bands coated with a ragged Sebadoh distortion. Finishing up with a seven minute calamity in "Rubber", the grungy memories spill from this storm of noble noise and muffled vocals like those drawn out encores for concert goers that never wanted that ear-buzzing evening of brilliance to end.
I was trying to find that line that divided Yuck from the their old school resource material. Everything is there from that era in music: lusty guitar jams, catchy hooks, sassy lyrics and the purposeful absence of studio sheen. Heck, even their moniker Yuck could have been a song name or an album title from any one of those bands. Then it struck me. The difference is identical to the ones my generation has with much of the twenty-somethings that are coming of age now. These bands of the past carried their independence like a membership card and battled the mainstream with a cynical humor and sneering skepticism that only allowed entry to the ones who are in on the joke. The songs of Yuck are bursting with an all-inclusive optimism and confidence that comes an outfit unrestrained by the constructs of yesterday. Bands are no longer marketing, recording, touring and struggling to get heard at such a weighted disadvantage to major record label interests. To that, I say good tidings to these upstarts who took the time to study their history before passing their big exam with flying colors.
Bonus: Listen to the full album below, download a couple of tracks and watch the low-budget horror flick send-up video for "Holing Out". Warning: Video is NSFW containing some nudity and graphic bloodiness.
Australian gents Cut Copy have been on a tear since their 2008 breakthrough In Ghost Colours. Lots of love from critics spun into a huge worldwide tour including an early evening spot at Lollapalooza. Their trademark blend of new wave, disco, pop and techno was as inspired as it was addictive. For the next album, staying the course could mean a faded, shady facsimile of what they have already perfected. Using too much of one genre's influence could be that heavy-handed ingredient that throws the whole blend off balance. For their third release on Modular Records, Zonoscope brings vast possibility with the added pressure of deeper expectation.
The positivity that flooded from In Ghost Colours carries over in Zonoscope with the slow build of "Need You Now". Playing out like nouveau redux of the theme to Chariots Of Fire, the joyous energy is only restrained for full impact upon the bursting finale. "Take Me Over" is an airy pop ditty featuring lively piano fills, congo drums and disco bass that could be wedged into your "Lost Tracks of the 80's" mixtape. The overlap spills into the pre-release track "Where I'm Going" that begins to fill the Cut Copy prerequisite for dance anthems. The insistent march spurns the freeing sing-a-long that begs for a crowd led chant. The organ pulse and swirl is fresh and full of life, showing early that Zonoscope has found that true equilibrium measuring all of Cut Copy's influences while making something completely autonomous from their earlier albums.
There are a lot of bands who wear their new wave influences well and can ably back it with catchy dance bass and beats. What sets Cut Copy apart is their never-fail structure of an undeniable introducing hook that gets bandied about like a joke until the song's crescendo swells and pops like a balloon full of confetti around the 2/3 mark. "Pharaohs and Pyramids" is great example of their acumen. The groovy snyths and clap tracks definitely keep the ear busy, but it could have been lost on the listener before it was remembered. At the 2:54 mark, the change drops and you realize that the previous piece was just a distraction for this song's true purpose. This rope-a-dope style of affixing two separately enticing elements into one whole runs throughout Zonoscope. "This Is All We've Got" is another Cut Copy anthem featuring a drill sargent tempo that lifts the hyper-general lyrics to grandiose heights. Of course, they are simply working a pop music staple that lyrics should never overreach or get too deep. "Alisa", for example, could be anyone with only the name to tip the listener off on the gender. This is of little consequence as Cut Copy rolls out their most guitar-based track. It is a varied and welcome addition to Zonoscope and perhaps it's only missing element. Where it lacks in rock, it generously provides in dance beats. Finishing up is the techno-inspired "Corner of the Sky" that nags for countless remixes to fulfill all the micro-genres in the widespread wilderness of club music. The ambient traffic noise is a break before the Madchester homage "Sun God" that features house key sweeps and a Happy Mondays chorus that stretches on for ten extra minutes and establishing their concert encore for years to come.
Upon many listens to Zonoscope I am reminded of what a friend said about LCD Soundsystem's This Is Happening. When I was struggling to enjoy it, he said that it was their one true "album" where the other releases were more of a collection of songs. Zonoscope has a similar tenor in that it is unquestionably a great album and very different from the previous efforts. Only the process of time will help me decide which one album I like the best.
Bonus x2: Cut Copy recently released a free mixtape available for download that includes such diverse fare as A Guy Called Gerald, Happy Mondays, Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones and Kiss. Below that is the sports-themed video for "Need You Now". Feel the joy!
Brighton's Fujiya & Miyagi is a band built on contradictions with a penchant for the cryptic and cavalier. With their breakthrough 2006 singles comp Transparent Things, the trio's ubercool indifference and calculated minimalism permeated the mainstream via beer commercials and dancefloor culture through the mashup blogosphere (listen below). Tracks such as "Collarbone", "Ankle Injuries" and "In One Ear and Out the Other" have had enough legs to stay relevant five years later. Their followup Lightbulbs had moments but the lack of a grabber single was glaring. In 2011, the band as aesthete has become a fully functioning construct on their new LP Ventriloquizzing, emphasizing their Krautrock influences and stark minimalism by grinding their sound down to a microscopic tip then etching their marks and flourishes faintly on the fresh page.
The opening title track is a good reflection of Ventriloquizzing in its entirety. The influence of Kraftwerk and Can are omnipresent, yet Fujiya & Miyagi don't stray too far from the their hip swaying roots. What is different is the dark nature that shrouds the new LP. Where the previous releases strove for sweetness and light, the new tracks are featuring minor keys and omninous lyrics. It works best on first single "Sixteen Shades of Black and Blue", whose dirty tone slinks around while the descriptive lyrics are downright erotic with their deadpan delivery. "Minestrone" tips a hat to late 70's Talking Heads as the nonsensical ramble weaves through the funky mix. The atmosphere of cool continues on "Yoyo" where the exercise in repetition and minutiae is the draw without the extended drone that bands like Stereolab have perfected over the years.
There lies the missing element in Ventriloquizzing. Where Fujiya & Miyagi choose brevity in their minimalism, some tracks would have benefited from some sonic exploration. "OK" has a smooth simplicity and uses delicate piano plinks to make an impression, but the dark synth fills could have been pushed even further. Things become even more elementary and enigmatic on tracks like "Taiwanese Roots" which can be best described as a silly scat about eating. Ventriloquizzing gets gains its footing again on extended jam "Tinsel & Glitter" that throws in a spacey organ groove that almost breaks their "less is more" rule. For the most part, the choices that Fujiya & Miyagi were well advised and calculated. I am not sure it is going to sell any beer, but there is always the next album.
Fujiya & Miyagi - Sixteen Shades of Black and Blue
Fujiya & Miyagi- Yoyo
Bonus: Chicago mashup masters The Hood Internet love Fujiya & Miyagi and always seem to find the right balance with their hip-hop counterparts. Check out their website for oodles of free party starting mixes.
The Hood Internet - The Next Collarbone (Dr Dre x Fujiya & Miyagi)
The Hood Internet - What U Know About Transparent Things (TI x Fujiya & Miyagi)
Chicago's Disappears have already cut their teeth by making a grinder of a debut in Lux. Channeling some incredible noise and drone while blending it with heavy rock star grooves, it sourced lots of what was good and decent in the storied history of indie rock. Within 9 months of Lux, the band must have had some seriously inspired motivation to head back into the studio for Guider. Their are some connections to the previous album, but in general this is a completely new expression of their working theme.
First off, Guider is a full length album in the loosest and the most historical of terms by containing only 6 tracks and clocking in around 30 minutes. However, this band is truly a throwback in it's style and sound. The Disappears always intended Guider to be listened to on vinyl and its songs fit perfectly on that format. "Side A" would be the first five tracks of throbbing basement D.I.Y. that reminds of the experimental churn of no-wave NYC in the early 1980's. Opener "Superstition" sets the tone of Guider with its immediacy. Under two minutes in length, it is the cliffs notes version of their mission, hitting the ground running and even squeezing in a crescendo finish. "Not Romantic" is a more gradual expression that draws in the listener as the muted drone envelops like a void. The next two tracks "Halo" and "Guider" are the album rockers that work in a crisp tempo and intoned chants that never overreach the low production ceiling. Finishing up the first side is the druggy bliss of "New Fast" as an opening act to the epic final track. The near 16-minute expanse of "Revisiting" is the inspired scuzz rollercoaster that was perfected by bands such as Sonic Youth and the now defunct Spacemen 3. There is no beauty or grand guitar solos here, just that aching throb that is best experienced with headphones and some sort of chemical assistance. By the finish, it becomes apparent that Disappears are not about grand gestures but subtle moments that become part of the song's tapestry. Now with Steve Shelley of Sonic Youth fame filling in behind the drumkit, who knows what the future will hold for this constantly evolving band.
