Faronheit

Claire Boucher is nothing if not productive. As the singular force behind the musical pseudonym Grimes, she has released four full length records in the last 2 years. That started with 2010′s “Geidi Primes”, blossomed into “Halfaxa” later that year, and then continued building with “Darkbloom” last year. If you’ve heard approximately zero of those first three records, don’t beat yourself up too much; they sit and taunt from the deepest of deep levels in Canada’s underground electro scene. That is to say they were impressive and influential enough to earn Grimes some attention, but difficult and unfocused enough to keep her out of the spotlight for all practical purposes. Each of those first three albums was intended to play up a different side of her influences, and none of them were really all-encompassing efforts. Boucher herself has basically called them practice records for the real thing, which has finally resulted in her brand new album “Visions” complete with a brand new home on indie stalwart label 4AD. The end product is a remarkable and rather breathtaking skew on traditional pop music and electronica, complete with a supremely psychedelic edge that slices deep into your emotional reservoir even as it prods the pleasure centers of your brain with seductive beats and hooks.

The first thing you should know about Grimes is that she’s a producer before she’s a musician. Those two things are not mutually exclusive, but the whole point of mentioning it is because it affects the way she puts together songs. In fact, Boucher is doing what so many other forward-thinking artists are doing these days, which is attempting to break the rules of traditional songwriting and composing through the use of technology. At its core, “Visions” is a record created by a voice and a keyboard. Listening to it, there’s almost no way you’d realize that given all that’s going on. Virtually everything is run through some sort of filter or effect, and portions of songs are dubbed and overdubbed and smashed atop one another like some sort of sonic sandwich. Credit to Boucher for knowing when to stop adding more, because in more than a few cases it feels like the depths of some of the songs could be infinite. Her restraint is admirable and a great sign that she knows what she wants and tweaks it ever so slightly until she gets there. The ultimate result is a record that’s equal parts pop music and ambiance, pleasure and pain, not to mention human and computer.

The first track on “Visions” is “Infinite Love Without Fulfillment”, and it immediately lays out what to expect for the rest of the record. Lasting a mere 96 seconds, it confounds traditional song structure while maintaining a very danceable rhythm and sugar-sweet vocals. Boucher’s voice takes on 3 distinct personalities on the track, and they intermingle with one another with no regard for decency or clarity, to the point where it becomes like trying to listen to a single conversation in a room full of talking people. In spite of the perceived vocal confusion and the challenge of distinguishing lyrics, there’s a symbiosis and elegance to how all the moving pieces of the song work together. Indeed for most of “Visions” you’ll struggle to understand what Boucher is singing about, and that’s not always because of overdubbing. On the song “Genesis” for example, her singular voice is so drenched in echo it becomes the auditory effect of trying to see the car in front of you while driving through a dense fog. For “Eight”, she turns one of her vocals into a deep-voiced robot and another into a woman that’s clearly been breathing in way too much helium. Despite all the different ways Boucher throws her vocals around, there are a few moments of genuine clarity, and those brief snapshots tend to be about relationships going through some sort of turmoil. “Oh baby I can’t say/that everything will be okay,” Boucher sings on “Circumambient”, signalling right from the start that there’s problems. Towards the end of “Skin”, she’s also in a sad place, espousing, “You touch me again and somehow it stings/because I know it is the end.”

Lyrical content is really the last thing you should be looking for on “Visions” though, because it’s far more about how these songs come together than it is any message they’re trying to get across. Boucher herself has said in interviews that she often feels the need to cover up her lyrics out of self-criticism over her skills as a writer but also because the melodies themselves should be telling you how to feel and not the words. With so much emphasis placed on what’s being said and not the way it’s being said, that’s a very refreshing take on pop music. Think of this record like a synth-pop inspired version of Sigur Ros, where the vocals are first and foremost another instrument in the mix rather than something intended to sit front and center as a path to deeper understanding. Or, even better, there are portions of the album that are very K-pop and J-pop influenced, and whether you’re a fan of Dance Dance Revolution or simply like those sorts of songs without speaking the language, there’s plenty of moments such as “Nightmusic” that you’ll be able to wholly enjoy. In fact, there’s a whole host of influences on “Visions” that may tickle your fancy depending on your tastes. Obviously if you’re into electronica and its many subgenres like IDM and Balearic you’ll be impressed with the strong beats that populate much of the record. The same goes for devotees of 80s pop, wherein the strains of a track like “Vowels = space and time” calls to mind Stacy Q or “Oblivion” has something distinctly Cyndi Lauper about it. And while 2011 was the year of the R&B revival, songs like “Be A Body” and “Skin” break out those influences as well, the former even impressing with some sky-high Mariah Carey falsettos. In spite of the various swaths of genres across the album, it all holds together quite nicely thanks to Boucher’s dynamic production style and ability to put together a very strong melody.

It goes without saying that Grimes is one of the most exciting new talents to emerge out of an ever-evolving music scene. Her previous records all hinted at what “Visions” would be in one way or another, and it’s extremely pleasing to hear her finally fulfill much of that early potential. For all of its oddities, this record is extremely listenable from start to finish, and cuts like “Genesis”, “Oblivion”, “Circumambient” and “Nightmusic” make it supremely catchy as well. In many ways these songs feel like the next step towards a genuine breakthrough in music, one in which a multitude of styles gives birth to a beautiful new hybrid that’s more aesthetically pleasing than any single one of them on their own. The best part is there’s continued room for improvement and growth, even as this record hovers near the precipice of perfection. Grimes has been an artist to watch from the day she first started releasing music 2 years ago, but only now, thanks to “Visions” will she begin to earn the attention she truly deserves.

Grimes – Genesis
Grimes – Oblivion

Buy “Visions” from Amazon

Shearwater’s last three albums, 2006′s “Palo Santo”, 2008′s “Rook” and 2010′s “The Golden Archipelago” formed something of a trilogy for the band, a rather loose collection of songs with similar themes and sonic qualities. The whole thing came together last January when in a one-time performance in Austin, TX, the band played all 3 records back-to-back-to-back in a show they dubbed The Island Arc. The consensus in the band was The Island Arc was set to close that chapter of the band in preparation for their next step, which would be a bit different from the spacious and grandiose beauty of those three records. Besides, for all the orchestral swells and beauty that was “The Golden Archipelago”, it had reached a point of pretension that further enforced the idea that Shearwater was this niche band with a carved out, pre-built fan base. The quality was high, but not so many people allowed themselves to get into it. Moving beyond The Island Arc also brought more changes with it, including a switch of labels from Matador to Sub Pop, and producers from John Congleton to Phil Ek. This bold new adventure Shearwater has undertaken finally arrives in the form of their new album “Animal Joy”. For those turned off by the band’s expansive arrangements and complicated melodies in recent years, here’s a much simpler and more direct record that should give you a reason to take another look at Shearwater.

The cover art for “Animal Joy” tells you a lot about what to expect on the record itself. Two furry, clawed animal feet photographed in close-up, looking like they could tear just about anything apart, including a human being. It’s very primal in nature, and the music is too, like an attack straight at your jugular. That’s not to call it harsh or necessarily fierce, but for a band whose last 3 efforts have been largely gorgeous flights of fancy, the plain and direct way these songs are presented feels just a little bit alien. “Animal Life” quivers just a little in its finger-picked beginning, fragile but sparse beauty that it is, before Jonathan Meiburg gets his gusto up and tears into a dynamic and vital chorus. It makes for one of the poppiest songs in the band’s catalogue to date, and the ease at which it goes down is more comforting than you might think. The voracity at which single “Breaking the Yearlings” races along is equally thrilling, in part thanks to an overdubbed double percussion attack and some seriously deep guitar work. There is nothing delicate or even beautiful about it, even though the badass exterior it puts up projects a different sort of loveliness. The piano and drums chug of “You As You Were” brings a very Springsteen-esque quality to the track, which is tempered only by some plinking xylophone work and Meiburg’s commanding vocals as he chants, “I am leaving the life” as if he’s breaking free from an oppressed state. In fact much of the record’s themes are about the yearning to escape social conventions and embracing our own natural instincts.

Undoubtedly some will be left wishing for the more lush and gorgeous version of Shearwater from their last few albums, and the somewhat good news is that “Animal Joy” doesn’t leave those people completely out in the cold. The 6.5 minute “Insolence” does a fair and rather lovely job of bringing the first half of the record to a close in an epic ballad style that holds an air of familiarity to it. Following those moments of classic Shearwater comfort comes “Immaculate”, which roars to life at the pace of a cheetah and doesn’t slow down for even a second of its 2.5 minute duration. It is the most unique moment on the entire album, less because of originality’s sake and more because it is so unlike any of the other songs on the record. Yet after that point the album’s final few songs turn out rather bland and forgettable. “Open Your Houses (Basilisk)” tenderly jaunts along with such an instrumental similarity to Spoon that you half expect Britt Daniel to make a guest vocal appearance. The tenderness of “Run the Banner Down” and “Believing Makes It Easy” are very nice on the surface, but are ultimately very listless and whitewashed, almost as a means to an end. Speaking of the end, “Star of the Age” has plenty going for it instrumentally and vocally, but once again feels like another hat Shearwater is trying on to see if it fits. This particular piece of headwear feels as if it’s been worn a thousand times before by different people, none of whom have the same unique qualities Meiburg & Co. have going for them. Only the intensity and vibrance of “Pushing the River” brings some serious gravitas to the back half of the album, and it’s just a shame there aren’t more tracks like it to lend some additional support.

Shearwater is the sort of band that should know better by now. They’ve been in existence for over a decade, even if the first half of that was spent as Meiburg’s side project to Okkervil River. They’re right to want to change course and try something new, but it’s important to carefully think through a move like that before attempting it. “Animal Joy” has plenty of positives going for it, particularly in its very direct and pop-strewn first half, but eventually it loses sight of such fresh-faced charm and becomes a set of copies that it feels like we’ve heard before from different bands. Clearly their next evolutionary step is still under development. Call it a transitional record if you like, but by no means is this something to ignore. There’s moments that will suck you in and leave you breathless, while for others having the band show a little teeth and claws is a form of wish fulfillment. Meiburg’s vocals are as powerful as they’ve ever been, and drummer Thor Harris is allowed to shine like never before. If “Animal Joy” is treated by the band as a learning experience with the best moments used as a template for the future, things will undoubtedly remain bright for Shearwater in the future.

Shearwater – Breaking the Yearlings
Shearwater – You As You Were

Buy “Animal Joy” from Amazon

Tennis is a band that was born out of a concept, rather than vice versa. Alaina Moore and Patrick Riley lived what many might consider a dream for several months. Married and finished with college, they sold their possessions and bought a sailboat, then leisurely traversed up the East Coast on it. Consider it almost the alternative to spending a year backpacking in Europe. Their adventures and intense time spent together inspired them along with their shared love of music led to the creation of “Cape Dory”, their debut album. It was a fun little indie pop record that in many ways was a musical scrapbook of their trip, given that all the songs related to experiences they had and feelings felt during that time. Considering the duo has been touring almost nonstop since their album came out 13 months ago, it’s something of a wonder they found the time to write and record a follow-up. Even then, without a sailing excursion to mine for material, what would they come up with for the all-too-important sophmore effort? And though their first singles were lifted on the wings of blog hype, their debut wasn’t nearly as well-received as they might have hoped for. Does that put more or less pressure on them to make a great second album? With The Black Keys’ Patrick Carney in the producers chair and drummer James Barone being upgraded to full-time band member, Tennis’ new record “Young and Old” seems out to prove the band is better and broader than two people in love on the high seas.

“Took a train to/took a train to get to you,” Moore sings as the very first lines on opening track “It All Feels the Same”. Unintentional though it may be, there is a certain parallel to be drawn between that and the sailboats dominating all of “Cape Dory”. Fear not, friends; “Young and Old” is not a record about train travel or really any form of transportation. The song “Traveling” is sort of the lone exception in that regard. In fact, this new album is in many ways the topical opposite of the last one. “Cape Dory” was all about beautiful locales and a couple in love with the sea and one another. The relationship between Moore and Riley may be as strong as ever, but they’re either no longer writing songs about their own experiences or are trying to expose us to another side of things on the new record. “Paradise is all around, but happiness is never found,” Moore somberly professes on “High Road”. Emotions run high throughout the record, and there’s plenty of turmoil to go around which gives Moore the chance to show off her range on multiple levels. “How much is required to set things right?/Have you confused your power with might?” she emphatically interjects on “Origins”, while on “Take Me to Heaven” she wishes she could believe in an afterlife: “My mistakes, imperfections, they make me long for a place where they can’t overtake me.”

Dark as this album might be lyrically, the songs on “Young and Old” are far catchier and uptempo than you might expect. There were a few outright misses on “Cape Dory” that felt more like padding between the hits, but virtually everything on the new album stands well on its own and could be considered a potential future single. One of the bigger reasons why that’s the case is the sheer muscle and sonic building the band displays this time. The guitars are stronger and are covered in an extra layer of fuzz, the drums are far more forceful and the piano works itself higher into the mix. Patrick Carney deserves some credit for how he pushed the band in the studio, though you’ve got to wonder how many of these new adjustments came about organically through time spent performing on the road. Even a quieter and more somber track like “My Better Self” has a bit of oomph and insistence to it, infused with handclaps for good measure. Moore’s vocals get an upgrade too, with plenty more backing harmonies and “ooh oohs”, or in the case of “Petition”, some very retro “sha la las”. It all contributes towards helping Tennis sound quite a bit like a lighter, poppier version of Beach House, which is by no means a bad thing.

As delightful and forward-moving as “Young and Old” is, it in many ways feels like a stepping stone for Tennis. Their debut album proved they could write at least a few strong pop songs. This new record proves they were more than just a flash in the pan and are invested in career longevity. It features a fair amount of growth for the band, but it lacks true sonic innovation. We’ve heard songs like these before, though arguably never delivered with quite the same scalpel-like precision and overall catchiness that they are here. This trio is talented to be sure, and it’s great to hear them moving past boat stories and unveiling new layers, but they’re not quite where they need to be just yet. They can do better, though getting there might just require taking some serious sonic risks and alienating what’s currently an expanding fan base. If success is all they desire, “Young and Old” is another grand investment towards achieving massive popularity. If it’s genuine respectability they’re aiming for, they’re inching towards that too. For most, a crossroads will emerge where they’ll be forced to choose one or the other. Play your cards right though, and you can have both. Look forward to Tennis’ next record, it’ll probably be the one that either makes or breaks them.

Tennis – Origins

Tennis – My Better Self

Buy “Young and Old” from Amazon

Another year, another of Montreal record. Technically speaking Kevin Barnes puts out a new full length album every two or so years, but there’s usually an EP or a collection of remixes or something that gets releaed in between. For example the last of Montreal album was 2010′s “False Priest”, but in 2011 it was “thecontrollersphere” EP. In total there have been 11 long players released under the of Montreal name since 1997, including this year’s “Paralytic Stalks”. There’s been a steady evolution in the sound of each record too, even if it hasn’t always been for the better. 2008′s “Skeletal Lamping” largely ruined the momentum built up by the critically praised “Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer”, as it was a mess of an unfocused record filled with ADHD-type songs. Just as a song would be reaching its stride and burrowing its way into your memory banks, it’d take a sharp left turn and send you someplace entirely different. More often than not you’d get about 3 separate thoughts spread across a singular 4 minute track, making it a rather difficult listen on the whole. That’s not even mentioning the fact that Barnes invented an alter-ego called Georgie Fruit who was a sex fiend and a disco queen with a falsetto voice. At least “False Priest” was built on the rock solid foundations of wanting to craft an R&B record with funk/psych-pop vibes. Packed with guest stars like Janelle Monae and Solange Knowles, the concept was interesting but the execution was much less so. You can’t really fault the guy for wanting to experiment, but most recently he seems to have reached some creative stumbling blocks.

Now we’re faced with the monumental task that is “Paralytic Stalks”, a record that foregoes any guest stars and alter-egos in favor of a return to some of the more core odd pop elements that earned of Montreal praise in the first place. Kevin Barnes would object to the idea that he’s backpedaling at all, even as he claims that his songwriting style has become far more personal again, akin to what it was on “Hissing Fauna…”. Believe what you will about the guy’s lyrics, but it’s a small challenge to pinpoint a time when he wasn’t being coy and metaphorical about things, his colorful palette of words functioning closer to a locked door than an open window. If anyone wants to explain what the lines, “You speak to me/like the anguish of a child doused in flames” are hinting at on opening track “Gelid Ascent”, it might go a long way towards proving those personal ideas. Still, there are a few moments where Barnes mentions his wife Nina by name, as when he pointedly asks, “Oh Nina, how can I defend myself against the world that batters me like a retarded cartoon” on “Ye, Renew the Plaintiff”. That at least tells you he’s speaking from the heart. Most of the time though we’re left with a puzzle, and a line from “We Will Commit Wolf Murder” probably says it best: “I’ve tried to understand his logic, but there’s just no pattern there/no sympathetic voices anywhere”. As confusing as many of the lyrics can be, their actual themes make solid sense. This is a violent and dark record, filled with thoughts of revenge, emotional breakdowns and infidelity. Not the most pleasant of subjects, but at least these are things that mean something to the man writing about them. If you can relate to his sentiments, so much the better. It should be obvious, but you’re not going to walk away from this record with a smile on your face.

From a purely sonic perspective, you could say that “Paralytic Stalks” is one of the more fascinating of Montreal albums to date. Spanning 9 tracks and a runtime of almost an hour, there’s an easily recognizable divide after the midpoint “Malefic Dowery” where 3-4 minute songs suddenly become 7-8 minute ones before the grand 13 minute finale hits. Ironically that’s also the point where the record starts to go awry, even though most of the nearly 9 minutes of “Ye, Renew the Plaintiff” aren’t bad by any means. The front half of the album is positively delightful on the ears in spite of its lyrical unpleasantness and unfocused tendencies. Single “Dour Percentage” is absolutely the best moment, channeling his most soulful pop side complete with some horns and flutes for accompaniment. What it lacks is a truly dynamic hook. The chorus is good but not quite good enough to stick with you. Almost equally compelling but far less pop-driven is “Malefic Dowery”, which has the distinct honor of being one of the most un-of Montreal songs in of Montreal’s catalogue. It’s beautiful, lush, straightforward and gets by on mostly acoustic guitar, piano and flute – all instruments you don’t really think of when talking about of Montreal. If Barnes had chosen to craft an entire record based around the elements of that song, it might have been exactly what he needed to make that next leap creatively. Instead, the album slowly descends into madness. Key to this collapse is the penultimate track “Exorcismic Breeding Knife”, an atonal psychedelic bad trip that entirely lacks any sort of shape. Its nearly 8 minutes amount to a series of noises, drones and sound effects, all atmospherically akin to a truly bad drug trip. The walls are quickly closing in, the floor is melting, and there’s a clown in the corner with a knife and a menacing look on his face. Those visuals are pretty much the auditory equivalent of what goes on in that track, and thinking about it further, there’s also a remarkable similarity to The Beatles track “Revolution 9″. The equally lengthy “Wintered Debts” and the doubly long closer “Authentic Pyrrhic Remission” both at least have some looser, more pop-driven moments to offset the stranger and more detached moments. That doesn’t make them much easier to sit through, but at least they feel more upbeat and logically constructed.

A careful listen to “Paralytic Stalks” would seem to indicate that Kevin Barnes has very much lost his mind. That may very well be the case, or at least he’s allowed his eccentricities to take control for a bit. Those peculiar flights of fancy are almost certain to alienate a fair amount of the of Montreal fan base currently in place, undoubtedly hoping for something brighter and poppier more akin to the “Satanic Panic in the Attic” era. A few might find it inspiring though, a very forward-thinking take on 20th century orchestral movements. That seems to be what Barnes was going for, the actual success of it dependent at least in part on your own peculiar musical tastes. You’ve got to admire the guy, at least for a moment, for the sheer audacity it took to put together a record like this. Very few artists with of Montreal’s level of popularity would even dream of doing something so obtuse and uncommercial. Barnes’s dignity may be entirely intact, though his mental facilities may not be. Let’s hope this is a phase he’s working through, or a stepping stone towards a record that will define his legacy. It’d be such a shame if it were anything else.

of Montreal – Dour Percentage
of Montreal – Wintered Debts

Buy “Paralytic Stalks” from Polyvinyl Records

The first time I saw and heard Sharon Van Etten was at the 2010 Pitchfork Music Festival, in which she had the “honor” of being the first artist to perform that year. The issue of course is that at 3PM on a Friday afternoon, most attendees were either still at work or simply hadn’t made their way past the front gates yet. In other words, it made for one of the most sparsely attended sets of the weekend. Those that were there in time though were treated to one of the most endearing sets of the 3-day fest and a proper introduction to a major new singer-songwriter talent. Her first proper album “Epic” had not yet been released, and she had no backing band, so the reality of it was one woman playing a bunch of songs nobody had heard before to a crowd of about 100 people. And you know what? You could barely hear a sound other than what was coming out of the speakers. That’s not because they were loud, but because everyone was quiet and attentive and completely taken in by a truly lone wolf performance. In the middle of it, one of the strings on her guitar broke, and she didn’t have a replacement, so Modest Mouse (headlining that night) lent her one of theirs. Effortlessly charming was a good way to describe it, and in some ways that set suggested the birth of a star. “Epic” would go on to critical praise and moderate success, and Van Etten made a whole lot of important friends thanks in no small part to incessant touring.

The National’s Aaron Dessner was one of Sharon Van Etten’s earliest supporters, and was so swayed by the “Epic” track “Love More” that he performed a cover of it at the 2010 MusicNow Festival with Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon. That developed into a friendship and a working collaboration, as Dessner produced Van Etten’s new record “Tramp”. The recording sessions were sporadic over a year, scheduled between touring responsibilities for the both of them. Van Etten also found herself courted by a record label or two, eventually choosing to sign with indie superlabel Jagjaguwar, which is a strong match to her style of music and increased visibility. She chose to title her new album “Tramp” as a comment on the transient lifestyle she’s been leading the last couple years. Touring is one aspect of it, but she’s also not had a permanent residence in awhile, instead bouncing from couch to couch, friend to friend and sublet to sublet when she needs to stay anywhere for longer than a day or two. As she puts it, the decision ultimately came down to either paying rent on an apartment, or keeping her backing band. Things have been better in recent months however, and she’s been able to find a place in Brooklyn to call home even as she prepares to hit the road for another few months of touring in support of the album.

Things are also getting better on record as well, as “Tramp” sees Van Etten truly growing out her voice and overall sound into a much stronger and more collaborative effort overall. For the first time, she truly sounds comfortable in her own skin, as if she just needed the right people around her to get all the pieces perfectly in place. She’s been building towards such a sonic revelation across her previous two releases, and now that she’s finally reached that healthy place seems more determined than ever to make it count for something. Opening track “Warsaw” holds a remarkably dark bounce to it, the main electric guitar chords bearing a surprisingly strong resemblance to some of the more angular approaches used by Nirvana in reworking some of their songs for the “Unplugged” record. Perhaps the song that best echoes Van Etten’s growth is first single “Serpents”, which is a beast of a composition that intertwines multiple guitar parts, militaristic drumming from Matt Barrick of The Walkmen, and full-on overdubbed vocal harmonies. It’s beautiful and sad, but has serious muscle to it, a display of aggression that was only been hinted at up until that point. Not everything on the album is so intricately constructed and energetic though. The balladry of “Kevin’s” comes soberingly close to the sparse solo guitar and vocal of Van Etten’s earlier material, as does the late album drama of “Ask”. Other songs like “All I Can” and “I’m Wrong” take a more subtle approach and build steadily over their duration. The bright energy and use of ukulele on “Leonard” brings a decidedly Beirut-esque feel to the track, and it’s almost a disappointment when a horn section doesn’t emerge to buttress the melody. But speaking of Beirut, Zach Condon does make a guest appearance on the equally ukulele driven “We Are Fine”, a song about overcoming social anxiety. The track’s positive message is that much more engaging and beautiful thanks to Condon’s backing harmonies and solo vocal on a verse. Additional contributions come from Julianna Barwick and Wye Oak’s Jenn Wasner, among others, and each does a superb job whether you notice their presence or not.

At the core of “Tramp” are Van Etten’s lyrics, the topics of which haven’t really changed much since her earliest days. Romance tends to be her favorite vice, and the highs and mostly lows of relationships is something she continues to explore. On “Give Out” she bluntly sings, “You’re the reason why I’ll move to the city/or why I’ll need to leave.” Yet sometimes she takes the blame for a failed relationship herself, as on “Leonard” when she musters up the courage to say, “I am bad at loving you.” One thing you’re almost guaranteed with any Sharon Van Etten record is that she’ll be very frank and up front about her thoughts and emotions. It’s just nice at times to not have to wade through symbols and extraneous wordplay while trying to decipher the songwriter’s true intentions. And Sad though many of the sentiments might be, often made sadder by the heartbreak evident in Van Etten’s voice, this album isn’t about the destruction of relationships. It’s actually about the lessons we learn in the aftermath of those tragic moments. “I want my scars to help and heal,” she confesses on “All I Can”, the implication being that the wounds of past loves will hopefully assist in finding someone new and better. Couple that with a song like “We Are Fine” and the theme becomes moving on and forward. Funny, because Van Etten is not only doing that lyrically but sonically as well, and the combination makes for her finest record to date. She’s come quite a long way from just a couple years ago playing unreleased music all alone on a festival stage. To say she’s earned the success that continues to come her way would be quite an understatement.

Sharon Van Etten – Serpents

Buy “Tramp” from Amazon

The first and great single from the band Hospitality is called “Friends of Friends”, and it’s a peppy and fun pop-rock song about exactly what the title suggests. The vibe of the song is warm and playful, and that’s a great way to describe the band as a whole – listening to their music is the auditory equivalent of a night out with friends. To clarify, their self-titled debut album isn’t some massive party involving drinking and debauchery, which sometimes defines our nights out with friends. No, this is more of a driving or walking around a city, stumbling into shops and goofing off with funny looking hats, and playing around in a park after sunset sort of vibe. There’s an innocence and purity that adds to the good-natured themes as well, even as a few tracks involve the ups and downs of relationships. A good band-to-band comparison would be to call Hospitality the more upbeat, less countrified American version of Camera Obscura, with strong hints of Belle & Sebastian. Considering how lovely both of those bands are, Hospitality appear to be well on their way towards a similar degree of respect.

The journey of Hospitality has been an interesting one thus far. They formed sometime back in the mid-00s, essentially a collection of friends, relative and lovers. Their lineup included sisters Amber and Gia Papini, multi-instrumentalist Nathan Michel, and bassist Brian Betancourt. Gia has since left the band, and Amber married Nathan, so they’re currently a trio. They weren’t in 2008 though, when after playing a show at Cake Shop in their hometown of New York City, they were approached by musician and producer Karl Blau, who was impressed and wanted to work with them. They very cheaply recorded a six-song EP, which was like their new album in that it was self-titled, and chose to self-release it as well. That earned them a decent amount of attention, however they put much of that early hype on hold to work on side projects and deal with some personal issues. They eventually reconvened however, and spent some time in a proper studio early last year recording their first full length effort with Michel and Shane Stoneback (Vampire Weekend, Sleigh Bells) co-producing. After a few months of shopping around, Hospitality eventually signed to Merge Records late last year, hence the early 2012 release date.

Long time fans of Hospitality from their EP days will immediately recognize a couple of older songs making a reappearance. In 2008 that EP was put together using a 4-track recorder inside an apartment in Red Hook. Naturally, the end product came out sounding very lo-fi, and things have been cleaned up significantly since then. Everything on the album has a neat polish to it, as working in a professional recording studio will do that for you. That means tracks like “Betty Wang” and “Argonauts” got the same sonic upgrade too. Structurally, the EP transfers remain very similar to their original versions, the only notable changes come via tempo and tightness. “Betty Wang” strikes far harder and better than it did originally, amping up the energy and emotional investment to really sell us on the story. The same can be said for ballad “Julie”, which feels more expansive and gorgeous than before. The additional clarity on the carried over tracks also shows off more nuanced and layered instrumentation, though it’s most noticeable on the new songs like “Eight Avenue” and the brisk closer “All Day Today”.

Where Hospitality truly shines though is through the contributions of Amber Papini. Her vocals, similarly styled to a Tracyanne Campbell or a Laetitia Sadler, have a unique and compelling tone to them that draws you into a melody without being too overbearing or off-putting. It is a little odd that she has what appears to be an English accent despite having grown up in Kansas City, but little idiosyncrasies like that bring a small dose of extra charm to a record with plenty to spare. In addition to her voice, Papini’s lyrics are quite strong as well. Her storytelling comes off as natural and evocative, and though most of the tales are NYC-based, the twentysomething characters could really be having these experiences in any major city. If you’re of that young professional age and live in an urban environment, these songs should speak remarkably well to your own experiences, the ins and outs of everyday life. To go along with that, not every day is a perfect day, and so not every song is a perfect song on this debut album. Nothing is outright bad, but the album’s midsection can get a little mediocre at times with a couple songs that never quite make an impact. Clocking in at just over 30 minutes though, the so-so songs move by quickly enough that they make very little difference in your overall enjoyment of the record. In fact, you may find yourself wishing there was more of it once it’s over. Hospitality may not be the most innovative or original band in the world, but they definitely prove through their debut album that they know how to write a great pop song. For the majority of artists, that’s half the battle anyways.

Hospitality – Friends of Friends
Hospitality – Betty Wang

Buy “Hospitality” from Amazon

Lana Del Rey is a magnet. People are drawn to her, and to her music, and everyone that hears her or knows about her has an opinion. Four or five months ago, you probably heard far kinder things being said about her compared to today, where the inevitable backlash has reared its ugly head and nearly swallowed her whole. All this before her major label debut album “Born to Die” even sees release. To be fair, the build up and press surrounding Del Rey has been huge – she is signed to a major label and the sky high hopes of executives are that she’ll eventually join the ranks of a Lady Gaga or a Beyonce in the realm of pop superstardom. That’s a very real possibility no matter how much crap she puts out there, so long as it sells. This is coming from the same world in which Ke$ha has a lucrative career despite being one of the more reviled pop stars in recent memory. But what is it about Del Rey that has drawn such ire from people? There’s a laundry list of things, so let’s try and break it down.

Lana Del Rey’s real name is Lizzy Grant. She had a privileged upbringing in New York that eventually resulted in a trip to boarding school and a stint at Fordham University. She dropped out of school to pursue a music career, and built a relatively respectable reputation as a Nancy Sinatra-esque, classically inspired crooner. Doors were opened for her, but not exactly the right ones or the ones she was looking for. As such, she invented her own persona and drastically changed her look to go along with it. Gone was the plain Jane Lizzy Grant, and in her place was the glamorous, full-lipped Lana Del Rey. Under the new name and style she quickly flourished, and though her 2010 debut “A.K.A. Lizzy Grant” went largely unnoticed, last summer she released the single song “Video Games” and the internet grabbed hold of it with a fierce intensity. It was a matter of months before Interscope Records came calling on the wings of yet another new and excellent song, “Blue Jeans”. It seemed that Grant was getting everything she wanted via the transition into Lana Del Rey. But was it too much success, too soon?

Early Del Rey detractors started by citing her fake persona. She couldn’t make it with her real name and real style, so she had to invent a character instead? How disingenuous of her! Not only that, but her character of Lana Del Rey is this pretty, platinum blonde with pinup style that appears to sell her sex. Listen to the lyrics of “Video Games” and “Blue Jeans” as well and you’ll notice she’s singing about needing a big, strong man to keep her safe and warm, and how she’ll stick with him and essentially live to serve him while he goes off and plays video games. She’s playing up antiquated notions of women, that they’re supposed to slave in the kitchen all day, stay home with the kids, and generally accept whatever their husbands want. It’s a far cry from today’s women, fiercely independent and proving they’re equal with men on every level, even as the pay scales still don’t entirely reflect that. So yes, the controversy surrounding Del Rey is understandable. Many have undoubtedly been rooting for her to fail, and their wish is swiftly being Grant-ed. A few weeks ago she turned in a disastrous performance on “Saturday Night Live”, one that sent the internet abuzz yet again, this time with far more jeers than cheers. As NBC News anchor Brian Williams said, it was foolish of the show to put Del Rey on when her album hadn’t been released and her only notable accomplishments were having two songs popular with the online community. Very few people have gotten so far by doing so little. We’ve finally reached the apex though, the moment that will truly make or break Lana Del Rey – the release of her much-anticipated album “Born to Die”.

From start to finish, “Born to Die” feels like a statement. It seeks, as a whole, to try and be the official definition of what and who Lana Del Rey is. The two tracks that made her a rising star, “Video Games” and “Blue Jeans” both show up early on in the record, and right next to one another. They are but the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the grandiosity and melodrama in place here, yet they also provide ample evidence that perhaps she doesn’t have much going for her otherwise. The opening title track signals its arrival with a rush of orchestration and sweeping majesty, quickly paired with a very basic electronic beat that holds steady for the duration. From the very start Del Rey is in a sad emotional state, wandering the streets in her heels, hoping that when she arrives at her man’s house he’ll open the gate and let her in. That theme of neediness and essentially pleading for acceptance extends through much of the album and is also a mirror to real life, in which the pop singer tries everything she can to ingratiate herself to a less than adoring public. Things change in a remarkably interesting way on “Off to the Races”, wherein Del Rey seems to want some street cred. She tells of how her “old man” is an evil gangster, involved in everything from drugs and maybe even murder, but she doesn’t care about that because he holds her hand and loves her with every beat of his “cocaine heart”. He sips Cristal while she swims around topless in the pool for his enjoyment. But she also says that she’s crazy and demands money and gold so she can go to the races and spend money all over town. The coup de gras in all this comes in a few lines in the chorus in which she says, “I need you to come here and save me/I’m your little scarlet starlet singing in the garden/kiss me on my open mouth”. Sure, it’s bad enough just to read it, but the WAY she sings it, in the most innocent, high-pitched baby voice a la Betty Boop, feels like an affront to women everywhere. Yet thinking about it from a different perspective, perhaps it’s just the opposite. A ruthless and tough girlfriend of a gangster one minute and an innocent young girl in need of saving the next, it appears she’s playing the latter role with her man to obtain money and access. Again, we’re dealing with parallels to real life.

Lizzy Grant is playing the role of Lana Del Rey. She must know the stereotypes she’s portraying and is either comfortable with lowering herself to obtain success, or is doing it to be ironic. In a perfect world it’d be the latter, but at the moment it appears to be the former, or at most a little from column A and column B. If she gave a little wink or even a smirk now and then, it’d be easier to say she was faking it to get people talking about gender issues and to work that much harder to change how success is obtained. Instead, everything about her, from her videos to her interviews to her live performances and the songs on “Born to Die”, smacks of overwrought sincerity. Yet it’s difficult to think a person would purposely sell their entire gender short just to earn money and popularity. Maybe Lizzy Grant really does have more in common with Lana Del Rey than one would reasonably think. Maybe she’s not a good person in the least. Or maybe she simply needs an outlet through which she can channel a life and emotional state built upon sadness, allowing the character to live and work through the situations she herself has trouble dealing with. What we’re searching for is clarity. Something to help us truly understand how Lana Del Rey came to be, and where she might go in the future. The record doesn’t provide any answers, or at least appears not to. What you get instead are a mixture of heavy ballads and tracks that take closer cues from hip hop and R&B, each one like the layer of an onion peeling back to try and explain or re-explain this persona Lizzy Grant has created.

After a moderately strong first 5 tracks, which include the aforementioned singles and most likely future singles “Diet Mountain Dew” and “Off to the Races”, “Born to Die” slowly descends into bland and boring ballads that are overlong and similarly styled to what came before them. They reiterate many of the same lyrical points as well, only with less emotion and less compelling melodies. The second half of the record is a chore to listen to in many ways, and the 3 bonus tracks on the deluxe edition only make it worse. Somehow 60 minutes with this thing feels nearly twice as long. Perhaps it’s the lack of briskly paced, faster tempo pop songs that are the main source of the drag. In an alternate universe somewhere there’s a 10 track, 35 minute version of “Born to Die” that is nearly perfect. The reality is we don’t need songs like “Dark Paradise” or “Million Dollar Man” as they feel more like padding than legitimate attempts to write smart or engaging songs. That’s a talent we know Del Rey has, because in spite of all the bitching, “Video Games” still completely devastates with every listen. It’s the high watermark she will continue to try and return to for the rest of her career, however long it may last. And though almost all of “Born to Die” doesn’t live up to the stratospheric expectations that were established for it by months of hype, you have to admire the risks it takes to even make a record like this. For a major label release of course there’s a couple of blatantly commercial elements to it, but between the dominance of 50′s-style melodramatic ballads and the brazen commitment to a purely fictional character, it’s got more of a story to tell and is more sonically adventurous than a whole lot of other big name artists. At least Lizzy Grant is trying something unorthodox, whether it’s for the right reasons or the wrong ones. Will it all work out for her in the end, or will she end up like one of her lesser songs – sad, pathetic and antiquated? That’s for you and your wallet to decide.

Lana Del Rey – Born To Die

Lana Del Rey – Blue Jeans

Lana Del Rey – Video Games

Preorder “Born to Die” from Amazon

Surely you remember the band Chairlift from those countless times you heard their song “Bruises” a couple years ago in an iPod commercial. Don’t remember “Bruises” exactly? Does the line “I tried to do handstands for you” jog your memory? If not, don’t worry yourself too much. The band was in many ways a one-hit wonder, and their 2008 debut album “Does You Inspire You” didn’t really inspire on the whole. Outside of touring, they haven’t really done much the last couple years, though there have been some changes. Band co-founder Aaron Pfenning is gone, choosing to focus exclusively on his other musical project Rewards after his romantic relationship with bandmate Caroline Polachek dissolved. Polachek now only has multi-instrumentalist Patrick Wimberly to back her up, and that’s impacted Charlift’s sound somewhat. Pfenning’s occasional vocal presence has vanished, as has his guitar work, leaving the band’s sophmore album “Something” in a very synth-based 80s pop space. And you know what? The results turn out much better for them.

First thing’s first, Polachek spends much of “Something” in the role of a woman scorned. That is to say breakups are on her mind, and that’s not surprising given she experienced one with her former bandmate Pfenning. You’d be smart to be wary of reading too much into any of the lyrics though, as many of them are clearly fictitious or fantasy-oriented rather than literal. She’s not REALLY trying to kill or seriously maim another person, though we can’t really rule out emotional hatchet jobs. There are a few moments of pure passion and love though, as on “I Belong in Your Arms”, which with its tenderness, brevity and addictive chorus makes for one of the album’s strongest moments. It is the “Bruises” of this album, though not quite as catchy or marketable. Mostly what’s stronger on this record outside of the subject matter is the way it gets dealt with. Polachek backs off on some of the more vexing metaphors from the band’s debut and instead tries something more emotionally direct, to excellent effect. She seems genuinely saddened singing the line, “The look in your eye says you don’t love me anymore” on “Cool As A Fire”. The soaring chorus only provides more aid to her excitement as she sings, “Have we met before/amongst the buzzing of billions/clear like yesterday when you look at me and smiled” on “Met Before”. Also impressive is the chorus to “Guilty As Charged”, which rightly claims, “If I gave you what you’re asking for, you know you wouldn’t want it anymore”. Smart, plainspoken and with hints of humor, it appears Polachek has a much better idea of what she wants to say and how she wants to say it – a sharp difference from the debut in which many of the moments felt forced or uninspired.

Equally intriguing about “Something” outside of the great lyrics are how all the songs are put together. Save for “Met Before” and “Frigid Spring”, there’s very little use of guitar on this record. Synths are the instrument of choice, and that combined with some excessive polish on the production end takes you straight to the 80s. If you were to play this album for someone without telling them anything about it, most would probably guess it was either made in the 80s or is new coming from an artist that was popular in the 80s. Polachek’s voice earns more gravitas on this record versus the last, and she takes those reins and runs with them. She channels everyone from Kate Bush to Laetitia Sadler to Christine McVie and maybe even a touch of Cyndi Lauper at times, and not once does she sound uncomfortable or out of her element. Wimberly is far quieter than Pfenning was behind the microphone, in that his vocal presence is barely felt. His true star turn comes with backing vocals on the occasional track and a pseudo-duet with Polachek on addictive single “Amanaemonesia”. The rest of the time he’s simply that guy crafting the beats or sending a melody soaring just to keep up with Polachek’s strong singing. They are the yin and yang of Chairlift, perfectly complimenting and pushing one another to excel in different ways.

It’s a shame that “Something” is a record that will probably be just as, if not more ignored than its predecessor. Despite the strong collection of healthy and marketable pop songs, it’s unlikely you’ll be hearing much from the band on the radio or in TV commercials. There’s just a slight element of offbeat weirdness to many of these tracks that can turn off more mainstream audiences, to start. While there’s not a massive difference between “Does You Inspire You” and “Something” sonically, that first album at least had several moments that felt rooted in the present, likely caused by more guitars and less synths. Given that The Killers aren’t still rocking their 80s pop-rock sound established on “Hot Fuzz”, it’s relatively safe to say not everything old becomes new again and stays that way. Still, as glo-fi/chillwave continues to survive and mine much of their material from the 80s, so Chairlift can do so in a much bigger and blatant way. Besides, a great pop song is a great pop song, no matter what decade it’s rooted in. This is the record that may not give the band the additional popularity they were hoping for, but it does earn them one crucial piece of success pie – critical acceptance. There’s no sophmore slump for Chairlift, maybe because they were already in a slump with their first album. “Something” is the record where they rise to the occasion, learn from their mistakes, and hit back at the hearts of the coldhearted. They’re alive and well and will run you over in their car to prove it.

Click past the jump to stream the entire album (for a limited time only)!

Buy “Something” from Amazon

Read more…

You know and love Craig Finn through his role as frontman for The Hold Steady. Now, he’ll be taking on a new role: solo artist! Yes, for those of you concerned about the state of The Hold Steady, fear not, for this is just a side project that won’t affect the band – at least not directly. The entire reason Finn has chosen to go it alone was less because the rest of the band wasn’t ready and more because he wanted to explore other sounds. The Hold Steady’s music is often celebratory, bar room rock with a Springsteen-like appeal. You go to a Hold Steady show with the notion that you’ll have a wildly fun time, fist in the air and a beer in your other hand. With his debut solo effort “Clear Heart, Full Eyes”, Finn chooses to step back from the energy and heavy guitars, focusing instead on introspective alt-country ballads and mid-tempo rock. It’s a different side to a relatively one-sided guy, though we’re left questioning exactly how necessary of an exercise it ultimately is.

One thing that’s not in doubt are Finn’s chops as a lyricist. His topics du jour in the past have been religion, failed relationships and good times with friends. On “Clear Heart, Full Eyes” he maintains that same trend, though with the slower and quieter songs the fun bits sort of take a back seat. He’s not without his sense of humor on some occasions however, as evidenced on “New Friend Jesus”, riffing on stigmata with the lines, “People say we suck at sports, but they don’t understand/it’s hard to catch with holes right through your hands.” One of the main changes the lyrics on Finn’s solo effort bring are a real sense of aging and the often depressing aspects that come along with it. Where his Hold Steady characters were mostly dealing with youthful follies and general messing around, the new characters are middle aged and living in a world of regret. On “No Future”, there’s a resigned and given up mentality that ultimately results in the line, “I’m alive, except for the inside”. And the end of the record brings a laser beam-like focus to breakups and winding up single for the rest of your life. When everyone else gets married, has kids and a family, Finn’s character is alone living in a “Rented Room”. He reminisces about a woman he used to love on “Balcony”, expressing frustration in lines like, “Saw you and him out on the balcony/it was the same thing you did with me”. The record closes with “Not Much Left of Us”, about the mutually assured destruction of two people that weren’t right for one another. “The part of us that still remains is rotten and bruised/like the soft spot on a piece of fruit”, he sings somberly and with a sincerity that makes you believe he’s actually lived it, even if he hasn’t.

As much of a bummer as the lyrics on “Clear Heart, Full Eyes” can be, the purposeful and off-the-cuff conversational manner in which they were written maximizes their power. They overwhelm everything else about the album, and that’s a very good thing because not much else really shines here. The lack of upbeat or even uptempo numbers makes the record a bit difficult to get through. It’s 45 minutes of darker, relatively depressing material, with only a wry smirk or a wink here and there. Songs like “New Friend Jesus” and “Honolulu Blues” function as would-be singles, picking up enough mojo or a halfway decent hook to make them some of the more memorable moments on an album that mostly drags along in a blur. Much of the musical backdrop for these songs was composed by friends of Finn in bands like Heartless Bastards, Centro-matic, White Denim and Phosphorescent, and you can sort of hear their varying styles across the songs. Alt-country (complete with slide guitars & violins) permeates songs like “Terrified Eyes”, “Balcony” and “Not Much Left of Us”, while a more rock and blues mentality gets taken on tracks like “Apollo Bay” and “No Future”. In spite of the variations in style, nothing is really that far removed from anything else, and Finn’s vocals and lyrics are the glue holding it all together anyways.

It’s a little difficult to tell exactly who the audience for “Clear Heart, Full Eyes” is supposed to be. Maybe it is middle-aged guys living a life they never intended. In some ways that’s every middle-aged person, as we’ve all had to make certain sacrifices or put our dreams to bed on occasion. The topics discussed here are not unrelatable in the least. But do we really want to dwell on them by listening to this music? Unlike The Hold Steady’s best, this isn’t the sort of record you can throw on at a whim. You need to be in a certain mindset to truly enjoy it or relate to it. Think back to some of the more somber ballads of The Hold Steady. Think of “Citrus” and “First Night” and “Lord, I’m Discouraged” as precursors to this record. If you love those songs and feel like an album’s worth of them if your cup of tea, perhaps “Clear Heart, Full Eyes” will be exactly what you’ve been looking for. It’s nice that Finn was able to take some time off from his main band and craft a record that truly highlights his songwriting ability and emotional maturity, but it also doesn’t necessarily feel like the concept is worth pursuing any further. He’s had his moment to play the adult, now it’s time to dust himself off, leave the pity party and return to the celebration. The kids are waiting by the bar with their glasses raised.

Stream the entire album for a limited time at NPR

Craig Finn – New Friend Jesus

Craig Finn – Honolulu Blues

Preorder “Clear Heart, Full Eyes” from Amazon

Field Music are a very “English” band. Sure, they’re FROM England, but as with so many other bands, that doesn’t automatically dictate what they sound like. It takes a certain style, a certain panache if you will, to make your sound country-distinctive. Beirut tends to do the sound of Eastern Europe justice. Vampire Weekend take on African-inspired pop and are somehow able to get away with it, as Paul Simon did. So with that same sort of trend, Field Music tread heavily in the realms of Britpop and more traditionally stuffy (yet catchy) arrangements. That hasn’t always been the case. 2010′s “Field Music (Measure)” had the band returning from a hiatus to an engaging 20-song double album that displayed a newfound confidence and looser arrangements than ever before. They also took trips down much more guitar-heavy and psychedelic alleys, which worked to their benefit by keeping you guessing over the course of 70+ minutes. Now two years later, the brothers Brewis are back with “Plumb”, a 15-track excursion that finds their confidence still intact but their urge for experimentation and expansion falling by the wayside.

The boys in Field Music probably think that they’re still taking risks and innovating, as listening to “Plumb” that seems to make sense. Orchestral swells, tracks bleeding into one another like one continuous thread, and a few cheeky sound effects are all things they’ve never done before or have done very little of before. Here’s the thing about that though: it’s a new coat of paint on the same wall. Remove those small bits and it’s the same band that made “Tones of Town” in 2007. They’ve even brought quite a bit of piano back into their arrangements after going largely without it on “Field Music (Measure)” due to Andrew Moore’s departure from the band. The band has stated in interviews and press materials they wanted to return to the much more angular and non-traditional songwriting of their first two albums, but with a modified and updated perspective that pulls influence from 20th century film soundtracks. Surprisingly, that’s an accurate description of what they’ve done on “Plumb”, though the film soundtrack references are a little come and go. That is to say from the kick off “Start the Day Right” and bleeding through “It’s OK to Change” and “Sorry Again, Mate” things move smartly, swiftly and with a symphonic bent. Upon the arrival of “A New Town” four tracks in, the band is instantly back in standard mode, ignoring the elements at work in the songs before it. When “From Hide and Seek to Heartache” shows up at track 11, the band suddenly “remembers” what they set out to do for another couple songs. “How Many More Times?” is an effective 40 second a capella experiment while “Ce Soir” would have made for a mournful closing number, though in many respects it sounds unfinished itself. Alas, the record continues for 2 more songs and 6 more minutes, just to get the total running time over the 30 minute mark.

Sometimes you need a couple of pop songs to play through the closing credits, and “(I Keep Thinking About) A New Thing” finally puts “Plumb” to bed. What’s a little ironic is that it’s the record’s first single and one of its best moments. You need to slog through quite a bit of musical nonsense to get there, and you’re left wondering why the entire thing couldn’t have been that good. Not that there aren’t a few Field Music highlights to keep an eye and ear out for. In spite of how it ruins the experimental mojo generated by the tracks before it, “A New Town” is a solid and one of the more engaging Field Music songs in recent memory. The dramatic dynamism of “Guillotine” fares best on this album though, the verses almost hushed with light acoustic guitar picking and subtle bass matched against the explosive and catchy chorus. The obtuse “Is This the Picture?” is framed in excellent fashion too, with the Brewis brothers trading off falsettos amidst some weaving finger picked electric guitars. Beyond those few highlights though, “Plumb” is plum out of luck. It may be admirable the band wants to experiment with traditional song structures, but most of the tracks just fall flat when there isn’t a chorus to latch onto or are just plain unmemorable when there is one. The good news is that the record’s best moments are almost evenly spaced across its 15 tracks, meaning that if you listen straight through it won’t be more than a few minutes before another gem comes along. In a perfect world (or a perfect album) of course, they’d all be gems. It’s easy to speculate that maybe if they had held onto the film soundtrack theme for the full album or if they’d tried a few more stylistic shifts like their last record then all would have turned out better. Alas, there’s no sense in arguing about what could be, only what is. Try as they might, Field Music just don’t quite have it this time around.

Field Music – A New Town

Preorder “Plumb” from Amazon

Cloud Nothings are the sort of band that has been hyped forever but has yet to deliver on the promise of true brilliance. They’ve always been “on the cusp”, without ever fully reaching it. Each of their two previous full lengths has kept them at such a precipice, meaning they’re great enough to be highly regarded but never to the point where their name is on the tip of everyone’s tongues. It is with such continued propulsion that we arrive at the band’s third long player in 3 years, the aptly titled “Attack on Memory”. This time, we’re assured, things are different. Previously, the band has been very much a one-man show, with Dylan Baldi writing and crafting most of the songs on his own, and then having people back him up in the studio and live. In a sense, it was sort of a “hired hands” band. At this point though, Baldi seems to have reached a point where he’s comfortable with the guys he’s working with, and the new record is more of a collaborative effort than ever before. They also chose to bring in legendary producer Steve Albini, which according to some recent interviews with Baldi, may have been a bad decision. The guy apparently treated the recording process as his time to do anything but pay attention to the job at hand. Still, the album is somehow able to retain that Albini sheen (or is it a lack of sheen?), and makes for the most interesting and ultimately divisive Cloud Nothings records to date.

The title of the album, “Attack on Memory”, is supposed to be a challenge to the way you think about Cloud Nothings. If you’re familiar with their previous two albums, “Turning On” and “Cloud Nothings”, then you should be clearly familiar with the band’s lo-fi pop-punk pedigree. It’s been a bouncy and fun ride, even as the sound hones closer to Sum 41 and Blink 182 than it does Fugazi or The Wipers. The new album tries to shake off those comparisons and re-establish the band as something more visceral and hardcore. They almost completely succeed at this, save for a couple moments of relapse. One listen to opening track “No Future/No Past” and you’ll instantly understand the changes and hopefully embrace them with open arms. Baldi sings like a man possessed, and it’ll be amazing if he can perform that umpteen times on tour and still keep his voice intact. It genuinely feels like this was the sound he was aiming for all along. Yet if that doesn’t do much for you, perhaps the nearly 9 minutes of “Wasted Days” will. To my mind, the song stands as the new piece de resistance of Cloud Nothings, a juggernaut that chugs along and actively engages the listener with every waking moment, doing the exact opposite of what its title suggests. Just when you think it’s on the verge of outstaying its welcome, it gets harder, better and faster than ever, falling somewhere in the path between Sonic Youth and Bitch Magnet. Seriously, the band should use the song as a mission statement for future records it’s so impressive and certainly shows off the talents of all the band members beyond just a series of power chords.

Speaking of power chords, fans of the first two Cloud Nothings albums will find that tracks like “Fall In” and “Stay Useless” are much more up their alley, the former moreso than the latter. Both are fun and speedy doses of proto-punk excellence, and are probably the two most easily memorable songs on the entire album. The 3 minute instrumental “Separation” is kind of the gooey center of “Attack on Memory”, and its title too is very apt. With the absence of Baldi’s vocals, the weight of the song rests entirely on the sharp and heavy guitar/drum assault, which is more than effective as a statement of purpose going forwards: separate yourself from what you thought you knew about this band. And though Baldi screams, “No nostalgia!” on “No Sentiment”, the song itself actually carries the drudging feeling that you’ve heard it somewhere before. That’s not to say the song is unoriginal, not by a long shot, but rather evokes the goodness of a Sunny Day Real Estate or even Slint, in glorious fashion. You can practically hear Baldi sneering behind the microphone, and there’s a certain kickass quality to that.

In spite of everything, “Attack on Memory” sort of loses steam in its final two tracks. Both feel like noble efforts to keep the same sort of spirit alive from all that came before it, but they’re a little more emotionally disconnected and drag in spite of their decent tempos. Baldi’s well-written lyrics remain intact, but his voice doesn’t reflect what he’s throwing out there. “It’ll never get old,” he sings on “Our Plans”, ironically sounding like somebody that’s pretty bored. You’d hope that wasn’t the case, particularly as the album is only 8 tracks total, with nothing except for “Wasted Days” crossing the 5-minute mark. In such cases it’d be nice if everything was as explosive as dynamite. Still, there’s so much quality over the duration of this album you’d be wrong to call it a misstep for the band. If anything, this should strengthen their resolve and push them even further in the right direction for the future. Is this finally the record that pushes Cloud Nothings into a new league of hyped bands that finally make good on their promise? It stands to reason that yes, this is finally their time. That said, why am I still thinking they’re still destined for even bigger, even better things?

Cloud Nothings – No Future/No Past
Cloud Nothings – Stay Useless
Cloud Nothings – No Sentiment

Preorder “Attack on Memory” from Amazon

Ah, the dreaded sophomore slump. It is a curse that is inflicted upon many a band, most typically those that are desperate to repeat the success of their debut. If you look at bands like The Strokes and Interpol, both essentially took the blueprint of their first record and followed it to a T with startlingly solid results. Sometimes your sound works well enough to keep it going for a bit without people getting tired of it. Still others fear for their safety, knowing fans want and expect constant innovation and evolution, so there will be a radical sonic shift in a different direction that will either be massively successful or smell of failure. Then you have a band like The Big Pink. Success came rather easy to them, with their 2009 debut album “A Brief History of Love” earning accolades even while a single like “Dominos” was smartly and deceptively stupid. If that record taught them anything, it was that having a huge, easy to remember chorus brings in people from all walks of life in search of something they can sing along to. As such, their follow-up “Future This” sees The Big Pink putting aside some of the more artistic adventures of their first album in the hopes of becoming a stadium-sized pop band. If you were hoping to be beaten over the head with a large musical stick, welcome to your new favorite record.

In crafting “Future This”, the duo of Robbie Furze and Milo Cordell decided to go with a “beats first” approach. That is, they would come up with a beat they liked and would subsequently craft an entire song around it. They started to push forward with the idea that this might very well be a more “hip hop” record than anything else, but the end product certainly doesn’t reflect that, though certainly most of the tracks could be re-worked and remixed with that sort of edge to it. Guitars are hard to come by on this album as well, with the electronic elements and synths handling almost the entirety of the compositional bits. Only “Lose Your Mind” features some heavy riffage courtesy of the only guitar solo on the entire record. The lack of guitars isn’t exactly a bad thing as most everything sounds fine without them, but there are times when you’re left wondering if the blandness of some of the tracks could have benefited from a little extra instrumental spice.

Given that the band is shooting for the stars and appears to be actively seeking greater mainstream acceptance, much of “Future This” is dedicated to songs in the key of “Dominos”. Opening cut “Stay Gold” is perhaps the closest they come to copying that, so much so that you can pretty much insert the chorus fo “Dominos” in as a replacement and barely have a difference. Of course it’s catchy and moderately enjoyable as well, so it’s not all bad. Following that up is “Hit the Ground (Superman)”, which is most notable for its sampling of the relatively obscure avant-garde 1981 song “O Superman” from Laurie Anderson. Repurposed into a power ballad, it makes for a potential hit, though clocking in at nearly 5 minutes long it outstays its welcome by about 90 seconds. There are a few genuinely creative moments on the album, such as “The Palace (So Cool)”, which has a slow build and doesn’t take the easiest available sonic avenue. Furze is also provided with a chance to stretch a little more vocally, which he takes full advantage of to good effect. The mournful album closer “77″ also does very well for itself, cutting away the loose party vibe of the rest of the record for a shot of genuine emotion. There’s piano and strings to accent the slow pulse beat and synths as well, bringing the right air of sentimentality in without being too overbearing. Credit goes to Paul Epworth and his production work for putting the right spin on not only that track, but the entire record, which could very well have come off as overly polished and bombastic.

One of the biggest pluses that “A Brief History of Love” had going for it was in spite of the many huge melodies spread out across that vast plain of an album, it still had some nuance and character to it. You could strap on some headphones and enjoy it nearly as much as you would were it blasting out of huge speakers at a stadium or beach party. That is, in essence, what “Future This” lacks. The Big Pink don’t sound completely whitewashed on their sophmore record, just less interested in personality and charisma this time. They’re seemingly aiming for bigger and better, but only got the first part right. And as well-fitting as this album might be for remixing thanks to the beats that permeate each and every song, it’d be far more helpful if the duo would put a little effort into actually writing some halfway decent lyrics. Coming up with an easily singable hook simply will not satisfy when it comes down to brass tax. Not only that, but even the most mindless moments on “Future This”, the ones clearly intended to bring the band greater popularity, don’t appear to be working their charms thus far. Sure, it’s far too early to write off this band and this record as a failure, but maybe if it is they’ll actually learn from the experience and come back stronger than ever.

The Big Pink – Hit the Ground (Superman) (Forest Swords Remix)

Buy “Future This” from iTunes
Preorder “Future This” from Amazon