Category: album review Page 9 of 22

On 09/29/2011

Twin Sister – Gene Ciampi

Most bands arrive at our doorsteps fully formed. That is to say, lead-in single or not, the first major release from a majority of bands is their debut full length. The material on it is often culled from years worth of early demos, the tracks that got the band noticed in the first place. Most artists live or die based upon how that first record is received. Yet there are a select few that choose to forego releasing a full length right off the bat, instead dipping their toes in the proverbial musical waters by unleashing a smaller EP first. If you’re a band like Voxtrot, you put out two EPs before getting around to a whole album. There was a lesson to be learned from Voxtrot’s example, where they earned loads of hype via by releasing small sets of songs at once, but then fell flat on their faces when it came time to extend that out to something bigger and more traditional (even if the album is a “dying format”). The EP just works much better for some bands. Enter Twin Sister, one of those bands solely defined by the EPs to their name. The first was “Vampires With Dreaming Kids”, unleashed in 2008 right on the verge of the “Twilight” craze. It did earn the band some healthy buzz, but last year’s “Color Your Life” EP served them even better, boosted by the band’s best track to date “All Around and Away We Go”. That last EP also brought them interest from some larger indie labels, and they struck a deal with Domino to release their debut full length “In Heaven”. So does the band come away clean in their transition from EPs to albums? To start, they’re certainly faring better than Voxtrot did.

Technically speaking, Twin Sister were never a lo-fi band, but the audio quality of their EPs was far from perfect. They were most likely working on a shoestring budget both times. With decent financing for “In Heaven”, there’s a notable difference in quality that reflects positively on the band. Such crispness brings out qualities in the music you wouldn’t have caught before, and that’s particularly true when synths are one of your main instruments. Singer Andrea Estella’s vocals get the biggest boost out of it, her high-pitched and lush songbird pipes get pushed to the forefront and take the reins, keeping you invested in every song even when it might not be prudent to do so. The band also learned a thing or two about economy, stepping away from any of the longer 6 and 7 minute space out sessions on the “Color Your Life” EP and instead averaging out around 3-3.5 minutes across the entire album, never making it to the 5 minute mark once. That’s perfectly fine, actually – they use most of the tracks to experiment just a touch while the more manageable track lengths give them greater commercial viability. That they’re able to add a few more quirks to their more traditional bedroom pop sound helps them to stand out just a bit more from their peers, even if not everything they try works. Still, you can hear the influence of a band like Broadcast in the bombastic “Spain”, while “Bad Street” goes almost straight for the 80s electro stylings of Blondie. Sprinkle a little 80s R&B in with the duet “Stop”, a little alternatve universe shoegaze via “Kimmi in a Rice Field” and a touch of Sterolab-ish odd pop courtesy of “Gene Ciampi” and you’ve got a record filled with fascinating curios.

Delightful as it may be to listen to, the one thing that “In Heaven” truly lacks is any sense of consistency. They happily journey from a more spacey dark wave number like opener “Daniel” into the sensuous R&B of “Stop” without blinking an eye or caring how well the two blend together. Truth is, that doesn’t make for a bad combination, nor does much on this record feel markedly out of place, but that’s probably due to the effortless but key vocals from Estella and bandmate Eric Cardona. Also the instruments stay largely the same, often some form of synth-guitar combination with beats that tend to be more programmed than performed. Think of Twin Sister as if they were this really great cover band, running the gamut with a mixture of popular favorites across four decades, every attempt accomplished with the same set of tools. Not everything works out to perfection, but 8 or 9 times out of ten they birth something far more impressive than it has any right to be. What is Twin Sister’s sound then? If you consulted their first two EPs, they were relatively well-defined and cohesive statements pushing a spacey, retro electro-pop aesthetic. “In Heaven” breaks away from that mold save for “Luna’s Theme” and presents a whole lot of other avenues the band might take. Given how well they tackle that spread of ideas, the band is now faced with the challenge of regaining focus on their next effort. Any number of stylistic doors have been opened for them as a result of this record, and which one they’ll choose to step through is anybody’s guess.

Twin Sister – Bad Street

Buy “In Heaven” from Amazon

Album Review: Wilco – The Whole Love [dBpm]

On 09/27/2011

Buy “The Whole Love” from Amazon

Eight albums in sixteen years – that’s the rate at which Wilco has been releasing records since 1995. Like clockwork, you can virtually anticipate a new Wilco record every two years. The consistency in that is impressive, made that much more so when you consider only a pair of those are regarded as lackluster in quality (see “A.M.” and “Sky Blue Sky” for more information). One of the big things that has kept Wilco vital all these years is their dynamic sense of adventure. Evolving out of Uncle Tupelo, the first couple Wilco albums were very much in a similar alt-country vein, something that didn’t do Jeff Tweedy & Co. many favors when comparisons were tossed about. The strongly pop-driven “Summerteeth” was the first sign the band was emerging from that looming shadow, and their true masterpiece “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” confirmed it fully. Wilco has since evolved into one of the biggest bands in the world, to the point where they can create their own music festival and for the first time, their own record label. Yes, after finishing their contract with Nonesuch Records, Wilco is now officially “going it alone”, stretching their one wing and attempting to fly. Their label is called dBpm, and the first Wilco record released on it is the current one, “The Whole Love”. It’s also the third record in a row with the same band members, which is a good thing considering it’s also their strongest and most consistent lineup out of the many they’ve had.

The thing about consistency is that it breeds familiarity and creates patterns as a result. In spite of their brilliance, the last two Wilco albums have played things a bit safe. “Sky Blue Sky” was like a time warp back to Wilco’s earliest days, a subdued alt-country record that was almost the exact opposite of the immensely experimental “A Ghost Is Born” that came before it. Far better was 2009’s “Wilco (The Album)”, which was closer to a greatest hits record than anything else, with a collection of new songs that each sounded like they belonged on a different, older Wilco release. On “The Whole Love”, the band pretty much picks up exactly where they left off, though with a notable uptick in their more experimental side. That’s evident right from the start of the album, with the 7+ minute “Art of Almost”. Not only is it a surefire replacement for the band’s standard epic opener “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart”, it might just be the best Wilco song since then as well. For those worried or disappointed that the band was simply cruising and might not be pushing themselves anymore, here’s a song that would seemingly suggest otherwise. The thing about it is, that off-kilter edge doesn’t last.

First single “I Might” shows up and puts the epic oddities on hold as it bounces around with some fuzzy, lighthearted pop energy. It is in many ways the antithesis of “Art of Almost”, but still fits well within the boundaries of the best of Wilco’s catalogue. It’s the sort of song that the band can do in their sleep, and there seems to be at least one of them on each of their records. That doesn’t make it bad, it just makes it overly familiar. There are a few tracks on “The Whole Love” that once again work from that same template. See “Dawned On Me” and the title track for a pair of strong examples. If you’re looking for some of those classic Tweedy ballads, this album has you covered on that as well. “Black Moon” and “Rising Red Lung” are two somber acoustic numbers that are sobering but inspired and beautiful. Meanwhile “Standing O” features the band at their most brash and rocking, heavy on the upbeat electric guitars and with some strong assistance from buzzy keyboards and handclaps. Nels Cline does some positively raw work on that along with “Born Alone”, among others. He’s by no means underutilized on this record, he just takes the back seat a little more often to let the spotlight shine elsewhere as needed. After all, the way that drummer Glenn Kotche and bassist John Stirratt work with one another as a rhythm section is more than dynamic in its own right.

If you’re looking for something a little more unique from Wilco, “Capitol City” has a quirky 1920s vibe to it, like it deserves to be played at a county fair with a gentleman selling nerve tonic nearby and posters of pinup models everywhere. It’s the bouncy bass line, mellow organ and brushed snare drums that truly sell the track. But like “The Whole Love”‘s auspicious and adventurous beginnings, the record is bookended with the 12-minute closer “One Sunday Morning (Song for Jane Smiley’s Boyfriend)”. With such an extensive length, the song has been given more than its fair share of breathing room and ample reserve to go off on whatever wild experiment the guys might have up their sleeves. What’s surprising is that it doesn’t do that. It remains firmly grounded and consistent – the pace never moves above a light toe-tap, and it’s the ideal sort of soundtrack for a road trip through open pastures. The acoustic guitar and xylophone, when paired with Tweedy’s sublimely relaxed vocal performance lends the song an intimacy and beauty that wraps you up like a warm hug from a close friend. It doesn’t need to take any tangents or try anything fancy to succeed, and in spite of the melody not changing much, there’s not a single dull moment over the course of those 12 minutes. That in itself is a big key to the song’s brilliance – that Wilco is ambitious enough to extend a single track to an absurd length yet remain content with a largely basic melody. Even the best jam bands never seem to achieve that same remarkable grace.

As with every Wilco record, one of the highlights are Tweedy’s lyrics. He’s a poet in his own right, even if we “don’t give a fuck”. There are always some puzzlers in terms of what he writes, yet the wordplay is never anything less than compelling. How one “assassin’s down the avenue” is irrelevant, save that it sounds cool. Tweedy has said himself that a number of his lyrics are developed straight from his own mublings, in which he’ll simply get the sounds out of his mouth and come up with actual words for those sounds later. So when he references “Slim Jim blood” and the Magna Carta in one single breath on “I Might”, we don’t have to worry what he means by that because it legitimately means nothing. But not every song is comprised of silly gibberish that has no context. “Dawned On Me” is about realizing you’re still in love with somebody you’ve already broken up with, “Open Mind” is about trying to convince your partner to broaden his or her horizons, and “One Sunday Morning (Song for Jane Smiley’s Boyfriend)” is close to what the title describes – a confession to the titular author’s boyfriend about having an illicit affair with her. Does a song with a storyline or sensible lyrics make it better than one of the random word collections? In the end, not really – even the songs with no meaning keep it interesting in creating word combinations you’d never think to put together. So long as Tweedy isn’t diving head first into cliches, Wilco’s lyrics will always retain some semblance of brilliance.

Where “The Whole Love” puts Wilco is on the track back to their finest moments. After coasting for the most part on their last two albums, they’re showing a little more willingness to experiment and break from the patterns that have come to define exactly what a “Wilco song” should sound like. To put it a different way, they’re starting to regain the spark that fueled career highlight records like “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” and “A Ghost Is Born” again. While this new album may not go down as Wilco’s best, it can certainly be regarded as falling on the better half of their catalogue. There’s not a single song to dislike on this album, even if it lacks a cohesiveness that the band’s best had. Whether it’s finally reaching a new comfort level or simply being bored with the ground they’ve already traveled, the more these guys can play with our expectations, the better. Feel free to take more chances, fellas. You’ve earned it.

Album Review: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah – Hysterical [Self-Released]

On 09/26/2011

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah – Same Mistake
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah – Maniac

Hop in your imaginary time machine and take a trip back to the year 2005. At the rate our technology is moving, quite a bit has changed in the last 6 years. Music blogs, for one, were still in their relative infancy, a select few becoming tastemakers for so many. Like weeds though, more kept sprouting up every day, wanting their own piece of the pie and trying to earn some legitimacy by breaking new artists on their own. Sometimes it worked, often it did not. One of the few bands to actually gain traction from those early bits of experimentation was Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. A five piece from straight out of Brooklyn, CYHSY were pretty much the ultimate DIY-ers, recording and distributing their own music without any assistance. After passing along a few free mp3s from their self-titled debut album to some influential music blogs, their popularity suddenly exploded, to the point where they couldn’t really handle all the orders that were coming in. To their credit, they never asked for any help once their popularity skyrocketed, and plenty of labels and distributors came calling. In one of the first cases of good hype going bad though, with their second record “Some Loud Thunder” Clap Your Hands Say Yeah chose to throw a little variety into their whimsical and upbeat indie pop sound, incorporating elements of prog-rock, dance rock, and world music into the melting pot and disappointing a lot of fans in the process. There were some good songs on that sophmore effort, just not enough to keep a positive word of mouth going about the band. So initial negative sentiment began to catch on and soon the band that had been lovingly embraced by the forward-thinking indie music community was now left for dead on the side of the road.

After briefly touring in support of their second album, CYHSY vanished for awhile, only playing a random show now and then while reportedly working hard on their third full length. Rumors of a hiatus emerged, particularly as frontman Alec Ounsworth put out a solo record as well as a second, different album as part of a new project called Flashy Python. Both records were released within months of one another in 2009 and were subsequently dismissed in about that same time frame. A couple of the guys also formed a new project called Uninhabitable Mansions with Au Revoir Simone’s Annie Hart – something that started as a band and art project but eventually became a record label. They’ve released records from Pursesnatchers and Radical Dads in the last year. CYHSY guitarist Robbie Guertin plays drums in Radical Dads, and their debut record was produced by CYHSY drummer Sean Greenhalgh. Realigning ourselves to the present day, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah suddenly and dramatically reappeared last May by announcing they’d be releasing their third album, their first in four years, this September. An mp3 for the song “Same Mistake” was unleashed a month later and quickly began to stoke the flames of hype once again for the band, with early comments seeming to suggest the guys had rediscovered the magic that earned them all that praise in the first place. While a great new song or two certainly bodes well for an entire record, the one lesson to be learned from this hype-a-minute world is to avoid making snap judgments until you’ve heard the whole thing. As it turns out, titling the record “Hysterical” was an inspired choice, primarily because it is exactly that, only we’re laughing at the band instead of with them.

Okay, so “Hysterical” is not really a laughably bad record. First single and opening track “Same Mistake” is actually remarkably good, with Ounsworth’s trademark woozy, off-key wail and a chorus bordering on anthemic anchoring the whole thing in place and reminding you just why this band earned so much hype in 2005. Yes, they deserve to continue making music, provided that music remains lightheartedly catchy. Yet it’s notable that in that very first track Ounsworth espouses, “We’ll make the same mistakes”, not trying to but actually implying they may still screw up this second chance. The crux of the band’s problems lies with the unerring sense that they can just work from their 2005 template and achieve similar success. Tastes and trends evolve from year to year, and unless you’re one of the few bands whose sound is only best described as “timeless”, you’re going to need to prove things have changed from record to record. At least “Some Loud Thunder” took some serious (and arguably too many) chances in the hopes of broadening the CYHSY sound established on their debut. As a contrast, “Hysterical” holds steady on the hope that if you liked songs such as “The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth” and “Let the Cool Goddess Rust Away”, you’re going to equally enjoy this new material. The good news is that nothing on the new album sounds like an outright failure. Taken completely on their own, every track has some merits to it and is effectively charming. Put them together though, and you’ll notice a glaring sameness to the whole thing. Whether it’s the 3 minutes of “Maniac” or the 7+ minutes of “Adam’s Plane”, the band operates at a cruising altitude that while nice is also supremely safe. Taken in one massive lump, you’ll likely come away feeling the album was nothing short of a delight, but identifying specific highlights or hooks will suddenly prove exceedingly tough. At least moments like the fuzzed out guitar solo over the last half of “Into Your Alien Arms” and the spacey string section on “In A Motel” stand out specifically because they’re small breaks in the pattern. That doesn’t automatically make them better songs as a result.

What “Hysterical” ultimately ends up being is sad. Many of the songs aren’t upbeat in nature even if they have a spring in their step instrumentally. In addition to that, you wind up feeling just a little sad that a band with so much going for them initially have seemingly become tied up in the notion that they can reclaim their status as an important and meaningful band simply by repeating the formula that made them a success from the start. Even if they’d crafted a mixture of their delightfully catchy self-titled debut and their last album “Some Loud Thunder”, by no means would that have earned them any greater shot at the good graces of the hype-a-minute world we live in today. Bands that pander don’t earn a spot at the exclusive table – it’s the ones that take risks and are able to prove their worth via innovation that get the praise. That’s an extremely tough thing to do, and I for one don’t envy any band trying to make something of themselves these days. The game has changed since 2005, so you either adapt or die. With any luck, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah will find a way to do the former rather than the latter.

Buy “Hysterical” straight from the band

Album Review: St. Vincent – Strange Mercy [4AD]

Buy “Strange Mercy” from Amazon

On 09/23/2011

In album review, BNM, mp3, music

The star of St. Vincent continues to rise. Graduated from the schools of Sufjan Stevens and The Polyphonic Spree, Annie Clark has quickly established herself under that holy moniker as her own force of nature. On her two records so far, she’s crafted delicate and raw songs about people that have it all together on the outside but are on the verge of breaking down on the inside. The title of her last record, “Actor”, was largely an allusion to the roles we play to please others in spite of our own predilections. Of course her debut album, “Marry Me”, was a reference to the cult classic TV show “Arrested Development”, so it’s also quite clear that Ms. Clark is not without a sense of humor. And whether you’ve only heard her on record or seen her live, few can argue that singing and songwriting are only a small part of her immense talents. To put it a different way: she can shred. Big time. Even the songs that sound intense on record take on an entirely new life when performed on stage. They become more jagged, formless and gut-wrenchingly intense. Earlier this year, she blew a lot of people away by covering “Bad Penny/Kerosene” by Steve Albini’s seminal 90s band Big Black. Nearly equal parts punk rager and heavy metal, Clark tackled that storm head-on and came out the other side smelling of roses and adoration. With such heaps of praise consistently lavished upon St. Vincent, it was only a matter of time before enough people caught on and her popularity shot through the roof. Now on the precipice of it all, the phrase “make or break” could well be applied to the third St. Vincent record “Strange Mercy”. Perhaps the most fascinating thing about the record though is in spite of what would otherwise be mounting pressure, Clark appears to ignore everything and everyone by embracing her own pathological whims, no matter how off-putting they might otherwise be.

That’s not to say “Strange Mercy” is all that…strange, though it is far less endearing and easy to digest compared to her previous efforts. In many ways, that’s a good thing – the best artists continue to challenge themselves and evolve, and that typically means kicking normal song structures and simplistic instrumentation to the curb. Case in point, it’s fascinating how much Clark’s fragile upper register at the start of opening cut “Chloe in the Afternoon” resembles Bjork’s. The vocal similarities don’t necessarily hold up beyond those first few lines, but the composition of the track also starts to feel like something Bjork would be proud of. The buzzsaw electric guitar slices through just about everything save for the rhythmic march of the snare drum that very much feels electronica/drum machine-inspired. By the time things wrap up, the song has broken down like a computer gone haywire with a virus. Clark’s vocals drown in a digital bath, obscured to the point where you can’t understand a word but can still make out the melody. Building to a frenzy is nothing new for a St. Vincent song, but there’s something inherently bigger, weirder and darker here than what we’re accustomed to. That carries over to most of the rest of the record.

What we’re essentially seeing on “Strange Mercy” is a more exposed Annie Clark than ever before. Previously, such dark tales were buried beneath the surface revelations. They were the musings of a deeply conflicted person admitting that, like the rest of us, sometimes it’s okay to have fits of rage. You’re almost inhuman if you can’t express such feelings on occasion. The new record strips away the conflict to show human beings much more in touch with their emotions. “Best, finest surgeon, come cut me open,” she sings, quoting Marilyn Monroe on “Surgeon”. The song itself is a bit of a lone wolf on a record such as this, relaxed and more passive in both words and melody. Unlike so many of the other characters on “Strange Mercy”, here is one that is holding everything inside emotionally and resorts to begging somebody else, a proverbial surgeon, to extract those emotions and bring them to the surface. It comes from a place of yearning to belong, and the very finely picked guitar work is handled with scalpel-like precision to go along with it. We’re never really sure if that surgeon finally comes along, but the synth-fueled instrumental breakdown that concludes the song takes things to a rather uncomfortable yet intricate level that isn’t too far removed from the terror many of us experience when we know somebody is about to slice into our skin with a blade.

In addition to her more plainspoken and confrontational mannerisms in the lyrics, Clark allows her guitar to do a lot more “talking” as well. Whereas many of the melodies on “Actor” were buttressed with dynamic orchestral-like arrangements that included violins and cellos and flute, heavy electrics in both guitar and synth form get plenty raw and show off Clark’s skills that much more. The difference in the song “Your Lips Are Red” from the first St. Vincent album on record versus in a live setting have become like night and day, the latter version often escalating to a 7+ minute guitar freak out that’s the auditory equivalent of bloodlust. While a bunch of the songs on “Strange Mercy” could well take on a similar life when performed, many of them already capture such ferocity on record that you wonder what could be added on stage. On the opposite side of that coin, not every track is an intense, guitar-heavy ripper. Variety is the spice of life, which is why the second half of the record goes down in a smoother and slower fashion than the first. That sort of more subdued yet beautiful balance is essential on a record such as this, and it’s handled with grace and aplomb. “Neutered Fruit” sounds like it’s had its balls clipped at first before it grows a pair towards the end, and while a “Champagne Year” is normally cause for celebration, it’s clear from the mellow tone of the track that Clark is in no mood to have a party. Her somber The first third of “Dilettante” holds pretty static, pairing Clark’s sweet vocals with a very simple and slow drum beat so sparse she might as well have done it a capella. Horns and guitars eventually pick up the slack and bring the track to a rousing conclusion. The buzzing guitars return again for one last appearance via the closing track “Year of the Tiger”, which coincidentally is also the only song on the album to have light brushes with an acoustic guitar as well. The record more plods to the finish line rather than dashes across it, but the sentiments of fear and paranoia that permeate the lyrics don’t particularly call for something peppy or lighter.

Perhaps the lone disappointment with a record like “Strange Mercy” comes at the hands of commercial viability. “Cruel” is the first single, but as bouncy and catchy as it may be, it defies traditional song structures. There’s just something about it that lacks the pure magic of a “Actor Out of Work” or “Paris Is Burning”. No matter though, for the sheer charm of it will win enough people over to keep some of the most casual St. Vincent fans interested. Almost equally great single fodder is “Northern Lights”, driven forwards by a great pace and strong guitar parts, but tempered by an only moderately successful hook and an odd squelching synth solo during the bridge to keep you on your toes. Annie Clark seems to like doing that – keeping us on our toes. It’s all about continued evolution, and through three records now she has been able to do whatever it takes to avoid repeating herself while retaining the core ideas and skills that made her such a dynamo in the first place. In the particular case of “Strange Mercy”, it’s wonderful to hear her kick a lot of the prettier elements from “Actor” to the curb in order to focus much more intently on her immense guitar skills and more directly on the real world issues that challenge her cast of characters. And while synths seem to be one of the most popular instruments in indie rock these days, Clark isn’t using them to recreate a specific era of music but instead as a pure supplement to her timeless rock songs. She continues to do things her own way in spite of otherwise mounting pressure to trade it all in for massive commercial success and popularity. They certainly don’t make many rock stars like that anymore.

St. Vincent – Surgeon

Album Review: Wild Flag – Wild Flag [Merge]

On 09/20/2011

Buy “Wild Flag” from Amazon

More times than not, when an artist or band uses the phrase “indefinite hiatus”, it’s a police way of saying that they’re breaking up. Sometimes it really is just a temporary break from making music with the same people, as bands like Broken Social Scene and TV on the Radio have proven more recently. Whether they just want a couple years to decompress or pursue solo/side projects away from the main band, a hiatus is a way to explore those options. For Sleater-Kinney, their indefinite hiatus certainly seemed like it would be brief. Corin Tucker wanted to take some time and really focus on being a new mother, while Carrie Brownstein took to blogging for NPR and doing occasional comedy sketches with her friend and SNL player Fred Armisen. Janet Weiss, not content to sit around on the sidelines, joined up with Stephen Malkmus as part of the Jicks in a move that seemed almost like an afterthought. To put it more bluntly, none of the S-K trio were doing anything they couldn’t give up at a moment’s notice to bring the band back together. In the last year or so though, there’s been something of a sea change. Brownstein got more heavily into acting, both starring in a movie with The Shins/Broken Bells’ James Mercer and taking her team-up with Armisen to a new level via the IFC series “Portlandia”. Meanwhile Tucker apparently spent just enough time raising a family that the music itch struck her again, so instead of going for the reunion, she formed The Corin TUcker Band and crafted a record of alt-country songs. It’s certainly a long way from the brash and fiery punk rock that Sleater-Kinney brought to the table. And with Stephen Malkmus getting Pavement back together for a year of touring and shows, Weiss was seemingly in the wind for that period of time. Well, that small gap quickly vanished when about a year ago Brownstein took to her “Monitor Mix” NPR blog to announce the existence of Wild Flag, a new band with a lineup that included Weiss on drums, along with The Minders’ Rebecca Cole on keyboards and Helium’s Mary Timony on guitar/vocals. It’s now been a year since their formation, and having played a number of shows in that time, the band is now celebrating the release of their self-titled debut album.

It’s easy to pick apart Wild Flag based upon the sum of its parts. That’s really the case with any band that might otherwise be considered a supergroup. Part of you wants to question if this new band lives up to the legacy of the talent behind it. What’s fascinating about Wild Flag is that their debut record appears to be most concerned with the legacy that other groups have left behind. So many bands new and old continue to prime the pump by exploiting a previously established sound from a previous decade by trying to put a fresh spin on it. The Killers had 80s synth pop when they first arrived and created a new wave of new wavers. Bands like Japandroids and Yuck are some of the more forceful acts to bring back some serious 90s nostalgia in the last couple years. Innovative and forward-thinking groups are quickly vanishing as nostalgia grabs hold and comes in waves. Are there any original ideas left out there? That’s a question for another day, because Wild Flag is the antithesis of that. Unlike so many of these bands that make music or become popular simply because a certain type of music is the current flavor of the month, Wild Flag plays it smarter on their debut, something you’d hope would be the case given that all the members are music veterans. Sure, you can hear flashes of that in-your-face punk rock that Sleater-Kinney was best known for on a track like “Boom”, which in this particular case also comes infused with a healthy dose of keyboard. You can almost hear Brownstein sneering behind the microphone at times, which certainly invigorates a couple tracks, particularly the crunchy and intense “Racehorse”. What’s missing as a counterpoint to that is the presence of a wailing, overly dramatic Corin Tucker belting something out to the rafters. Mary Timony’s approach is far more relaxed classic rock than it is punk rock, and it’s what really pushes some genre shifts on the record. With Brownstein and Timony essentially switching off lead vocal duties from track to track, pinning Wild Flag in a particular corner becomes nearly impossible. The energetic and fun post-punk of opening track “Romance” gets quickly tempered by the much more relaxed 60s girl group stylings of Timony’s “Something Came Over Me” before Brownstein exits out the other end with the hard-hitting punk of “Boom”. Technically it’s a miscalculation to disrupt the pace of the record so early on like that, but all three tracks are solid in their own right so that makes it easier to take.

Timony pushes a psychedelic angle into “Glass Tambourine” while also simultaneously channeling a bit of The Breeders vocally, and it winds up being her best contribution on the record. Any time Wild Flag takes some extra time to extend a track beyond 4 minutes it turns into a rewarding experiment in which fascinating musical avenues are explored and all the players prove their worth instrumentally. Janet Weiss in particular stands out with her intense drumming skills, but then again rare is the occasion when Weiss’ talent doesn’t shine as bright or brighter than her peers. She remains one of the best percussion weapons making music today. Of course Rebecca Cole is no slouch either, even if her contributions via keyboard and backing vocals are likely to be the ones that attract the least amount of attention. She’s essential to the Cars-esque new wave vibe of “Endless Talk” and provides a sharp anchor to Timony’s eccentricities on “Electric Band”. If you want to hear the band operating at full power, in which the foursome work best as a cohesive unit but are each given an individual chance to shine, you can’t miss with “Racehorse”. It uses every second of 6.5+ minutes to exploit pure guitar shredding, keyboard jamming, drum fills that overflow, and a vocal performance so visceral that impressive only begins to describe it. For those fleeting moments, you forget entirely the names and the history of the people within this band and just surrender to raw talent. In an ideal world, Wild Flag would give you that same feeling on every song.

The best thing about both Wild Flag the band and “Wild Flag” the album is how purely emotional everything is. The goal is ultimately lack of control – the ability to simply let yourself loose and have some fun. Here is a band that thrives on impulse rather than careful plotting, allowing the wind to dictate the sonic direction they’ll head next with little care if it’s prudent to do so. There’s nothing on the album that’s outright bad, but there are a couple small moments that seem just a touch out of place compared to everything else. Those are the times when the band doesn’t fully gel, primarily derived from trying to bring the two distinct sensibilities of Brownstein and Timony into one singular vision. Assuming this is more than just a one-off effort, those sorts of issues should resolve themselves the more time they spend together as a band. So long as they don’t lose that fresh sense of excitement and wonder, Wild Flag could easily become the sort of band that makes you forget about where they came from and instead hope they continue to show progress and brilliance for years to come.

Wild Flag – Romance

Album Review: Neon Indian – Era Extraña [Mom & Pop/Static Tongues]

On 09/19/2011

Neon Indian – Polish Girl

Of the many chillwave/glo-fi acts to emerge out of that hype cycle a couple years ago, Neon Indian was easily one of the most unique. Sure, the Alan Palomo-fronted project had that distinctive 80s washed out bedroom electronica feel to it, but there haven’t been a lot of artists that incorporate 8-bit video game noises and distorted guitar lines. Throw Palomo’s overly soft-on-the-ears vocals in as well, and Neon Indian’s debut “Psychic Chasms” turned him into a proverbial indie star. Last year he did a one-off single for Green Label Sound called “Sleep Paralysist”, and a couple months back he recorded a psychedelic freak-out EP with The Flaming Lips. Both of those things marked shifts in direction for Palomo and Neon Indian, yet none of those things quite encapsulate what is going on with his second long player, “Era Extraña”. Then again, if you’ve been paying attention to how things are going with other chillwave artists these days, you’re surely aware that like any hype cycle, it’s lifespan is running short. Changes are all but required to survive, and it’s fascinating to hear how the artists within the genre are reacting individually. If you’re Palomo, you go to Finland by yourself and see what sorts of batshit ideas fly out of your head. Rather than putting him in a straightjacket though, “Era Extraña” actually winds up bringing a greater focus to his unique sound.

As it has played out with a number of other chillwave artists, “Era Extraña” boasts a marked step forwards in production style. “Psychic Chasms” was crafted and recorded primarily in Alan Palomo’s bedroom, and you could pretty much tell that from the way it sounded. Now utilizing an actual studio and with actual producer Dave Fridmann, the new album sounds cleaner and bigger than ever before. There are still a handful of woozy, fully retro-fied moments, in particular the 3 instrumental “Heart” interludes, but while the era remains firmly entrenched in the 80s, we’re now dealing in technicolor rather than something paler and more faded. If this were the last record, a track like “Hex Girlfriend” might otherwise have vocals buried in the mix and filled with so much lo-fi reverb that the lyrics border on indecipherable. Now better produced and devoid of any vocal effects, the vocals come across as clear and dominant, a positive when placed among shoegazey guitars and woozy synths. In almost direct opposition to that, the album’s title track features highly polished synths and strongly driven bass, a combo that feels markedly M83/New Order-ish, but then the vocals wind up lowest on the totem pole and oozing with so much reverb that they’re nearly pointless. A huge positive is that the song is paired next to “Halogen (I Could Be A Shadow)”, a track that is a spiritual and sonic cousin but does a far more interesting job blending textures and pulling off the M83 style. In fact, the sequencing on the entirety of “Era Extraña” is rather inspired, as the grungy, guitar-heavy shoegaze numbers “The Blindside Kiss” and “Hex Girlfriend” wind up neighbors, while there’s an almost LCD Soundsystem-like quality to “Future Sick” and “Suns Irrupt” even if neither track ever quite gets to that level of brilliance. Palomo even has “Arcade Blues” tacked onto the very end of the record with the word “single” in parentheses because he wanted to include it as a bonus track even though it didn’t fit in stylistically with the rest of the record. He’s right about that, and it makes for a great little addendum to everything that came before it.

Palomo also shows off his expanding skills as a composer, building more creatively stimulating and intricate melodies than ever before and utilizing an army of sound effects to accent increasingly complex choruses. First single “Polish Girl” experiments a little with verse structure, namely by placing a bit of instrumental space between the chorus and verses that serves as its own hook. It’s not noticeable unless you’re really looking for it though, which is one of the reasons why the song works so well. In other spots, it’s little moments that make you sit up and take notice. The static-filled, bubbling synth open to “Hex Girlfriend” and the twinkling synths that bring the title track to its conclusion are just two of the more soberingly beautiful bits that bring an extra dose of charm to songs that are far more expansive and party-oriented than most of Neon Indian’s earlier stuff. Yet it never wanders from the singular path it appears to be on, streamlined and to the point more than ever before. And while some of the textures and approaches to most of the songs have changed on “Era Extraña”, the lyrical topics stay within the ballpark. Yes, there’s the inevitable topic du jour of relationships, primarily failed ones, that Palomo gets down about from time to time. That comprises much of the first half of the album, while the second half is more about distancing yourself from the world at large primarily through disconnection. “Future Sick” is all about falling behind the times technologically, while “Halogen (I Could Be A Shadow)” is about the need to carve your own path in life or risk being left in the dark. The melodies themselves may be uplifting and danceable, but by no means do all of them project positive messages.

If there’s one thing “Era Extraña” lacks, it’s a more lighthearted approach. It’s a big part of why “Arcade Blues” doesn’t fit within the solid structure of the rest of the record. Not that “Arcade Blues” is a single overjoyed moment on this album – from the title alone you can tell it’s not a happy song. What it does right though is through the smart and liberal use of video game samples, remind us of those afternoons after school or weekends in which we’d go to the arcade with friends and have a blast pumping those machines full of quarters. Palomo may have preferred another method of distraction, but there was a certain satisfaction to be gained from everything as classic as Pac Man to putting the pedal to the floor in a driving game or knowing that your parents didn’t want you playing Mortal Kombat. That he only finds sadness in an arcade while simultaneously exploiting video game sound effects is almost counterintuitive. This, coming from a guy that used to perform in his early pre-Neon Indian days while wearing a Nintendo Powerglove. It’s that uncertainty, that push towards something darker as the music itself sounds lighter than ever, that makes “Era Extraña” weaker than its predecessor. For all the advances Neon Indian has made sonically, verbally and psychologically Palomo has run the other way. He’s retreated into this more pessimistic and serious place but can’t even be bothered to try a little sarcasm on for size. The record is still a success, but not nearly what it could have been had the outlook been a little brighter. With big, fun-sounding music, you want to have the artist reflect that back at you with their words. LCD Soundsystem had their fair share of sadder songs (“All My Friends”, “Someone Great”), but those were often balanced out with silly numbers (“North American Scum”, “Drunk Girls”). Once Alan Palomo is able to find that same dichotomy, Neon Indian will truly hit the big time.

Neon Indian – Hex Girlfriend

Neon Indian – Fallout

Buy “Era Extraña” from Amazon

Album Review: Girls – Father, Son, Holy Ghost [True Panther]

Buy “Father, Son, Holy Ghost” from Amazon

On 09/13/2011

In album review, BNM, mp3, music

We’ve learned so much about the band Girls in the past two years since their debut “Album” was released. The headlines almost always started by noting that frontman Christopher Owens grew up in a cult. The next attention grabber was the extremely NSFW music video for the song “Lust for Life”, featuring persons of various genders and sexual orientations lip syncing to the song while naked. And yes, one guy did use another guy’s penis as a “microphone”. In spite of these apparent distractions, the music itself was the ultimate selling point, a retro-fitted pastiche of 60s and 70s pop that was extremely earnest and often heartbreaking, equal parts familiar and catchy. It’d be easy to level criticism at the band for staying so firmly rooted in the past, but Girls have done great work trying to make the sound their own while also mixing it up just a bit to avoid getting too trapped in a certain style. One moment they’re channeling 3 minutes of Beach Boys pop, and the next they’re on a 7 minute psychedelic journey that’s a closer cousin to Pink Floyd. Somehow they’ve managed to make it all work, with Owens’ nasally voice playing the anchor and even proving that they can progress to bigger and better things with last year’s “Broken Dreams Club” EP. The hope with their new record “Father, Son, Holy Ghost” was to continue that forward march. By all accounts, they very much appear to have succeeded.

The record opens with the galloping “Honey Bunny”, taking a few cues from surf rock in the way the drums roll along and the guitar riffs tumble over one another like waves washing up on the shore. There are moments where it sounds like a team-up between Dick Dale and the Beach Boys, and the best part is it’s nearly as great. Pop culture aficionados should hopefully also associate the song title with the classic film “Pulp Fiction” and may note the sonic similarities to the first track of that movie’s soundtrack, the Dick Dale-riffed “Pumpkin and Honey Bunny/Misirlou”. In the case of Girls though, this is just a delightful pop song with cool origins. As a matter of contrast, “Alex” feels born straight out of the 90s, taking a much more shoegaze-like approach with some fuzz-inflected chords and some noodling electric guitar solos. The band does it without blinking an eye, and for whatever reason it works beautifully. The fuzzy guitars get a hefty burst of energy and a touch of prog rock ethos on “Die”, a track that rages for 3 minutes that are reminiscent of classic Badfinger or Deep Purple. Things get a bit more spaced out and trippy towards the end though, as a gently strummed acoustic guitar and a flute show up for the final two minutes of subdued instrumental that brings an unexpected grace to something that was so sharp at the start.

If you’re looking for the truly psychedelic though, look no further than the middle of “Father, Son, Holy Ghost”. Starting with “My Ma” and progressing through the two epic 6+ minute cuts “Vomit” and “Just A Song”, let’s just say that it would appear the band has been taking crib notes from some of Pink Floyd’s finest moments. The canyon-splitting guitar work and organ ring out very nicely on “My Ma”, though that’s relatively standard compared to what follows it. Everything hits harder and feels even bigger on “Vomit”, with the organ slamming in the chorus and the gospel choir backing up Owens’ intensely mellow vocals. There’s every chance that things could have gone completely overblown in the 6.5 minutes the song goes on for, but it’s Owens that keeps it grounded and within reason by being more Elliott Smith than Roger Waters. A nice solo acoustic guitar instrumental break for the first 90 seconds of “Just A Song” provides a welcome, intimate respite and introduction to the ballad. By the halfway point, Owens is chanting, “Love, love, love/it’s just a song” as violins, flutes and harps are woven between the acoustic guitar and drums. The song itself is gorgeous and drifting, very much akin to what you’d hear on a Spiritualized record.

Waking you up from the proverbial nap the middle of the record provides is “Magic”, a jangly guitar, AM pop number that operates with a certain Elvis Costello-ish aire about it. It feels very specifically placed in that position on the album so as to serve as a buffer between the nearly 7 minutes of “Just A Song” and the 8 minutes that make up “Forgiveness”. You don’t want two ballads of such length (let alone 3 if you count “Vomit”) piled on top of one another. Unlike some of the other massive songs on “Father, Son, Holy Ghost”, “Forgiveness” doesn’t pull any punches or play around with a whole lot of sonic textures. It is first and foremost a relatively sparse acoustic ballad, pushing us to pay close attention to exactly what Owens is singing about, something most succinctly summed up in the song’s title. For the final 2.5 minutes though, Owens takes a vocal break and thrashes out an electric guitar solo that sounds like pure catharsis. Here he is, begging to be forgiven, and that guitar ringing out into the somber melody is like the burden of all his problems being lifted from his shoulders. It is the album’s true highlight, to the point where it makes the final two songs left feel nearly unnecessary additions. Still, the organ and choir on “Love Like A River” makes it very much classically inspired by gospel/soul music, bringing yet another fascinating twist to what’s already a highly engaging record. Things close out with the somber “Jamie Marie”, in which Owens spends almost the entire track on his own, just a gently picked electric guitar and his voice. In the final minute of the song, an organ and the drums break through, but Owens has said his piece already, and they’ve simply shown up to play him off the stage. It’s an underwhelming way to close, but in light of all that came before it, it feels almost fitting.

There’s so much about “Father, Son, Holy Ghost” that you deserve to find out about yourself. Spending time with the lyrics, which are more often than not musings about relationships be they romantic or familial, only enhance the depth and character of the record. There are small, transitional moments too that you’ll uncover and hopefully find delightful the more times you listen to this album. It rewards your time and commitment to it, a quality that only the best of the best seem to have about them. For a band that apes a lot of classic sounds, Girls sure do an awfully great job with them – to the point where you almost think these guys would be huge were they around in the 60s and 70s. Imitating your idols is one thing, but to cut out your own piece of land among them, that’s impressive. Impressive to the point where “Father, Son, Holy Ghost” appears ready to be annointed as one of the finest records of 2011.

Girls – Vomit

Album Review: The Drums – Portamento [Frenchkiss/Moshi Moshi/Island]

On 09/12/2011

Buy “Portamento” from Amazon

It’s been just over a year since The Drums released their self-titled debut album, and for all the touring they did to promote it, for whatever reason the band had enough time on their hands to write and record a follow-up. This in spite of undergoing a lineup change last fall as well. There are a number of potential reasons for a band to crank out another record so quickly. If you’re like Deerhunter’s Bradford Cox or The Fiery Furnaces’ Matthew Friedberger or Guided By Voices’ Robert Pollard, songwriting comes so naturally that it becomes problematic if you aren’t consistently making new music. Other bands and artists will keep creating new music in order to keep the hype cycle going, keeping your name on the tip of everybody’s tongues. Then you’ve got those that did relatively well with their last album, but are being pressured by their label to hurry up and record something new in the hopes of generating more cash while the iron is still hot. Of course some artists have also been operating with a low profile for a lengthy period of time and have built a large catalogue of songs and demos that are just waiting to get that studio polish on them. Where do The Drums fall in amongst these possible options? Well, with their new record “Portamento”, it’s a little tough to say. Based purely on conjecture and the songs on this new album, it would seem that the band probably should have given some more time and consideration when putting together their sophmore record.

What brought The Drums moderate success in the first place was their whistle-happy song “Let’s Go Surfing” off that debut album, a track that was super catchy and embodied the spirit of its title. In fact, “surf rock” is one of the descriptive labels you could affix to the band’s sound, though they go far beyond that. They earned early comparisons to New Order and Joy Division, along with The Cure and The Smiths, essentially amounting to their sound being well within the realm of 80s synth-pop, but again with that sunnier, surf edge to it. The funny part is that in spite of their lighter and brighter pop side, the band is more interested in poking fun at those elements and recent surge in popularity than they are succumbing to their charms. Plus, though the melodies themselves might be charmingly upbeat, close examination of the lyrics reveal a much darker and more depressed side of the band. That’s a big part of where the 80s new wave influence comes in, along with a bunch of bass-dominant songs. There’s a certain script that The Drums followed on their debut that felt wholly unoriginal while still sucking us in and winning us over. Here appeared to be a band on the verge of either making it or breaking it based solely on whether or not they played their cards right.

“Portamento” does very little to change what we’re already familiar with about The Drums. They’re still all about those super catchy 80s-inspired melodies with just a hint of lighthearted surf, but they do throw in a twist or two to project at least some evolution. The songs go a touch darker in mood this time around, whether it’s discussing the absence of an afterlife in “Book of Revelation” and “Searching for Heaven” or emotional unavailability in relationships in “Hard to Love” and “I Don’t Know How to Love”. Yet there’s still a very toe-tapping and easygoing feel to many of the melodies. Instrumentally speaking, the band has broadened their sonic palette just a little, adding in things like vocal looping and a greater reliance on synths which means pulling away from guitars just a touch. Yet it doesn’t work out too well, especially on “Searching for Heaven” where synths and vocals are the only two elements in play. Pinned to start the second half of the record, the track just limps along with little to nothing going for it outside of Johnathan Pierce’s vocals, which come across as oddly off-key and disaffected. It becomes one of the album’s standout moments for all the wrong reasons. While nothing else ever gets quite so poor in quality, “Portamento” is absolutely front-loaded with all the best moments. Either that, or after the first half the second half starts to sound like virtually the same songs over and over again. The tempo stays relatively quick and the choruses keep pushing hook after hook like they’re going out of style, but they’re rendered as blunt and moderately ineffective on tracks like “If He Likes It Let Him Do It” and “In the Cold”.

The good news is that The Drums still have at least a handful of super addictive songs on “Portamento” to keep us on the leash for a little while longer. “Days” is by no means their most creative effort, but it’s tough to not find yourself humming it to yourself a few hours after hearing it. There’s a saxophone that pops up on “What You Were” that is a nice little treat when paired with the brisk pace and dreamy atmosphere. First single “Money” is super fun and super danceable, even if the chorus strikes far too many times over 4 minutes that it begins to feel uncomfortable. Amidst the lowlights the second half of the record brings, “I Need A Doctor” is either a good song or feels a lot like one because it’s sandwiched between two bad ones. “How It Ended” closes the record on a strong note though, practically rediscovering the energy and playfulness of the first half of the album and leaving you wondering why the entire record couldn’t have maintained that same quality.

In a nutshell, if you liked the first Drums record, you’ll likely feel the same way about the second. There are no tracks on “Portamento” that are as strong as “Let’s Go Surfing” was, but there are still plenty of successes on it in spite of that. Even then, it’s easy to call this new record a disappointment, largely because the band appears entirely reliant on big choruses and brisk tempos to get by. They seem to figure that the more times you hear a hook, the greater chance it has of getting stuck in your head. As the old saying goes though, quantity does not always equal quality. Even when you are faced with a quality chorus that doesn’t necessarily mean the more times you hear it the better. If you were to eat your absolutely favorite meal every single day, eventually you’d grow tired of it and desire a little more variety. The small sonic experiments with synths and looping and horns don’t nearly provide the sort of variety you might hope for. None of the songs on this album make it past the 4.5 minute mark, but with how quickly they bounce from verse to chorus to verse, there are times where you just want to check and see how much time is left because it starts to feel like it’s been going on forever. The same can be said about the entire record, which may only be 45 minutes but feels closer to 60. Time flies when you’re having fun, and it moves like a snail when you’re not. The Drums may have approached “Portamento” with good intentions and the hope of sustainability/increased popularity, but the reality of the situation is that they’re trying too hard. Perhaps if they ease back on that throttle just a little, take their time and write more carefully layered melodies, success will find them instead of the opposite.

The Drums – Money

Album Review: The Rapture – In the Grace of Your Love [DFA]

On 09/08/2011

Buy “In the Grace of Your Love” from Amazon

Hallelujah! The Rapture are back. It’s been a minute since we last heard from them, most notably 5 years ago with the release of their second album “Pieces of the People We Love”. Where have they been since then? Well, as some bands do, there was an upheaval and personnel change that went down, complete with the personal lives of a band member or two taking a hit as well. First it was frontman Luke Jenner that quit tha band, and he had a number of things going on in his life, from reaffirming his spirituality to the birth of his son to the tragedy that saw his mother pass away. Eventually he would return though, and bassist/co-frontman Mattie Safer would quit the band. The reasons and the politics are less important than the band choosing to carry on. Now functioning as a three piece, the boys took their time in recording their third full length. The biggest hurdle facing them was how to continue evolving their sound from the original dance punk mold that has now become old hat. It was wearing super thin on their last album, and it’s even thinner now. Yet dance music itself keeps developing new and interesting quirks, even if The Rapture aren’t ones to try out a certain sound just because it’s popular. A song like “House of Jealous Lovers” was a huge hit when it came out precisely because it was unlike anything else out there at the time. So largely keeping the grooves but tweaking them further away from guitar-based shimmy, “In the Grace of Your Love” marks the band’s return to the big leagues. Back at home on their original record label DFA, the hope is to recapture the hearts and minds of the disaffected dancefloor junkies.

If you’ve heard the first single off “In the Grace of Your Love”, then you know The Rapture have proven they can still write a hit song. “How Deep Is Your Love” plays out like a 6.5 minute manifesto upon which the band rebuilds their church. Guitars are nowhere to be found in the early going, instead the song settles into a strong groove thanks to some briskly paced beats and piano, which together have roots in House music. Halfway through, there’s a breakdown to handclaps and vocals before a frenetic saxophone shifts the song into third gear and carries it home the best way it knows how. That single song is better than anything that appeared on “Pieces of the People We Love”, and while it’s not ahead of its time, by no means is it behind either. What’d be wonderful is to say that the rest of the record is as good as that single song. Unfortunately that’s not the case, but it’s certainly not without a lack of trying.

Every song on “In the Grace of Your Love” has some sort of groove to it, and essentially you can throw a full-on dance party with just this album, but not in the way you might expect. The Rapture can’t seem to resist a strong beat, but what they do with that beat keeps everyone on their toes. Rather than playing to what they know full well are their strengths, they use the majority of the new album to mess around with varied textures and instruments for the sake of both mixing it up and proving they’re more than just a flash in the pan. They’re smart to avoid guitar-propelled melodies, instead choosing to place emphasis on the much more current trend of synths. That’s evident straight from the beginning of the record with the hard-charging “Sail Away”. For the energy it tries to bring, there’s not quite enough variation in the melody to hold your interest, but Jenner’s strong vocal performance makes it worthwhile. Also, a weird, psychedelic keyboard breakdown in the final 90 seconds of the song is unexpected and challenging and a step in the right direction. A more guitar-based melody shows up on “Blue Bird”, but it’s not the frenetic strumming that dance punk typically propogates. The drums do all the heavy lifting, while Jenner adopts a falsetto that is more annoying and strained than it is charming. Crafting a dance track out of a few accordion notes and finger snaps is unconventional in itself, and “Come Back to Me” spends its first half doing just that. The mid-track breakdown into something much more sparse and synth-based seems inspired until it never builds to anything and simply peters out. One of the greatest sins on this album comes courtesy of the title track, a song that not only goes nowhere, but has the gall to be so lyrically threadbare that it’s almost a joke. After Jenner repeats the word “heaven” a bunch of times near the middle of the song’s 5.5 minute duration, he resorts to a non-verbal sing-along with the melody via “la la’s” and “whoa’s”.

The second half of the record fares a bit better. The disco funk-meets-horn-section of “Never Die Again” at least has some creative instrumental mojo going for it. Meanwhile both “Roller Coaster” and “Can You Find A Way?” feel Talking Heads inspired, but in completely different ways. Jenner tries to embody David Byrne with his vocal performance on the marked slowness of the former, while the band gets all hopped up and electro-funky on the latter. To close out “In the Grace of Your Love”, the slow jam “It Takes Time to Be A Man” appears to try and hug it out in the style of “Lean On Me”. You just want to find a friend, throw your arm over his or her shoulder, and sway back and forth. There’s a positive message to the song too, and it’d be a lot more effective were the melody not so schmaltzy. Jenner’s voice is not a good fit for a track with this sort of emotional heft and tempo. The song may be trying to leave you feeling good, but it feels closer to an ill-fitting betrayal. Looking at this record purely from a lyrics perspective though, there’s plenty more to find out of place. Given that they’ve always been a dance rock band and that dance music in general doesn’t need anything close to intelligent lyrics to work, The Rapture have never been known for coming up with brilliant wordplay. Considering their variations in style and some of the sonic experiments/risks they take here though, they’ve stepped away from their direct line to the dance floor just a bit and it makes those lyrical shortcomings that much more obvious.

For those blissful few minutes that were “How Deep Is Your Love”, it was easy to say that The Rapture had risen from the dead and returned to take the believers with them into the next realm while everyone else was left behind. The thing is, the band seems to be the ones that were left behind, and they’re now trying to play catch up. They spend much of “In the Grace of Your Love” playing around with variations on different musical styles, virtually all of them worth their salt when tested in the clubs. Yet there always seems to be one flaw or another that makes itself known on an otherwise lovely track. Plus, the shuffling around in song types makes the band seem a little indecisive and uncomfortable. They’re clearly aware that dance punk is not going to work for them anymore, but they’re not exactly sure what will. Once they find that new niche, whether it’s exploiting something fresh and popular or just sticking to a tried and true formula that has been working for bands for decades, they’ll likely be better off. Losing Mattie Safer probably didn’t help much either. If we learned one thing from this new album, it’s that The Rapture are much more versatile than originally thought. Hopefully next time they can use that to an advantage.

Click past the jump to stream the entire record (limited time only).

Album Review: Balam Acab – Wander/Wonder [Tri Angle]

On 09/06/2011

Buy “Wander/Wonder” from Amazon

How often do you take the time to appreciate nature? So many people, particularly those living in a major metropolitan area, simply don’t get the scenery of a placid lake or an open, verdant field on a regular basis. We see pavement and skyscrapers with people and vehicles everywhere. Take a long enough road trip and you’re bound to run into some lovely looking countryside along the way. Sometimes it’s nice to just stop for a minute and get a reminder of all this world has to offer beyond our jobs and friends and family. There’s great beauty in that wild, untamed landscape, and not only can that be mentally calming, but you might learn a thing or two as well. They have stores devoted to all of that nature stuff, from mini Zen gardens and dreamcatchers to rain sticks and white noise machines. Falling asleep to the sounds of the rainforest or the ocean can be soothing and provide a certain comfort to those that want it. Enter Balam Acab, otherwise known as 20-year-old Alec Koone, and his debut album “Wander/Wonder”. From its cover to the music contained within, nature, specifically water, is a theme that so dominates this record that it’s almost tough to call this music.

Of course with eight individual tracks, each with a distinctive melody along with vocals, “Wander/Wonder” is absolutely music, no matter how minimal the arrangements might be. Balam Acab has been slapped with the “witch house” label, a genre exercise that pushes darkness and electronic textures, along with slow tempos and modulated vocals. While the record pretty much falls within said genre, it fails to evoke the the dread and overall seediness required to satisfy the “witch” half. As it stands, you might as well say that Koone has crafted a record that is truly unique, one that in all its intimacy and exploration of silence pretty much qualifies to be in a genre all its own. With the distinctive water theme in tow, it’s rather easy to say that the album flows exceptionally well. You can hear the presence of water on every track, whether it’s lightly splashing, dripping or waves crashing onto the shore. The melodies are built around these environmental noises, so much so that the addition of some synths, electronic textures or beats comes across as largely organic. The vocals are completely undecipherable for the most part, either because they’re so buried beneath the melodies or have been messed with to the point where they sound completely alien. Opening track “Welcome” brings an operatic, almost Sigur Ros-like feel to the vocals, while something like “Apart” uses chipmunk voice as a companion to the R&B-like texture. You can nearly make out what’s being sung by a female voice on “Expect”, but the echo effect is so heavy it becomes tough to make sense of anything. That appears to be the point though, as we’re not listening to Balam Acab for brilliant lyrics but instead quietly invigorating sonic vignettes that trigger emotional responses.

Ultimately the worth of “Wander/Wonder” is almost entirely dependent on how easily you digest music that prizes serenity and beauty over traditional pop structures. This is not the sort of album you turn on in your car and enjoy on a road trip. This will likely scare off a room full of partying friends if you let it. If the sun is brightly in the sky and you’re ready to attack the day with your boundless energy, this album might dial that down a notch. Something like this is best enjoyed as a fully immersive experience. You don’t need to be high on drugs to have a transcendent moment with it, but it undoubtedly helps matters along. Just find a comfortable spot where you live, be it your bed or the couch or even the floor, strap on some headphones, and close your eyes. It’s worth warning that with the subdued nature of the album and the calming water theme, falling asleep while listening to “Wander/Wonder” is very easy to do. That can be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on how you look at it. Insomniacs might find it a useful tool at bedtime, while others might struggle to make it through the entire thing without succumbing to its soothing charms. Whether you make it through three minutes or all 36, this glorious album is more than worth the time you give to it. It also establishes Koone as a fascinating new talent to keep an eye on for the near future.

Balam Acab – Oh, Why

Album Review: Male Bonding – Endless Now [Sub Pop]

On 09/01/2011

Male Bonding – Bones
Male Bonding – Tame the Sun

At this point, I’m pretty sure the lo-fi “revival” is dead. It introduced us to a whole new host of bands a couple years back, everyone from Vivian Girls and Dum Dum Girls to Wavves and Times New Viking, and then naturally segued into the “glo-fi” electronica movement. Now even glo-fi is essentially done too, as we wait for the next big sound to strike. The one lesson learned from all these trends is that some bands get left in the dust when the hype cycle changes, while others adapt and remain within the realm of relevancy. To put it another way, the good bands are smart enough to survive. For most, the recipe for continued success is simple: add fidelity. Glo-fi bands like Washed Out and Toro y Moi have upgraded to a much cleaner sound and their latest records have improved on what was already there. The same can be said for lo-fi groups like the Smith Westerns and The Pains of Being Pure at Heart. It is from this mold that Male Bonding have taken their cue with their sophmore effort “Endless Now”. Their debut “Nothing Hurts” was ear-catching lo-fi punk rock, but now thanks to some sonic upgrades, the Brits are operating on a far cleaner level, to the point where their sound is best described as pop-punk.

By saying that “Endless Now” is a pop-punk record, a certain stigma almost automatically becomes attached to it. The most popular pop-punk bands of the last several years may enter your mind, everyone from All American Rejects to Blink 182 and Fall Out Boy fall underneath that umbrella. It’s worth noting that you could also call bands like The Jam and Teenage Fanclub pop-punk as well, even if there’s a clear difference between what they’re doing and what other more popular bands of the genre are doing. The point is, Male Bonding wind up on the smarter, more indie side of this genre fence, and it’s not simply because they haven’t had a worldwide hit single (yet). The basic parts – quick and loud electric guitars blasting out power chords mixed with supremely catchy hooks – remain the same, but the difference lies in approach. The guys in Male Bonding are no doubt a lot of fun, but their music isn’t always on the brightest of topics. The murky, spatial cover of “Endless Now” most definitely suggests something far less than upbeat is contained within, and it’s not lying in the least. The last album “Nothing Hurts” was ultimately about being beaten to a pulp both emotionally and physically but ultimately coming out the other side a hardened shell of a person – surviving but still wrecked. This new record continues a similar form of torture, only this time you can understand the lyrics better and the melodies are occasionally exploiting more bouncy, fun energy rather than merely grinding guitars.

The most fascinating artifact on this album has to be first single “Bones”, which in full album form is nearly twice as long as any other track on the record. For 6.5 minutes you’re buried beneath chord after chord, like waves crashing down on top of you in rapid succession. Considering the in-and-out 3 minutes much of the rest of the album appears to push, this is the one moment where you can clearly hear the band attempting something extreme and largely making it work. Similar things can be said about “The Saddle”, the shortest track on the album, save for the last 30 second “Untitled” epilogue. After spending so much of the record bouncing from chord to chord and barely taking a moment to breathe, “The Saddle” goes softer, quieter and acoustic. There’s even a small bit of piano in there to bring some added warmth to the song. Outside of those clear standout moments, there’s not a whole lot else that blatantly draws attention to itself. That doesn’t mean it’s plain or bad, it’s just far more direct and cohesive in approach. You can get “Tame the Sun” trapped in your head for a week and then on your 10th listen through “Channeling Your Fears” will be the new track du jour. That’s a big part of what makes this band and this genre of music quite a bit of fun to listen to when done properly.

If “Endless Now” is lacking in anything, it’s probably surprises. On “Nothing Hurts”, there were tempo and stylistic shifts that were partly unrest from the band but they were also unexpected. There was a certain thrill not knowing exactly what angle they were going to take on the very next track. This new streamlined approach doesn’t leave room for such messing about, so that tension gets diffused. But on the big plus side, the much sharper sound brings with it that shiny pop edge that was all too often buried beneath layers of poor quality equipment. Producer John Agnello does a fantastic job ensuring that Male Bonding sound better overall, but never reach that squeaky clean point where it becomes a betrayal of their intentions. “Endless Now” has the distinct disadvantage of arriving with pre-formed expectations and anticipation thanks to how incredible “Nothing Hurts” really was. In fact, some of the more die-hard fans of the band may be disappointed that the guys have shaved off their musical beards and thrown on some business suits. What Male Bonding lose in early devotees as a result of this album they’ll likely make up at least twofold courtesy of their easier accessibility. It’s not selling out, it’s the rare art of fighting to remain relevant.

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Album Review: Red Hot Chili Peppers – I’m With You [Warner Bros]

On 08/30/2011

Buy “I’m With You” from Amazon

Let’s start this by chronicling the trials and tribulations of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. After truly hitting the big time with 1991’s “Blood Sugar Sex Magik”, the band descended into a world of drug use and abuse that eventually gave way to guitarist John Frusciante quitting the band primarily because they were “becoming too popular”. That was partly codespeak for saying he had a pretty crippling drug addiction, which by the way (pun) only got worse after he quit the band and fell into a deep depression. The rest of the boys soldiered on, in spite of their various addictions as well, and Dave Navarro was brought in to replace Frusciante. The Chili Peppers put out “One Hot Minute” in 1995, and it is widely perceived to be the worst RHCP album to date. Navarro struggled to fit into the band’s tightly established dynamic and quit after developing a drug problem of his own. At that point, the Chili Peppers hit an impasse. They were prepared to break up, but that things might be okay again if they brought Frusciante back. After cleaning up their drug habits a bit themselves, they found Frusciante freshly out of rehab and in bad shape both physically and financially. Rejoining the band was a lot like therapy for him, and the resulting record “Californication” sent the band back to the top of the charts bigger and better than ever before. Its follow-up “By the Way” did almost just as well, the boys energized by their renewed success.

Cracks in the facade began to appear once again via the choice to release their 2006 record “Stadium Arcadium” as a double album. Double disc affairs wind up being mistakes for 95% of bands that try it, and the Chili Peppers were no exception. If you whittled down the 28 tracks to just 14, it would have made for a great record. Instead, those great 14 tracks were parsed out across 2 discs and a whole bunch of not so great material, lessening the overall impact of that album. Still, on the strength of singles like “Dani California” and “Snow (Hey Oh)”, they sold more records than anyone else that year. Considering the band had been going pretty much nonstop since “Californication”, it was decided after touring in support of “Stadium Arcadium” that they would take an extended hiatus. Upon reconvening in October of 2009, they did so without Frusciante, who cited differences in musical direction as his reason for leaving. Touring guitarist Josh Klinghoffer stepped in for Frusciante, and RHCP took over a year to write and record their new album “I’m With You”, just to make sure they were satisfied with it. They were smart to take their time considering how their last Frusciante-less record turned out.

Those that wonder exactly why John Frusciante is such a key member of the Red Hot Chili Peppers clearly haven’t spent much time with the band. Frontman Anthony Kiedis is probably the third (maybe even fourth) strongest member of the band, or at least he was until Frusciante left. The way Frusciante’s guitar work soared and powered so many songs on so many RHCP records, it’s a wonder more attention and success hasn’t come his way via his solo work. Bassist Flea is the other key Chili Pepper, one of, if not the best bassist working in music today. When you lose one of your key members, there are several ways you can try to compensate for that person’s presence. One is to find a nearly equally talented replacement, but the bigger the talent the harder that void is to fill. Josh Klinghoffer is no John Frusciante. Not by a long shot. Listening to “I’m With You”, you get the impression that he’s hoping to fill the role of utility player rather than aggressive superstar. His guitar work accents most of the songs, blending into the background instead of surging out in front of the pack and pushing arrangements to new heights. If you’ve heard first single “The Adventures of Rain Dance Maggie”, that’s about as up-front as Klinghoffer gets, and one wonders what Frusciante would have done with the same song. Ironically, the one song Klinghoffer truly proves his worth on is “Goodbye Hooray”, but you likely won’t notice his blistering solos because he’s overshadowed by intense work from Flea and drummer Chad Smith. Maybe that dynamic will change over time as he becomes more comfortable with his new role in the band.
But the RHCP approach to losing Frusciante appears to rely more heavily on the assets that they do have, which basically means Flea has that much more weight shoved upon his shoulders. Take a close listen to the band dynamic on “Annie Wants A Baby” to get a great idea of just how Flea has taken control of this band and has done a great job teaming up with Chad Smith to drive this record forward. In fact, both Flea and Smith haven’t sounded this vibrant and strong in awhile, practically having taken a back seat to Frusciante the last 10 years. Fully uncaged now, they rise to the occasion. Opening cut “Monarchy of Roses” would easily have fallen flat on its face were those two not behind the helm. The same could be said for “Look Around”. Sometimes even their exceptional work on a song can’t save it from succumbing to a host of bad ideas though. Moments like not-so-hot attempt to be funky on “Ethiopia” and the odd emergence of horns on “Did I Let You Know” cause the band to stumble and fall a couple times. On “Meet Me at the Corner”, what’s sad is how bland and unexpressive the entire band sounds, almost like they’re on autopilot. Tucked away as the second-to-last track on the album, that is the sort of place you hide your filler anyways. It’s just a pity that the word “filler” can be used to describe songs on this or any album for that matter.

For long time Red Hot Chili Peppers fans, the good news is that “I’m With You” is not nearly the mess of a record you might expect given the loss of key member John Frusciante. Josh Klinghoffer may not be the best or strongest replacement they could have gotten, but it’s clear the guy is trying extremely hard and as a close friend of Frusciante’s wants to do his legacy justice. Really it’s Flea and Chad Smith that tower over everyone else on this record, and Anthony Kiedis is no exception. His lyrics on this record show continual improvement over some of the earliest RHCP material, but he remains one of the weaker elements in this band. We’ve been exposed to many sides of his personality over the life of this band, from the early, halting approach from the hip hop and funk days through the smoother and more tuneful side pushed in more recent years. On “I’m With YOu” he sounds a bit bored and unengaged with the melodies he’s given. Moments like “Even You Brutus?” and “Dance, Dance, Dance” are reduced in power and scope because Kiedis doesn’t quite deliver vocally. On the poignant “Brendan’s Death Song” or “Police Station” though, he shows that he can still belt one out to the rafters when needed. So that’s hit or miss, as are a couple of the ballads that populate the second half of the record. The addition of piano is a nice touch in a few cases, but eventually the record becomes somewhat bogged down in slower bits that make you long for something with a little more pep – particularly as the run time moves ever closer to 60 minutes. 10 albums and nearly 30 years in, the Red Hot Chili Peppers are starting to show their age. Still, with or without John Frusciante, there’s plenty of evidence on this record to suggest they could and should keep going for awhile yet. The quality hasn’t nearly dipped past the point of no return. Like a cat, the Red Hot Chili Peppers seem to have nine lives. Let’s keep hoping they use their last ones wisely.

Album Review: Beirut – The Rip Tide [Pompeii]

On 08/29/2011

Buy “The Rip Tide” from Amazon

It seems like Beirut has been around forever. The truth of course is that the fresh-faced Zach Condon only first caught our attention with his first full length “Gulag Orkestar” a mere 5 years ago. His progress since then has been relatively remarkable, cranking out sophmore effort “The Flying Club Cup”, the “Lon Gisland” and “Elephant Gun” EPs in ’07 and the “March of the Zapotec/Holland” EPs in ’09. It may have been four years since his last full length, but that stream of EPs and other random bits have kept Beirut on the tips of our tongues for that gap anyways. Throw in the band’s very Old World/Eastern European sound, and it makes a little more sense as to why these last 5 years have seemed like much longer. The reason why there’s been a bit of a gap between Beirut full lengths likely has to do with Condon’s desire to retain full control over his music. He spent last winter recording new album “The Rip Tide” while simultaneously creating his own record label, Pompeii Records. Now a fully functioning, fully independent machine, the band is prepared for the next chapter of their musical journey.

One of the more notable things about the “March of the Zapotec/Holland” double EP was that it was split between two different Zach Condon projects. Beirut was responsible for the “March of the Zapotec” first half, while Condon’s old solo project Realpeople was credited for the “Holland” half. The difference between the two was not only broken down to full band vs. solo, but sonically the Realpeople material was confined to keyboards, synths and other electronic textures rather than the ukuleles, horns and piano Beirut was known for. Given the way that musical trends are headed these days, with glo-fi, synth-pop and electronica becoming more and more popular, you might think Condon would adapt a bit and incorporate some of those Realpeople textures into his much more traditional and ancient sound. That turns out to not be the case on “The Rip Tide”, the focus instead being on scaling back Beirut’s increasingly dense collection of instruments down to just a few key elements. Just because there’s less variety in terms of instruments being played doesn’t mean the arrangements are any less complicated though. There’s not much on the album that’s outright difficult or so obtuse that it might alienate people that already like the band, but a few moments do play around with traditional song structures and venture into territory they haven’t quite covered before. First single “Santa Fe” does play around with electro textures just a little bit and winds up becoming one of the catchiest and best Beirut songs to date. So it’s a standout not simply because it sticks in your head but also because it daringly betrays the more Eastern European sound the band has been cultivating these last few years. Then you examine a track like “Payne’s Bay”, which is otherwise right in Condon’s wheelhouse sonically, but has no discernible chorus and feels like it effortlessly blends two different “movements” into one. It may not be the easiest track to engage with, but the more time and listens you give it, the more you find it rewarding and fascinating.

Speaking directly of Condon’s vocal performance, he’s almost at the point where he could sing on Autopilot and it’d sound lovely. Already showing off as a prodigy of age 19 when he first arrived to us via “Gulag Orkestar”, with age comes a newfound weariness and a small throttling for somebody with plenty of range to work with. That’s not to say he sounds tired or unexpressive, but rather older, wiser and a little less eager to prove himself (probably because he no longer needs to). Still, opening track “A Candle’s Fire” clears some nice vocal hurdles, and by that same token so does the grandiose closing number “Port of Call”. In between is less so, but what is lost in range is made up for with a looser, more playful air. That comes across in both his singing as well as a few melodies, breaking out of the all-too-familiar “slow waltz” shell and into something more uptempo and generally pleasant. “East Harlem” and “Vagabond” speak nicely to that, while if high drama balladry is what you seek then “Goshen” or “The Peacock” also fit like a warm glove. Transitionally speaking the balance works pretty well, with the quicker bits moving into the slower bits and the mid-tempo stuff filling in the rest of the gaps.

The way “The Rip Tide” parses things out via a mixture of accessible, traditional and experimental melodies certainly makes this the most solid of all of Beirut’s efforts. There’s never a moment where this record just cruises along like a well-worn shoe. Instead, there are consistent surprises and changes from track-to-track that leave you guessing and anticipating what might come next. Add to that the stats of being a 9-track, 33-minute record and the whole thing is over before you know it. It never wears out its welcome because it finishes before having a chance to. Throw in a more Western, pop-friendly influence on occasion as well, and Beirut is more poised than ever to earn some major mainstream attention. Consider it either ironic or carefully planned that such things happen when Condon has reached his most independent, with full control over his music via his own label. Without a bigger push behind this record, it could easily slip between the cracks and become a vastly underrated gem by year’s end. Don’t let that happen. This might not have the same power or display of mastery that a record like “The Flying Club Cup” did, but it is a very promising start to what will hopefully be a great next step for Beirut.

Beirut – Santa Fe

Beirut – East Harlem

Album Review: CSS – La Liberación [V2/Cooperative/Downtown]

On 08/25/2011