Ariel Pink has been called many things; from "genius" to "misogynist", he is a divisive figure in modern alternative music. Born Ariel Marcus Rosenberg, Pink has successfully guised himself as a conundrum to the naysayers, prolifically devoting his life to endlessly creating lo-fi trash masterpieces for seemingly his own amusement. Teetering somewhere between the heir to the Zappa elseworlds and Dr. Demento's back catalog, the patchwork songsmith has allegedly crafted hundreds of records- releasing a sparse handful as physical albums comparatively. The most recent to wriggle its way from his collection: Pom Pom.
In a surprising (and abruptly noticable) change of pace, Ariel Pink's Pom Pom is his most produced effort (don't worry fans, it's still the same crazy- it just sounds cleaner)- which really seems to do his work justice. Vascillating between 60's wizard pop, spaztic noise rock, and sing-along 80's nuance, Pom Pom's toybox exists in a world where your VCR's tracking problems create accidental sideswiped nonsensities. It's strange, complex, completely original while being completely derivative, and undeniably not for everyone- but it needs to be experienced to even try to explain.
TV On The Radio formed in the wake of the early 2000's NYC rock n' roll revival trend, but unlike its five borough brethren who were preoccupied with analogue-striped guitars and Stones-worthy hooks, the Brooklyn natives had a more soulful approach. Since the band's inception, Tunde Adebimpe, David Andrew Sitek, Kyp Malone, Jaleel Bunton, and Gerard Smith have remained core members- churning out four albums of expansive R&B-tinged indie rock that seemingly grows with each release. The group's latest effort, "Seeds" finds the Brooklynites continuing down the road they started down and deliberately takes a few unexpected sideroads.
"Seeds" is decidedly a TV On The Radio record, the silky combination of Stax-era crooning over chunky bareback guitars that oscillate between dancehall grooves and cathartic distortion blasts. The result is a band that could easily be the lovechild of Talking Heads and William Bell- the welcomed difference is the textural layers of melodies they openly embrace. "Seeds" is a dance album for the NYC underground that still romanticizes guitars over synthesizers; or perhaps a soul record for the overzealous rock critic. Whichever camp you subscribe to, the common ground of genre-leanings TVOTR could easily make the most caustic naysayer bob their head to the beat.
Mark Lanegan is a survivor, above all else. As a founding member of 90's Sub Pop Records' grunge darlings, The Screaming Trees, Lanegan was raised in the hanging gardens of rock n' roll. Even after the band's inevitable implosion after label disinterest in 2000, he began releasing solo albums, collaborating with former Belle And Sebastian signer Isobel Campbell, and becoming a member of Queens Of The Stone Age sporadically throughout the last decade. With the release of 2012's "Blues Funeral", his writing process drifted from the all-too-familiar singer/guitar tropes of the other grunge survivors and took on the shape of a fully-formed ensemble.
Lanegan's greatest strength on his latest offering, "Phantom Radio", is the expansion of the sounds explored on "Funeral". Even at its meager moments, layers of cinematic synths and strings add a graceful texture to his most tragic yarns. There are moments on the album that echo the somber tone of a more stream-lined Tom Waits (or even "Good Son"-era Nick Cave), glacially poignant. Weaving his signature blues-laced fretwork throughout, "Phantom Radio" exists in a world where cowboys retire to a dying radio that crackles dead gospel to a new wave backbeat; surviving the dying of the light.
2012 was a good year for rapper/emcee El-P, the snarky and business-savvy-minded mic-wrangler unleashed his first proper album in nearly 5 years (the fanfare-worthy "Cancer4Cure") and produced Killer Mike's last outing "R.A.P. Music" to critical acclaim. Amidst his time behind the board, El and Mike struck up an unlikely partnership/friendship worthy of buddy cop movie comparisons; feeding off each others' industry woes and idea wells that pushed the duo relentlessly to the top of their respective games. From there, their inevitable team up as "Run The Jewels"spiraled outward to the hungry masses as they unexpectedly dropped their debut album for free online.
Sparing any discourse, RTJ was an immediate hit; topping out numerous end of the year hip hop countdowns and harkening back to a time when the medium was far more interested in self-aware, tongue-in-cheek musing than bragging about product endorsements. With such a feverish over-confidence (and rightfully so) in their work ethic and abilities, the duo eagerly began work on the album's sequel: "Run The Jewels 2".
RTJ2 is not pulling any punches-- from the first second in, Killer Mike's vulgar aggression rips into the first track with escalating enthusiasm, and beef-worthy beat production. The miraculous element to RTJ is their ability to consistently push themselves forward, while keeping their energy and voraciousness at dangerous levels of exuberance. Featuring some unexpected appearances from Zack De La Rocha and Travis Barker, El-P and Killer Mike have managed to elevate their already strong force to be reckoned with; one can only hope there's a Run The Jewels 3 in our future.
There's an old saying that simply states: "Everything old is new again..." and like most things, this is a feeling that is expressed in extremes by The Flaming Lips.
The Flaming Lips have had their collective third eye open for a while now; a case could be made that throughout the band's 14 album career they've actively ridden the spiraled staircase straight to the enlightened rock gods of Mars and returned to share the good word (a sentiment that would probably be adored by enigmatic frontman, Wayne Coyne.) Without a moment's hesitation to expand sonically with each album, the Lips have become a psychedelic mainstay thanks their exuberant, unquenchable zeal for the bizarre and ZERO label interference (which in itself is a miracle, considering it's Warner Bros. Records-- give credit where credit's due). So what's the next logical step for the little band of oddballs and their merry cult of starchildren? Cover The Beatles.
But The Flaming Lips aren't JUST covering The Beatles, that band that's practically universally-appreciated (even the biggest of music critic naysayers tend to avoid arguing the fab four's relevance and THAT speaks volumes)-- no, Coyne and Co went straight for assimilating the entirety of "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band". A massive undertaking that makes COMPLETE sense on paper, "With A Little Help From My Fwends" boasts some of the strangest choices ever made by the band; which includes the guest appearances of My Morning Jacket, Moby, Electric Wurmz, Grace Potter, Tegan and Sara, and (WHAT?) Miley Cyrus. Take all these elements, throw them in a blender, hit "frappé" and you have the finished product: An odd smattering of unrelated oddities miraculously mashed amidst each other until they resemble an album that you at one point owned. Recognizable and alien simultaneously, it's fever dream nostalgia at its peaks-- they hope you will enjoy the show, sit back and let the evening go.
Steven Ellison, known more commonly to the irreverently-inclined as Flying Lotus, took the electronic music scene by storm with his Warp Records debut- Reset EP. Reluctant to be confined to traditional EDM tropes, FlyLo employs a myriad of obscurities into his mixing pot- a recipe that often includes deep jazz cuts, scattered loops and hip-hop fused beat production that are patchworked into otherworldly musings. As a producer, he demonstrates the precision of a surgeon tapering layers of sounds like an audio Jenga that never topples over. With four full-length albums under his belt, Ellison doesn't show any signs of slowing down on his latest release, You're Dead!
Expanding his already expansive tools of the trade, You're Dead! is a record of maturing introversion and examination hidden between the cracks of acid-warped genre-bending and cartoon whimsy. The deeper explorations of death (as a metaphoric concept, rather a finite limitation) are guided by an eclectic ensemble of guest stars including the likes of Kendrick Lamar, Snoop Dogg and Herbie Hancock- all of which seamlessly cohabitate this parallel universe. You're Dead! is an otherworldly aural journey that grows within the listener with each spin and leaves you with new discoveries under each layer of sound.
Prince. So rarely has an artist maintained such a curious veil of mystery and mystique, while simultaneously producing a body of work that remains singular to the individual; Prince makes Prince music and while often imitated, its rarely the genuine article. Putting aside the proven track record for the bizarre, the memorable oddities of a career highlight reel, and the unending penchant for borderline-dictatorship creative control- Prince is the genuine article in mind, body and (what we'd safely assume is an otherworldly) spirit.
Reuniting with Warner Bros Records after nearly 18 years of disconnect, Prince has returned with not one- BUT TWO full length albums to prove his venerable presence is an essential voice in modern music. Both "Art Official Age" and "Plectrumelectrum" (with his hip-chick protege trio, 3rdEyeGirl) flex Prince's patented flair for the fret-fused, pop-sensible, funk n' roll grooves, while still treading into uncharted territory for his royal badness. "Age" is an eclectic pop tryst with nuanced autotune and dance beats more akin to familiar radio RnB that one would expect from the man that once publicly bashed Top 40 tunesmiths. While his outing with 3rdEyeGirl proves naysayers that Prince can still shred with the best of them- mixed with the bass and bombast of an arena rock record, this is an interesting and arguably welcome detour from his usual frequencies.
Not to be outweighed by his past accomplishments, Prince seems to be in flux at the moment- redefining who is is as an artist TO THIS DAY.
It's been nearly a decade since the great rock and roll revival of New York City which introduced us to a slew of grisly, pseudo-throwback acts and genuine art school confidants masquerading as guitar-slingers by night. Post 9-11 New York was a bubbling geyser of forging acts that carried the casket of modern rock quietly into the night, with the likes of bands such as Interpol, The Rapture, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and The Strokes. Founded by Julian Casablancas and maintaining their relevancy way past their expiration date, The Strokes' stripped-down garage rock managed to garnish the attention of mainstream radio
long after the hype ran out of steam.
The charismatic frontman has carved a niche with accessible melodies and subtle lyricism; a songsmith with a knack for pop sensibility and vintage execution. Enter the black sheep in his discography: THE VOIDZ. "Tyranny", the debut album from Julian Casablancas and his new band The Voidz, is the complete antithesis of any of his previous work in the best possible way.
Unpolished, unhinged, noisy, and virtually inaccessible to anyone whose excitement begins and ends with The Strokes' "Last Night"; "Tyranny" stands on its own as a rambunctious debut. Unafraid of 15 minute meanderings into 21st century cynical romanticism ("Human Sadness") or Black Flag-worthy proto-punk howling (the inexplicably catchy "Where No Eagles Fly"), the album's Warriors aesthetic is matched by its lack of pomp and circumstance, which one can only assume were chucked down a garbage disposal in a wash of grimy guitars, 80's-inspired blast-beat drums, and kitschy-casio keyboards.
After the disbanding of the nearly-forgotten Astralwerks band Simian, electronic wizards James Ford and Jas Shaw began producing analogue works under the moniker: Simian Mobile Disco. Receiving much-deserved attention for their remixes of various britrock mainstays such as Klaxons and Muse, the duo's momentum lead to the release of their debut album "Attack Decay Sustain Release". The album, which received favorable reviews on the electronic circuit (no pun intended), launched them onward to immediate levels of productivity, churning out five albums worth of material within 5 years (a rare level of tenure in the genre).
Ford & Shaw's latest outing finds the typically-expansive production team gravitating inward toward the more intimate, minimalist approach. "Whorl" is in itself an ethereal listening experience and an inadvertent art project from the get-go- the album was recorded live, outside at Joshua Tree with each member being limited to only 1 sequencer and 1 synthesizer, respectively. The results are a sweeping, almost percussionless, soundwave that is the direct result of its environment- echoing chasms of starlit desert. Pensive and altruistic at times, "Whorl" has no apprehension about shaking off potential singles, it embraces the album format as a whole (seriously, from start to finish is the ONLY way this record should be enjoyed) and mesmerizes in the process.
Rowland S. Howard is a name that should ring throughout the halls of gloom-trodden rock n' rollers; discouraged former-goths of the 80's should have a framed portrait of the man on their mantle beside their respective Poe omnibus. Howard's guitar work helped shape the Aussie-punk-fused roots of what would echo throughout The Bat Cave for decades to come- he's the very definition of an unsung hero.
A founding member of The Birthday Party, which went on to spawn Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds, JG Thirwell and the likes of Lydia Lunch, Howard's angular, slow-rolling approach to songwriting conjures the knock-down/drag-out aesthetic that's been lost to music for far too long. His world-weary drawl echoes across each film noir-worthy ballad on his second solo album, "Pop Crimes".
Released posthumously (after losing his battle to liver cancer) stateside, Howard's unintentional swan song is a strong, engrossing collection of cohesive tragedies weaved amidst his patented cynicism. "Pop Crimes" is a disaffected record- it demands nothing of you and expects even less- but its thread-baren honesty and brood-worthy shuffle seduces you without warning. Thank you Rowland, your songs are the words that ghosts whisper in starstruck city alleys.
Time has a funny way of illuminating the past; nostalgia may be a bittersweet notion in these ever-changing times, but it does manage to illustrate something's relevance in the long run. 2004 wasn't necessarily a standout year- Bush was still in office, Friends ended, music snobbery on the internet was in its infant-stages (the word "Pitchfork" was still a mere farming farming tool and not a self-important hub of music critic one-upsmanship)- we were an aggressive, cynical nation overall. Enter DEATH FROM ABOVE 1979- a two-man skull-cracking, riff-driven, madness machine bent on disinterested mayhem. On their debut album, "You're A Woman, I'm A Machine", vocalist/drummer Sebastien Grainger and bassist/synth player Jesse F. Keeler delivered a blast of relentlessly unhinged post-punk songs that weren't afraid to shed its violent backbeat into 70's-dance rock melody and hooks. Despite helming such an exciting record, the duo parted ways soon after- scoffing at rumors of ever making a follow-up.
It's 2014 now, amidst our wave of evolving personal politics, elevated vicarious lifestyles through constant self-promotion on social networks (words that are now commonly used), and rising kale popularity- we're boring. Stagnant, even. The majority of the music that impacts the charts (and more importantly, the afformentioned hub of music critic one-upsmanship) typically falls into three camps: acoustic guitar whining, sterilized synthy-driven dance pop, or nonsensical avante garde instrumental compositions. This looks like a job for DEATH FROM ABOVE 1979!
With the nearly a decade passed, DFA1979 triumphantly returns with a second (and much-needed) release: "The Physical World." Barely straying from their initial sound, the duo fervently rekindled the manic, angular pop sensibility demonstrated on their debut and didn't spare a moment to second-guess. It's the same band, making the same kind of music- the only thing that's changed is the musical landscape. Somebody had to save the world from the industry's vanilla-tinged boredom, our stereos will thank us for DEATH FROM ABOVE 1979.
Dan Nakamura, or Dan The Automator as he's known to educated hip-hopologists and beat-worshippers worldwide, is a man with many pots on the stove. Half of the hip hop journeymen Handsome Boy Modeling School (with Prince Paul), producer extraordinaire to the likes of Del Tha Funkee Homosapien, Kasabian, Dr. Octagon, and a menagerie of others, and a frequent collaborator with Mike Patton, DJ Shadow and most recently- Mary Elizabeth Winstead. Yes. The actress Mary Elizabeth Winstead. The two struck up an unlikely friendship while Winstead was filming Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World (which Nakamura scored) and managed to produce an album worthy of giving Lana Del Rey's gloom and doom-fused "Ultraviolence" a run for the sunnier side of affairs.
Nakamura's penchant for collaborating with female vocalists comes from a seamless ability to showcase his respective collaborator's delivery while peppering in modern flourishes of his hip hop instrumentalists roots. This being his second outing as the backbeat for a vocalist in the last year (he previously released an album with singer-songwriter Emily Wells under the moniker, Pillowfight), "I Love You..." holds steady common ground French film scores of the sixties or Nakamura's collaboration with Mike Patton, "Lovage". Lush and effortless (like most of Dan The Automator's work), the producer managers to continuously remind us why he's one of the most sought-after soundsmiths in the business. More surprisingly is Winstead, who manages to hold her own amidst it all as both a songbird and lyricist- echoing the sentiments of an era passed as if it was her own.
There are some things in this universe rarer than an oxymoron; for example, multiple music-related periodicals AGREEING on something. Case in point: the buzzworthy, now-championed debut full-length of newcomer FKA twigs. The British-born Tahliah Barnett paid her dues early as a pop video back-up dancer; a career which the glitch-songstress quickly dismisses in interviews, as she is seemingly more mindful of her future rather than her past. It's this forward-thinking that becomes so evident on "LP1"- FKA twigs (short for "Formerly Known As" twigs after a cease and desist order from an artist of the same name rendered her rebranded) employs somber immediacy throughout her album, weaving a tangible intimacy with her listener.
The 10 songs that encompass "LP1" are massive in form; not bombastic, but emotive and vulnerable without shedding an ounce of control. Barnett's strength comes from her delivery, the closest comparison would be Flying Lotus as channeled through Kate Bush, performed by Little Dragon (and even that dissection would prove to be a disservice, as she often rises above expectations). Never straying far from her R&B-tinged, pillow-talk vocals, the instrumentation she employs is endlessly a contradiction of glitch and electronica juxtaposed against an eclectic tapestry of organic, acoustic sounds; setting the tone for her lyrics on the forefront. The results are an oxymoron; strangely beautiful.
The Raveonettes unassumingly stepped into the ring amidst the great rock revival of the early 2000's; the summer that spawned a myriad of guitar-totting "THE" bands (see: THE Strokes, THE Hives, etc.) Champing at the bit to reignite the rebel without a cause lonerism of James Dean, the Danish duo of Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo unashamedly embraced the camp of the teenage kicks with 2003's Chain Gang Of Love.
Five albums and a decade later, The Raveonettes remain and the "new-rock" revolution is all but an ill-fated memory- the survivors of which have dithered into obscurity or attempted to remain relevant while still rehashing the same album (see: THE Strokes, THE Hives, etc.) Their latest album "Pe'ahi", whose name is derived from a big wave surfing break in Hawaii where Wagner had a near-drowning experience a few years prior, could serve as a lesson to those other bands. How does a band remain relevant and exciting? REINVENTION.
The Raveonettes latest outing echoes the strong resilience of 90's alt acts, employing breakbeats and UK nu-raver intuitions peppered throughout the mix (thanks in part to producer Justin Meldal-Johnsen, whose resume includes M83, Beck, and Air), raising their songwriting to a new level of cool.
Swedish electrophile Hannes Norrvide, made his debut under the moniker Lust For Youth with 2012's "Growing Seeds", amidst a decade where the cultural zeitgeist's newfound adoration of invincible youth culture and dancey "live fast, die young" California not-pop unabashedly reigned. No, Lust For Youth abandoned the hypocrisy of modern dance pop and plummeted to the depths of world-wariness and teen despair with the elegance and bravado of electronica's roots.
Straying (but ever, so slightly) from the kitschy casio-tinged melodies of their debut and last year's "Perfect View"; the band's recent offering, "International" finds Norrvide and company exploring fuller, more lush sonic escapades. The bleeps and bloops that previously defined them are somberly blanketed in the background; texturally aiding the mopey dancefloor backbeat under impeding waves of forlorn synthlines. It's a time-tested, albeit perfected, formula (see: Bauhaus, Depeche Mode, Pet Shop Boys, etc) and the blatantly persuasive new romantic leanings could make them inadvertently dismissible- if it weren't for the level of earnest conviction and humble reinterpretation the band demonstrates throughout the album.
The element that separates Lust For Youth the most from the onslaught of throwback acts is its self-awareness; this is a band that has ZERO reservations about pushing itself into directions that embrace genre nostalgia. From Norrvide's reverbed Ian Curtis croon noodling in and out of silky dance contemplation to the layers of orchestrated gloompop, "International" is an album that will inevitably have the uninitiated listener wondering why they never found any B-sides of Lust For Youth on their "Unsung Heroes Of The 80's" box set.
What do you get when you cross a lavish Norwegian dance duo with one of Sweden's single-most chart-topping export popstars? You get the esoteric electronic album you never knew you needed, from none other than Royksopp and Robin (yes, the same Robyn that had that catchy tune on the radio in the 90's). Both artists, who've achieved an admirable amount of success across the pop electronica and dance charts, seem like an unlikely pairing on paper- though their discographies would disagree with such inclinations.
"Do It Again", finds the artists at the top of their respective games- Royksopp brings the club-pulsating synths and mish-mash beat production which tempers perfectly to Robyn's cool, collected coos seamlessly. Even at a modest five tracks, the collaboration packs more substantial resonance than the majority of most modern dance albums- high-octane body-movers, moments of experimentalism, scrawling textures of sound- and all often within the same song!
Tom Krell, or How To Dress Well as he's better known, is a student. Wearing his influences proudly, much like the heart on his sleeve in his most pensive lyrics, Krell is the amalgamation of the earnest SXSW attendee cool and a boyhood collection of mid-90's R&B records. On his 2010 debut, Love Remains, he displayed a confident grasp of come-hither pillowtalk amidst raw production of swirling synths, strings and muted/minimal beat work that could have easily given R-Kelly (at his A-game) a run for his money. The strong debut was quickly followed up by his equally-strong and expansive sophomore release Total Loss, which earned him critical acclaim and a fervent fanbase.
At just 30 years old, the young Krell continues his prolific career of elegant, angular soul with his latest effort, What Is This Heart? The album finds How To Dress Well diving deeper into the poignant and introspective with toe-curling aplomb, nestling its way into the modern R&B faire casually and somberly. With a modern landscape of acts like Frank Ocean or The Weekend (both of which could easily serve as companion pieces to this latest outing), Heart? rises to any challenge offered by the modern naysayer- nonchalantly honest, silky-soft production and brimming with a zeal of restrained pop sensibility, this album could easily be a footnote in a prosperous career as well as a genre-bending revision of modern R&B.
In the early reach of the 2000's there was once a modest record label birthed out of Omaha, Nebraska, known to an eclectic social club of anti-social mop-topped, coffee-swigging, thrift store-tailored elite as Saddle Creek Records (they heard of them before you did). Saddle Creek was the forerunner in earnesty as the 90's obsession with post-irony receded galantly. Their artists roster, a regular who's-who of the melancholic and somber, consisted of the likes of Cursive, Azure Ray, The Mynabirds, and the ever-championed-among-the-blogsphere- Conor Oberst (alias, Bright Eyes). Somewhere hiding among the namedrop darlings was a brash, overtly-dancable and heavy synth-laden group of mascara-smeared skinny gentlemen known as THE FAINT.
With six albums under their belt as the odd men out on Saddle Creek and a self-released, self-financed album on their own blank.wav records, years had passed without a remote blip (pun intended) popping up on the radar for The Faint. But after six years of silence, one of the bands responsible for the "Neo-New Wave" (yes, we can all shudder at the overused rock journalists' candor) movement has returned with their much-anticipated latest offering: DOOM ABUSE.
The record finds the band embracing a confident swagger amidst the blasts of synthesized noise and disco back beats, which seamlessly mesh with frontman Todd Fink's schizophrenic, paranoia-obsessed lyrics. In fact DOOM, more than their previous releases, is unhinged with the band's most assertive and almost militant observations on modern America and conspiracy theories. Whether your Saturday night is spent dancing on rooftops or soapboxes- The Faint have proven that Emma Goldman was right when she said "If I can't dance, I don't want your revolution!"
It's hard to imagine it's been over 3 decades since Brian Eno left Roxy Music to pioneer the future of studio production and spin a significant body of work over the course of his career. On his second outing (this year!) with formative Underworld frontman, Karl Hyde, the duo expand on the sounds shaped on "Someday World" significantly in just six movements.
While still maintaining Eno's patented shimmery, dreamlike approach (the sound that has thus shaped Coldplay into the melancholic radio darlings that you love to hate)- the addition of Hyde's jangly, almost jam-band-worthy guitar fretwork is front and center for the majority of "High Life". The result is a mixed bag of tracks that fit in PERFECTLY with the electronic-tinged works of the rest of the Warp Records roster (Eno's current label home) and a few tunes that could easily befriend your former college roomate and lifetime Phish band. Elegant in its approach, enigmatic in production and elusive in cohesiveness, Eno can't make a bad record- but he can certainly make you wonder which direction he'll explore next.
It's hard to imagine, it's only been a little over a year since the not-so-silent invasion of the reigning songbird of solemnity took the throne over her army of lovesick Brooklyn twentysomethings. From the viral sensation of "Video Games", to an abysmal (and much-debated) Saturday Night Live "spectacle"- Miss Del Rey has crooned, murmured and whispered her live fast/die young mantra to the top of the not-pops. Here she is millenials, your new mistress of mope.
To say Lana Del Rey's debut, "Born To Die" (and subsequent "Paradise" EP), is an acquired taste is something of an understatement. Del Rey harkens to the days of Silver-Age Hollywood, forlorn trysts of unfathomable comprehension and sultry smoke-curls of ex lovers ripped straight from a harlequin romance novel- or at least that's what you'd be lead to believe since her lyrics are about as subtle as a brick through your front windshield. Semantics aside, the young starlet/harlot/darlin' (to borrow her turn of phrase) has indeed carved a niche for herself and even more surprisingly- EVOLVED!
Her recent release, "Ultraviolent", finds the damsel in distress treading into choppier waters with the direction of The Black Keys' Dan Auerbach behind the helm as Producer. Nearly gone are the lush strings backed by Hip Hop-worthy beats we found in her earlier catalogue; Auerbach has since introduced her to the healthy application of feedback & blues-laden guitars. Naysayers may be wary to find the result is far more inviting than expected- we find ourselves slowly collapsing blissfully to the soundtrack of a lost spy movie as dictated by the diary of a teenage girl.
The Roots are a hip hop mainstay- the Philly-bred group's eclectic mix of pensive lyricism and live-instrumentation has continuously left the Clear Channel radio rap fodder decades behind in the dust. With the founding fathers Tariq "Black Thought Trotter and Ahmir "?uestlove" Thompson at the helm, the group has released over a dozen records, landed the role of house band for The Tonight Show With Jimmy Fallon, and easily remained a must-see live-act. Their latest release, entitled "...And Then You Shoot Your Cousin", sees them raising the bar (yet again) and giving the hip hop community a run for their money.
Since the release of 2002's "Phrenology", The Roots have cleverly managed to slip in their jazz tendencies and avant garde detours increasingly with each record. "...And Then You Shoot Your Cousin" is choked-full of disjointed instrumentation and film score-worthy production that makes it hard to believe this is the same band that gets drowned out by the sound of applause nightly on your television when it would seem more at home serving a residence at MoMA. Serving as a matured companion piece to last year's "Undun", this is the welcomed logical next step for The Roots.
Ben Frost has carved a modest niche for himself in the hearts- and more importantly, ears- of the avant garde/ambient music community. Juxtaposing a pastiche of tangible soundscapes against swirling strings and minimalist drone, Frost's previous works could easily serve as aural brethren to the likes of Oneohtrix Point Never or Tim Hecker (with whom he previously collaborated with on the album Ravedeath, 1972). His latest release "A U R O R A", however, launches him into darker and more idiosyncratic territories.
Opening with a cacophonous swirl of synths and distortion fed through layers of distortion (and a hint of extra distortion for good measure), Frost is swimming in a sea overwrought with a newfound romance of electronics. The organic textures previously explored are all but sparse here, effortlessly substituted with a bevy of futuristic assaults. "A U R O R A" exists in a world where percussive static leads armies of knob-turning machinery crushes over their well-intentioned rain forests. This is science fiction; the sonic equivalent of a Philip K. Dick novel. From the opening blasts of ethereal noise to the textured bleeps of the closing track, "A Single Point Of Blinding Light", "A U R O R A" works seamlessly as a lone movement.
If you're looking for the sounds of the future, Ben Frost is certainly standing on the event horizon.
Spring is finally here.How do I know this?Chromeo’s new album “White Women” just
arrived.For me, Chromeo is
notoriously a spring/summertime listen, especially their past couple of albums.
The Canadian duo of David
Macklovitch and Patrick Gemayel, self described as "the only successful Arab/Jewish
partnership since the dawn of human culture" consistently puts out
hyper-meta electro funk that wouldn’t feel out of place in an early 80’s dance
club.The past few albums they
released have pushed the envelope of tongue in cheek dance pop.Whether they are collaborating with
Solange Knowles (Beyonce’s little sister) to create the Whitney Houston
inspired “When the Night Falls” off of their album “Business Casual” or backing
up Chance the Rapper, they know that what makes them cool is not being cool.
There has never been a less relevant
sound that has been so instantly relevant because of the contradiction.Chromeo is simply good time music for
un-ironic people.Does it sound
dated?Yes.Is it still incredibly well put
together?Absolutely.Are their lyrics hilarious?Sure.Can you still get down to their new album “White Women”?Hell yes.
“White Women” starts out with a
song about the jealousy one feels when they see their girl chat up other
dudes.I’m sure this is something
we can all relate to.But when
Chromeo sings about it, it becomes a lot less serious.The album is saturated with clever one
liners, synth hooks, and guest appearances.Solange makes an appearance again, along with a handful of
others.The obvious studio
expertise on the engineer’s part makes this Chromeo album the best sounding one
to date, and I am curious to see how first timers react to this album (as it
has become my understanding that this is the first album of theirs to be sold
in mainstream avenues).
I am hopeful that this album is
well received because I thoroughly enjoyed listening to it from start to
finish.But even if it’s not, I’m
sure that wouldn’t deter the gentlemen in Chromeo.They’ve been at this for years, and bands like Capital
Cities and Fitz and the Tantrums owe Chromeo for creating the "kidding/not
kidding" kind of dance pop.
Even as the slow fade of
synthesizers, and the gradual inclusion of arpegiators build the sonic
foundation for Luminous, the newest
album by The Horrors, you can tell that it is going to be GIANT.As the synthesizer introduction reaches
a crescendo, a wall of fuzzy guitars, room filling drums and a basement
dwelling bass covered in grit join them in a swirling, yet driven groove that
has the psychedelic textures of bands like the Flaming Lips, and Tame Impala,
but with more (or maybe bigger) balls.
The Horrors have grown
exponentially since their debut album Strange
Home, and each album shows sonic experimentation and song writing
maturation, Luminous is no
exception.It seems as though the
band took all the best sounds and ideas on Skying
and cranked them up to 11.Despite
their affinity for taking chances with sounds and structure, Luminous
does have a lot in common with Skying,
so if you are already a fan, you will immediately relate to some of the
characteristic movements that the Horrors have built into their niche.Not to say that they have phoned the
album in, that is most certainly not the case.There is plenty to love.
On “Chasing Shadows” (the albums
introductory track), they prove that they are going to be patient leading into
the record.Almost giving the
listener a disclaimer, like “Okay, these are the sounds we use, prepare
yourselves, because soon they will be buried in guitars, but rest assured, they
are there.” It
is important to remember that the Horrors are a band that is right at home in
the studio, so it seems like they are flexing their production muscles a
little.Right around 2:52 seconds,
the song explodes into the heavy drum groove that they had us all waiting
for.
Looking
for something that sounds down and dirty in a Black Keys kinda way, but rocks
like early Hendrix as well?Black
Joe Lewis’ Electric Slave.It is a strong compendium of heavy
guitar rock, with aggressive distorted vocals and a dense full band sound.
While
listening to Electric Slave I was
given a distinct Chuck Berry-meets-the Clash-listening-to-Black
Angels-while-smoking-copious-amounts-of-weed impression.I mean we’re talking Berry’s twelve bar
blues, with the Clash’s dirty bass sound and Black Angels vocal style. Electric Slave is a really energetic
record, but also strait forward enough to get down to.Compared to his “Bitch I Love You”
days, this is a departure for Black Joe Lewis. Electric Slave’s drums sound appropriately big, horn sections bite
through the fat guitar layers, and there is also some James Brown to his
screamed freak-outs, but without the funk completely.
The
songs on Electric Slave come as a
complete surprise.I don’t know
what I expected from it…Maybe something a little more chilled out.I got the opposite.The album is a complete cluster
fuck of noisy guitar chaos.Its
pretty cool when things line up in unison, like the top two string bend on a
guitar lining up with a sloppy horn line.Its got all the sixties fuzz you could want, and each song really stands
on its own, and retains an interesting feel as a variable all the way thru it.
There
is assuredly some mid 70’s black revival sound in it as well, but not as much
as Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings, or things of that nature. Electric Slave doesn’t seem gimmicky at
all, and has appeal to modern listeners, not just those that long for the past.
I sold a copy of the new Band of
Skulls to an elderly woman this morning.I was by myself in the shop and I tossed on their new record.Almost immediately after it started,
this woman and her daughter walked in.Initially I was asked questions about Duke Ellington (by the daughter)
and the mother was quiet.After
assisting the younger of the two women, I was asked by the mother what was
playing.I told her “This is Band
of Skulls new album ‘Himalayas’”.She responded by telling me all the things that she loved about it and
my jaw dropped.Himalayas is
HEAVY, not only in tonality, but also in terms of content.She told me she found it
fascinating and that she would listen to it while playing Grand Theft Auto
V.I am not making this up or
exaggerating in any way.Coolest.
Customer. Ever.
The album itself is a sonic
wonderland.It is reminiscent of
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club’s “Specter at the Feast” in the sense that it
changes mood and feel determined by the song’s underlying lyrical theme, sometimes
within the same song.For a band I
would consider “post-garage-rock” they are incredibly dynamic.One second letting a guitar ring out
with hushed singing, the next smothering the sonic spectrum with a huge riff
played in unison.
Maybe it’s because the sun is out,
but I am ready for some real rock and roll.Himalayas delivers it in its purest, freshest form.They are an amalgamation of down and
dirty fuzz tone, and cool semi-driven telecaster jangle, big ass drums, and
bass with depth you can feel in your gut.However, they are not a one trick pony by any means.On “Cold Sweat” they begin with what
sounds like a telecaster run through heavy modulation and delay with the
repeats turned way up.The song
quickly begins to move away from the unison riff-ery and turns moody and almost
post rock in terms of tone. I love the switch between male and female vocals that
occurs almost seamlessly, (Emma Richardson, the bassist and vocalist – check
out her other band with Jack White, Dead
Weather).I have found my
favorite record of 2014 so far, and will be investigating their back
catalogue.
Come into Lakeshore and pick up the
vinyl, it sounds fantastic, and comes with a gorgeous limited edition
lithograph.
I’ll start by saying that I’ve been
waiting 3 years for a new Manchester Orchestra release.It was well worth the wait.Andy Hull and company are back for the
most rocking album they’ve released since 2007, potentially more rocking than
anything they’ve put out.
In
the last three years Manchester Orchestra has been busy.Acting as the backup band for The Dear
Hunter’s color spectrum on “Red”, converting an Atlanta, GA house into their
recording studio and demoing out 28 songs before narrowing down the choices to the
ones that made the cut for their forthcoming album “Cope”.
The
album is full on rock and roll, and is so much heavier than “Simple Math” that
it is like they are bypassing its existence and working towards another
“Everything to Nothing”.The
instrumentals sound incredibly polished and heavier than ever, in addition to
upping the production value on the vocals, they went all out on their record,
and knowing that they recorded it themselves makes it all the more pleasing to
hear something so well engineered.
The
songs run the gamut from minor to major and move seamlessly between dirty and
downtrodden to gritty yet uplifting.As always, Hull’s vocals are spot on, even when he is harmonizing high
above his normal register.His
lyrics are just as full of depth as they have ever been, however he seems to
concentrate more on one particular theme than he has in the past. Hull had this to say at a press
release, “Cope, to me, means getting by. It means letting go, and being OK
with being OK. You can cope in a positive way when bad things happen, or a
negative way, and that blend was a big lyrical theme for me on this album.”He also goes on to reflect on the idea
of the colors red and black being the thematic colors for not only the album
cover but for the tone of the record as well.
The new “War On Drugs” band name is deceiving.Not that “Lost in the Dream” sounds
like they binged out on acid or anything during the recording process, but it
does sound like something that you could drunkenly dance to at the Bug
Jar.
With
an 80’s drum machine beat (but played on real drums) prevalent through the whole album, and ethereal Cure-sounding
synthesizers, and Graceland-Era-Paul Simon-esqe vocals, the album launches with
an “It’s Friday, I’m In Love” kind of feel.The song “Under the Pressure” is a perfect opener and gives
you an idea of what to expect throughout the rest of the album.Maybe I am not old enough to know what
was cool in the 80’s (I’m not, my idea of the 80’s is neon colors, awkwardly
fitting pants, Back to the Future, and my parents getting married), but I think
this would’ve topped any of the top 40 bands back then, and I wish it would
now.
Originally
founded by guitarist/singer Adam Granduciel and Kurt Vile (who left shortly
after to focus on his solo work) the band has grown into something unique among
a thousand hipster bands trying to capitalize on the past.Vile recounts moving to PA and meeting
Granduciel, and says of the bands name "My friend
Julian and I came up with it a few years ago over a couple bottles of red wine
and a few typewriters when we were living in Oakland. We were writing a lot
back then, working on a dictionary, and it just came out and we were like
"hey, good band name” so eventually when I moved to Philadelphia and got a
band together I used it. It was either that or The Rigatoni Danzas. I think we
made the right choice. I always felt though that it was the kind of name I
could record all sorts of different music under without any sort of
predictability inherent in the name"
With
a resume like Granduciel’s (guitarist in Kurt Vile and the Violators,
front man for the War on Drugs, and producer of several albums) it is no shock
that he and The War on Drugs put out something so unique.There are times when the album slows
down, but always picks up quickly.It is hard not to imagine a smoke filled dive bar with a rowdy crowd
yelling at the band to play cover songs and, in a rebellious response The War
on Drugs plays one of their up-tempo songs and even the asshole that asked for
a Motley Crue Cover can’t help but dance.
Are
you looking for something new to make you move in your living room, on the
dance floor, or get you through a car ride for work that takes hours?Look no further than The War on Drugs –
Lost in the Dream. Buy the War on Drugs
Dan
walked in last Thursday, and after we exchanged our usual greetings, he
immediately proceeded to walk over to the vinyl racks to see if we got in The
Notwist’s new album.He looked at
me with excitement that comes about when he is sincerely curious about
something new.I could tell he had
no preconceived notions of what it would be.Dan is a musical jedi.He is most akin to (in terms of music taste) Obi Wan Kenobi, he is open
minded, but can see the “truth” of subjectivity “from a certain point of view”.If he told me to go to the Dagobah
system to train with Yoda I would. Circumstances however, have landed me at the writers desk, so
you all get to deal with my 11th grade grasp of the English language
and lackluster sentence structure.Now! The Notwist-Close to the Glass.
The
album begins with an array of quiet electronic noises, gliding into glitches
and melodic circuit bending.As it
takes shape, the sound coalesces into a sparse but beautiful surrounding for
the understated vocal track.Notwist manages to build those glitches into the sonic backbone of the
track. They are even basing the key signature off the initial sounds (which if
isolated wouldn’t make sense).But
by the time spaced out Rhodes, reversed/swelled string(ish) sounds, and what
appear to be room sounds (perhaps of them dropping pieces of wood or perhaps
electrical cable in time to the drums) are layered into the mix, they act as
one to provide a textural aura that surrounds their melodic focal point.
This
is an album to listen to through headphones, and a rewarding one at that. I noticed so many gorgeous subtleties to each track on
“Close to the Glass”.To me, this
is the first album of 2014 that I am legitimately going to listen to throughout
the whole year, and I will definitely be adding it to my collection.The Notwist takes you for an emotional
ride, and if you’re like me, hearing one song will make you crave the album in
it’s entirety.
With such impeccable song craft,
“Close to the Glass” is a joy to listen to, will keep you coming back to it to
hear all the little details that hooked me.As spring approaches, “Close to the Glass” is the perfect companion
to welcome longer days, drives with the windows down, road trips and
reflections on the winter past.
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