na: santogold, mogwai & more

There are a terrifying number of new releases over the last 48 hours. So without further ado:

Santogold, Santogold: This is probably one of my favorite records of the year. Santi White references everyone from Siouxsie Sioux to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs; her debut is a head-spinning, style-jumping pop masterpiece. Highly recommended. From what I gather, it even passes the Amishi test. So you know it must be good. eMusic’s Andy Battaglia has this to say:

Certainly songs like “Creator” pick up on M.I.A.’s beloved stomp-and-toast vocals and polyglot sci-fi world sound, but just as much of Santogold swings at hooky reggae, gothy balladry and even snappy indie-rock.

“L.E.S. Artistes” makes the moody range known from the start, with smeared guitars and vocal moves straight out of mid-tempo Yeah Yeah Yeahs before “You’ll Find a Way” wanders into sharp, sawing reggae of the kind reconfigured by the Clash. That’s just in the span of two songs, and swerves of the sort are standard. Graced by the odder quirks of Santogold’s nasal voice, “Say Aha” suggests M.I.A. fronting a gypsy-rock band like Gogol Bordello. Which, of course, has nothing to do with the affecting Siouxsie & the Banshees-like sulk of “My Superman” or the homey indie-rock crunch of “Lights Out.”

Mogwai, Young Team (Reissue): Breakthrough record from legendary instrumentalists is cleaned up and augmented with live tracks and rarities. We hope you’re sitting down, because none other than Todd “Electronica” Burns is a fan. In his review, he says:

The Scottish quartet’s debut album is a vicious one, full of viscous guitar feedback, serrated riffs and a healthy dose of anger. It’s the glorious sound of guitars being unleashed to their full volume potential. It’s the sound of four dudes getting together and making a racket.

The thing that made Mogwai so beloved, though, was the presence of the complete opposite as well. “Like Herod”’s explosive climaxes would be nothing without equal bouts of patient melodicism. “Radar Maker” and “With Portfolio” would merely be ambient curiosities, if they weren’t besieged by a torrential downpour of guitar on either side.

The Black Angels, Directions to See a Ghost: It’s back! The second record from these Southern psych lords is all sturm und…, uh, more sturm, big, spacey and dark — eMu’s Corey duBrowa sez:

Whether embodied in the spirit of the album’s perfect sonic bookends — the creeping-dread opener “You on the Run” and its 16-minute-plus mirror, “Snake in the Grass” — or the many essays-on-a-theme that dot the barren landscape in between (“Never Ever” — vocalist Alex Maas’ freak-flag festival of doom, complete with weird noises that echo the Elevators’ legendary “electric jug” — is particularly effective), Directions to See a Ghost keeps it real (creepy) by harnessing the group’s black-light Warlock Rock in all the right, evil ways.

[Note: Todd "Bleeps & Bloops" Burns pointed out that he already blurbed the two above records the other day, so apologies for the overlap.]

Seun Kuti, Seun Kuti & Fela’s Egypt 80: Highly, highly recommended. I got invited to see Seun Kuti play a show in NYC about a year or two ago. I was initially extremely skeptical. I haven’t always loved the stuff that Fela’s other son, Femi, has done, and I expected this to be more of the same. The only thing that got me to go was the presence of Egypt 80, which is comprised of some of the same members of Fela’s actually Egypt 80. I’m glad I changed my mind: this is the closest thing to a Fela Kuti record I’ve heard since Fela himself passed to the other side. The rolling percussion, the all-over-the-place horns, the barked vocals — the spirit of Fela owns this record. My only gripe is that the production on the horns is bizarre — they sound tinny and a little fake. But once the groove kicks in, it hardly matters. Fans of the legend will find much to love in his son.

Gravediggaz, 6 Feet Deep: A classic. You could argue that this is the record that basically invented horrorcore. This is not PC backpack rap, this is murder muzik; there are an awful lot of worn-out cassette copies of 6 Feet Deep in old shoeboxes all across suburban America. The Gravediggaz are RZA and Prince Paul, along with Frukwan and Too Poetic; the record is full of that great, chopped-up, beat-heavy, sample-based hip-hop. RZA was in his production prime, and any fans of that mid-90s sound who haven’t heard this yet are in for a treat.

RZA, RZA As Bobby Digital in Stereo: RZA’s weirdo sci-fi masterpiece: lot’s of odd blips and bleeps, chipmunk soul vocals and RZA’s trademark halting flow. It has it’s charms — it’s no Tical or Supreme Clientele, but it does what it does well. It’s just that “what it does” happens to be a strange sci-fi rap opera with some seriously neonlike production

The Julies, Lovelife: When I lived in Philadelphia, I played the hell out of this record. The Julies were a local band who I saw live 5 or 6 times — their music is a terrific (and terrifically sloppy) combination of the Smiths and the Cure, those big cutting guitars and pouty pouty vocals. I listened to “Drive Me Mad” and “Love Scene 17″ like 20 times daily at a certain point. Anyway, funny story: about a year ago I was talking to an eMusic employee named Greg who mentioned he was from Philly and in a band. To which I said, “Oh, hey, what band.” And then he said, “The Julies.” And then I freaked out. So here they are, the Julies, with an embarrassing backstory from me and an eMusic employee on drums. What more could you possibly ask for?

And speaking of eMusic employees in bands: he’d never point it out himself, but the debut EP from Alex’s band The Pains of Being Pure at Heart showed up recently, too! Like the Julies they’re big and jangly and poppy in that classic C86/Britpop way. More great, fey vocals and jangly guitars. The take-home here is that eMusic employees are all a bunch of wusses. This EP comes highly recommended.

The French Kicks, Swimming: New York rock band chills out and suns-up on their latest go-round. eMusic’s Alex Benenson writes:

The music on their fourth album don’t take their inspiration from the urban landscape; this time the Kicks have packed their bags and taken leave of the mottled asphalt, gleaming high-rises, and all those Strokes comparisons and headed for the shore.

Lead singer Nick Stumpf gives the best vocal performance of his career here — his breathy voice takes on a mesmerizing kind of tidal rhythm, waxing and waning against the sea-surf shucka-shucka of shakers and cymbals. The guitars bounce tremolo lines around some deep cove shot through with a piano’s ivory shafts of light.

Port O’Brien, All We Could Do Was Sing: Yancey is a big Port O’Brien supporter, and a cursory listen makes it easy to see why: there’s a folkish undercurrent to these songs, but they’re not afraid of grandeur, either, going for it when necessary. Fans of Midlake and maybe even Andrew Bird should dig — I leave it to Yancey to expand.

Steve Earle, Transcendental Blues: Man, I used to love this record. Earle is basically writing pop songs here with country dressing — that title track is a killer — and this one charms me in a way some of his other ones don’t. It’s gritty and grizzled hangdog, a long night in a dangerous bar in a sleeveless denim vest. And yes, I’ve had a lot of those.

Au, rr vs. d: New single from the great band Au. We’ll be getting their new record, Verbs, on the site in a few weeks, and it’s an easy pick for one of the year’s best. Call it unhinged, psyched-out carnival rock. “rr vs. d” is the perfect calling card: whirligig piano chords, weirdo falsetto vocals and strange mid-song breakdowns. Highly recommended

Ingrid Michaelson, Giving Up: Older single from Grey’s Anatomy fave.

Kid Sister, Pro Nails/Super High Shine: Another single, this one from the awesome Kid Sister. Sis is from Chicago and delivers that great, boom-bass female-rap sound of the ’80s (there’s more of that on this amazing Peanut Butter Wolf compilation). Kanye West is on the lead track, though I have to confess to suffering from slight Kanye overload at the moment (it’ll pass, I’m sure).

P.M. Dawn, The Best of P.M. Dawn: P.M. Dawn existed in that strange, brief instant in the ’90s where artists were trying to mash up millions of different styles with hip-hop to see what took (a trend that also delivered the totally underrated Lucas with the Lid Off, as well as Arrested Development and Us3). I seriously cannot imagine anyone dropping a track like “Set Adrift on Memory Bliss” now and not being laughed into oblivion. Although, R&B artist Lloyd samples that same Spandau Ballet song, so what do I know? See for yourself.

Fields of Industry, Two Dogs, A Television: Plaintive, dreamy slowcore lit-up by guitar arpeggios and tucked in by hushed, whispery vocals. Truly lovely.

Peter Moren, The Last Tycoon: Solo record from 1/3 of Peter, Bjorn & John, this is a bit folkier and more ruminative than the pop nuggets he turns out with his two partners. In other words, it’s more Peter, Paul & Mary than Peter, Bjorn & John.

Pinker Tones, Wild Animals: More charming chaos from beloved style-mashers Pinker Tones. This one zig-zags from salsa to lounge to synthpop and back again. It’s hard to predict where this record will end up, but that’s part of the charm.

Indian Jewelry, Free Gold!: Long live the drone. Doomy, druggy record from Houston noiseniks eschews traditional melody for buckets of buzz, blissed-out vocals, and about 765 pounds of guitars. A must for fans of sitting cross-legged and staring deep, deep, deep into a white wall. That is not a dis in the least.

Indiana Jones & the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull Soundtrack: Cannot resist the temptation to make an “Indy Rock” joke. So, there. Now that that’s out of my system: it’s Indiana Jones! How can you not at least download the “Raiders March”?

Altar Boys, Forever Mercy, Altar Boys, Gut Level Music: Two more for my fellow ex-church kids: the Altar Boys started out as a punk band, but gradually evolved until they sounded something like late-period Replacements/Paul Westerberg. These two (along with the two solo records by frontman Mike Stand) are probably their finest hours. The religious stuff is upfront and a little tough for me personally to take at times, but if you can get past that, the songs here (especially “Forever Mercy”) are definitely solid and hooky as hell. Or heaven.

This is very, very long, so tomorrow: a few more notables, and I’ll do a roundup of all the insanely good reggae that showed up in the last day or two. By tomorrow, there will probably be even more.