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Wear your wack slacks. No cob nobblers allowed.
everybody’s doing it
So I’ve been thinking for a while now — ever since the Sony drop, really — about adding a new ‘feature type’ to our roster of features (’About the Album,’ ‘Who Is…,’ ‘Six Degrees,’ etc) that would be called ‘In Defense Of…’ Pretty much all of us in editorial genuinely like at least one straight-up Top 40 pop record, and some of us like more than one (I rep very hard for the last two Fall Out Boy records, the last Panic at the Disco record, anything My Chemical Romance, and assorted other pop artists).
I haven’t done this yet for a few reasons. First, I was afraid people would think we were being ‘ironic,’ and nothing makes my teeth ache more than smug irony about pop music. Secondly, and I’m speaking completely candidly here, I was worried people would think we were shilling. Which is closely connected to the first thought, actually — the idea that there is no way someone could seriously like, say, the Cassie record, and so there must have been some kind of weird deal that resulted in a feature on it.
But I can’t get away from the fact that I often find it very interesting to read writing on music that I may not especially like — or to read someone pointing out the merits of something I may have just dismissed out of hand. I (unfortunately) haven’t read it yet, but the premise of Carl Wilson’s lauded book on Celine Dion’s Let’s Talk About Love is that millions of people love this record, so there’s got to be something about it that’s attractive to them. Sean recently listened to the Susan Boyle record for the same reason: when something is culturally massive, and you’re at least passively interested in culture, it’s hard to just dismiss it out of hand.
Last night at the Knitting Factory in Brooklyn, Ted Leo & the Pharmacists celebrated the release of their Matador debut, The Brutalist Bricks, with a record release party that can only be described as epic, complete with vegan pizzas, bee-shaped pinatas, and blood.
The night was two-fold: First the band played through the new record in its entirety, and after a break headed back to the stage for live-band karaoke (24 songs!) sung by fans and members of the Matador/Beggars family. Among the artists covered were Misfits, AC/DC, Tears For Fears, Black Flag, B-52s, Kelly Clarkson and Fugazi. And a Ted Leo & the Pharmacists show wouldn’t be complete without tracks like “Timorous Me,” “Me and Mia,” “Where Have All The Rude Boys Gone?” and “Counting Down the Hours,” so fans covered those too. And even though some of his own songs were butchered, Leo just kept smiling and gave an encouraging “Yes!” at the end. What a guy.
na: UK round-up!
Via Lisa Kereszi
Because there are way too many new records this week! As I write, Sean is over in a corner rolling in a pile of them, laughing maniacally and hurling copies of Titus Andronicus’ The Monitor high into the air. Note: This is mostly a UK-only NA post, so apologies when/where not available elsewhere.
(image by ikewilson)
A HUGE day for new arrivals, so let’s get right to it. BTW: if you’re not following 17Dots on Twitter, we’d invite you to jump on. Every Tuesday morning is #realtimenewarrivals, with call-outs of the day’s hottest titles as we come across them. It’s also the spot to check in with eMusic’s editors and to get live updates from concerts — including this Friday’s surprise National show at Brooklyn’s Bell House, where they’ll be debuting songs from their upcoming record, High Violet. Join us today, right here.
And now, on to New Arrivals:
about the album: “the monitor”
Tomorrow sees the release of The Monitor, the eagerly-anticipated concept record from Titus Andronicus. Using the overarching metaphor of the Civil War to discuss feelings of emotional isolation, conflict of identity and personal heartbreak, Patrick Stickles has created a fascinating, flummoxing record that invites deconstruction by refusing easy answers. We had Matthew Fritch talk to Stickles for an About the Album feature for eMusic, and we thought we’d give you an early look at it here.
After the jump, Stickles talks Lincoln’s depression, the Glen Rock Inn, and the importance of Curb Your Enthusiasm.
Hey everyone! Laura Leebove here… I’m the new production editor at eMusic, so I’ll be posting on 17 Dots from time to time, as well as contributing some reviews and whatnot to the regular site. Before joining the eMusic team about a week ago (And what a week it has been! My head doesn’t know what to do with all this music!) I was freelancing full-time (aka broke), mostly writing for publications like Billboard, Spinner.com, Critical Mob, Under the Radar and Venus Zine. Feel free to stalk me on the Web here and here, if, for some reason, you are so inclined…
Some stuff I’ve been listening to lately: Owen Pallett’s Heartland (hands down my favorite record of the year so far), Anais Mitchell’s Hadestown (out next week on Righteous Babe — folk opera w/ vocals from Justin Vernon, Ani DiFranco, Ben from The Low Anthem, Greg Brown…), and, thanks to Joe, this fantastic Smiths-like debut LP from the Danish band Northern Portrait.
More important than any of that, though, is that last night I saw Mayer Hawthorne at Webster Hall — the first night of his U.S. tour — and, as expected, he was fantastic. This Michigan-born DJ-turned-soul singer’s debut LP, A Strange Arrangement, was one of my top records last year and while it’s almost a strictly Motown/soul set on record, it’s Hawthorne’s live shows that bring out a little more of his hip-hop background. Hawthorne (real name Drew Mayer Cohen) didn’t waste any time amping up the crowd: He and his band, known as The County, started with “Your Easy Lovin’ Ain’t Pleasin’ Nothin’,” an uncanny nod to the Supremes’ “You Can’t Hurry Love” and followed it up with “Make Her Mine” and “Maybe So, Maybe No.” Mixed in with his straight-up soul tracks was a cover of N.E.R.D.’s “Fly Or Die,” followed by “Green Eyed Love,” which broke into Biz Markie’s “Just A Friend.” Hawthorne’s best known track, “Just Ain’t Gonna Work Out,” was given the reggae remix treatment, and “The Ills” reminded everyone that despite all the crap happening in the world, everything is going to be OK, and Hawthorne made everyone believe it.
This guy is a charmer and it’s damn near impossible not to fall in love with him: Near the end of the set, he admitted that the whole touring-artist thing isn’t so much about the music — he actually just wants wants to go around the world and eat. “That’s love for me,” he said. Hey man, I think everyone is with you on that one.
So, as per a recent item on Pitchfork News, someone out there has opened a Wilco-themed sandwich shop.
We’ll give you a moment to let the implications of that settle in.
Honestly? Our immediate reaction, upon viewing the menu options at Toronto’s brand-new Sky Blue Sky Sandwich Company Ltd, was disappointment. Not because the “Outta Mind (Outta Sight)” doesn’t sound delicious– “a tasty new take on the classic ham and cheese with lightly toasted cinnamon bread, cream cheese and layered black forest ham” — but because THE PUNS, people. So many missed opportunities here! There is no “Ashes of American Cheese,” no “I Am Trying To Break Your Hummous.” If you’re REALLY going to open an indie-rock sandwich shop, you should at least capitalize on the literally INFINITE naming possibilities inherent in such a venture.
With that in mind, we immediately got to work thinking of other possible indie rock/delicatessen pairings. Below are a few opening shots — we fully expect you to shame us with your ideas in the comments section.
Brighten the Corned Beef
MGBLT
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Gyros
Codfish Kwassa Kwassa
My Bloody Roast Beef
Neon Indian Curry
The Pains of Being Ham On Rye
Pantha Du Parmesan
…And You Shall Know Us By Our Grainy Mustard
Florence and the Pastrami
Andddddd……….YOUR TURN!
new arrivals: more wmg
Unbelievable amount of New Arrivals today, many of them from the WMG family. Rather than doing an album-by-album play-by-play — which would take an epic amount of time — I’m gonna to do this mostly by genre and top-level artist, and let you guys fill in the blanks in the comments!
The Rock Picks:
Joy Division and New Order: I won’t dwell too long here, because I’ve said my piece in the reviews I wrote for the two Joy Divison records. Suffice it to say I think both Closer and Unknown Pleasures are perfect records. You can read me going bananas in the individual album reviews. New Order I like, if slightly less so. I love Power, Corruption and Lies and vary on the others (I’ve gotten through reviews of Movement, PCL and Low-Life — the rest will be trickled in over the course of the week).
The Smiths: Right now, all we have is the hits compilation — but what hits! A master class in pop songwriting (and newly remastered for this collection) Morrissey and Marr belong in the pantheon with McCartney and Lennon and McLennan and Forster. There is not a bad song on this collection, and if you’re unfamiliar, this is the place to start.
Dinosaur Jr: Dino Jr’s Warner years are dicey (there’s an Icon hub on the way), but I rep for Green Mind and Where You Been?. Pretty hard. Without A Sound had their first legitimate Alternative Nation Chart Hit (”Feel the Pain” — complete with golfing video!) but the drop was swift and steep thereafter.
Faith No More: The Real Thing and Angel Dust show up today, and both are untouchable.
Tori Amos: I can hear some of you snickering from here, but not so fast! Under the Pink is excellent, and will surprise some of you who think you don’t like Tori. With a creepy guest spot from then-boyfriend Trent Reznor on “Past the Mission,” Under the Pink is Tori’s certified goth-macabre record, loaded with great songs. Little Earthquakes is also somewhat unfuckwithable, as is Songs from the Choirgirl Hotel. You’re on your own after that.
Sam Phillips, Fan Dance: THIS RECORD IS EXCELLENT. Spare, haunting folk music topped with Phillips’ perfectly ruined voice. Highly, highly recommended.
Brian Wilson, Smile: Perhaps you know something about this? Wilson returned to the studio and completed legendary unfinished Beach Boys record — it’s pretty much a masterpiece. Let’s call it a middle-aged symphony to God.
Fountains of Wayne, Utopia Parkway: Power pop perfection, the high water mark for Adam Schlesinger, where every one of his formidable skills was firing at their peak.
Gallows, Grey Britain: Angry post-hardcore band throws down more bile on this excellent, and somewhat overlooked, follow-up to the (also excellent) Orchestra of Wolves. This one’s a grower — I dismissed it at first, but time (as it usually does) proved me the asshole.
Jim Carroll Band, Catholic Boy: THOSE ARE PEOPLE WHO DIED, DIED! THOSE ARE PEOPLE WHO DIED, DIED! THOSE ARE PEOPLE WHO DIED, DIED! THEY WERE ALL MY FRIENDS — AND THEY DIED!
King’s X: I used to really love this band. That may be all I have to say about this. I’m putting Faith, Hope & Love By King’s X back on my iPod. We’ll see how that works out.
The R&B Picks:
Otis Redding: Dock of the Bay, Live in Europe and The Dictonary of Soul, all in today, all astonishing. “Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa (Sad Song)” is maybe one of my favorite songs ever. And, good god, Live in Europe will blow your hair back. If you’re unfamiliar, your Otis education should start here.
Brandy, Afrodisiac: Say what you will, this record is great — mature, elegant, hypnotic in spots — I had this on constant repeat when it came out. The title track, especially, is a beautiful bit of computer love. I can’t wait to listen to this again later today.
Cassie, Cassie: Another excellent record — fans of odd, experimental, synth-heavy production, this one’s for you. Seriously. Her voice is tiny and lovely and it glides over the spare backing tracks perfectly. Whisper quiet and lovely: excellent modern pop.
The Hip-Hop Picks
Das EFX, Dead Serious: Oh my God how good is this record? Seriously, do yourself a favor, spend one credit on “Mic Checka.” Classic 90s hip-hop with that great, grainy production and mile-a-minute lyrics. I m-m-m-make the wonder twins de-ac-ti-vate.
Little Brother, The Minstrel Show: Contemporary classic of conscious hip-hop. I think I may be the only one in the dept who likes this but, hey, I like it.
Trick Daddy: I am very much a fan of Trick Daddy, and you may be, too. Talking Heads fans, take a listen to the song “Sugar” on Thug Matrimony and prepare for a little surprise.
International Picks:
Buena Vista Social Club: How have I still not seen this movie? The album that gave much-needed global exposure to the lively, vibrant conemporary Cuban music scene. It’s pretty much excellent.
Cateano Veloso, The Best of Caetano Veloso: The title doesn’t lie: stone classics from one of the inventors of Tropicalia.
Cham, Ghetto Story: Excellent modern reggae record recounting tough times in impoverished Jamaica. Will appeal to fans of old and new school (skews dancehall in places, very ‘digital-reggae’ in sound).
Dear Yann…Love, Barack
One way to tell that you’ve made it as a writer? The President sends you fan mail. Take a look at the sweet letter that Barack Obama sent to Yann Martell, author of Life of Pi. Click here! The novel is a Booker Prize-winning meditation on religion, philosophy and zoo animals. Oh, and it’s also a lot of fun to read and listen to. Take it from the First Family.
theyyy’re baaaack!
Pavement. Range Life. Auckland, New Zealand. First show on the reunion tour.
twin sister: live and gorgeous
Twin Sister: Fuzzy, like the music
Twin Sister are on the cusp of something. Hard to tell what that’s going to be–predicting the future on the sliding scale of indie success is a fool’s game we don’t play. They’re playing a gang of shows in and around New York in the next few weeks, then on to SXSW and Todd P’s Mexico bro-down, MtyMx. So brace yourself for the onslaught.
But most of it is well-earned because, God, do they make a beautiful, 4AD-style smear. Last night at Williamsburg’s Cameo Gallery the Brooklyn by way of Long Island (just like me!) quintet unfurled a gauzy, messy sound, equal parts Stereolab and Cocteau Twins, with a bit of oomph thrown in for good measure. Rolling through seven songs in less than 30 minutes, they conjured a loose, fragrant dream pop that occasionally dipped into driving rhythms. The bigger the sound got, the more it drowned out frizzy, wild-maned lead singer Andrea Estella (who’s got star written right on her forehead). They’re still a bit raw (as a friend pointed out, Estella sang through the in-house monitor burying her low, sensual burble of a voice) and the inevitable buzz might be a little early in the coming, but there’s something wonderfully ineffable about this group.
I’ve been wrapped up in their late 2008 EP, Vampires With Dreaming Kids, for months now and “I Want a House,” “the hit” as the kids say, was devastating live, a tumbling, touching mash note to moving in with the one you love. The band’s forthcoming EP, Color Your Life (get a glimpse of it here), is dropping in March via Infinite Best. So that’s nice.
By Jayson Greene
The esteemed Finnish composer Magnus Lindberg has traveled a long, itinerant path to his current post as composer-in-residence for the New York Philharmonic. After finishing his classical studies in the early 1980s, he found his attentions snagged by Japanese drumming and punk rock. He dabbled in musique concréte, added scrap-metal percussion and spoken-word to his orchestral works, and generally followed his wayward muse wherever it led him. If these disparate influences weren’t always immediately detectable in his craggy, immense orchestral music, there was no mistaking Lindberg’s questing, inquisitive spirit.
Though his music has softened subtly over the years, he clearly hasn’t lost his curiosity or forgotten how to find inspiration in unlikely sources. His latest piece, Graffiti, recently recorded for Ondine Records, is a massive work for chorus and orchestra that takes 2,000-year-old Pompeiian graffiti — in all its profane, quasi-philosophical, often-misspelled glory — as its text. In between rehearsals of his Clarinet Concerto with the NY Phil, Lindberg spoke at length to eMusic about the work, touching on the challenges of writing for voice for (almost) the first time ever, the thematic universality of graffiti, and having his first orchestral piece with an explicit-language warning.
(image by laurent p_ap)
A smattering of interesting titles today that I’ll call out quickly here. Above that, tho, I wanted to announce that we’ve officially resuscitated the too-long-dormant 17 Dots Twitter account. Though it’s been sporadically operational for the last few months (thanks mostly to Alex), we’re going to try to be a little more ’round-the-clock about it. I’ve even overcome my paralyzing fear of social media to contribute. I sent my first tweet ever from last night’s NYC Tanya Morgan show.
I mention this because we’re starting a new feature on the 17Dots Twitter: Real-Time New Arrivals. Every morning, as we comb through the new arrivals, we’ll post any interesting finds to Twitter as we find ‘em.
We’ll still be posting the roundup here, too, starting right now:
Holly Miranda, The Magician’s Private Library: I love this thing, but I also loved This Mortal Coil, early Dead Can Dance and the first Lush record. And I have Lonely is An Eyesore on 2xLP. Yeah, I was a popular kid in high school. No big deal. Holly Miranda and Dave Sitek team up to make eerie, moody pop songs — that black & white cover is no joke. This is some stark ghost music right here.
Fang Island, Fand Island: p-clark rightly calls out the giddy debut from Fang Island. Bruising guitars, bratty vocals and lovely harmonies — trash-pop in the best possible way.
Charades, Revolucion Solar: Molly pointed this one out and I’m glad she did: playful, female-fronted indie pop recalls all that was right about Tiger Trap and Heavenly. I was sold from the first sample.
April Smith & the Great Picture Show, Songs for a Sinking Ship: I have a real soft spot for April Smith, though I wish she’d gone with a different album cover. These are the kinds of songs Fiona Apple would have written if she made music in the 1930s. Trivia: Smith wrote the song “Terrible Things” with the show Dexter in mind. If there is a Showtime Executive reading this: this song is perfect for a promo.
the Som Livre label: Well, this is gonna require some digging. Brazil’s mega-label Som Livre has blessed us with an odd cross-section of stuff, some of which sounds awesome, some of which sounds less so. Plus side: there is a band on this label called Brazilian Octopus. It almost doesn’t matter that they’re basically easy listening. Brazilian Octopus, man!
High on Fire, Snakes for the Divine: HIGH ON FIRE RETURN and not a moment too soon. Haven’t gotten to listen to this one yet, but samples sound satisfyingly brutal, even if the album cover looks like leftover Meat Loaf.
Jawbreaker, 4/30/96 and Etc: Gone-too-soon scrappers Jawbreaker bless us with two items from their catalog, with more to come in the future. The first is a document of their final live show, the latter an odds-n-ends comp, both of which a) make me nostalgic and 2) find Jawbreaker still head and shoulders above their rivals. God, I miss this band. Jawbreaker/Promise Ring Coachella 2012? MAKE IT HAPPEN.
Clem Snide, The Meat of Life: 7th album from Clem Snide. eMusic’s Peter Blackstock sez:
“Punched in the heart, in the throat, in the kneecaps too” is the opening line of The Meat Of Life — fair warning that Clem Snide’s seventh album will deal predominantly with various trials and tribulations of romantic relationships. Appropriately enough, three of the 13 tracks are named after specific women (“Denise,” “Anita,” “Song For Mary”), who may or may not have been real-life inspirations for Clem Snide songwriter Eef Barzelay. Elsewhere, the focus shifts from people to places: “I Got High” discusses goings-on in Normal, Illinois, and it’s immediately followed in the track-sequence by “Denver,” about yet another heartache in another faraway town. The common thread throughout is the band’s effortless indie-rock tunefulness; piano plays as much of a role as guitar in shaping Clem Snide’s sound, which gravitates toward moody spells and swells.
She & Him, “In the Sun”: New She & Him single. Not my thing, but that doesn’t much matter since it’s a whole lot of other people’s thing. This one sounds a little lusher than what I heard of the last one.
Efterklang, Magic Chairs: Latest from Efterklang. eMusic’s Andy Battaglia is all:
Efterklang is a Danish band that makes parade music for people who like French horns and Twin Peaks. Or maybe it’s a shifty post-rock outfit with a soft spot for high harmonies and orchestral drum rolls. Or maybe it’s a string group with a mind for all the things that can make decorous strings sound purposeful and raw. Or maybe… Maybe Efterklang is all of the above, with lots more left to sift through still. Parts of it sound as soft and doe-eyed as Sufjan Stevens, but then parts of it roil with some of the heat and friction of bands like Frightened Rabbit.
Bambu, …Paper Cuts…: No idea who this guy is, but this sounds like some extremely solid throwback rap. He’s got a great, bouncy flow, and the beats are spry enough to propel him from one syllable to the next. I’m having a hard time finding much hip-hop that resonates with me so far this year, but this one sounds like a keeper.
French Cowboy, (isn’t my bedroom): Man, I don’t know who the hell this is, but it sounds fascinating. Weirdo minimal pop, some of it with a small backing chorale. The songs pull weird sounds from all over the place, and the French Cowboy himself has got a basso profundo croon. I am wondering if this is the same French cowboy from Innerspace. Was he French? Are Jayson and I the only ones who saw Innerspace? THE WORLD DEMANDS ANSWERS.
The New Dress, Where Are Failures Are: I haven’t listened to this in full yet, but the samples seem OK: bratty, guitar-powered indiepop, guy/girl vocals, charming and ramshackle in that old-skool K Recs kinda way.
Shake Some Action, Fire and Ice: Nice, unassuming modest jangle-pop from a band called Shake Some Action. Warning: this does not sound like the Flamin’ Groovies — it sounds like older R.E.M., the dB’s and Aztec Camera. Which, come to think of it, for some of you might also be a warning.
Parenthetical Girls, Privilege, Pt. 1: First part of an EP song cycle that sounds perpetually 16, clumsy and shy — like so many music fans I know.
So Cow, Meaningless Friendly: Smartass Irish band sound like the Lucksmiths with muscles. And I used the Lucksmiths, because they’re the only other good band from Ireland. I am an idiot. The Lucksmiths are from Australia. There are no good bands from Ireland.
Quasi, American Gong: OK, first things first: has anyone else notice that Quasi’s masterpiece Featuring “Birds”, doesn’t seem to be available digitally? What’s up with that? Anyway: American Gong finds Sam & Janet pissed, which is exactly how I like ‘em. eMusic’s Chris Weingarten goes:
American Gong is a completely different Quasi — none of the demented piano-pop of When The Going Gets Dark or smeary indie-jangle of Hot Shit — this is their debut as a big, ugly, crunchy, old-time rock ’n’ roll band. Much, like Sleater-Kinney’s The Woods, R.E.M.’s Accelerate, or the entire Thermals catalog, this is the indie-rock version of wearing your old denim jacket, embracing the big dumb riffs you loved as a teen, but injecting them with an adult’s cynicism.
Butch Walker, I Liked it Better When You Had No Heart: New one from power pop tunesmith Butch Walker — dude knows his way around a melody, and his endless collaboration with Top 40 chart-toppers is further proof of his knack for a hook. His solo stuff is significantly less-varnished than his work with, say, Katy Perry, and would probably appeal to fans of Army/Navy and Sloan.
Alan Licht & Loren Conners, Into the Night Sky: Lovely new mood piece from sometime eMusic contributor Alan Licht sounds gorgeous and moody.
tinariwen: live in brooklyn
(photo by jewelley)
“Does it sound alright?” That was the question asked, over and over, by Abdallah Ag Alhousseyni, one of the two guitarists for the Saharan rock band Tinariwen from the stage of Brooklyn’s Bell House Friday night. He was concerned, perhaps, that his band’s music — hardly anyone’s idea of flashy or ostentatious — was being poorly received by the crowd, many of whom were standing stock still, staring slackjawed at the stage.
He needn’t have worried: if the crowd was motionless, it was probably because they were hypnotized. Such is the effect of Tinariwen’s deliberate, transfixing music. On their last two records — 2007’s Aman Iman and last year’s Imidiwan — Tinariwen crafted songs that favored a measured approach and tight swipes of guitar. The group sprang from tumultuous origins: after seeing his father slain by invaders, frontman Ibrahim Ag Alhabib and his family relocated to Algeria where, at the age of 20, he taught himself to play guitar and joined forces with other local musicians to create roiling, politically-informed music. Though the group has been around for nearly 30 years, Tinariwen first sprung to international prominence after a riveting performance at 2001’s Festival in the Desert where they were spied and lauded by, among others, Robert Plant.
If that performance was in any way similar to Friday’s Brooklyn show, it’s easy to see why Plant was so enraptured. Tinariwen seem to have the ability to stop time, working repeated chord patterns and rhythms over and over until they blur into a mighty, trembling whole. It was not entirely dissimilar to krautrock: the rhythm section, just bass and hand-slapped floor percussion, locked into a steady groove early, providing a sturdy undercarriage above which the group’s two guitarists, Alhouseeyni and the wild-haired, wild-eyed Alhabib, crafted a dreamlike latticework. Though the playing is intricate, the combined effect feels not so much like fretboard pyrotechnics as it does a steady, insistent chug. Sometimes that chug built to delirious ecstasy, and the songs were lit ablaze by the giddy ululations of Wonou Wallet Sidati, the group’s female vocalist. Live, the songs had a striking severity: Alhabib rarely smiled, and the low groans that comprise their vocal melodies felt harrowing and stark. And though it took them a song or two to get going (perhaps not coincidentally, Alhabib didn’t join the band onstage until song number three), by the evening’s midpoint they were soaring. The songs were so stunning and so circular that each one felt eternal — in the best possible sense. It was as if they were always existing, Tinariwen just tuned into them for 11 or 12 minutes at a time before releasing them, leaving anyone within earshot utterly spellbound.
In other words: yes, it sounded just fine.
oh my god the new sigh record
We got this a month ago, but I am somehow just getting around to listening to it now and, oh my god, the new Sigh record is throwing me into all kinds of ridiculous, excited spasms.
I mean, good god, where the hell do I even start with this thing? By saying it just knocked Beach House out of my personal “Best of the Year So Far” top slot? By talking about how every time I play it I need to physically calm myself down, because I am overcome by how completely fucking awesome it is? By talking about how I am a hairsbreadth away from physically forcing people to sit and listen to this with me? How I may have actually just done that to a fellow eMusic employee?
OK, lemme start over:
Sigh are a Japanese metal band who skew theatrical. How theatrical? Every song is fully orchestrated — not just strings, man, oboes, trumpets, flutes. You thought you knew bombast? Friend, you do not know bombast until you listen to Sigh. “The Soul Grave” opens with an organ flourish, then divebombs into rotary-saw black metal riffs before, good god, a full-on orchestral fanfare kicks in, sounding like a Dead Pirate’s Imperial March — stern, determined, swooping upward and downward while vocalist Mirai Kawashima does the full-on black metal demonic growl over top. There are two songs with “Funeral” in the title — “The Red Funeral” is the lemmings-marching-toward-the-cliff soldier death dance, complete with processional snare while “The Summer Funeral,” belying the sunniness of the title, creeps and crawls, stomping horns crashing down like anvils and, two minutes in, a Hitchcock-movie piano arrives to signal the beginning of your end. It’s like, say you went to high school in hell, and it was time for your Spring Concert — this is what you’d be playing.
It’s pompous and puff-chested and a tiny bit ridiculous — but ridiculous in the best way possible. It’s forward-thinking and inventive and surprising, and there hasn’t been a second over the last 24 hours I haven’t felt like listening to it. And if all that’s not enough, I quote the following bit of trivia from Sputnik Music’s 5-star review of the record:
Scenes from Hell continues the band’s enigmatic nature with the addition of Dr. Mikannibal. A real life Ph.D currently working at the US National Laboratory, Dr. Mikannibal is also known for her propensity on the (alto) saxophone, her bellowing growl and her peculiar habits, which include recording topless and casually dining on everything from bull penis to cockroaches.
Download now, thank me later.
na: shearwater, field music
Later today than usual, but the new stuff is here in force….let’s go through some of it together!
Shearwater, The Golden Archipelago – Newest from art-pop’s premiere ornithologists. We already gave you a sample Melissa Maerz’s review last week, so I’ll leave you with Maris’s succinct summation: “It’s like Rook, except better.”
Field Music, Field Music (Measure) – The Sunderland brothers are back, and they’re going for it big time, with a sprawling double album. eMusic’s Michaelangelo Matos sez:
Peter and David Brewis, the brothers who co-lead Sunderland, England’s Field Music, seem to hear in widescreen while thinking in miniature. It’s what gives Field Music (Measure) its appeal: songs like “All You’d Ever Need to Say” or “Them That Do Nothing” reflect a principled approach to lyric writing and melody making — nothing too flashy, nothing you wouldn’t want to stand behind, lest it make you look like Gene Simmons or something — nestled into unapologetically meaty guitar hooks.
Excepter, Presidence – The latest warped, tribal mind-fuck from Brooklyn’s psych-proggers. This one sounds like one long smear of beatless, grooveless atmosphere to me — I’m going to move on.
Local Natives, Gorilla Manor – The recently BNM‘ed L.A. band hits the US site.
Declaime, SomeOthaShip – Dudley Perkins and Georgia Anne Muldrow collaborate on a woozy, freaked-out boho-rap album, with production from Black Milk, Flying Lotus (!), and Oh No, and guest raps from Kool G Rap, Oddissee, Big Pooh, and others. This sounds fantastic.
Alborosie, Escape from Babylon – Some killer reggae for your bleak February.
Various Artists, Reggae Anthology: Henry “Junjo” Lawes – Volcano Eruption – Aaaaand more killer reggae for your bleak February.
Angus and Julia Stone, Black CrowSome nicely hushed and weary-sounding country/folk from Nettwerk Records.
Clem Snide, You Were A Diamond – Ramshackle and raw first album from Clem Snide. Very pretty.
Georgia Anne Muldrow, Kings Ballad – And…another Georgia Anne Muldrow record? This woman is not fucking around. Keep your third eye open, Erykah.
Eat Skull, Jerusalem – Dirty, dirty lo-fi grunge psych on Siltbreeze. Like, scurvy-and-rickets dirty.
Crusaders of Love, Never Grow Up – Beefy, real-deal power-pop riffs, a la The Boys or In the Red Records. If you dug Bad Sports, check it out.
The Art Museums, Rough Frame – New from Woodsist — tiny, birds-egg fragile little indie-pop songs tufted with fuzz and cruddy distortion. For fans of Television Personalities or cause Co-Motion!
Overnight Lows City Of Rotten Eyes – Spazzy, itchy-footed pogo-punk from Goner Records.
Robert Pollard, We All Got Out of the Army – More scraps from Uncle Bob’s bottomless song chest.
Reverend Douglas Bell, The Stage Cruisers – Fantastic-sounding, dirty juke-joint-infused gospel. As earthy as any Otis Redding/Steve Cropper workout.
Wu Tang, Mathematics Presents Return of the Wu Friends – Another in a long, long line of Wu knock-offs brings a dependable amount of uncut-and-raw Wu to keep heads from dismissing it completely. These guys have not lost their ability to play directly and shamelessly to their lifer fanbase.
Vasaeleth, Crypt Born and Tethered to Ruin — Gut-rumbling, subterranean grindcore that doesn’t even seem to vary in tempo or dynamics –it just churns and pounds endlessly, with vocals that okay, I know this is metal and accepted genre traits and all that, but that seriously just do not sound human. Not even cookie-monster-core here; whatever is vocalizing on this came from somewhere lower than Hell and probably reeks of sulfur and decay.
Trayer, One Over Zero – Dank, clammy electronic music, full of vertiginously swooping pitch bends that punctuate the gloom with unreal little light shafts.
Son Lux, Weapons EP – New from anticon — a gorgeous, fevered wash of ripe, late-Romantic strings that gets all kinds of different remix treatments, including one from indie-classical golden boy Nico Muhly.
Soul Jazz Orchestra, Rising Sun — Rollicking, sultry, and full-bodied jazz-funk.
Motion Turns It On, Kaleidoscopic Equinox – Nicely freaked out, sinewy math-rock madness scarred with digital noises for an extra dash of abrasiveness.
Dr. Dog, Shadow People – New single from eMusic’s favorite purveyors of earnest, bouncy 60s pop.
What about you?
The Jersey boys from Real Estate make a dawdling kind of rock, all loping chords and stray melodies that weave in and out of consciousness (that’s right, these melodies possess sentience.) Beneath the band’s burbling but bright sound lies Alex Bleeker’s sturdy basslines. They are the stiff back, low in the mix but necessary. They organize and contain what could become a wayward mess. Bleeker (that’s him seated above) and his band, The Freaks, is basically Real Estate in reverse. Guitarist Matt Mondanile plays drums here and frontman Martin Courtney IV is on bass, while fellow Jersey-ian (-ite? -ist? -er?) Julian Lynch handles guitar duties. But there is nothing particularly guided about this band, either. They are on their own time, extending songs past five minutes, chugging out solos and then disappearing like that. Alex Bleeker and the Freaks was released in a limited run last fall, just in time to catch a glimmer of phony lo-fi praise, but Real Estate’s in-house label, Underwater Peoples, was only recently added at eMusic, and so it’s here now.
And what a gorgeous record it is, distilling the best parts of (go with me on this) the Grateful Dead—pastoral, high drama guitar work—with achingly faithful odes to Neil Young and Crazy Horse. Their cover of Mountain Man’s “Animal Tracks,” all singed solos and pitched-off falsetto, is like a long lost track from Zuma. “Common Sense” is a high-strung country ballad, too Eastern to draw comparisons to the crucial ’70s symphonies of pain by Willie Nelson, but similarly devoid of hope or esteem. “I hope this isn’t my last chance,” Bleeker sings, before a torrent of reverbing guitar cranes down. The opening dyad, “Summer > Epilogue,” grazes for three minutes, building steam before unfurling something bolder and fuller. It’s the best thing here.
What Alex Bleeker and The Freaks has in common with Real Estate’s far more acclaimed debut from last year is an ethic. (Well, that and three members and a sonic palette and a label and a hometown.) But this album, like Real Estate, is glacial in the unhurried way suburban life always seems to be. There is nothing frantic about residential New Jersey, so little seems to be on the line on a day-to-day basis. Soloing, stretching, luxuriating in the sound is encouraged because, really, what else are you gonna do with your time? Go spend some of yours with this.
This coming Tuesday sees the release of the new Shearwater record, The Golden Archipelago. Here’s eMusic’s Melissa Maerz with an idea of what to expect.
Shearwater
The Golden Archipelago
[Matador]
Release Date: 16 February 2010
An explorer, ecologist, and folk hero, Jonathan Meiburg is the Jacques Cousteau of indie-rock. A former graduate student with a specialty in geography and ornithology, the Shearwater frontman named both his Austin, Texas-based band and their critically-acclaimed 2008 album Rook after types of birds, and his gorgeously pastoral music examines nature with a scientist’s eye.
Inspired by research Meiburg conducted everywhere from the Galapagos to a remote Aboriginal community in northern Australia, The Golden Archipelago is a vivid illustration of the isolation of island life. The opening track begins with an eerie incantation of Bikini Atoll’s national anthem, sung by exiled Bikinians evacuated from their homeland after the staging of nuclear bomb tests. Over a delicate interlay of piano, brass and string instruments, Meiburg pays further tribute to their memories in “Meridian” and “God Made Me,” two chilling tales of “the roar in the sky… and the flames that fall / like fireflies.”
But where there’s terror, there’s also wonder: on the percussion-heavy ballad “Landscape at Speed” and the music-box waltz “Hidden Lakes,” Meiberg finds himself awed by the secret worlds of plants and animals. Singing in a fragile falsetto about long-lost native communities and the flora and fauna that’s grown in their stead, he’s written a celebration of life — both the kind we’ve largely left behind, and the kind that goes on without us.
Relatively light day on the new release front – just a few things I want to shout out, so please feel free to call out some other titles in the comments!
