Way back when I remember raving on here about Teengirl Fantasy, this young dreamy DJ duo who had a single that Alex and I really loved. And by God we still stand behind that. But the praise that I gave to Teengirl I really should have reserved for Memory Cassette, a far superior group in a similar style out of New Jersey. They’ve gotten a bit of Pitchfork love of late and are starting to bubble as a result, but the music still bests the hype. Their Call & Response EP is absolute magic. It’s cinematic and wistful and just a bit druggy, too. If you liked Air’s Virgin Suicides score, you will love this. (That got your attention!)

All four songs on Call & Response are spectacular, but opener “Surfin” is particularly so. It’s effortless, ’80s disco dream-pop that just glides and charms. “Body in the Water” is a bit more opaque — more mood piece than pop song — and completely immersive. “Asleep at the Party” might be the best of all. The female vocals are a bit more assertive than usual, and the swooping keyboard strings almost burst with their intensity. And finally, “Last One Awake” is maybe the weakest here, but it’s still fantastic. Just a bit more twinkling than I typically go for. Anyway, download this!

Ida No and Cameron Mesirow are two of our finest divas, Ida the haunted voice behind Glass Candy, Cameron performing as Glasser, a hypnotizing project out of Los Angeles that we’ve been championing since last fall. On Saturday night both played in Brooklyn — Glass Candy in a bowling alley, Glasser in a DIY space — and I caught them back to back.

I hadn’t seen Glass Candy since their punk Love Love Love days. And yeah their sound changed drastically from that raw cacophony to Beatbox’s disco, but all the underlying stuff is the same: Glass Candy are about attitude, a detached hedonism.

On stage it’s just Ida No — leopard spandex clinging her legs, perfect bangs falling just right — and keyboardist/collaborator Johnny Jewel — shirt unbuttoned like retro Eurotrash. Ida prances and shakes, a confident dancer with a lean body. Johnny milks the backing tracks with dramatic dances and exaggerated playing. Together they project competence and confidence.

Ida No’s voice is not the best on-stage, and only the really good songs — like “Candy Castle” — truly shine. There were highlights, but overall it was a bit dull.

It was my second time seeing Glasser, the first at this past SXSW where she blew me away. At Saturday’s Glasslands performance she was backed by Tanlines, a duo who have done incredible remixes of her tracks and some other people’s, too. Most of the music was backing track (some occasional guitar accompaniment and some percussive melodies), and so Cameron Mesirow, prowling across the small stage, was the entire show.

Mesirow has a flexible voice not all that unlike Bjork’s, though she uses hers in different ways. It’s an excellent voice, and it comes through live much more so than on record. She’s a good performer, too. She’s constantly dancing and moving, her steps deliberate and lunging. Most of the time she sings with her face to the ground.

She is no shrinking violet, and she’s confident of her ability. Her songs twinkle and shudder, but there’s real heft. The arrangements are very spare and the rhythms are often vaguely Caribbean. Her voice dangles above.

“Apply,” which was on our eMusic Selects compilation earlier this year, was a standout, but I was disappointed that with Tanlines on-hand they didn’t perform their remix of the track, which is maybe her best moment so far. “Glad,” a very delicate, pillowy song of hers, didn’t translate live, but it’s still a longtime favorite.

The crowd for Glasser was small, but her potential is still there. Signed to True Panther Sounds (the label that will be releasing the Girls album), hopefully a debut album will come soon.

Doesn’t look much like a deep house maverick, does it? Something about Walter Jones, the guy, and the hauntingly perfect single he’s just released, I’ll Keep On Loving You, doesn’t seem to add up.

The ho-hum, could-be-your-postman name. The hometown (New Orleans — not exactly a dance music mecca). The fact Jones has been making music for around 20 years and has (according to Discogs) a total of six singles, including this one.

And, of course, all of this is before you find out that the breathy, spaced-out vocals on both tracks of Loving You don’t come from a trilling, hired diva, but from Jones himself. Bathed in reverb, on maximum falsetto, but Jones nonetheless. I replayed each track several times when I read about the vocals and it remains somewhat astonishing each time. He burrows under self deprecation when talking about the process — he “added lots of reverb to disguise my horrible singing voice” and it “ended up [being] a really bad impression of Curtis Mayfield’s falsetto” — but the results are undeniable.

“Living Without Your Love,” the b-side, is what initially won me over. The stuttering vocal, the pillowy synths, the almost-funky programming. It’s really the vocal melody that cinches it, though — an immediate earworm that I’ve been singing in my head (and out loud in the hallways around eMusic HQ when I don’t catch myself) on a loop for the past few weeks.

Loving You has been repeatedly described as “lo-fi,” but it’s all relative of course. Some of the tinniness of the drums and the ocean-deep reverb might sound dollar-store to a Resident Advisor regular used to an (on average) more polished and precise production aesthetic, but this isn’t Wavves-gone-disco or anything. “Living” especially feels diffuse and totally airy and, ultimately, just fucking beautiful.

Even if you’re a dance music dabbler, it’s absolutely worth investigating Walter Jones’ surprisingly homespun and lush take on nu-disco.

Every now and then a record shows up on the site with little warning, and gets lost in the onslaught of bigger titles with more cache or cred. Do not let Reichmann’s Wunderbar be that record — especially if you have a soft spot for the B-Side of David Bowie’s Low or moodier Kraftwerk or any of Brian Eno’s ambient/electronic works.

Sonically, this record is a marvel. It came out in 1978, so you can imagine what it might sound like: weird, wispy electronics, very “cold” and “Germanic,” Reichmann occasionally augmenting his icicle-like synths with hummed vocal melodies. There’s a genuinely creepy vibe to this record: the synthesizers sound like lost, lonely ghosts, and the whole thing seems set in some weird, dead futureworld, one where everything is made of metal, it’s always nighttime, and the roads are full of flat, gleaming cars that whizz by quietly, purposefully. Imagine the cities that dotted the movie TRON and you’re getting close.

Like all great lost records, this one has a backstory: Reichmann was a member of Spirits of Sound Group with Neu!’s Michael Rother and Kraftwerk’s Wolfgang Flühr (which explains a bit why his album recalls the work of both). Wunderbar was set to be his official solo entre into the burgeoning electronic music scene, but his career was cut short when he was tragically stabbed to death two weeks before the album’s release.

I can’t recommend this record enough. It’s not really an “electronic” record — it’s more new wave. It’s melodic — minor-key melodic — and has a strange, unsettling quality that’s hard to shake. Take a spin through the samples and see what you think.

You can read a bit more about it here. Highly recommended!

I don’t know how long it’s been since I have posted something, but as I have noticed a distinct lack of electronic music chatter here lately I figured it was high time.  Here are a few records that have been killing me lately.

Telemetrik: My Lightyear – This very well may have become my all time favorite drum n bass record of all time.  It’s melodic, technical and absolutely filthy.  It makes me miss the Seattle drum n bass scene sooo much.  Be sure to grab the sampler too, they are actually the first two tracks of the album and for some weird reason got delivered separately.

Speaking of drum n bass, pick up the Spor remix on this single by The Qemists.  It’s a freakin sick track and actually directly responsible for leading me to the Telemetrik record.

Trifonic: Emergence - If you dig Hybrid or BT you need this record in your collection.   The vocal tracks are somewhat unnecessary (but not as irritating as some of BT’s later poppy stuff), but I forgive them because the rest is so stunning.  Oh, and the video for Parks on Fire?  It will absolutely melt your brain.  Watch it in full screen.

Another quick related aside, BT’s new single just dropped a few days ago.  I dig it.  You probably only need the first track though, I felt most of the remixes were pretty forgettable.

Freeland:  Cope™ – This one might actually be closer to a rock record, and therefore more palatable to some of the casuals.  It feels a bit done before, but there is still something about Freeland’s stomp box electro production that manages to keep my attention.  I can’t gush about this one as much as my other selections, but it’s a solid record and worth a mention.

It ain’t summer yet, at least in New York. Today, it’s not even very spring-like — although I suppose April showers are part of the deal. Point is, if you’ve got any glum residue left, any room in your psyche for a few more ruminative, mournful, moody, drippy musical moments, then I have the album you need to hear. For at least the next few days before it’s all reggaeton-from-jeeps and jumpy BBQ jams.

That record — this record — is called Treny. Polish producer Michael Jacaszek is the mastermind behind Treny, a record so distinguished amongst the ambient/neo-classical glut that Boomkat nearly passed out dishing out praise. There is an undeniable spookiness here, layered in and heavy like a weird mist of unnerving sound: sparse, creaking strings; ethereal, operatic vocals (deep and resonant, but not show-y); panning, submerged harp and piano; subtly glitched electronic shifts. These elements have appeared elsewhere, sure, but the construction (and delicate destruction) of the sound on Treny makes this one of the most affecting and beautiful records I’ve heard, of any genre.

This is way, way more dynamic than almost any ambient I’ve heard; it’s not weightless, idle music. Somehow Treny ends up being stark without being boring, beautiful without being cloying, “interesting” without being “difficult” (loaded, I know). It is also very, very hard to describe without either sounding, a) confusing; b) like a blowhard. (Can’t you tell?)

Before the rays come destroy our dour little party, check the album out here.

NOTE: The Miasmah label, which released Treny, has also given us a handful of other likeminded shroud-core (couldn’t resist!). So far, the Rafael Anton Irisarri album in particular has sounded very nice.

He makes it soooooo easy. When someone is this good at this many things — and things so wide-ranging in scope, you can’t help but be shocked in spite of yourself — it’s damn near impossible not to tumble down the rabbit hole.

The Arthur Russell story is well-chronicled amongst music obsessives, the gist being: quiet Iowan cellist moves to New York, takes the downtown scene by storm with his eccentric, virtuosic take on everything from avant-classical to leftfield disco to folk to no-wave. He works occasionally behind-the-scenes (endlessly tweaking and twiddling longform dance singles under pseudonyms like Loose Joints and Indian Ocean) and often front-and-center (most affectingly on the World of Echo tapes, which are stark: just Russell’s cello and vocals, heavily processed).

It’s a compelling body of work, even just to an appreciator of things; even viewed through the myriad non-musical prisms Russell touched: art, theater, experimental culture. The music, though, more than impressing people (which it tends to do no matter what), has the capacity to be loved by almost everyone. Not an easy task for an experimental composer at heart.

Some key, errr… keys to Arthur Russell accesibility:

Breadth: If you don’t love the wonky, wobbly, crisp disco of 24-24 Music or “Is It All Over My Face?“, chances are you will love the sometimes-hushed, sometimes-rollicking country-folk of Love is Overtaking Me. If not, then surely a record of mysterious and toweringly beautiful just-cello-and-vocals. Or the sample-heavy, weird rock-not-rock of Calling Out of Context. You see where I’m goin’ with this.

Tone: This stuff, as off-kilter as it can seem at times, still sounds great to this day. I really think Russell’s vocals are an overlooked element of his appeal/greatness. He has this incredible timbre (kind of shooting in the dark here in the land of technical-ness) — like he’s somehow singing from the top of his mouth. It’s got a sticky, resonant, very expressive and, dare I say… emotional tone.

Singularness: Clunky, I know. But seriously, even the diggin-est of all diggers would be hard pressed to find anyone who does it quite like Arthur. It’s the amalgamation of source material, songwriting quirk, odd instrumentation and plain old obsessive tinkering: 1,000,000 monkeys working 1,000,000 years couldn’t…

Of course there’s the myth (new/newly unearthed material is regularly being compiled these days), but really at the heart of it: this is wholly unique, wholly engaging, inspired and inspiring music. As for where to start… if you ask me, anywhere, really:

Arthur Russell on eMusic
Dinosaur L on eMusic

Well it’s a bit misleading to say “first” — I’ve been listening on and off to the promo of the newest Junior Boys LP for a month or so. But it’s still with a set of fresh ears that I try to form an opinion of this very clean, very understated, mostly unassuming record.

First of all, if you haven’t read eMusic’s Michaelangelo Matos’ review, head over to the album page now. He’s already beat me to the punch on the unassuming-ness here — Begone ditches much (if not all) of the shiny big-chested vocal-pop moments of So This is Goodbye. The sound is more sleek and bleak, with sprawling track lengths and an incredibly crisp production lean (the synths tend to stab and squiggle rather than pitch up into a flourish). It’s still electro-pop, I suppose, and there are some delicious, candy moments: the sly funky boogie of “Bits & Pieces” and minimal new wave-lite of first single “Hazel” especially.

God do I hate saying “grower,” but… you know. I think the first couple of listens might cast Begone as a bit too chilly and faceless. People yearning for that skittering Johnny Dark production from the fake Timbaland/2-step days of Last Exit sure won’t be satisfied here and it doesn’t quite hit the High Highs of Goodbye (“In the Morning,” “Double Shadow”). There is a lot of bubbling beauty on this record, though: the sweeping lull of perfectly chintzy keys on “Sneak a Picture,” the slow-build swell of album ender “What It’s For.” These are the two longest tracks on Begone at about seven minutes a piece. It’s easy to get lost in the whooshing and swooshing (all sound, no fury?), but the cumulative effect reveals a sublimely beautiful drift.

A layered, subtle and flat out great-sounding record, it’s also an eMusic steal at eight tracks. No one quite does tasteful electronic pop like Junior Boys right now — it’s absolutely worth letting Begone unfurl it’s charms on you. I promise, it’ll happen.

Along with Hyperdub and Tectonic, Tempa rounds out the top triumvirate of genre-defining, classic-dropping dubstep labels. We’ve gotten Tempa releases on eMusic before, but today we got an unholy glut of releases in — a few of which are as essential as anything the genre has produced to date.

If you have even the slightest interest in the dark, wobbly corners of the dubstep sound, I wholeheartedly encourage you to head over to the Tempa label page and just dig in. But in the interest of lending a helping hand, here are key places to start from the batch of just-in titles.

Skream, Midnight Request Line: Dubstep’s first crossover. Maybe not crossed-over-onto-pop-radio crossed over, but the perfectly cascading synths and stuttering syncopation of “Midnight Request Line” certainly made the fresh-faced Skream a household name among anyone who fancies a bleep in their step. An absolute must.

D1, Missin’/Cocaine/Firin’ Blanks: “Cocaine,” already featured in the great Dubstep All-stars series (Vol. 3), is probably the winner here. A moody throb with some soft-pad synth and a seriously deep sub-bass pulse.

Skream, Skreamizm Vol. 1: First of Skream’s ongoing EP series. Worth it for “Lightning” alone, which is maybe the most propulsive dubstep song I’ve heard. It fucking barrels — none of the aimless shifting around that plagues a lot of the more pedestrian chaff of the genre.

Coki, Tortured/Shattered: Head straight for the b-side. “Shattered” is complete paranoia — it’s got this mutant bug zapper flange waves that come in and out, just to scare you I guess. Total madness.

There’s also a recent Benga EP, three more Skreamizms and some solid Headhunter singles. Basicallllly, a gold mine. Don’t miss it!

2009 marks Warp Records’ 20th year in business — a staggering achievement for anyone, and one all the more impressive considering the fickle taste of electronic music fans. But for Warp, they haven’t just adapted to the past two decades’ worth of faddish shifts and genre re-inventions: in many cases, they have led them. Certainly IDM would be nowhere without Warp, and everything from house to techno to ambient would be much poorer without its catalogue.

Today we are thrilled to unveil the first installment of Warp on eMusic. It’s starting small and it’s starting from the beginning, but there are so many amazing records here already. New to Warp? No worries! We’ve had some of the best electronic music writers — including, in a comeback appearance, Mr. Todd Burns! — write about their favorites from the catalogue. You can find those in our essentials hub.

Now some of course will wonder where the rest is. Can’t we have a day to enjoy ourselves? Seriously though, more is coming, just in little bits and batches. In fact, we’ll see the Grizzly Bear records come in next week. Not sure on the timing for the rest.

PS: You lucky Euros get Selected Ambient Works Vol. II as well!