Record of the Week

Yr 2 Wk 41 PDX's Choice: Pickwick-Can't Talk Medecine

Wed, 15 May 2013 15:45:00 -0400

“Listening to Pickwick reminds me of why I hate the music industry. Last year, we caught Pickwick’s set at Antone’s and Oz commented that lead singer Galen Disston’s voice was one of the best he’s heard in all our years at SXSW. Combined with a phenomenal band consisting of Michael Parker, Garrett Parker, Alex Westcoat,Kory Kruckenberg and Cassady Lillstrom that plays a soulful, R&B sound; its easy to see a record exec getting their hands on, overproducing them and ruining their sound.

If that happened, we would be robbed of one of America’s top up and coming bands. The band recorded the album in their living room and it shows. It was recorded on 1/2 inch tape on an 8 track and incorporates found sounds. The album has some bumps and bruises, and that adds to the aesthetic of the band. The bass line in the mesmerizing Lady Luck is the antithesis of the gorgeous vocals, it is fuzzy and a little meaty. But it doesn’t get in the way of Disston’s and Sharon Van Etten’s stunning, beautiful vocals. Its the contrast that makes song burn into your brain.

My favorite tunes from my previous go-rounds with this band tended to be the up-beat numbers that lit a charge under you. Hacienda Motel and The Round were pure bliss and could get a corpse to sit up and tap their feet. Those two find their way on Can’t Talk Medicine after being on the Myths EP. But the tune that’s been kicking my ass is Brother Roland. It is a bluesy R&B track that has Disston stretching out his chops. It is a fiery number with some top-notch organ work. This tune exemplifies the band’s dedication to keeping their music raw and unfettered. It gets up under you and claws right into your soul.”

Yr 2 Wk 41 Lily's Choice: Mikal Cronin MCII

Wed, 15 May 2013 15:15:13 -0400

P4K:

““Do I shout it out?/ Do I let it go?/ Do I even know what I’m waiting for?/ No, I want it now/ Do I need it, though?” Throughout MCII, Mikal Cronin gets in these ruts. His lyrics are delivered as someone who’s never fully sure of his next move and who’s completely unclear about his ambitions. He’s sure that he’s in love, but he keeps letting it slip away. Somehow, he keeps mucking up his day-to-day communication. It never used to be like this. He keeps talking about how time is getting away from him, which might be his way of acknowledging a crisis about getting older, though it’s just as likely that he’s accidentally spending hours clicking on YouTube videos. He wonders if he’s wrong. (He doesn’t think so.) He consistently has good intentions, but he’s inadvertently prone to choking on the follow-through. He sums up his turmoil pretty well in “See It My Way”: “I hear the song— I wanna sing along with you/ But when I try I’m out of tune/ I turn and walk away.” It’s a sweet and snappy sentiment from someone who’s ultimately out of sync. This is Cronin’s pop poetry for the aloof.

So it’s somewhat ironic that MCII is also his most fully realized, beautifully arranged, and well-crafted work to date. Since he’s spent the past year shredding for the masses in the Ty Segall Band, it’s easy to forget that he recently earned his B.F.A. in Music and learned how to compose for different instruments. He rightly noted that his education came in handy forhisMerge debut, which subs out some of the psych freakouts from his first album for string arrangements. K. Dylan Edrich, who recently contributed strings to Thee Oh Sees’ most recent two albums, lends her talents to a handful of songs, from the plaintive violin solo on “Peace of Mind” to the frantic viola on “Change”.

One of the most impressive things about MCII is how Cronin balances “power” and “pop”. He makes the “pop” part of the equation look effortless— in 10 songs, he offers 10 solid, catchy melodies. When it comes to “power,” he’s much more conservative than he’s ever been before— especially when you consider Slaughterhouse. There are entirely acoustic songs here that pretty well prove that he doesn’t need to rely on punk rock sludge. So when the tender stuff is over and he steps on the fuzz pedal, the effects are extremely satisfying.

Album closer “Piano Mantra”, for example, begins with a particularly fragile-sounding Cronin singing “I’m tired, I’m sick, I’m broke up.” Edrich’s strings are quietly introduced, then an acoustic guitar and some drums, and finally at the end, a feedback screech ushers in a distorted electric guitar. It doesn’t even take center stage or threaten to become the main attraction— it just adds a sturdy, noisy spine to Cronin’s formerly delicate ballad. Everything— strings, fuzz, slide guitar, etc.— is purposefully and carefully implemented. He uses the more muscular sounds to offset his bubblegum jangle, and while he did ask Ty Segall to lend a hand on the album, he only brought him on board for two guitar solos. Neither are very flashy— they’re well-placed bursts of power that complement the melody.

There’s one moment in particular that puts to rest any notion that Cronin is just a glorified garage sideman: “Don’t Let Me Go”, the only track Cronin recorded entirely by himself at home. It’s just him, his acoustic guitar, and his voice singing both the melody and harmony. With that skeletal structure, he loses the “I’m not sure what’s next or why I act like this” tone and gets straight to the point. He pleads for the person he loves to give him another shot. “You’re all I know,” he sings in his falsetto. It’s the most direct, vulnerable statement he’s ever made, and in an album otherwise packed with uncertainty, it’s powerful.

Cronin has said that his first favorite album was Nirvana’s In Utero— a record noisily recorded with Steve Albini before the band went to R.E.M./Katrina and the Waves producer Scott Litt to soften a couple of the album’s songs. There’s a loose analogy at play here— Cronin recorded MCII with Eric “King Riff” Bauer at his Bay Area shred factory, Bauer Mansion. Later, he had the album mixed and mastered at Berkeley’s hallowed Fantasy Studios. (Cronin has admitted that he got the idea from Segall, who worked in those same two studios for Twins.) The outcome is a great sounding album that sits nicely between the poles of “fuzz war” and “cooing balladeer.” Cronin has proved with this album that, like Cobain before him, he’s so much more than a longhair with a fuzz pedal. He’s an excellent pop craftsman who knows how to turn the power up for maximum effect.”

Yr 2 Wk 41 Ace's Choice: Dean Blunt-The Redeemer

Sat, 04 May 2013 19:07:32 -0400

NME: “It’s rare to hear an album that sounds like it’s not of this world. The twists and turns on Hype Williams producer Dean Blunt’s follow-up to 2011’s ‘The Narcissist II’ seem like they’re from anywhere but Earth, and evoke a strange sonic landscape. The Londoner combines neurotic voicemails and crashing waves (‘Walls Of Jericho’) with harp, choral vocals, slide guitar and classical strings (‘I Run New York’), then occasionally slings his own sing-rap weariness on top of it all. These disparate noises are all brought together to create a concept album about the end of a relationship. A strange record, but an intriguing planet to get sucked into.”

Yr 2 Wk 40 MavenMaven's Choice: Wolf People-Fain

Sat, 04 May 2013 18:57:00 -0400

WELCOME MavenMaven!! (Excellent 1st Choice IMO, Yotal)

Maven: “A contemporary version of steeleye span, with great songwriting and without the kitsch that often is found in that genre.

Very satisfying.”

The Quietus:

“Upon realising that Wolf People’s riff-heavy folk rock has certainly not beam beamed in from the murkiest corners of the 70s, one must surely ask themselves - is this mere revivalism? Even back in the days of wide-bottomed pantaloons and pachouli smoke, folk rock artists had their eyes fixed on the past, whether through folk traditions or Tolkien’s fantastical creations.

Fortunately, Wolf People are able to dip their toes into prog’s expansive waters without getting lost in pomposity. Rather than the stale reanimation of a long-buried corpse, they inject their influences with an honest vitality that keeps them truly alive.

Throughout Fain - the band’s second album - folk melodies meet visceral fuzz-rock, never sounding quite like anyone else specifically, but a unique blend that never coalesced at the time. Led Zeppelin weren’t miles away, but their folk tendencies were more of a detour from the pursuit of swaggering rock & roll stardom. Wolf People take both routes in equal measure, counting influences from the psychedelic Mighty Baby to the delicate tones of Fairport Convention. Paying homage to the greats of decades past is nothing unusual, but it’s rarer to find a group willing to go all the way - not diluting the cultural detritus that comes their way into accessible hits, but revelling in its primordial resonance.

Opening track ‘Empty Vessels’ lures you in with pristine guitar chimes, overlaid by psychedelic soloing that comes across as semi-improvised. Vocalist Jack Sharp does nothing to play down their folk credentials, his regional accent lilting gracefully atop the band’s aural witchcraft. As the jaunty melody near the beginning of lead single ‘All Returns’ dances from the fretboard, there’s a tinge of Renaissance Faire about it, but only for a short time - the song darts from place-to-place, dropping into serenity before becoming engulfed in cacophonous noise at a moment’s notice. Whether by skill or good fortune, it all fits.

‘When The Fire Is Dead In The Grate’ recalls early Black Sabbath, from its lumbering riff to masterfully-executed drum fills, but they’re no doom-worshippers. Once again, the folksy touches are abundant, culminating in extended instrumental passages that don’t overstay their welcome. ‘Athol’ writhes in its ominous tonality, while ‘Hesperus’ gleams like the evening star with subtly-mixed female backing vocals, before monstrously heavy bass comes to the fore.

Reverb-heavy ballad ‘Answer’ glides along on luscious harmonies, followed by the historical storytelling of ‘Thief’. Focused on the first-person viewpoint of an arrested highwayman, Sharp describes it as “a form of tourism. You can visit but not live in the mind of an appalling human being.” Despite the character’s roguish behaviour, however, it’s a tale that provokes empathy: “And now the irons are locked around my hands and feet as we make our way along the road.”

By the time that finisher ‘NRR’ kicks into gear with propulsive rhythms against supercharged distortion, the entire record has burrowed its way into your subconscious mind. Don’t expect it to leave any time soon.”

Yr 2 Wk 40 Mo's Choice: Valerie June-Pushin' Against A Stone

Sat, 04 May 2013 18:40:04 -0400

Cannot find a proper review…

Yr 2 Wk 40 Ace's Choice: Small Black-Limits Of Desire

Sat, 04 May 2013 18:18:03 -0400

The Skinny:

“Although Limits of Desire is Small Black’s second album proper, it’s also a follow-up to last year’s fantastic Moon Killer mixtape, released online for free. The conceit of Moon Killer was to mix hip-hop beats with shoegaze guitars and dream-pop melodies, lending an extra edge to tracks like Two Rivers. On Limits of Desire, the hip-hop influences of Moon Killer and New Chain are replaced by a softly-shaded synth-pop bent.

When it works, as on openers Free At Dawn and Canoe, the results are impressive – a narcotic wash of muted guitars and gently-pulsing synths underpin a louche, breathy vocal, everything concealed behind a film of reverb. But No Stranger, the title track and Breathless feel like half-finished New Order offcuts, while Sophie errs towards the twee. Only A Shadow lifts proceedings again, burying the vocals beneath a propulsive house beat. It’s a pleasant enough experience, but fails to match the inventiveness of Moon Killer for both ideas and hooks.”

Yr 2 Wk 40 Radiculous (Welcome Back)'s Choice Savages-Silence Yourself

Sat, 04 May 2013 18:04:33 -0400

The Quietus

Inspiration, not innovation, is what I look for in Savages. One Quietus reader insists, every time we write about them, on commenting “post punk karaoke”, ironically himself forgetting that movement’s urge to say something new. Of course, it’s perfectly easy - as it is with so many bands in this age of refinement - to pick apart Savages’ influences on Silence Yourself, their thrilling debut album. But karaoke - the empty, facile regurgitation of other people’s songs - this is not.

I’d take Savages, with their furious, high-velocity update of Joy Division, Simple Minds, British Sea Power, The Smashing Pumpkins, Einsturzende Neubauten, Bauhaus, The Birthday Party, Suede and so on over a thousand pallid boys who’ve managed, somehow, to divine an ‘original’ sound at the end of post-modernism. Why? Because Silence Yourself is the manifestation of a formidable spirit, a sense that everything they do is done with great purity of intent, and a brilliant sex, life and death album of a kind rarely seen these days. It also manages to capture the power of their live show in a surprising way. I saw Savages’ first gig in January 2012, when they arrived as a last-minute support band for British Sea Power far more exciting, with more presence, more intelligence, than any indie band slogging their way up a dull career ladder to that point where suddenly adulation is accorded with a Brixton Academy headline slot. They gave their all then, and they give their all here, somehow distilling that live potency to record.

For starters, this is a very European record in feel, and not merely thanks to Jehnny Beth’s French passport and curious vocal delivery. The depressing British trend for anti-intellectualism in pop is gloriously set ablaze by Savages’ manifestos, noise excursions with side-project HTB and collaboration with Bo Ningen to create a “Sonic Simultaneous Poem”, or introducing dancers, film and support sets by those within the Savages “family” to their concerts. Indeed, some of the naysayers who’ve sprung up in opposition to the fervent support that many demonstrate towards this band seem to imply that all this is calculated pretension, that perhaps after unveiling these elaborate and thoughtful ways of doing things, they all sit around chuckling a good LOL at a few more hoodwinked in. Such is the current fear, in the indie mainstream, of exercising the mind.

This hermetically sealed world around them is the cauldron in which their fire is nurtured and burns. Like many of the bands who inspired them, Savages fight against limitations as they carve out their songs. Gemma Thompson says she had to fundamentally rethink the way she played guitar after Jehnny Beth joined Savages, and steered it away from an experimental noise duo to songwriting band. Her contributions are incredibly impressive on the yearning, straining ‘Waiting For A Sign’, with the mood created by Faye Milton and Ayse Hassan’s rhythm section acting as the base for dissonant guitar aerobics and an abstract vocal screech that recalls Diamanda Galas. It manages to pack into five minutes what Suede took ten to achieve on some of the songs from that second half of Dog Man Star.

The positioning of that track at the halfway point, followed by the gloomy, bell-clanging textures of instrumental ‘Dead Nature’ emphasises that Savages whole-heartedly subscribe to the album as a format: that’s why the best tracks, ‘Husbands’ and ‘Marshal Dear’, are stuck right at the end of Side B. Interestingly, when I asked if there would be a different artwork for the digital release that might allow Jehnny Beth’s manifesto on the sleeve to be easily read, the band said that the vinyl was their sole consideration.

Savages therefore seem to understand that the album still offers rock music’s ideal format in which to explore challenging ideas. They’re not alone in this, of course, as many of the old guard who’ve inspired them (especially Swans) have been proving over the past few years, but it’s certainly rare among Savages’ peers. So why is Silence Yourself a radical album that, as guitarist Gemma Thompson told Laura Snapes in Pitchfork, is “music to break shit and fuck on the floor to”?

Overdrive, distortion and Hasson and Milton’s swinging rhythms ramp up the rather libidinous feel to Savages’ music. Post-Britpop, UK guitar music has become rather prudish - with, say, Wild Beasts excepted - you wouldn’t ever have gone to last decade’s post punk revivalists Bloc Party or Futureheads for your kicks. America, meanwhile, seems to combine the asexual with a weird tats n’ caps ‘bro’ mentality. Silence Yourself explores thematic concerns of honesty-of-the-self ideology and sexual power dynamics more commonly encountered in the Throbbing Gristle-inspired fringes of electronic and industrial music. However, those artists often manage to become a cliche of leathery lechery, fetishism and BDSM as codified and dull as the vanilla mainstream it claims to oppose.

Silence Yourself, by contrast explores these ideas with sophistication and bravery. When I interviewed the band for Q magazine recently, Beth told me that ‘Hit Me’ was inspired by porn actress Belladonna, and spoke of how she found pornography to be liberating - a not uncontroversial position. ‘She Will’ seems to be an ambiguous look at the pleasure and pain of the eroticism that comes with sexual infidelity and jealousy. Then on ‘City’s Full’, she sings “I love the stretch marks on your thighs / I love the wrinkles around your eyes”. It’s one of the most charming lyrics of 2013, a bullshit-free summation of the honesty and complexity of true, rather than false idealised, love.

Ultimately, Savages are going to be a divisive band, but better to be hated and loved than trundle along with watery, anaemic music that says nothing no matter how original it might be. The openness that Savages display to art, sexuality and the idea that rock & roll can be intellectual, though, means that they’re the sort of group who, like the Manics, Suede and British Sea Power, will become a way of life for some. In the essay that features on Silence Yourself’s artwork, Beth writes “if the world would shut up just for a while perhaps we would start hearing the distant rhythm of an angry young tune”. These are those tunes. Do what these good ladies tell you to do - silence yourself, listen to these songs. It’s the least they - and you - deserve.

Yr 2 Wk 40 Lily's Choice: Baths-Obsidian

Sat, 04 May 2013 17:56:08 -0400

Sputnikmusic Review:

“Who is Will Wiesenfeld, anyway? If the electronic producer’s debut album told us anything, it was that Baths was a sound geek at heart— from the stuttering glitches to his favorite movies’ audio samples, Cerulean was a collection of memories that paved the way to his musical future. And as naive as it seems now, we all found ourselves believing Wiesenfeld would continue to expand on the shameless enthusiasm Cerulean offered.

So right when we thought we knew Baths, he backs into a corner and creates the most disturbing, alienating and honest album of his career.

Obsidian is the pissed-off older brother nobody knew Cerulean had, the budding antithesis of its predecessor’s pleasure. This album is dark in the darkest of ways— as if its menacing album cover didn’t tell us otherwise. To be fair, there was ample reason to believe Obsidianwas going to be an equally enthused affair. “Miasma Sky,’ the album’s first single, presented itself in an excited flurry. But at the end of the day, the track exists as exception over rule, existing as the single beam of light in an otherwise pitch-black room.

There’s a much more leisurely swagger pervading Obsidian, which helps to explain the massive change in feel. There are no bells and whistles this time around, just barren landscapes and lyrics, lyrics, lyrics. Sometimes Wiesenfeld tells stories of love; other times, he paints vicious pictures of death. It’s an intimate change for the musician, and makes for an infinitely more telling description of who Baths is. His thoughts are messy and scattered, and his songwriting follows suit— it isn’t too much of a problem for those accustomed to it, though. Cerulean was schizophrenic, but in terms of the music itself— here, the most unpredictable element is how Wiesenfeld carries himself vocally, in the midst of all the different layers of sound.

This would be a good time to touch on Baths’ singing, and how it’s easily the most polarizing element here. “Lovely Bloodflow” was such a rousing anthem because its main draw was the quirky vocals, much unlike the otherwise instrumentally based Cerulean. All the tracks here instead Wiesenfeld’s voice to the forefront. And his voice is still shaky, flawed and revealing. But it makes sense to let his damaged timbre direct the album, because shit, this album’s damaged beyond repair. After all, it’s the sound of a musician coming to terms with his demons and making twisted art out of them, and for this exact reason Will Wiesenfeld’s voice is perfect for the job at hand.

This isn’t to say the album’s balance between vocals and music is without its flaws. Many of the instrumental parts of the music at hand simply don’t deliver, existing too passively for any sort of lasting experience. Some tracks take their time, and others are too drowsy to even be aware that time exists. The first example that comes to mind is “Ironworks,” a song that works on every front except for tempo. The track feels constructed to be livelier, not the slow-as-molasses ballad Wiesenfeld decided it to be.

But as unexpected as they are, the simplest moments here are the most charming. It’s when the song takes a pleasant melody and only tampers with it some, giving breathing room for vocals in the most generous way. “No Eyes” exists as successful interplay between all ingredients at hand, with a distinct synth melody stuttering behind Wiesenfeld’s cries of “I have no eyes, I have no heart, I have no soul.” This is why the album’s brutal, because its brutality is easy to miss.

However, the most pivotal moment on Obsidian is “Earth Death.” It’s when the album’s clocks stop turning, when all goes black. “My men cannot get out of being pulled into the earth,” Wiesenfeld sings. The song’s backbone trudges along in meaning, injecting more and more tension with every punch. The entire album has been merely flirting with this type of anxiety, but never has it been this outright, a nervous breakdown redressed into a song format. And this is what Obsidian is all about, the fact that Will Wiesenfeld still doesn’t know exactly who he is, but that he’s afraid there isn’t much of a point to it anymore. Who is Baths? Well, does it even matter?”

Yr 2 Wk 40 Yotal's Choice: Public Service Broadcasting-Inform-Educate-Entertain

Sat, 04 May 2013 17:31:54 -0400

<a href=”http://publicservicebroadcasting.bandcamp.com/album/the-war-room” data-mce-href=”http://publicservicebroadcasting.bandcamp.com/album/the-war-room”>The War Room by PUBLIC SERVICE BROADCASTING</a>

Using samples from ancient radio and television broadcast this lot build up some wonderfully dancy tunes around old crackling voices…They remind me somewhat of the Cuban Boys (though less silly) or the Avalanches (though less mad)…

The biggest find of the year so-far for me! (but then I am a sucker for well used samples).

Yr 2 Wk 39 Yotal's Choice: Valleys-Are You Going To Stand There And Talk Weird All Night

Sat, 04 May 2013 17:09:00 -0400

Best Song (Cannot Embed)

Waiting for the new “National” then grab a bit of this to tide you over. IMO the song in the video is one of the most boring on the album, but tis the single…Check out the song that I linked above but could not embed…

Yotal’s SOTW: Savages-Husbands (ssssoooooo good)

Yr 2 Wk 39 Painkilla's Choice: Wire-Change Becomes Us

Tue, 30 Apr 2013 15:02:27 -0400

PK : “I’ve been listening and enjoying the latest Wire album for the last few weeks and I actually thought it had been picked as ROTW on your blog already before but after checking out, since I didn’t find it I’ve decided it was worth being mentioned! Very nice and consistent Wire album sounding like you’d expect them to sound :-)”

P4K:

“Only Wire would attempt to make their fourth album after their tenth. At the beginning of their career, between 1977 and 1979, the great British art punk quartet released three perfect albums, Pink Flag, Chairs Missing and 154, each wildly different from the other. Then they splintered, though a bunch of post-154 songs-in-process came to light later, in the dodgy live recordings that made up the bizarre, messy Document and Eyewitness (1981) and 1996’s Turns and Strokes.

Since they first reunited in 1985, Wire has had an exceptionally weird relationship to its own past. During their commercial peak in the latter half of the 80s, they refused to play anything from the pre-breakup era, and for the first few years of their current incarnation, they mostly acted as if they’d jumped straight from Pink Flag to the year 2000. At the beginning of this decade, they started looking back in earnest— not in a “hey, kids, we wrote “12 x U”, remember?” way, but in a “cleaning up loose ends” way. 2011’s Strays EP contained four pieces that had been kicking around their live repertoire for a long time but had never been recorded to their satisfaction before; the Black Session album that came out last year actually included a few relatively faithful versions of old songs.

And now they’ve gone back to the material they’d have recorded for the album that never happened after 154. The 13 titles on Change Becomes Us are new, but the songs themselves aren’t; they’re all more or less newly rewritten versions of the Document and Eyewitness/Turns and Strokes repertoire. It’s not the first time they’ve reckoned with some of those sketches, either. “B/W Silence” and “Time Lock Fog” are respectively adapted from “Lorries” and “5/10,” which singer/guitarist Colin Newman previously reworked on his 1982 solo album Not To. “Doubles & Trebles” is a new version of “Ally in Exile”, which Wire mutated first into “Art of Persistence” on 2000’s The Third Day and then into “I Don’t Understand” on 2002’s Read & Burn 01; positioned as the new album’s opener, its arrangement and lyric (about a solitary agent in enemy territory) explicitly allude to the way “Reuters” introduces Pink Flag.

The Wire of 1980, and the band’s members on the solo records that immediately followed the split, were radicals who were trying to pry open the pop-recording form and avoid repeating themselves. The Wire of 2013 have settled on a sweet-and-prickly sound that suits them, and sonically Change Becomes Us is of a piece with Red Barked Tree and Object 47, the other studio albums they’ve recorded since the 2004 departure of guitarist/texturalist Bruce Gilbert. (These days, his spot is filled by Matt Simms, who’s 30 years younger than the rest of the band.)

Considered as a set of songs, though, it’s fantastic— a clear look at the twisty, glittering material that had previously only been a few sparkles of possibility shining through the muck of those difficult live albums. The band who wrote these songs were a couple of years away from becoming hardcore punk icons— there are hints of that when drummer Robert Grey breaks into a high-speed two-step on “Adore Your Island” and “Stealth of a Stork”. And they were so deeply invested in non-obviousness that their lyrics sometimes read like cryptic crossword clues: the hook of “Eels Sang Lino”— recast here as “Eels Sang”— is an anagram for “in Los Angeles.”

But the Wire of 1979 and 1980 were also developing their enduring fascination with unlikely kinds of beauty, and their 21st century incarnation has built some of their most fetching songs from some of the most ragged and jagged ideas to come from their younger selves. (“Re-Invent Your Second Wheel”, sung by bassist Graham Lewis, is a languorous waltz whose DNA has traces of the in-your-face Document and Eyewitness experiment “Zegk Hoqp”.) History and transformation are, understandably, recurring themes in the new lyrics on Change Becomes Us, and it’s a treat to have this missing link in the Wire story repaired, even if it’s as much an anomaly in the present moment as Document and Eyewitness was in its time.”

Painkilla’s SOTW: Kurt Vile-KV Crimes (Could only find live sounds )

Yr 2 Wk 40 Mo & Guesto's Choice: Pure X-Crawling Up The Stairs

Thu, 25 Apr 2013 17:42:00 -0400

Blurb

“Crawling Up The Stairs is the second LP from Austin, Texas’ Pure X. Made up of principal members Nate Grace, Jesse Jenkins and Austin Youngblood, they stay true to the dense sound they explored on their last album, Pleasure, but add twinkling atmospherics and a new clarity to their carefully cultivated, emotionally heavy songs.

Where Pleasure was built on syrup-slow hooks and a weighty, sexy haze, Crawling Up The Stairs is the sound of Pure X emerging from that humid cocoon to stare all the screwed up parts of life directly in the face and embrace them. Crawling isn’t a record about escape, it’s about what you do after you’ve realized that escaping isn’t an option and you just have to face the world you live in head on.

Crawling Up The Stairs is an album born from emotional turmoil. For much of 2012, Grace was laid up with a serious leg injury. During the recording period, he had no insurance, no money, and if he ever was going to walk again, he needed to have surgery. Grace had no idea if he’d get the money together, and was consumed with doubt, unable to sleep. After a cathartic but torturous night of insomnia, heavy with world-worry and intermittent nightmares, Grace emerged feeling exhausted and different. Not better or worse, but different. Ready to heal. Crawling is the result of that. Track by track, Grace, Youngblood and Jenkins-who shares vocal and songwriting duties-drag themselves through a bad year.

As Grace was wrestling with his own demons, Jenkins’ was figuring things out as well. On the gorgeous “Thousand Year Old Child,” Jenkins is wrestling with getting older and being uncertain about his future. It’s a universal feeling rendered personal by Jenkins’ heartbreakingly spare lyrics.

But Crawling isn’t entirely dark. Album closer “All of the Future (All of the Past)” is the record’s most optimistic song. As if Grace, Jenkins and Youngblood have finally emerged from an endless parade of bummer moments with newly optimistic perspectives on life. “I can see the light/just got to stay alive,” Grace sings. It might read as desperate, but Grace, for the first time, sounds confident that they’ll make it no matter what.”

Mo’s SOTW: Alex Beaupain - Grands Soirs

Guesto’s SOTW: Dawes-Just My Luck

Yr 2 Wk 39 Mo's Choice: Joasihno-A Lie

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 14:51:30 -0400

<a href=”http://joasihno.bandcamp.com/album/a-lie” data-mce-href=”http://joasihno.bandcamp.com/album/a-lie”>a lie by joasihno</a>

Blurb: “The ongoing love affair between US-Americans and rectangular, grid-like shapes is hardly a secret: There’s Manhattan’s grid system, and pretty much all state lines are straight; even Mid-West farmers prefer their plains and fields nice and square, as any domestic flight from one coast to the other will teach you. Yet, contrary to popular belief, things are not much different in Old Europe, or rather, in southern Germany: The “rectangular fields” surrounding, shaping, and defining the Upper Bavarian village Joasihno call home once again turned out a significant influence and defining factor during the duo’s recording sessions for its sophomore effort A Lie. Former sole mastermind Christoph “Cico” Beck (Aloa Input, MS. John Soda) and his new band mate Nico Sierig (Missent To Denmark) have referred to them before, and apparently these oblong, “rectangular fields” work pretty much like blank sheets – just waiting to be filled with Joasihno’s shape-shifting, rather circular, meandering, and free floating tracks that are full of surprising little twists and turns.

Having recently played another round of gigs with The Notwist and Owen Pallett – they previously also shared stages with Beirut, Sóley, 13 & God, and Youth Lagoon –, the opening track of Joasihno’s second album feels a bit like a plane’s smooth landing at sundown: the air is shimmering, and suddenly there’s this new thirst for action upon touchdown, it’s something Germans like to call Tatendrang. In other words: It’s a proper kick-off to set the tone, gleaming, strumming, clapping euphorically; the sonic equivalent to a movie’s “happy ending” right at the beginning. Further down those fields, they present a sound that seems to say “why not keep that level of playfulness”, sometimes bolting and shooting off into the wind – “Oh Boy!” – but also staying true to its melancholy undercurrents reminiscent of the underrated Matt Marque. Elsewhere, Joasihno even live up to Cico’s last name when “Some Light” indeed sounds a bit like a certain Beck Hansen trapped in the garden of intricate beats.

Over the course of the LP, the duo weaves a vast array of influences ranging from World Music to Minimal and back – Cico mentions Reich, Glass, Ligeti, and Nancarrow when asked about his key influences – into an electro-acoustic tapestry of sound that includes hypnotic layers (“Dream Of A Disappearing Friend”), surprising melodies almost reminiscent of The Strokes (“Oceans”; albeit using the kind of instrumentation you’d find in Hymie’s Basement), and some fine home-made soundtrack material that would make any super-8 collection look even better (“In Our House”). Apparently, living that close to the ultimate border, the Limes of ancient Rome, results in a rather unbounded and limitless approach when it comes to DIY musicianship.

It’s been a while since Joasihno dropped the first EP “Papiertonnentigertum” (2009) and the debut album We Say: Oh Well (2011), and so it’s great to see that the spirit of DIY is still vehemently blowing from all sides across the “rectangular fields” of northern Bavaria. And just like the first rays of sunlight are about to return to the barren fields when A Lie finally sees its release, the sonic snapshots and moments gathered on this album are humming like an old-school slide show – in fact you can almost feel the shimmering air against the skin.”

Mo’s SOTW: Merchandise-I’ll Be Gone

Yr 2 Wk 39 Daglicht's Choice: Fotonen-Vakantie

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 14:45:04 -0400

<a href=”http://music.samlingrecordings.com/album/sl014-vakantie-fotonen-double-disc” data-mce-href=”http://music.samlingrecordings.com/album/sl014-vakantie-fotonen-double-disc”>SL014: Vakantie - Fotonen (double disc) by Samling-Recordings</a>

Daglicht: “Kind of a weird pick this time. I could choose Colin Stetson, Deerhunter, Shouting Matches or Yeah Yeah Yeahs, but I simply gave Fotonen the most spins this week.

I long for warm summer days, to put this CD on endless repeat, and have a nice drink in the hot sun.”

Cannot find another review!

Yr 2 Wk 39 Yotal's Choice: East India Youth-Hostel EP

Fri, 19 Apr 2013 04:43:11 -0400

The whole Ep is pretty good, but Heaven, How Long? is the first proper summer tune of the year for me..laid back and awesome. Catch it if you can.

Yr 2 Wk 38 Taylorrrr's Choice: Young Galaxy-Ultramarine

Fri, 19 Apr 2013 04:37:44 -0400

Chromewaves Review:

“They couldn’t have known it at the time, but when naming their 2011 albumShapeshifting, Montreal’s Young Galaxywere describing not only their sonic shift from well-worn dream-pop to sleek, futuristic disco, but in their fortunes as well. Their first couple records had failed to launch them into an orbit commensurate with their band name butShapeshifting would make them, if not stars, then an act who were genuinely doing something fresh and interesting and well worth watching. It was a fresh start that not many artists get.

It would also put whatever they did next under a next-level degree of scrutiny to see if Shapeshifting genuinely the start of a fruitful new direction for the band or just a lucky aberration. Doing everything they could to ensure the former and acknowledging that Swedish producer Dan Lissvik’s job mixing Shapeshifting was an essential part of the record’s magic and success, Young Galaxy doubled down on his input and traveled to Gothenburg to record with him fully-credited as producer, and it’s a gamble that has paid off handsomely. To say an album sounds like its predecessor is usually interpreted as a sign of creative stagnation, but for Ultramarine to be considered an equal to Shapeshifting is actually rather high praise.

The space-age, synthesized aesthetic that so surprised on its predecessor still feels fresh and more importantly, natural. It provides the perfect setting for now-sole vocalist Catherine McCandless’ vocals and their peripheral iciness, but also allows draws out some of her most affecting performances to date, particularly on album bookends “Pretty Boy” and “Sleepwalk With Me”. Also interestingly, Ultramarine doesn’t find the band venturing any further into dancey territory despite being tooled up for it, funky expedition “Out The Gate Backwards” being the notable exception but even that does its work by way of Madchester, rather than via any contemporary EDM affectations.Ultramarine is a strong record that cements Young Galaxy’s place in the Can-rock firmament, and ifShapeshifting posited the question of, “this is Young Galaxy?”, Ultramarine definitively answers it with “this is Young Galaxy”.

Yr 2 Wk 38 Yotal's Choice: Bill Ryder-Jones-A Bad Wind Blows In My Heart

Fri, 19 Apr 2013 04:32:25 -0400

Former Coral frontman. I think he is so much better as a solo artist, but hey ho that’s just my opinion..After the very nice “If” in 2011 he is back with another batch of acoustic heartbreak songs that are beautifully crafted and a pleasure to listen to.

Well worth a look!

Yotes

Yr 2 Wk 38 Jayetch's Choice: The Boy Least Likely To-The Great Perhaps

Fri, 19 Apr 2013 04:25:38 -0400

<a href=”http://theboyleastlikelyto.bandcamp.com/album/the-great-perhaps” data-mce-href=”http://theboyleastlikelyto.bandcamp.com/album/the-great-perhaps”>the great perhaps by the boy least likely to</a>

MusicOMH Review:

“You might well know of The Boy Least Likely To; but maybe you don’t yet know that you do. Composer Pete Hobbs and wordsmith Jof Owen, with their unique brand of child’s eye-view pop music, released their debut LP The Best Party Ever in 2005 and subsequently became delayed by problems with their record company. The duo from Wendover have been featured on adverts from Coca Cola via Apple to General Motors, and on the hit US medical dramaGrey’s Anatomy, with their infectious innocence and sense of optimism seamlessly infused into songs such as Stringing Up Conkers and Be Gentle With Me.

Now they’re back, and this sense of optimism is embedded in the duo’s glazy-eyed lyrics, such as on new track Climbing Out Of Love, with lines such as “Everyone leave things behind, climbing out of love as you both begin to climb, into the sunlight of love”, and the use of sunny synths and glockenspiel. The same track tells of how there’s “nothing harder than climbing out of love”, which would happily sit beside Gotye’s Somebody That I Used To Know, this time with added xylophone, yet with TBLLT somehow adding that boundless sense of enthusiasm felt as a child.

These endearing memory jogs abound amongst TBLLT’s output, with lyrics reflecting an idealistic landscape and compiling something of a retrospective of childhood innocence. Take this line, from Taking Wind Mills For Giants: “I guess there can always be rainbows after it rains, I made us miserable by taking windmills from giants.”

However, whilst these youthful allusions have led to the band being labelled with the ‘twee-pop’ brush, this must not be confused with musical immaturity. New offering I Keep Falling In Love With You Again, released as a free download single on Valentine’s Day, is a particularly well-crafted pop song with multiple references, most noticeably to Eastenders, with the opening drum break, but also to Jarvis Cocker and Pulp, and maybe even The Cure, with an infectious chorus and synth riff reminiscent of Common People or even Friday, I’m In Love.

Innocence is carried further forward to My Little Heart That Remembers Everything, which opens with the lyric “My heart is my companion” and climaxes with a chorus detailing how “My heart can sing”. The lyrics remain simplistic, as does the music, but it serves its purpose as a harmless bit of feel-good time well spent. Songs such as My Little Heart call to mind Noah And The Whale’s early output, specifically the chart-topping Five Years’ Time, and to up-and-coming folk stars 5 day riot.

A cynic would criticise the lyrical content and preoccupation of The Boy Least Likely To’s simple songwriting, and their lyrics evocative of the type of loved-up themes reserved for young teenagers. But it is almost impossible not to be won over by this glass-half-full outlook. Even on a dull and wet spring morning, their charm is undeniable.”

Yr 2 Wk 38 Mo's Choice: Fossil Collective-Tell Where I Lie

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 06:01:06 -0400

Popmatters: “Rising phoenix-like from the ashes of buzzy Leeds-area art-rock outfit Vib Gyor, Fossil Collective aims for and mostly accomplishes a light tone of ethereal mood-rock. The new project of that former band’s singer Dave Fendick and drummer Jonny Hooker often sparkles with acoustic luster and radio-friendly sheen, even if it also mostly unfolds in predictable ways.

Fossil Collective’s debut Tell Where I Lie is certainly no knockout, but it’s also too pleasant and skilled to be dismissed as mere fashionable radio-friendly fancy, either. It certainly commences in a manner that suggests such fancy, mind you. Strummy vocal folk-pop cuts like “Let It Go” and “Wolves” (singles with music videos, both) dominate the record’s initial stretch. “Wolves” is tricked out with hints of electronic burbles and piano colorings and carries greater interest to the discerning listener, but “Let It Go” is more of a conceivable commercial breakthrough. With its recognizable melody and unthreatening sense of scrubbed melancholy, it seems destined to score the closing scene of some mid-season episode of a network drama, if not an alternative-minded car ad campaign somewhere soon enough.

As such folk-rock albums with evident commercial tendencies often do, Tell Where I Lie grows more appealing and less compromised as it wears on. There’s some gorgeous falsetto vocal harmonizing in the manner of Crosby, Stills and Nash or contemporary Texan outfit Midlake on full display throughout (“On and On” suggests the latter act in nigh-on plagiaristic particulars). Nowhere is this element more prominent and well-employed in the midst of the impeccably minimalist mid-album highlight “Monument”. A resonant three-note electric guitar form seems to forebode something explosive, but instead settles into a strings-assisted low boil of comforting warmth rather than scalding heat. It’s a lovely achievement, probably the best that Fendick and Hooker have on offer here.

Seven-minute pastoral dreamscape “The Magpie” is also a minor wonder, floating on vocal harmony and woody notes before its stunning and patient breakdown and rebuild of organ, piano solos, and dopplering synthetic noise lifts it to the stars. Closing lo-fi ballad “How Was I to Know” embraces the elegiac mystery lurking in “the corners of the night”, and brings the record to a stronger end than it has a beginning. Even this less-arresting opening section boasts “Under My Arrest”, a sensitively-balanced composition that manages to be achingly pretty without cynically indulging the obviously saccharine.

With these later successes as well as their concurrent concessions to popular appeal, Fossil Collective fulfills what scant promise lies buried in their name and their calming musical pedigree. Their sonic brushes clear away the dirt from the bones unearthed from their chosen excavation pits, revealing the ossified details of their forebears but only as much about their own nature as can be ascertained in contrast with that of those same predecessors. Fendick and Hooker might find that their Collective could produce more rewarding material if they leave aside older artifacts and crafts shiny new objects entirely of their own hands.”

Yr 2 Wk 38 Crystal Rat's Choice: Lady Lamb the Beekeeper – Ripley Pine (2013)

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 05:58:07 -0400

P4K:

“Aly Spaltro’s stage name and backstory may at first seem awfully whimsical; the name Lady Lamb the Beekeeper came to her in a dream, and she first started playing and practicing in the basement of the video rental store where she worked near her hometown of Portland, Maine. So far, so Fox Searchlight. But forget fey; that basement gave her license to get loud, and the songs on Ripely Pine are true to their original forms, bolstered with rugged, hefty arrangements largely written by Spaltro. Her bodily, biblical epics call to mind Jeff Buckley,Okkervil River, Jack White, Helium, and the Dirty Three.

The lyrics of Ripely Pine are hungry for love and experience and bone-picked honesty. She explains the title as a kind of openhearted longing, though it’s gorier than that: “Let’s crawl all over one another like crows on a carcass,” she sings like Sharon Van Etten leading a gospel choir on opener “Hair to the Ferris Wheel”. “Like ants on a crumb starving only for the taste of tongues.” It leaps and pivots through soft woolen strums to freewheeling 1990s alt.rock— that structural skittishness is a constant throughout— and establishes Spaltro’s palpable experience of love as a messy, fetid thing, perhaps more remarkable for the fact that she wrote these songs when she was 18, 19. “Love is selfish/ Love goes tick-tock-tick/ Love knows Jesus/ Apples and oranges,” she sighs of its many coexisting contradictions.

“You with the nape that holds my gaze/ You with the tongue that speaks my name,” she glowers on “Aubergine”, slyly sizing up her intended like prey on a plain. The brooding interlude comes amid truly joyous New Orleans-style carnival blasts, and the song’s broiling-over stream of consciousness approach makes it feel like an incredible street party. The best songs on Ripely Pine are unpredictable in a way that’s refreshing because of their sloppy energy, not in spite of it. Some of them have been worked on for five years, but they’re executed with unaffected confidence rather than niggled perfection; there are pitchy vocals here and there, and with only three songs under four minutes and almost everything playing out like the closing number of a headline festival set, it’s much too long. While her gentler solo songs are pretty enough, they can also be samey, making the hour length even less necessary. But what Ripely Pine has that much comparable rousing-but-empty country-tinged trad rock doesn’t have is raw, credulous fire.

The best songs here are all nearly seven minutes long, but their erratic structures make compelling stages to watch dueling tirades of emotion swarm around one another. Spaltro wields ferocity and timidity equally well, to the extent that it’s hard to tell which is her more frightening mode. The incensed “Bird Balloons”, an unresolved tale of betrayal, regret, and acceptance, has an excellent, spat pay-off: “My hair grew long so I fucking cut it/ And when you looked away I stuck those trimmings in your locket, ha ha ha ha.” “You Are the Apple” eases into a bluesy lope and twang, and then a swashbuckling burst of timpani and strings, Spaltro screaming, “I still need your teeth around my organs.” What should be the payoff to the Alabama Shakes-loose “Crane Your Neck” is Spaltro howling “I’m as blue as blood before the blood goes red,” in a cadence borrowed from the hilt of “Fake Plastic Trees”; its “twist yo’ hips” shimmy-to-fade epilogue is unnecessary and a bit rote.

The “blue blood” line crops up a few times on Ripely Pine, notably on “Aubergine”, where Spaltro comitragically sings about how someone makes her “into an egg without yolk,” making it clear that she means the lifeless shade of blood, not the regal kind. Conversely,Ripely Pine is one of the most nourishing, deeply alive records of this young year. On closer “Taxidermist, Taxidermist”, she reconciles with herself: “‘How do you do?’ I say/ ‘I’ve heard such lovely things about who you are and where you’ve been/ But be in me again.’” These songs are about Spaltro five years ago; hopefully reassembling the parts doesn’t mean locking up these messy song banquets for a neater record next time around. The taste is too addictive.”