Like all good teen idol crazes, Walker curls his blonde hair. His mod-revival bangs provide a candid visual metaphor of the delightful melodrama that guides Walker’s style. Scott Walker is a crooner. His static mane quickly cues you in to the overly emotive ballads that he lays his baritone upon. Songs like “When Joanna Loved Me” tell stories of love and love lost that are so sappy it is almost humorous. With continued listening however, these Catalanoesque crush tales become incredibly endearing. Walker’s delivery takes the increasingly constricting genre of the love song and manipulates it to fit his overly intellectual palm. The result is charmingly empathetic reworking of the girl-group naivety that we all love so much.

Scott Walker has beautiful and intense eyes. His sad stare casts an unnerving shade upon the viewer as she/he is floored by their fierceness. The same intensity that his eyes exude is seen in flawless style on the album opener. In the track simply titled “Mathilde,” Walker successfully anglicizes Belgian talisman Jacques Brel’s chilling satire into an impassioned Spectorish epic. Zealous fire blasts out of Walker’s heart as he conveys the difficulty of loving someone that you also loathe. By the song’s conclusion the listener is knocked back by the wall of trumpets battling for space behind Walker’s shadowy croon.

Most charming of all of Walker’s features however is not his hair or his eyes but his self-aware smirk. It is as if Walker has already discovered that life is ridiculous and he uses this freedom to allow him to break through any apprehensions attached to making cheesy orchestrated pop. Walker is sadly, honestly and truly free. What better way to use freedom than to croon a little?

Check this album out if you like: Pulp, Frank Sinatra, Serge Gainsbourg and Blur.

To hear tracks from the Scott and hear other such poppy delights, tune into Radio K’s “Last Years Model” on Monday April 21st and 28th.

www.radiok.org

Lock up your children because Vampire Hands are coming to get you! While visions of gaunt, bony creatures shrouded in cloaks and pining for blood are probably filling your head, there is no need to panic. Seriously, stop the mad dash for the garlic and listen. Really listen, because Vampire Hands is one of the most promising bands on the Minneapolis music scene right now and are sweeping the nation with their infectious new release Me and You Cherry Red.

With a name like Vampire Hands, slow and heavy tunes reminiscent of death and despair flood the imagination, but the first track off of Cherry Red presents itself as a nice surprise. “Statuette” begins with a solid drum beat paired with the cheerful shaking of the maracas. Instrumentation throughout the initial half of the album remains upbeat and easy to move to.

The most outstanding feature of Cherry Red is the wide range of percussion that flows through the tracks. Each song delivers a beat unique in comparison to its predecessor. This is not surprising, since the band boasts two percussion players. The trap set, a rock band essential, is accounted for, but this fundamental instrument is coupled nicely with the sounds of jovial maracas, brassy tambourines, a powerful bass, and tropical bongos.

The fusion of all of these instruments occurs midway through the album on the track “Friendship Road,” which could be highlighted as the peak of the LP. Listeners in the rock mood fresh off the last tune, “Safe Word,” are in for a quick vacation to the Caribbean. The song paints a picture of a ceremony in a tribal community. The first minute and half is high energy as the quintet draws the listener closer to the fire to be initiated into the group. The suave sounds of vocalists Chris Bierden and Collin Johnson serenade the listener in attempts to hypnotize with the repetitious phrase, “Who will take it, who will take it, who will take it, now it’s gone, gone, gone…”. Once the listener is mesmerized, the tempo morphs drastically as the percussion fades, introducing drawn out notes on the guitar for the remaining two minutes. The listener is entranced, feeling as if his or her ears have been baptized as the song slowly progresses to an end. He or she is now a part of the Vampire Hands cult.

Following this rite of passage into the second half of the album, the melody is vastly different from the beginning. The instrumentals of the first portion of Cherry Red serve as pleasant introductions, being upbeat and more superficial then what is presented after “Friendship Road.” It is after this transition that the sound becomes deeper and more personal. It is as if the band trusts the listener now and provides them with a view into their heart and soul. The music becomes more experimental and entrancing as the guitar riffs become harder and the drumming solidifies.

Unfortunately, fans will notice throughout the album that the lyrics are hard to decipher. Bierden and Johnson’s singing is muffled throughout the album, especially toward the second half.

“We don’t necessarily put our vocals to the for [sic] front of our songs because we like it that way,” vocalist and bassist Bierden wrote on their MySpace blog.

The underrated Minneapolis music scene has prevailed once more, adding Vampire Hands to the long list of talented artists the area has cultivated. Catch all of their percussion action live on their tour across the nation, or go pick up a copy of Me and You Cherry Red. Do it or vampires will get you.

The debut LP of the Memphis Tennessee power-poppers Big Star could be one of the greatest records you’ve never heard. In fact, this beautiful album review could easily be filled with paragraph after paragraph of the numerous artists and rock and roll outfits that have been shaped and influenced by the record’s prose. Teenage Fanclub, Elliott Smith and the Replacements are just a few of the more recognizable followers of Big Star’s genius. Released in 1972, Big Star’s #1 Record has become a crafty cornerstone to the world of forgotten pop gems.

#1 Record boasts the combined song writing efforts of Alex Chilton and Chris Bell. Although these two songwriters straddle noticeably different methodologies, their collaboration in Big Star uses their personal differences to create a range that is both sporadic and refined, consisting of jangly power pop to sentimental and beautifully composed ballads. One of the most powerful aspects of the album is the innocence and sincerity oozing from songs such as “Thirteen,” “When My Baby’s Beside Me” and “The Ballad of El Goodo.” It has become a rare occasion for an artist to reminisce while still making an emotional connection with the listener. #1 Record has perfected this combination. As Bell and Chilton harmonize listeners will find themselves comfortably snuggling beneath a beautiful blanket of Big Star’s naivety.

Upon a first listen it is easy to hear #1 Record as a dead relic of 70’s rock. Due to the frequent and often abominable bastardization of Big Star’s sound over the last 35 years, it is initially difficult to understand the genius of their debut. When observed in context however, the originality of their alluring power pop screams louder than any cock rock album that tried to bury it.

Although it was originally issued to positive reviews, #1 Record failed to become a success outside of well-read rock critics and musician circles. Nevertheless, since the bands implosion in 1975, their sound has influenced countless artists and lead to the creation of some of greatest music of our generation. There is much to be learned while spinning the eclectic and poppy goodness of Big Star on your home stereo.

Check this album out if you like: The Replacements, The Raspberries, The Kinks, Cheap Trick and Paul McCartney

To hear tracks from the #1 Record and hear other such poppy delights, tune into Radio K’s “Last Years Model” on Monday April 14th and 21st.

Having a song as popular as Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy” can be both a boon and a bane for a band. While lots of people might still be talking about “Crazy,” Danger Mouse and Cee-lo have moved on. Their new album The Odd Couple, with tracks like “Going On,” reflect their evolution. Like the song, which is definitely one of my favorites, almost every aspect of the album seems to point towards DJ Danger Mouse and Cee-lo moving on to the next thing. Both are contemplative and catchy and are sure to get your booty shaking.

For those of you who are not familiar with Gnarls Barkley’s first album St. Elsewhere, for the love of the music gods go and check it out! I promise you will be dancing by the end of it. On their new album, DJ Danger Mouse definitely makes sure every song has a beat you can shake more than your fist at. However, some are a little more controlled than the loose and fast style of the previous album. Their new album definitely tries to make progress heading into uncharted territories. Compared to their last album, certain stretches of The Odd Couple may be a bit bewildering for fans. Some songs, like parts of “Neighbors” and “No Time Soon” crash as over-the-top sounds that are a little out of reach for the duo. The result is something that isn’t quite as cool as other attempts on the album. It is also an indicator that Gnarls Barkley are really trying to push their limits and forge something new.

One of my favorite songs on the album, “Open Book,” displays just that. The song starts out with a syncopated drum groove and some jungle sound effects. From there the song progresses through a Cee-lo verse (whose lyrics are always choice) and comes to a head at the chorus, making use of the elasticity of Cee-lo’s voice. The song brinks on the boundary of something like Animal Collective at certain points, as the layers of his voice pile on top each other, all sounding like they’re coming from a different person. His vocals are amazing and even manage to stir up the ghosts of old Blues legends like Leadbelly or Robert Johnson at times. In short, Gnarls Barkley are definitely exploring.

If you are looking for a return to the form of their last album, and a catchy tune, you can catch “Run” on the radio right now. This is by far their least adventurous tune of the album and falls just after the beginning of the album, around track four which is by far the danciest section of the album. Songs three through six are guaranteed to move your groove and are just the thing for any dance party.

All around the album is full of short songs (all of them hovering around three minutes) that are solidly constructed on smooth foundations of solid beats. From there, Danger Mouse works his magic by layering sounds to construct verses and choruses while cooking up some tasty hooks as well. Cee-lo’s voice bounces all over the place, and he manages to make it sound like there are all sorts of different vocalists on each track. Some songs may lead a bit to the corny side, but there are bound to be some missteps along the way when trying to make something really unique. The samples are great and many of the songs are a brilliant blend of catchy rhythms and meaningful lyrics.

At this point it seems that the two artists have found something in each other that bodes well and are both using the fullest force of their creativity. It looks like Gnarls Barkley will be around for a while, which in my mind means that one of the freshest new sounds in music is something I can look forward to, not backwards at.

Raymond Douglas Davies is a clever man. As the chief and nearly unchaperoned hit maker for the prolific UK outfit the Kinks, Davies has dabbled in some of the most catchy, interesting and clever rock and roll in the genre’s six decades. Continuing the trend of gentle guitar tones and lyrical satire found on previous Kinks work, Sir Raymond compiled the bulk of the Kinks’ 1967 masterpiece Something Else by the Kinks.

Opening with one of the album’s gems, the up-tempo rocker titled “David Watts,” Davies immediately reveals his sneaky brilliance. Obscured by a boogie-woogie piano and a creeping snare tempo lurks the satirized envy of a high school poster boy. The track is so lovable that listeners immediately apply their own thirsts for high school jocks onto the story’s protagonist.

Although in the mid-60’s The Kinks were making music similar to other British bands like The Who, Something Else demonstrated the splintering of Davies’ song writing style to that of Pete Townshend. Where Townshend and company may bite their tongues while singing harmonies over Roger Daltrey’s proclamation that “they couldn’t prevent Jack from feeling happy,” Davies’ tongue nearly protrudes from his left cheek. On Something Else, Davies manages to paraphrase middle-class abandon, critique the hospitality of the diminishing British Empire, and satirically stab at the treachery of the protestant work ethic, all while presenting a delivery similar to that of the archetypal balding next-door neighbor. Such an effective and misleading common-man disguise had not been successfully reproduced until George W. ran for president as the guy everyone wanted to “drink a beer” with.

The album is a platform for Davies to rip through both his hatreds and lusts in a tone that is both consistently vacant and cheerful. As a result, the song production on the album is both cheery and incredibly endearing. Although the repercussions of such an emotional juxtaposition could be drastic, the album never becomes despondent or stale. Something Else is so gloriously caked in hooks and “la-la-la’s” that the charming wit of Davies is pinned to an increasingly growing wall of honor. Meaning: The Kinks have performed spectacular things on this album. Which spectacular things listeners derive depends on what they are looking for.

Lastly, the album’s closer, the hauntingly beautiful ‘Waterloo Sunset’, is a true beacon in rock and roll history. I have yet to find a better three-minute pop song – either in Davies catalogue or elsewhere.

Listen if you like: The Rolling Stones, The Who, Blur and The Jam.

Tune in to Radio K’s Last Year’s Model on Monday March 24th and 31st at 8pm to hear the consistent babble of hosts Phil and Jordan and listen to all the wonders of Something Else by the Kinks.

The Kinks - No Return

You have heard it a thousand times: jaded rock stars whining about drugs, alcohol, sex and the woes of life on the road. It is hard for the average person to connect to such an aesthetic; however, a refreshing change in subject matter can be found in For Emma, Forever Ago. The debut by Bon Iver is an album inspired by real life, hard work, and a harsh Wisconsin winter.

Bon Iver, misspelled French meaning “good winter,” is the pseudonym of Justin Vernon, former member of the disbanded rock-folk group DeYarmond Edison. After the break-up of the band, Vernon returned to his home in Wisconsin where he secluded himself in his father’s hunting cabin for four frosty months. He filled his days with simple work: sawing and hauling firewood, trips on the tractor and recording. From the loins of this wintry seclusion was born For Emma, Forever Ago, an album dripping with layering harmonies, evocative metaphors and ardent acoustic strums.

The opening track, “Flume,” immediately brings the listener into the album’s rustic aesthetic. Vernon’s double-tracked falsetto, accompanied by simple acoustic chords lures us into his wintry world. The song swells and fades while Vernon’s voice, his most powerful instrument, carries us along for the ride. His lyrics provide similes and alliteration that conjures up powerful imagery: “Only love is all maroon/ Lapping lakes like leery loons/ Leaving rope burns– reddish ruse.”

A few tracks later “Skinny Love” envelops the listener in the neo-soul rhythm and power of the song. With a commanding chorus, Vernon demonstrates that he can not only mesmerize us with his unhinged falsetto, but also pack a powerful vocal punch. Background clapping gives the track a homemade feel, as if you are actually sitting in Vernon’s cabin witnessing his musical confession of a failed romance.

Later in the album, the tracks, “For Emma,” and “Creature Fear,” feature drums and horns. The inclusion of these instruments does not break the ambience of the album, but instead creates songs that are mounting and cathartic. Lyrically the album can range from highly poetic, to muddled and incomprehensible. However, in the case of For Emma, Forever Ago, much of the beauty lies in what Vernon doesn’t say, and is left to the power and emotion already contained within his whimpers and sighs. Vernon closes the nine-track album with “re: Stacks”, a haunting song, both in its chilling delivery and message about nature catching up with us.

For Emma, Forever Ago is an album that feels real. Through simple instrumentals and heartfelt expressions of common sentiments, Vernon has created a living, breathing piece of art. Although each individual track has power of its own, it is the album as a whole that will leave you pleasantly numb. The experience will send Vernon’s bastardized French straight to your heart and make you look at winter, and life in general, in a more positive light.

Bon Iver - For Emma

Many bands manage to generate a single rock and roll gem before ricocheting into the depths of music history hell. Like the Kinks, The Velvet Underground and The Hollywood Argyles, T. Rex defied this explode-and-deflate pathway. In September 1971, T. Rex released an album often heralded as a pinnacle of rock achievement and sexiness titled Electric Warrior. Less than a year later in 1972, bandleader Marc Bolan and company recorded and released an equally stunning but far less appreciated nugget: The Slider.

T. Rex were at the vanguard of the formation and growing popularity of glam rock. With the release of Electric Warrior, the genre became Bolan’s signature muddy guitar tracks and echoing breathy vocals. Where Electric Warrior brought listeners to new heights of sexual ambiguity and rock ‘n’ roll excess, The Slider refined and expanded these characteristics, creating something more closely resembling a phallic relic dressed in sequence. The album’s excessively over-polished production is so successfully juxtaposed against the band’s dirty cock-rock essence that The Slider produces a reaction Beakman would have a hard time dumbing down and regurgitating. The album is far too catchy, far too clever and far too rock and roll to not be described as a glimpse into the heavens.

Perhaps the most refreshing element of The Slider is Bolan’s hyper-self-aware style. When you hear him flawlessly delivering lines as ridiculous as “babe I’ll rabbit fight all over you,” you fall ambivalently between visualizing the scene Bolan describes and picturing good old Marc’s beautiful jaw line drifting toward a carnivalesque grin. The album presents a safeness that proclaims, “yes, rock and roll is ridiculous and yes, that is what I love about it.” The Slider stands drenched in its own excess, all fully exposed and proud.

Check this album out if you like: Slade, David Bowie, Thin Lizzy, Sweet or Mott the Hoople.

T. Rex - Rabbit Fighter

Retribution Gospel Choir, a three man band out of Duluth, Minnesota, features front man Alan Sparhawk, drummer Eric Pollard and bassist Matthew Livingstone. Sparhawk and Livingstone are originally members of Low, a band dubbed one of the pioneers of slowcore. Low, founded in the mid 90’s, was making minimalist music during an era fascinated with grunge. In the new millennium, the boys are upping the noise level with Retribution Gospel Choir, and seem to be reaching back to a style of music from whichthey were once considerably different.

The album wastes no time. The opening track, titled “They Knew You Well”, quickly introduces the listener to heavy drums and bass complimented by mind-bending harmonies that characterize the band’s sound. A couple of tracks later, the break-beat rhythm of “Breaker” will have you tapping your feet and repeating the lurid lyrics again and again in your head. The song, an original by Low, features Sparhawk’s wife (Low member Mimi Parker) lending back-up vocals. Her inclusion adds a husband-wife softness to the hard sound of the instruments. The following track, “Somebody’s Someone”, provides a solo that keeps the guitars cranked and heavy, but also calls upon classic rock solos of legends past.

Mid album, the songs drift from unapologetically hard to an eclectic mixture of soft and upbeat. Lighter tracks like “Destroyer” give the listener time to appreciate the uniqueness of Sparhawk’s voice, while “What She Turned Into” serves as a shockingly upbeat departure from the rest of the album. Sparkhawk’s voice could easily be pegged as a whine, but his on-key harmonies and intense volume transform into a sound better described as hypnotic. Lyrically, the album is sparse and dark, with Sparhawk crooning simple lines like “I am the destroyer” and “our bodies break and our blood just spills and spills”.

The undiluted power and grittiness of the album is a plus, but the song lengths can run teasingly short. Although the band calls upon certain style elements of grunge and classic rock, to boil their sound down to simply a hybrid of the two would be unjust. Overall the combination of gritty guitar, classic rock inspired solos and surprisingly catchy melodies creates a completely new style of music that will pleasantly surprise and remain grounded in your head long after the ear buds come out.

The self-titled debut will be released on March 18 by indie label Caldo Verde, and the St. Paul Turf Club can be expecting a visit from the band on March 22.

Retribution Gospel Choir - For Her Blood

Do you love Elvis Costello like we do? Hidden in the shadow of Costello’s success is a musician that tastes, smells and even sounds like him. Nick Lowe is that musician, and his album Pure Pop For Now People is a benchmark in modern pop.

After honing his talents in a slew of different English pub bands, Lowe released Pure Pop For Now People in 1978 as his first solo album. Combining the eclectic sounds he helped produce on earlier Costello albums, Lowe creates a crunchy machine of poppy singles that have become landmarks of jangling guitars, dissonant vocals and loose drums.

While albums usually sound best when played beginning to end, Lowe’s knack for writing crafty singles allows Pure Pop to break the conventions of the rock’n’roll album. With hooks so memorable they completely ensnare your attention, each track on the record works cohesively with the album, and is able to stand individually.

Lyrically, Pure Pop is like playing a game of Candyland inside a nightmare. The lyrics are dark and dangerous, but sugarcoated with the appeal of pop music. As Lowe tells stories of record company greed, lost genitalia, and pets eating their fallen owners, the album spirals further into the supernatural. The incredible parody that this album takes on is a window into the history of modern pop music. Each song’s style stems from a previously invented genre into something unique – a blend that creates the savory pop tunes of Lowe’s individuality. Pure Pop is a new experience upon every listen. Put the album on random and enjoy all the nuances of power-pop at its best.

Check this album out if you like: Matthew Sweet, Elvis Costello, and Cheap Trick.

To listen to tracks from the album and more stunning info, listen to Radio K’s “Last Years Model” on Monday, February 25th and March 3rd at 8pm.
www.radiok.org

In my pursuit of the new Xiu Xiu album, I stumbled upon another gem released in the same week.
Vampire Weekend’s official full-length debut has taken the spotlight in a big way over the past two weeks. Their eponymous album represents a textbook example of Internet hype controlling a band’s fortunes.

Vampire Weekend mixes a poppy, new-wave sound with West African influences, and features heavy
keyboards and rhythmic instrumentation. Pitchfork Media, the (outgoing?) Official Soviet Opinion of the
“indie” community, has praised the work highly with an 8.8 rating. However, hype for hype’s sake is a
double-edged sword, and the band has fallen from the graces of more than a few blogs after its initial two weeks. The sheer pop-ness of the work is often cited as grating. Music bloggers come in different varieties, and many don’t appreciate being taken on a magical hypery tour any more than I do.

All of that said, Vampire Weekend is holding on as second most-blogged on the Hype Machine, second only to Hot Chip (established enough to have their own zealous followers, among other things). Before I heard this album, I would never have imagined finding African music that featured harpsichords in its production. Vampire Weekend is lyrically dense and often redundant, perhaps owing to the band’s Ivy League origins at Columbia University. They squeeze plenty of verbosity into their 34-minute allotment, which is unusually concise and a definite mark in favor of the band. Songs are short, sweet, and don’t mess around. If you’re looking for a quick, preppy fix for African new-wave you’ve found your scene. It’s definitely worth listening to, if only as ammunition to shout down your local hipster jerk. Songs of note: “M79″, “A-Punk”, and “Mansard Roof,” which was released as a single last fall.

While separation of vocalist and band usually indicates a level of pomposity, Thao with the Get Down, Stay Down is one of the few legitimate exceptions. Thao’s name is detached from the slick and surgical backing band Get Down, Stay Down because she is the commanding sound of the group. Her voice and guitar define the bouncing indie-pop elements of this Virginia-based group, melodies that shine on We Brave Bee Stings and All, their first release with Kill Rock Stars.

Immediately, in the first track “Beat (Health, Life and Fire),” Thao’s band sounds a lot like Tapes n’ Tapes. With a frenetic acoustic guitar rhythm, marching snare, and the lead singer’s playful half speed intonation, it manages to be quick, catchy and charming.

23-year-old Thao Nguyen sounds at once older and younger than she is. Her lyrics call upon youthful imagery like ice cream and bee stings to draw out pieces of lightly jaded wisdom - the kind of wisdom realized after some growing up.

We Brave Bee Stings and All could certainly be considered a “coming of age” album, but it always comes back to her voice and style. It is at once powerful and soft, lazily moving from verse to verse. In a way, any track from the album could easily fit into an iPod or AirMac advertisement, not because it consists solely of potent pop hooks, though there are many, but because Apple seems to obsess on garnishing their gear with tunes from extremely talented female-led indie acts – re: Feist, CSS.

To experience the personality of Thao, visit her MySpace page and check out a few of her videos. Consisting of her playing solo with an acoustic guitar, she plays a few of her songs from the album and one badass Aretha Franklin cover. Here you can see how natural and physical her confidence as a musician is. Check it out.

Thao with the Get Down, Stay Down comes to the Triple Rock on March 14th.
http://www.myspace.com/thaomusic

From the first track on Treetops and Telephone Wires, Dalia’s acoustic sounds draw listeners in for a soft and powerful musical treat. Dalia is the indie solo project of Minneapolis artist Jeni Kozicky, who released Treetops and Telephone Wires in December. Each track features something unique. Although the majority of the songs are solo tracks, Dalia does not limit herself to being another solo-acoustic artist.

“Alley Distribution” features Sean Anon, adding a catchy rhythm and hip-hop flair to the otherwise acoustic song. Later in the album, “The Hum” features New MC, combining New MC’s hip-hop sounds and Dalia’s smooth singing and acoustic guitar. One might question the combination of acoustic and hip-hop, but the two elements compliment each other and create a completely distinct flavor. While Treetops and Telephone Wires only features two hip-hop artists, some of the instrumental beats carry over into other songs, such as “Too Much” and “Pass You By.” If there is such a thing as acoustic hip-hop, “The Hum” does a fine job of demonstrating the combination.

The majority of Dalia’s singing is flowing and ethereal. Some of it is soothing and some is upbeat. The album as a whole is chill, making it easy to sit back and listen to. Dalia’s guitar work is beautifully done. It is pleasing and complex, sometimes singular and sometimes accompanied by additional guitars or percussion. Just as “Heart Strings” introduces the album with the ambient sounds of acoustic guitars, “Music Box,” true to its namesake, gains strength and then fades into silence, gradually signaling the end of the album. Overall, the album is a combination of instrumental acoustic tracks, feature tracks with a hip-hop twist, and solo performances. Dalia is an artist that is definitely all about the music: kick back, relax, and enjoy the sounds.

Do you ever dream of traveling back in time and experiencing a different era? Pressing play on Black Mountain’s ironically titled sophomore album, In The Future, is comparable to strapping into the front seat of the DeLorean and being whisked away into the mind-blowing 1960’s.

The opening track “Stormy High” features powerful guitar riffs imitating those of legendary Black Sabbath. Hard rock fans will be pleased to be offered an alternative from the trend of upbeat mainstream melodies and delivered to the classic sound of raw guitar and forceful drumming. The hard sound is replaced through the middle of the album as the percussion becomes lighter, matching the softer guitar and high falsetto reminiscent of Pink Floyd. Are you sedated yet?

It isn’t until Amber Webber unleashes her entrancing voice on “Queens Will Play” that the listener becomes comfortably numb. It is the quintessential modern psychedelic rock tune, encompassing a dreamy, distant voice and its fusion with solid riffs and steady beats. The atmosphere created by the vocals provides a distraction from the lack of substance in the lyrics. Webber’s hypnotizing talent is a precise match to Jefferson Airplane’s Grace Slick, which is proven again on the final song “Night Walks,” leaving the puzzled wondering where the last hour went.

Although the Vancouver rockers are still signed to the independent label Jagjaguwar, vast mainstream media attention, including snatching a place on the Spiderman 3 soundtrack, could propel Black Mountain and neo-psych rock to wider demographic. Future is the platform to achieve this goal and revive acid rock; maybe there isn’t irony behind the title after all.

8/10

With blood, adrenaline and testosterone spewing from its every orifice, MC5’s Kick Out the Jams is quite possibly the most appropriately titled album in the history of appropriate album titles. The band’s call to “Kick out the jams, Mother Fuckers,” jumps past the cliché “take no prisoners” to floor you with 40 minutes of unremitting rock.

Kick Out The Jams was recorded at Detroit’s Grande Ballroom in late 1968. The album was recorded before a live audience, so MC5’s sound could feed off the crowd’s energy and break the confines of studio. The result is a work comprised of the energies of both the crowd and the band. Combined with the raw power of live rock and roll, the album inspires listeners to kick out the jams, motherfucker.

While the album borrows from guitar blues, rock ‘n’roll, and R&B, it reinvents any established conventions of these genres. Like an early Rolling Stones garage anthem, Kick Out the Jams presents a glimpse of familiarity before it is cloaked and overpowered by a mixture of sweat and psychosis. Using crunching guitars and wailing vocals, the album essentially creates the kind of chaos, which, nearly a decade later, became popularly called punk.

When it was originally released, Kick Out the Jams received less than stellar reviews. Lester Bangs of Rolling Stone Magazine criticized the band for both their outrageous teenage behavior and their borrowed rock ‘n’ roll machismo. Lester - rest in peace man, but you missed the point… you can mock the album’s style and creativity, but it contains some truly special rock ‘n’ roll. While other bands transformed the genre into harder and faster styles, few have come close to the explosive chemistry of the MC5

Lastly: Album reviews cannot give you a full understanding of what Kick Out the Jams is, listening will.

To tell you the truth I’m not sure which one is Tegan, or for that matter who Sara is. Yes, I have seen some captioned picture of them being all cute and stuff, but I still can’t identify their voices as unique entities. However, when the twins join together in their pseudo-harmonies, I become mystified as to why it sounds so good. On their fourth full-length album, The Con, the sisters’ Quin early output of Lilith Fair rock and 80s wannabe riffs is a distant memory. Their sound has been expanded and refined with some outstanding production and the best writing of their career.

Produced by Death Cab for Cutie’s Christopher Walla, the album is a retooling of the duo’s power-pop, filtered through bursts of elastic bass (thanks to AFI’s Hunter Burgan and post-Weezer Matt Sharp), alongside some quirky keyboard parts. The off-tempo relationship between the sister’s vocals and the rest of the band create a sound that is familiar, yet separate from the more straightforward indie pop of Death Cab. The way in which the album builds to finality, on tracks like Dark Come Soon and Call It Off, bears the greatest earmarks of Walla’s production. Overall the album is a marked improvement from their previous recordings. With every album Tegan and Sara has reworked and expanded their musical territory. Rilo Kiley should have left More Adventurous for these girls, The Con really is an outstanding pop record.
8.5/10

Throwing on Victory Records’ The Autumn Offering’s new CD is like taking a step back to simpler times – like 9th grade. Fear Will Cast No Shadow, the Florida metalcore band’s third studio album, wait for it…doesn’t suck.

When working in one of the most culturally denigrated genres of music (behind pop country and ska), to create an album with some artistic merit is a pretty big accomplishment. In fact, being a metalcore band works to The Autumn Offering’s advantage. Instead of having to focus on lyrics (just throw in some blood and dying imagery), the quintet is left to focus on the music, which they do pretty well.

Their stand-in drummer Jon Lee (who has since been replaced by Nick Gelyon) is precise and impressive throughout the album. The guitar work is the definite high point, incorporating thrash licks, heavy breakdowns and Dragonforce-esque harmonic solos.

Fear Will Cast No Shadow’s downfall is vocals, provided by Matt McChesney. McChesney actually isn’t so bad, just really inconsistent with the way he sings. He switches rapidly from growling, to screaming, to whining, to butt-rock droning – all of which he does well. If he just settled on one style, the album would be much more cohesive.

If you’re a remote fan of metal, The Autumn Offering is a band that shouldn’t be quickly overlooked. They have a lot of things going for them, and if given a chance, they may just surprise you.

Overall: 6.5/10

I recently created a sandwich. I call it the Spumonty Cristo because it is derived from a sandwich recipe called the Monte Cristo, served at Grandma’s restaurant on Washington. Music by The Patron has the same air of nonsensical compatibility as my sandwich. The Spumonty Cristo calls for two pieces of lightly toasted bread, sliced deli ham, two pieces of marble jack cheese, and a healthy portion of raspberry preserves spread on one side (better served warm). Despite how incompatible these ingredients might sound, I eat at least one Spumonty Cristo on a daily basis.

The Patron is the first full-length record from To Kill a Petty Bourgeoisie. The album relies on the contradictory sounds of austere feedback beats and the faint, ethereal voice of singer, Jehna Wilhelm. The melodies within the instrumentation are sparse, never more than a three-note arpeggio from any of the synthesizers. The great part about this record is that never music never wanders further towards either extreme. The same parts of this record that are horrifying repellents are also the parts that draw the listener into Wilhelm’s melodies. For this reason The Patron is completely listenable all the way through despite its rough edges.

As the Spumonty Cristo is both sweet and salty, The Patron is simultaneously beautiful and terrifying. The only problem is that the formula never changes throughout all ten tracks; it’s like eating ten Spumonty Cristos in 56:06, which is something I don’t recommend.

Band of Horses exploded onto innumerable rock radars last March with the release of their first album, Everything All The Time. It was an album too beautiful for words. Cease to Begin, released on October 9th, builds on the success of their drifting southern sound, and takes it in a couple of new directions.

As good as their first album was, one song stood out amongst the rest. Entitled, “The Funeral,” it put them on the map and, with its eerie “ooohs,” soaring guitars, and crashing drums and vocals, left many fans goose bump stricken. Though there’s no clear cut single on Cease to Begin, the new album in its entirety captures all the raw emotion of the first album, and takes it to new heights. Several slower, ballad types are reminiscent of older tracks (the hilariously titled “detlef schrempf” being a prime example). Each track is fairly pleasant; frontman Ben Bridwell’s soft croon lends a vulnerability. However, the full Band of Horses effect isn’t reached until the guitars get noisy and Bridwell’s gentle disposition changes to a fiery southern conviction. On tracks like opener, “Is There A Ghost,” and the piano driven, clap/stomp groove, “The General Specific,” Band of Horses make an extremely persuasive case for themselves. Surely a worth your time, this is a band that could grow to be a new favorite.

I give Cease to Begin an 8 out of 10 on Carl’s, I enjoy warm, country rock ballads as much as the next guy, scale of review.

Pictures of Then is a five-dude alternative-indie rock band from right here in Minneapolis. And their debut album, Crushed By Lights, has the potential to put the group on the map on a national level, mostly because of its middle-of-the-road sound.

The 14 tracks don’t pave any new ground, which isn’t necessarily a bad or a good thing. Pictures of Then has the kind of familiar sound forged by bands like Smashing Pumpkins and Built to Spill in the early 90s.

Musically, Crushed By Lights is fine. It has a balance of older alt-rock with a more modern indie feel. Instrumentally and vocally the band works well.

The disappointing part of the album is, working in a genre typically lauded for its lyrical prowess, it doesn’t deliver lyrically. A lot of songs read like screamo sung by an indie rock singer.

There are definite high and low points on the album. The song “Instant Rocket To Glory” is one of the few catchy, up-beat songs on Crushed. It has an OK Go sort of feel to it, which is absent on the rest of the album. “Followed” is broken into a two-part soft waltz that plays like a bad Radiohead song with repetitive lyrics and melody.

On the whole, it would be no surprise if Pictures of Then became popular. They have the right formula for success, and they play in a genre that’s in right now. As a debut album, Crushed By Lights shows a lot of promise. Hopefully the band will mature and expand beyond the realm of familiarity.

Overall: 5.5/10

The hushed whisper and acoustic creakiness of Iron and Wine’s early output could hardly have predicted the growth that has been seen on the bands’ subsequent releases. The Shepherd’s Dog marks the continued evolution of the indie-folkies, which was first seen on the outstanding Woman King EP, and later on the collaboration with Calexico, In the Reins.

While on earlier albums guitarist/vocalist Sam Beam was synonymous with Iron and Wine, the backing band that surrounds his hushed vocals has taken on a greater role, turning the onetime solo project into a wholly collaborative effort. Once again produced and engineered by Brian Deck (Red Red Meat, Modest Mouse), the album steps in and out of styles, while using transitional instrumentation to weave the albums contrasting parts into a whole.

The striking compositions meld the finest parts of Iron and Wine’s early work with rhythm and percussion that borrows heavily from dub, Afrobeat and blues. His evocative voice is layered upon itself, while pedal steel and twinkling pianos mimic his haunting whisper. Lyrically, Beam borrows heavily from biblical imagery as he negotiates with disenchantment and devotion. The Southern-gothic imagery is both guarded and evocative of a musician in the throes of reestablishing his religious and national identity.

The album’s disparate parts slowly fold into one another finally reaching a climax on the closer, “Flightless Bird, American Mouth.” The experimentation fades into the background, while the rhythm section holds back until a minute and half into the song, bringing closure to what is an ambitious portrait of disillusionment.

9.1/10

Album opener, “Kid On My Shoulders,” is a can’t miss. A hypnotic bass line waits under rapid guitars and menacing three part harmonies. It closes with a rousing chant and sweeping chorus of “Ooohhhs.” It’s heavy, fast, and a likely single. My sole grievance is that they never venture too far from this formula. They pull it off equally as well on “Dinner Party,” “Ballroom gloom meets back porch stomp,” “Take A Walk Around The Table,” and album closer, “Tourist Trap.” “I Used To Complain Now I Don’t,” sounds like a tribal take on The Strokes, and I’m not sure if I like it. The rest of the album sort of blurs together. It makes for a fun, and danceable, live show, but it’s not a record I’d play through more than once or twice.

I give this album a 6.9 on Carl’s, “I’m consistently too kind,” scale of review.

You’ve heard all the rumors. Radiohead, a British rock group, recently released their seventh full length album on the Internet… for free. Now I know what you’re thinking, “Where can I, a law abiding college student, obtain a free copy of this trendy new intangible record?” My answer is “Sssssssssssshhhh, if you’re very quiet you can hear it seeping under your roommate’s door, knock before you enter because he’s probably doing his best Thom Yorke impression over the subtle finger plucking melody of ‘Weird Fishes/Arpeggi’ with his hand over his heart. He’s been at it all night and to catch him in the act would be more embarrassing than to catch him masturbating.”

When recommending a band to a friend it can be difficult to find a good place to start. It’s a question of accessibility and finding the album that best represents the band’s other works. This question does not apply to Radiohead. There are no training wheels for this band; you’re a big boy now… here’s Kid A. In Rainbows is a challenging record, the melodies meander, the vocals float nearly hookless over conventional instrumentation, and the lyrics are heartfelt and sincere. Rainbows is the return of a full band that is putting away its hyper-literacy and irony for modest organic sounds and human sentiments. Mortality (“Videotape”) paranoia (“Nude”) and love (“All I Need”) are the core themes of every Radiohead record. What makes In Rainbows different, is the fact that Thom Yorke no longer uses aliens, android children, or desperate dying rabbits as filters for his experiences. In Rainbows is not only a great Radiohead record, it’s also a testament of a twenty-year-old band growing up in the liner notes.

Though Betrayer does clearly draw from the schools of thought listed above, it is not subservient to them. When the album gets brutal (which happens early and often,) some riffs may be reminiscent of something you might hear coming from Scott Hull or Kurt Ballou’s guitar, but only if you separate them entirely from their context. Even though some riffs on this album may seem derivative when looked at note by note, the way they’re played, the way the guitar tone sounds, and the way that they fit with the rest of the music is original yet coherent. The squeals, speed, and brutality on this record are unlike anything else being put out. The sound is like Car Bomb meeting Today is the Day meeting Agoraphobic Nosebleed.

The truly exceptional moment on this record is the fourth track, the nine-minute “Dried Up Goliathan.” Drawing from sludge and post-rock influences, the track is the absolute best that I’ve heard from the post-metal school in the past few years. With effective builds, crushing climaxes, and tastefully executed clean vocals, it doesn’t get any better. Even if you’re not into the skullcrushing violence that takes up most of this record, you’ve got to take a listen, at least just to this track.

This album may not be groundbreaking; but it does post-metal amazingly well, and with a coherent identity. And god damn if that isn’t good enough for me.

The problem is that Grayshot don’t really have an identity. Waiting Days sounds like the kind of “sweeping,” “operatic” pop music that has found a mainstream foothold in the wake of bands like Coldplay, Snow Patrol, and Keane, (two of which are referenced in the band’s bio) slickly produced and ready to be dropped into the closing scene of Gray’s Anatomy. None of the instrumentation, production, or vocal choices showcase originality or spirit beyond popping in a copy of A Rush of Blood to the Head and furiously taking notes. If you want to know what the album sounds like, simply close your eyes, imagine the words “sweeping” and “melody,” and you’re probably hearing Grayshot or something like it.

Honestly, it’s really hard to review an album that doesn’t stray outside of a very narrow formulaic range. You can’t really tear it to pieces because there’s nothing there and you can’t really praise it because, well, there’s nothing there. It just exists in all of its vanilla-flavored glory.

Here’s what it comes down to: If you’re really in need of a fix of sensitive-guy, pseudo-indie balladeering, then, yeah, support your locals and buy Waiting Days. Otherwise, you may want to hold out for something with some signs of life.

The least intriguing aspect of These Curses is Marlah’s insistence to be the paradigm of teenage angst. Curses is the result of a band deciding beforehand to pigeonhole themselves in the melodrama of emo. In fact, the trend of muted guitar bridges, punk drumming, and dramatic pauses is only broken through once the course of the album with the sixth track, a 57 second keyboard solo ironically titled “Unplug the Piano.”

These are the same things that make emo a great genre of music. Marlah’s brand of emo is the creation of a band with limited life experience drawn from living in a suburban vacuum, where kickflips and taking care of business at that drive in movies are the two most important concerns. Together those themes would both be more fun and more believable sentiments than, “our eyes will meet again until the loss of blood makes them close.”

On September 18, the group released Even If It Kills Me, their 13-track third studio album. I am glad to say that we should be proud to have them call Minneapolis home. EIIKM is upbeat, synth-heavy and self-deprecating; everything a good pop punk album should be. Frontman Justin Pierre’s voice is perfect for the style and his lyrics are more clever and unique than 90 percent of the pop music out there today.

The album starts off with its strongest track “Fell in Love Without You” – a fast-paced, robot-influenced ode to moving on. “This Is for Real” is the basic and catchy second song and second single. It’s a great example of the completely fitting and justified over-production that carries throughout the album.

The band’s sound ranges on this album a little more than its previous efforts “Commit This to Memory” and “I Am the Movie.” The song last “Last Night” could almost pass for a late Blink-182 song, while “The Conversation” sounds like something out of Ben Folds’ playbook. The song that will probably bring the most attention to EIIKM is “Broken Heart,” the album’s first single. The track is representative of the entire album – it’s sad and depressing but it’s packaged in such a way that you can’t help but smile when you hear it.

Motion City is a standard for what pop music could be: lyrically strong, good musicianship, fun and catchy. Hopefully these are some trends that will catch on.

Rating: 7.5/10

Like their past album, the newest release is chocked full of what I like to call “Go!-ness” Imagine a high school marching band combined with rapping, cheering, and breakneck electronica, and you have something close to The Go! Team’s style. Proof of Youth is like pure energy. Play it on a lazy afternoon, and by the second song you’ll be off the couch and running a marathon. I was in the middle of the album as I jogged around Dinkytown the other day, and I ended up saving a puppy, kicking a field goal, and hitting a homerun, all while mentally writing this review.

As hard as it is to take the album seriously, it’s not difficult to see the uniqueness of the band’s style. Their sound is completely original and provides a certain indistinguishable satisfaction. However, while the album is certainly enjoyable, it abstains from trying anything new. It has its moments amidst the chanting and trumpets, tracks like the purely instrumental “My World,” but the formula remains the same. Both of their albums require a certain mood to be enjoyed, and may come off as obnoxious to those not expecting a bombardment of “Go!-ness.”

Proof of Youth is like a triple-shot of caffeine. It fills you with energy, but to those not used to the feeling, may leave you overwhelmed. Once adjusted, it will keep you up all night. And, like caffeine, may have you wanting more as it winds down. Proof of Youth receives a 6.6 on Jerimiah’s absolute and indisputable scale of musical astuteness.

The kings of America’s alternative music scene are back. Often heralded as the state’s only answer to Radiohead, these six fellas from Chicago had grown increasingly loud and experimental on their last two studio albums. Both albums, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost Is Born, were met with the loudest of critical acclaim and fan adoration. Then with the 2005’s live release, Kicking Television, Wilco proved themselves an onstage juggernaut, popping eardrums and blowing indie minds nationwide. On Sky Blue Sky, the band is taking a step back; re-embracing their alt-country roots and often electing to turn down their amps, even if only a notch or two. The album numbers 12 in pristinely crafted, jammed-out, traditional stLiterary meet soaring, psychedelic middle-to-ends, and clocks in at just over 51 minutes.

Now when you hear that the new Wilco album is, “turned down,” “softened,” or “understated,” remember these comments are made comparatively within their own catalogue; other bands surely uninvolved. Louder than anything ever defined as country, and, at times, as rocking as anything you’ll discover this summer, it’s well worth any curious music fan’s time. The sixth track of the album, “Shake It Off,” is a perfect example of the bands dreary, front porch sitting strums evolving into a genre-hopping explosion. It creeps timidly forward for the first minute thirty, suddenly mounts to a bouncy, Little Feat stompin’ jam. Another minute and half -later, the mood drops to a provocative, dark-side keys interlude, before bursting into a classic spell of stop and start rock. Three minute opener, the sweetly building “Either Way,” sways and ponders while front man Jeff Tweedy’s typically tormented lyrics venture to the realm of optimistic. Next is, “You Are My Face,” an ultimately harrowing, though initially assured, Wilco jem. The bending keys give way to pounding piano as the mood changes, prompting a thoughtfully dark, then eerily screeching guitar solo from the group’s newest addition, the prodigious Nels Cline. The six minute clocking, “Impossible Germany,” is as good of a time as it was for your 5th grade presidential fitness mile. A rolling piano fused with single note perfection for the first half drifts lazily into a second half of Tweedy/Cline guitar interplay showcasing mastery in their unique class.

Panda Bear, whose real name is Noah Lennox, recently lost his father. The result was Young Prayer an album of soft clapping and wailing mourning, as he fights through his loss with music. “Where are you?” are some of the only discernable words, but if you listen closely, you can put together the phrase, “This is how I’ll talk to you.” The result is an album that is like dark magic, a musical limbo and oddly soothing sound of the living communicating with the dead.

His sophomore album, Person Pitch is a gentler branch off of the freak-alt-folk sound of his larger band, Animal Collective. With songs like “Leaf House,” which sounds like someone singing through a pinched tongue during a ritual, and “Grass,” an up-beat, tribal-percussion tune with a violent chorus of “Pow! Pow! Pow!” is known for doling out the ugly right along with their unconventional madhouse of sounds. Panda Bear ditches the shocks and fury of his band, and creates songs just as strange, but kinder to the ears.

“I’m Not,” is more a meditation than a song. The echoing voices reverberate like ripples in a pond, creating a sense of being in a deep cenote, a sacrificial well in Mexico, surrounded by water, vines, and lurking bones.

“Dressed In Nautica,” and other songs feature a vocal chorus like a Beach Boys song faded in the sun. No element is prevalent enough to give the song a defined structure, so that they all float aimlessly like old radiowaves masterfully blended.

Listen to Person Pitch alone, and experience the sound of the lighter parts of your subconscious.

Having spent time playing in the different areas of his travel, Jennings’ guitar playing is a fusion of several different styles and cultures. The percussive strumming of opener, “The Tortoise and the Hare,” alludes to images of two combating lover as his tango cadence intertwines with long stretches of flamenco style guitar interludes. More of this Spanish and other worldly influences take precedent on the title track, “When Two Become One,” as Jennings dances his fingers across the seemingly endless neck of guitar. Lyrically, all nine tracks seem to be slowly drawn out testaments to various female contemporaries. Two exceptions are the restless for more adventure, “Globetrekker,” and the life path questioning, “The Outer Limits.” They’re a far cry from the effortlessly catchy tunes crafted by older brother Mason, but that’s not what he’s aiming at. It’s an eclectic mesh of his international guitar capacity and is well worth a listen.

I give this album a 6.5 out of 10 on Carl’s, less callous than Pitchfork yet more rational than RollingStone, scale of review.