When I first thought about the combination of hip-hop and rock back in middle school, I thought it was the best idea ever. But then I sadly discovered that the genre “rap-rock” was led by bands such as Rage Against the Machine, Limp Bizkit, and Kottonmouth Kings, all of which I have little to no interest in. Even after years of broadening musical horizons, I haven’t found any artist that has lived up to my expectations of this infusing of genres—until I heard Pip’s second track “Let Em Come.” The backing drums and guitar during the chorus is what you would expect to find in a hardcore song and Pip goes just as hard, with solid verses by local P.O.S. and Sage Francis.

The transition from spoken word to hip hop is awkward and unsuccessful for many, but not Pip. He harnesses clever, poetic lyrics that keeps the music interesting, but the problem with this album is the production value, which is, unfortunately, noticeably low. The powerful lyrics in the politically charged “Soldier Boy Kill Em,” a spoof of “Crank That (Soulja Boy),” and the intense “Domestic Silence” would have a greater effect if the music didn’t sound so disjointed from his voice. Hopefully this album will get the attention of the right people who will give him the proper facilities to record while also letting him keep his unique style.

Plinking pianos and eerie sounds await you on your trip to the ends of the Earth. WME is a fairytale from a parallel universe that has many twists and turns. Being released shortly after their well received EP The New Atlantis, WME is an hour long trip filled with entrancing guitar, ghostly vocals, and trumpet capable of playing a variety of roles. Bouncing back and forth between light hearted romps to haunting lo-fi ballads, every song on the album has its own character. The pacing of WME is fantastic, switching between engaging instrumentals and surreal lyricism. Songs such as “Enduring Love” provide an experience that seems surreal and desolate yet at the same time fill with a feeling of nostalgia and familiarity, while other songs fulfill the roles of rocking anthems for the album. On songs such as the intro tune “Live on in Photographs” the lead vocals border on whiney, yet most of the time this is countered by the ominous background vocals. Overall Where the Map Ends is strong debut album that delivered, after an EP that had us all hoping.

Overall, the album is well thought out and put together. Grace’s harmonious vibe and heartfelt songs will be more than enough to wet the musical appétit for her fans and music connoisseurs alike. If Written On gives us any glimpse of what we can expect from Grace’s future projects, then fans need not fret because this is only the beginning.

With her new record, Let England Shake, she once again proves to be uncompromising, releasing the first political album (in her own words) of her career. The last time she had an album with a single theme was Stories of the City, Stories of the Sea, full of what some critics dismissed as simple songs about a common thing, love.

Just as dismissing Stories as rough adult contemporary is unjust, labeling Let England Shake as a generic political album or a predictable artistic exercise is unfair. It is a little off setting to hear her sing about war and death and what man hath wrought, but she makes political songwriting her own, never becoming overtly political while never simply dancing around a message. The line between humor and seriousness becomes obscured as she wields the inseparable duo of black comedy and brutal honesty to her advantage.

The lyrics are accompanied by what could be called pop music, assembled from scraps of orchestration, cryptic samples, and heavy strumming of a harp. This proves to be greater than the sum of its parts, apparent the moment the album begins.

Following Captain Beefheart’s death late last year, an interview with Harvey was conducted in which she said that Beefheart acted almost like her mentor, as he offered her feedback on her albums. She felt that he would have liked this newest effort, that it was more akin to his own work and his personal tastes.

That may sound arrogant at first, but on Let England Shake she has created a strange, uncompromising look at humanity. A work that in its eccentricities proves an artistic statement uncommon in today’s music scene. It’s clear that Polly Jean isn’t just going through the motions, which is something that Beefheart could very well approve of. PJ Harvey – Let England Shake
By: Matt Rich
WC: 329

PJ Harvey, despite being overly associated with an assumed exclusive feminine identity in rock music, has never demonstrated the one track mind domineering opinions would like her to have.

With her new record, Let England Shake, she once again proves to be uncompromising, releasing the first political album (in her own words) of her career. The last time she had an album with a single theme was Stories of the City, Stories of the Sea, full of what some critics dismissed as simple songs about a common thing, love.

Just as dismissing Stories as rough adult contemporary is unjust, labeling Let England Shake as a generic political album or a predictable artistic exercise is unfair. It is a little off setting to hear her sing about war and death and what man hath wrought, but she makes political songwriting her own, never becoming overtly political while never simply dancing around a message. The line between humor and seriousness becomes obscured as she wields the inseparable duo of black comedy and brutal honesty to her advantage.

The lyrics are accompanied by what could be called pop music, assembled from scraps of orchestration, cryptic samples, and heavy strumming of a harp. This proves to be greater than the sum of its parts, apparent the moment the album begins.

Following Captain Beefheart’s death late last year, an interview with Harvey was conducted in which she said that Beefheart acted almost like her mentor, as he offered her feedback on her albums. She felt that he would have liked this newest effort, that it was more akin to his own work and his personal tastes.

That may sound arrogant at first, but on Let England Shake she has created a strange, uncompromising look at humanity. A work that in its eccentricities proves an artistic statement uncommon in today’s music scene. It’s clear that Polly Jean isn’t just going through the motions, which is something that Beefheart could very well approve of.

While my former love of Chiodos and From First to Last may predispose me to like this band, they include all aspects of the alternative rock music scene. Each member brings a breadth of experience allowing their self-titled debut album to combine elements of screamo, pop-punk, classical, and hardcore. In the midst of this fusion, their sound has managed to stay unique and intense. They haven’t gone down the path of other supergroups who let their egos get in the way of creating good music.

“Stop Reading, Start Doing Pushups” is for the moshers. “Mr. Owl Ate My Metal Worm” is for the emos, or just the emotional. “My Swagger Has a First Name” is for those who miss the combination of good music and screaming. “I’m Here to Take the Sky” is for the pop lovers and could easily be the feel-good hit of summer 2011. Despite these highlights, I guarantee there will be songs you don’t like at first. Take this advice though: listen to them a few times before making any judgements. The first time I heard “Sex Life” I thought the lyrics were just plain bad. Now I turn it up to the maximum volume that I can get away with without driving my roommates crazy whenever it comes on. I can’t give you a specific reason why I had such a change of heart except that the catchiness of this album is out of control.

You can stream the entire album on their Facebook page if you want to take a listen before you buy it—but remember my advice.

He Gets Me High seems to be a calculated statement of maturity from Dee Dee; although the EP is only four songs it sends a clear message: The Dum Dum’s aren’t interested in being pegged as “lo-fi” anymore. From the moment the opener “Wrong Feels Right” kicks in, you can tell there’s been a real shift: the rhythm section sounds tight and professional, and there’s plenty of subtle reverby guitar for ear candy. The lead single and title track is a great little pop tune, with a confident grinding bass-line that swaggers the song forward. It might have been fair to question whether Dee Dee could bring a strong vocal performance forward without the mask of fuzz that covered I Will Be, but she proves herself to be a capable singer with a clear voice garnished by some 1950’s flavor. The early take on Dee Dee as a female Joey Ramone seems inaccurate after this EP, a better comparison might be Debbie Harry or Chrissie Hynde: a punky attitude married to pop aspirations.

The first B-Side “Take Care of My Baby” isn’t quite as effective. While it seems like the group had the best of intentions for the dirgey waltz, it veered just a bit just too far into the schmaltzy side of the Wall of Sound. The record closes with a cover that I was honestly a bit apprehensive about: The Smiths “There is a Light that Never Goes Out”. The Dum Dums do an faithful interpretation of the tune though, with Dee Dee seeming to relish her chance to play with Johnny Marr’s excellent licks. Somewhere near the end of the cover one starts to miss the hurt of the original though, as the newer version never quite matches the emotional impact Morrisey and Co. brought to the table.

For such a young band, Dum Dum Girls have quite a consistent output, and while some of He Gets Me High may sound too glossy for its own good, it does seem like the group is headed for big things. Ultimately, it’s a charismatic sound that can win over even the grouchiest of naysayers, and I should know, because up until this release, I was one.

Polly Jean Harvey has never been the type of musician to play it safe.  By constantly recreating her sound with each album and transforming herself visually for her theatrical live shows, PJ has concreted herself into the hearts of her audience.  Her new single “Written on the Forehead,” from her forthcoming album Let England Shake, shows she still has plenty of tricks up her sleeve.  Now entering into her second decade of putting out albums, PJ is attempting to tap into the social conscious of the world by focusing her lyrics on warfare and shifts in political power. 

Instead of performing these lyrics in her raw, guttural timbre to showcase the weight of the current social situation, she starts off the single by painting the picture of a war-struck city and the plights of the citizens involved.  Sampling the classic reggae song “Blood and Fire” from Niney the Observer, she creates an interesting middle ground between bright and dreamy delivery and the stark imagery of people scrambling to exit a burning city.  Known for her thoughtful and melancholic songwriting, her new album promises to explore the timeless tragedies of war and what that means for the individuals involved. 

This album is going to cover new territory for PJ, straying away from her past topics of love and abusive relationships.  Let England Shake drops February 14 on Vagrant Records. 

The Decemberists – The King is Dead
Chase Mathey

The voice of Colin Meloy is not a voice that one forgets overnight. The front man of the gypsy-infused, indie-folk band, The Decemberists, almost always sounds as if he is on the verge of tears while confessing his lyrics of hardship and love. The rest of this five member band accent Colin’s voice with instruments and sounds which are just as unique. The Decemberists have been a highly regarded contributor to the indie music scene since their first EP release,  5 Songs, in 2001. Since then, they have released four more EPs and five full-length albums, including The Crane Wife and The Hazards of Love, which both broke the Billboard Top 40; The Hazards of Love reaching all the way to the number 14 spot.

Now in their tenth year, The Decemberists are releasing their sixth full-length album, The King is Dead, which released January 18. This highly anticipated album was recorded last spring in Pendarvis Farm, Portland, OR, where the PICKATHON Indie Roots music festival is held. Peter Buck, the guitarist of R.E.M. and one of Colin Meloy’s largest influences, will be featured on three of the tracks on the upcoming album, including the album’s single,  “Down by the Water.”

With sorrowful lyrics, Peter Buck on 12-string guitar and Appalachian singer

Gillan Welch on back-up vocals, “Down by the Water” has a great sound and feel that carries on to the rest of the album.

Thus, the group’s newest album, Light Chasers, was officially released in stores on September 14th and they have been touring ever since. If you have been unable to attend a live show, there is still the possibility of viewing some of these vibrant paintings. Scott West, one of the onstage painters, is currently exhibiting his work at the Tarnish & Gold gallery in Northeast Minneapolis under the title STILL. In true Cloud Cult fashion, West is unable to fit into the mold of a typical gallery show, saying that it will also be part performance art. He will be present during open hours at the gallery, painting even more work and rearranging the pieces that are already in place. If two artistic mediums weren’t enough, a special screening of the Cloud Cult documentary, created by West and John Paul Burgess, was held at Tarnish & Gold on Thursday, November 11th with both artists present.

West’s work within STILL is neither disappointing nor revolutionary, but it is very accessible and interesting. When speaking about his work, he has said that he takes characters and themes imagined while onstage during Cloud Cult sets and brings them into his studio to evolve. The natural world, a common theme within Minowa’s songs, is taken to another level through West’s seamless combination of noticeable characters with visually engaging abstraction. Two portraits that hang side-by-side are the obvious standouts. One titled, “I feel like the rain,” is of a man’s face (a self-portrait?), depicted in colors conveying a dark warmth and concern, everything below the nose melted, dissolved. Its partner, “And if my eyes were on my back,” is cold and melancholy, presented to the audience through the cool tones and tortured expression of a woman’s face, but it melts upwards instead. As this is an evolving show, by now there could be even more compelling pieces such as these.

Since I decided to peruse these works of art on the same night the Cloud Cult documentary, No One Said It Would Be Easy, was being screened, I had the chance to see West and John Paul Burgess, the directors, give an introduction. I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed a more appropriate introduction to anything in my entire life. John spoke of his first tour documenting the group and how it ended up being nothing like he expected. In particular, he acknowledged his association of rock tours with late-nights, non-stop partying, and heroin, but admitted, “It wasn’t like that at all…everyone went to bed at nine.” Then, in his conclusion, he shared an oddity about the production, “There was a strangely emotional push to finish at the end. I’m curious to see how it will hold up.” In a moment of unimaginably perfect timing, half of the tape holding the makeshift screen to the ceiling immediately peeled off, sending it crashing down behind the director. It was quickly repaired and stayed intact throughout the film, but it seemed like an ominous sign at the time.

Now, I’ve been a fan of Cloud Cult ever since my brother burned me a copy of The Meaning of 8, but, to put it nicely, their music videos have always been sub-par, especially for one of their most popular songs, “Chemicals Collide.” That video is a mix between a screensaver and Video Production 101 effects. Needless to say, I didn’t have high expectations for this film. I nonchalantly ate a bag of free popcorn, provided by the gallery owners, as I watched a typical testimonial of people talk about how they were affected by their music. This may have been a good opening had it not been used by every band who has ever made a promotional video.

I’ve heard you always get hit when you’re at your most vulnerable, and this proved that theory. The depth at which Burgess got into Minowa’s soul was as inspiring as it was heart-wrenching, exposing him both at his most proud and his most tortured. That’s what it was about mostly, Minowa and how he began and developed everything that is Cloud Cult, building this family around him. The format was an amalgamation, taking traditional elements of documentary (interviews, tour footage, narrated pictures) and mixing them with music video, science class lesson, and animation elements. This allowed for the odd, typical Cloud Cult flavor to make a unique appearance without contaminating the raw emotion.

As for Light Chasers, it is a concept album in which every song deliberately flows from one to another, creating a story line from “The Mission: Unexplainable Stories (Journey to the Light, Pt. 1)” all the way to “Arrival: There’s So Much Energy in Us.” Some may find this format intriguing, but many people will undoubtedly think something along the lines of, “So this means it’s some experimental music I have to listen to all together every time?” No, despite the many critics who have taken this stance, most of the songs on the album can stand alone. I would even say that some of them are the best that Cloud Cult has ever created, such as “Today We Give Ourselves to the Fire,” “Running with the Wolves,” and “There’s So Much Energy in Us.” I urge you, whether you first heard of Cloud Cult long ago or this is your first time, to at least look into some of these artistic endeavors: this album, documentary, or art show. I dare you to not feel a connection.

Duenday’s one of the young groups like Illuminous 3 that seems hungry to fill that void, showcasing a laid back, sorta old-school flow over lush backpack rap beats that they make in house. Rappers In2wishin and Initial MC crafted this self-titled debut while still in college (Intial’s a U of M boy) but the duo aren’t serving up any open-mic night rhymes here. Duenday have a charming, slightly goofy steez that’s firmly grounded in their Southside hippie-hoodrat lifestyle and write tracks that range from lightweight house-party bangers like “Matt’s Cool Raps” to environmental politics on “What’s Happening” featuring the venerable Unicus from Kanser. The two mc’s have a precocial talent for weaving their verses around one another’s and both seem to approach the mic with a smile and a mutual chemistry that belies their offstage friendship. In2 even proves he’s got a pipes by singing a few of the album’s hooks like on “Both Sides of the Spectrum”, the record’s for-your-sorrows cut.

“Bounce”, the track that introduced most of us to Duenday is a great entry point to the group: it’s a confident and skillful identity statement with a chill soul beat and great teamwork on the hook. In other words, it’s exactly the kind of hot single that these talented young up-and-comers need to make their mark on the local hip-hop scene.

The record kicks off with a bass-heavy roots rocker that sounds like a leftover Attractions b-side, thanks to the man himself Steve Nieve being called back up to fill organ duties. Fans of Costello’s earlier work shouldn’t get too excited, however. From the gypsy folk jazz of the second cut “Jimmy Standing in the Rain” onward, the King takes his listeners on a wild scattershot of his past dalliances. There are thick strings and overtones of Costello’s classical dabbling on tracks like “Stations of the Cross” that brush against stately country tearjerkers like “That’s Not the Part of Him You’re Leaving.” Not to neglect the strong playing on the album’s bluegrass and western-swing portions by Elvis’ crack string sextet The Sugarcanes, or the excellent rhythm section that the Impostors provide for country rockers.

If you’re just now catching on, National Ransom is a big record, with a lush wall of sound dynamic that occasionally works against it. The record is just a bit too long, and certain cuts sound like they would benefit from the tighter, edgier instrumentation of Costello’s earlier work. Still, it’s a masterfully composed set of songs from a titan of songwriting. We can nitpick, but at the end of the day National Ransom is still a must-have for the King’s loyal subjects.

All Delighted People is a welcome return to music (as he never lost form) for Sufjan Stevens. Clocking in at nearly sixty minutes, it’s certainly not an EP in the sense of length but it could of as an EP in that it doesn’t deter from a single subject. The EP features Sufjan exploring subject matter on love and anxiety and what makes all these delighted people human. It’s all very emotional, very much like the brief recollections of young love and flirtations in youth’s ardor on Seven Swans but without all that religion.

The extended song lengths (two songs over ten minutes in length) should be no surprise to anyone familiar with his work, in that anyone familiar knows that the length only means that song has numerous twists and turns to take on, which only makes the music more interesting.

“The Owl and Tanager” is particularly revealing, entailing a run-in with an angry father over the phone (described with haunting chants of “you little boy, you little boy”), occurring after descriptions of sleeping in the same room followed by running away, all sung in a tone conveying as much fear of intimacy as the words themselves carry.
Both versions of the title track are vibrant enough to not get old, as the classic rock version adds enough to the original to justify its inclusion. “Djohariah” is an excellent closing song. It beautifully flows through various movements while encapsulating the various moods and themes established earlier on the album. It is a moment like this that make me appreciate Stevens’ “lack of faith in the song”, as he want let himself be limited by traditional definitions of just what a song (or album or EP for that matter) is, which allows for this type of experimentation.

AGE OF ADZ
Age of Adz leaves behind observation of human accomplishments as Stevens explores what escapes human living, in that it was inspired by the prophecies of Royal Robertson of the end of the world and the rebirthing of existence and assorted schizophrenic hallucinations and pursuits. Robertson’s paintings were also the inspiration for the visual direction of Age of Adz artwork.

Sufjan hasn’t completely left humanity and its pursuits behind. He hasn’t even left his own humanity and his respective pursuits behind. “Too Much” testifies to this, with its pleads to escape from emotional commitments. Lines like “if I was a different man/If I had blood in my eyes/I could’ve read of your heart ” and “Maybe I talk too fast/Maybe I talk too much” lend a lot of worry to the mood of the song and the repeated pleas of how “there’s too much riding on that” completes the picture of an exhausting and emotionally laborious psyche.

The more epic type of lyrical imagery comes at different moments on the album. The title track is one of these tracks, entailing descriptions of “the age of adz eternal living” and the very moment “when it dies”. The music is all very suiting, moving back and forth from sweeping fanfare and heavy drum machines to ambient, ethereal soundscapes provided by synthesizers. The final song, “Impossible Soul”, is over twenty-five minutes long, features auto-tune, and at one point morphs into a dance song. This is all completely new territory for Stevens but he finds room for it all in his vision

The entire album moves back and forth through songs of extremely personal subject matter to massive prophetic visions of existence. The album is the perfect follow up to the more familiar All Delighted People because Age of Adz takes that familiar sound and continues to find new sounds to experiment with, which is a real testament to Stevens’ reputation as an artist constantly moving forward with his visions.

CONCERT

Whilst sitting in the Orpheum Theatre, waiting for the concert to begin, the anticipation was killing me. This was his chance to redeem himself, not just for the last concert in Minneapolis, but also for the last five years of detraction from the spotlight.

Despite talk of him detaching from his older work, he began the set with Seven Swans’ title track. The very large band he had (notable backed by Nedelle Torrisi on vocals, Bryan Devendorf of the National on drums) transformed the song from a solemn acoustic number to a loud electric opening number as if it were getting a facelift to better fit his new material.

As such they spent the rest of the concert playing material from his latest releases, all of which was very good. Not once did was there a dull moment. Even when he broke off for awhile to speak on his latest influences (Royal Robertson, recent anxiety) it was interesting, since Sufjan Stevens is quite elusive when it comes to releasing this type of information to the public or in interviews. In the event he slipped up, he recovered with such a grace and couture (and humility) that I couldn’t call it anything but grade A showmanship.
On that note, the band was incredibly well rehearsed and not a single instance of being out of tune or off key could be made note of. The presentation wasn’t limited to the band, however, as throughout the entire show there was a massive artistic presentation surrounding the band, with lights flashing towards the audience and a large screen behind the band featuring visuals accompanying the music.

The most notable performance was of “Impossible Soul”, the twenty-five minute closer on Age of Adz. Sufjan Stevens did everything the studio recording entailed, but added into it a flashy dance routine with large sunglasses and tinsel-tailed baseball caps. He and his back up dancers routines (including Nedelle Torrisi) were vibrant and a welcome touch to the songs and the visual experience as a whole.

He ended the set with a rousing performance of “Chicago”. Standing ovations throughout the entire theatre followed which in turn guaranteed an encore, which consisted entirely of Sufjan and company revisiting older material. Illinois and Seven Swans saw acoustic performances of “Casimir Pulaski Day”, “The Dress Looks Nice On You”, and “Concerning the UFO Sighting Near Highland, IL”. Much more applause and standing ovations recognized such a wonderful finale.

This 1963 concept album by batshit musical genius Charles Mingus is widely recognized as one of the greatest compositions of all time. Written as a six-part jazz ballet, “The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady” is an incredibly emotional, beautiful experiment in orchestrated chaos. Mingus called this his masterpiece, and I wouldn’t argue with him (partly because I completely agree, and partly because arguing with Charles Mingus never ended well).

Deltron 3030
“Deltron 3030”

Deltron 3030 is/was a rap supergroup consisting of Del tha Funkee Homosapien, Dan the Automator and DJ Kid Koala, who released this space-opera concept album in 2000. It’s about the future, android and cyber warlords, has guest appearances up the wazoo from Damon Albarn to Prince Paul to Sean Lennon, and contains the line “Fuck dyin’, I hijack a mech” in the opening track. Need I say more?

Genesis
“The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway”

Before Peter Gabriel got busy playing Magnetic Fields covers, writing songs for Pixar soundtracks, and even before “Sledgehammer,” he was playing ringleader in the highly influential prog-group Genesis, who released the double concept album “The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway” in 1974. It’s about a Puerto Rican kid named Rael living in New York City who goes underground and explores cool shit like red corridors filled with carpetcrawlers, caverns of blinding light, and colonies of slippermen in order to find his brother, John, and in doing so, find himself, man… The lyrics are reminiscent of one of those early text adventure video games, and the instrumentation basically exemplifies the term progressive, making “Lamb” one of those records that still sound great even in these days of auto-tune and Gaga ladies and fully forgiving Genesis for ever releasing “I Can’t Dance.”

Titus Andronicus
“The Monitor”

New Jersey lo-fi punk band Titus Andronicus released this concept album in March to near universal acclaim. It’s based on the Civil War, as evidenced by song titles such as “A More Perfect Union” and “Four Score and Seven” and lyrics about how much being a soldier, having to shit yourself and watching people die all suck. It seems obvious and lame to compare this band and record to Bruce Springsteen, but it’s really more than appropriate with references to New Jersey, rambling piano solos, and lines like “Tramps like us, baby we were born to die” running rampant. “The Monitor” is a lofty project but not to a fault, because the band accomplishes everything they set out to do in its hour-and-five-minute run time. It plays out like a drunken, hopeless, sloppy “Born To Run” that’s not actually sloppy. And it fucking rocks.

“Home” rides along on a toe-tapping country two-beat while Deschanel delivers a vocal performance dripping so thick with charm that it’s almost impossible not to fall in love with her. There’s hardly any singing from Ward on Volume Two, and it seems a shame to place such a fantastic voice in the background, but of course the real star of the show is Deschanel, who is more than happy to croon and warble her way adorably through the record. She and Him aren’t venturing into particularly profound territory here, and some of the songs sound suspiciously Prius-commercial-ready, but one couldn’t ask for a better summer record: lazy, warm and charming enough for a garden party.

Tracks like “How We’ve Grown” and “Pomegranate” start quite pleasantly, with a catchy viola melody that loops along while layers of strings and percussion are added, with Mattson’s lilting voice providing a delicate vocal melody. Quickly however, the almost limerick-like sing-song nature of Mattson’s voice starts giving the listener painful flashbacks to Barenaked Ladies. Mattson seems to almost be working against himself in a fashion, as the painful subject material of “The Icarus” seems downright silly when it’s being delivered in such a fashion, and the constant looping of the omnipresent viola wears those initially catchy melodies to death. The album’s strongest moments come when Mattson steps outside of the sing-song: “Mr. Butterfly” is a touching ballad showcasing the real vulnerability and emotion missing from the rest of the album, hopefully a sign of better things to come from the very promising Anders Ponders.

The first song on The Stooges is called “1969,” and its abrasive, confrontational punk spirit and sound immediately makes it clear that The Stooges are not mourning the end of the 60s. One pictures singer Iggy Pop stumbling through hippie havens, scowling and swearing, subconsciously building the momentum that would explode onto his band’s first record. This was a new kind of rebellion.

Drawing from The Troggs and The Rolling Stones, The Stooges presented a concise, brawny strain of rock that bands have been attempting to imitate ever since. Ron Asheton’s guitar switches from crisp, simple riffs to squealing, screeching, brilliantly discordant solos. Not to be outdone, Iggy Pop announces his arrival by the end of the contemptuous, swaggering first verse of “1969” and needs only the brief 34 minutes of The Stooges to show that he won’t be going anywhere, like him or not (he would probably prefer the latter). The Stooges is a lean piece of punk rock, just as vital now as it was then.

The Strokes – Is This It

In an era where too many people are trying way too hard, Is This It, The Strokes’ debut LP, is effortless. Singer Julian Casablancas’ voice evokes weariness and confidence in equal measures, but it always rolls and croaks at exactly the right times. Guitars and bass toss off perfect hooks, often several in a single song, cause why not if you’ve got a thousand of em. Drummer Fabrizio Moretti puts down such flawless, succinct underpinnings for the songs that you forget that nobody can nail it that well.

These are the kind of skills that musicians earn after tours upon tours and the bruises to prove it. Not these guys. And they’re handsome bastards on top of it.

Perhaps it’s because I looked to Lou Bega and Sugar Ray to define rock and roll for me before this record came along, but this has always been the record against which all others are measured for me. How did a bunch of slacker NYC kids make the best record of the aughts? Hard to explain.

Cloudkicker is a four-piece instro/prog/metal-ish band from Britain, and they’ve put out a slew of EPs in the last few years that are reminiscent of what Pelican could do if they sacked their drummer. Their songs move seamlessly back and forth between sections of gigantic layered feel-good chords and tightly frenetic rhythmically complex headbangers.

The only weakness evident here is structural: while every single riff in these 15 minutes is an excellent riff, there is not much order to them. A riff is played until it is done being played, at which point the next riff starts. The songs aren’t ordered into repeating sections, and there is no sense of build or climax. But Cloudkicker is a pretty new band, and they show clear talent as musicians and riffcrafters. Keep an eye out for their future activities.

Oh, and one more thing: all of their music is free. Go to http://cloudkicker.uk.googlepages.com and download yourself some.

Ethical issues aside, the Drops fare better when they stick to old-time covers. “Don’t Get Trouble In Your Mind” in particular is a fun track, the youth of the players lending it the energy it needs to succeed. This is maybe the best understanding of the record: young people playing music they love with the energy it deserves. But when they stray from their subgenre the results are subpar: “Reynadine” is a real wincer, Tom Waits’ “Trampled Rose” is better left alone, and the only original song on the record, “Kissin’ and Cussin’,” differs greatly from the rest of the album in mood and instrumentation, in addition to not being very good.

I asked as many people as possible to review the same album for this issue. My idea was to showcase the essential and inescapable subjectivity of criticism, and to that end I chose a challenging record: The Purging Trilogy, a two-hour-long avant-guitar album by guitarist Mick Barr. The record is split into three parts: Ixoltion, Sacreth, and Hymns. As I expected, every assertion put forth in one of these reviews is contradicted in another, and above all every reviewer displayed their personal style of criticism.

Pete Noteboom
It’s a massive translucent pirate ship filled with damned souls holding scimitars cutting through the clouds. It’s a gigantic zeppelin exploding in mid-air amid a hail of flaming comets. It’s a young boy watching from the mountains with mouth agape as extraterrestrials decimate his small village with huge futuristic laser beams. It’s the dark matter that holds universes together. It’s high, high above you. It’s exhilarating electric narcolepsy. It’s a new kind of Raga. It’s long, it’s challenging, it’s natural. It’s guitars!!!!!!!!!

Smudge
Mick Barr’s solo effort under the name Ocrilim is almost two and a half hours of mediocre musicianship, slow and self-indulgent guitar noodling, and redundant harmonies. The whole thing reminds me of the posthumous J Dilla record Donuts in that it sounds like pages haphazardly ripped out of a musician’s sketchbook; no song sounds complete. I can only think that the title of this record comes from the feeling Barr got when he finally vomited out all of the musical refuse deep in his gut. The Purging Trilogy isn’t abrasive enough to be noise rock or desolate enough to be drone or doom metal; this is an interlude in background noise.

Andrew Bergstrom
I was very impressed by The Purging Trilogy, a composition from the mind of Mick Barr. Multilayered tracks of guitar grind and shred a wordless tale; the more-than-two-hour-long trilogy sounds like an opera for guitar, and Barr’s insane speed and somewhat spastic playing style evoke the stage performance of Paganini, who played as though possessed. Though it may be difficult to appreciate on the first listen, the album is wonderfully executed, epic and welcome push on the boundaries of music and of art.

Kevin Tully
The set-up of this set of records is simple: it’s basically 2 hours and 12 minutes of one dude playing guitar. Now, I’m totally in awe of anyone that can see a project of that magnitude to completion—that’s fucking impressive, I don’t care what you’re into—but is appreciating this behemoth the same as enjoying it? I understand why people like heavy-handed experimental musicians like Ocrilim, and if this sort of music is your thing then you’re gonna love The Purging Trilogy. It’s just not my thing. I’m not asking for the two hours of my life I spent listening to it back, I’m just saying that I probably wouldn’t do it again.

Angela Sanders
For an album that is over two hours long, not a whole lot happens. The Purging Trilogy is a huge undertaking for the listener, and while I can appreciate Barr’s technical skills as a guitarist, I cannot help but be dissatisfied with the product as a whole. “Ixoltion” and “Sacreth” have a constant drone in the background and not much layered on top of it. “Hymns” had some variety, but the technical aspect had lost its intrigue and I felt like I was listening to my life just hum by. Music should be more engaging than that.

Eric Brew
The Purging Trilogy is like eating processed, organic sugar straight from the packaging. It’s difficult to put into words: it’s absurdly satisfying as it’s being consumed, but in retrospect you realize you probably shouldn’t have eaten it; your tastebuds are shocked. Everything will taste flat for a while. Mick Barr’s sense of timing is incredible, and the depth of his compositions calls for every listener’s veneration of his talent. The structure can also be overwhelming if you pay too close attention. It can feel over-processed, as if Barr were a supercomputer calculating his next lick according to data pulled from an impressionist painting. Barr is obsessed with pattern and arrangement that can be too redolent of sugar and salt crystals at times.

Sam Johnston
In the time it takes to listen to The Purging Trilogy I can listen to “Bad Romance” 27 times, but fate has other plans for me.  With the first searing chord of “Ixolition” the walls of my house are blown down and there before me hovers, impossibly, Ocrilim himself, illuminated only by a thousand orbs of mythical energy floating upward against the pull of gravity.  He reaches toward me and issues a single command, “Take my hand, slave, and let us be free.”  I have no choice but to comply.

Zach McCormick
These songs, while all virtuosic and technical and lofty, aren’t that engaging. Great playing simply does not equal a great album, and this record will only appeal to diehard genre fans, who will probably love it because it’s a masterpiece. Everyone else is going to run in horror away from the mental sandpaper that is layer upon layer of buzzing, treble-heavy guitar constantly switching tempo. If Rachmaninov had been raised in a stoner metal band, this is probably what he would have come up with.

Natalie Heath
If I were to make a movie about a cat trying to escape from a paper bag that has been set on a conveyor belt inching toward some sort of giant smashing device, I would choose Ocrilim’s Purging Trilogy as the soundtrack. And this is no ordinary cat on its way to certain death; this is like the greatest cat, you love this cat, and you care deeply that it escapes. The intensity and scratchiness of Ocrilim’s like 200 guitars would provide the perfect musical narrative for my gruesome cat death movie: the movement of the guitars would correspond to the wild movements of the cat and the whole thing would probably say something really profound about the futility of struggle; I mean, this paper bag is really thick and cats aren’t that strong.

Sage Dahlen
This album could be described as a soundtrack to a torrential rainstorm, or a migraine headache. It’s long, full of self-indulgent, unremarkable noodling with some badass grunge and metal riffs interspersed. (I’ll save you some time: the best track is part 3 of “Sacreth.”) The Trilogy, however, is not long in an I-want-my-life-back way, because it never fully holds your attention. You can troll around on the Internet or make dinner while Mick Barr twiddles his fingers over guitar strings.

Peter Starkebaum
It all starts with a pain-bearing, angst-spiked guitar. In this horror there is an attraction; the notes feel sensitive and bare, like an open nerve being sliced. A sense of relief comes in Sacreth when the percussion grounds the relentless shredding; the album’s chaotic mood finds stability. And then come the hymns like a ghostly reflection of the first two segments, ending the album with a feeling of completeness and distinct direction. The Purging Trilogy provokes perspective and true emotion, but if someone asked me if I enjoyed it, I would have to say that it was like picking a scab: it took some cold shivers and necessary pain to get in to the warm, sensitive and bloody.

Michael Hessel-Mial
I am a tourist. I went to one of those steakhouses where you eat a 64-ounce steak and get a free shirt. I thought it would be easy. Instead, I ate about four ounces and passed out next to the baked potato. That’s how I feel about this album; it’s too damn long. But delicious.

Deniz Rudin
At its best The Purging Trilogy is stark and mythic, gigantic and cold. If you distilled all the high points of the record—the longing of the opening riff of “Sacreth 4”, the meditative grief of the first two perfect hymns, the ecstatic triumph of the melodic sections of “Ixoltion 1”—into one hour-long thing, it would be an absolutely incredible album, but for every piece of the record that I love, there is a corresponding misstep. Mick Barr is possessed of genius, but like most prolific artists he is undiscerning; he churns out two and a half hours of music and in it are both masterstrokes and mediocrities, often within the same song. In The Purging Trilogy Barr shows his potential to craft emotionally affecting music, but he hasn’t figured it out quite yet.

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Watch Mick Barr play guitar:

Beach House loses nothing and gains much on Teen Dream, their debut on Sub Pop. Still present are the lush organs that have defined the band, but they’re brighter this time around. Readily identifiable are Victoria Legrand’s thick vocals, but here they sound more confident, with traces of Stevie Nicks wandering in and out. Beach House are certainly sticking to what they have done in the past, but this album is far more consistent and accessible than either of their previous efforts.

The duo are masters of managing space. Occasionally recalling the auditory parsimony championed by upstarts The xx, Beach House are also not afraid to pile on the layers. “Silver Soul” begins with a riff Sleater-Kinney would have written if Lil Wayne gave them access to his cough syrup stash, and the band adds plodding drums and distorted synth underneath to provide some snug accompaniment. Then, in the first indisputable sign that this album is going to be something special, Legrand repeatedly sings, “It is happening again,” until the song’s conclusion, complemented by crisp “ah ahhs” in the background.

Beach House? Pop? Oh yeah.

Come to think of it, all these new “chillwave” kids on the block could take a lesson from Teen Dream. The whole record is a proclamation that subtle songs can also be triumphant. Whereas Beach House has spent most of their efforts trafficking in ambience up to this point, Teen Dream takes a half step forward, especially as Legrand’s often androgynous voice rises to the forefront toward the conclusion of several songs.

The standout track, if that can be said of a record that exhibits no apparent weaknesses, is “Walk In The Park.” In stark contrast to “Gila,” the best song off of Devotion, “Walk In The Park” shows no hesitation to engage the listener. It’s flooded with nostalgia, from the constant organ to the simple, cheap drums. But instead of letting the sentiment wash over you, Legrand steps into the most engaging melody on the album in the chorus, conceding, “In a matter of time/It would slip from my mind/In and out of my life/You would slip from my mind.” Whether it’s the hard “t” in “matter” or the fact that Legrand finally gives herself the space to sound anthemic, it’s startling to hear Beach House making music this direct.

The Aughts hurled more hyperbole at us than anyone could have asked for, and I hesitate to sully our new decade with more of the same. But what the hell: I think we’ve got a masterpiece on our hands.

Agoraphobic Nosebleed – Agorapocalypse

Who would’ve thought ANb would put out an album with an average song length of over two minutes? The world’s fastest grind band slows down a little, with mindblowing results. Absolutely fucking insane thrash trades off with insanely heavy riffs, with the best drum programming in human history. This record has the perfect grindcore mood: pissed off and wild and gross, offensive just for the sake of it, and ultimately lighthearted, playful, and carefree. But what matters most is that this band has finally become more about the music than the spectacle, though they’re still further over the top than just about anybody else.

If you had to decide whether or not this is an album you are interested in based on only one track:
“Question of Integrity”

Andrew Bird – Noble Beast

The most peaceful and pastoral record from the Bird, and also his best-produced. Every track is a lush and constantly-shifting mix of layered instrumentation; each verse and chorus of each song is tracked differently, and though the initial draw of the album is the vocal hooks, it is this diversity of instrumentation that draws you back again and again. An intelligent and skillful album—a treat for longtime Bird fans and first-time listeners alike.

IYHTDWONTIAAYAIIBOOOT:
“Tenuousness”

Animal Collective – Merriweather Post Pavilion

The first AC record to be even in the same ballpark of good as their fans think it is, though it’s not the best album of the decade, or even of the year. The Collective have pulled off a complicated balancing act, creating an album accessible enough to find a wide audience while staying bizarre and complex enough to satisfy their extant fanbase. The album combines organic psychedaelia with partystopping electronics, peppered with field recordings and deep, writhing sounds. This music is thick, wet, and full of life.

IYHTDWONTIAAYAIIBOOOT:
“In the Flowers”

Black Moth Super Rainbow – Eating Us

The feel-good album of forever, a huge and bright and primary-colored sound that overwhelms whatever you’re feeling: sublimity by force. The album is sticky and sweet, weapons-grade happiness. Way better than a SAD lamp.

IYHTDWONTIAAYAIIBOOOT:
“Born on a Day the Sun Didn’t Rise”

Dälek – Gutter Tactics

Standing on the blacksand beach that is a rap record: beats pound in the ocean like waves beneath which lies a churning underbelly of anxious sound, undulating and nebulous. You can see dimly through the water the shapes of words shimmering like fish. The wave of static breaks, the sky whitewashed with noise.

IYHTDWONTIAAYAIIBOOOT:
“Gutter Tactics”

Krallice – Dimensional Bleedthrough

No other black metal album is so virtuosic, so guitar-oriented, so consistent. Possessed of both clarity and rawness. Mick Barr’s guitar melodies are catchy without being like anybody else’s. Absolutely mesmerizing, so constant in its energy and speed that it becomes meditative. The record is balls-out no-punches-pulled epic, eschewing the usual gloom and overwrought melancholy of the genre to provide an hour and a quarter of downright ecstatic music, an entire album of huge closing tracks.

IYHTDWONTIAAYAIIBOOOT:
the last two minutes of “The Mountain”

The Mountain Goats – The Life of the World to Come

This record is the first unqualified success of TMG’s hi-fi sound, their first studio-recorded album that is completely unembarrassing in instrumentation and orchestration; the production of this album is spacious and engaging, with huge drums, warm electronics, reverberating piano and subtle violin textures. But as always with this band, the reason to care is the writing. As we’ve come to expect, each song on this record displays beautiful language and emotional subtlety and depth. The record is also a rarity in TMG’s extensive catalog: a well-crafted and coherent unit from the prolific but inconsistent John Darnielle, known for making good songs but not good albums.

IYHTDWONTIAAYAIIBOOOT:
“Matthew 25:21”

The Paper Chase – Someday This Could All Be Yours, Vol. 1: The Calamities

A deceptive album: totally catchy but genuinely threatening; this is pop music pumped full of infection and disease, accessible hooks with bitterly misanthropic lyrics. Every instrument a little damaged, a little bent. Small touches of violence and discordance throughout every song, a complex patchwork of organic and digital sound. A fluidly-connected collection of sternly epic death marches and barely-controlled cathartics, each one seeping into the next. Producer/frontman John Congleton has come up with brand-new guitar noises, wild and screaming tones twisted out of recognizable shape. This band has a perfect sound, a gold standard for production junkies.

IYHTDWONTIAAYAIIBOOOT:
“what should we do with your body (the lightning)”

Ulcerate – Everything is Fire

Witness the percolation of a new style; if this is death metal then all death prior can be considered proto-. This album is beyond new: it is an album from the future. An alien thing come to our planet fully-formed; a melodic system from some other world. Spider-riffs weave webs around each other creating incomprehensible and amorphous rhythms. Many of the record’s best moments are bleak landscapes, but even at its most aggressive the riffing is abstract.

IYHTDWONTIAAYAIIBOOOT:
“Drown Within”

Zu – Carboniferous

Heavy bass, wild barry sax, pumping electronics and frenetic drumming centered around complex snare rolls. The saxophone used alternatingly for melody, for bassline, for percussion and for insane textures. A unique sound: heavy, intensely polyrhythmic, violent and celebratory, indebted to things like Lightning Bolt and John Zorn without sounding like anything but itself. This is bizarre, surprising, confrontational and meticulously constructed music; an impeccable album for a special breed of listener: those in it for the sound and the rhythm, not for a tune to hum.

IYHTDWONTIAAYAIIBOOOT:
“Chthonian”

15 Albums that I liked a lot:

Afgrund – Vid Helvetets Grindar
Riff-heavy grindcore from Scandinavia.
Anni Rossi – Rockwell
Newsom-y chirping and viola.
Antigama – Warning
Avant-grind. Interesting drumkit.
Augury – Fragmentary Evidence
Prog/tech/death.
Behemoth – Evangelion
The best Nile album of 2009, by just a smidgen.
Bergraven – Till Makabert Väsen
Weird, abstract, quiet black metal.
John Zorn – Alhambra Love Songs
Continuing Zorn’s listenable streak.
Khanate – Clean Hands Go Foul
Their most subtle, least cheesy; very menacing.
Mochipet – Master P on Atari
Dance music that is also listenable.
Ocean Chief – Den Förste
Best traditional doom since pre-hiatus YOB.
S.K.E.T. – Depleted Uranium Weapons
Excellent powernoise, punishing but danceable.
Shining – VI/Klagopsalmer
A real rocker from the suicidal Swedes.
St. Vincent – Actor
Catchy enough for you, bizarre enough for me.
Sunn O))) – Monoliths & Dimensions
Without a doubt the best ever Sunn O))) record.
Why? – Eskimo Snow
The (more) bizarre, poppy(er) flip-side to Alopecia.

5 Albums that other people liked:

Roy Montgomery & Grouper – Split
by Eric Brew

I admit my love for Grouper makes the mention of this album borderline self-serving. I could go either way with the 18-minute track by Roy Montgomery on the split, but Liz Harris’ tracks (playing as Grouper) always captivate me—usually late at night, when I’m on the edge of drowsiness with a small degree of disgust from the day still in my gut. The tracks are (as is most of Harris’ music) brooding, crackling and deep. Her voice, though often indecipherable, is like a drug that, once swallowed, catches onto some part near the inside of your left lung and never leaves—a sort of damage you accept and forever carry.

Akron/Family – Set ‘Em Wild, Set ‘Em Free
by Pete Noteboom

This album will make you feel like you’re giving birth to magical multi-colored eggs filled with hope, truth, miracles, and everlasting friendship. Akron/Family sounds like a couple indie kids took mushrooms and wandered off into the woods to roast some marshmallows and talk about how seriously intense it is to grow up. On the band’s epic quest to Set ‘Em Wild, Set ‘Em Free, they wander through the land of dancetastic party plucking and have a gander at the American dream while their collective brain swells with appreciation of The Beauty Inherent In All Things in a breathtaking cacophony of electric light.

The Flaming Lips – Embryonic
by Kevin Tully

It’s hard to believe that the same guys whose last album featured a song called “The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song” and whose stage show is filled with giant balloons and confetti cannons recorded Embryonic. My first impression of the album was that it sounded like if robots with fuzzy guitars soundtracked a James Bond movie. Then I decided that it sounded more like if robots with fuzzy guitars and an evil wizard soundtracked a James Bond movie where the entire thing was just James Bond panicking for no reason. Then I remembered that it was, in fact, The Flaming Lips.

Nomo – Invisible Cities
by Zach McCormick

Those floating, ethereal, percussive tones that drift mystically throughout Nomo’s music are the product of an amplified Kalimba, an African thumb piano. The Ann Arbor, MI band runs such simple instruments through a slew of effects pedals to craft everything from dulcet marimba chords to searing, distorted guitar lines. Calling Nomo an Afro-Funk group seems a woefully inadequate way to describe the band’s incredibly diverse range of influences: thick, complex horn arrangements recall 70’s funk, while reverb-drenched fuzz guitar gives the album a psychedelic edge. Truly one of the most unique and compelling records of 2009.

Ke$ha – Animal
by Sam Johnston

When Ke$ha was done puking in Paris Hilton’s closet, she turned around and puked into my heart, and I’m not sure if I should thank her or not.

Standout tracks include “No One Loves Me And Neither Do I,” “New Fang,” “Elephants,” “Caligulove,” and “Gunman.”

The thumping drumbeat backed by droning guitar and bouncy synth of the album’s opener “Trichromatic” sets a mood for the entire record. Although the tracks vary, from the gorgeous, expansive landscape of “Interiors” to the fast, loud, horn section of the album’s title track, there is a feeling present in every song that forms Shutter Release into one distinct, cohesive wave of sound. The band’s instrumental post-rock sound is comparable to that of bands like Explosions in the Sky; in fact, one could say that the whole album sounds as if they added synth and a tinge of happiness to The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place. Lymbyc Systym uses the same sort of minimalist-to-epic climax approach that has become commonplace in the post-rock scene; but at the same time, they have found a way to twist that norm and make it their own. This is in part due to the band’s masterful use of electronics on Shutter Release. It is heavy in synthesizer, blips, boops, white noise, and drum machine, but these elements are used in the most tasteful of ways. They are simple, subtle layers and textures accentuating the brilliant lead guitars (both acoustic and electric) and drums that make up the majority of the record’s sound. The band seems to perfectly understand the less-is-more philosophy and uses it to maximum effect.

Shutter Release is not perfect. It has a couple of sore-thumb tracks (namely the quick, chirpy “T-Ball”), which are not bad, necessarily, but don’t seem to fit in with the rest of the album. However, that doesn’t change the fact that Shutter Release is one of the most surprising albums I’ve heard all year, not to mention one of the best.

Brass Beads contains a varied collection of tracks that all bleed originality and unique composition. The nine-song collection was originally released on 12” vinyl, and two songs are re-recordings from the band’s EP. The tune “Talebearer” drives and soars with PJ Harvey-esque lyrical lines and layers of orchestral reverberation, while driving snare taps resonate like the psychotic pound of typewriter keys (almost a terrifying recap of psyche in The Shining) and pleasantly haunt the unexpecting listener in “Scritch Scratch.” Of course, a few tracks, such as “Flat Land” and “Reflection” become a bit repetitive and sloth-like with uncertain, crooning vocal patterns that may leave the listener unsettled, unsatisfied and lost. However, drummer and expressive vocalist Crystal Brinkman keeps most jams afloat with steady, pulsing rhythmic patterns.

Brute Heart comprises three passionate female musicians on bass, drums, and viola. Their record comes with a digital download and is available at Treehouse Records, Electric Fetus, Extreme Noise, the Seward Cafe, and Hard Times Cafe. Anticipate bright innovations and more connotative tunes from these original locals- this threesome successfully blends haunting, subtle “brutality” with all that dwells in the swelling ventricles of a tender ‘heart’—what a fitting name.

MISC – Happiness is Easy
While some sound like the unfortunate offspring of pop ballads and vaguely dissonant post-rock, many of the choruses on MISC’s Happiness is Easy are simply bad. Harmonies on “Such a Fighter,” the album’s fourth track, are cringe-worthy and poorly introduced by the mixing. The record is somewhat dissonant; the first half of Badman Recording Co. owner Dylan Magierek’s release successfully attempts to misunderstand all the charm of groups like Mogwai by adding the numbingly earnest voice of Daniel Ahearn, while the second half is spent on stylistic experimentation intimating at folk, electro-pop, what-have-you, but never with enough charm or originality to stick. Perhaps the most consistent aspect of this album is that all the songs overstay their welcome. Its 40 minutes seem long as each song hammers every repetition in, but somehow, at the end of it, it’s hard to remember anything about it at all.

Meridene – You’re Not Pretty, You’re Worse
Dear Maridene,
1) The music on your album is pretty good. I especially like the horns on “Kill the Memory.” But your lyrics are forgettable. Forgettable lyrics are hard to get stuck in your head. This is a pop record. Catch my drift?
2) Where is the harmony? Again: pop record.
3) Your one sheet reads: “…a record full of the happiest sad songs you might ever come across.” I listened to your record. I still think the happiest sad song is the J. Frank Wilson and the Cavaliers rendition of “Last Kiss.”
4) I don’t get your album title.

Ada Jane – Again…Again
Ada Jane is one of those bands that comes in big with them horns at the chorus. The first track ends with “whoa-oah-oah’s.” Though some brief moments of instrumental play are intriguing in their abrasiveness, the band falls easily into the patterns of folk/blues standard stylings which makes for predictable ends. The vocalist’s alt-countryish singing drawl often reaches moments of overkill. The lyrics can get awfully sentimental, with tons of mushy romantic lines like, “With all this busy-ness/Just stop by every once and a while for a kiss.” However, lyrical gems such as “Every time I cop a stance someone’s waiting behind me pulling down my pants” can be gleaned from the record.

Future Lisa – Clone
We first encountered Future Lisa in the present, which is now the past. Over time, our initial innumerable copies of Clone dwindled to one. Despite this passage of time, we still seem to be eons behind Future Lisa. At present, the lyrics are too simple for meaningful connection: “The discussion is over when I end it.” The vocal recordings are far too articulate – we can hear every uncomfortable vocal nuance. We investigated. Clone was recorded, mixed and mastered by Tom Herbers of Third Ear Recording – the same studio that played a part in Andrew Bird’s Armchair Apocrypha and various Fog and Low albums. Yet Third Ear mentions nothing of Future Lisa on their website’s past clients list.
Where’s the future clients list?

Brendan Themes – Fast
The music of local artist Brendan Themes leaves much to be desired in his new six minute EP, Fast. Themes plays one-man acoustic pop punk. The songs aren’t completely inept as it is clear he has talent in his guitar playing. Unfortunately, Themes has trouble writing anything original. His production value is low, as all his songs end very abruptly and none are over two minutes. Also, Themes’ lyrics in Fast are far too simplistic. It will be hard to win an audience with the hook “What exactly are you, hiding in the open?” I recommend skipping this artist, at least until he improves his talent.

UltraChorus – Words Kept Talking/Planetman 7”
UltraChous’s Words Kept Talking/Planetman is auto-tuned dance music with nicely patterned samples. Side A, “Words Kept Talking” contains a groovy dulcimer (!) sample that contrasts the airy synths that fade in and out of the mix. “WKT” is about words talking on their own volition. In fact, in a parallel universe there is a club in southern Costa Rica where the dance floor is packed with raving raised hands screaming, “you wasn’t talking and the words came oOOut.” That’s my dream. “Planetman” is a bassier track with a less catchy hook: “it’s the end of the night and I’m so excited” or other banal stuff that rhymes with that.

Alicia Leafgreen – The White Lesbian Rapper EP
Maybe it’s too easy to compare every white MC to Eminem, but Alicia Leafgreen not only sounds like a female version of the real Slim Shady, she openly name-drops him. Unfortunately, she doesn’t quite have the fierceness to sell the chip on her shoulder. The Twin Cities rapper’s simple, driving beats and smart-alecky rhymes are fairly engaging, but her boasting about her confrontational persona would be more convincing if her delivery weren’t so laidback. There’s something appealing in these tracks, but Leafgreen’s hip-hop neither gets in your face nor makes you want to party, and it ends up feeling a little empty.