All Delighted People

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.

With the afro-funk revival in full swing and Daptone Records holding court over all things east-coast Soul, it’s refreshing to see another contender throw their hat into the blue-eyed Soul revival ring (after all, Mayer Hawthorne gets awfully lonely). Led by Los Angeles songwriter Micheal Fitzpatrick, the Tantrums are a crack team of musicians that manage to buck the common criticism of neo-soul (namely, that it’s neo-soul and apparently incapable of originality) with an old-meets-new sound and a knack for imbuing songs with a genuine sense of joy. “Dear Mr. President” is an incisive message-record that puts one in mind of the Temptations early stabs at social commentary, with a pounding beat and Rock ‘n’ Roll Part 2 chants. The title track is a thoroughly charming little bit of songcraft that gets a major boost from the Tantrums’ excellent backing singer Noelle Scaggs who’s done work with fellow cracker-soul artist Quantic. “MoneyGrabber” might just give Cee-Lo a challenge for best gold-digger kiss-off of the year, pairing a sparse verse with a Daryl Hall feel and a monster hook with some real anger underneath. Other standouts include the decidedly, delightfully old-school “Rich Girls” where the protagonist laments his treatment by women on both sides of the tracks and “Winds of Change.” The latter’s crunching drum track and unexpected profanity belies this record’s post-hip-hop production. While Picking Up the Pieces may be short on surprises, it’s still a very well crafted album by a Songwriter that deserves his capital letter.

The Roma di Luna work ethic is certainly not one to be questioned. The recording process for their most recent effort was reportedly a tumultuous one, with four newborns between the group members. Far from mellowing out into parenthood however, Then the Morning Came showcases a fiery soulful side never before seen from the beloved local act. With an ever-expanding full band lineup complimenting the original duo, Roma di Luna sounds more ready for the bigtime than for white picket fence country. There’s a real warm, organic blues sound to this record, with a drooping B.B. King style guitar transforming “Miss You Too” into Chicago blues stomper and Channy relishing in the newfound territory to show off a spine tingling growl. The pristine folk beauty we expect from the group is still there on tracks like the “Starling” and “Below our Feet,” but it’s hard to ignore such an unexpected (and thoroughly welcomed) development like “When I Die.” The group brings in the horns and spot on backing vocals for a soulful blues that wouldn’t sound out of place on the next Sharon Jones record. About halfway through, a banging drum sample comes in so strong that you almost expect Alexi to deliver one of his Kill the Vultures verses. It’s a pleasant surprise on a record that could be described in similar terms; Then the Morning Came was destined for local stardom, but Roma di Luna have really gone the extra mile to ensure it’s lasting appeal.

During the last thirty seconds of the “Dream City,” the second track on the Philadelphia-by-way-of-Minneapolis band’s debut album, a beautiful soft tenor sax emerges to play a quiet, lonesome little figure as the song fades away with such a heartfelt lack of irony that we know immediately how much disdain the hipster set will have for this band. Free Energy is unapologetically dinosaur-ific, wearing their love for seventies hard rock like a banner for all to see. What sets them apart from a sea of unoriginal bands doing the same is frontman and songwriter Paul Spangers’ wonderful gift for wrapping stadium sized hooks in the vaguest of political trappings, supported by rock solid playing and a virtuosic lead guitar. Credit must be given to James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem/DFA fame for his production, lending the band a tight, danceable sound that still cracks at full volume like rock of this stripe was meant to do. The band’s title track sets off the album with an incisive, confident statement of identity with soaring guitars and a boot-stomping chorus. “Bang Pop” is the perfect dumb pop song: you know exactly where it’s going and you’re loving the ride. “Bad Stuff” on the other hand, ranges into darker territory, building an epic climax and a sweeping bridge on top of driving bass. The band makes the occasional rookie mistake but an unnecessary string arrangement here or there never killed an album that rocks this hard. Expect to hear Stuck on Nothing being blasted out of car windows wherever good times are being had this summer.

Charles Mingus
“The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady”

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.

For such an unlikely team-up, the duo of indie-folk heavyweight M. Ward and actress Zooey Deschanel has had remarkable staying power. Far from a novelty group, She and Him specializes in lush folk- and country-tinged pop songs that recall Phil Spector’s girl groups and Nashville chanteuses. On Volume Two the duo sprinkles in elements of Motown for a slightly different flavor, but She and Him hardly needs to reinvent the wheel for their records to be enjoyable. Major credit should go to Ward for his sterling production and impeccable playing throughout this record: otherwise unmemorable tunes are redeemed via drooping steel guitar or softly chirping strings and the truly winning songs crackle with analog warmth. “Into the Sun” features an upbeat soulful piano and backing vocals courtesy of Tilly and the Wall, while “Lingering Still” evokes the best parts of the 70’s Tex-Mex sound.

“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.

If Indie Rock’s folk wing has any sort cardinal sin it would be the often saccharine level of twee-ness that seems to saturate the works of artists that are not wary of its toxicity after prolonged exposure. Anders Mattson, whose alias was originally designed to aid with a common mis-pronouncement of his name, abandoned his strict classical training on the viola during his teenage years in favor of the guitar and has found his way back to his native instrument in a similar fashion to Andrew Bird or Sufjan Stevens. Mattson’s classical training shines through in the beautiful, delicate string arrangements on Nodes of Overtones, but unfortunately that’s where the similarities between him and his colleagues stops.

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 Stooges – The Stooges

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.

The sound is the most immediately striking thing about Cloudkicker’s new EP: they’ve found the perfect production style for this sort of music. The record’s sound is crisp, full, huge, and dynamic. But a great sound is nothing without good riffs, and Cloudkicker’s production is suited equally well to the band’s ethereally epic style and their stern mathematical riffing. It would be hard to find a bad riff on any of these three songs: the licks follow smoothly one after the other with every section pulling its own weight.

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.

Indie Rock’s hype-to-backlash machine has such an impressively quick turnaround that it’s a wonder Palm Beach, Florida’s native sons Surfer Blood even had a chance to release their debut record. The band quickly gained critical acclaim following an impressive showing at this year’s CMJ festival with a raw, muscular and distinctly noir-ish take on ‘90s indie power pop. Comparisons to Weezer trail the band, but Astro Coast contains so much more than a retread of the Blue Album’s tropes. John Paul Pitts, the band’s singer-guitarist-mastermind has crafted an enduring classic with this record, one of those ten-song shitkickers that’s made to roll on repeat in car stereos at high volume. The guitars land with a propulsive thump on the album’s opener “Floating Vibes” and then proceed to weave delicate little melodies around Pitt’s reverb-soaked vocals. From the towering, fist-pumping crunch of “Swim” to the sparse, delicate dub of “Harmonix,” Surfer Blood is not afraid to let the guitars do the talking. Every song on Astro Coast contains a memorable riff, the kind that will have you have you whistling at inopportune moments throughout your day. “Take it Easy” layers agile percussive guitars over skittering Afro-pop rhythms to create a dance floor anthem with an undercurrent of darkness that seems to pervade even Astro Coast’s most bombastic pop hits. Dirgelike “Slow Jabroni” serves as the apex of this depression, the soundtrack to a 3am realization that everything has gone slowly, horribly awry. Astro Coast stands as one of the more promising debuts in recent memory.