What does it mean for young people to make old-time music? This question is unavoidable in a discussion of an album like this one, but I don’t have a clear answer. Is it dishonest for educated young people to sing songs about working all day and not being able to read? Is it objectionable to be nostalgic for an idealized period of time in which you never lived, or is that form of escapism harmless? Is this music aesthetically meaningful or is it just kitsch? All of these issues come to the foreground during “Hit ‘Em Up Style,” an old-fashioned cover of a one-hit trash song from 2001. The Drops have arranged the song for fiddle, banjo and beatbox, creating what could either be seen as a fusion of old and new styles or a lack of imagination in reenvisioning the song, and though Rhiannon Giddens sings with power and passion, the source material is shitty and stupid. It’s an awesome novelty, but novelty is all it is.

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.

What This Is:

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:

We probably should’ve seen this coming: Beach House’s musical development has floated along much like one of their songs. Beginning beautifully but a bit obscured by the haze, the band’s intentions cleared up on their second album, Devotion, paralleling the intoxicating, mysterious melodies that gradually seep into their songs. With Teen Dream, the band’s third and latest album, we see this song blossom into a chorus more gorgeous and entrancing than could have been imagined at its humble beginning.

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.

10 Albums that I loved:

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.

The newly-formed supergroup Them Crooked Vultures carries a unique burden of high expectations. The band is composed of Josh Homme (Queens of the Stone Age), Dave Grohl (Foo Fighters, Nirvana), and John Paul Jones (Led Zeppelin; his first earnest foray into music since the band’s breakup nearly 30 years ago). Each member has his own pedigree and interests, but they seem to be united by a nonchalance and aversion to pretense that bleeds into the music they have produced. Their eponymous debut sounds less like an album and more like a series of catchy, impromptu jams cobbled together in five minutes and existing as an excuse for three high-profile musicians to get together on weekends. If that sounds like a knock against the group, it certainly is not. Them Crooked Vultures is chock-full of easily digestible, simple hard rock that closely resembles recent outings by Queens Of The Stone Age at moments. The band can trace its origins to a “blind date” at a rented out Medieval Times restaurant, orchestrated by Grohl for his fortieth birthday party in January 2009. Homme and Grohl are both Led Zeppelin disciples, and the awkwardness of being set up with a childhood music idol was quickly dispelled with dry humor about jousting pageantry. This album sees Homme as principal songwriter, guitarist, and vocalist; Grohl is back on drums, apparently grateful for a break; and Jones plays keyboards and bass guitar. The album itself is fairly strong from start to finish, and although some of the band’s so-termed “battleships” – songs exceeding 6 minutes – run a little long, Homme’s brand of percussion-heavy robot rock is the aural equivalent of a politician who would be “good to have a beer with.” This album will kick you in the face unrelentingly for over an hour, and many fans wouldn’t have it any other way.

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

“You know why they’re good? Because they’re brothers – they understand each other, man…” Thus began a conversation I once had with a friend about brother-bands. And, although he was referring to the Bee Gees (seriously), upon listening to instrumental post-rock band Lymbyc Systym’s new album Shutter Release, I finally know what that guy was blathering about. Lymbyc Systym consists of Jared and Mike Bell, two brothers from Arizona, but from the way Shutter Release sounds, you’d swear the band couldn’t possibly be just a duo. I haven’t heard such a grandiose sounding record all year, yet I also haven’t heard such an elegant one.

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.

Teleportation via the turbulent twist in sound waves may be possible. As one jams to Brass Beads, the debut record conceived by innovative MSP locals Brute Heart, a journey unfolds. One moment the traveler is suspended in an ethereal space of ambient female vocals and lush reverberation – wading in dense plasma and soothing waters. Then, in a flash of spectral flames, they’re pummeled with passionate, sporadic viola patterns and pulsing rhythm-dancing disjointed steps in an ancient world or howling and thrashing around some blazing forest fire. Throughout the album, the vocals often resemble tender wolf howls as each band member sings in winding notation to form a fluid cry or sigh of longing.

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.

The new release by Atlas Sound, nee Bradford Cox, has one song that’s going to garner a lot of attention. “Walkabout,” a collaboration with Noah Lennox of Animal Collective fame, is a big-beat summer anthem that goes past feel-good and into brain candy. The real story here, though, is neither catchy singles nor star power; it’s the way Cox’s songwriting and arranging abilities have improved since his last record. The songs all sport beautiful, full-sounding arrangements that skillfully incorporate acoustic instruments, a far cry from the ultra-compressed, digital soundscapes of his debut. The music is still firmly entrenched in the ambient-pop genre so reliably promoted by Kranky records, but now it’s grown into something completely different; a mixture of swirling ambience, quality pop songs, and a willingness to throw acoustic and electric instruments in with scratchy samples and keyboards. Cox’s vocals are also a high point. Now higher in the mix and far more intelligible than on previous efforts, the vocal performances shine, as do the lyrics, which are wistful and perfectly paired with the music. Unlike many of his peers, including his own work two years ago, Cox has nothing to hide here and presents the performances un-obscured by excessive reverb or bit-smashing. The fact that the album still manages to create such a disorienting shoegaze-swirl is even more impressive given the clarity of the recordings. With the future of Deerhunter, Cox’s day job, ever more uncertain, the continued improvement of Atlas Sound with each record is a great comfort.

Built to Spill has always been political, but never like this. There Is No Enemy’s opener, “Aisle 13,” uses the phrase “Cleanup in aisle 13” as a loose conceit for America. It’s a song about passing the buck which is sort of what Mr. Martsch does in writing a song about it. Most of There Is No Enemy is entrenched in this brand of whiny finger pointing that I’ve never heard from this band. “Hindsight” is a song about universal healthcare with front man and perpetual fifteen-year-old Martsch at the megaphone for the coda “What about Canada?” It’s an album that means well, but even the title forces a sense of guilt on the audience for their part in creating the current state of American life. I liked it better when the “you” in Built to Spill songs were about the girls Doug knew in high school, or a really selfish guy, but then he got on the Change train and loaded up the alienation gun. It’s kind of funny because every one of these songs sound like other Built to Spill songs, which is probably due to the latest trend in dinosaur indie bands: the “everyone says this is our best album so we’re going to play it all the way through” tour. There Is No Enemy is basically Perfect From Now On for politicians.

The Van Gobots – Guantanamo Beach Party
From a band name like the Van Gobots, I had expected to be listening to a kitschy oddball synth-driven band. At least I had hoped there would be quirk. But alas, the album was synthless, quirkless, and rife with pentatonic scale dual-guitar boogery, including a beefy guitar solo on the first track. The singer comes out washy and indistinct, is lacking dynamically, and spews out lyrics in a barky and sometimes awkward sequence. The production is fairly clean and straightforward, which emphasizes a fairly tight drummer and well orchestrated, albeit wanky, angular guitar interactions. I probably wouldn’t walk out if they were opening for a better band and only played for 20 minutes.

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.