M. Ward’s sixth album, Hold Time, encompasses a variety of styles, yet remains extremely thematic. The first few tracks, upbeat numbers replete with claps and folk-pop melodies, represent a change from his usual, brooding character. Ward even slips into familiar, romantic motifs, singing, “Honey, I ain’t never had nobody like you.”

“Hold Time,” a somber ballad built upon orchestral flourishes and mellow synths, slows down the album’s pace. Next, Buddy Holly’s classic “Rave On” is transformed into a slower, more hypnotic version, but does not stray far from the song’s original roots. Speeding up again, Hold Time relapses into upbeat pop. M. Ward’s voice is especially sugar sweet when it is spot-lit with mild guitar chords. That same mellowed-out guitar sound is instrumental in one of this album’s big improvements over his last effort: good choruses.

Hold Time flows by from track to track, through harmonic transitions that tie each piece together. Warbling chords are plucked vigilantly in “Stars of Leo” only to be subtly electrified on “Fisher of Men.” The melodies are underscored by frolicking piano lines. The sound leans toward a melodic country tone near the end, only to ricochet with a distant echo, singing “Well, put your head on my shoulder, baby, tell me where it hurts.”

Hold Time often relies upon warm earth tones and gives us a panoramic view of M. Ward’s internal world. Although it’s a warmer, cheerier release, lonely minor keys slip in frequently, betraying the nature of Ward’s solitary artistry. His whispering voice fills in empty spaces and glues together nostalgic instrumentals. Whether a bedtime playlist, optimistic release, or collection of hopes, it serves well.

After 14 years, a string of three melodramatic concept albums and the cultivation of an increasingly unhinged live show, Cursive have become as contentious as they are pretentious, attracting fans, detractors and bemused passersby in equal measure. And now, three years after the mostly disappointing Happy Hollow, we have Cursive’s new album, Mama I’m Swollen, an effort that will most likely please fans while giving detractors one more reason to dismiss the band as aging emo hacks. In short: it’s not perfect but it’s really good.

Right off the bat, there’s a lot to like about Mama, I’m Swollen. It’s easily the most tight, focused and stripped down Cursive record since The Storms of Early Summer. The wonky electronics and stylistic detours of old-new Cursive are replaced by impressive performances and dynamic songwriting. In fact, dynamic is the best way to describe the record; the dominant musical idea here being the constant push and pull between gentle guitar-pop and atonal, “we used to be into hardcore” wailing.

And, yes, I really do mean guitar-pop. Mama is essentially Cursive making a depressing pop record—one that sounds not unlike frontman Tim Kasher’s other project, the Good Life. While this newfound interest in pop songwriting produces some great singles material, (“Donkeys,” “From the Hips”) it’s also responsible for a few unfortunate forays into melodramatic balladry that really should have been left on the cutting-room floor (“We’re Going to Hell”). The rest of the album veers between those two poles, blending poppy melodrama with discordant punk, garage and the bizarre prog-cabaret thing that Cursive have been into since that one time they decided to get a cello player.

Mama is a clear improvement over Happy Hollow, but it’s also a very strange Cursive record. While many fans may dismiss it as too poppy or quiet, the album has more than it’s fair share of charms. It’s a work that rewards patience and perseverance with those awesome moments when everything pulls together perfectly. It’s the kind of album that will grow on you, which is an unexpected but not unwelcome change for a band that has made a career out of disaster.

I was enraptured by the sound of local musician Brett Bullion at first listen late last fall. His solo band, Tarlton, features intelligible drums accompanied by straightforward synthesized melodies. I have been anxiously awaiting Tarlton’s second and latest EP, Papa Theses. The album is named and presumably founded on advice given to Bullion by a friend nicknamed “Papa”: Sit down, set up quickly, have your tea, and play.

The album features three tracks, averaging over eight minutes each. The first track, “Overport,” opens on a thick-sounding synthesizer that seemed promising and indicative of the good musicianship to follow. The piece drones on until after three minutes, when all sounds cease except for what I would imagine a snare drum panting from exhaustion would sound like.

“Overport” flows nearly seamlessly into “Papa Thesis” with background textures that relax. Drawn-out and synthesized orchestral strings are fuzzed and characterize the duration of the song. Hesitant notes eventually chime a melody that tests itself among the other sounds apparent in the song’s core. The Papa Theses EP gives an ominous feeling of uncertainty to its tracks, none of which contain vocals. The final track, “Bol,” seems more of a separation from the album’s other tracks, emphasizing cymbal use and sounds redolent of deep space.

Overall, the sound feels experimentally cathartic—begging the question of what can be left behind?—amounting to a somewhat lackluster release. The focus of Tarlton’s music has been and continues to be about drums and rhythm; however, the beats now feel commonplace and overworked, lacking the energy to separate them from being sounds to being something that can be appreciated for artistic quality and inventiveness. Nonetheless, Papa Theses will keep your feet tapping and head bobbing in that surface level enjoyment that seems to be everpresent these days.

You can see Tarlton live and watch Bullion sculpt his sound piece by piece, on March 13 at the Papa Theses release show at 7th Street Entry. Papa Theses will be available in stores everywhere or via www.afternoonrecords.com on March 10.

I can never be sure if the reason why I think Ipecac Neat is far and away the best P.O.S. album is because it’s actually better than everything he has put out since, or if it’s because it was one of the first hip-hop albums I ever liked. So throughout this review, let’s keep in mind that I got into rap through Rhymesayers and enjoy it now primarily through anticon and that when P.O.S., also known as Stefon Alexander, makes references to punk rock, I get them. But when he makes references to rappers, I don’t.

First, things that are good about Never Better: The frequently employed heavy drums, thick bass, fast momentum-pushing drumrolls, and Stef can still rap pretty dang well.

Still, I feel Doomtree-fatigued, like I’ve heard a dozen records with all these people rapping on them and rapping about the same things. Where is the new? Where is that which will make me feel like I’m listening to something that I haven’t heard before?

The record is solid. P.O.S. can rap like a motherfucker, and he doesn’t give a fuck what you think of him, and if he can be a little sentimental at times and a little over-pop-referential at others, at least he disses Obamarama in one song and sings a Fugazi lyric in another. So maybe the reason why I don’t feel it like I felt Ipecac is a problem with me and not with the album. Maybe real criticism is impossible and we’re all just hanging out rationalizing our subjective emotional responses. Whatever. I hung out with Stef a couple weeks ago. I beat him at Super Smash Brothers. He was nice and funny, and he told me that he really, really likes making rap records.

Over the past decade, the Black Keys have had no trouble gaining notoriety for their blues driven power rock, and it was only a matter of time till guitarist/singer Dan Auerbachvreleased a solo disc. After reaching new heights with their critically and commercially successful 2008 album, Attack and Release (produced by Danger Mouse), Auerbach retreated to his home of Akron, Ohio, to begin work on his recently released solo album, Keep it Hid.

Although Auerbach doesn’t stray too far from his standard dirty delta blues approach, Keep It Hid poses as a completely different record in some respects. With the absence of PatnCarney, the album lacks the raw energy that made the Black Keys so damn entertaining in the first place, but Auerbach manages to compensate with his uncanny ability to reach all ends of the rock ‘n’ roll spectrum. Kicking it off with a whimper, “Trouble Weighs a Ton,” one of the few acoustic trackson the album, gives us a chance to hear some soothing vocals devoid of all distortion. “Real Desire,” a mid-tempo love song, blends majestic organs with some twangy guitar licks, producing what is probably the most beautiful thing Auerbach
has written since “The Lengths,” from the 2004 release Rubber Factory. Although let it be duly noted that this claim is immediately contested by the following track: “When the Night Comes.”

Keep It Hid manages to keep you attentive through its various styles. The urgency of “Streetwalkin,” as well as the channeling of Jerry Garcia in “Last Mistake,” “When I left the Room” and “The Provvl,” seem like they wouldn’t be too out place on a Black Keys record either. If you like The Black Keys you’ll probably enjoy Keep It Hid and if you don’t, hell, try giving it a spin, it’s probably got something almost anyone can enjoy.

The restlessness of thinking about John Cusack may keep Ione Skye shifting in bed, but Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” is like the brush that wipes away doubt. The song reveals that true love does exists (in some form) and Mr. Gabriel can show how you are “complete.” How could anyone forget the large, late 80s style boom box John Cusack held above his head and how this specific scene is recreated by “romantic” people trying to mend their unstable, teenage angst-driven relationships?

Gabriel has had a wide and prosperous career, mainly noted for his stint with progressive rock super group Genesis. Like his band mate Phil Colins, Gabriel has done some movie soundtracks. And ,unlike Colins, Gabriel does not collaborate with ’N Sync and does not yell about being a Caucasian man raised by apes in the jungle. Instead, he made landscapes of sound for Rabbit Proof Fence and contributed some tunes to the more recent Pixar movie Wall-E. He has worked with a myriad of different artists from the pope-hating, Irish baldy Sinead O’Connor, the electronically driven Laurie Anderson, to the unpredictable Peter Hammill.

After leaving Genesis, Gabriel began working on his three self-titled albums, his finest being his third (or otherwise known as Melt, as seen on his cover art.) This particular album would have Gabriel honing his influential and distinct sound.

Melt consists of 10 detailed, multi-layered tracks that strike at everyone’s caveman core. The apparent lack of certain traditional rock instruments, like cymbals, gives the album a frightening, empty feeling. Synthesizers and drum machines add chilling electricity, in opposition to the more tribal aspects.

Even though there is a particular coldness to Gabriel’s singing voice and lyrics, there is also a sexy, more passionate side. One of the faster paced and bass heavy tunes, “I Don’t Remember,” has a definite foot tap-ability after the slower, saxophone driven instrumental of “Start.” Gabriel is definitely playing with different moods and styles, like a mad scientist putting together different human parts to form a monster.

Gabriel’s infatuation with tribal vocals and music combined with his experience in progressive rock music and his willingness to experiment with electronic technology come together almost perfectly on his third solo album. With the overwhelming amount of instrumentation and production, it can easily flood the ears. I admit I had to give the album a few tries before it struck, but when it strikes, you begin to look past silly movie romance and begin to get serious.

Tune into Radio K’s Last Year’s Model on Monday February 23 and March 2 at 8 p.m. to hear the consistent babble of hosts Phil and Mark and hear why Peter Gabriel III makes Phil Collins legit.  Well, maybe.

Zu is a pretty weird Italian trio, made up of drums, electric bass, and barry sax. The group has been around for about a decade, put out more than a dozen records, and collaborated with Dälek, the Melvins, Nobukazu Takemura, and a whole bunch of others. This year, like a lot of other years, they put out a new album.
And it is good.

This time around, Zu are pretty straightforwardly heavy, switching between a steady-rhythmed, thick-bassed pounding reminiscent of the Austerity Program and a brain-bending mathematical lurch. Zorny sax freakouts don’t dominate many of the songs; they instead add texture to head-noddable riffs, which is where I think they belong.

“Ostia” brings the album in well with bombastic electronics and rhythm that gets into your blood like snake venom and won’t fucking leave. “Chthonian” follows up with sax noodling over heavy bass lines and pounding drums, and by the time it’s over the album is pretty much locked down; the very worst a record with an opening that awesome could be is mediocre.

And though Zu can’t keep up the first two tracks’ intensity or quality over the next forty minutes, they certainly don’t make anything bad either, except for that one track that Mike Patton shits all over.

While this record probably won’t be changing lives, it’s certainly a solid release, worth listening to if you like certain things in your music, like distorted bass, hard-to-comprehend rhythms, and wild saxophone improvisations; which are all things that I’m into. If you are too, drop me a line. Let’s hang out and talk about music in a way that makes it clear to everyone around us that we think we’re both cooler and smarter than they are. Also, maybe you should give this album a listen.

Where is Justin Vernon going now? Out of the cold woods and into the sun, it would seem. The sky is lined with sparse clouds that casually cross the sun in Bon Iver’s sophomore release Blood Bank EP. 

The four-track EP (officially released via digital, CD and vinyl mediums on January 20, 2009) is presented as a full-band effort with the assistance of Sean Carey (percussion/vocals/keys) and Mike Noyce (guitar/vocals). The EP is a somewhat unexpected follow-up to Justin Vernon’s highly successful Jagjaguwar Records release of For Emma, Forever Ago.

Those expecting the same wintry, naturalistic compositions of For Emma may be surprised, though not necessarily disappointed, by Blood Bank. The songs maintain a nature-focused aesthetic while maintaining distance from the cold and sorrow of For Emma via brushing sonority in vocal harmonies, simple background textures and excellent layering. The composition is reminiscent of looking to the horizon; an auburn tree that refuses to give into winter overlaps a leafless tree, which in turn overlaps full-bodied pines and a distant chimney, steadily pouring heat from its stack. The title track “Blood Bank” opens the EP with subtle rhythm guitars, finishing with an apprehensive, crunchy lead that is fitting to the lyricism: “that secret that we know / but we don’t know how to tell”.  

The second track features a warm acoustic slide guitar that takes us straight into the sun and further from Vernon’s cabin in the frigid woods of Wisconsin. The song twists and builds on a simple crescendoing piano in the third track “Babys” that mimics the movement of flickering flame on wood – quick movements that slowly evolve position over time. Though all fitting, “Babys” at times feels cliché with its childlike instrumentation and whining vocals.  

The final track “Woods” utilizes the overused auto-tune effect. This addition seems excessive for the album. For a talented vocalist, Vernon does not need to allocate the assistance of the auto-tuner, and may have been better served without it. Whether the extensive use of the device was meant to supplement the album or be used as a form of satire due to its overuse in today’s music industry, the effect does not serve any great purpose to the EP. Instead, the device brings an Imogen Heap-esque (think “Hide and Seek”) element to the album. That said, the harmonies are beautiful and it’s a well-composed song. The simplicity is remarkable considering the only four lyrics of the song: “I’m up in the woods / I’m down on my mind / I’m building a still / To slow down the time”.  

Blood Bank feels like a brief reflection on For Emma and the process of looking forward; a representation of the possibilities the band has for the future. The well-timed release should keep listeners intrigued while pondering what is yet to come for the young artist.

It has been just over four years now since I wrote my last album review. Initially I was afraid that I would be rusty or, even worse, that my writing would have grown ‘unhip’. To combat these fears, I read a multitude of reviews of this album in preparation. I have to admit, what I found was quite surprising.

I use as example this quote from Pitchfork Media, written by a Mr. Mark Richardson. Richardson describes certain songs on the album as having, “the ego-pulverizing bliss of shoegaze,” or perhaps even better is his simple description of the song Brother Sport as “Afro-Brazilian-flavored.” What this research revealed to me was that, 1) there is no way I can compete with these online reviews in terms of coolness; and 2) that I can freely create words and sentence structures to fill my purposes in album reviews. So, in light of this revelation, I will give the following sentence as a short, and concise, review of the album.

“Beyond its originality and promorgasmic songs, Animal Collective has really reached the pinnacle of their work, recreating their past successes, and once again adding something pantsholller to their repertoire in the form of their incandescent beats and holfactic electronic noise; music good.”

Perhaps now with my coolness in full swing and my English in sorry disarray, I can properly review the album.  To me, this album represents one of the best musical creations of the last year, if not multiple years. I have yet to hear an album by Animal Collective that sounds anything like any of their many other albums and this one is no different. With Meriwether Post Pavilion the band has found the perfect balance between their noise filled electronic beginnings and their more recent pop infused albums.  From songs like Summertime Clothes, with its heavily layered instruments and mesmerizing background vocals, to Daily Routine with its electric organ and tribal rhythm, the album ranges over the entire musical spectrum. Furthermore, the songs move in an almost perfect progression, melding from one to the next. The entire album plays like a single continuous work without anything slowing it down or getting in the way.

The main idea or symbol of the album seems to be the simple act of living. Almost every song deals with human interaction in one form or another, giving the album a highly personal and human feel that has not previously existed in their older, and weirder, works. With lines like “will it be just like I’m dreaming,” and “Am I really all the things that are outside of me,” the album speaks about an everyday investigation into personal life. None of the songs focus on a singular aspect, and the wide variety of ideas mirrors the wide range that the music explores.

The hype surrounding this album is already colossal and will only continue to grow as the word gets out.  If you have never heard the band before, this album is a perfect introduction, and will interest anyone with a musical taste that might be considered outside of the ordinary. I strongly encourage anyone interested to get their hands on it.

Over the past decade and a half, Andrew Bird’s brilliance has led him to explore a multitude of styles, his compositions finding unsteady roots in folk, rock, indie, and jazz. His newly released Noble Beast is no different, boasting remarkable vocals that weave between ever-present violin shrills, ear-tickling whistles, and abstract imagery. Bird’s mastery of a solemn, introspective style of painterly music involves a unique method of recording and layering different instrumental parts on top of each other, sometimes before live audiences. Although his eighth album does not stray far from Armchair Apocrypha and The Mysterious Production of Eggs stylistically, Bird nonetheless finds new ground to explore with his ornamental and unmistakably unique pieces. 

”Oh No” opens the album with a convivial, lighthearted tone only to devour it with a faster tempo; dueling violins trill and stretch, clinging to each note affectionately. Claps and whistles make their appearance in every song and Bird plucks at the violin to steady the beat. The dynamic, Radiohead-esque “Not a Robot, But a Ghost” scuttles through chanted verses atop deep piano chords. 

The structure of the album can be somewhat problematic, though. The unconventional tendency to vary the intros to songs with the rest of the piece, although melodically appealing, serves to break up overlapping tunes rather than segue or link them. He also concludes songs this way, burying a mini-song within actual tracks. “Ouo” and “Unfolding Fans” are their own instrumentally focused tracks, but are mostly a distraction.  

The true marvel of Noble Beast does not shine until track 10, just in time for a foot-tapping climax. “Anonanimal” opens with piercing violin overtones that deliver an unstable melody while Bird sings, “I see a sea anemone, the enemy, see a sea anemone, and that’ll be the end of me.” The first verse’s gentle aura fades away into near silence when a sudden beat launches the track into a harmonic, waltzy duet between two violin parts. They die out as suddenly as they come to life, while rambling guitar work turns entropic beneath soothing vocals. Following this, the album mellows out, with delicate tunes giving way to lyrics that prove to be as much of a draw as the lush instrumentals.
Ultimately, amidst the electric jingles, intertwining violins, resonating whistles, and unusual retro lyrics, Noble Beast gets lost in itself. Despite having unique parts, the same elements are used over and over, making it hard to differentiate between melodies. However, each song by itself is creatively designed and elegantly carried out. Nowadays you don’t need to be a skilled musician to make good music, but with Noble Beast, it is clear that musicianship is essential.