Plenty of new music to be had this week from Laetitia Sadier and Storefront Church, Six Organs of Admittance, Able Noise, Yui Onodera, SML, Clinic Stars, Austyn Wohlers, Build Buildings, Zelienople, and Lea Thomas, plus some older tunes by Farah, Guy Blakeslee, Jessica Bailiff, and Richard H. Kirk.
Lake in Girdwood, Alaska by Johnny.
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This is Alec Koone's full-length debut and it is a feverishly anticipated one in many circles, as his 2010 EP (See Birds) boasted some pretty spectacular moments.  Wander/Wonder thankfully keeps most of elements that I love about Balam Acab's languorous, spectral soul intact, but takes a large leap forward in sophistication and ambitionl– in fact, quite a few people are already hailing it as one the year's best albums.  There are a couple of things that keep me from making that claim myself, but there is no denying that Koone is a goddamn wizard at what he does.
In a broad sense, Koone's work shares quite a bit of common ground with his labelmates oOoOO and Holy Other, as his songs are crafted from chopped-up and pitch-shifted vocal hooks and simple, languid beats.  Balam Acab has a much more boldly experimental streak than the rest of the Tri-Angle roster though.  For example, despite all of See Bird's sultry beats and beautifully fragile hooks, Koone never let a song go by without something warped or ingeniously anachronistic threatening to drag it all forcibly into far weirder, more abstract territory.  Such tactics would have been jarring and self-defeating in lesser hands, but Koone somehow always knew exactly how far he could push things without losing control.  In many ways, Wander/Wonder takes these skewed tendencies much further.  Unfortunately, Balam Acab lost some of its sharper textural edges in the process.
To put it bluntly: Koone is a bit water-obsessed.  Most of these eight songs feature very prominent burbling, gurgling, and dripping water sounds and absolutely everything sounds either submerged or amniotic (so much so that The Wire wryly described Koone's new direction as "womb-hop").  For example, the dripping and rippling sounds in "Fragile Hope" are so loud that they grab as much focus as the actual music.  This curious artistic decision is a mixed success, as it makes the entire album feel like a coherent, thematically linked suite and adds greatly to the dreamlike, post-coital feel of the music, but it is also a bit over-the-top and hackneyed.  Another curious quirk here is that Alec loves to pitch-shift vocals upwards to make them sound angelic or childlike (most of his peers go the other direction, opting to slow down and stretch vocals eerily).  I will grudgingly concede that the "sexy chipmunk" vocals succeed in making the songs feel endearingly innocent and vulnerable, but Koone comes uncomfortable close to sounding precious on several occasions.
In theory, this is exactly the sort of album that I would normally loathe: it relies very heavily on a hugely overused motif (water), lacks the grittier and more exotic touches of its predecessor, has some beats that fix it very much at this specific point in time, and is very intent on sounding "pretty."  Yet despite all those damning characteristics, I still find Wander/Wander extremely absorbing and likeable– Koone is simply that absurdly good at what he does. For all its comparative toothlessness, it is absolutely teeming with haunting vocal hooks and multiple layers of textured and hallucinatory strangeness in the periphery.  I was also struck by the sheer nakedness and simplicity of the melodies, as some pieces are little more than a single ghostly, melancholy voice amidst some hissing, crackling, and rippling, but they nevertheless manage to hold my attention completely.  It is not a stunning epiphany to say that strong motifs can stand on their own and don't need any added density to prop them up, but it is extremely rare for a "pop" album to be this daringly spare.
Finally, Alec is pretty ballsy in both avoiding the successful formula that put him on the map and in circumventing normal song structure.  He has essentially gone from writing nothing but potential singles to writing almost no potential singles at all.  There are a few grooves and beats here and there, but the bulk of the album drifts along with a dream-like logic, its melodies seamlessly emerging from or sinking into gently burbling pools of field recorded ambiance.  If Koone ever gets any softer than this, I am definitely out, but for now I am very much an admirer.  There are certainly some dubious individual moments strewn throughout this album, but they are all ultimately in service of a beguilingly warm and inspired whole.
Jefre Cantu-Ledesma's Love Is A Stream was one of my favorite albums from last year, but somehow the fact that his Tarentel bandmate released a great solo album of his own slipped completely under my radar.  Curiously, the two albums could not be more different, as Grady almost completely eschews any hints of the languid post-rock experimentalism of his main gig in favor of more traditional acoustic fare informed by both West African kora music and Eastern-tinged acoustic guitar titans from the '70s folk scene.  Some of it sounds a bit too familiar to make much of an impact on me, but the album's high points are impressive enough to easily eclipse such moments.
Instrumental acoustic guitar albums have always been very difficult for me to connect with on any kind of deep level.  I can certainly appreciate their composition and complexity, but it is pretty rare for me to truly love an acoustic guitar piece.  Grody, to his credit, has managed to bridge the vast gulf between aesthetic appreciation and emotional resonance in at least one case here, "Four Years."  There is no mystery or radical twist to the song, just a great melancholy chord progression combined with a simple, clear, and lushly melodic motif.  Grody simply gets everything exactly right: the harmonies, the pacing, the string scrapes, the texture, etc.  It is an absolutely perfect piece, but it is not an anomaly.  In fact, the languid and beautifully unhurried "Well Wisher" comes close to reaching similar heights, but ends far too soon to accumulate the necessary depth and momentum.  The spare and intimate "Hunted/Haunted" also comes quite close to replicating the magic, unfolding a beautiful progression of minor key arpeggios over a bed of tape hiss.  Curiously, that is the only piece that openly betrays the home-recorded origin of this album.  Too bad– I love tape hiss in this context.
As gifted as Grody is as a steel guitarist, most of Fountain's greatest moments come when he expands his palette a bit to allow room for organs, feedback, and studio-tweaking.  The title piece, for example, benefits greatly from its warm electronic haze and sublime organ accompaniment.  The gentle organ and plucked harmonic reverie "Night Blooms" is also quite beautiful, as is the glistening ambiance of "Covered Mirrors," the one instance where Danny seems to set his acoustic guitar aside entirely.  The album's mesmerizing closer ("Finding Time") again treads quite similar territory, but with stuttering and gently cascading harmonics obscured by its murky, shimmering drones.  For the most part, I think I prefer the more ambient/soundscape side of Danny's work ("Four Years" being an exception) , but the balance between drone works and guitar pieces works quite well here.  The variety suits the album beautiful.
I am actually a bit surprised by how much I like this album, as at least half of these songs are excellent.  In general, I am more drawn to work with a very distinctive or unique aesthetic than Grody exhibits here (though it is also nice when someone is just extremely good at what they do).  I don't mean to imply that Danny is derivative or lacking his own niche, but the more exotic and experimental aspects of his work (while present) are quite secondary to Fountain's success.  Sure, it is pretty neat that Danny artfully uses harmonics to mimic the chiming timbre of African harp music, but it is far more remarkable how intuitively skilled he is at crafting strong melodies and immersive soundscapes and how he avoids ruining his great ideas with clutter or overproduction.  He is simply very gifted at all of the traditional stuff that truly matters: intelligent arranging, compelling dynamics, great use of space, maintaining an unwaveringly "human" feel, etc. As a result, he has created a very warm, intimate, and organic album that has completely won me over.
Fans and critics have uncontrollable tendencies to place far too many expectations on something they had no expectations of to begin with. Think back to the first time you heard this Canadian collective: there was something about that very moment which COMMANDED your attention whether you care to admit it or not, even if you like the band or not. The sound was fresh and warmly welcomed, grand and overwhelming at times. Transcending a number of genres, there was little room for comparisons or classifications. They achieved something which my friend, Jeremy, of Temporary Residence considers a mark of success: people started comparing -other- things to them. There was something more, however—something almost indescribable and intangible—which started out like a small mystery and has built to a frenzied, inescapable force-field which surrounds this simple instrumental rock group. Godspeed certainly could share the blame of setting the winds in motion—perhaps due to the choices of samples and the use of symbols and messages tucked inside artwork or projected on the stage screens. Couple these with a feverish, caustic and sensational media, aching for a soundbyte to exploit or an individual to single out, and things can easily spin out of control.
The band's fourth recording feels like their attempt to wrestle control back into their court. 'Yanqui' is a simple and pleasing instrumental rock record, as straight up as Godspeed can probably ever get—void of the musical gimmicks in which the band has become known for. The songs are once again lengthy, but noticably absent of the multiple-parts approach. The build up on each of the five tracks is simple but no less enjoyable than anything else they've done, whether it's with the droning strings on the second part of "09-15-00" or the quiet yet piercing bell-like opening of the first part of "Motherfucker=Redeemer." In addition, there are no speeches of the moral decline by senile old people or random Iron Maiden fans roaming the streets. Either they didn't want to go "mining for shit" through various tapes of field recordings or they're sick of people actually believing these bits are far more than instrumental coloration. The only extra-curricular additions are some pleasantly odd chords struck by wind instruments during the quiet moments of "Rockets Fall on Rocket Falls." For an album which is not meant to be their crossover or major breakthrough, I think the band has successfully conveyed, musicially, that they are simply a rock band, and don't want to be either saviors nor Satan's spawn.
When Guided By Voices initially left Matador Records to record with TVT, it was rumored that the main point of contention was Rob Pollard's prolific songwriting, and his inability to concentrate on just one release. Solo records, records under different band names, EPs, and singles dotted the marketplace from GBV, and Gerard Cosloy wished Pollard wouldn't cause fans confusion over which release to buy. After all, who has money to buy 9 releases a year from Mr. Pollard? (Especially when some of which aren't any good.)
Now, Pollard has the Fading Captain Series, where he releases all of his wacked-out side projects in limited pressings, and they're back on Matador. So it seems surprising that that label is willing to let Pollard release this "odds and sods" collection under the Fading Captain name, especially since it is a Guided By Voices release, not the Circus Devils or Airport 5. Pollard and Co. do thank Matador in the liner notes, but it still feels odd considering the past. But these tracks, recorded during sessions for 'Isolation Drills' and 'Universal Truths and Cycles' are an interesting sort that hint at both the past and present without being either. They're partially in between both aforementioned records—too tame for 'Truths', yet too strange for 'Drills,' which was arguably their most accessible release. The title track is a perfect example: catchy yet annoying, solid yet sloppy, and in your face yet distant, it is as study in contradictions. Which makes it one of the most compelling GBV songs ever. "Dig Through My Window" is better than anything on their last two records, with its careful strings and irresistable melody. Elsewhere, it's more than the same, but with a touch more class. 'Pipe Dreams...' is a quick listen, with ten tracks at just over twenty-three minutes, but it's also a great introduction to this, the most consistent and most hard rocking, incarnation of GBV. Loyal fans will rejoice, casuals will waffle but give in, and once in a blue moon fans will avoid like the plague. And that's exactly the way it should be.
DFA As the art punk progression tends more and more towards electronic experimentation, Black Dice are ready to offer their interpretation of the movement, fusing their improvisational noise rock with an electronic sound which calls to mind Beaver and Krause, and a musique concrete similar to Xenakis. There are clicks, beeps, voice samples, chirps, echoes, robots, chimes, wails, mystic hums, crunches, and Oriental pentatonic scales. The group's previous releases for the Gravity and Troubleman Unlimited labels were unbalanced by their composition: many extremely short, kinetic songs combined with one or two longer songs. Here, the songs start off long and get increasingly longer. The band chooses to employ its heretofore unexplored potential energy in these songs, rather than just brashly offering their kinetic formulae. It's fascinating to hear this evolution, particularly because I used to think Black Dice were one-trick ponies. Live shows of the band were always intense and fun, but not always well-suited for translation onto record. With this record they have proved me wrong, and have developed into a forceful and imaginative experimental collective to listen to in my room. What will be interesting to see is whether their new sound is adaptable to their explosive live performances. 'Beaches and Canyons' starts out with the six-minute long "Seabird," an appropriately maritime number which unmistakably features some perturbed plover signaling the unjust encroachment on its nesting sand dune with constant squawks. The plover may or may not be robotic, and may or may not actually be a tern. By the end of the song, the intruder has clearly left, but bird is still squawking, albeit a little less virulently. "The Dream is Going Down" takes us to a canyon where robot voices bounce of the eroding limestone walls, while during the last six minutes of "Endless Happiness," waves and tidal sounds wash over us as the supposedly interminable bliss eventually does fall off. By the time the seventeen minutes of "Big Drop," the last song, comes about, we have literally dropped from the canyons in an errant spelunking mission into a cave where sound bounces about violently and the vocals scream, recalling Black Dice's older output. Wherever we find ourselves by the end of the album, the echoes in the music remind us that we are still in Black Dice's canyons, while the crashing of waves reminds us that we still have one foot rooted on the shores of an undiscovered beach.
Dude, I had no idea how BECK Dirk Dresselhaus had become. To be fair, the only Schneider TM that I was really familiar with at all before Zoomer was 'Binokular' from two years ago, which I really liked. But there were only 2 tracks with vocals on that album/EP, and they were fairly understated; on Zoomer, the vocals are pretty upfront most of the time.
And he really does sound like Beck (or at least a glossier, techno-savvy, Germanic Beck doppleganger), especially on pop-friendly tracks like "Frogtoise" and "Abyss." I could forgive Dresselhaus for his Beckishness if his lyrics were decent, but to quote verbatim from the lyric sheet: "I had a dream / I cut a frog in half / And a turtle too / oh, oh, oh, oh..." (It's the "ohs" and "yeahs" and "heys" that really get to me.) Some of the singing actually sounds pretty good, if a bit overly chipper. Musically, most of the album is upbeat, light electronic pop, with a little guitar thrown in for good measure. The production is slick and the beats are rhythmically interesting. But Dresselhaus doesn't take many risks, preferring to stay within safe, accessible territory—and unfortunately, it makes 'Zoomer' seem a little dated. There's obviously a lot of talent here, but its overshadowed by Schneider TM's seemingly newfound pop flashiness (see the Beckish cover shot). I guess part of me really wanted this album to be a good counter-attack to the (sigh) "electroclash" mentality of most recent electronic pop. [Note: you can be influenced by New Order without trying to sound exactly like them.] To be fair, the influences run deep on Zoomer, but the end result doesn't stick with me like I hoped it might. The one exception is the album's opener, "Reality Check," which, despite its overused vocoded vocals and flangy guitar, is a fine, catchy pop song that I can't help returning to. Considering that the album also contains the awful "Turn On," with (I'm serious) a guest rapper, the two tracks balance out, returning 'Zoomer' to its natural state of mediocrity.
Badman Recording Co. Don't blame Canada. It just so happens they have some pretty damn fantastic songwriters. Current exhibit Hayden took the music industry by storm with his self-recorded and self-released debut 'Everything I Long For'. The storm was big enough for him to get signed to Geffen imprint Outpost. Woe to those on Outpost, though, after the Unigram merger, as the label was dissolved in the deal. Many of the artists were snatched up by other labels, but Hayden was left in the cold after the mixed-bag sophomore slump of his second CD, 'The Closer I Get'. So he hibernated. And waited. And went back to his roots, recording again in his home with some close friends. The results are this underrated album that was originally planned as a 1000 copy limited addition, but was snatched up by Badman after demand was high. Not a departure by any means, 'Skyscraper National Park' is instead signs of introspective growth as well as hope for this talented songwriter to finally get the attention he deserves. Where previous works have featured Hayden's low growl, this record has him singing quite capably, even touching Kurt Wagner territory on a few songs. The primary modus operandi hasn't changed, though. Slower, melodic folk rock songs with quirky lyrics are the order of the day, with electric guitar used as a squelch tool and noisemaker on such fare as "Dynamite Walls". And Hayden is clearly finding his voice again after almost three years away from recording. He's a little hesitant, and less than perfect vocally on these songs, but it's still refreshing compared to other home-recorded CDs being released these days. My only complaint is it's length - eleven songs at just over thirty-nine minutes is better than most, but after three years I wanted to hear more. All told, though, it's a great indication where Hayden is now, and where this wave might take him. Look for Hayden's recent live album in addition, as word is it's brilliant.
Chocolate Industries Chicago's Diverse is twenty-five year old MC Kenny Jenkins, who has been making a name for himself through his craft and collaborations with the mighty Mos Def, Prefuse 73 (see Wylin' Out review) as well as Isotope 217 members Matt Lux and Jeff Parker. At one time a mail delivery driver for a local university (that's his van on the cover), Jenkins honed his MC skills and released an EP entitled "Move." This follow-up EP is a taste of what's in store when a full length release materializes later this year. "Certified" is chock full of socially conscious lyrics which flow relaxed and steadily against the dirty funk guitar driven groove, produced by RJD2, which would sound right at home on one of those 70s 'Pulp Fusion' compilations. Jenkins gives a tight vocal delivery on "Build" over K-Kruz's jazzier channeled production which makes use of subtle muted trumpet and gives a nice and chill kinda feel. Both of these tunes also appear as instrumental versions, which highlight elements in backing tracks that would not draw as much attention with vocals over top. Of course, there's also the obligatory radio edi*s, so as not to piss anyone *ff. Based on this EP, Diverse is a name to keep your ear open for.
Touch and Go Black Heart Procession's fourth album marks a divergence away from the band's convention to number each album consecutively, so it should not surprise anyone that the sound of the band has also undergone a change. Within the first few minutes of the album, there are unprecedented female backing vocals which persist throughout the record and end up feeling like more of an indulgence than an affectation. "Amore del Tropico" is supposedly an overture to a murder mystery. Like anyone who has seen the band's live shows, which are robust with masks, disguises, and theatrical distance, I was at first skeptical about the sincerity of this project as a true murder mystery. After hearing "Tropics of Love," the first full-fledged song after a brief opening number, my skepticism disappeared. The song begins with a snazzy up-tempo beat to which you could snap your fingers, and you begin to wonder if they are scoring some lost Raymond Chandler novel, as this song could easily fit into the opening titles sequence. Interestingly, there is an 'Amore del Tropico' DVD forthcoming which will flesh out the narrative of this tropical murder mystery, with each song from the album creating a new chapter. It will be interesting to see if this project ever materializes. From what we have at hand now, I don't think I could tell you who was killed, where it occurred, or what the murder weapon was, let alone solve the crime. Perhaps my bumbling sleuthing is due to the fact that I find it hard to get drawn into this album like the previous Black Heart Procession records. I found myself distracted while listening to the album, trying to piece together the underlying mystery, but disgruntled knowing that I was never very good at solving even the most rudimentary Encyclopedia Brown case. The one time I was fully aware of the album's concept was in "Fingerprints," when singer Pall Jenkins repeats, "They found my fingerprints," amidst a wailing violin which is reminiscent of the fiddle from Bob Dylan's 'Desire' album. While adopting the mood of the murder mystery, the Black Heart Procession have forsaken their signature mood of old, which was grave, dense and swirling. Despite the macabre subject, the newly forged mood seems light and comical. "A Cry for Love" would be a song of the old Black Heart mood, were it not for the punctuating female backing vocals, which sound like they were culled from Isaac Hayes's "Theme from Shaft." The finale, "The One Who Disappeared," returns reluctantly to the older Black Heart sound, and it is comforting to know that, now that the murder mystery has dwindled down to its final clues, and all the leads and hunches have been followed to their end, the band at last can retrace its footsteps back to where they began and start again from where they left off.
Not so conceptual, not sad or very beautiful, not likely to persist in its impression, Liars simply grab onto immediate, relentless hooks and make urgent, funky fun. It's like this: three-minute songs with slithery disco-punk bass lines, given a slightly chilly imperviousness by sparse synthesizers and walkie-talkie barked vocals. Good stuff, with the exception of the last track, which ends in a looped locked-groove, extending over 30 minutes! (An excuse to make an "album" out of an EP?) Go figure, because this plodding bore is the complete opposite of the album's leading tracks.
"Grown men don't fall in the river, just like that" is a rousing, somewhat ironic wake-up call from the band that's got its "finger on the pulse of America": "Can you hear us? / Not too political, nothing too clever." I applaud the use of electronic handclaps and cowbells on "Mr your on fire Mr." On this track, you can practically see the lead singer wiggling his butt in this jerky twister's breathless pauses. It's not the most memorable album I've heard recently, but the songs are captivating in their frenetic, ephemeral sorta way. However, most of the material here is so sonically of a genre and lyrically unremarkable that I can't really think of a reason why I would choose the Liars above any other band that makes punk rawk kids shake their thangs.
Chocolate Industries This cornucopia of Hip-Hop-styled and inspired music makes for a perfect primer for the new directions in which this music is thriving, from an independent, non-bling-bling standpoint. The Chicago-based Chocolate Industries label has put together a choice compilation featuring a plethora of artists which include members of the Def Jux familia such as Aesop Rock and Mr. Lif, Prefuse 73, Diverse, Cibo Matto's Miho Hatori and DJ Food. Opening the disc is a college radio sounding ad listing the guest appearances which launches into Prefuse 73's "Radio Attack Pt.2" which has some cool breaks that vary from the version on his 'Vocal Studies + Uprock Narratives' release. Souls of Mischief's "Spark" provides a head-nodding groove filled with some simple yet great organ samples while proclaiming, "We align with the planets and stars / Advancing the art form whenever we spar." RJD2's "True Confessions" chronicles the satirical church confessions of a seventeen year old stereo thief and burglar to a shocked and surprised priest, set to a rocking backing track of pounding drums and distorted guitar samples. El-P's signature backing track and sharp lyrics ring out in "Deadlight" with vocal plays on Apple's FireWire and Apocalypse Now, complete with a reference to 70s fusion heads Emerson Lake and Palmer and Pavlov. This is one of the more thought provoking tracks on the disc that'll have ya hitting the back skip button to make sure you caught it all. In the "surprise surprise" department—but then again, not really—is Tortoise with their contribution "C.T.A.," which has a real remix feel to it. Comprised of clipped live drums, synth patches and processed guitar, the track builds with repetition throughout the clever, winding progression. At about the halfway mark, the most anticipated and monstrous bassline kicks in and pulls it home. Overall, the disc's eighteen tracks play through as if you were listening to a hip college radio program, complete with brief interludes from Prefuse 73 and altered chit-chat.