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(04/07/18 6:16pm)
Frankie Cosmos has quickly become more than just a forlorn, artsy, indie minstrel. The time of chalking Greta Kline and Co. up as “just another bedroom act” faded right before Zentropy, the outfit’s first proper studio release. Tracks like “Owen” and “School” found the band fusing catchy, DIY instrumentals with poetic, heartfelt lyrics dealing with realistic and visceral topics. Next Thing, the more critically lauded 2016 studio release, was slightly more experimental than Zentropy, delving into more unconventional song structures. Meanwhile, Greta Kline’s “every kid” persona remained, fortified through anthems like “Sappho” and “Too Dark.”
(03/30/18 8:01pm)
by Preston Radtke
Frankie Cosmos has quickly become more than just a forlorn, artsy, indie minstrel. The time of chalking Greta Kline and Co. up as “just another bedroom act” faded right before Zentropy, the outfit's first proper studio release. Tracks like “Owen” and “School” found the band fusing catchy, DIY instrumentals with poetic, heartfelt lyrics dealing with realistic and visceral topics. Next Thing, the more critically lauded 2016 studio release, was slightly more experimental than Zentropy, delving into more unconventional song structures. Meanwhile, Greta Kline’s “every kid” persona remained, fortified through anthems like “Sappho” and “Too Dark.”
In the following two years, the band remarked on a nationwide tour, played Pitchfork Music Festival, and lead singer Greta Kline was featured on What I Want, the short-lived Brooklyn garage rock band who released their sole album last year. But the band’s crowning achievement of the year happened when they signed with legendary indie label Sub Pop. It was a hint that the band was near their arrival into the indie mainstream for good.
2018’s Vessel is everything that Frankie Cosmos is and should be: emotive themes, poetic lyrics, and self-deprecating humor. As was the case with Next Thing and Zentropy, Frankie Cosmos has marvelously captured the essence of a movement and even a generation. Kline and friends shoved away any hints at complacency with the tighter and more complex instrumentals and song structures. It seems the complexity of the band’s instrumentation is ever-changing in line with the people playing them.
The Luke Pyenson show
Frankie Cosmos are masters of tempo. Instead of disregarding percussion and rhythm as something for Daft Punk and LCD Soundsystem, the band effectively uses tempo to help exhilarate and synthesize different moods and colors of tracks.
On Vessel, the talents of Luke Pyenson manifest themselves beyond the assumed capabilities of the average, bedroom pop drummer. Take “Feeling Alive”, a stop-and-go exploration of obsessive love and self-doubt. The song flits between slow, groovy anti-choruses, and frantic, nearly punkish lyrical attacks by Kline. In both instances Pyenson’s drumming sets the speed and further emphasizes “Feeling Alive”’s emotion and meaning. Then there’s “Jesse:” the first single off the record, and perhaps the most instrumentally dense. At around the one-and-a-half minute mark, Pyenson employs an unbalanced drum section that becomes the most obvious and omnipresent instrumental on the track, a track that featured two electric guitars, a bass guitar, and a keyboard. On “Jesse” Pyenson’s drumming seemed to represent the nervous heartbeat and conscience of a protagonist dealing with the melancholy morphing of a once-faithful friend.
Album opener “Caramelize” features a driving, almost pop-punk guitar section by Kline. On this track, this innovative guitar chorus adds needed grit and struggle to the song, which focuses on the inconsistencies of self-esteem.
The sadly brief “Ur Up” contains the only instance of instrumental shortcoming on this record. The 35-second track seems to depict Kline messing around on a piano with some nonsensical vocals. The critique here is that the album could have had more piano, as Kline’s delicate voice pairs perfectly with the robust, yet flexible nature of the instrument. Hopefully in the future the quartet could revisit an upright.
An album for you and me
Frankie Cosmos crafts songs so thoroughly that the characters they sing about could easily be your best friends. Zentropy’s “Buses Splash With Rain” was an introspective analysis of just why the protagonist is clumsy and “not with it.” “Sinister” from Next Thing found its protagonist stepping back and acknowledging their rude and unruly behavior, a sentiment that every self-aware collegian feels whether they end up admitting it or not.
These relevant themes remain on Vessel. “The End” is maybe the saddest, rawest track on the album, dealing with the immediate plight of living with someone who doesn’t love you anymore and the logistical and emotional problems associated. While Vessel is certainly instrumentally progressive, “The End” is a throwback to the Bandcamp days. The song features an undynamic acoustic guitar beneath Kline’s mournful vocals, a recipe perfected extensively on their massive Bandcamp catalog.
Much like synthpop standout artist Poppy, Frankie Cosmos explores the perils and conquests of digital relationships. The aptly named “My Phone” finds the band providing proverbial pros-and-cons of hosting many friendships and relationships on a screen. The idea of touring and maintaining long-distance relationships is an old trope for the band, and it is even further extrapolated on “My Phone.”
Then there’s “Accommodate”, the most personal and relevant track for lead singer Greta Kline. “Accommodate” is Kline’s documentation of her struggle with personal upkeep. Though the song sounds upbeat and innocent, its theme of physical and emotional personal neglect make it feel all the more real. The instrumental and lyrical patterns seem to depict an external view of a person, while the vocals detail the true nature of struggle and negative self-care.
For the first time, Frankie Cosmos feels like a band
Frankie Cosmos’ previous releases, though massively catchy and admirable, all felt like solo efforts of songstress Greta Kline. Aside from the odd Aaron Maine feature, all songs were performed by Kline, and none of the backing instrumentation was so present or solidified as to take away attention from her. On this release, bandmates Alex Bailey, Lauren Martin, and Luke Pyenson seem to have succeeded in having some sort of peaceful mutiny. Now each one of them have carved out specific, instantly identifiable sections within the album.
For “Ballad of R & J,” both Bailey and Martin take turns singing the chorus and bridge, shedding light on both of their hereby unknown vocal styles. Additionally, both get solos near the conclusion of “Feeling Alive.” For a band fronted by the angelic-sounding Greta Kline, it’s impressive that the duo has just stood idly by despite the fact that they too have very beautiful and textured voices. “Feeling Alive” was Bailey’s coming-out party, her groovy bass lines help set the stage for the downtrodden, more depressed part of the song, ever differentiating it, and making the frantic sprint all the more effective.
Pyenson’s drumming has certainly received its due share of praise, so instead it’s his singing that needs to be commented on. On “Feeling Alive,” Pyenson crawls to the mic, providing the closing line of the track that's the finality of the song’s ethos. As stated above, the song deals with the highs and lows of obsessive love. Pyenson’s unprofessional, yet realistic, vocal section seems to represent the prevailing and long-lasting feeling of the confused protagonist.
Top tracks:
“Bus Bus Train Train”
“Jesse”
“Accommodate”
Recommended if you like:
Big Thief
Angel Olson
Adult Mom
Featured image from Genius
(02/26/18 8:04pm)
On U.S. Girls’s sixth full-length album, the project finds a sonic balance, a beautiful conglomeration of sounds spanning multiple genres and personalities. U.S. Girls’ brand of electropop is more integrated and well-rounded on this release than ever before. Jazz, disco, and funk are all blended to help shape this project’s ever-growing sound. Thematically, the record deals with typical problems that women face in 2018. Lyrically, the record is fierce and defiant. Instrumentally however, that same angst and confidence seems lacking.
(02/26/18 12:06am)
by Preston Radtke
On U.S. Girls’s sixth full-length album, the project finds a sonic balance, a beautiful conglomeration of sounds spanning multiple genres and personalities. U.S. Girls’ brand of electropop is more integrated and well-rounded on this release than ever before. Jazz, disco, and funk are all blended to help shape this project’s ever-growing sound. Thematically, the record deals with typical problems that women face in 2018. Lyrically, the record is fierce and defiant. Instrumentally however, that same angst and confidence seems lacking.
U.S. Girls make liberal use of genre blending
In reviewing In A Poem Unlimited it’s not hard to bear witness to frontwoman Meghan Remy’s influences. While no song on this record sounds like a carbon copy of another artist, there are several obvious parallels. The synth-ridden, accessible textures and relatable vocals of “M.A.H.” reek of early Madonna, halfway between the CBGB Madonna and the MTV Madonna. The gritty, almost spoken-word delivery of “Incidental Boogie” is reminiscent of Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea-era P.J. Harvey, possibly a musician that Remy is trying to emulate. “L-Over,” one of the most sensual and texturized cuts off the record, synthetically feels like an English-language version of an Air track. Finally, there’s “Poem,” whose atmospheric synths and reverbed vocals go hand-in-hand with Visions-era Grimes.
Remy makes a very concerted effort to experiment with new genres on this record. “Pearly Gates” finds Remy pushing into the funk world and even slightly into the hip-hop genre from a percussive standpoint. Remy even takes the record to the lounge on “Rage of Plastics,” a jazzy high-brow track that sounds more exotic than bizarre.
All of these influences and genre skipping haven’t yielded many awkward or ineffective tracks though. Many times when someone so boldly attempts to blend new styles into their music they come off sounding disrespectful or they make something that sounds devoid of their original essence. This wasn’t a problem for Remy, as it’s clear that she made a concerted effort to balance new tropes with her own strengths.
Let the record show, though, that the best song on the LP, “Rosebud,” is the most U.S. Girls song on the album. On this track, U.S. Girls’ traditional strengths and song structures are realized with minimal alterations. Those alterations come in the form of more discrete beats and atmospheric vocals, which were few and far between on earlier material.
Remy’s vocals are a humbling lesson in moderation
Earlier in Remy’s career her music was more lo-fi, dramatically dominated by either the vocal or instrumental. On this record though, Remy’s vocals are much more effectively mixed and level with the backing instrumentation. “Rosebud” is a perfect example of this more effective production. If Remy’s vocals were louder and even more present on this track “Rosebud” would be too obnoxious and over-the-top. However, if Remy’s vocals were quieter then the song would seem amateurish and depersonalized.
The record also effectively uses reverb and atmospherics. “Velvet 4 Sale” finds Remy’s vocals hovering just beneath the clouds. The dictated synthetic-ness of “M.A.H.” forces Remy’s voice to be more rhythmic and complementary to her instrumentation, both things she accomplishes marvelously.
The only issue vocally on the record is on “Rage of Plastics.” The song’s jazzy ethos isn’t matched perfectly by Remy. Her voice is just a tad bit too produced and echoed for a song that fuses elements of jazz and funk.
A distinctly 2018 album
Thematically, In a Poem Unlimited acts as the pulse of many Millennial women today. The 11 tracks deal with subjects as mundane as infidelity and aging, while also commenting on darker matter like sexual assault and religious disenfranchisement. Remy’s vocals on their own help paint these somewhat biographical motifs with enough grace and grit. However, the overall juxtapositions truly hammer home the album’s meaning. Routinely throughout the album Remy’s vocal tone doesn’t align with the mood of the instrumentation, creating a noticeable divide representative of today’s society.
On “Velvet 4 Sale”, the album’s lead woman tells the story of a massively disloyal significant other and the effect that his infidelity has on our protagonist. Vocally, Remy plays the role of the protagonist’s thoughts, her worries, her highs and lows and even her darker and more carnal thoughts. Meanwhile, the synths and production paint a more measured, nondescript picture. The synths represent the protagonist’s external image, and what the outside world sees. As the song progresses, Remy ruminates on more abrasive action toward this wayward lover, culminating in her advising someone to kill their own lover to learn from her mistakes. The synths still maintain their easygoing manner, transforming the feel of this song to Pennywise the Dancing Clown levels of creepiness.
A big concept on this record is internal struggle vs. external image. On the whole Remy tells that still in 2018, as a woman you are expected to bottle up any emotions that are counter to the status quo, no matter how much they eat at you.
“Rosebud” deals directly with the male-dominated social scape today. On this track Remy forces us to admit that pop culture, the news, and the financial world are still disproportionately male-leaning today. It is an obvious allusion to the famed Orson Welles film, a film that at its release lived in a world that suffered from the same disproportions as today.
Top tracks:
“Velvet 4 Sale”
“Rosebud”
“L-Over”
Recommended if you like:
Charlotte Gainsbourg
Hinds
Jenny Hval
Featured image from Reddit
(02/06/18 11:00pm)
First things first, Freedom’s Goblin is a musical enigma. It is extraordinarily experimental and almost as egregiously two-faced as a Batman villain. The album sees Segall dabbling in genres he has never before dabbled in, like classic rock, jazz and even folk. This experimentation is the record’s most admirable and promising aspect. On the other hand, the record is a kerfuffle of unfinished instrumentals and haphazard vocalizations. Ty Segall’s brand of rock has always blended elements of psych-rock, garage and punk, all tied together with a greasy, DIY aesthetic befitting of such an artist. Freedom’s Goblin structurally and compositionally takes that messiness to a whole new level, infecting new genres and concepts. With that in mind, Freedom’s Goblin is simultaneously his most outlandish and different record and the most Segall of all Segall records.
(02/06/18 2:00pm)
The third LP from Porches is nothing short of magnificently flawed and supremely disappointing. The House is cut from the same synth-pop mold as 2016’s Pool minus the intimate production and catchy melodies. The first two records from Porches, Slow Dance in the Cosmos and Pool, both showed impressive promise for a musician who had yet to crack the quarter-century mark. Though they differed dramatically in style, they both had effective production and personality to spare. However, The House is simply malevolent in its mediocrity and blandness. Here’s hoping that on their next release Porches harkens back to whatever musical fairy dust they partook in during 2013 or 2016.
(02/05/18 3:44pm)
by Preston Radtke
First things first, Freedom’s Goblin is a musical enigma. It is extraordinarily experimental and almost as egregiously two-faced as a Batman villain. The album sees Segall dabbling in genres he has never before dabbled in, like classic rock, jazz and even folk. This experimentation is the record’s most admirable and promising aspect. On the other hand, the record is a kerfuffle of unfinished instrumentals and haphazard vocalizations. Ty Segall’s brand of rock has always blended elements of psych-rock, garage and punk, all tied together with a greasy, DIY aesthetic befitting of such an artist. Freedom’s Goblin structurally and compositionally takes that messiness to a whole new level, infecting new genres and concepts. With that in mind, Freedom’s Goblin is simultaneously his most outlandish and different record and the most Segall of all Segall records.
Segall infiltrates new genres with mixed results
Ty Segall gets in his own way on many occasions on Freedom’s Goblin. “My Lady’s On Fire” is the record’s most ambitious folk output, and one of the best-written tracks on the record. Segall’s delivery, though, is slightly off-putting. His singular vocal style seems to lead the track too much; never truly letting the lyrics sing for themselves. The ever-present pickle of Freedom’s Goblin is that no matter how many new genres Segall implements, and no matter how effectively he executes them, the aura of Ty Segall still looms. The crooning on “My Lady’s On Fire” is held back by the fact that it almost doesn’t feel natural for Segall, and in that light, the audience may feel uncomfortable or suspicious of the performance.
Listening to “My Lady’s On Fire” and other tracks, it’s not unreasonable to think that Segall himself doesn’t feel overwhelmingly confident about his genre-bending, so why should his audience?
Complicating matters further is the fact that many songs on this LP sound like traditional Segall gems. Unfortunately, they almost serve as reminders of who we’re really listening to: a garage-rocker in the same vein as Oh Sees. In a way this is quite unfortunate, because the songwriting on this album is very beautiful at times, but either Segall’s delivery or his implied role as a musician impedes him.
Segall should take a page out of the King's playbook
The blur of genres and sloppily compiled arrangements give the record an almost mixtape-like feel. The collection of folk, garage rock and (gasp) even dad-rock songs provide the record with a dizzying sense of multiple personality, not eccentricity. Tracks like “When Mommy Kills You” and “I’m Free” show nice potential but never really cash in. Both tracks feature unrealized progressions and fragmented themes that are begging for either a climax or satisfactory denouement.
Ty should have taken a page from King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, a kindred spirit in the contemporary garage rock landscape. In 2017, King Gizzard released 5 separate albums, each focusing on a distinct genre while still keeping their unique sound. For the sake of maintaining his songs' messages and his artistic integrity, Segall might have considered breaking up Freedom’s Goblin in to at least 3 individual LPs. The reasoning behind him not specifying his sound is an interesting one. Was the messiness of the album intended? Is he planning on releasing more albums this year? Or is this album simply a transitional piece, a sort of barrage of genres created to learn what his audience appreciates most?
Freedom’s Goblin is an odyssey and an oddity. Unusual for a punk record, it stretches over an hour with several songs that last longer than six minutes. Because of this, there are moments where the record drags instrumentally and contextually. The theme of the record is a touching one, but it doesn’t carry enough weight to be effectively spread out over an hour's worth of content.
Freedom’s Goblin is the quintessential Ty Segall love note
This record is dedicated almost completely to Segall’s wife, Denee. The 19 tracks explore virtually everything about their relationship, from the onset to their early dating phase to the struggles that each experiences when Ty is on the road. Segall does a phenomenal job personifying and re-enacting their relationship for the listener. Though the length and inherent disorganization of the record is dismaying, they both serve as symbols of their relationship and relationships on the whole.
Segall’s courtship with Denee is very sporadic and befitting of such a prolific musician. Fortunately, the songs effectively tell the tales of many of their adventures and feelings. "Everyone’s a Winner" represents the tumultuous life of a musical couple. The dissonant guitars and confident percussion paint the picture of a songster running around the country doing rock things while his wife stays home living a more conservative life. “Alta” is the most sentimental track on the record, a living document of Segall’s compassion for Denee. “Cry Cry Cry” is probably the saddest song on the record, a narrative whereupon both parties seem to end the relationship due to either neglect or unfaithfulness. For all the flak that the record deserves from a structural and experimental standpoint, it sends much of it back with its lyrical themes.
Top tracks:
“Cry Cry Cry”
“Rain”
“And Goodnight”
Recommended if you like:
Oh Sees
Jeff Rosenstock
Wand
Featured image from Bandcamp
(01/26/18 7:52pm)
by Preston Radtke
The third LP from Porches is nothing short of magnificently flawed and supremely disappointing. The House is cut from the same synth-pop mold as 2016’s Pool minus the intimate production and catchy melodies. The first two records from Porches, Slow Dance in the Cosmos and Pool, both showed impressive promise for a musician who had yet to crack the quarter-century mark. Though they differed dramatically in style, they both had effective production and personality to spare. However, The House is simply malevolent in its mediocrity and blandness. Here’s hoping that on their next release Porches harkens back to whatever musical fairy dust they partook in during 2013 or 2016.
In The House, the synth popped
It’s clear that Porches was aiming for a more mature and professional brand of synth-pop on The House. Sadly, what they ended up with were awkward grooves atop surprisingly mundane beats. “Find Me”, one of the album’s supposed 'hits', finds a clumsy and downbeat synth section layered above an aggressive, out-of-character beat orchestration. It sounds like it should be pumping out of the speakers at the nearest Jazzersize class, not the record of some indie try-hard. This mismatching of style and execution is omnipresent throughout this record; “Anymore” and “By My Side” are other examples of this most unfortunate new virus.
While combining irregular textures is the most egregious of the synth-pop crimes, another is the overall misunderstanding of tempo and instrumentation. Time and time again on The House, Maine composes tracks with vocals, instrumentation and percussion that just don’t seem to mesh together rhythmically. The opening cut, “Leave the House”, has a synthetic instrumental just begging for an effective intelligence dance music (IDM) beat or even a mainstream hip-hop beat. What we get is something unsure and slightly out-of-step, a beat that features synthetic cymbals that bizarrely enough are much more aggressive and fast-paced than the snare or bass. It’s almost like the cymbals are trying to speed up their percussive cousins, but they stodgily object.
Aaron Maine’s voice needs to get out of the garage
Slow Dance in the Cosmos was effective in large part because of how well Aaron Maine’s voice blended in with the aesthetic of the music. The debut release was a tight collection of garage rock with an indie bow on top. Maine’s voice was rough and grave enough to make any Julian Casablancas acolyte blush. Maine kept this denim-jacket wearing, long-haired vocal style throughout Pool. On Pool though, his melodies and landmark instrumentals made his voice sound quirky, not out of place.
That all changed on The House. Maine doesn’t seem to realize that he’s working with a synth-pop/electronic project, not a band that opens for Parquet Courts. Rough and raw do not lend themselves well to glossy and electronic. He does deserve some admiration for not hiding in reverb or vocoder, but his singular, unvarnished voice just does not work on this record. We’ll look to “Leave the House” again, where Maine’s vocal misappropriation is on peak display. This song is begging for a smooth, measured delivery, not a raspy and brash one.
If Maine isn’t going to doctor his voice at all or even change his style, he should at least craft songs that don’t demand that he undergo any major cliffs or valleys. “Country”, one of the shorter and least synthy cuts, is a slow, sensual burn that allows us to get more intimate and introspective.
That intimacy and introspection is rooted in Maine’s slow, prudent vocal delivery. He sings with a certain refined grace not found on many other songs off the album. “Country” is one of the rare instances where the audience feels a contextual connection to what Maine is drawling on about.
The House has no "Maine" point
When listening to this LP one question kept arising: So what’s this about? What inevitably followed was the proverbial blank stare of the soul. There is a mighty contextual disconnect on this record. Maine’s vocals are far too generic and almost cookie-cutter to form any lyrical meaning. Furthermore, the instrumentals are so disjointed and fractured that any understanding of what they are trying to say is miserably lost.
It’s unclear what needed to be more emphatic: Maine’s vocals or the backing instrumentation. In many cases it's probably that they both lack the needed fervor and relatability required for a successful sound. Frankly speaking, if someone was going to make a musical interpretation of the uber politically correct individual, this would not be an awful representation.
On many records, the music is meant to embolden the listener or force them to look inward at themselves; it becomes a vehicle through which the listener learns something about themselves. Ambient powers like The Orb and DJ Shadow are premier examples. However, The House allows for no such introspection or self-analysis. The instrumentals are far too basic and shallow. The beauty of introspective music is that the textures and instrumentals are so intricate that they open the listener’s mind and allow them to observe both themselves and the world around them unbiased. The House’s textures are way too familiar and predictable for this. Instead of looking inward, the listener thinks about what they’re having for dinner, or who the new anchor is on the 5 o’clock news.
Top tracks:
“Country”
“Now the Water”
“Wobble”
Recommended if you like:
Neon Indian
Blood Orange
Wild Nothing
Featured image from Porches Music
(01/19/18 7:40pm)
It was a busy 2017 for Frankie Cosmos. Riding the high of 2016’s Next Thing, the band spent a good portion of the year touring and starting up side projects. The most noteworthy result of 2017 for the outfit was signing to indie super-label Sub Pop. At the conclusion of the year many music heads were whispering about an impending freshman release on Sub Pop, but no one had a clear-cut date. Then the band released “Jesse” – the lead single off of Vessel, their third full-length LP to be out on March 30.
(01/19/18 1:45am)
by Preston Radtke
It was a busy 2017 for Frankie Cosmos. Riding the high of 2016’s Next Thing, the band spent a good portion of the year touring and starting up side projects. The most noteworthy result of 2017 for the outfit was signing to indie super-label Sub Pop. At the conclusion of the year many music heads were whispering about an impending freshman release on Sub Pop, but no one had a clear-cut date. Then the band released “Jesse” – the lead single off of Vessel, their third full-length LP to be out on March 30.
“Jesse” is a beautifully necessary and promising cut for such a young band. The instrumentation, structure and vocal performance are far more complex than their previous material, resulting in a more intimate and personality-infused song.
While singer Greta Kline's vocals are innovative and effective, it’s the guitar work and drumming that make this song fly. Throughout the entirety of the song, there is a stark juxtaposition between lead and backing guitars. Instead of sounding disjointed or confusing, the resulting sound seems to represent a musicalization of conflicting thoughts and feelings reminiscent of the song’s theme. “Jesse” is about a protagonist who runs to a significant other’s friend to hopefully learn the mysteries behind their behavior. Of course, in the process the protagonist learns more about themselves and basically nothing about their perplexing spouse.
Luke Pyenson’s drumming also deserves snaps for how present and rhythmic he makes the track feel. On previous Frankie Cosmos cuts, the drums were led by the vocalizations and other instrumentations. “Jesse” finds the percussion more in-step with the instrumentation, thus providing the percussion a greater role. At about the 1 minute, 18 second mark Pyenson unleashes a sort of unbalanced mini-barrage of percussion just as the fervor of the track is ratcheting up.
“Jesse” feels more like a poem and less like an indie track. There is no definable chorus or bridge. There is melody and progression, but the song doesn’t safely fall back on many repeated lyrics or familiar constructs to pad its trajectory. This is a remarkable iteration for the band. Their past releases were experimental to a degree, but there was nothing as intricate or advanced as the structure of this song. Perhaps the most inspiring thing about this track is just how nontraditional the structure is while still keeping its theme and context front and center to the listener. Kline’s delivery and backing instrumentation is still able to maintain the audience’s attention even though they are being presented in a new format.
Lexie was a 2017 side project commandeered by front woman Greta Kline. Their 2017 LP Record Time hearkened back to the days of controlled mischief and youthful inhibition. Kline’s performance on the album was more sporadic and extroverted than her refined and sometimes brooding output on Next Thing. It appears she’s completely embraced this more free-spirited and freewheeling vocal style. The vocals on "Jesse" are delivered in a very whimsical, seemingly ADD-inspired manner. Kline still sounds like Kline, but with a smile. Her vocal contribution makes this song feel like it was done by a band, whereas her past performances felt like it was only the Greta Kline show. Undoubtedly the improved abilities of other Frankie Cosmos members also contributes to this feeling and to the soundscape of their work as a unit.
Featured image from Genius
(01/15/18 6:31am)
(12/29/17 10:20pm)
Music reviews were a new endeavor for Byte this year, but it was a great first year to cover. We saw some disappointments from previously loved artists like Arcade Fire and Blondie, to be sure, but we also saw some pleasant comebacks and changeups from the likes of Lorde, Aimee Mann and Paramore. Some of these albums made us smile and others made us cry, but they all left some sort of indelible mark on us, and that’s why they’re the best albums of 2017.
(11/02/17 6:49pm)
by Preston Radtke
Normally a four-year gap between releases is nothing to spill ink over in the music industry. Earlier this year, notable artists like LCD Soundsystem, Feist, and Wolf Parade all put out records after longer terms of absence. But Cults’ musical silence seemed more pronounced and surprising. The band seemed to be ascending toward their climactic peak after their self-titled record and its follow-up Static. Despite the four-year detention, the hope of what Cults could and should be still remained in their loyal following. Offering was expected to be a building block, a step forward, yet another iteration added to the ever-diversifying and specializing machine that is Cults.
Instead though, Offering tends toward the most laggard, undynamic outputs of Cults. The production is mismanaged and inefficient. Overall, the album is a disappointment, a stab to the heart of loyal indie kids itching to realize the next incantation of Follin and Oblivion. Madeline Follin is actually the only bright spot on this sullen document, a fact that in itself necessitates grim thoughts of dismissal and disbandment. The overarching notion is that Follin would be best served to go at it alone, and pursue a solo career to best take advantage of her talents.
To be static would be better than this
“Go Outside”, “Abducted”, and “Always Forever” were all past standouts that found Cults dabbling in diverse, complex song structures. Their first two LP’s had a distinct personality and style while still allowing each song to form an individualized niche for itself. Offering on the other hand features a stunningly bland overlapping song base with only one song that is drastically different from the rest. Having songs that are arranged the same isn’t a bad thing by any means, but that song template that makes up the majority of the record is bland and repetitive itself.
“I Took Your Picture”, the second single off the record, is the poster child for congruity and mass production. The track begins with an oceanic, synth-driven pool of sound, followed by percussion that sounds a bit too far removed from the rest of the song. Then Madeline Follin’s sensual, reverb-soaked voice guides the song through the verses and empty choruses. This template is repeated nine more times. Again, this uniformity would have been easier to swallow if these songs were produced better, and were written with more personality and complexity.
All of the tracks on this record deal with issues of growing older; the oft-moonlighted motif of the aging millennial. None of the lyrics or instrumentation are bold enough or forward enough to form any sort of specific sentiment, resulting in ten tracks that are virtually the same.
That other track,”Right Words”, is Cults’s most bizarre and blatantly radio-friendly release. Unlike the song’s fellow offerings, “Right Words” hits the listener with a Follin-infused vocal section backed by instrumentation that would best be described as noncommittal. The piece wanders and flames out, making the 3:07 time marker seem much longer.
Separate, but unequal
Reverb has previously yielded some of the richest results for Cults. “Go Outside” was a charming, sunny output that was both mystifyingly beautiful and artful in its percussion. The mixers and producers were able to effectively identify songs that needed more reverb or less punctuated drums, resulting in some of the tightest and most unique cuts in the indie rock movement.
Offering however finds a gross misappropriation of reverb and percussive presence. “Good Religion” could very well have been one of the top cuts off of Offering. The vintage demeanor about the song is a never-before-explored region for the duo. Unfortunately, the over-reverberated tone of the song made the vintage and nostalgic sound fall to the background, hence lessening the impact and efficiency of the song. Conversely, “Recovery” needs more reverb. “Recovery” utilizes a piano and synthetic horns throughout the duration, and the little reverb that is enabled give the song a heavenly, whimsical feel. But the tragedy of “Recovery” is how good it could have been. More reverb would have juxtaposed nicely with the morose theme of the track and provided a nice backdrop for Follin’s heartfelt lyrics.
The most unfortunate reality about Offering is just how downtempo, and unready for the dance floor it is. “Walk At Night”, “Abducted” and “Were Before” were scintillating indie gems with the smoothest hint of EDM. These pairings made Cults' music more accessible and certainly more interesting. Offering gives no such escapes to the dance floor, forcing the audience to stay lodged in a foggy glass-filled cube. Truthfully speaking, the lack of rhythm and tempo make the album drag and elongate. Percussives would have provided so much more personality to the nearly textureless album.
Madeline Follin still stands tall
With all of the previously mentioned shortcomings of Offering, what cannot be overlooked is the performance of the lead singer, Madeline Follin. Her voice is a simmering mixture of velvet, innocence, and yes, mischief. Her voice soars higher than the clouds that Cults basked in with some of their more dreamy past outputs. The overall dynamics that Follin demonstrates makes one think that the band is severely holding her back. “With My Eyes Closed” is Follin’s finest work on the album, a cornucopia of high notes and vocal valleys in sporadic succession. Even the inconsistent reverb couldn’t overshadow the abilities of the Manhattan native.
Even the more discrete assignments Follin’s voice takes on are done to noteworthy effectiveness. The title track “Offering” features few moments of vocal dynamics, but Follin’s voice is able to gorgeously blend with the backing instrumentation while still remaining discernible and multi-dimensional. She's able to deliver the emotion and lyrics perfectly while still letting the synths and drums do what they do.
Top track:
“Recovery”
Recommended if you like:
Best Coast - Fade Away
Beach House - Depression Cherry
Sleigh Bells - Treats
Featured image from Consequence of Sound
(10/17/17 10:28pm)
The sophomore LP from Brooklyn-based indie-pop outfit Florist is an awakening for the band, a portrait of what music nerds thought the band should be and a realization of the band’s place in the indie sphere. Their debut output The Birds Outside Sang, released in 2016, is the folksy yin to If Blue Could Be Happiness’s yang. Much more stripped-back and earthy, LP 2 features many of the same lyrical constructs and thematic tropes found on LP 1. If Blue Could Be Happiness is much more complex and mature in its song arrangements however, providing a promising step forward for Florist. Unfortunately, that step forward is completely negated by the track order, making many pundits wonder if this is a traditional album or just a 10-song collection of singles.
(10/16/17 4:00pm)
by Preston Radtke
The sophomore LP from Brooklyn-based indie-pop outfit Florist is an awakening for the band, a portrait of what music nerds thought the band should be and a realization of the band’s place in the indie sphere. Their debut output The Birds Outside Sang, released in 2016, is the folksy yin to If Blue Could Be Happiness’s yang. Much more stripped-back and earthy, LP 2 features many of the same lyrical constructs and thematic tropes found on LP 1. If Blue Could Be Happiness is much more complex and mature in its song arrangements however, providing a promising step forward for Florist. Unfortunately, that step forward is completely negated by the track order, making many pundits wonder if this is a traditional album or just a 10-song collection of singles.
Themes are still heartbreaking
On their 2016 record, Florist created an album of mourning and angst. Emily Sprague, the lead singer and main songwriter for the band, crafted many tracks from the standpoint of a hospital-ridden patient pondering the limitations of her newly adopted state and the sad atrocities that one tends to linger on when they have nothing else to do. That is because Sprague was in fact one of those individuals. During the writing of The Birds Outside Sang Sprague suffered a near-death accident resulting in a broken neck and broken leg. Tracks like “I Was”, “A Hospital + Crucifix Made of Plastic”, and “Cold Lakes Quiet Dreams” found the band delving in to the deepest reaches of gloom, despair and helplessness.
Seemingly healthy and emboldened from a tangible perspective, the four-piece band went about commenting on depression, wanderlust and loss on their second record. Florist talks about depression from several different angles. The initial track “Blue Mountain Road” gives a haunting detail of the paralyzing effect and isolationistic state that depression puts upon someone. The truly unsettling and obviously effective thing about “Blue Mountain Road” is just how instrumentally upbeat it is. Vague listening would make one think that the track is about hope or starting anew. Lyrically however, Sprague drives the concept of the song home with repeated allusions to the dark and looking for a light that never comes. That juxtaposition is a beautiful and relevant manifestation of depression itself. Someone may seem fine and happy on the surface, but once you dig deeper and uncover the shades and layers of misdirection, you will sincerely realize just how brooding they actually are.
“Understanding Light” deals with depression from a more hypothetical view. The song features the protagonist dealing with their terror of having depression. Many allusions and Armageddon-esque scenarios play out in which the protagonist quakes under the possibility of getting depression and how that will impair them.
Perhaps the prettiest and most innocent track on the album, “What I Wanted to Hold”, paints Florist as a child yearning to go back to their home where they are loved and comfortable. The song alludes to the world moving too fast and being too volatile for the band. The guitar and vocal interplay are the most in-tune and synergistic. “Glowing Brightly” paints with the same brush as “What I Wanted To Hold”. This time though, the band seems to have matured, less wary and afraid of the outside world and more mature in their desire to go home. Kind of like a thirty-something who hasn’t visited their family in a few years and is completely okay with that, but they still feel some sort of obligatory duty to do so. “Glowing Brightly” is both an homage to where the band has gone and where the band is from.
The darkest song on the album, “Thank You Light”, is a chilling imagination of the protagonist’s death. Sprague casually describes the protagonist’s much anticipated and envied murder, seemingly impervious to the natural feelings associated with such an occasion. The track’s true color comes out in the realization of waste, and unfulfilled potential by the recently disceased. Sprague’s bullish delivery makes one think that the dead one almost deserves to die due to their wasted ability and empty output.
Florist runs to the woods
Combined with the lyrical content, song structure and Sprague’s voice, many people were caught-off-guard by The Birds Outside Sang’s heavy electronic and synthetic instrumental presence. Everything seemed to point to a more folk-leaning and inspired instrumental orchestration. The band has acknowledged this, that their first LP wasn’t how they expected it to be in this light. Sprague’s accident not only impacted the lyrics, but it necessitated a vacation of the acoustic guitar in most cases due to her broken arm and a sanctuary in the mixing lab.
If Blue Could Be Happiness is what everyone expected, and what many desired from Florist instrumentally. There are no electric guitars, no usage of synthesizers or keyboards, and minimal uses of percussion. The implementation of the acoustic guitar gives the songs a much gentler, more somber tenor, more effectively driving home many of the album’s more morose concepts.
In some instances however, the guitar work is almost too brooding and plodding. “Red Bird”, the final song on the record, leaves the listener hanging and looking for something to grasp. Neither Sprague’s minimalistic vocals nor the snail-like guitar section provide enough texture or volume for the song. This could work if the song's message dealt with confusion or marauding. Unfortunately, Sprague’s vocals are very generic and give little context for the song’s actual meaning. Furthermore, the instrumentals don’t fill in the gaps that Sprague creates, resulting in a severely imperfect, incomplete recording. The slightest bit of percussion or even reverb could have made this song at least a little bit more interesting.
The notable lack of percussion is one of the bigger qualms with the instrumentals on this record. Again, some of the tracks lack a bit of personality and backbone, both things that drums and cymbals would provide. Both “If Blue Could Be Happiness” and “Glowing Brightly” find the band utilizing measured percussives that give the slightest amount of rhythm and tempo, guiding the album out of the treehouse and into the coffee house. These two tracks, probably the best off the album, are much more accessible and easy to understand. On other tracks, the lack of tempo and other instrumentation make it harder for listeners to understand just what the song is about.
Maybe they should hit shuffle again
On an album full of strengths and progression, one major pitfall is the tracklist. Florist left a lot to be desired when they arranged this record. “Blue Mountain Road”, the first song off the record, is a poor, and fatally ineffective opener. The song showcases little of what’s to come later on in the album and the subject matter is immediate in its depth and weight, thrusting too much on to the listener too soon. A more proper opening track would have been “Eyes in the Sun.” The fifth cut from the record, “Eyes in the Sun” is a rare upbeat track featuring the main character’s wish to runaway with a loved one, and them imagining what their life would be like together. The track reveals intricate guitar work and effective vocals reminiscent of later songs on the record.
The penultimate piece “Instrumental 3” is truly perplexing. As the title suggests, “Instrumental 3” is a piece devoid of vocals, a sort of bridge to another section of the album. But as it turns out, that other section is simply the last track. Usually instrumentals and interludes are found in the middle of the record, primarily for blocking off conceptual series of songs from unrelated ones. The placement of “Instrumental” makes absolutely no sense. The preceding track “If Blue Could Be Happiness” is yet another track that deals with loss and decay, and the following track “Red Bird” appears to be cut out of the same mold. A better placement for “Instrumental” would have been between “Glowing Brightly” and “Thank You Light”, since both tracks which deal with opposing emotions. Moreover, both seem to bookend sections of concepts that seem to necessitate a sort of buffer zone for listeners to fully absorb content before, and prepare themselves for what’s to come.
Top tracks:
“Understanding Light”
“Eyes in the Sun”
“Glowing Brightly”
Recommended if you like:
Girlpool - Before the World Was Big
Eskimeaux - O.K.
Mac DeMarco - Salad Days
Featured image from Bandcamp
(09/28/17 2:26pm)
The very prolific Weezer have added yet another page to their ever-widening catalog. The ditty in question, “Beach Boys”, is a cut from their upcoming record Pacific Daydream, due out at the close of next month. Unlike standouts off of The Blue Album or Pinkerton, “Beach Boys” is a cookie-cutter of a song that ascribes itself to just about every pop music trope and cliché out there.
(09/26/17 6:33pm)
by Preston Radtke
The very prolific Weezer have added yet another page to their ever-widening catalog. The ditty in question, “Beach Boys”, is a cut from their upcoming record Pacific Daydream, due out at the close of next month. Unlike standouts off of The Blue Album or Pinkerton, “Beach Boys” is a cookie-cutter of a song that ascribes itself to just about every pop music trope and cliché out there.
Thematically, Rivers Cuomo waxes somewhat poetic on his longing to listen to The Beach Boys, a band that he used to listen to when he was “a West Side kid.” From a sonic perspective, “Beach Boys” operates like an upbeat, sunny experience featuring slightly reverbed vocals, and a nearly offensively catchy chorus. This track is one of the first in the Weezer canon that feels as if it is obviously pandering to an older SUV driving, suburb-dwelling crowd. The predictable vocal map and slightly bouncy percussive section lend themselves magnificently to the pop radio crowd.
Flat-out pop songs aren’t inherently evil though. There are many successful pieces by bands from all sorts of genres that craft effective and unashamed pop ballads. “Beach Boys” seems to almost be a caricature of a pop song. Cuomo’s inflections, the overdubbed drums, and the sophomoric song and vocal structure operate as a sort of skeleton or template for a pop song.
The difference is, with more effective pop ballads, there is some sort of slight or measured differentiation. If it weren’t for Rivers Cuomo’s patented awkward wails, this could just as easily have been a Five for Fighting or Simple Plan release. On previous releases, Weezer infused their tracks with just enough unique iterations to make them stick out in listeners’ minds. This track could definitely have used Weezer’s charming progressions, or their aggressive guitar sections, or even their witty yet nerdy lyrics. But alas no, for “Beach Boys” is an outline of a song that plays on what people should like and how they should feel.
It has been said over and over again, but Weezer would do well to harken back to their success in the mid-1990s. Starting with 2009’s Ratitude, Weezer records have taken a noticeable turn toward Top 40 radio. The lo-fi and emo constructs found on the Blue Album and other early releases seem to have faded from the band’s arsenal. The past is in the past yes, but Pacific Daydream is shaping up to be just like the previous four Weezer LPs. One would hope that perhaps they would go another direction.
Featured image from Billboard
(09/22/17 12:00pm)
This may come as a shock, but 2014’s self-titled debut release by the Canadian jangle-pop outfit Alvvays caused a slight schism in the indie community. Many usually like-minded pundits praised the dreamy production, and lyrically driven hooks, while their comrades bemoaned the record’s cliché themes and rather basic song arrangements. Following this record, the band blitzkrieged the globe with live performances, from playing empty rooms in New Mexico to playing the Saturday afternoon main stage at Lollapalooza 2017. Many listeners anticipated new releases from the janglers, but instead Rankin and company spent their time in vans and onstage.
(09/21/17 3:00pm)
by Preston Radtke
This may come as a shock, but 2014’s self-titled debut release by the Canadian jangle-pop outfit Alvvays caused a slight schism in the indie community. Many usually like-minded pundits praised the dreamy production, and lyrically driven hooks, while their comrades bemoaned the record’s cliché themes and rather basic song arrangements. Following this record, the band blitzkrieged the globe with live performances, from playing empty rooms in New Mexico to playing the Saturday afternoon main stage at Lollapalooza 2017. Many listeners anticipated new releases from the janglers, but instead Rankin and company spent their time in vans and onstage.
Now, some of the songs they've been playing live for the past years (such as "Not My Baby" and "Hey") finally have a home on a studio album. Antisocialites has much of the same flavor and texture as Alvvays, save for the fact that the album is simply more ambitious and structured. Songs off of their initial release were cute and charming, but also very formulaic and obvious. Alvvays certainly hasn’t become a jangle version of Tom Waits, but the improved song structures and instrumental interplays have certainly propelled the band. Some of the band's previous ghosts still haunt them unfortunately; song themes and dud song inclusions have held this record back from becoming a truly seminal recording.
Despite maturity, they're lyrically still stuck in freshman year
The jangle-pop genre has never pretended to be one that deals with heavy or unique topics. Nonetheless, Alvvays has stagnated in terms of song meaning and context on Antisocialites. Of the record’s ten tracks, six of them deal explicitly with love and longing. Only the very desolate track “Forget About Life” seems to deal with topics that are not tangentially or obviously related to love or relationships at a young age.
On the other hand though, Alvvays writes about these themes in more mature, complex ways. For instance, the track “In Undertow” tells the tale of a lover who has done the protagonist wrong. Certainly an old trope, Alvvays differentiates this track from others via its distorted progression, vocal performances, and vocal arrangement. This track features choruses, yes, as well as simplified lyrics, but it also features a nontraditional climactic conclusion. Furthermore, Rankin’s vocals are truly exquisite on the song; reverb and her already very cerulean vocal texture provide the perfect amount of sunshine and shimmer for the instrumentally sound piece. “In Undertow” is a prime example of tired themes and basic lyrics being overshadowed by vocal and instrumental performances to create a truly outstanding track.
Alvvays bask in the clouds and in the garage
After their first record, Alvvays perfected the jangle pop sound. Their music was very sunny, and light, and overtly happy. This record on the other hand strays in to such foreign genres as garage rock, and even punk rock. The fourth track, “Your Type”, only sounds like Alvvays because of Molly Rankin. The verses and choruses are all aggressive and chaotic enough to remind listeners of underground punk, not twee or jangle pop.
“Lollipop (Ode to Jim)” is probably the most un-Alvvays track of them all. The track opens with what sounds almost like an intro to an industrial or noise record. Then the drums jump in with an amount of aggression and force never before heard in the Alvvays catalog. The rest of the track plays out much like a garage rock piece with its strained vocals, vague lyrics, and slightly sporadic tempos.
The album also features little moments of experimentation. Much like the previously mentioned “In Undertow”, “Plimsoll Punks” sound almost quintessentially Alvvays except for when the bridge happens. On this track though, the instrumentation completely jumps off the deep end, sounding almost ambient and electronic in a very haunting way. In both cases, the juxtaposition between the choruses and verses with the bridge and conclusion are extremely jarring.
In the case of “In Undertow”, the juxtaposition helps reinforce the tracks overall narrative of desolation, and presumed rock-bottomness. “Plimsoll Punks” contrastness is a little more head-scratching. The song seems to be focusing on a frustrating, but not damaging communication gap between the protagonist and their friend. But all of a sudden the instrumentation changes and sounds very oceanic and other worldly. What Alvvays is attempting to go for here is unclear. If they were trying to show off their musical abilities in the realm of ambient music they may consider implementing such a stunt on a song that would be more appropriate for such a drastic shift.
Production: the first step on a long journey
Alvvays’ Antisocialites is very volatile from a recording and production standpoint. The reverb on Molly’s vocals are nothing short of stunning. Make sure to sample the closing chorus on “Plimsoll Punks” or the empty broodings on “Dreams Tonite” to absorb the true essence and capabilities of one of Canada’s most talented indie vocalists.
The instrumental layering on this record is an extreme step forward from previous work. “Plimsoll Punks” features an intricate guitar sequence that the old Alvvays would never have attempted. This guitar sequence features layering that lends more depth and color to the piece. Suddenly, this isn’t just another cookie-cutter Alvvays jangle pop piece with a lead guitar, bass, percussion and amateurish thematics. Now, it’s a complex multi-instrumental escape with carefully selected lyrics atop a wall of distorted, artfully arranged guitars that provide a nice bit of grit and somberness.
The main drawbacks in the production deal with slower, more introspective songs. The concluding track “Forget About Life” features Rankin’s vocals front-and-center shining the light on a depressed friend. The instrumentation is very bare, with a distant backing guitar and some slight synth work. Unfortunately, the lack of backing instrumentation makes Rankin’s voice hang and wilt in the atmosphere that the song has created. As the track progresses, the singularity of the vocals make the track seem bland and frankly boring. Alvvays could still have utilized the same instrumental setup on this track while maintaining the theme of the track if they had forgone the reverb. Although the reverb on this track is minimal, the little amount they use makes the track seem impersonal, and it negatively impacts Rankins’ performance. An even more drastic lessening of the reverb would give the track a more intimate and relatable feel.
The recording of “Not My Baby” was the final black eye off of Antisocialites. The track was recorded to intentionally sound rough or poorly produced. The best description of the track’s sound would be for someone to think of a pop song coming out of someone else’s earbuds nearby. The production was so ineffective the instrumentation and vocalizations didn’t truly get the exposure they deserved.
Top tracks:
“Plimsoll Punks”
“In Undertow”
”Lollipop (Ode to Jim)"
“Saved by a Waif”
Other members of the Antisocialites family:
Camera Obscura - Let’s Get Out Of This Country
Beach Fossils - Beach Fossils
Best Coast - Crazy For You
Featured image from Bandcamp
(09/09/17 5:08pm)
It’s hard to say much about LCD Soundsystem that hasn’t already been said. Headed up by producer James Murphy, the band has oft been difficult to pinpoint for even the wittiest, snobbiest journalists. LCD Soundsystem cannot be made the subject of the elitist allusions and ironically cliché lines of text that would be appropriate for any other band, because that would fall right into the criticisms of criticism itself that Murphy wrote about in his past songs. But it’s also because this band represents more than a band; they are also a movement, a scene, an identity, and yes, a return.
