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(09/07/17 4:09pm)
by Preston Radtke
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.
American Dream is possibly the most fitting title for an album so pumped full of regret, loss, and gilded nostalgia. It must be said, American Dream is several leagues away from Sound of Silver, This Is Happening, and even their self-titled record. This album is slower, more calculated. American Dream is a record that must be judged after several listens. The layers and complexities behind this beast are truly remarkable. For the lack of revelrous danceable beats and outlined youth, Murphy more than makes up for it with the amount of mournful personality and vulnerability that he trickles on to the audience. As usual, Murphy has pressed just the right buttons and moved the LCD needle just enough to make something both accessible and deeply artistic.
"You can synthesize, don't it make you feel alive?"
A recurring presence on this record is Murphy’s scattered and sometimes muttered vocals. These elements paired with the drone-like instrumentation give the record an almost robotic, industrial feel. The zenith of this token droneism can be found on the tracks “I Used To” and “Black Screen.” In both instances, Murphy’s backing synths are locked in a controlled, but ominous progression that further enforces the glum themes of both songs.
On previous LCD records the guitar has been used sparingly. This is also the case on the outfit’s fourth release. “Emotional Haircut” is the only track on the record that features some semblance of a driving guitar. The more textured electronic instrumentation allows for more introspection and realism for the record. Instead of the classic electric guitar, bass guitar, and drums, LCD uses perfectly coded synths to drive home the brooding and marauding messages of the album.
Percussively speaking, the record is quite danceable. “Tonite”, the most vintage LCD cut off the record, features an earworm of a beat that pairs perfectly with the song’s overall meaning and aesthetic. In most cases though, Murphy uses percussion to almost act as a sort of heartbeat or constant to remind himself and listeners that time moves on, and that someday we won’t be as fervorous or “cool” as we used to be.
From Goldie to Bowie
James Murphy seems to be fascinated with the idea of aging. “Losing My Edge”, “All My Friends” and “All I Want” are past standouts that delve deeply in the idea of getting older and learning to live with your new inhibitions. American Dream expands on this idea to unforeseen heights.
The most vivid documentation of Murphy’s thoughts on aging can be found on the track “American Dream.” The song tells the story of someone waking up at someone else’s house whom they had had a one night stand with. Unfortunately, as the protagonist is preparing for the “walk of shame” they slowly begin to realize how much older and seemingly disconnected they now are. The one night stand serves as a sort of reminder of what they would do somewhat regularly in their heyday, whereas now it is something both rare and exciting, and depressing and regrettable.
“How Do You Sleep” is the most pointed track of Murphy’s to date. The artfully clunky experience finds Murphy riffing on Tim Goldsworthy, his former friend and cofounder of DFA, the record label that the pair started in the late ‘90s. The exodus of Goldsworthy is a widely known story in the indie sphere; feeling forgotten and disrespected by Murphy, Goldsworthy abruptly left DFA and LCD Soundsystem just at the onset without any sort of goodbye or explanation. In ensuing years, Murphy and other DFA execs have taken Goldsworthy to court for misappropriation of company funds. Aside from the legal-laced lyrics, the track serves as a sort of window into the younger Murphy. At one time, Tim and James were close friends, both highly talented and frustrated musicians trying to carve out a niche in the NYC underground.
“Black Screen” is the most haunting and somber track on the entire record. The consensus is that “Black Screen”, the final track on the record, is a documentation of James Murphy’s relationship with David Bowie. Sound-wise, the track is slow, and bereft of vocals. The scattered vocals deal with Murphy’s nervousness at working with Bowie, his childlike admiration of him, and how he wishes he could have gotten to know him at a deeper level before his passing. It is also important to note that Bowie was one of the main driving forces behind getting Murphy to reunite the band. (The line “you should be uncomfortable” from “Other Voices” is a direct quote from their conversations.)
Other themes of the record deal with the blandness of the mainstream music industry (“Tonite”), depression (“Other Voices”), and the heavy decision of breaking up, and reforming LCD Soundsystem (“Oh Baby”, “Emotional Haircut”).
The magic of Murphy
Despite the name, LCD Soundsystem has often felt like a one-man project. James Murphy’s notorious controlling tendencies, coupled with the fact that in recording he often plays all of the instruments, isn’t something to be scoffed at or taken lightly. The band’s previous releases have shown how prodigious a musician James Murphy actually is. In many cases, he is the primary recorded vocalist, guitarist, drummer, and tuner of all synthesizers. After six years of dormancy, Murphy’s skills have enhanced, and become more specialized.
Murphy wrote these songs to help shine a light on his awkward, yet accessible voice. Knowing his vocal limits, Murphy utilized the perfect amount of vocoder and reverb to help add depth and context to his slightly nontraditional quips. Synthetically, Murphy fell back on krautrock-reminiscent progressions and influences. Tracks like “How Can You Sleep” and “Emotional Haircut” find extremely effective and sneaky progressions purposed through ever-present synths.
Though Nancy and Gavin and the rest of the band aren’t as apparent as on past records, Murphy’s perfectionist zeal and cultured toolbox make this record another classic for the Brooklyn band and further reinforce the unmistakable genius of its frontman.
Top tracks:
“Oh Baby”
“How Can You Sleep”
“American Dream”
“Emotional Haircut”
“Black Screen”
Other members of the American Dream family:
Talking Heads - Fear of Music
Joy Division - Unknown Pleasures
Sofi Tucker - Soft Animals
All images from Pitchfork
(08/30/17 12:00pm)
The release of Brand New’s most recent album was a bittersweet moment. Seemingly out of the blue, the band decided to drop their much anticipated fifth LP last week with very little press. Bitterness came in the form of the band making no bones over the fact that Science Fiction will in fact be the final act for the emo-punk luminaries. However, to make up for that bitterness, the album itself contains enough sweetness to keep dentistry alive and well for centuries to come, until presumably earthlings will have biogenetically programmed teeth that need no cleansing.
(08/29/17 8:22pm)
by Preston Radtke and Ryan Fine
The release of Brand New’s most recent album was a bittersweet moment. Seemingly out of the blue, the band decided to drop their much anticipated fifth LP last week with very little press. Bitterness came in the form of the band making no bones over the fact that Science Fiction will in fact be the final act for the emo-punk luminaries. However, to make up for that bitterness, the album itself contains enough sweetness to keep dentistry alive and well for centuries to come, until presumably earthlings will have biogenetically programmed teeth that need no cleansing.
Brand New have always moved the emo needle. They were a band that lassoed in angsty high school alternatives with “The Quiet Things that No One Ever Knows”, exposed them to darker, more introspective works like Daisy, and spat them out as multi-faceted listeners ready to take on acts such as Sunny Day Real Estate, Wolf Parade and the eternal Radiohead. As expected, Science Fiction is different and progressive in morose and gloomy manners. Science Fiction definitely fits in with the rest the Brand New catalog, but its depth also goes head-to-head with some of the most complex indie-emo records of all time. Mental health, nuclear Armageddon and aging are all topics on which Jesse Lacey and friends pontificate on this new classic.
Lacey preaches patience
The eight years between this album and the band's previous one, 2009's underrated emotional powerhouse Daisy, were apparently full of thoughtful introspection for Jesse Lacey. One of the most obvious evolutions on Science Fiction comes through in its low-key progressions and stripped back sounds. Yes, there are acoustic ballads, but songs like “Lit Me Up” and “Waste” force listeners to hang on Lacey’s every injection.
Though standard Brand New inflections and choruses can be heard on this record, listeners should also look for the record’s unique beauty in its themes and its resilience. Sound-wise, Science Fiction isn’t a record that is immediate in its appeal. Many listens must be undertaken to uncover the album’s true color. Even "137", which possibly features the most dramatic progression on the record, has a lot of hidden layers that reward listeners for giving it multiple listens and close attention.
Compared to many other bands that are heavily circulated in the indie universe, Brand New holds a special place in fans' hearts not only for their quality, but for their longevity. Especially after their first album, the music of Brand New is impressive for just how powerful it remains even after a decade-and-a-half of listening to it. Returning to the limelight after so much time in the shadows, many of the band's early fans are listening to completely different music than they were back then. The band has once again grown with their listeners, asking us to have the same patience when hearing their new music as we did when we were waiting for it.
A thematic whirlwind
Some of the standout albums from Brand New’s two-decade history, including The Devil and God are Raging Inside of Me and Deja Entendu, found the outfit pedaling in almost cliché emo topics, like heartache, going to college, and friend dynamics. Even some of the greatest anthems from their first two albums, like “Jude Law and a Semester Abroad” and “Sic Transit Gloria...Glory Fades” sometimes turn out to simply be clever takes on relatively adolescent topics under the surface.
This record, on the other hand, features the band dealing with heavier issues. The most consistent theme throughout the record is mental health, specifically self-harm, confidence, and forgiveness. Possibly the record’s supreme moment, “Same Logic/Teeth”, is a stirring, haunting chronicle of the effects of self-harm. The song is a slow-progression piece whereupon Lacey waxes poetic on the problems and relevance of self-harm, and how impactful self-harm can be to people’s loved ones.
“137” details a fictional apocalyptic scenario due to nuclear warfare. Cryptic lyrics allude to man’s impatience and brashness. “137” appears to be one of many warnings that Brand New issues on the record. The band even touches on fundamental Christianity on “Desert.” The track presents a harsh criticism of fundamentalists, juxtaposing real-world statements and actions with the Biblical scripture that Lacey does not think this ideology reaches the standards of.
Experience with a youthful twist
Brand New very easily could have sounded old, crusty and washed up with a new record in 2017. True, men in their forties with kids may not have the same pulse of the scene as they once did. Luckily, though, through expert writing, instrumental work, and artful vocalizations, the band comes across as experienced and advisory, rather than trapping themselves in their old sound, forever dooming them to finish their career as caricatures of themselves.
Fortunately, the brand new Brand New is mature, but not too mature. Songs like “Can’t Get It Out” and “Could Never Be Heaven” feature many early Brand New instrumental tropes and deep-rooted allusions to past band glory. Though there is a lot of wisdom shared on Science Fiction that the Brand New of 2001 may not have had, they still have enough faith in their early work to appease those of us who were just delving into the wide world of music when Deja Entendu was released.
An attempt to please the entirety of the diverse Brand New fanbase would have been futile, and it's true that some Your Favorite Weapon listeners will find this far too self-indulgent to hold any merit for them. But instead of widening their scope too far, the band deliberately zoned in instead, spending several painstaking months in the studio and frequently going back to the drawing board. They even scrapped a few previously released singles to make sure that every part of their grand finale would be up to their standards, and they delivered in nearly every possible way. A treat for both old and new fans of the band, Science Fiction is well worth the many listens it may take to fully absorb its brilliance.
Top tracks:
“Same Logic/Teeth”
“Lit Me Up”
“Waste”
“Could Never Be Heaven”
“137”
Also in the Science Fiction family:
Taking Back Sunday - Where You Want To Be
American Football - American Football
Sunny Day Real Estate - Diary
(07/28/17 12:37am)
by Preston Radtke
“Pumped Up Kicks.” It seems that mammoth bubblegum rock release of yesteryear has become a curse that Foster the People is wishing to exorcise. Torches, the band’s initial full-length release in 2011, was dotted with carefree indie numbers with danceable, benevolent beats. The album has sold literally millions of copies and received praise from Paul McCartney and other luminaries in the mainstream rock canon. Then Supermodel happened, a slightly similar package to Torches but with less rhythm and more storytelling. Though the 2014 release didn’t garner as much immediate success, critics were pleased with the implied direction and songwriting of the group.
Which brings us to Sacred Hearts Club. To put it bluntly, Sacred Hearts Club is what happens when you only pay attention to the EDM fans who loved the beats found on Torches and paid no mind to song structure or writing. If you like overdone, corny beats, annoying synths, and amateurish vocals, this record is for you. If you want to hear the same song twelve consecutive times, this record is for you. If you enjoy listening to a blend of well-measured guitar and percussion bars, smooth vocal deliveries and varied yet applicable themes, this record, unfortunately, is not for you.
The apple doesn't even fall from the tree
So here’s how song structures work on Sacred Hearts Club: electronic intro with hip-hop beat, echo-y, repetitive rolling vocals by Mark Foster, and a rising chorus featuring hypnotic electronics and heavily punctuated vocals. Repeat this twice more plus a bridge that’s basically the chorus with alternate instrumentation, and there you have it. Then multiply by 11 to make a full album worth of songs. It would have been nice to see more elaborate and adventurous songs off this record. The band’s first and second albums allowed Foster to carve out a niche and perfect their song archetypes. Longer songs, more complex choruses and expansive verse structures would have been an effective direction for the outfit. But instead they picked one style and beat it to death multiple times to stubbornly unvarying lengths.
Honestly though, the issue isn’t exactly that this style gets done over, and over, and over again; it’s just that the presentation of this style is so poor, and the band isn’t aware enough to try something different. For instance the introductions almost always feature an extremely obnoxious and over-the-top synthetic part (see “Loyal Like Sid and Nancy”) that assaults the ears more than inspires the revelry. It’s so obvious that Foster the People was trying to make a record for the EDM crowd that they committed synth overkill. We get it; you want to be played at a massive club with stretch limos out front. But maybe after the eighth song you could at least add a little in the way of dynamics.
Foster’s vocals are also incredibly predictable. Gone are the days of slight vocal experimentation and frankly, any ounce of vocal life. His vocals on this album are delivered so blandly and disinterestedly as to be a highly unfortunate foil to the dramatic synths.
Is this the new normal?
Forecasting what could come next for Foster the People is an extremely grim affair. The songwriting, delivery, and deficiency of personality paint a solemn picture of what the band may do next. Both Torches and Supermodel had a lot of promise. Standout songs like “Broken Jaw”, “Best Friend”, and yes, “Pumped Up Kicks”, alluded to a band who could become a giant in the indie, dance, and pop genres. Back then they had perfectly toed the line of rhythm and accessibility. Now though, they are one-dimensionally rhythmic with virtually none of the positives from past material.
On the other hand, with some experimentation and refining, Foster the People could reshape themselves in the future. They’re going to need to scale back and more astutely craft beats and rhythms, and vocalizations from Mark Foster will need to be cut down. Some sampling and maybe even guest appearances could also provide more interesting shades for the band. Sadly though, there’s almost nothing that the band could positively build from Sacred Hearts Club.
The meaning: Maybe I'm just not getting it...
Probably the most effective inclusion on this record are song titles. Titles like “Loyal Like Sid and Nancy” and “Static Space Lover” are as evocative as they are alluring. However, these songs and many others off this record lack any sort of personality or story arc. “Loyal Like Sid and Nancy” instrumentally feels like a hard-cutting dance experience with little linking it to the musical Sid and Nancy pairing to which the title almost certainly alludes. “Static Space Lover” seems to be about some acquaintance or daunting relationship. But Foster’s vocals are so vague and elementary that the only other parable we can look to for understanding is the instrumentation, and again, all we have is a hopelessly generic blend of percussion and synthetics. Foster’s lyrics are obviously written more to prop up the instrumentals, but in that light the personality and context of these songs is miserably hard to discern.
Don’t fool yourself; Foster the People has never been a band to stand on any soapbox to deliver political or social commentaries with their music. Nonetheless, previous songs like “Are You What You Want to Be” and “Helena Beat” gave just enough assumed context and personification for listeners to feel a greater connection to the band. Sacred Hearts Club is impersonal and generic. That ever-present rhythm and bass shrouds any semblance of personality or concept for the record.
All images from Genius
(07/21/17 3:46pm)
by Preston Radtke
The recent fad of indie giants releasing new records after moderately long hiatuses has now come to impact Toronto. This time the band in question is Broken Social Scene with the new album Hug of Thunder; the project’s first studio release in seven years. Hug of Thunder is both BSS at their pure essence and the dismaying reality of a departure. Both top-heavy and marauding, overall Hug of Thunder is a mixed bag of mixed bags.
A team effort
A truly remarkable aspect of BSS’s career is just how marvelously they’re able to juggle at times more than ten different musicians on a single album and still maintain cohesiveness and uniformity. Both Forgiveness Rock Record and their self-titled LP feature upwards of a dozen different musicians playing or singing on different tracks while still keeping a consistent aesthetic and sound. Hug of Thunder is much the same. The performances, both vocal and instrumental, blend together to forge a definable album color and highlight strengths of the performers themselves.
On the heels of her own new record, Leslie Feist’s performance on this record is a retro reminder of how one shouldn’t pigeonhole the songstress in to the acoustic-led cabin. “Hug of Thunder” is the Feist showcase on this record, where we see her experimenting with new textures, inflections and backing instrumentation. The resulting sound paints the picture of the resilient nature of Broken Social Scene, and just how dynamic Feist can be.
The ever-present guidance of Kevin Drew, one of the original members of the project, has also not waivered. His writing and song structure is all over this record. “Venity Pail Kids” and “Protest Song” are the most complex creations off this record, and both remind the audience just how prolific Drew is at tapping in to subtle, somber themes and subjects. Nearly two decades on, Drew’s voice still has that token minimalist, no-nonsense flavor he perfected in the early 2000s.
Of course, it wouldn’t be Broken Social Scene without a prominent new member. Ariel Engle, a touring member since pre-hiatus 2010, was brought in as a studio member of the outfit for Hug of Thunder. Engle brings Feist-ian and Haines-ian aesthetics and style to the band, plus some never-before realized grit and street smarts. Be sure to check-out “Skyline” to find Engle at her absolute apex.
The past is past
Broken Social Scene is a rock band. Excluding their first record, Feel Good Lost, all of their records settle comfortably in the left-of-center rock genre. With these previous releases have come escapes to ambient, baroque pop, and electronic genres. The blend of rock and these tangent genres has produced one of the more unique and tasteful catalogues in recent memory. Unfortunately, Hug of Thunder feels almost exclusively like an alternative record. Kevin Drew’s fingerprints are indeed all over this record, but his experience with ambient and electronica seems to have missed it. The majority of songs are blatantly guitar and vocally driven. The amount of layering and textures is either distorted or overshadowed by traditional rock instrumentation. Sadly, the only songs that hint at retro BSS synthetics are the prelude “Sol Luna” and the late cut “Victim Lover.”
The electronic experimentation on landmark albums You Forgot It in People and their self-titled release is the one thing that defines this band. Without that, BSS simply feels like a variety show of different indie singers. Without that experimentation, Broken Social Scene lacks an identity and personality.
Reznor would be proud of this downward spiral...
There is no flowery way to say this: the last five tracks on Hug of Thunder are bland compared to the first seven. Emotionally speaking, songs like “Halfway Home” and “Stay Happy” touch the listener on a very personal, relatable level. While they are both rock songs at their core, the writing and vocal performance on these tracks allow the listener to feel one with the music. “Halfway Home” is the song to cheer you up, and “Stay Happy” is the one to make you think.
Unfortunately, the second half of the record lacks accessibility. Vocals are delivered rather blandly and with a lack of punch. “Towers and Masons” seems to be about some sort of childhood experience or memory, but the delivery is just so lifeless and forgettable that the message doesn’t really land. “Victim Lover”, a song about someone who has been wronged in a relationship, should be one of the most heart-wrenching tracks on the album. But the writing is overly simplistic and generic, and again, the vocals are delivered with no emotion. While there is a lot to love about the early tracks, the instrumentation of the final act isn’t dynamic or cutting-edge enough to carry the momentum through to the end.
Top tracks:
“Halfway Home”
“Protest Song”
“Skyline”
“Stay Happy”
“Hug of Thunder”
Also in the Hug of Thunder family:
The New Pornographers: Mass Romantic
Yo La Tengo: I Can Feel the Heart Beating as One
Wolf Parade: Apologies to the Queen Mary
All images from Spin
(07/13/17 10:00am)
by Preston Radtke
St. Vincent is back! Such was a thrilling sentiment for many an indie and chamber pop junkie on the morning of June 30, 2017. This sweeping euphoria stemmed from “New York”, St. Vincent’s first single off of her upcoming album rumored to be out in late summer or fall. In interviews Annie Clark – the woman behind St. Vincent – promised a rather noticeable style change on the new record, and those changes are starkly apparent on “New York.” It is still very St. Vincent, but there are in fact certain colors present with which Ms. Clark has never before painted.
St. Vincent deserves praise for the content and meaning of this song. True, it is an oft overdone subject—losing a loved one and waxing nostalgic—but few modern pop or indie tracks today feature quite as much emotion as Clark infuses into this track. Strains, inflections, and vocal tempo all mold perfectly to paint the picture of a near Miss Havisham persona. Clark beautifully paints the picture of their former relationship, and what her life will now be. She mentions old haunts in which they used to spook, her desire to change in a more drastic manner to save herself, and she even bemoans the loss of a close somebody who appeared to be the final remnant of a fragmented and separated friend group.
Stylistically though, this track kind of disappoints. Frankly, the delivery and structure work fine, except for the chorus and song length. The song’s build is very vintage St. Vincent, and very well executed. Unfortunately though, the chorus lacks dynamics and screams pop music. This radio-friendly chorus consists of the repeated lines “I have lost a hero, I have lost a friend.” This phrase, draped in hypnotic repetition, is sung so plainly as to almost be boring. The rest of the song is seriously beautiful: Clark’s voice, the piano, the content. But the chorus really drags it down. Clark could have harmonized or inflected a bit differently for each chorus. It’s apparent that the emotion is supposed to carry this song, and in most ways it does, but the heartstrings being pulled can only distract for so long.
The song is also oddly short. At around two-and-a-half minutes it is in fact on the quicker side of St. Vincent’s catalog, but it is also the structure of the song that makes it feel fast. The chorus takes a while to arrive, which results in a track that, bizarre as it is, doesn’t seem to have any sort of resolution or climax. There is no bridge, no grandiose progression, none of the classic climactic indicators. The song just kind of ends rather suddenly. Maybe to symbolize how suddenly this relationship ended?
The lyrics off “New York” are surprisingly predictable and cliché for someone of Clark’s creativity. Referring back to the chorus, the line “I have lost a hero, I have lost a friend” is one of the most predictable and obvious lyrical inclusions possible for a chorus. Unfortunately the lyrical subtlety and wit found on standout albums like Actor and St. Vincent don’t seem to be present on “New York.”
All images from Genius
(06/30/17 5:54pm)
by Preston Radtke
Hype is an interesting thing in the independent music world. Local grassroots hype for an underground band usually takes such forms as friends boisterously proclaiming this band to be the next Strokes or My Morning Jacket or Yeah Yeah Yeahs. So often in the indie music world does the hype nearly ruin a band's work before it is even released, the idea of what they might become overtaking the fact that, as of yet, they only have an EP and a collection of well-placed shows.
The newest attendee to the indie hype parade is the Brooklyn-based garage/dream pop/punk squadron known as Cende. Cende is the perfect natural creation of an indie band: they’re from Brooklyn; they all live in the same house; they’re currently opening for Japanese Breakfast and (Sandy) Alex G; and they even roped in indie favorite Greta Kline to feature on one of their lead singles. Despite the hype and the band’s near-cliché composition #1 Hit Single, the band’s maiden full-length release is a quick yet satisfactory record nearly as obvious as their Brooklyn upbringing. At only 22 minutes, Cende packs elements of garage rock, punk rock, and even facets of dream pop to a saga of sound that on its own may seem un-noteworthy, but in context provides an exciting glimpse into what Cende can become.
Songs: Closing the garage door and staring at Converse
#1 Hit Single is varied and diverse in such a specific way that it feels as if the album is more a display of how many different genres Cende can spill into without coming across as disrespectful or unlistenable. Tracks like “Voids”, “Erase the Line”, and “While I’m Alive” are all classic-sounding, guitar-driven garage rock with just the right amount of weathered effects. Though these tracks sound amateurish and slightly sophomoric, the lyrical content is not. All three of the tracks deal with relationships in New York City and how to survive socially in such a metropolis. Meanwhile, “Out of City” and “Don’t Want To” are fast-paced, Descendents-esque punk rock sprints that feature aggressive guitar loops, slightly cacophonous choruses, and punctuated drum sections. These two tracks were more along the lines of what many people thought Cende would be like, and maybe they will go in this direction in the future. But for now, they only give us two fleeting glimpses to their punk side.
The most bizarre and surprising submission by Cende were the tracks “Bed” and “Moment Too Late.” Still holding on to garage and indie constructs, the works are surprisingly dreamy and effect-filled. Furthermore, the guitars seem to blend together, making it very difficult to distinguish bass from lead. It’s not too much of a stretch to say that both tracks actually smell of shoegaze. This is a very ambitious attempt; the shoegaze genre has been rather bereft of new artists lately, and quite honestly these two tracks seemed more like experiments rather than indicators. Nonetheless, Cende deserves credit for attempting a genre in which would have expected them to dip their toes. If they do want to pursue shoegaze, the songwriting and vocal performance by Cameron Wisch is going to have to improve significantly. The vocals are too rough and punctuated for traditional shoegaze despite the noticeable scale back compared to their other songs. Furthermore, the drums are still too present, at times overshadowing the guitars and giving the piece too much punch.
“What I Want” is a near perfect summation of Cende’s work on this album. Featuring Greta Kline of Frankie Cosmos, the track is nearly 5 minutes, by far the longest song on the album. Both Cende and Kline put out beautiful harmonies and vocal interplays that give the song an almost heavenly sound. The beginning of the track sounds very indie pop with both singers taking turns on the first and second verses. From the bridge to the final chorus, the song wanders and actually features elements of noise rock and industrial rock, which is a perfect foil to the more linear sound in the beginning of the song. Both vocalists make a return at the end, this time singing in perfect tandem to guide the track to its conclusion via the same harmony and chorus from the beginning.
Room for structural improvement
At only 8 songs, the album doesn’t have much room for error regarding song layout. However, Cende really self-concussed themselves by placing the shoegazey “Bed” as the first song on the album. Along with a less-than-stellar instrumental open, the song lacks the energy and attitude that the album on the whole seems to promote. It’s too dreary and misplaced at the beginning of the album; the song would have been better placed later on, between the slightly contrasted “Erase the Line” and “While I’m Alive.” The perfect opener on the album would have been “What I Want”. The song’s tempo, aesthetic, and diverse journey lend itself more to an all-encompassing opener.
Meanwhile “Out of City”, the fourth track on the album, is placed horribly awkwardly after “What I Want” and before “Moment Too Late.” At 53 seconds, the song feels like both a bridge and an intermission between two heavy and different songs. However, the fourth song seems too early to have a track that brings minimal constructs to the table. The song would have operated better if it was closer to the end, or quite frankly if it wasn’t there at all, as it really adds the least of all of this album’s tracks.
The future is bright in Brooklyn
The blending of several genres beneath an indie rock cap yields an exciting future for Cende. The guitar work found on many of the album’s tracks makes one think that they are ready to produce Strokes-esque guitar ballads, while the harmonies specifically found on “What I Want” could find the band even crossing over into mainstream rock. Though the shoegaze element was a nice surprise, that isn’t necessarily a direction that the band should follow too religiously. Not that they wouldn’t find success in it, but they are already so prepared and polished in the indie vocation.
Unfortunately, this album is so short that the audience still needs to see more to truly ascribe definite feelings toward the band. On the bright side though, more music seems to be an imminent possibility considering the band’s recent aggressive track record of releases. Additionally, their touring with (Sandy) Alex G may allow them to get more experience and even borrow some of his folk influences.
Top tracks:
“What I Want (featuring Greta Kline)"
“Don’t Want To”
“Erase the Line”
Also in the #1 Hit Single family:
DIIV: Oshin
Preoccupations: Viet Cong
Teen Suicide: Bad Vibes Forever
All images from Bandcamp
(06/16/17 5:03pm)
by Preston Radtke
WARNING: This review quotes lyrics from the album that contain strong language.
Roger Waters. A name synonymous with hallucinogenic drugs, tyrannical self-absorbed dad rock aficionados, and “concept albums.” The one-time commander of the Pink Floyd mothership at the peak of its majesty, Waters has been putting out solo records since the much-ballyhooed year of 1984. Is This the Life We Really Want?, Waters’ fifth solo release, finds him hiding in classic Floyd atmospherics and supposed depth. Unfortunately, Waters’ Floydian incarnations are so blatant and over-the-top that sadly, the album acts as more of a cliché of a former time. Furthermore, Waters’ voice shows the wear and tear of a beaten-down spaceship, weathered in a sad, nostalgic, yet massively ineffective way. The true saving grace on this collection is Waters’ very applicable lyrics and writing. A record that was written over several years, it does a superb job of capturing the ethos of many a bewildered and indignant world citizen.
A bizarre barrage
Predictably, Waters tried to make his most recent release sound like folk Pink Floyd. Is This the Life We Really Want? contains many of the same spacious, marauding choruses and sample-driven motifs that Waters’ most famous progressive rock band perfected. Unfortunately, the record instrumentally operates like a folk album. There are many piano and acoustic-guitar-driven songs that don’t necessarily mesh well with sampling and heavy effects. At times, the extreme sampling overshadows and takes over Waters’ wilting voice.
Exhibit A is “The Last Refugee”, a slow, melodic folk ballad bemoaning the political treatment of refugees. The beauty of this song results mainly from Waters’ smooth, intricate songwriting and his stripped-back guitar. It is mournfully besmirched, however, with the sneakily obnoxious inclusions of sound cuts and effects of newscasts and radio signals. These implementations do in fact give the song a more international feel, but they also distract from Waters’ vocals and his message overall. Furthermore, the song seems to go about dealing with refugee issues in the wrong manner. Instead of prophesizing on one specific refugee, Waters takes a broader and less relatable approach to painting the picture of “the last refugee.” His character seems to change appearance, style, and upbringing. Presumably, Waters did this to better represent the diversity of the refugee population; instead, the song seems impersonal and faceless.
The dark side of Roger Waters’ voice
It may seem unfair to rip apart a 73-year-old’s voice. A man like Roger Waters surely should be exempt of all vocal ridicule. After all, how can the voice behind Wish You Were Here and The Wall be anything but foreboding and impenetrable? This album, however, features a voice so weathered, shaky, and one-dimensional that no number of effects and implied nostalgia can save it. Truthfully, whenever Waters climbs the vocal ladder, flinches are to be expected.
“Déjà Vu”, though impassioned and relatable, is the saddest display for Waters’ vocal instrument. Throughout the majority of the piece, Waters maintains a low, controlled volume that hides and even promotes its shakiness. Interspersed throughout the song, he attempts to hit the high notes in moments of passionate rage and fervor. These moments provide a severely unstable, horribly wraithlike specter of a once proud voice both dynamic and consistent.
Later tracks off the album also reveal Waters’ unfortunate penchant for singing loudly and high-pitched. Instead of artful, they sound uncontrollable and sloppy. Waters is surely a good enough songwriter to write emboldened pieces without stretching his voice beyond listenability.
Finally, Waters breaks through
The most present and consistent Floydian holdover is the songwriting and themes. Themes on the album deal with media bias, refugee crises, voting rights, and oddly enough, electing leaders that in his mind aren’t deserving or experienced. When he isn’t climbing the vocal ladder, Waters’ songs feature an iambic pentameter-esque rhythm, more reminiscent of poetry and less of folk and prog-rock. Much like previous conquests, Waters vividly paints raw pictures for the audience. “Picture This”, a rough protest track, forces the audience to “Picture Loretto / Picture your feet nailed to the floor / Picture a leader with no fucking brain”, all delivered with a voice so deep and tough that no ear dare turn away.
Top tracks:
“Picture That”
“Smell the Roses”
Also in the Is This the Life We Really Want? Family:
Pink Floyd: The Wall
Emerson, Lake & Palmer: Emerson, Lake & Palmer
Syd Barrett: The Madcap Laughs
All images from Classics Du Jour
(06/16/17 5:03pm)
by Preston Radtke
Something clever should be written here. A quip, a call to action, or maybe a simple statement? Alas no, for there are no words. The perfect balance of syntax, diction and deprecation couldn’t even come within miles of scratching the surface of how unflinchingly beautiful Capacity by Big Thief is. Though the pundits will try, no one can fairly put in to words just how hauntingly sunny the chorus of “Haley” makes one feel, or how nostalgic one gets at hearing “Mythological Beauty”, or at last, just how pure, raw, and moving “Mary” is. Unfortunately though, this is a review, so with apologies to the Queen Adrienne, words must be spilled.
After their critically-acclaimed 2016 album Masterpiece, many people within the music industry expected a would-be honeymoon period for the Brooklyn-based package. Furthermore, when it did come out, their follow-up would surely be pulled from the same stylistic tree as their initial album. Capacity, however, is plodding where Masterpiece is scampering, brooding while Masterpiece celebrates, and stripped-back where Masterpiece is melodically majestic. Much more folk-inspired, Capacity evokes emotions never explored on Masterpiece. The work is truly a modern marvel.
Big Thief matures yet again
Big Thief is everyone’s favorite 4.0 overachiever. Heart-stoppingly mature after their initial release, Capacity found the outfit reaching Jeanie Bueller-implied maturity (minus the snobbishness, self-consciousness, and overall unpleasantness). Masterpiece dealt with topics more tangible and accessible to the everyday world: parties, work, siblings, etc. Capacity is a manifesto touching on unsexual love, family relationships, and the fragility of love with age and time.
Fortunately, the vocal and instrumental performances are so passionate and raw that these heavy topics don’t feel short-changed or used. “Shark Smile” is a Western-inspired chronicle of a forsaken friendship gone awry by neglect and an implied addiction or affliction. “Mary” is the most mournful and tear-jerking track on the album: an expansive document detailing the protagonist’s simple, unwavering love for someone despite the noise and turmoil of the outside world. Instrumentally, the song features a piano and some effects. Adrianne’s voice on the track takes on a small and beaten-down texture that matches perfectly with the song’s overall aesthetic. The writing and song structure is both beautiful and unconventional. “Mary” appears to slowly be leading to a traditional memorable and concise chorus with plenty-a-high-note. Instead, where the chorus should be Lenker hits the audience with a surprisingly ferocious barrage of sincere lyrics nearly tumbling over themselves. Though measured and befitting of the track, this chorus is a perfect manifestation of the protagonist’s amorous feelings spilling out of her overwhelmed person and into the world.
Big Thief offends no one
Stripped-back though it may be, Big Thief applied certain musical allusions and practices often utilized by other more notable musicians. For instance, “Shark Smile” has an almost country sound to it without poking fun at the genre or negating Big thief’s strengths. “Coma” instrumentally, vocally, and atmospherically sounds very similar to acoustic Feist. The track features a simple, present guitar loop popularized off of many of Feist’s post-“1234” releases. Furthermore, Lenker’s voice has the same texture and inflection as the intrepid Leslie Feist. Feist-ian in nature, “Coma” stills feels authentically Big Thief-ian in its simple progression and song concept. Feist shouldn’t feel ripped-off, as Adrianne Lenker makes sure to separate herself with just the right individual vocal octave climbing and quintessential Big Thief hooks.
The most surprising homage is found in the drum section in the very beginning of “Mythological Beauty.” The drum intro, one of the very few on the record, is measured and melodic in a way reminiscent of “Is This It” by the Strokes off of their own near-perfect release. The drum part feels imperfect enough to either be a loose allusion or an accidental writing effect, a coincidence brought about by two of the most visionary bands of their eras.
Vocals: Again, no words
Masterpiece was much more vocally linear and traditional than Capacity. Matching the album’s stripped-back mystique, Lenker’s vocals are usually whispered, mumbled, or simply delivered at that oft-overlooked “inside voice” level that your third grade teacher kept harping on about. “Mary”, “Haley”, and “Mythological Beauty” feature impassioned whispers by Lenker, which highlight the mood of the track while still allowing her to show off her understated dynamicism.
Though her voice often remains within a few steps, it isn’t flat or stagnant; she never stays on the same notes for more than two straight lines. This gives the snail-like tracks some semblance of tempo and rhythm. There are, however, some instances where Lenker’s voice shows off some of the spunk from Masterpiece. “Black Diamonds”, the track that had the unfortunate task of following “Mary”, finds Lenker’s voice in a more traditional, rock-infused space. Of course, Lenker shines in cases of higher notes. It’s important to note just how well these tracks were written vocally for Lenker. There are no instances where her voice seems to wilt or flame out. Capacity is one of those albums where a voice truly did all of the writing.
Top tracks:
“Shark Smile”
“Watering”
“Coma”
“Great White Shark”
“Mythological Beauty”
”Haley”
“Mary"
Also in the Capacity family:
Waxahatchee: Ivy Trip
Diet Cig: Swear I’m Good at This
Girlpool: Before the World was Big
All images from Bandcamp
(05/24/17 11:00am)
by Preston Radtke
To speak frankly, the latest release from Los Angeles-based Girlpool is not a bad album. The twenty-nine minute sit-in contains very few critically offensive or disrespectful structures. Instead, Powerplant can best be described as depersonalized, disappointing, and possibly bland. It seems like just last week that Before the World Was Big, their landmark 2015 release was making waves in the indie hemisphere. Sadly though, the duel vocals and Kimya Dawson-esque spunk found on that release don’t seem to have translated to their latest incarnation.
Mood: More angst, less quirk
Powerplant finds Girlpool ditching their previous fun, lighthearted façade for a more moody and emo-leaning temperament. The decreased quirk shattered the odd, yet effective juxtaposed construct found on their previous releases. On their self-titled EP, and on Before the World Was Big, Girlpool harmonized on such topics as women in punk rock, gender equality, and lesbian relationships. All of these heavy subjects were delivered with a mix of upbeat guitar lines, relatively aggressive vocals, and tongue-in-cheek lyrics. For a prime example of this past splendor, please give a listen to “Before the World Was Big” off of the album of the same name.
This album features much more slowed-down tempos, guttural sounding percussives, and vocals that are progressive, yet painfully meticulous in their journey to the vocal climax. Girlpool still attempts to focus on heavy topics however, except their message comes across as predictable and run-of-the-mill. On previous releases, Girlpool would catch listeners off guard with their sunny demeanor juxtaposed with their melodramatic topics. This album is almost too obvious in its attempt to be understood as a deep, meaningful experience. The song “Fast Dust” is the moodiest and dreariest-sounding cut off the entire album. A track seemingly about a troubled lost friend, the song hints at mental health and a lack of identity. Normally, the morose demeanor of this track would fit such forlorn subjects. The problem is, Girlpool still has a very DIY amateur sound about them that sounds odd and confusing when dealing with heavy topics.
Percussion: You don't need drums to have a band
Girlpool decided to add more punch and tempo to their music by installing friend Miles Wintner as their drummer. Odd as it may seem, their music actually had more rhythm on their previous releases when they had no drummer. One of the truly marvelous results from Before the World Was Big was the duo’s ability to create songs with accessible and efficient beats with no one on drums. The tempo was created completely through vocals and guitars. On Powerplant, the drums in fact add context and personality, but they also overshadow and distort the vocal performances of Cleo Tucker and Harmony Tividad. In some cases, the distortion is done on purpose, like on the opening track “123”, but on other songs like “Sleepless” and “Powerplant”, the vocals are nearly impossible to discern and interpret. Simply put, Tucker and Tividad’s voices are both too gentle and soloistic to have a drummer backing them.
Vocals: Tucker and Tividad in near-perfect harmony
The vocals on this track are a work of folk, punk and lo-fi excellence. Vocalists Cleo Tucker and Harmony Tividad sing beautifully in-tune with each other to form the album’s moods and personality. Cleo and Harmony cling to each other, never singing without the other. They are always singing the same notes, usually at the same pitch. The result is a more serious and high pitched Kimya Dawson. “123” is the duo’s vocal zenith, a track where Cleo and Harmony match each other’s pitch while navigating the vocal gauntlet; from whispers to screams. Speaking of those whispers and screams, the whispers are much more plentiful on this record. The pair’s whispered vocals, like on “Your Heart”, are beautiful occurrences that touch the listeners and allow them to connect with both the music and the pair of vocalists. However, those screams are effective in their own way; in a majestic, angry, and slightly riot grrrl type of way. Again, look to “123.” The screamed vocals provide just the right amount of grit and protest to songs that could come across as too proletariat.
The only issue with the vocals on this album is the lack of solos. Girlpool and Before the World Was Big contained many instances of Cleo and Harmony singing counteractive vocals that nearly made the listener choose sides. In some cases, their dual vocality was as pleasant sounding and as innovative as The Hot Rock by Sleater-Kinney.
Best tracks:
“123”
“Corner Store”
“She Goes By”
Also in the Powerplant family:
Diet Cig: Swear I’m Good At This
Frankie Cosmos: Next Thing
Angel Olsen: My Woman
All images from Bandcamp
(05/18/17 11:15pm)
by Preston Radtke
The impending drizzle that is the next album by The National finally revealed its arrival time on May 11. After two days of teasing, internet allusions, and vagueness the Cincinnati/Brooklyn-based rock band announced their upcoming album Sleep Well Beast, to be released on September 8. Furthermore, they also dropped the first single off the record, “The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness.” The track is a perplexing barrage of themes and instrumentation that harkens back to the outfit’s material off of Alligator and finds Matt Berninger’s voice in a more weathered and raw state. Though the band has stated that material off of the upcoming LP will be more electronic in nature, this song is traditional in its rock instrumentation. A solid enough addition to The National’s catalog, the track is satisfactory in its overarching structure yet disappointing in context.
“The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness” begins with an angelic sounding backing chorus that hints at Gregorian chants before Berninger takes control. Unfortunately, that brief holy mood doesn’t reappear within the song. Once Berninger begins troubadouring, the song takes on a more classic National aesthetic. Not nearly as dreary and brooding as material off of Trouble Will Find Me, the song features more rhythm and a faster pace reminiscent of many standouts off of Alligator. Pronounced and relatively aggressive guitar chords give this song more pace and life than other slow, morose National output. As usual, Bryan Devendorf’s progressive drum orchestrations give the song just enough punch and direction so as to not lose the listener in Berninger’s vocal gloominess.
Berninger’s voice is one of the major pitfalls of “The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness.” The National frontman sounds tired and older on this track. Additionally, his vocal harmonies and expeditions sound awkward and hastily created. Take the falling vocal tone of the repeated phrase “the system only dreams in total darkness.” It sounds as if Berninger is trying to stuff too many lyrics into a small instrumental window. That section of the song, which reappears several times throughout, sounds cramped and makes Berninger sound out-of-touch and vocally clunky.
Other Members of “The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness” Family:
My Morning Jacket: “Evil Urges”
Grizzly Bear: “Dory”
Beirut: “The Penalty”
All images from Dork
(05/15/17 2:00pm)
The latest studio album by famed punk/disco group Blondie stays with you. After dutifully absorbing the 46 minutes of confusion and sheer awkwardness, one would hope that the memory of such an experience would perish from your mind. But alas, it doesn’t. You’ll notice signs of Pollinator for days to come. The thud of a passing train will instead become a mismatched, overly sleek synth section. Conversations with people you thought were deep and intellectual will take on a more simple, and frankly foolish tinge. And most of all, Debbie Harry’s voice will stay with you. She will be the mournful echo to your benevolent existence. Instead of talking with your friends or significant others, your psyche will be blitzkrieged by specter-like repeat of “Does it take you a long time? Does it make you upset?”
(05/12/17 10:46pm)
by Preston Radtke
The latest studio album by famed punk/disco group Blondie stays with you. After dutifully absorbing the 46 minutes of confusion and sheer awkwardness, one would hope that the memory of such an experience would perish from your mind. But alas, it doesn’t. You’ll notice signs of Pollinator for days to come. The thud of a passing train will instead become a mismatched, overly sleek synth section. Conversations with people you thought were deep and intellectual will take on a more simple, and frankly foolish tinge. And most of all, Debbie Harry’s voice will stay with you. She will be the mournful echo to your benevolent existence. Instead of talking with your friends or significant others, your psyche will be blitzkrieged by specter-like repeat of “Does it take you a long time? Does it make you upset?”
“Yes! YES!” you’ll undoubtedly shout, resulting in your friends placing you in the local psychiatric ward.
Pollinator is a bad album. The time of mourning what Blondie once was has passed. Pollinator’s cringey lyrics, cliché rhythms and disgusting vocals have driven out all sentimentality and fondness for the band. Tylenol is heavily advised.
Vocals: From experienced to old
The most offensive qualm with Pollinator is the vocal display by the intrepid Debbie Harry. Once the poster child for the whole punk/disco New York scene, Harry’s voice has gone the way of Atlantis. Her voice is no longer soothing, sensual and smooth; now, it’s no short of rough, decrepit and mispurposed. Songs like “Fun”, “My Monster”, and “Already Naked” are depressing exemplifications of just how out-of-touch Harry’s vocals are. Throughout this album, and especially on “Fun”, Harry’s vocals take on a playful, pop-infused tenor. Her vocal patterns lend themselves perfectly for anthemic, left-leaning works that both the indie and pop crowds could get behind. The problem is, her voice is just so old and out-of-place that these songs at best sound awkward, and at worst sound flat-out awful.
Harry’s voice is in fact salvageable, but she needs to sing slower tempo and perhaps jazzier songs. “Here’s Looking At You” off of 1980’s Autoamerican is an effective blueprint of how Harry should vocalize with her accelerated age. Never one to live in the high notes, the small vocal climbs that Harry does adventure in result in ear-achingly awkward and ineffective messes that leave the listener in a state of annoyance and sympathy toward the once-renowned vocalist. The only slight shining moment for Harry on this album is found in “Long Time”, the second released single. The track features a “Heart of Glass”-sounding vocal refrain in the build-up to the chorus that Blondie handles passingly well. Unfortunately though, that refrain is so obviously close to, and copied from “Heart of Glass” that the listener’s judgment is clouded by nostalgia from the blondest age of Blondie. On it’s own though, her refrain is average at best. Sadly, that was the highlight of Debbie Harry’s performance off Pollinator.
Writing: “Call Me” when you can write better lyrics
Blondie’s lyrics were never meant to - and should never - be taken too seriously. The punk band basked in the glory of creating a feeling and atmosphere with their lyrics, not starting a revolution or providing epiphanies. That in mind though, Pollinator’s lyrics are particularly cringe-inducing. “Doom or Destiny” finds Blondie purging the lyrical biosphere in the region of clear objects as metaphors: “Clear as a crystal ball”, “clear as a diamond”, “clear as a pane of glass”, etc. The obvious classic Blondie reference aside, the album is riddled with overdone motifs and thematic lyrical constructs that a band going on four decades of musicianship should avoid.
Additionally, the writing reveals too many obvious, corny rhymes and patterns for anyone’s good. The zenith of Blondie’s dismal rhyming and patterning is found in the overly cutesy and radio-begging song “Fun”, where Harry very bizarrely delivers the line “You know the problem with you”, followed with the answer “You’re too good to be true.” Instances like these and the previously mentioned lyrical clichés just make it all the more apparent that Pollinator is an album begging to be played on the local adult contemporary stations; one of those stations with blatantly fake and cheery morning shows, and the same stations that start playing Christmas music the second November 1 comes around.
It should be noted though; Debbie Harry, Chris Stein and Clem Burke are not the only people to blame for Pollinator’s painful writing. The eleventh Blondie album found input from at least ten other artists and composers. From guest vocals to guest writing, the album featured a veritable who’s-who of rock and pop heavyweights. So, with that, the lyrical blame spotlight must also be shone on Sia, Dev Hynes, and Charli XCX, three musicians who, again, should have known better.
Feeling: This album needs a Harry-cut
As bad as this album is, it legitimately could be an okay experience without Debbie Harry. She is in fact the only thing holding Pollinator back from being an effective dance floor record with pop and punk influences. Ignoring Harry’s voice (as truly gut-wrenching as that is to do), songs such as “Doom or Destiny”, “Long Time” and “My Monster” all feature dreamy, alluring synthetics that create an accessible, dance-ready experience with whispers of mystery and screeches of revelry. “Love Level” has the most advanced and effective instrumental work on the album. The song kicks off with a simple, yet heavy and mood-setting drum intro by Burke. Once the guitars and Harry enter the fold, they are backed by a synthetic horn section that provides texture and direction for the song.
The album features minimal nods and allusions throughout to past Blondie successes. The horns on “Love Level” sound oddly similar to “The Tide is High”, perhaps the most popular and controversial Blondie song of them all. If Harry was the devil on Pollinator, Clem Burke was God. His drumming was efficient and tempo-setting. As on most albums, the drummer blends in to the sound of the music, not sticking out in any major fashion. Burke, however, is the main catalyst for the song’s aesthetic and mood, his drum orchestrations providing the adequate amount of punch, gentleness, and personality for virtually all of the tracks on the record. Unfortunately though, a drummer can only be so effective. Burke’s work is still massively overshadowed by Harry’s mess.
Top track:
“Love Level”
Also in the Pollinator Family:
The B 52’s: The B 52’s
Bryan Ferry: Boys and Girls
The Human League: Dare
All images from DIY Magazine
(05/12/17 6:00pm)
Ten years after her linear breakthrough, The Reminder, Feist forges a masterpiece that wanders and marauds more than soars and illuminates. Pleasure is an objective and removed analysis of humankind’s more base and animalistic behaviors. It is a work that simultaneously haunts and surprises listeners desiring a more detached, impersonal experience. All the ingredients of Feist’s previous four records are present. However, they are all clouded by an impending storm of introspection and Freudian epiphanies with Feist’s airy voice and measured guitar work providing the choicest type of thunder.
(05/09/17 7:39pm)
by Preston Radtke
Ten years after her linear breakthrough, The Reminder, Feist forges a masterpiece that wanders and marauds more than soars and illuminates. Pleasure is an objective and removed analysis of humankind’s more base and animalistic behaviors. It is a work that simultaneously haunts and surprises listeners desiring a more detached, impersonal experience. All the ingredients of Feist’s previous four records are present. However, they are all clouded by an impending storm of introspection and Freudian epiphanies with Feist’s airy voice and measured guitar work providing the choicest type of thunder.
Quirks: Samples, pullouts, and stripped-back reverbs abound
Despite Feist’s obvious low-fidelity creation, she still utilizes many nontraditional and synthetic inclusions to further construct Pleasure’s demeanor. “Baby Be Simple” is a 6-minute slow ride that touches on the inherent differences between men and women and how these differences clash to forge stereotypes and behaviors not necessarily desired by their partners. The song features a distant synthetic section that further projects Feist’s message in the song via the synths’ moody and slightly creepy manner. Keeping with the rest of the tracks, “Baby Be Simple” features a tantalizingly slow structure, distant yet punctuated vocals, and an airy yet pastoral sound. At around the four-minute mark, however, Feist’s sincere and isolated vocals suddenly get infiltrated by a far-off cross recording of Feist making what almost sounds like ghost-like hummings. As the song progresses, these “ghost-like hummings” get steadily louder until they almost overtake Feist the singer. This specter-like presence makes the song seem more holy and haunted at the same time; it seems as if Feist is hinting at something here. Mortality? Abuse? Divine romance?
The songs “Any Party” and “A Man is Not His Song” feature random sound samples at their conclusion. “Any Party” is the most consistently rough and heavy (relatively speaking) of any of the Pleasure tracks. Furthermore, the song takes on a light, almost benevolent temperament found in few other submissions off the album. The song closes with a cut of what sounds like someone walking down a street at night with cars driving by in the background. Quaint, and possibly joyous up to that point, the track suddenly ends with a car driving by blasting “Pleasure”, the lead single, and possibly the most haunting and Earthy of all the tracks, just to remind the listeners that Feist the Goddess of the Id is still watching. “A Man is Not His Song” features the most random and confusing cut of the entire album. Another vague yet Freudian-leaning track, “A Man is Not His Song” appears to end as most Feist songs do: gently wavering and traipsing off to a comfortable spot in the forest. This time though, the track ends with a surprisingly smooth, sneaky lead-in to “High Road” by Mastodon, an artist that is about as different from Feist as possible.
The Mastodon inclusion almost feels like an expression of Feist’s personality. It seems as if she’s toying with the audience and is enjoying watching their perplexed looks as they pick their jaws off the floor while listening to the hectic and cacophonous beginnings of “High Road.” On the other hand though, the “High Road” incident acts as a sort of inside joke for both Feist and Mastodon diehards. “A Man is Not His Song” is not the first time that Feist and Mastodon have flitted into the other’s music catalog. In 2012 the pair released a Record Store Day single of each covering one of the other’s tracks. The “High Road” incident is a subtle yet effective thank you and acknowledgement to Feist’s fans who had been bemoaning her extensive musical silence the past 6 years. For everyone else it’s one of the most perplexing and abstract Feist implementations to date.
Meaning: Sigmund Feist
Sex, betrayal, love and family turmoil serve as Feist’s punching bags and cuddling pillows off Pleasure. The previously scribed on “Pleasure” is a deep, dark exploration of our sexual, carnal instincts as humans. Feist’s brief yet continual lyrics provide guidance but also allow for self-reflection for the listener. The track features pastoral acoustic guitar solos, incremental vocal hikes, and even several heavy electric guitar inclusions that oddly enough sound like classic rock riffs, not folk pop. “I Wish I Didn’t Miss You” is a traditional mournful breakup song, except this track makes slight allusions to sexual and coarse elements of the singer’s relationship: not strictly the PG elements traditionally bandied about in most longing tracks. “I’m Not Running Away” is a far-out musical drama detailing a tug-of-wills of sorts between the singer and what appears to be a loved one or acquaintance. This track features the most – wait for it – feisty lyrics on the album, as Feist digs deep in to her songwriting supply kit to form sharp, deep critiques of whomever she’s aggressing. The song opens with a dreary, melodic guitar solo that reeks of classic country rather than pop rock.
Instrumentals: Feist plays to her strengths and makes some new ones
Feist aficionados will notice traditional Feistian instrumentation. Simple chord progressions, acoustic guitar solos, and sparing yet efficient drums all help form the backbone of Pleasure’s sound. Feist did experiment with some cross-genre motifs. The track “I’m Not Running Away” features both country and blues-infused guitar work backing traditional Feistian vocals. The album also has flashes of classic rock and even hard rock guitar sections, specifically on “Pleasure” and “Century.” Analyzing Feist’s experimentation is perplexing. On her previous records, Feist’s experimentations may have been as simple as singing with a greater pitch, or song length. Pleasure is in fact the most experimental of her records. That being said, the few instances of genre-experimentation provide a brief but intriguing snapshot of what Feist could be if she pushed even deeper in to these genres. For instance, the blues dabbling she partook in “I’m Not Running Away” made the song seem so much more gritty and blue-collar, traits that have never before described Feist’s work. In context though, Pleasure came out 6 years after 2011’s Metals, an album that featured significantly less experimentation than Pleasure. Perhaps then, Pleasure’s minimal experimentation is merely part of a gradual transition for Feist.
Top Tracks:
“Pleasure”
“Lost Dreams”
“Any Party”
“A Man is Not his Song”
“Baby Be Simple”
“I’m Not Running Away”
Other Members of the Pleasure Family:
Sufjan Stevens: Seven Swans
Andrew Bird: the Mysterious Production of Eggs
Kings of Convenience: Riot on an Empty Street
All images from The Line of Best Fit
(04/29/17 8:00am)
By Preston Radtke
In recent decades, Brooklyn has been a notable musical-chairs setting for indie music. This time, it has found dream/garage outfit Cende paired with the musically gregarious Greta Kline for their latest single, “What I Want.” For Cende and Kline, the track is a slight, yet outlier-ish escape for both parties.
“What I Want” is a musical middle ground for both Kline and Cende. Kline coming off of her critically acclaimed 2016 release Next Thing with Frankie Cosmos, has fully implanted herself in the lo-fi, amateuristic section of indie rock. However, Cende had begun to make a name for their dream/garage rock fusion as evidenced on their self-titled EP. “What I Want” however is a more guitar-driven experience new for Kline, but still melodic and lyrical in a very Next Thing sort of way. Cende steers clear of yelled lyrics and cacophonous guitars/drums reminiscent of their first EP. Cende lead singer Cameron Wisch abandons his volatile vocality for a more measured and linear aesthetic, soaring through puffy clouds at some points and sloshing through dingy dark alleyways at others. Kline’s vocals are more congruent with previous work, save the fact that her voice sounds a tad bit more weathered and rough on this track. Next Thing’s gentle delivery and lo-fi thematics allowed Kline to settle her voice in a more comfortable and personable level, whereas “What I Want” features more rhythm and prominent guitar chords that force Kline to sing louder and more pronounced.
A new phenomenon for both, “What I Want” features a very present and effective string section. On the second verse when Kline comes in, a backing violin section guides the song through the peaks and valleys to come. Both Cende and Kline with Frankie Cosmos had never featured anything but guitars, keyboards, and drums in their instrumental sections. The violins added texture and emotion to “What I Want”, which is a breakup song at its core, focusing heavily on internal, unspoken desires of both of the supposed partners.
Other Members of the “What I Want” Family:
Teen Suicide: “Bad News”
Sorority Noise: “No Halo”
Turnover: “Sasha”
All Images From: Paste Magazine
(04/21/17 11:00am)
by Preston Radtke
House devotees got quite the shock when Darren Cunningham, AKA Actress orbited out of retirement to produce AZD, a back-to-basics record for the UK-based composer. Much less apocalyptic and heavy than 2014’s Ghettoville, the record finds Actress focusing on rhythms and moods previously realized on 2010’s Splazsh and 2008’s Hazyville. Actress merges elements of R&B, electronica, and outsider house to form a sound reminiscent of such giants as Aphex Twin and Oneohtrix Point Never.
Album Structure: Shuffle is Advised
Actress has long mastered the art of the album layout. On many of his previous releases, the handoff from song-to-song was unnoticeable and natural. However, AZD features many awkward and clunky transitions. Additionally, many tracks on the record when repositioned would transition smoother and more efficiently. For instance, the song “FANTASYNTH” is a classic sounding dance-ready piece featuring house and some disco elements. Unfortunately, the song ends rather abruptly without any sort of musical resolution or natural regression. As abrupt as the song’s conclusion is, that conclusion could have been made more effective by a proceeding piece featuring similar beats and rhythms. Instead, the following track, “BLUE WINDOW”, is a slow-rising, Orb-esque ambient piece that rather exposes “BLUE WINDOW”’s relative aggression and converse aesthetic. These mismatched moods and awkward transitions do not allow the record to acquire any sort of overarching theme or sentiment. AZD instead feels like a fractured collection of 12 singles compiled from previous Actress releases.
Meaning: A Change of Style with Blemishes
On Ghettoville, Actress projected a more grim and Armageddon-esque sound that completely shattered previous Actress constructs and traditions. Gone were the days of edgy dance floor experiences, replaced with moody synth-driven textures that promoted contemplation instead of jubilation. Though a welcome and obvious throwback, AZD still carries certain Ghettoville elements that intermingle with classic Actress textures. In many cases though, the moody synthetics do not mix well with the uptempo house beats. In many cases, it seems as if the songs themselves are fighting each other. “THERE’S AN ANGEL IN THE SHOWER” is perhaps the most perplexing track on AZD. The song begins with downtempo ambient synthetics that promote a sense of despair and emptiness. Further into the song though, a steady house beat appears that doesn’t match the tenor and mood set earlier in the song. The result is a disjointed and awkward piece that lacks direction and purpose.
Samples: WE WANT MORE!!!
Actress historically has been rather conservative with inclusions of audio samples and media clips. Traditionally, Actress has relied more on synthetics and textures with less emphasis on sound bytes and audio cuts to forge his message. AZD differs because it’s the first time in Cunningham’s career that the samples were truly effective and artfully engrained in the pieces. “CYN” is the most complete and well-mixed song off the album. The song opens with an apparent DJ calling out to his audience, followed by a steady yet dynamic house beat. Additionally, the piece includes hypnotic and trippy synths that only shove the listener deeper and deeper into the song. Throughout “CYN” the DJ’s opening refrain gets repeated sporadically, adding incrementally more energy and punch to the dance piece. Conversely, the song “X22RME” operates as a slower version of “CYN”, with a hint of noir. However, at about the 4-minute mark the song cuts to a young British male translating the words of a woman speaking in the background in what sounds like Japanese or Korean. His translations are eerie, yet applicable to the song and album at hand: “Just makes me wonder. Everything. Everything has different meanings. It has one state of meaning, but can be determined in so many different ways.” From that moment on, the song feels more mysterious and significantly more haunting. Sadly enough, that is the extent of samples on AZD. More samples would have made the album more accessible and infinitely more understandable for the listeners. Often times, electronic music relies heavily on individual listener interpretation for meaning assignment. Nonetheless, from a sound and context standpoint, AZD would have greatly benefitted from more sampling.
Top Tracks:
“CYN”
“UNTITLED 7”
“BLUE WINDOW”
”RUNNER”
Other Members of the AZD Family:
Arca: Arca
Tim Hecker: Love Streams
Blanck Mass: World Eater
All images from NinjaTune
(04/17/17 4:13pm)
by Preston Radtke
After the unparalleled success of 2014’s Brill Bruisers and the ominous silence that followed, few people expected to hear much from Canadian supergroup New Pornographers in 2017. Six albums in, three years seemed like the midpoint of a prolonged gap between releases. However, on January 26, to universal surprise, the New Pornographers announced the release of their seventh project, Whiteout Conditions. Whiteout Conditions finds the band sticking to their youth-centered indie pop rock, splashed with synths and baroque pop-inspired piano sections. The record however is noticeably less quirky and free-spirited than previous New Pornographers material. Furthermore, the group delves deeper into the usage of synthetics and nontraditional harmonies.
Vocals: The New Pornographers and Neko
Twenty years in and the prominence of Neko Case in the band is still slightly perplexing. Neko Case has garnered much acclaim and accolades in her solo career, which has been . A solo career built singularly on dreamy to moody folk rock. Her solo vocal performances feature much more intimate and gentle vocals. Of course, her performance with the New Pornographers is anything but. Her vocals have allowed the New Pornographers to execute crafting accessible, dance-ready, long-range indie pop anthems that have become favorites of fans of all ages. Whiteout Conditions is no different: “This Is the World of the Theater” and the lead single “High Ticket Attractions” find Case at her vocal peak, both navigating the pieces through high vocal skies and serving as the more high-pitched echo of co-vocalist A.C. Newman. “Colosseums” is one of the rare instances in the band’s history where Case’s solo work blatantly overlaps with her band work. The song features many of the same melodic, inflection-driven motifs that Case utilizes outside of the band. A.C. Newman needs mention here only for the fact that his contributions serve as perfect accompaniment and foreshadowing for Case. Newman’s delivery has changed minimally since the band was founded in 1997; he still very sparingly sings without the backing of Case, and his vocal risks are completely nonexistent. If you were looking for Newman to climb the vocal ladder and add a new element to the band through male-fronted vocal peaking, then Newman unfortunately does not come through. That being said, Newman has never taken any vocal adventures, instead serving as the middle ground and vocal straight man to Neko’s aggression and vocalic acrobatics.
Mood: Fun not always guaranteed
The New Pornographers have formed their aesthetic on quirkiness and inherent kitsch. Songs like “The Laws Have Changed” and “Sing Me Spanish Techno” have allowed the band to emulate a certain universal energy while poking fun at other outfits who try to be deep and “meaningful.” There are certainly elements of spunk and finger pointing on Whiteout Conditions, but the album as a whole takes on a more measured and suburban sound. “Whiteout Conditions” and “Play Money” are works that focus more on meticulous harmonic progressions and drum interplay and less on all-inclusive choruses and vocal juxtapositions. “Play Money” starts out sounding like a cut off of Mass Romantic through use of rhythmic and lyrical progression. The song keeps building and building upon itself, adding more layered drum interplays and vocal repetition. Previous New Pornographers encounters have trained the listener to expect either a loosely controlled, chaotic chorus or a resolutionary climax at the conclusion featuring Newman/Case/Bejar minstrelizations, teamed guitars, and obnoxious percussives. However, “Play Money” never reaches any pronounced chorus or climax; the listener instead keeps waiting, and anticipating. The song is essentially a bridge to nowhere. Though shocking in its style, “Play Money” features some of the most artfully crafted harmonies and melodies found on any New Pornographers release. The song is a perfect balance of energy and experimentation for the band.
Synthetics: The true Electric Version
Brill Bruisers left a deep impression on the band. The 2014 album was the band’s first record that featured prominent synthetics and keyboards. These innovations allowed the group to become more accessible and dynamic. Whiteout Conditions pushes the electric envelope even further. “We’ve Been Here Before”, “Juke”, and “Clockwise” are electronic-leaning explorations of the band’s more experimental constructs. The pieces feature traditional choruses, but they also feature much distortion, reverb, and obvious synthetic constructs. The usage of electronic instrumentation has also allowed the band to utilize elements of baroque pop, and even prog rock.
Note:
Guitarist/vocalist Dan Bejar does not appear on this album, as the writing conflicted with a Destroyer album he was working on. Case stated that though Bejar isn’t on Whiteout Conditions, he will still contribute to future New Pornographers content.
Top Tracks:
“Play Money”
“High Ticket Attractions”
“Second Sleep”
“Clockwise”
Also in the Whiteout Conditions Family:
The Decemberists: The King is Dead
Sloan: Never Hear the End of It
Metric: Fantasies
All images from The Current
(04/14/17 5:59pm)
The highly anticipated and hyped Gorillaz album Humanz gained even more clarity with the release of “Let Me Out”, the fifth single to be released by the UK project since the end of March. As with most Gorillaz songs, “Let Me Out” featured guests both obvious and nontraditional for the genre with hip-hop artist Pusha T, and blues legend Mavis Staples. “Let Me Out” is a masterful conglomeration of three independent and extremely successful musicians that came together to produce Gorillaz most radio-ready song since Plastic Beach’s “Rhinestone Eyes.”
(04/13/17 12:14am)
Aimee Mann’s previous eight releases were a frustrating mirage of beauty. Though certainly effective and noteworthy in their substance, many critics claimed that the singer/songwriter was producing in the shadows of musicians much greater. Musicians like Joanie Mitchell, Chrissie Hynde, and, you know it’s coming, Sarah McLaughlin. Mental Illness, however, is a miraculous result of vintage Mann songwriting, coming-of-age lyrics, and innovative guitars. At 56, Ms. Mann appears to have finally and unequivocally sectioned off her own part in the folk rock scene.