Heartless Bastards, of Cincinnati, Ohio, are a rare breed for modern music. They are, plain and simple, a rock and roll band. The band, led by front woman Erika Wennserstrom, has all the makings of a great rock band. Their fourth release, Arrow, shows just how great they are. Arrow opens with the slow, languid, "marathon." The droning and reverb of this song are the only traces of modern indie rock on the album. From there out, the album goes straight into balls-to-the-wall blues and riffs. The songs of Arrow are still introspective, dealing with love lost and complacency, but the songs do not pine and whine, but drive forward with optimism. The glass is half full throughout the entire album. The optimism is nuanced with the heavy, fuzzed out, guitar. Arrow remains consistent throughout the entire album, tirelessly providing positive energy throughout, climaxing during the final jam of "Down in the Canyon." There may be no surprises in this album, but fans, new and old, will love listening to it.
For over twenty years, Nashville's Lambchop has been one of the most infamous and innovative bands in the now well established alt-country scene. While the band has never received popularity of many of their glossier contemporaries, Lambchop has been revered for the high energy music, cynical lyrics, and brutal honesty. For their latest album, Mr. M, Lambchop slows it down to pay homage to a friend and mentor. Mr. M is dedicated to Vic Chestnutt, a southern singer and songwriter close to the band for throughout their career, who passed away suddenly in 2009 (Widespread Panic fans should know this man well). The band, never opposed to morphing their sound, created an album that gave the man the peaceful, pretty send off he would like. Lambchop refined their sound, making Mr. M the seemless intersection of lounge and dive bar. Frontman Kurt Wagoner still has his drunken elocution (he says 'fuck' in the first line of the album), but is wistful instead of rocking. Exchanging their high energy honky-tonk for delicate strings and textures, the band is taking its time; life reflection has certainly affected Lambshop's sense of urgency. Slow keyboard based ballads once again show that Lambchop always operates by their own definition of the word genre.
Wagoner and Lambchop clearly have not come to terms with their dear friends death, as Mr. M fluctuates emotions throughout the album: sarcasm quickly deepens into guilt, and back up into joyful nostalgia. The ghost of Vic Chestnutt will be haunting the members of this band for a long time to come, but Mr. M is the perfect catharsis, and a beautiful elegy by one of his best proteges.
Athens Georgia has long been a mecca for musical creativity. The college town has created some of the greatest bands of their respected genre, and Of Montreal is no exception. Since the bands inception in 1997, Of Montreal has reinventing and modernizing glam rock. Namely since the bands 2004's breakout album, Satanic Panic in the Attic, the band has repeatedly set the bar for flamboyantly over-the-top pop music. With their release of their 11th album, Paralytic Stalks, Of Montreal continues to explore new realms of music.
Although Paralytic Stalks still incorporates the funky porno synths that has made Of Montreal famous, there is more strategy and arrangement to the songs. The songs are carefully crafted, and more artistically presented. As opposed to its predecessors, which seem to run purely on vocalist Kevin Barnes' sexual frustration, the music of Paralytic Stalks runs like a soundtrack: a musical narrative to the cavalry of emotions that Barnes feels all the time. fans of the band will still enjoy the lively beats, but critical ears will appreciate the intertwining of layered instrumentation that builds and climaxes. The highlight is the bands final song, the 13 minute opus, "Authentic Pyrrhic Remission."
While Of Montreal should be commended for trying something a little new, the album is still flawed by the band's reliance on its failsafe beats and risque lyrics. Barnes is still using the band to come out of his own closet, and to test society's notions on sexuality. Where this was once provocative, it is now schtick. If it was not for the tactful instrumental arrangements, this album would sound like a collection of B-Sides. Perhaps the main cause for Paralytic Stalks, and to a greater extent, the band's stagnation, is their determination to release new music so often. Perhaps Barnes and the boys need to rest on their laurels a bit. Paralytic Stalks shows Of Montreal treading new waters within the same ocean. While they are continuing to push the envelope, they seem to be bogged down by routine. The album shows promise, though, that Of Montreal can operate on more than just pure sex driven id....they are clearly thoughtful musicians.
Frankie Rose has been around the indie rock block. The Brooklyn native has been part of such acclaimed acts as the Dum Dum Girls, Crystal Stilts, and Vivian Girls. Between time spent between her respective bands, Rose is able to work on some solo stuff. For her latest release, Interstellar she dropped her backing band, and created a pretty album showcasing her bare bones talent.
Where many solo albums are just a B-Side offshoot of the artist's original band, Rose clearly desired to her find her own sound. as Interstellar completely sheds her garage rock sound for delicate cerebral textures. There is still some reverb in her songs, but the ambiance of Interstellar floats spaciously. The fuzz is replaced for intricately placed echoes, making Interstellar a collection of romantic soundscapes, reminiscent of the new wave pop of the 80s. She uses the studio well, utilizing horn and chorus effects to layer her sound, but still keeping it soft and expansive. By reinventing herself and trying something new, Frankie has created one of the dreamiest releases of 2012.
Especially in the music industry, a lot can happen in four years, and that is how long San Francisco rockers Howlin' Rain took to complete their album, The Russian Wilds. Between the albums genesis and release, the band underwent almost a complete personnel change, and similar bands within the genre have completely come and gone. For an unestablished outfit, putting this much time in to make a record is beyond daring. The length was only added by infamous producer slash guru, Rick Rubin, being taken on as producer of the album. The Russian Wilds certainly reflects four years of music listening for the members of Howlin' Rain, as the album pinballs from different genres; a bluesy riff rock tune paves way for a psychedelic soundscape, then into jamband noodling. The different sound was exacerbated by Rubin's idea to over record and discard questionable material. While this is certainly a novel way for the band to explore their chops, and to keep the album fresh, the composition of The Russian Wilds comes off a little scattered and unfocused. Once again, this is not necessarily a huge liability for an album, but a more cohesive album, with less sharp and more amoebic changes, could have been created within such a lengthy time frame. Thankfully, the band, as well as Rubin, keep the elements of their shreddy, prog rock, roots, perceptible through each song, many of which are quite extensive.
When The Russian Wilds is taken apart and looked at on a song-by-song basis, the album is an incredible success. Each song is a work of art unto its self, and each genre Howlin' Rain delves into is done with careful mastery and flawless production. Lead vocalist Ethan Miller lends unbelievable 70s era range over the expertly played songs.
When all is said and done, The Russian Wilds is a collection of masterpiece songs gathered together into a pretty good album. The songs are done impeccably, but put together too jaggedly. Howlin' Rain has obviously done great work, but they could have hammered this out over the weekend.
The indie world is cascading with male/female duos creating simple pop LPs. Tennis, a husband and wife pair based out of Denver, share the same aesthetic as the flocks of other indie acts, but has been known to add a carefree, less gloomy sound to liven up their listeners. In February, they released their awaited sophomore album, Young and Old.
It is ironic that this album was released on Valentines Day, as this album's contents is significantly heavier than their debut, which dealt with themes such as bird watching on the high sees. On Young and Old, the couple grow up, and discuss some of the typical issues that married couple deal with; things such as finding flaws in your once perfect lover, and youthful adventures slowly replacing mundane routine. This is not necessarily a bad thing, however, as the lyrics are not complaining about their life, merely citing the state of their relationship. They are still happy together, just a little older, and not as exciting. This inevitable circumstance will certainly resonate with Tennis' older, more mature fanbase.
Musically, Young and Old is a little heavier as well. The sprightly pop is still their, so fans of their debut will not be shocked, but their is certainly more maturity and brawn to their bubblegum base. Young and Old was produced by now revered Black Keys drummer, Patrick Carney, and his influence is clearly heard throughout the album. Under Carney's ear, their are many more elements of traditional rock and roll, as the album has instances of jangly keys and guitar riffs. The beach pop skeleton is certainly there, but it is underneath a thin skin of rock fuzz.
Tennis has the makings for indie stardom, and this album has the potential to lead to even more critical acclaim. The Denver duo have shown that they are not afraid to grow up and tackle benign, but pensive subjects. They are also not afraid to tweak their successful sound for experimentation. Through their increasing maturity and dare, Tennis is showing that great indie pop does exist in the mountains.
Since 2002, Dr. Dog has been releasing consistently good albums of jangly multi-genre Americana. With the release of 2012's Be the Void, continues on the same path.
For their latest album, Philadelphia's own Dr. Dog continues its trademark of taking all their influences and mixing them together into catchy, relatively concise songs. The result is a sound that is indescribable; a common classification would saying the "kind of sound like" an innumerable amount of other bands. While this certainly leads to a creative and interesting sound, it creates a harsh reality for the band: They sound too similar to too many other groups. The listener struggles to separate Dr. Dog from the band it paying homage to.
The band seems to be working at curating their own sound, however. Be the Void's precise combinations of indie and folk, awash in psychedelia, fosters a style that is "Dr. Dog." Whereas many indie artists are making a name revamping early 80s dance pop, Dr. Dog is reviving the psychedelic jangle of the 60s. They are certainly forming their own identity, it is just taking too long (7 albums and counting) to do so.
Despite the bands shortcomings, Be the Void displays Dr Dog's continuation of well crafted and easily accessible songs. The band, perhaps because of all their influences, have impeccable song writing sense and capabilities. They abandoned some of their heavy instrumentation for a sparser, more bare boned, sound; relying on the primary band rather than guest instruments. The result is a rawer album based more on spontaneity and controlled chaos. Be the Void is an interesting record, from an interesting band. While Dr. Dog evolves, the audience can happily rely on these listener friendly songs in the meantime.
Much ado has been made about Rob Gronkowski's postgame dance party following the Patriots heartbreaking (to some) loss to the New York Giants. This marks the second time in five years the Pats have lost, in dramatic fashion, to the Giants. While Patriots fans all over the country mourned the teams loss, Gronkowski shook off the disappointment by cutting the rug in shirtless glory. He clearly was in rare form. What changes his behavior from a spectacle to a controversy is the fact that Gronk did not play in the Superbowl, as he was sidelined with an ankle injury. Critics of Gronkowski lay claim that if someone is too injured to play, then they should be too injured to celebrate.
Dancing like an idiot only hours after the game ended probably was not Gronkowski's best decision. It is in poor taste to have that much fun while his teammates were probably too battered and depressed to be able to be that light on their feet. He also should have realized that, being the arguably the biggest talent on the team, his actions are under scrutiny, and that not participating in the biggest game of his life would only place magnifying glasses closer to the paper. His behavior would definitely not be taken likely by fans and teammates who visualize his absence whenever they picture what could have been done to win the game.
That being said, many people are discussing what kind of consequence Gronkowski should incur, and the answer is, nothing. While what he did may have been objectionable, it is certainly not punishable. He went to a party that was financed by the New England Patriots, to be held whether they won or lost. The team hired LMFAO and an open bar, so there was no confusion as to what kind of revelry was to be had. All those in attendance, Gronk included, was expected to drink and exhibit different levels of foolishness. Gronkowski was merely celebrating a season that would never have happened if it wasn't for his talent.
Those who pose the cross-examination that Gronkowski was too hurt to play, but not too hurt to dance and drink at the after party, the answer is undeniably YES! There is a big difference between dancing like an asshole, and being sought out by three top-tier linebackers who are trying to keep you on the ground for 60 minutes straight. Keep in mind also, that Gronkowski attempted to play, and was sidelined. He was not asking to be placed on the injured list, and there was no question as to the severity of his injury. In fact, this Monday, Gronkowski will be having arthroscopic surgery on his ankle. There is no dispute that he was injured, and there is certainly no question to the loyalty of his team.
So Rob Gronkowski dances like a douche bag. He takes his shirt off too much, and listens to bad music. He is apparently too extroverted for his own good. But, those who are harshly criticize him and call for his ouster from the team should really take inventory on what he actually did wrong. While there was some questionable behavior, getting really drunk and dancing like a dick is hardly a punitive offense.
In 1902, La Voyage Dans La Lune, a silent film about a trip to the moon, was released to the masses. Now, 110 years later, Air decided to colorize and remaster the short film, and lend their talents to create an appropriate soundtrack. Air's downtempo, spaced out M.O. is the perfect rocket fuel to facilitate the trip to the moon.
Air did a wonderful job tweaking their sound to fit the movie. Where many artists will pick and choose songs to score a soundtrack, Air clearly composed the songs with the movie in mind. Air thickened their sound, using beefed up layering to empower the silent film. La Voyage Dans De Lune shows that, even though Air has created and set the bar for lounge music, they are not afraid to experiment with their sound. The ambitiousness of the band is tangible throughout the album.
A few issuea arise with this new album. Air released a full length, albeit very short, album to a 15 minute silent film. The result is a tendency for songs to meander on before sputtering out of gas. The songs fail to hold their strength for their entire length. Conversely, being a soundtrack, this album floats from one sonic theme to another, and lacks the typical Air focus and cohesion. While listeners will certainly applaud Le Voyage Dans La Lune's experimentation, its tread on multiple emotions and sounds will leave the heavy Air fan seeking more a more grounded thesis. La Voyage Dans La Lune is a great album, and will certainly be a notable 2012 release. In the catalog of Air albums, however, this will fall short of a classic.
*Fans of the Smashing Pumpkins will enjoy watching the film Le Voyage Dans La Lune, as it serves as the premise of their 1996 Breakthrough video masterpiece, Tonight, Tonight.
Gangrene is a rap duo (The Alchemist and Oh No, respectively) based out of Southern California. In the past two years, they have worked incessantly to produce a large body of work. Their Sophomore LP, Vodka & Ayahuasca, was released in early 2012.
Gangrene has followed the current Left Coast trend of combining outrageous lyrics, with the stoner-friendly loops. The result is a dark album; exchanging playful psychedelia for bad trip gravitas. Many of the lyrics are tongue-in-cheek, and the album should be taken with typical rap culture hyperbole (the two rapper do not really dabble in black market organ trade).
Despite the sound and off the wall subject manner, Vodka & Ayahuasca is not a nonchalant, quick, collaboration. The production is pristine, and the album has a astoundingly cohesive feel; one song, and deranged thought, tactfully slithering into the next. Both parties show off their musical chops and compositional ear, as the two flavor the album with guitar heavy riff rock and psychedelic loops and blips. Vodka & Ayahuasca may not be for everyone. Even the most avid gangsta-rap fans may not be able to digest the albums heavy sounds and themes. Those who are able to listen to the album with the awareness of the West Coast abstraction that it presents will find an interesting listen, a genre dancing album, and a concrete frame of reference to the underground rap scene. It may not go down in the books as one of the greatest, but it is a pleasant listen.
