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.
