So, this is the New Year and I don't feel any different. Okay, maybe it's not quite the New Year yet, and even though you may not feel any different, the music scene has experienced more break-out releases than Angelina Jolie has had covers on tabloids in these past 12 months.
Looking back, we have celebrated the birth of Lily Allen onto the scene while mourning the loss of Interpol to major-label land. We have taken comfort from Elliot Smith's posthumous voice while trying to ignore Britney Spears' attempt to resuscitate her career. We have applauded Bright Eyes' embracement of the country twang, accepted Feist's movement into the mainstream and stood behind Radiohead as they gave the industry the middle finger. And though we bamboo banga-ed to M.I.A., came alive with the Foo Fighters, spent a weekend in the city with Bloc Party, took a long walk home with Springsteen and even winced the night away with The Shins, we are bound to have some regrets over the empty slots in our music collections. You won't have to kick yourself over missing two of the most influential, yet under rated albums of 2007, however. They may not make Amazon.com's Top 10 List or line Best Buy's $9.99 holiday bargain rack, but these albums need to take a page from Dumbledore's book and come out of the proverbial closet of obscurity and onto the airwaves.
23 by Blonde Redhead. Seven certainly seems to be the lucky number for this international yet New York City based trio. Their seventh release, 23, packages the eerie dissonance of their earlier albums into melodies that are simulatenously pensive yet danceable. The title track is one of the strongest on the disc, Kazu Makino's un-mimicable vocals ringing out as clear and resonant as church bells over the teasingly electronic rhythms and lush orchestration of fellow bandmates Amedeo and Simone Pace. And the allusion to a higher power is completely grounded — Blonde Redhead's mysterious and modern album will act as a savior to any New Year's Party. Whether it is the upbeat jive of suck tracks as "Dr. Strangeluv" and "Spring and Summer by Love" or the haunting melodies of "The Dress" and "SW," 23 unwraps the perfect soundtrack for an all-night rager or a quiet evening over wine, depending on whether you want to bring in 2008 with a bang or whimper.
Night Falls Over Kortadela by Jens Lekman. Just because we find ourselves trapped by the "Middlebury Bubble" in terms of worldly affairs, doesn't mean our iPods need to be confined to jam-band vibes and the Seattle music scene. Sweden's own Jens Lekman provides a much needed jilt to a Scandinavian scene dominated by the beautiful yet dragging compositions of Iceland's Sigur Ros. The Swede's sixth release, yet only third full-length album, Night Falls Over Kortadela is Lekman's most masterful mix-match of genres to date. From sampling Renaldo and The Loaf to the lush orchestration on "And I Remember Every Kiss" to the harder hitting "Friday Night at the Drive-in Bingo," he proves that he is not just a pop singer — he is a DJ, vocalist and occasional comedian with lyrics that are laugh-out-loud funny. And even though his vocals are reminiscent of the 80s icon Morrissey mixed with pop jingles that hearken back to 60s Motown, Lekman is progressive - his ability to synthesize sounds transcends genre and decades, making Night Falls a perfect compliment to the New Year. Lekman's album serves as a reminder to look forward while still holding onto influences from the past, and always with a sense of humor.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Head of Radio
"I wish I was special/But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo/ What the hell am I doing here?/ I don't belong here." Thom Yorke's desperate confession became an anthem - and an airwave infection - for a generation. And, almost 15 years and eight full-length releases later, Radiohead has defied an industry that labeled "Creep" a one-hit wonder, becoming one of the most innovative and respected recording artists of the last 20 years.
Fans of the Oxford quintet feared that the band's future would be blotted out in 2006 when Yorke released the instantly critically-acclaimed and more slowly aficionado-adopted solo endeavor The Eraser. In true Kid A form, The Eraser is unhinged from rock'n'roll with its predominately electronic sound and hard-to-decipher themes and melody. Lovers of the marriage of hard-hitting chordswith the emotionally charged electronicism of The Bends and OK Computer mournfully viewed Yorke as a deadbeat dad abandoning the most immaculate British union since Floyd in order to chase dreams reminiscent of a 1960s-psychedelic mid-life crisis. But, as he promised, the unpredictable genius returned with renewed brilliance on the October 2007 release In Rainbows.
And if you are not devoted Radiohead follower, you may walk your fingers over to Amazon.com or the iTunes store to check out the record, and, upon not finding it, curse the shoddy reporting of Campus columnists. And no, you won't find the album on sale for $13.99 at Best Buy, and you won't be able to steal it from WRMC after your next show. In a move as politically charged as 2003's Hail to the Thief, the release is only currently available for download at www.inrainbows.com. And what's even more extraordinary — you name your own price. From three cents to 35 bucks to a fat goose egg, the band's decision to go digital seems an odd mixture of psychological-experiment, consumer confusion and economic earthquake in an attempt to eliminate the middle-man. Still, as is their custom, the reengaged rockers have started a trend — Nine Inch Nails and Saul Williams will also release download-only records later this month.
And, while it would be easy to remember In Rainbows as the work that could lead to the downfall of the major-label recording industry, it's such a testament to Yorke's artistic integrity and masterful modification that his 10th masterpiece does not even need this added publicity — it's a monument in and of itself.
The record opens with the surprisingly poppy and heavily synthetic "15 Steps," and the quick chords of "Jigsaw Falling into Place" could even border on danceable. In typical Radiohead fashion, however, In Rainbows mingles in melancholic melodies and sprawling nostalgic landscapes engendered by the quintessential mechanical mood of their tracks. And, just as every note carries a particular significance, the name of the album is not without meaning. Yorke is undoubtedly familiar with the unpleasant moods associated with the colors red, blue and green (all shades found in an rainbow), and "All I Need," "Faust Arp" and "Nude" weave an inexplicable yet oddly comforting reflective reverie over the listener. The album in its entirety plays as a steady, driving force. And, while no track may be epic, all of the cuts are carefully constructed, lending to a release that is one of their most solid yet. And a good thing, too — it is going to have to be sturdy to standup to the controversy their distribution tactics have elicited.
With the release of In Rainbows well over a decade later, it seems that Yorke's heartwrenching plea has been answered. He's not just special, he's revolutionary.
Fans of the Oxford quintet feared that the band's future would be blotted out in 2006 when Yorke released the instantly critically-acclaimed and more slowly aficionado-adopted solo endeavor The Eraser. In true Kid A form, The Eraser is unhinged from rock'n'roll with its predominately electronic sound and hard-to-decipher themes and melody. Lovers of the marriage of hard-hitting chordswith the emotionally charged electronicism of The Bends and OK Computer mournfully viewed Yorke as a deadbeat dad abandoning the most immaculate British union since Floyd in order to chase dreams reminiscent of a 1960s-psychedelic mid-life crisis. But, as he promised, the unpredictable genius returned with renewed brilliance on the October 2007 release In Rainbows.
And if you are not devoted Radiohead follower, you may walk your fingers over to Amazon.com or the iTunes store to check out the record, and, upon not finding it, curse the shoddy reporting of Campus columnists. And no, you won't find the album on sale for $13.99 at Best Buy, and you won't be able to steal it from WRMC after your next show. In a move as politically charged as 2003's Hail to the Thief, the release is only currently available for download at www.inrainbows.com. And what's even more extraordinary — you name your own price. From three cents to 35 bucks to a fat goose egg, the band's decision to go digital seems an odd mixture of psychological-experiment, consumer confusion and economic earthquake in an attempt to eliminate the middle-man. Still, as is their custom, the reengaged rockers have started a trend — Nine Inch Nails and Saul Williams will also release download-only records later this month.
And, while it would be easy to remember In Rainbows as the work that could lead to the downfall of the major-label recording industry, it's such a testament to Yorke's artistic integrity and masterful modification that his 10th masterpiece does not even need this added publicity — it's a monument in and of itself.
The record opens with the surprisingly poppy and heavily synthetic "15 Steps," and the quick chords of "Jigsaw Falling into Place" could even border on danceable. In typical Radiohead fashion, however, In Rainbows mingles in melancholic melodies and sprawling nostalgic landscapes engendered by the quintessential mechanical mood of their tracks. And, just as every note carries a particular significance, the name of the album is not without meaning. Yorke is undoubtedly familiar with the unpleasant moods associated with the colors red, blue and green (all shades found in an rainbow), and "All I Need," "Faust Arp" and "Nude" weave an inexplicable yet oddly comforting reflective reverie over the listener. The album in its entirety plays as a steady, driving force. And, while no track may be epic, all of the cuts are carefully constructed, lending to a release that is one of their most solid yet. And a good thing, too — it is going to have to be sturdy to standup to the controversy their distribution tactics have elicited.
With the release of In Rainbows well over a decade later, it seems that Yorke's heartwrenching plea has been answered. He's not just special, he's revolutionary.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Dear Mr. Smith: Tupac Is More Frightening Than You.
Along with a chill in the air, mid-October also brings the tingle in your spine signifying the rise of witches, goblins and ghosts associated with the falling leaves. While your upcoming midterms may strike your heart with more fear than the supernatural of Halloween, there is still a version of the child left in some of us that still senses the mystery and magic in the autumn air, causing us to quicken our step when crossing College Street on our way back from the library at midnight. Despite the discerning mind my education is supposed to cultivate, I still believe in ghosts. And apparently not just murder victims come back from the dead with unfinished business — musicians do as well.
When I read that Elliot Smith was releasing his second posthumous album, my first response was skepticism. The first appearance of his ghost wandering around the CD racks took the form of From a Basement on the Hill — an album that lacked the heart-rending passion of the canonized Self Titled and Either/Or. Granted, Smith's songs were never the life of the party (the most common criticism of the Portland songwriter is that listening to his songs will lead fans to the same fate as the albums' composer), but with the exception of "Twilight," "Let's Get Lost" and "A Passing Feeling," most of the tracks on Basement should have remained buried in obscurity. Still, in devotion to the memory of perhaps one of the greatest acoustic artists of our generation, I paid my respects and fifteen dollars for the two-disc New Moon.
Released by Kill Rock Stars almost four years after his October 21st suicide, New Moon is a thorough and trembling monument to the troubled troubadour. A collection of songs recorded between the Self-Titled (1994) and Either/Or (1997) sessions, the double-disc compilation showcases Smith at his best — and unlike the Basement recordings, these tracks are about as polished as he gets, and play less like B-sides and more like apologetic afterthoughts. And even though New Moon suffers from the same stigma as other Smith releases in its tendency to run together — it is often difficult to distinguish one track from the next — this merely adds to a sense of nostalgic continuity.
Disc One features an assortment of standout tracks, including the memorably melancholy "Angel in the Snow," a song sung in Smith's typical clear vocal approach laid over the steady strumming of his guitar as simple as a heartbeat. "Talking to Mary" is a testament to the insecure indie hero's blue-collar storytelling style while "Looking Over My Shoulder" offers a captivatingly catchy hook. But perhaps the two greatest draws of the first disc is an early version of "Miss Misery" — the Academy Award nominated track from The Good Will Hunting Soundtrack that launched Smith somewhat unwillingly into the spotlight — and the concert favorite cover of "Thirteen" by Big Star. And while Disc Two pales in comparison to the intricacies of its predecessor, the intoxicating indignation of "Georgia, Georgia," the alternate version of "Pretty Mary K" and the mournful closer "Half Right" makes listening to the album from start to finish a necessity and a feasible feat as most tracks hover around the three-minute mark.
Despite its title, New Moon adds to the fullness of Elliot Smith's stunning and haunting career. Listening to the album's disconsolate discourse, harrowing honesty and apologetic acoustics, I am reminded that not all ghosts are vengeful. Some return to bring comfort and condolence.
When I read that Elliot Smith was releasing his second posthumous album, my first response was skepticism. The first appearance of his ghost wandering around the CD racks took the form of From a Basement on the Hill — an album that lacked the heart-rending passion of the canonized Self Titled and Either/Or. Granted, Smith's songs were never the life of the party (the most common criticism of the Portland songwriter is that listening to his songs will lead fans to the same fate as the albums' composer), but with the exception of "Twilight," "Let's Get Lost" and "A Passing Feeling," most of the tracks on Basement should have remained buried in obscurity. Still, in devotion to the memory of perhaps one of the greatest acoustic artists of our generation, I paid my respects and fifteen dollars for the two-disc New Moon.
Released by Kill Rock Stars almost four years after his October 21st suicide, New Moon is a thorough and trembling monument to the troubled troubadour. A collection of songs recorded between the Self-Titled (1994) and Either/Or (1997) sessions, the double-disc compilation showcases Smith at his best — and unlike the Basement recordings, these tracks are about as polished as he gets, and play less like B-sides and more like apologetic afterthoughts. And even though New Moon suffers from the same stigma as other Smith releases in its tendency to run together — it is often difficult to distinguish one track from the next — this merely adds to a sense of nostalgic continuity.
Disc One features an assortment of standout tracks, including the memorably melancholy "Angel in the Snow," a song sung in Smith's typical clear vocal approach laid over the steady strumming of his guitar as simple as a heartbeat. "Talking to Mary" is a testament to the insecure indie hero's blue-collar storytelling style while "Looking Over My Shoulder" offers a captivatingly catchy hook. But perhaps the two greatest draws of the first disc is an early version of "Miss Misery" — the Academy Award nominated track from The Good Will Hunting Soundtrack that launched Smith somewhat unwillingly into the spotlight — and the concert favorite cover of "Thirteen" by Big Star. And while Disc Two pales in comparison to the intricacies of its predecessor, the intoxicating indignation of "Georgia, Georgia," the alternate version of "Pretty Mary K" and the mournful closer "Half Right" makes listening to the album from start to finish a necessity and a feasible feat as most tracks hover around the three-minute mark.
Despite its title, New Moon adds to the fullness of Elliot Smith's stunning and haunting career. Listening to the album's disconsolate discourse, harrowing honesty and apologetic acoustics, I am reminded that not all ghosts are vengeful. Some return to bring comfort and condolence.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Earbud Bards
As we slip out of seer-sucker and skirts and into corduroy and cable-knits, we also shrug off the sunshine-pop of summer and hit play on something more substantial. Maybe it's the shorter days, the crisper air or the falling leaves, but the autumn season lends itself to the poets and their accompanying introspection. And while I heart Heaney, adore Auden and revere Rilke, there can be just as much comfort between the chords of a boy's guitar as the landscaped lines of Cummings.
Iron & Wine's Sept. 25 release The Shepherd's Dog is more conducive to the brisker weather than hot apple cider — and equally as satisfying. While the solo acoustic strum and Sam Beam's whispery vocals on releases such The Creek Drank the Cradle and In the Reins may be more comparable to the winter wind whipping through barren branches, The Shepherd's Dog is lush and even colorful on some arrangements — the first single "Boy with a Coin," has a driving heartbeat while the Afro-pop "House by the Sea" is surprisingly danceable. Despite the shiny, more polished sound of the skin, Iron & Wine still stay true to their melancholy core. Beam's voice is still laced with its hauntingly nostalgic hue, while the structure of their songs is still supported by the minimalist, skeletal chords of the acoustic guitar. The masses were first exposed to the brilliant songwriting of the Florida native through the group's cover of The Postal Service's "Such Great Heights" featured on Zach Braff's mix-tape made public Garden State Soundtrack. On their third full-length release, Iron & Wine uses their ever-rising position as Indie idols to craft an album of note-perfect production without sacrificing the raw emotionality we have come to expect from Beam. "Carousel" veritably rips your ventricles apart while the waltz-like wandering melody of "Flightless Bird, American Mouth," will weave an irrevocable reverie. And even though some of the intimacy created by Beam's "one-guy in a bedroom" sound may be missing along with the scratchy lo-fi production value, The Shepherd's Dog languidly breezes into the living room, offering a record that breathes introspection and intricacy.
The turning leaves may also inspire personal transformation — unfortunately, change is not always a good thing. Tim Kasher of Cursive fame turned his side-project The Good Life into a veritable second career with the impressive 2004 release Album of the Year. A collection of remorseful romances, the follow-up to the Lovers Need Lawyers EP is epically earnest in its portrayal of past pain with simple arrangements and Kasher's ordinary vocals. It is this lack of adornment, however, that gives Album of the Year its truthfulness and subsequent charm. With its everyman lyrics and humble melody, the highlight track "Inmates," featuring guest vocalist Jiha Lee, is the quintessential walking-out-the-door anthem — that is, if you prefer to leave with a whimper instead of a bang. Sadly, in a misguided attempt to subscribe to the alt-country, folk vibe so prominent on the Saddle Creek label, Kasher takes the elementary approach too far. His Sept. 11 release, Help Wanted Nights, is not enlighteningly introspective in its simplicity, but unbearably boring. The record lacks an overall vision, and while Kasher's songwriting ability breaks through on such tracks as "Your Share of Men" and "Playing Dumb," The Good Life's fourth full-length release is ultimately more disappointing than all of Kasher's failed relationships combined.
So as you refurbish your wardrobe for the fall, don't forget to update your music collection — sincere songwriting will keep you warm in the evenings, and acoustic is always appropriate.
Iron & Wine's Sept. 25 release The Shepherd's Dog is more conducive to the brisker weather than hot apple cider — and equally as satisfying. While the solo acoustic strum and Sam Beam's whispery vocals on releases such The Creek Drank the Cradle and In the Reins may be more comparable to the winter wind whipping through barren branches, The Shepherd's Dog is lush and even colorful on some arrangements — the first single "Boy with a Coin," has a driving heartbeat while the Afro-pop "House by the Sea" is surprisingly danceable. Despite the shiny, more polished sound of the skin, Iron & Wine still stay true to their melancholy core. Beam's voice is still laced with its hauntingly nostalgic hue, while the structure of their songs is still supported by the minimalist, skeletal chords of the acoustic guitar. The masses were first exposed to the brilliant songwriting of the Florida native through the group's cover of The Postal Service's "Such Great Heights" featured on Zach Braff's mix-tape made public Garden State Soundtrack. On their third full-length release, Iron & Wine uses their ever-rising position as Indie idols to craft an album of note-perfect production without sacrificing the raw emotionality we have come to expect from Beam. "Carousel" veritably rips your ventricles apart while the waltz-like wandering melody of "Flightless Bird, American Mouth," will weave an irrevocable reverie. And even though some of the intimacy created by Beam's "one-guy in a bedroom" sound may be missing along with the scratchy lo-fi production value, The Shepherd's Dog languidly breezes into the living room, offering a record that breathes introspection and intricacy.
The turning leaves may also inspire personal transformation — unfortunately, change is not always a good thing. Tim Kasher of Cursive fame turned his side-project The Good Life into a veritable second career with the impressive 2004 release Album of the Year. A collection of remorseful romances, the follow-up to the Lovers Need Lawyers EP is epically earnest in its portrayal of past pain with simple arrangements and Kasher's ordinary vocals. It is this lack of adornment, however, that gives Album of the Year its truthfulness and subsequent charm. With its everyman lyrics and humble melody, the highlight track "Inmates," featuring guest vocalist Jiha Lee, is the quintessential walking-out-the-door anthem — that is, if you prefer to leave with a whimper instead of a bang. Sadly, in a misguided attempt to subscribe to the alt-country, folk vibe so prominent on the Saddle Creek label, Kasher takes the elementary approach too far. His Sept. 11 release, Help Wanted Nights, is not enlighteningly introspective in its simplicity, but unbearably boring. The record lacks an overall vision, and while Kasher's songwriting ability breaks through on such tracks as "Your Share of Men" and "Playing Dumb," The Good Life's fourth full-length release is ultimately more disappointing than all of Kasher's failed relationships combined.
So as you refurbish your wardrobe for the fall, don't forget to update your music collection — sincere songwriting will keep you warm in the evenings, and acoustic is always appropriate.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Setting Off the Smoke Alarm
In a moment out of the college fantasy of every bohemian high school student this side of the Mississippi, I huddled in a tastefully lighted room filled with the scent of brewing tea and effortless conversation. Maybe it was the Gypsy Kings in the background, maybe it was the loom of graduation for the seniors in the room that brought out the philosophical, or maybe there was more than just chai in the tea, but the topic of people who "glow" cropped up.
You've all met them — that person whose very presence is infectious — whose brilliance, talent, passion and restlessness drive you to be near them as much as it drives you to explore the infinite abyss that is life outside the bubble. Or, if you are of the Kerouacian school of thought, the ones who burn, the ones who are "mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time." I'm sure you've stumbled across the quote on Facebook, wedged between a line from Eliot's "Prufrock" and an exchange from an obscure, vaguely amusing British comedy series. But I digress. Thankfully, the Middlebury campus is speckled with people who burn, spurring me to dive into the equally infinite abyss that is the Indie-rock scene in search of a band that would light up my headphones and the subsequent space between my ears.
Fittingly enough, the New York founded, Montreal-based Stars live up to their name, burning like fabulous roman candles. The Stars aligned, if you will, in 2001, fronted by the fetchingly resonant vocals of Torquil Campbell and the sweeping keyboards of Chris Seligman. While their freshman full-length, Nightsongs, and follow-up Heart in 2003, are enchanting in their mixture of electronica and chamber-pop, it is not until 2004's Set Yourself on Fire's elaborate orchestration and simple poetry that the Canadian quintet exploded onto the scene and burned up the charts - relatively speaking. Several of the band's songs have made appearances on Fox Network's The O.C. (a series whose compilation comprehension rivals that of Zach Braff) and CTV's Degrassi: The Next Generation. And while these programs may seem low on the sophistication scale for the aforementioned BBC aficionados, it is sensible that Stars' unpretentious lyrics sung in Campbell's Morrissey-evoking cadence should be featured in coming-of-age dramas — even the ridiculous ones.
In fact, the lush soundscapes on Set Yourself on Fire were so striking that other members of the music community, including The Stills, The Dears and Junior Boys, remixed the 13 track modern masterpiece in the 2007 aptly-titled, Do You Trust Your Friends? And taking to heart the non-complacency that their emotive bebop evokes, their fourth full-length endeavor, In Our Bedroom After the War, hit shelves yesterday — although the band released the tracks for download two months ago in an attempt to curb leaking.
In Our Bedroom refines the give-and-take between complicated instrumentation and conversational verse while simultaneously highlighting the push of Campbell's crafted murmur and the pull of fellow vocalist and guitarist Amy Millan's wispy articulation. While some of the heartbreaking nostalgia is missing from their newest release, such tracks as "Take Me to the Riot" and "Bitches in Tokyo" are contagiously catchy, even bordering on danceable with their electronic-pop pulse. And for those enamored with Stars' classical couture, "Window Bird" and the title track still showcase Campbell's flair for the dramatic.
In Our Bedroom After the War, with its sometimes repetitive riffs and decreased emphasis on symphonic stylings, may disappoint some purist fans. And while there is nothing comparable to "Your Ex-Lover is Dead" lifting its line-up, Stars' fall release still delivers a catalog of both the infectious and introspective — moving forward without forgetting to look back. There is no doubt that Torquil Campbell is still on the top of his game. And when he's at his best, he's not just good, he's on fire.
You've all met them — that person whose very presence is infectious — whose brilliance, talent, passion and restlessness drive you to be near them as much as it drives you to explore the infinite abyss that is life outside the bubble. Or, if you are of the Kerouacian school of thought, the ones who burn, the ones who are "mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time." I'm sure you've stumbled across the quote on Facebook, wedged between a line from Eliot's "Prufrock" and an exchange from an obscure, vaguely amusing British comedy series. But I digress. Thankfully, the Middlebury campus is speckled with people who burn, spurring me to dive into the equally infinite abyss that is the Indie-rock scene in search of a band that would light up my headphones and the subsequent space between my ears.
Fittingly enough, the New York founded, Montreal-based Stars live up to their name, burning like fabulous roman candles. The Stars aligned, if you will, in 2001, fronted by the fetchingly resonant vocals of Torquil Campbell and the sweeping keyboards of Chris Seligman. While their freshman full-length, Nightsongs, and follow-up Heart in 2003, are enchanting in their mixture of electronica and chamber-pop, it is not until 2004's Set Yourself on Fire's elaborate orchestration and simple poetry that the Canadian quintet exploded onto the scene and burned up the charts - relatively speaking. Several of the band's songs have made appearances on Fox Network's The O.C. (a series whose compilation comprehension rivals that of Zach Braff) and CTV's Degrassi: The Next Generation. And while these programs may seem low on the sophistication scale for the aforementioned BBC aficionados, it is sensible that Stars' unpretentious lyrics sung in Campbell's Morrissey-evoking cadence should be featured in coming-of-age dramas — even the ridiculous ones.
In fact, the lush soundscapes on Set Yourself on Fire were so striking that other members of the music community, including The Stills, The Dears and Junior Boys, remixed the 13 track modern masterpiece in the 2007 aptly-titled, Do You Trust Your Friends? And taking to heart the non-complacency that their emotive bebop evokes, their fourth full-length endeavor, In Our Bedroom After the War, hit shelves yesterday — although the band released the tracks for download two months ago in an attempt to curb leaking.
In Our Bedroom refines the give-and-take between complicated instrumentation and conversational verse while simultaneously highlighting the push of Campbell's crafted murmur and the pull of fellow vocalist and guitarist Amy Millan's wispy articulation. While some of the heartbreaking nostalgia is missing from their newest release, such tracks as "Take Me to the Riot" and "Bitches in Tokyo" are contagiously catchy, even bordering on danceable with their electronic-pop pulse. And for those enamored with Stars' classical couture, "Window Bird" and the title track still showcase Campbell's flair for the dramatic.
In Our Bedroom After the War, with its sometimes repetitive riffs and decreased emphasis on symphonic stylings, may disappoint some purist fans. And while there is nothing comparable to "Your Ex-Lover is Dead" lifting its line-up, Stars' fall release still delivers a catalog of both the infectious and introspective — moving forward without forgetting to look back. There is no doubt that Torquil Campbell is still on the top of his game. And when he's at his best, he's not just good, he's on fire.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Fodder for the Food Chain
As Midd students strive to leave their mark on the community for the first or final time, these artists deliver their fall releases with the same mingling of anticipation and anxiety.
Following in the indie-trends of girl-jeans and converse sneakers, Alexander Church has subscribed to the practice of giving a project name to his sole singer/songwriter outfit like Iron & Wine (Samuel Beam) and Bright Eyes (Conor Oberst) before him. Whether Church adopted the stage alias Sea Wolf — taken from the 1904 Jack London novel — as an attempt to fit in with the other hipster heroes or as an attempt at protective anonymity in case his freshman album flops is unclear, however, the latter seems unnecessary. Sea Wolf's first full-length debut, Leaves in the River, is as intoxicating as it is inspired. Church's resonant vocals in the vein of Daniel Kessler of Interpol and Matt Pond of the prolific Philadelphia quintet, Matt Pond PA, are a refreshing reverberation from the wavering whine plaguing the indie-rock scene — a widespread epidemic that researchers are saying may be caused by the aforementioned ill-fitting pants. And while the tracks "Winter Windows" and "Black Dirt" rival the orchestration found in the Decemberists or Andrew Bird, Church seems to have realized that the formula for "You're a Wolf" and "Middle-Distance Runner" is what will make him friends. This unfortunately causes Leaves in the River to play as much synth-pop as the Pearsons international party. Despite its penchant for repetition, Sea Wolf's Sept. 27th release will be a welcome newcomer to the genre — even if the scene is already more crowded than a Battell double.
Texas quintet Eisley bewitched listeners with their February 2005 release Room Noises — an album that bordered on magical with sweeping melodies and the Dupree sisters' enchanting voices. And, as it should be in nature's cycle, the band takes a page from the Arcade Fire's Neon Bible, crafting a more ambitious and darker sound on their sophomore attempt. The aptly named Combinations adds a layer of harder beats beneath Sherri and Stacey's angelic vocals —the opening track "Many Funerals" being the most rock-driven cut produced by the group to date. Despite the more jaded tone, fans of Room Noises should not despair. Glimpses of the quintet's exhilarating exuberance can still be heard on "Ten Cent Blues" and "If You're Wondering." Combinations, released on Aug. 14th, is a beautiful blend of dance-hall and ballad, magic and moping, showcasing the band's earned maturity and confidence on their second time around.
New York City's Interpol exploded on the scene with their iconic black suits and eyeliner in the fall of 2002. With their freshman debut Turn on the Bright Lights they proved they had the forte to match the fashion — such tracks as "NYC" and "Stellar Was a Diver" still hold a place of prestige on many a playlist. And while Antics, armed with the catchy chorus of "Slow Hands," launched the foursome into the mainstream, they officially left their indie bubble and traveled abroad to the strange and often confusing land of major-label records with their junior endeavor Our Love to Admire. The July 10th Capitol Records release features impressive tracks such as the radio-friendly "Heinrich Maneauver" and "Pioneer to the Falls."One can even hear allusions to Bright Lights through the polish in "Rest My Chemistry." But most of the record runs together as incarnations of Antics chart-breakers as Interpol struggles to replicate their sophomore success. Still, I look forward to their senior attempt in the hopes that they will embrace a new sound without quite forgetting the post-punk Joy Division imitations of their early years that I have come to love and admire.
Indie mainstays Palomar created a niche for themselves in the scene with their catchy power-pop in 1998 and have not done much to expand nor diminish their creative technique through their two subsequent releases. Their fourth record, All Things, Forest, stays true to the New York quartet's innocuous blend of head-bopping electronica-light and melancholy mania. And while their lack of development may prove a disappointment to some fans, the girl-next-door vocals of Rachel Warren set over jangly keyboard beats brightens any beatbox. All Things, Forest will most definitely not alter the music world, but in these tumultuous and transitional times, sometimes familiar is fundamental.
Following in the indie-trends of girl-jeans and converse sneakers, Alexander Church has subscribed to the practice of giving a project name to his sole singer/songwriter outfit like Iron & Wine (Samuel Beam) and Bright Eyes (Conor Oberst) before him. Whether Church adopted the stage alias Sea Wolf — taken from the 1904 Jack London novel — as an attempt to fit in with the other hipster heroes or as an attempt at protective anonymity in case his freshman album flops is unclear, however, the latter seems unnecessary. Sea Wolf's first full-length debut, Leaves in the River, is as intoxicating as it is inspired. Church's resonant vocals in the vein of Daniel Kessler of Interpol and Matt Pond of the prolific Philadelphia quintet, Matt Pond PA, are a refreshing reverberation from the wavering whine plaguing the indie-rock scene — a widespread epidemic that researchers are saying may be caused by the aforementioned ill-fitting pants. And while the tracks "Winter Windows" and "Black Dirt" rival the orchestration found in the Decemberists or Andrew Bird, Church seems to have realized that the formula for "You're a Wolf" and "Middle-Distance Runner" is what will make him friends. This unfortunately causes Leaves in the River to play as much synth-pop as the Pearsons international party. Despite its penchant for repetition, Sea Wolf's Sept. 27th release will be a welcome newcomer to the genre — even if the scene is already more crowded than a Battell double.
Texas quintet Eisley bewitched listeners with their February 2005 release Room Noises — an album that bordered on magical with sweeping melodies and the Dupree sisters' enchanting voices. And, as it should be in nature's cycle, the band takes a page from the Arcade Fire's Neon Bible, crafting a more ambitious and darker sound on their sophomore attempt. The aptly named Combinations adds a layer of harder beats beneath Sherri and Stacey's angelic vocals —the opening track "Many Funerals" being the most rock-driven cut produced by the group to date. Despite the more jaded tone, fans of Room Noises should not despair. Glimpses of the quintet's exhilarating exuberance can still be heard on "Ten Cent Blues" and "If You're Wondering." Combinations, released on Aug. 14th, is a beautiful blend of dance-hall and ballad, magic and moping, showcasing the band's earned maturity and confidence on their second time around.
New York City's Interpol exploded on the scene with their iconic black suits and eyeliner in the fall of 2002. With their freshman debut Turn on the Bright Lights they proved they had the forte to match the fashion — such tracks as "NYC" and "Stellar Was a Diver" still hold a place of prestige on many a playlist. And while Antics, armed with the catchy chorus of "Slow Hands," launched the foursome into the mainstream, they officially left their indie bubble and traveled abroad to the strange and often confusing land of major-label records with their junior endeavor Our Love to Admire. The July 10th Capitol Records release features impressive tracks such as the radio-friendly "Heinrich Maneauver" and "Pioneer to the Falls."One can even hear allusions to Bright Lights through the polish in "Rest My Chemistry." But most of the record runs together as incarnations of Antics chart-breakers as Interpol struggles to replicate their sophomore success. Still, I look forward to their senior attempt in the hopes that they will embrace a new sound without quite forgetting the post-punk Joy Division imitations of their early years that I have come to love and admire.
Indie mainstays Palomar created a niche for themselves in the scene with their catchy power-pop in 1998 and have not done much to expand nor diminish their creative technique through their two subsequent releases. Their fourth record, All Things, Forest, stays true to the New York quartet's innocuous blend of head-bopping electronica-light and melancholy mania. And while their lack of development may prove a disappointment to some fans, the girl-next-door vocals of Rachel Warren set over jangly keyboard beats brightens any beatbox. All Things, Forest will most definitely not alter the music world, but in these tumultuous and transitional times, sometimes familiar is fundamental.
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