Surfer Blood - Astro Coast (2010)

3.5 ★/7.0 - 7.9
[Kanine]

A band like Surfer Blood has no place in Florida. In case you didn't know, the Sunshine State is without a doubt one of the strangest places in the country. Last year, an overweight man from Florida tried to argue in the court of law that he was too fat to kill his former son-in-law, while another man whose computer contained over 1,000 child porn images blamed his cat. Just this past week, some guy thought he could put up a ransom for stealing someone's potted plant. There are nymphomaniacs, truck fighters, fish-wielders and diaper dudes. Jew kickers and door-to-door breast doctors run rampant, Hooters lies to their employees and grandparents hire hit men.

Surfer Blood know where they live (One of the tracks on Astro Coast was titled "Twin Peaks" for a reason) and must feel pretty uncomfortable about it because all they seem to want to do is sound as normal as possible. They must cling to their copies of Vampire Weekend and The Blue Album every night shivering in fear of all the weirdos and bizarre events they're surrounded by.

Their debut album seems to function as a sort of desperate last attempt to get out of their environment, capitalizing on a unique mix of every popular indie pop trend ever made. Sonic Youth guitar tones do Strokes covers. Weezer power pop sections alternate between Krautrock influenced instrumentals. Surf music and The Shins, Bradford Cox and The Sea and Cake, etc. Astro Coast will have you playing the name game for hours.

But really, who cares when the songs are this well structured and fun to follow? Rolling waves of grunginess give way to guitar heroics and handclaps on "Floating Vibes". "Take it Easy" shifts back and forth between jittery and groovy, always reiterating its namesake. "Harmonix" begins cutesy but gets otherworldly with disorienting haziness in each chorus.

Surfer Blood offers a nice alternative to Vampire Weekend haters everywhere. Both bands are shameless about their stealing and aim to create something distinct and, above all, fun in their mixing and matching of indie-fluences, but Surfer Blood sounds far less conscious about it. They're more lo-fi, more garage, more laid-back and with those Rivers Cuomo vocals, far more geeky and humble. Identifiable, easy to listen to and enjoyable even after multiple listens, Astro Coast has the potential to become a huge hit.

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Beach House - Teen Dream (2010)

3.5 ★/7.0 - 7.9
[Sub Pop]

With Teen Dream, highly acclaimed lo-fi dream pop duo Beach House continues their gradual embrace of higher production values, but that was probably to be expected. The more significant and surprising shift for their third LP, however, is that of mood. Teen Dream is a noticeably lighter affair than its two predecessors. Whereas Devotion was an album made for haunted houses and unsettled spirits, Teen Dream mines the duo's sleepy keyboards and Victoria Legrand's ambiguous moans for soundtracking the spirit of...well...teens.

From the cymbal crashes and rumbling drums of "Zebra" to the kaleidoscopic shuffle of "10 Mile Stereo", Teen Dream is constantly reinforcing the imagery of wide open fields, walks in the park and the wild nature of animals as metaphors for youth and freewheeling lovers. 'Beasts' and 'hunters' lurk under the lazy guitar figures and shimmering psychedelia of album highlight, "Norway", but Legrand suggests that the push and pull of these violent mates contains something sacred and beautiful; something that opens the "billions of stars to your fate". Even if she still sounds like she's lonely and lost, the brighter textures emphasize the hope in her isolation this time around, rather than the heartbreak.

Nostalgic romance is the star of the show. "Better Times" sways through snapshots of American Graffiti with its vintage guitar riff and gentle rock. "Real Love" gets stuck swooning over just the opening of "Don't Stop Believin" for maximum emotional punch. Gorgeous album closer, "Take Care" employs baroque touches to recreate a long carousel ride with your first true love. There's always been a dusty element to Beach House's music that could make listeners think about old photo albums, but the fondness emanating on Teen Dream will probably make you actually break them out.

But however satisfying it may be to see Beach House realize their potential in some ways, it also sort of reveals just how unremarkable the core elements of their sound have always been. Devotion and even Beach House might have been transitional works, but their mystery and dark underbelly translated for much more replay value. When certain songs got boring, the atmosphere carried the album. On the other hand, Teen Dream is far more open about its intentions, which is to stun you with its beauty before...actually, that's it.

The buzz-n-fuzz of "Silver Soul" may initially catch your ear, but the trick quickly runs thin. On "Lover of Mine" the duo seems to suffer from the same problem, getting so lost in the tone and texture of their keyboards that they forget to craft a song that does anything other than drift beautifully. Ultimately that's the thing that keeps Teen Dream from being as flat-out stunning as Devotion; it's remarkably well-painted, but that doesn't change the fact that you're looking at wallpaper. After all the advances and evolution made in genres like Electronica, Hip Hop and Dubstep that other sub-sections of the indie pop world have already thoroughly integrated and embraced, you have to wonder where that leaves sleepy and fairly simple artists like Beach House. There's no denying that Teen Dream is one of the first good albums of the new year, but what's questionable is whether or not it's that important.

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Quasimoto - The Further Adventures of Lord Quas (2005)

3.0 ★/6.0 - 6.9

Between the Slim Shady persona becoming a parody of himself, the 4 year break for all of MF Doom's projects and titles (only to end with him returning simply as DOOM), and the ridiculously constant name changes of Puff Daddy/P. Diddy/SeanDaddyP.CombsDiddyJabberwockymajig, it might be safe to say that the hip hop alter-ego has had it's day. Increasingly, it's becoming to feel more like a gimmick than something that could actually inspire new ideas within an artist.

So where does that leave Quasimoto? There were already moments on The Unseen where it felt like Madlib was spending too much time with just himself in his garage. Whereas on Madvillainy, Madlib had someone else to bounce his ideas off of and tell him what wasn't working (See "Closer" w/ MF Doom for more evidence of how effective this is), the Quasimoto moniker finds our Stones Throw leading star basically talking to himself. And while it hasn't been confirmed whether or not Madlib took as many drugs for The Further Adventures of Lord Quas as he did for The Unseen, it certainly sounds like he doubled his intake, because the frustrations are a bit tougher to overlook, such as when the plodding boredom of "Greenery" ends with a 15 second snippet of a delicious Blaxploitation rhythm that could have been a much better song in and of itself, or how the smooth nightstalker grooves of "Bus Ride" keep getting interrupted by nonsensical hodgepodges of random notes and hobo rants.

Undoubtedly, a lot of people will forgive or even commend Madlib for his refusal to edit because, for those fascinated by the intoxicating effects of drugs, it's hard not to glamorize it. Plus, any Madlib fan would be foolish to miss out on hearing him go synth-crazy on "Don't Blink" and "Bartender Say", indulging in lush productions as on "The Exclusive", And delivering what-the-fuck experiences on "Shroom Music" and "Tomorrow Never Knows" that can't really be found anywhere else.

Ultimately though, marijuana is not a miracle inspiration and can't pull genius out of anyone's ass. At the end of "Greenery", Madlib can't resist putting in that familiar "America's Most Blunted" sample of an educational video voice explaining how "Everyone finds that they're more creative stoned than straight!" But then it goes on to explain how all of us are Michelangelos and Da Vincis, and that assumption is where The Further Adventures of Lord Quas loses its way. Weed only brings out what's already there. Someone who's never touched an instrument won't compose a symphony when they're high, although someone who's had years of practice and songwriting experience will probably find ideas they wouldn't have thought of sober. To Madlib's credit, he certainly fits the latter bill.

But an even bigger misstep would be failure to aknowledge that not all of them are going to sound as good the morning after, and Lord Quas makes that mistake a few too many times on this slight sophomore slump. The problem is that when you wake and bake, there's never a "morning after". Read more...

The Mars Volta - Octahedron (2009)

3.5 ★/7.0 - 7.9

The infinite monkey theorem states that a monkey hitting keys at random on a typewriter keyboard for an infinite amount of time will almost surely type any given text, such as the complete works of William Shakespeare.

With The Mars Volta in 2009, there's bound to be an emerging school of thought which purports to use Octahedron as an example of this theory, portraying the body of work from Omar and Cedric as blundering infinity - an endlessly spewing sewage hole of unintelligible spazztastic, progressive nonsense, and viewing Octahedron as a diamond in the rough for its more conventional reliance on prog-ballad structures. We can already see hints of this, with Pitchforkmedia indirectly declaring it the first Mars Volta album worthy of breaking past a 5.0 rating. But don't believe these doubters. As much as the band might have gone off the deep end with The Bedlam in Goliath, it's hard to imagine this radio-friendly album being successful on any level without its influences from the brainy Afro-brothers' prior experimentations. The fact is, based on the songs themselves, Octahedron is pretty damn boring. It's King Crimson balladry 101 through and through, and on long-winded snoozers like "Copernicus" or "With Twilight As My Guide", there's no denying it. The reason it works as well as it does is not because of Cedric's new reliance on his singing voice, nor is it because of the scaling down of overlong track lengths in favor of identifiable song structures. It's the unconventionality that made Bedlam in Goliath so unmemorable that gets the job done on Octahedron.

The difference is a matter of degree. The Mars Volta has never been more subtle with their psychedelic explorations as they are now, and while it may not reach the peaks of their more brain-melting sound, it's definitely a refreshing change of pace that the Drive Like Jehu-influenced acid-drenched guitars and free-jazz undercurrents of "Luciforms" are just identifiable enough to suggest discomfort but not so obvious as to inspire nausea. Similarly, the hallucinatory electronic rhythms of "Teflon" and the teetering walls of jagged riffage of "Halo of Nembutals" never overtake the basic songwriting chops, but are engaging enough to make us forget there isn't much songwriting here we haven't from these guys in the first place. Overall, unlike most of Bedlam, there's very little on Octahedron that feels like a product of random chance. Like The Mars Voltas best work, its success clearly required a delicate balancing act, and those who are usually so quick to dismiss the bands pretensions may find it a lot harder to deny them here. Read more...

Tortoise - Beacons of Ancestorship (2009)

2.5 ★/5.0 - 5.9

Tortoise have always been a band of extremes. Their worst tracks have precisely showcased what's wrong with bands who become obsessed with texture for texture's sake, while their best tracks have probably aged better than any other Post Rock bands, and on every one of their albums you can find at least one example of both. Beacons of Ancestorship is no exception. "Northern Something" is the most listless dubscrape collage they could have made, but coming after something as direct, immediate and driving as the Apparat Organ Quartet homage, "Prepare Your Coffin", who could complain? The extended four-song lapse into dullness triggered by mindless math-punk fusion, "Yinxianghechengqui" may seem unforgivable...until the profound guitar figures and cinematic synth flourishes reveal "Charteroak Foundation" to be the band's best album closer yet.

The problem with Tortoise is that they appear so immersed in progress all the time, and so constantly trying to develop, change and experiment as a band, that it's impossible to find any work of theirs that sticks with a sound and style long enough to leave an impression. Albums like TNT, Standards and Millions Now Living..., as great as they are, will always be held back by the fact that they sound like a band still trying to figure out how to sound, including all of their studio experiments on the final product just to show it, and Beacons suffers tenfold from this. Still though, the band's most homogenous and musically focused album of their career, It's All Around You, was arguably one of their weakest, so perhaps being in a constant state of flux is the best thing for them. Indeed, the best tracks of Beacons are the most progressive ones (The shifting structures of "High Class Slim Came Floatin' In" and "Gigantes", in particular) and many long-term Tortoise fans will probably praise the album as a "return to form," in terms of aesthetic. It was inevitable that one of the major 90's post-rock powerhouses would become this irrelevant by the end of the decade, but at least you could say that, in a musical climate where so many bands have stolen and improved upon their formula, Tortoise still haven't sacrificed their integrity, ideals and adventurism. Read more...

Wu-Tang Clan - The W (2000)

3.5 ★/7.0 - 7.9

"I must tell you...the clan is a danger to the public...For many men...just to hear of the name fills them with hate and loathing"

"But why? They never hurt anyone!"

"I'm afraid they did...in the past..."

Indeed wise sensei, there once was a time when Wu-Tang striked terror in the souls of even the strongest soldiers. Circa 1999, however, the Wu namesake had lost quite a bit of it's credibility. Each individual member was being watered down and compromised; Method Man had completely sold his soul to Def Jam, long-awaited debuts by Inspectah Deck and U-God turned out to be bland affairs and equally anticipated follow ups to classics by GZA and Raekwon barely featured RZA beats at all, preferring other, less impressive, producers.

Perhaps it was the popularity and hype of Wu-Tang Forever that went to the group's head. If so, however, the quiet release of The W should have been a good sign to fans who might have been disillusioned with the band. Even the cover suggests a less bloated and egotistical focus than Forever, trading in the image of the immense group lined up across the map of a globe, plotting their takeover, for a simple Wu logo looming over a single, plain W. From the first four tracks, this expected "return to form" seems inevitable. Kung Fu samples and analogies feature prominently, the MCs sound recharged and the Rza's signature skeletal sound from 36 Chambers is updated and revamped in way that makes it hit just as hard as it used to. "Careful (Click Click)", in particular, is a murky masterpiece; a swirling collage of vintage sound effects and disturbing minimalism. You also won't hear any complaints here about the lack of ODB. Never mind whether you can stand his crack-addled insanity or not; if his sole contribution, "Conditioner", is any indication, the album benefited from his absence. Without his inconsistent humor, most of the album prefers suffocating atmosphere and cinematic grime, coming off as dark, edgy and fresh as the cover's pitch-black background.

Yet somewhere along the line, The W still becomes just as scattered as its predecessor. You can't help but cringe when Junior Reid's Jamaican-accented voice kicks in on "One Blood Under W". Remember when the band took pride in their "beef with commercial ass-niggas"? They hypocritically become their own worst enemies with a track like this and especially "Gravel Pit". What's most frustrating about the latter, is that the band seems to build it into some sort of earth-shattering centerpiece, giving it an intro where RZA himself hypes it up, and even having it speak for the entire album by releasing it as a single. But all that's delivered is a cartoonish, flinstone-beat, a string of tired shout-outs, and an apathetically sung, generic hook for the chorus.

"Are we safe from the clan, father?"

"Yes, young one...for now...the Clan may have the strongest techniques, but they still haven't sharpened their swords after so many years of usage...just beware!...the Wu-Tang still appears dangerous...they may return to full power soon..."

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Mono - Hymn To The Immortal Wind (2009)

4.5 ★/9.0 - 9.9

It's easy to understand how Mono has never quite achieved the same level of respect as their post-rock forefathers. There's already been far too many post-rock bands in pretty much every corner of the world, pounding into our heads their philosophy of quiet-loud-quiet dynamics, pushing the limits of epic instrumentals, and for the longest time, yet another Mogwai copycat didn't seem necessary. Even up to last year's (mostly) acclaimed You Are There, it was easy to say that Mono were essentially doing for Post-Rock what Bush was doing for Grunge - introducing the world to a third tier of third-rate artists, in the interest of record companies trying to capitalize on popular musical trends.

But Hymn To The Immortal Wind is a different beast altogether. Perhaps it's the new instrumentation. You Are There didn't even try to step out of Explosions in The Sky's established formula and consequently suffered for it. When they did use instrumentation other than guitars on that album, it felt like they could have just as easily been using more guitars. But enlisting a full-fledged orchestra for their follow-up was the best move they could have possibly done. Songs are clearly written with the new instruments and their capabilities in mind, making the band's usual sound feel much more natural and vital, rather than contrived and redundant. For example, the stunning opener, "Ashes in The Snow" is based on gentle twinkling of glockenspiels, lending actual weight to the layers of guitar riffs, and the swells of strings that accompany the sweeping chords turn what could've easily been another boring exercise into something genuinely affecting. The second half of the same song, meanwhile, sounds like a beautiful collaboration between Ennio Morricone and Hans Zimmer.

So, obviously, before tagging Hymn... as "another post rock" album, expect to encounter traces of hesitation, because the music within shares far more in common with modern classical music. Admittedly, bands like Sigur Ros and Godspeed You Black Emperor may have already laid claim to such intentions, and that's probably why one would think that Hymn..., no matter how good it might be, couldn't possibly reach the same heights as those aforementioned bands. But neither them nor their followers have created anything quite as cinematic as Mono has here. The mind-splitting opener, and the similarly breathtaking closer, "Everlasting Light" (which is every bit as beautiful as it sounds), are worth the price of admission alone, but there are 5 tracks sandwiched in between them, and almost all of them are just as good. Hymn To The Immortal Wind is a startlingly consistent labor of love, crafted track-for-track with a single goal in mind; to show that, even when Post-Rock dies, genuinely moving instrumental music will always be around, fulfilling man's primal need for meaning and capturing the deepest, most romantic emotions through sound-paintings that continually ebb, flow and soar into the stratosphere. Read more...

The Hold Steady - Stay Positive (2008)

4.5 ★/9.0 - 9.9

I highly doubt there will ever be a band I enjoy listening to more than The Hold Steady. Yes, there are many more talented and versatile bands out there. After all, at the end of the day, The Hold Steady still prefer to describe themselves simply as "Bar Rock", and none of their albums have broken any grounds or anything. But never question their ambition, which has proven itself to be far wider than your everyday bar band. Just listen to the chorus gang shouts and "larger-than-life" bridge of "Constructive Summer". Better yet, just read the lines that Craig Finn is sneering: "We’re gonna build something, this summer! We’ll put it back together - raise up a giant ladder with love, and trust, and friends, and hammers!" There should be no surprise that they're now on Vagrant, sharing their space with artists like Alkaline Trio and Dashboard Confessional. When you figure out the reason why Craig Finn references drinking so much in his songs, his intentions suddenly appear pretty close to Chris Carrabba's. He just wants to get everyone singing along. And with soaring anthems as huge and catchy as "Yeah Sapphire" and "Magazines", his success is practically guaranteed.

Still, when 2009 is coming to its end, Boys And Girls In America is probably going to be looked back on as one of the greatest, straight-up "Rock" albums of the decade, so regardless of how shamelessly enjoyable Stay Positive is, how exactly does it fit into the band's rapidly growing legacy? Both in terms of quality and sound, the answer is somewhere between Separation Sunday and Boys and Girls, although leaning more towards the latter. Plenty of moments touch upon the ragtag, sinister-sounding narratives of the former (see the apocalyptic acoustic passages of "Both Crosses", or the chugging, minor-keyed "Joke About Jamaica"), but overall, thanks to tracks like "Sequestered In Memphis" and the brilliantly anthemic closer, "Slapped Actress", most listeners will probably associate it more with the throwback arena rockers of Boys and Girls. Another reason Stay Positive seems unable to be detached from its predecessor is that the album structure is identical. The driving "Navy Sheets" is comfortably placed as track four, where the same-minded "Same Kooks" sat on Boys And Girls. And instead of "First Night" calming things down after a lightning-charged burst of energy, the equally affecting "Lord I'm Discouraged" functions as the obligatory ballad.

However, rather than come off as redundant, Stay Positive benefits from the blueprint laid out for it. 40 minutes and 11 tracks is an extremely effective format for an album, and while The Hold Steady probably ran the risk of criticism by cutting it so close to their recent-past triumph, the immediacy and craft of almost every single song is undeniable, regardless of what form it's in. Stay Positive is The Hold Steady's least conceptual and adventurous album yet, but it's also their most unabashedly enjoyable one, and besides Boys And Girls, their most consistent one, securing their reputation as the greatest Rock band alive. Read more...

Aesop Rock - Bazooka Tooth (2003)

4.0 ★/8.0 - 8.9

"Hey Aes, how's it going?"

"EVOLUTIONARYREVOLUTIONARYSPINNINGCRABCAKESINTOWILLIAMTELL'S WHIPPERSNAPPERPIGSNATCHERSLOWBREATHINGFASTFEEDINGFRENZY INTERBREEDINGTHEDAVINCIPINNOCHIOSCISSORHANDSLIKEALONELYBRO RIMSHOTHOBOCLOCKBIFOCALDIVERSIONSINHORATIO'SINTRAVERSIONS BELLIGERENTHODGEPODGENARCISSISTDEVELOPMENTINTOMISHMASH HOGWASHINTRICATEINTERGALACTICSUPERCALIFRAGILISTICTYCOONSWOON MOONCHARACTERLESSMIRRORLESSPREPOSTEROUSMONSTEROUS TYRANOSAURUSEXPIALIDOCIOUS"

"err..."

Remember when Aesop would at least say hi before pummeling you with poetry? The Def Jux-signature style confrontation has usually worked because the artists would lull you into their nightmarish constructs first, and what's more, they would always know when to relent. But Bazooka Tooth doesn't even take the slightest moment to do that, throwing you head-first into pandemonium and never stopping. Triumphing as one of the densest albums ever recorded (possibly second only to Fantastic Damage), it finds the much respected, nasal-voiced underground poet taking his already excessively-complex lyrical style into previously unheard-of levels of incomprehensibility, while shifting his flow and personality as well. Once a weary, world traveler, delivering words of wisdom in a relaxed, detached manner, Aes now sounds positively pissed, aggressively sputtering coked out, yet highly literate, battle raps. Furthermore, unlike Labor Days, where beats were mostly made by somber classicist, Blockhead, Bazooka Tooth features Aes himself primarily handling production duties and crafting beats that are far more tuneless, glitchy and in your face. Just as it sounds, the net result of all these shifts in style is an album that comes off as highly influenced by the rest of the Def Jux label, particularly in emulation of its star pupil, El-P. The influential producer even uses the centerpiece space for his own feud with Esoteric, featuring the scathing diss-rap and album highlight, "We're Famous".

But through its quest to pay homage to the "def jux sound", Bazooka Tooth overlooks having something original to say for itself. What's more is that it reveals a problem as common in underground rap as the lack of talent is in mainstream hip hop; failure to realize that making something inaccessible and obscure doesn't necessarily translate into good music. Tracks like "The Greatest Pac-Man Victory in History" and "Mars Attacks" prove this with pounding webs of jarring percussion and half-assed concepts that both fail to engage. Similarly, most of Bazooka Tooth is exhausting and the amount of effort required to appreciate it fully isn't always worth it.

Sure though, the reasons to hear Bazooka Tooth far outweigh its flaws. Mainly, the material speaks for itself; the hilarious horn-laden "Cook It Up", the militaristic drums of "No Jumper Cables", the fat atmosphere of "Super Fluke", the slinky electronics of "Easy", the drooping horror of "Babies With Guns", the jerking subtleties of "Kill The Messenger" and the list goes on and on. On a simple track-for-track basis, the album is as consistent as one should expect from Aesop Rock and his wordplay is still miles ahead of every other rapper alive. Chances are you won't return to Bazooka Tooth as much as you will Labor Days or Float, and depending on how you listen to music, that might be saying something. But for those fascinated by the impenetrable and with plenty of headphone time to spare, it won’t make a difference. This is quality underground rap and there’s no denying it. Read more...

Beck - Stereopathic Soul Manure (1994)

1.5 ★/3.0 - 3.9

In 1999, Sonic Enemy Records remastered Beck's cassette debut on CD without his permission. When Beck found out, he was furious, and the company halted production. Of course, within the first ten seconds of the opening track, it becomes apparent why. Golden Feelings sounds like it was recorded by a belligerent drunk. But could you blame Sonic Enemy for releasing such an inane recording into a discography that includes something as grating and befuddling as Stereopathic Soul Manure?

Beck is right, however, in that Stereopathic Soul Manure has something that most poorly performed, lo-fi rubbish doesn't (his own included). All the grating, completely pointless noise and talentless acoustic mish-mashing of Golden Feelings is here, but it's been enhanced by an undeniable sense of humor and charm. I challenge you to listen to that nervous runt deliver his ridiculous bullshit stories ("8.6.62", "11.6.45", "8.4.82") without laughing out loud or the witty hoe-down, "Satan Gave Me A Taco" without smiling extensively. Some might say the fact that there's actually some genuine attempts at songs here is what makes it worth hearing, but I'd counter that simple songs like "Rowboat", "Modesto" and "The Spirit That Moves Me" are just as forgettable in their cleanly-recorded, country stylings as "One Foot In The Grave" is in its pedestrian blues or "Tasergun" in its listless sludge. No, the real reason to listen to Stereopathic Soul Manure at all, is to hear a man's story of finding an unopened bottle of beer by a dead wild cat, or to hear Beck's priceless Ozzy Osbourne imitation. But seeing as how it is the music we're dealing with here... Read more...

Caribou - Andorra (2007)

4.0 ★/8.0 - 8.9

Like most musical artists, Daniel Snaith aims to use sound to express emotions. But coming from a genre that's known for it's disregard of humanity (IDM) and possessing a songwriting style that's appropriate for such a background, this has to be quite the challenge. The disconnect between the title of his last album and the sounds within only further proves that. If Daniel had any sincerity with titling his debut as Caribou, The Milk of Human Kindness, it was completely lost on the album's contents; sterile, Krautrock-rooted jamming and genre-hopping nods to record geeks.

The sound of his follow-up however, suggests that maybe the two album names just got mixed up on Daniel's cutting room floor. There's far more "human milk," so to speak, on the first two tracks of Andorra than on the entirety of its prequel. Admittedly, tracks like "Sundialing" and "Niobe" are still tightly constructed with precise, unforgiving rhythms and intensely satisfying build-ups, and electronics still form the basis for most of these songs (See the brilliantly sampled and looped "doo doo doos" of "She's The One"). But whereas the debut came off as mechanical and unforgiving, Andorra's sun soaked glory manages to express something much more than the sum of it's precise polyrhythms and calculated constructs.

Or perhaps it's much less, because if you trek through it's computer driven dense noodling looking for the source of it's humanity, you'll overlook that Andorra is just a plain fun record, filled with Zombies-style sunshine pop, soaring choruses and outlooks as simple as "love is nice". Maybe that's why it works. It sounds as if Daniel came to terms with what he could and couldn't express with his style, and made a rational compromise; to perfectly match his superficial backdrops with equally superficial emotions, crafting an album that's bursting with signs of organic growth and moments of beautiful grace. Read more...

Nine Inch Nails - Pretty Hate Machine (1989)

4.5 ★/9.0 - 9.9

Since day one, Trent Reznor has always been a better producer and songwriter than a front-man and performer. His background in theater clumsily translated into a career plagued by an unhealthy fixation on melodrama. Even Reznor's biggest supporters have probably always had a hard time defending the most frequent criticism of Nine Inch Nails, and especially Pretty Hate Machine: the abysmal lyrics. Usually, skeptics of the landmark industrial-crossover album will avoid dealing with any of the music (mainly because it's near-perfect), and instead whip out a list of the lyrical-sheet's biggest offenders, which falls to the floor and consists of at least one line on every single track; "how can you treat me like this, after you taught me how to kiss", "slipping on the tears you've made me cry", "grey would be the color, if I had a heart", "I still dream of lips I never should have never kissed" (Reznor seems to have a 3'rd graders obsession with kissing), and a host of other "cat-in-the-hat-delivered-by-an-angsty-leather-clad-teenage-goth-isms" are inherent in Reznor's delivery, making all his brooding and shouting feel a little cartoonish. As a matter of fact, on "Something I Can Never Have", where his voice is front-and-center, driving the entire minimalist ballad, it almost becomes too much to handle, and when you realize that Reznor would go on to craft much more subtle and affecting ballads thereafter ("Hurt", "Another Version of The Truth", "Lights in The Sky"), this song becomes an enormous, overlong pitfall disrupting the otherwise flawless sequencing of everything else. Of course, to like Nine Inch Nails at all, you have to embrace the infantile nature of Reznor's poetry, but even after doing so, Pretty Hate Machine can never quite rise above a near-masterpiece because of that steaming pile of failure in the center.

But Pretty Hate Machine is still a 'near-masterpiece'. The usage of keyboards, electronics and digital noise exhibited in almost every moment of the album are what make it one of the high points of 80's production, and while that means that listening to the album today makes it feel a little dated, like most of keyboard-heavy music from the decade, it doesn't change the fact that, for its time, this fusion of industrial, pop and dance was unique and breathtaking. The first 3 lead-off tracks and singles all exhibit brilliant hooks on the surface, urban polyrhythms under the exterior, and generally brilliant composition, while the electro-punk of "Sin", dramatic changes of "That's What I Get" and punchy slap-bass driving the infectious grooves of "Sanctified" and "The Only Time" push the album into classic status.

Over time, Reznor's studio wizardry would proceed to evolve and get even better in some ways, while his over-the-top delivery would stick around and fester. But no matter what changes he would proceed through (or avoid), whether for good (Year Zero) or bad (The Fragile), the Nine Inch Nails moniker would never achieve quite the same muscularity and consistency it captured here. Read more...

The Decemberists - The Hazards of Love (2009)

4.5 ★/9.0 - 9.9

Now this is the way that artists should do things; an organic evolution with a constant slope and none of that inconsistent ducking and playing around with genres and style variations that almost every band seems to go through at some point in their career. The Decemberists are too professional for that. They had been hinting at something like Hazards of Love for almost a decade, with each new chapter in their discography taking things slightly deeper, at a pace of change that has been so gradual and delicate that it hardly feels like there's been a change at all. The move from their early-period Neutral Milk Hotel-isms to the multi-suite songs of their mid-period career never once felt self-conscious, and their next leap into straight-ahead prog on The Tain and The Crane Wife was equally level-headed. Every step felt like a goal, and the following step forward would only serve to reveal the last stage as transitional. But now we finally arrive at an end-point - A full length, full fledged Rock Opera. Of course, there still might be something beyond this. Perhaps this is just yet another a step to something even bigger (if such a beast of an album is even possible). But for now that hardly matters, because the resulting LP is a joy to listen to. The band was once just sitting in the shadow of Jeff Magnum's fully realized folk project, but now they've stepped out of it and offered a sprawling near-masterpiece of their own, that even stands toe to toe with In The Aeroplane Over The Sea at a handful of moments.

Those moments include the beautiful title track, the jagged and chilling lead single, "The Rake Song", which describes, in horrifying detail, mass infanticide, and the beautifully grandioise finger picking of "Margaret in Captivity". More brilliance crops up in "Won't Want For Love", "Repaid" and "The Queen's Rebuke/The Crossing", which all take sensational cues from Black Sabbath, lurching and overflowing with ravaged distortion that perfectly matches the anger of Meloy's various characters at key moments, and both versions of "The Wanting Comes In Waves," housing one of the album's greatest hooks (second only to the spine-tingling chorus of the passionate and fiery "Annan Water").

But before the end of this review, apologies must be made for the NMH references, because it's a tad misleading. There's nothing "indie" about The Hazards of Love. This is pure Prog, without any compromises, and when it does give in, as on the conventional structure and corny ending of the last track, the album falters. The best thing about Colin Meloy's songwriting is how its simplicity and immediacy allows all the complimentary jamming, charming instrumentation and storytelling prowess to come naturally, and the first 16 tracks deliver that in spades, creating a fun catalog of Now That's What I Call 70's Prog that deserves to be replayed and memorized note by note, line by line, like all the best Rock Operas. Read more...

Sunset Rubdown - Random Spirit Lover (2007)

3.5 ★/7.0 - 7.9

When it comes to Wolf Parade, Spencer Krug has made the band for me and not just because of the absolutely perfect song that is "I'll Believe in Anything". His style of songwriting is just more dense. Boeckner is the brute of the band and Spencer Krug is the poet. This is even clearer when you compare Boeckner's band, The Handsome Furs to Krug's band, Sunset Rubdown. Whereas the former band's album from this same year is the sound of simple pleasures (hooks and synths, oh boy!), Krug takes the high-art route.

Lyrically, he's clearly a storyteller of the highest order, in full control of his densely packed imagination, singing of fantastic worlds inhabited by aristocrats, royalty, magicians and tricksters. Disturbingly cryptic imagery surround each songs' brief stretches of beautifully yearning sincerity, forming a dense labyrinth of lines that will have you reading deeply into the lyrics sheet in ways that few, besides Jeff Magnum perhaps, inspire one to do. But furthermore, unlike the sometimes underwhelming Shut Up I Am Dreaming, the compositions here soundtrack the unpredictability of his freakshow-theater lines perfectly. These songs are ragged yet enormous, spiraling, inspiring, and stunning in their ability to balance intimacy with power. A full minute of trash can percussion, spinning layers of a capella vocals and some of Krugs' most vulgar phrasings unexpectedly erupts into a melody that never leaves your head on "The Courtesans Have Sung". "Stallion" casually creaks and cackles disturbingly under it's woozy piano and dissonant guitar riffs, while "Trumpet, Trumpet, Toot!" basically ascends for 5 minutes straight. But "Magic Vs. Midas" is where the breaths really get taken away. Coming after the sensational rocket-car guitars and feverishly anthemic passages of "The Mending of The Gown", the song is perfect; a comfortably settled series of delicate metaphors, acoustic pickings and charmingly ramshackle crescendos, all held together by some of the greatest poetry of the decade. It's genuinely tragic that the song writing gets just a tad too obtuse in parts of the album's second half. Had Krug treated some of the later slow tracks and transitions ("Setting Vs. Rising", "Child-Heart Losers", sections of "Colt Stands Up, Grows Horns") with the same memorable craft as his centerpieces, this could have been something really special, perhaps even surpassing Wolf Parade's last big release. As it stands though, Random Spirit Lover still contains some of the most magical moments you can find in indie rock today. Read more...

The Yeah Yeah Yeahs - It's Blitz! (2009)

3.0 ★/6.0 - 6.9

It's almost too obvious that The Yeah Yeah Yeahs should never have gotten as big as they did after Fever To Tell. The problem is that Karen O and company have always sounded best when you could hear their filthy NYC garage background (see the early EPs). Nick Zinner's monstrous razor-blade guitar, Brian Chase's precise yet minimalist drumset and Karen O's desperate shrieks captured a sound that was positively vital at the time. On their debut LP, emotive tracks like "Maps" and "Y Control" worked because they were the exceptions and therefore managed to deepen the bands signature cacophony. But instead of using that as a stepping stone, they foolishly made it a blueprint and stumbled into a field that was dominated by countless bands already. Show Your Bones was Alternative Radio 101; as inoffensive and utterly lifeless as it could possibly be without actually being bad.

So that's why it might be hard to shake off the feeling of disappointment from It's Blitz. Even if their song-craft has improved from their last effort, the bottom line is that they're still stumbling in the wrong field for them and it couldn't be more obvious since they're now messing with Electro Pop and New Wave. Ultimately, the best thing to take away from It's Blitz is that, with a mastermind as consistently brilliant as David Sitek behind the board, they could easily get back on track at any time. His noisy, mind-blowing studio magic tricks are what make The Yeah Yeah Yeahs unambitious vision on It's Blitz worth hearing. The dangerously radiating laser beam synths on "Zero", the noisy wall of majestically towering sound on "Skeletons", the backwards yawning on "Soft Shock", the staccato horns coming in at the end of "Hysteric" and the twin fluttering guitars on dance-punk beast, "Dragon Queen", all seem to benefit from the cues they take from last years' major album of the year, Dear Science. But therein lies the problem. Ultimately, this is just a watered down version of Dear Science. Whenever Sitek steps back to let the front-people do their thing, The Yeah Yeahs Yeahs hardly distinguish themselves. Sure, they've got an ear for a hook or two, and Karen O still sounds great, but a braver band wouldn't waste their time dramatizing new age stinkers like "Heads Will Roll" or "Little Shadow", grandstanding on the overlong "Runaway" or dulling up the already-dull "Dull Life" with a series of power chords The Offspring wouldn't mind using. The band deserves credit for trying something new, as well as crafting an album that feels fully formed, but once you strip away the gloss and sheen from the highlights, this is a hollow indie-lite affair. Read more...

Red Light Company - Fine Fascination (2009)

4.0 ★/8.0 - 8.9

There's no denying it; Youth is wasted on the young. Of course, many would beg to differ with various, perhaps legitimate, arguments. Acne, raging hormones, drama, high school, living with the parents, locker room antics and regularly following regrettable fads in order to "fit in", are all things that we, as adults, are probably glad to have gotten out of the way early. But then there's that intangible spark of idealistic longing that, over time, through the pain of responsibility, hardens into cynicism. The absence of that is a little more tragic, and Fine Fascination fulfills the very basic need to relive those past glories and optimistic times. The album is utterly charming for the way it perfectly captures the nature of youth, complete with sneering boyish vocals, hopeful crescendos, and a musical slant towards immediate pleasures; soul-affirming, arena-rock gestures and pop hooks. Seeing as how Los Campesinos! and, to a certain extent, Frightened Rabbit, beat them to the punch last year, the album will probably be extensively criticized for lack of originality. Quoted from the lines of one of the exuberant centerpieces, "The Architect", Red Light Company can mimic and deliver, but they don't really know how. Still, they only fail in the endearing way that most teens usually do; earnestly reaching for the stars, without the slightest clue about how far away they actually are. Fine Fascination still triumphs as a consistently satisfying 40 minutes of wistfulness, from the jagged bar rock of "Words Of Spectacular" to the rumbling bass, space and explosive climax of "When Everyone is Everybody Else". Whip out your lighters, warm up your air guitar skills and prepare for some quality nostalgia. Read more...

MF Doom - Born Like This (2009)

4.5 ★/9.0 - 9.9

Daniel Dumille truly is a villain. After almost four years of terrorizing his fans with inactivity and rumors of imposters on stage at his shows, he finally drops an album self-described as "encapsulating but surpassing all of his previous work", and it turns out to be nothing more than a glorified compilation! But wait, since when did calling something a compilation become a criticism? Don't compilations benefit from being able to take the absolute best of an artist's career and tie them into a single listening experience? Green Day's major compilation album, International Superhits remains their most acclaimed album, even better than what many may consider their masterpiece, Dookie. Similarly, Born Like This triumphs as a simple collection of some of Doom's best ideas in the past 4 years of dormancy.

Certainly though, the villain has had albums with much better beats than this. There's not quite a "Rap Snitch Knishes" on Born Like This nor anything that compares to the better half of King Geedorah's Take Me To Your Leader (although a handful of tracks get pretty close, such as "Still Dope," featuring a typically vicious performance by Empress Stahhr), but Doom makes up for the lack of an obvious centerpiece with simple consistency. From start to finish, there's barely any weak tracks. "Gazillion Ear" is as fascinating as J Dilla ever got, featuring a puzzling side step into lush spirals of middle-eastern synths, "Cellz" perfectly traverses the tightrope between silly and terrifying and "Absolutely" finds Madlib toying with a beautifully relaxing drone, and getting mouths watering for a true Madvillainy sequel. Initially, a couple of the Jake One produced tracks appear to be low points, such as "Microwave Mayo" or "More Rhymin," but over time they become simple pleasures; understated, catchy and functioning as essential transition tracks with subtle intricacies that move the album forward. Besides, Jake One more than pays his dues in terms of immediacy with his instant classic single, "Ballskin," as well as the subterranean, pounding "Rap Ambush".

Yes, some of these tracks have been used before. Yes, the snare that's been added to the otherwise brilliant Ghostface collaboration, "Angelz," couldn't be more distracting. And yes, "Bumpy's Message" is completely pointless. But all of the inconsistencies, random inclusions, and hodgepodge elements are what makes it so definitively Doom. Such arbitrary recklessness has always been an essential part of the Dumille persona and to criticize any single album of his for that haphazard quality is to miss his point of his "villain" aesthetic. If you disconnect yourself from any preconceived notions of what should go into a perfectly constructed album, then Born Like This quickly reveals itself to be one of Dumille's many shining moments; a brilliant epilogue to one of the most prolific and rewarding careers in hip hop today. Read more...

Clipse - Lord Willin' (2002)

3.5 ★/7.0 - 7.9

The Neptunes have been beat geniuses since they jumped on the scene, but the next big step in staking a truly significant piece of the global producers pie, is always to get behind the board of an entire album from start to finish. Sure enough, in 2002, riding on the hype of songs by Jay-Z, Mystikal, Britney Spears and countless others, they contributed all of their talents to the debut of Clipse, even going as far as to make their own record label for its release. However, as a first chapter, it's a little disjointed. On Lord Willin, The Neptunes signature style is still miles ahead of the copycats it once inspired, but when stretched across the course of a full album, the mainstream cliches it's mired in becomes a little too obvious, especially on overtly exhibitionist tracks like "Ego" or "Gangsta Lean". Of course, the Neptunes' missteps with those tracks might have been forgivable if rappers, Malice and Pusha T, didn't swagger their obnoxious gangsterisms so boisterously. Discordantly delivered choruses like "Don't let cha ego trick yo ass, cause this muthafuckin tech will get yo ass" completely eclipse Pharrell and Chad's consistent sense of high quality production, exposing their attachment to the genres' stereotypes and making the listening experience a little mundane.

Still, whenever the MC duo reigns in their "in-your-face" attitude, their incessant boasting and one-dimensional, gritty tales of drug dealing actually showcase some serious wit. What Malice and Pusha T seem to overlook is that their voices already sound menacing as hell without even trying. When they make any further effort to increase the rage, it's just sounds over the top. Thankfully, they don't resort to those extreme gestures too often, allowing The Neptunes to generate their usual gorgeous strut-offs ("Ma, I Don't Love Her"), easy going smoke-offs ("Virginia"), a lush urban anthem ("I'm Not You") and a bunch of tracks that are quite enjoyable, despite the lack of replay value. Plus, there's the unstoppable singles, featuring two of the greatest beats the Neptunes have ever put to tape. "When The Last Time" is a refreshing slice of limb-jerking, inner-city tension, although it definitely boasts a hook of some sort, even if the squawking synths would sound positively dissonant if isolated. But there's no easy way into "Grindin", a song that needs to be heard at max volume, cruising in a car with heavy bass sub-wafers and all the windows rolled down. The beat is a skeleton without any flesh; subterranean mouth pops kick in for the chorus, but otherwise it gets by with nothing but hand claps, finger snaps and shutting metallic doors. It's a song that was clearly made to consume, cause chaos and inspire rebellion. Pump the stereo and submit yourself to the insanity. Read more...

New Found Glory - Not Without A Fight (2009)

2.5 ★/5.0 - 5.9

It might be hard to admit, but most of the tracks on New Found Glory's self titled album and their follow up, Sticks And Stones are extremely catchy, accomplished pop punk, with hooks and chainsaw guitar riffs that appeal just as much to fans of Journey and power-pop as much as they would to teenage mallrats and fangirls making the transition from boy bands to "real" music. And because of those endlessly replayable arena rock anthems, I will openly admit to counting New Found Glory among a mental list of bands whose releases I keep up with. There's also all the fond memories of reckless youthful abandon that I associate with those albums. I grew up listening to interchangeable, dumb, trashy pop-punk like this and while there are so many reasons to hate it, I find myself coming back to it time and time again for the nostalgia.

Ordinarily, at this point in the review, I would explain in what way this tangent about the bands' earlier works is relevant to their newest release. Unfortunately, that wasn't my intention. The fact is, there is nothing to talk about with this album. It's just the same old shit, with a quarter of the vitality the band once had. They were once dependably second rate, but now they're more like fourth or fifth. I was just ranting about their old material, because when faced with music this redundant, boring and predictable, the only thing I can do is curl up into my bubble of security and struggle to recall a time when pop-punk was everything to me. Expect to do the same when your fondest memories of the past get shat all over by the depressing reality of the present. Read more...

The Jesus Lizard - Liar (1992)

4.0 ★/8.0 - 8.9

David Yow hates you. You probably didn't do anything to him, but rest-assured, he's already plotting to do horrific things to you and your dog. He's the kind of guy you don't want to run into on the street. He's the raving lunatic you see in the back of the bus, muttering expletives and twitching. He's the infected from 28 Days Later, coughing up blood and violently reaching for the nearest life form to savagely murder. And on Liar he treats everyone like they've just spit in his face. From the moment the album begins with the vicious "Boilermaker", he plows down the front door in a violent flurry of raving nonsense. Hard to stomach? You bet. But for the abrasive brutality conjured up throughout this album, his voice is perfect.

Liar is military in it's execution and relentlessness. It hits harder and more precisely than it's predecessor, resembling a sniper rifle, rather than the widespread shotgun-like chaos of Goat. In other words, The Jesus Lizard and their style of staccato insanity have never been tighter. Tracks like the pummeling "Art Of Self Defense" and "Boilermaker", with it's gattling gun style guitar breaks, define manic and driving. There's also the interesting stylistic variations that Goat was known for, such as "Rope", a frantic rodeo in hell; "Whirl", a dizzying trip through a demented circus funhouse; and "Puss", which is practically a pop song. But Liar doesn't quite match the brilliance of Goat because it seems to trail off near the end. "Zachariah" is an admirable attempt at slowing down that falls flat and "Dancing Naked Ladies" starts off nicely, but feels disappointing when it doesn't go anywhere. Still, it's The Jesus Lizard's angriest release and one of their best. If you need a soundtrack for going on a killing spree, this is it. Read more...