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...

Funkadelic - One Nation Under A Groove (1978)

4.0 ★/8.0 - 8.9

Albums like these are the reasons why the term "overrated" exists. Looking at the journalistic ratings and reviews fluctuating around on the web, there seems to be very few critics who view One Nation Under a Groove as any less than a perfect album. But seriously, are these people listening to the same album I am? The title track is good but how songs like "Grooveallegiance" and "Who Says A Funk Band Can't Play Rock" went on to become fan favorites, should be classified as one of those baffling unsolved mysteries of the world, alongside Stonehenge and The Bermuda Triangle. The former is simply an awkward and meandering attempt to integrate Reggae, while the latter sounds like it was written by the cast of Sesame Street. Yeah, there are good parts in both of them (mainly the jam sections) but why in the world would anyone want to slog through the silly, forced, weakly structured songs they're attached to when there's almost no limit to the same brand of jam-band perfection in the rest of the Funkadelic discography already? However, in defense of the critical consensus, things get significantly better thereafter. Scat-Porn groove, "P.E. Squad/The Doo-Doo Chasers", is actually a lot less repulsive than it sounds. As a matter of fact, with soulful breakdowns, inspired guitar solos and hilarious one-liners it remains one of the smoothest, sexiest and most refreshingly natural tracks written under George Clinton's reign. The next two songs feel just as relaxed, and create a nearly flawless second half, that makes up for the fractured first half. Don't let the critics fool you; it's not crazy to think that every Funkadelic album released on Warner Bros. failed to reach the heights of their Westbound works...but despite its flaws and obvious attempts to replicate Parliament, One Nation Under A Groove is the sole exception, retaining a personality and coherence that definitely makes it worth owning. Still, even those who consider the album a shining light surrounded by the darkness of Funkadelic's later days, will probably have a hard time really accepting it as one of their masterpieces. Read more...

Funkadelic - Let's Take It To The Stage (1975)

3.5 ★/7.0 - 7.9

Cliffnotes: Summaries And Commentaries for Funkadelic by George Clinton

Part One: Chapter 7

Summary: George emerges out of his last particularly violent state of Psychedellic exploration drained. Realizing that another experience of that intensity would be his end, he wisely throws away the rest of his drugs, but almost immediately regrets it. Knowing that, without them, his long suppressed alter-ego, Starchild, would soon begin overtake his personality completely, he decides to embrace this brief moment of sanity, taking in worldly pleasures.

Commentary: Up to this point in George Clinton's semi-biographical magnum opus, the author has taken liberties with extended stream of consciousness rants and abrasive language in order to capture the intensity of his drug experiences. However, with George having Stood At The Verge Of Getting It On, and now beginning a brief sober period, the writer appropriately reels in the blistering words and long stretches of repetition to capture the main characters' sobriety with a more clear-headed and traditional usage of language. The result is that Clinton comes off sounding a lot more like his peer and main influence, Hendrix. While this certainly contains a wealth of pleasures in and of itself; even enough to make this one of the stronger chapters of Funkadelic (especially when compared to the bulk of Part 2: The WB Years), there's no denying that the new direction eventually falls apart, particularly near the end of the chapter when George begins to speak out of character with extended brooding. "Baby I Owe You Something", he whines to his regular prostitute, creating a scene that adds very little to his character. When he finally feels that "The Song is Familliar", the novel enters one of its weakest sections, attempting some interesting "Atmosphere" but mostly coming off as artless and clumsy. It's moments such as when George is getting "Better By The Pound", confidently asking his loved ones to "Be My Beach" and demanding his friends to "Get Off Your Ass And Jam" that we as a reader actually are interested in what becomes of him, because of how they remind us of the relentless excitement and verbal density that stayed so consistent in Funkadelic's early chapters.

Glossary:
"Let's Take It To The Stage" - A phrase that comes to symbolize George's new embrace of the populous he was once so biased against; justifiably one of the chapters' most popular quotes.
"Stuffs And Thangs" - Yet another infectiously catchy euphemism for sex. Read more...

Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion (2009)

5.0 ★/10.0

Some might say that in order to better understand Animal Collective's sound on Merriweather Post Pavilion it would've been beneficial to see them live on one of their recent tours. For about a year, the bulk of the band's sets consisted of many of the songs recorded here, so, for many hardcore fans, it might be easy to assume this is just a compilation of all of Animal Collective's best live moments; a perfect distillation of that enchanting feeling one got from watching them. Surely, if this recorded material could only be called one thing, it would be "enchanting". And the live Animal Collective experience is certainly every bit as seductive. They usually play the songs without gaps, strung together by drones and fragmentary interludes, creating the simulation of one long track. When surrounded by innumerable dancing and sweating bodies, and blinded by a hallucinatory lighting design, the music takes on a captivating element of hypnotic bliss. For this past year, watching Animal Collective live was like stepping into another world.

But to say that Merriweather Post Pavilion is just a performance document and a treat for the fans would be lessening its distinct monumental value as an album. As a matter of fact, this material could only have been made for headphones; there's just too much going on at any given moment to be properly translated with a live show. The hooks of "My Girls" are undeniable in any form, but the subtleties of the songs' erratic and gradually diversifying drum-and-bass beat was never as exhilarating as it is here. On the surface, "Guys Eyes" is a simple melody delivered with a soulful undistorted piano and stick percussion, but it takes dozens of in-depth listens to separate all the swirling layers of voices from one another. Furthermore, Pet Sounds b-side, "Bluish", was never even played live, but on the album it's clearly one of the best songs; a flawless pop centerpiece holding both halves of the album together.

It's also important to take into account that some songs don't stand up individually too well. Live, "Also Frightened" was just a messy collage of sounds and electronics but with the benefit of close listening, the groove-oriented rhythm and soaring breaks are given room to breath and fit appropriately into the sequencing. Similarly, "In The Flowers" once seemed to be a listless and underwhelming ballad, but when set as the opening track, it's perfect. The song opens with indecipherable noise, as if to signify all the obstacles from your daily life, before Avey Tare's otherworldly chants lulls you into a calm. He slyly suggests a form of relief; "If I could just leave my body for one night..." All of a sudden the band shows what he's talking about, with a blast of holy radiation. Heavenly synths rain down from the skies and the listener is drawn straight into the world of Merriweather Post Pavilion with the intention of discovering the euphoria this intro has hinted at.

With that mission statement, the rest of the album even appears to take on an almost Odysseus-like pilgrimage, which makes it resonate deeply on a conceptual level and further distinguishes it from a collection of "songs from the shows". Assuming that the tripped out album cover is not a coincidence, the album could be seen as an argument for subconscious exploration, whether that journey is embarked upon through drugs, dreams, music or any other form of therapy. The first track resembles going to sleep and entering the sub consciousness; taking the drug; beginning the album. The following eight tracks represent the deranged trip through the minds' tangled weaves with various ups and downs. The textural feast, "Daily Routine", for example, is practically a wrestling match with the self. It begins with a bright synth making noise at arbitrary intervals, taunting the listener. But it soon gels together, becoming a piercing hole in the clouds, and raining light at the end of each of Panda Bear's joyful lines, as if leading us on. At the bridge, the hole in the cloud finally stays open and widens, letting the light swallow everything up into a binding fog. The epiphany that the listener is looking for seems to almost be reached; but at this early stage of the album, it's clearly just as frightening as it is revelatory. Panda Bear's voice is malformed and surrounded by a formless haze, reverb and powerful piano chords swirling about before somberly drifting away. "Summertime Clothes", a single-worthy pop song, is much more clear-headed and positive sounding, but it's still inseparable from the mental muck; the sound of two sheets of metal being rhythmically rubbed together recreate a shroom trip, with everything moving, breathing and blurring together. "Lion in a Coma" goes on to reflect this confusion lyrically: "Sometimes I'm not aware where I am or what I care, Sometimes I'm well-to-do but I don't know what to do!" After a long stretch of fake-outs and misadventures though, a definite epiphany is reached on the simple yet beautiful "No More Runnin"...and it's surprisingly quiet. Nighttime finally falls in the mystical land of Merriweather Post Pavilion and the narrator seems ready to face his fears and challenges head on: "No more runnin...it's what I hoped for..." yawns a collection of sleepy voices in the distance. The final track, "Brothersport" takes that new initiative and charges forward with a fiery determination; straight faced optimism is abound with chants like "you've got to open up your throat!" and "You gotta have a real good time!" After a wonderful bridge in which Animal Collective get as close to Trance as they've ever gotten, the song breaks into one last orgasm of harmony. For 2 minutes, the culmination of all this soul searching is chanted repeatedly over a relentless hook: "You've got so much inside, let it come right out!" When it finally ends, don't be surprised if the colors of the world suddenly appear brighter.

But even discounting the conceptual worth of Merriweather Post Pavilion, there's something inexplicably perfect about its overall sound. Songs like "Taste", a magnetized wall of sound functioning as an electro-vaudeville carnival romp, and "Lion in a Coma", a didgeridoo led drum circle, rank among some of the most creative songs in the bands' entire library, and the fact that they're merely minor complimentary songs in the scope of the album, is a clear indicator of the bands' growth. it seems that Animal Collective has utilized all the best parts of all of their past incarnations and none of their weaknesses to craft Merriweather Post Pavilion ranging from the single-mindedness and natural drones of Feels to the Pop centered outlook and electronic gurgling of Strawberry Jam, and even collecting some of the Brian Wilson worship from Person Pitch. It's the album they've been working towards making their entire career; their Dark Side of The Moon. I mention that album (instead of the more obvious touchstone, Pet Sounds), because if Radiohead is The Beatles of the decade, then Animal Collective is the Pink Floyd. Equally critically acclaimed, the band has taken the basic elements of underground music's most popular trends, perfected them, and gone beyond, into the spaced out unknown, not only influencing countless indie and underground bands in their immediate wake, but also subtly expanding the language of all music, and allowing it to evolve organically into the 21'st century. Perfection is not a strong enough word for a band as vital as Animal Collective. Artistically, this is one of the absolute peaks of our era. Read more...