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"Issue No.4
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music Melvins Nude With Boots rocks. Buy it. This review should be that simple. But people want adjectives and run on sentences. Sometimes adverbs. If only half of the bands that have been around half as long as the Melvins could make albums half as good as this album, the world wouldn’t be half bad. King Buzzo and Dale join up with Big Business as they did on “(A) Senile Animal” — and if you heard that album, you know it was a great, great album. Well, “Nude With Boots” is even better. There’s some subtle KISS worshipping, great angular songwriting, and just enough punk rock sneer played with such divine burning execution that only a band with the stamina of the Melvins could pull it all off. This is an album that proves that with experience comes wisdom. —Ben Klebba RZA as Bobby Digital Ones and zeros, sassy vixens, the avatar Bobby Digital returns. On point — definitely the way to describe Digi Snacks. The first ten tracks are the best run RZA’s ever done on his own. The production and compositions are both exceptional, it’s the fuckin’ RZA, he can do no harm on the ones and twos. It takes a slight dip in quality at “Drama”, but the last two tracks are much better than what precedes them. If RZA had a different arsenal of guest MC’s, this may very well have been ordained “classic” status, but for that to happen it would require a full-on Wu blitz of the cipher and that would make it a Wu-Tang record right? Still, it’s nice to see RZA nail it. It’s a dope concept record, and he is in character, so to all those wack-ass critics out there — shut the fuck up. —Benjamin Hunter My Morning Jacket After four albums’ worth of steady incline, the My Morning Jacket trip to Mars takes a slight detour with the release of Evil Urges. Certainly there’s nothing wrong with trying new things, expanding the palette — that, after all, is the nature of artistic ambition. MMJ, however, have a really, really good thing going with the slightly country, majorly slamming-type throwdowns they’ve spent the past several years mastering. Curiously, Evil Urges features ill-advised forays into faux-funk and R&B, and completely evaporates the heaven-sent, reverb-soaked Jim James vocal we’ve come to love so much. This is too clean. Too shallow. My Morning Jacket is way too good to let this slow them down, however. The rebound will be exquisite, I promise you. —Andrew Watson The Hold Steady After four albums’ worth of steady incline, the My Morning Jacket trip to Mars takes a slight detour with the release of Evil Urges. Certainly there’s nothing wrong with trying new things, expanding the palette — that, after all, is the nature of artistic ambition. MMJ, however, have a really, really good thing going with the slightly country, majorly slamming-type throwdowns they’ve spent the past several years mastering. Curiously, Evil Urges features ill-advised forays into faux-funk and R&B, and completely evaporates the heaven-sent, reverb-soaked Jim James vocal we’ve come to love so much. This is too clean. Too shallow. My Morning Jacket is way too good to let this slow them down, however. The rebound will be exquisite, I promise you. —Andrew Watson Supergrass Supergrass never shot to superstardom here in the States the way they did back home in the U.K. Too young at the time of their arrival in the mid-90s to pioneer the Brit-pop movement, they played the part of proud progeny for the last decade. Definitely no longer the youngsters, Diamond Hoo Ha drops four to the floor right at the door, ready to rock. Neither the most nor least complicated of the band’s six releases, it enjoys its classic rock, daresay cocky swagger early and often (opener “Diamond Hoo Ha Man,” “Rebel In You”) before getting in good with plentiful grooves (the excellently paired “Rough Knuckles” and “Ghost of a Friend,” as well as the beautifully building finale “Butterfly”). —Eric Mitts Sigur Rós Where Sigur Rós’s previous releases relied on their listeners to fully immerse themselves in the tones and nuances of the atmospheric band’s slow builds and nonsense lyrics, Med has so much happiness instantly instilled in its abundant acoustic guitars and driving drums that right from the free-time-signature start (“Gobbledigook”) it’s hard not to think of this as a celebration. Especially following last year’s delightful documentary “Heima,” the Icelandic quartet’s glowing heart provides a light and warmth to this entire CD, even on laments like “Ára bátur,” recorded live in one take with a full orchestra in London, and the solitary “Íllgresi.” The slight lessening of the open-endedness the band had before might make the “experience” of this set not as rewarding for some, but fear not. Guitarist/vocalist Jón ór Birgisson may have set down his bow, and even his electric, for many of these songs, and even sings in English for the first time ever on the album’s last track “All Alright,” but their mesmerizing mysteriousness remains if changed. —Eric Mitts The Notwist 6 long years after the Notwist’s 2002 masterpiece Neon Golden, The Devil, You + Me, has a great sound to live up to. Neon Golden captivated the few lucky listeners who managed to get their hands on a copy with its magnificent, simplistic take on electro-pop. It is as exceptional as any record I’ve heard in the last 15 years. With their latest release, Markus Archer and company expand their brushstrokes just a bit, continuing in the same vein as their last record, but stretching their strange and beguiling sound even further. The results are astounding. The Notwist are master decorators; they specialize in dressing up simple chord progressions with luxurious, meaningful instrumentation and top-notch sampling technology, and do so in such a way as to suggest that the songs were spontaneously created. As if they just popped out sounding this beautiful. Tracks like “Good Lies” “Gloomy Planets” and “Boneless” would play like simple folk numbers in lesser hands, but with a guy like Markus Archer on vocal duties and with something called the Andromeda Mega Express Orchestra backing him up, the songs become expertly coiffed musical moments. —Andrew Watson Weezer For their third self-titled set (and sixth overall) Weezer works on what was once their biggest weakness. The last time they tried the color-scheme album, with 2001’s “Green Album,” frontman Rivers Cuomo got so obsessed with playing perfect pop-radio hits, he refused to remember the range of Weezer’s now-landmark first two releases. That disc’s disappointment differentiated Weezer 2.0 from the band’s original lineup as they’ve similarly marred most of their subsequent efforts. “Red” aims to change all that and gets off to a good start with “Troublemaker.” “The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn),” sounding something like Weezer’s stab at Green Day’s “Jesus of Suburbia,” comes just too early on the album for its own good. Had they’d plowed through the poppier “Pork and Beans” and tender, rock referential “Heart Songs” first, the song wouldn’t feel so bloated and forced down the throat. Later, when things start to drag, and the riffs sound too reminiscent (hasn’t Weezer recorded something damn near the intro to “Dreamin’” about a dozen times before?) Cuomo hands the songwriting reigns to his bandmates for three songs. Guitarist Brian Bell’s “Thought I Knew,” drummer Patrick Wilson’s “Automatic,” and “Cold Dark World,” co-penned by Cuomo and newest member/bassist Scott Shriner sound different, but with mixed results. So by the time things wind back for closer “The Angel and the One,” Cuomo’s swell of guitars gets to once again sound like a welcomed-back Weezer. —Eric Mitts Delicious RMXXOLOGY Starting with the Afrika Bambaataa influenced throwback banger “Freak-A-Zoid Robotz” by Bobby Evans, Delicious RMXXOLOGY works as a club record. Peaches’ version of Tone- Loc’s “Wild Thing” adds a refreshing female perspective to the song and brings some sweet Peaches electroclash and synth bass lines. Eminem who came up in Detroit’s horror-core scene remixes Masta Ace Incorporated’s horror-core jam “SlaughtaHouse” working it in to a pop structure. Pink Enemy and Mr. Flash’s production work is nice but their tracks work better as instrumentals. Breakbot’s version of Fatlip’s “What’s up Fatlip?” is executed nicely. The Aaron LaCrate & Debonair Samir remix of Young MC’s “Know How” brings some serious screwball club fun, check out the hilarious gutter remix video on YouTube.- —Mike Saunders N.E.R.D. Regardless of the legitimacy of The Neptunes’ genius as ground-breaking beat-makers, they have undeniably come up with some of the craziest choruses to ever catch pop attention. Seriously, “All the girls standing in the line for the bathroom,” shouldn’t work as a hip-hop hook, but on lead-off cut “Everyone Nose” they sell it like a pusher or a well-placed vending machine. One of only three songs co-written by both Neptunes, aka Pharrell Williams and Chad Hugo (Williams writes the rest alone), “Nose” exhales the sort of strange airs the hit-making production duo has made N.E.R.D.’s norm. Seeing Sounds doesn’t induce instrumental visions, but excursions like “crashing” break-up ballad “Sooner or Later” leave a lasting image of a geeky group growing. — Eric Mitt The Cool Kids Chocolate I often find myself in the unenviable position of hip hop defender, vouching for it as a still viable art form and trumpeting the too few truly outstanding acts that happen along. It’s tough, I admit, especially when 96% of what passes for rap music is, at best, vile and cruel, and at worst, amateurish and embarrassing. The Cool Kids come along at just the right time, a breath of not-so-fresh air that takes us back to the late ‘80s early ‘90s, a time when hip hop was thriving. Old school beats with new school ‘tude, rapping about bikes and gold chains and all things wonderful. Bake Sale will jive your ass. What could possibly be wrong with that? —Andrew Watson The Saturday Knights There are a lot of groups who spin hip hop over non-traditional hip hop music, but few seem to be having such a good time as The Saturday Knights. The Seattle trio, labeled “alternative hip hop” in what seems like a faute de mieux attempt to classify them, are definitely hip hop, first and foremost, but they’re quirky — the way Grand Buffet or Chromeo quirky. Clever lyrics best described as “silly” are tossed between MCs Tilson and Barfly, while DJ Suspence lays down tracks ranging from surf rock to punk to country. Definitely a summer album, Mingle’s June release means it’s just in time for driving with the windows rolled down and outside partyin’. The Saturday Knights are clearly having a good time with it; you should too. —Juliet Bennet-Rylah Fleet Foxes Robin Pecknold is only 21 years old yet he belies a spirit much older and wiser. Boasting a voice of almost unbearable purity and a taste for aching, arching acoustic passages, Pecknold and his band Fleet Foxes have crafted a debut record that pays tribute to artists many years his senior, owing heavily to the traditions set forth by artists like Gram Parsons, Brian Wilson and The Band. Blissfully unaware of whatever passes for “indie rock” these days, the Foxes sound as if they just recently emerged from a log cabin in the mountains somewhere and wandered blindly into Sub Pop HQ with a bunch of dusty reel-to-reels in tow. These tracks are informed by history, soaked in glorious sunshine and spit-shined for mass consumption. “White Winter Hymnal” is part boy’s choir part elegiac gospel pop perfection. “Your Protector” is intensely subtle yet instantly memorable in terms of melodic structure, Pecknold’s vocals leading the chorus’s bold change of key with an incredible and confident flair. And did I mention he was only 21? History will undoubtedly be kind to Fleet Foxes, as music of this nature tends to age incredibly well--check records like Music From Big Pink or Harvest if you don’t believe me. High praise, yeah, but I’m definitely not the only rock crit hurling unreasonable accolades at these youngsters. This record will show up on every single Top10 list this December, mark my words. Better yet, mark Pecknold’s words: “Wanderers this morning came by/Where did they go/Graceful in the morning light/To banner fair/To follow you softly/In the cold mountain air.” Imagine those lines delivered in an angelic tenor, and backed by the musical equivalent of a spring frost. Striking. —Andrew Watson Against Me! Against Me!’s debut on Sire Records maintains the band’s natural grittiness, encouraging their listeners to question authority and disseminating the message of change to the masses. In terms of content, New Wave has taken a decidedly different direction from the moody, self-involved darkness of Searching For a Former Clarity. The title track utilizes a moving backbeat that leads up to the first words spoken on the album: “We can control the medium. We can control the context of presentation.” This powerful song clamors for change, conveying that the control of music and pop culture is in the hands of its fans. The album doesn’t fail to deliver politically-charged tracks like “White People for Peace”, in which vocalist Tom Gabel ironically growls about the ineffectiveness of protest songs. Despite how New Wave is Against Me!’s first full length not to contain acoustic tracks, they do give us a “Summer Lovin”-esque duet between Gabel and Tegan Quinn of Tegan & Sara. —Emilee Petersmark Comprised of b-sides, early songs and tracks recorded during alternate recording sessions, No, Virginia is the companion album to Yes, Virginia… (2006). Compared to previous albums, No, Virginia… is more pop than they’ve ever been, but don’t be fooled — Palmer’s voice is still as throaty and moody as we remember, and her lyrics are characteristically clever and crass. Viglione and Palmer are at the top of their game on this album, with tight playing, catchy rhythms and a full range of emotion and style. No, Virginia… is more than a companion album, but a complete collection on its own. —Juliet Bennet-Rylah Filter frontman Richard Patrick, who returns as the band’s only ongoing member, has softened some since sobering up after the release of 2002’s The Amalgamut. Anthems achieves a more uniform sound throughout its early cuts (“Soldiers of Misfortune,” “The Wake”) than its distanced predecessor, relying on a likeable loud-soft dynamic and sounding similar to Army of Anyone, the supergroup Patrick played in with Stone Temple Pilots’ DeLeo brothers. Patrick doesn’t get really heavy until two-thirds of the way through, when on “The Take” and “In Dreams” he brings back the guitar fury and rumbling basslines of Filter’s first two records. He smartly saves solitary soft-rocker “Only You” for last, savoring its sweeping sound with the additional outro “Can Stop This.” —Eric Mitts Tom Waits is a hero that flies through the sky and lands in your window, like Peter Pan, whisking you out of your mundane life and into a brothel in Singapore, swinging lanterns, fighting sailors, freaky floor shows with bearded ladies… these are the kind of magical experiences that Tom Waits has bestowed upon vast amounts of people, including me. His songs take you on a tour de force of brazen obstacles laced with a tragic visual alchemy that he has mastered like no other storyteller /singer of our time. All the formulaic pieces were there, with T.V. on the Radio’s David Stek doing production, Nick Zimmer of the Yeah, Yeah, Yeah’s contributing, and none other than David Bowie singing some back up on a couple of tracks. All this amazing possibility, and one sad reality—Scarlett Johansson can’t sing. She can “sing,” but not with any discernible feeling that Tom Waits’ songs need. On the track “Falling Down”, I felt like I was at a Zombie Karaoke. Night of the singing dead. No feeling. Zero. This “no feeling” effect makes songs like “Green Grass” and “Town With No Cheer” sound like a monotonous, bad heroin trip. Sorry Scarlett, I just cannot listen anymore. —Liz Viernes 100 Days, 100 Nights is a bold foray back to the heart of authentic old-school funk/soul from the 60’s and 70’s. The album brings back the full, brazen sound of a brass orchestra accompanied by Sharon Jones’ smoky, gut-wrenching vocals, and will make you question the outdated quality of big hair, bell bottoms, and paisley, as well as make you wonder why a funk/soul revival movement hasn’t happened sooner. The title track immediately pulls the listener back into the groove of mid-60’s soul—its hypnotic melody and haunting lyrics combined with Jones’ powerful duet with a bari-sax is reminiscent of Screamin’ Jay Hawkins. Songs vary from the standard love ballads, to ‘pack-your-shit-and-leave’ tracks, to praise music. Jones’ commanding, semi-gritty vocals are goosebump-inspiring, and the addition of sax and trumpet accents throughout the album are more than enough to cement this to my favorites list. Definitely a retro treat (and at the very least, something your parents might like). —Emilee Petersmark Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea, Silver Jews’ sixth studio album, is a little bit country and a little bit rock ‘n roll. Lead singer David Berman’s deep voice is an amalgam of Johnny Cash and Adam Green when crooning through cynical lyrics like “how much fun is a lot more fun?/Not much fun at all,” (“Strange Victory, Strange Defeat”). Perhaps more put-together than previous albums, Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea has a sense of old-timey, whiskey-slinging, woods-fearing storytelling. Berman gets a hand from his wife, Cassie, who offers her saccharine vocals for a touch of brilliance. From the saloon-style piano in “Aloyisius Bluegrass Drummer,” to the sound effects-ridden, syncopated, Lou Reed-esque jaunt that is “Party Barge,” Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea spins you into another place, something sepia-toned with tattered corners. —Juliet Bennet-Rylah Africa is in turmoil. People are dying. We have the power to stop this. These are the sentiments that Many Things carries along to the funk grooves and tribal percussions of Afrobeat. Seun Kuti’s second album propagates his father, legendary Afrobeat pioneer Fela Kuti’s political messages as well as his musical styling. The album begins with segments of recorded speeches from the current Nigerian president making empty promises, followed by Kuti exclaiming in obvious derision, “Now everyone is really happy.” Kuti sings with palpable enthusiasm and passion in both Nigerian and English, echoed by a large chorus and brass orchestra. The trumpet and sax solos on “Mosquito Song” (which explains how the government’s lack of educational programs have contributed to the malaria epidemic) showcase the incredible musicianship of Kuti and his band mates, drawing obvious inferences from Duke Ellington’s jungle music and Kuti’s father, Fela. Leading his father’s band, Egypt 80, and keeping Fela’s spirit alive, Kuti passes on a message to his people: Africa speaks. Will you listen? — Emilee Petersmark Spiritualized J Spaceman is the real deal. This guy’s beaten an impressive heroin habit, a near deathly bout with double pneumonia (!), and a pack a day cigarette affliction — not to mention the normal life strain that befits a 20-year rock and roll career. It’s a wonder he’s still standing, frankly, though he has been performing seated of late. Songs in A&E isn’t an overcooked record like his last one, but it bellows with holy fire just like the old ones used to. “Baby I’m Just A Fool” revisits their late-90s free-jazz forays, ending in a most satisfying noise. Mostly, you get Spaceman’s aging croak drifting over sweeping acoustic passages. It’s beautiful, really — simple, direct and quite enjoyable —Andrew Watson The Roots It’s album number three for The Roots on Def Jam, and if you think the move to Jay-Z’s big pimpin’, Bentley bangin’ balla label would rub off on Black Thought, well, maybe it has. These Roots would beat The old Roots bloody and stick that high falutin’ white boy caterin’ hip-hop jazz shit right up their ass. Rising Down is a spectacular record, full of crispy beats and serious flow, but these are angry and aggressive dudes — polar opposites from those Do You Want More?!!!??! hip cats. Maybe the venom is more pointed; the Bush bashing is quite feverish on this record. Still the most reliable crew working, The Roots continue to amaze and impact. This is an outstanding effort. —Andrew Watson NIN Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor rewards fans for imbibing in his instrumental indulgence — the “Ghosts I-IV” EPs released earlier this year — by giving them The Slip, NI ’s full-length follow-up to last year’s Year Zero, for free. In the spectral shadow of “Ghosts,” Reznor’s words come under the spotlight more than ever. The album title alone has already been analyzed countless ways online; some saying it refers to Reznor leaving his major label overlords or how he has sneakily distributed the disc on NI ’s Web site, or how lyrically it addresses themes of backsliding and addiction. Without question it marks a return to form, and not just because it includes Reznor’s recognizable rasp. The first few tracks surrounding the digital disco single “Discipline” charge forward with an urgency NI hasn’t had since 1992’s “Broken” EP. Still, keeping in mind how happily Reznor has shared this dark creation with the public, it’s getting harder to believe him when he whisper-screams “I don’t feel anything at all” on “1,000,000.” Even though he excitedly encourages listeners to become collaborators by creating remixes of The Slip, the album does feel incredibly personal. Nowhere does this become clearer than on “Lights In The Sky,” a somber number finding Reznor alone, stripped of his attendant noise, barely brushing his piano. It’s a moment so intimate it forgives and requires the inclusion of two more ethereal instrumentals (“Corona Radiata,” “The Four of Us Are Dying”) to completely recover. —Eric Mitts Wolf Parade Wolf Parade, a band born of necessity when Spencer Krug signed on to support Arcade Fire’s Us Kids Know tour, is now five men strong and holds its own in the realm of indie pop. At Mount Zoomer is definitely dance-able with engaging and energetic hooks in many places, but contains a certain darkness to its tracks. “Kissing the Beehive” is the epic of the bunch, building slowly into a march-tempo anthem and fuck, if it isn’t catchy. Songs like “Call It a Ritual” and “Language City” are driven home by intense and pounding piano. “Bang Your Drum” is the new glam rock, full of synth and arching vocals. At Mount Zoomer is a good album to drive to. It’s catchy, it’s vigorous and it’s adamant. And if you can’t drive, then you can walk to it with purpose, can’t you? —Juliet Bennet-Rylah Mudhoney This album was recorded in 3 1/2 days and you can totally tell. It brings rawness only achieved by sweating it out with some dudes playing gritty, down & dirty, pure Rock & Roll glory. You won’t leave that mosh pit, you know you’re going to get elbowed in the face by some overzealous stink-ass, but you’ve got that tingle right down to your feet. Listen to “I’m Now” and you’ll know what I’m talking about. Can the guitars get any sludgier? Can they sear through your Rock guts any better than this? Yes! “Inside Out” will make you turn your stereo up to speaker-blowing capacity, rock rifts that make you throw a fist up, with a break down into a complete wash of guitar “big muff” blasts! “Next Time” is a call to arms. Storm those gates! We are rocking out and not a damn thing can stop us. Bowing to the bass lines on “New Meaning,” Mudhoney solidly ends this album with a resounding bang that brings you to your rock adoring knees. How the hell did they know we needed something this real? —Liz Viernes Flight of the Conchords For Conchord aficionados, Flight of the Conchords’ first full-length album, (self-titled, of course) is the long-awaited release of classic stand-up tunes, professionally produced in a studio. For fans of the TV show, the album contains most of the memorable jams without the context behind them, reproduced and revamped. Take the sit-com plot away from the story, and you’ve got an onslaught of hilarious subtlety and quick-wit, running the gamut of genres -- the sultry, bass-heavy funk of “Business Time,” the glam rock to 80s wave Bowie homage of “Bowie in Space,” and intentional so-bad-it’s-awesome attempts at hip hop on “Mutha’uckas” and “The Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenocerous.” —Juliet Bennet-Rylah Portishead There are almost no words acceptable to express when something resounds with such clarity that to talk about it reduces it to a tangible relatable thing that doesn’t reflect its complete and awesome power to just “be.” Portishead’s album Third is like a divining rod. It shows us down paths that will force our minds into colossal realms, tragedies that compete with mysteries staged in glory. I have been reborn onto a planet delicately designed with foreboding rhythms, deep, richly canvassed darkness, and melodies that act as a guide to every fascinating twist and turn that exposes itself to me. These songs won’t let me go. Beth Gibbons’ voice eerily sensuous and seductive, traps you with the subtle power of her hypnotic wares. With Portishead’s song “The Rip,” we are forced to reflect on this journey and how much deeper we are willing to go. “Plastic” takes a loose drumming style and combines it with intensely syncopated effects, evocative of rapid beating wings on an electronic raptor in a bizarre evolutionary makeover with Portishead rendering the facts as we know it. “We Carry On” takes us even further, fast forward into complete tantric indoctrination that ends abruptly followed by the sweetness of “Deep Water.” In the song “Machine Gun,” the cumulative rhythmic successions add to the power Portishead wields to define and supersede with inimitable ingenuity. Trust me, this is no easy recant. If we decide to ignore the future mapped out to us by Portishead we will most certainly implode into ourselves and the earth will burn up around us. —Liz Viernes Allá Upon first listening to Allá, Sergio Mendez and all it’s little subtle nuances comes immediately to mind. Allá has a rolling, lilting effervescence to their music as well, a little less on the “holy crap i opened up a can of worms” effect, and maybe a little more of a “hey we definitely have the relaxed latin vibe”. I hear a great segue from “La Montana Sagrada” into a very Torotoise-esque drum intro which then throws a surprising bit of rap from a second male vocalist that adds an unexpected touch to the song. To pull off a clean-floating-in-the- atmosphere with a hint of what stars and meteors might sound like if they were muffled by your space helmet effect, there has to be an almost pure and flawless sound. Allá executes this brilliantly. -Liz Viernes Thrice When a band sets out on a creative adventure like Thrice has, by attempting to record an EP for each of the four elements, an open mind goes a long way. Like Fire, off last year’s Vols. I & II, Air, more closely resembles Thrice’s previous material, with tons of fast guitar runs “The Sky Is Falling” and mythological references “Daedalus”. Unlike Fire, Air has more softness, alluding to its counterpart with the naturalistic “As The Crow Flies.” Earth’s the heavier of the two, despite its acoustic instrumentation. Of the four Alchemy discs, it has the most depth, heading down the dusty trail with shuffling-feet piano-blues “Digging My Own Grave” and a gritty sense of purpose “Come All You Weary”. — Eric Mitts De Novo Dahl The album builds like a rewarding relationship, with each song bringing the listener to a new and exciting climax. Diverse song-sculpting and well-timed breaks push the pace patiently as the varied rhythms and textured guitars deliver a musical tapestry tailored like Bowie in polyester and suede. Layered choruses and dynamic lyrics fully develop the soundscapes over the crafted rock structures leaving brilliantly total compositions. A description like modern indie rock married with late-70s disco-tech falls short as the heart of the album pumps with an enormous and genuine love of musical expression that could only come from an original. The music gliding like a self-made, self-realized rock babe in roller-skates and shades, I fell hard at first listen and told the album that I love it. - William Case Animal Collective Water Curses, Animal Collective’s EP and follow up to Strawberry Jam, consists of four tracks that refuse to have much in common with Strawberry Jam at all, and in fact, sound more like 2005’s release, Feels. The title track is fast, over-populated with sound effects, a mash-up of octaves, time signature changes and scattered vocals. The other three are less frantic and more ethereal. “Street Flash” is the longest track, running seven mellow minutes of alien soundscape with uncharacteristic and unexpected crescendos. “Seal Everything” is a dreamy and slow, with definitive piano driving hesitant synth chords to a soft finish. There are a lot of beautiful moments in this brief collection, proving that Animal Collective is still one of the strangest and versatile bands around. — Juliet Bennett-Rylah The Breeders The best thing I can say about Mountain Battles, The Breeders fourth LP, is that it barely resembles anything in the band’s back catalogue — not the confused half-sketches that made up the underachieving Title TK, nor the glistening pop perfection of Last Splash. This record gives you bubble-punk “It’s The Love”, gorgeous drawl “We’re Gonna Rise”, Latin lingo “Regalame Esta Noche” and noisy dub-folk “Bang On” without seeming difficult or over-wrought — an amazing achievement. Kim Deal’s songwriting sounds as brave and confident as ever and her bandmates devour the opportunity to branch out. Last Splash may go down as the band’s pinnacle, and rightly so, but this record certainly qualifies them as more than just a one-hit ‘90s relic. —Andrew Watson Los Campesinos! This Welsh outfit, made up of Cardiff University dropouts, supersedes its lack of technique with a heaping supply of exuberance and a level of enthusiasm that is a joy to behold. Los Campesinos! treat songs like junk art, compiling loud, youthful arrangements out of whatever instrument happens to be lying around the flat. Lyrically, the group is incredibly and stupidly blunt; alas, there is nothing here that would pass for honesty or enlightenment. Keep walking, you fans of poetic, revealing verse! That said, most of these songs sound great coming out of your speakers at loud volume, and, really, when you get down to it, what else matters? —Andrew Watson |
