Pontiak - Innocence

Pontiak
Innocence
27 January 2014
Thrill Jockey

3 stars out of 5

 

Pontiak is three brothers (Jennings, Van, and Lain Carney) from the Blue Ridge of Virginia. They’ve so far made an seven-album career of their neo-psychedelic Neutral Milk Hotel meets Black Sabbath tomfoolery. Innocence, their fifth LP with Thrill Jockey (not including the TJ re-issue of Sun on Sun), is a frustrating record, not quite ambitious enough to be interesting and not quite unhinged enough to be fun. There are some good old school headbanging tracks in the first and third quarters, but while these would probably sound great in a bar full of drunk hipsters, there’s just not enough going on here to make the record worth returning to again and again.

The title track introduces the album’s fuzzed-out bass, guitar, and drums attack with an unhinged immediacy. By the third track, “Ghosts,” things have slowed down with each song but have increased in volume and intensity by increments. “It’s the Greatest” brings things down to a crawl as Pontiak concentrate on their more introspective side, throwing a vintage-sounding organ into the mix. By the time track number five comes along, we are greeted with acoustic guitar and vocal harmonies, and the energy has disappeared from the record. In the meantime, in case you were wondering, what we’ve heard so far have been some fairly standard verse-chorus-verse constructions, competently enough constructed and performed, but lacking in anything special to set Pontiak apart from a zillion other bands doing this same thing. Then comes “Surrounded by Diamonds,” a metal tune that Black Sabbath would have been proud to have written in the early 1970s. Though not especially spectacular, it’s got aggressive, meaty riffs and the swagger to back them up. “Beings of the Rarest” is more of the same, and in a good way. “Shining” is the most interesting song on the album, still in Paranoid mode, but with an epileptic drum beat that follows the deranged bass line into some interesting and enjoyable places.

Pontiak is a good band in need of better songwriting. I’m not implying that every remotely indie rock band out there needs to go to Slint-like lengths to turn their compositions inside out; I’m merely suggesting that the brothers Carney push themselves a bit more when they sit down to write. All the ingredients are here for a very exciting band. I’m just waiting for them to excite me.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Snowbird - Moon

Snowbird
Moon
27 January 2014
Bella Union

2.5 stars out of 5

 

It’s probably not surprising that a band featuring an alumnus (Simon Raymonde) of Scotland’s much-celebrated Cocteau Twins would sound a lot like that band. I mean, a lot. A. Lot. What’s troubling is that Snowbird sound more like that band’s post-4AD period than Treasure or even Heaven or Las Vegas, two of the Cocteaus’ classic albums. Moon comes across more like a feeble attempt to recreate Four-Calendar Café or Milk & Kisses, which of course begs the question, “Why bother?” Snowbird’s other half is American Stephanie Dosen, whose two solo albums and work with Massive Attack and The Chemical Brothers form an impressive CV of her own. That both Dosen and Cocteau Twins singer Liz Fraser have provided vocals for Massive Attack (Dosen toured with the band in 2008, Fraser in 2006; Fraser also sang on several songs on Mezzanine, including “Teardrop”) is likely not a coincidence, as Stephanie is a sound-alike for Liz under the right conditions.

Moon’s opener “I Heard the Owl Call My Name” could be an outtake from Vegas. To be fair, it’s a solid, moving track which sees Dosen doing her best Fraser impression. The next few tracks are all stationary, flat, dull copies of the lifeless piano versions found on Twinlights. The narrative which unfolds over the LP seems to center on a woman or girl named Amelia, who on her trek through the forest in the winter encounters the aforementioned owl, plus birds, bears, mice, and foxes. Since more often than not Dosen also mimics Fraser’s much-renowned ability to be utterly incomprehensible, the five W’s and one H of the story remain mostly unanswered questions, if one cared enough to ask them in the first place. If loads of furry and feathered animals in a snowy forest is your idea of a good time (and actually that does sound rather nice), then the otherwise lifeless music here should provide you with forty-five minutes of cold but fluffy entertainment.

Despite featuring contributions by two members of Radiohead (Ed O’Brien, Phil Selway), Moon is sonically uninteresting and compositionally dull. Raymonde seems intent on reliving past glories, but this is not my complaint. Rather, that he would choose to relive Twinlights, which was, arguably, Cocteau Twins’ dullest and least important moment (after Snow, obviously), is where my criticism arises. Nor would I rate this LP any higher if I didn’t take into consideration the background of the musicians involved. Clearly a lot of work and thought has gone into the writing and recording of this record, it’s just a shame that the results are so underwhelming.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Actress - Ghettoville

Actress
Ghettoville
27 January 2014
Werkdiscs/Ninja Tune

3 stars out of 5

As Actress, Wolverhampton’s Darren J. Cunningham continues to expand his musical palate on his fourth LP, Ghettoville, though the results are somehow less exciting than 2012’s R.I.P. There’s no momentum built from track to track, no unity to justify this being released as a proper LP rather than as a series of twelve-inch singles.

 

The brooding downbeat distorted crunch of “Forgiven” starts things off, creeping along like creaky haunted furniture through a deserted, ready-for-demolition council estate. “Street Corp.” is a nod to middle period Autechre glitch, though Cunningham begins to introduce the melodic aspects which come more to the fore later on in the track listing. “Contagious” sees the artist pouring broken glass over a 78 played at 33. “Birdcage” comes off initially as drum’n’bass at gabber bpms before revealing its true nature as early ‘80s R&B/electropop crossover. “Gaze,” at track number ten, is the first beat-centered piece on Ghettoville, and while its sonics and samples will do in a pinch, it seems tossed off and uninspired. “Skyline” is even more suggestive of the dance floor, via the faux scratching and minimalist 1/1 of platEAU’s Music for Grass Bars. Cunningham keeps up the chameleon act with “Image,” which launches from a lost corner of new romantic synthpop and glides along on a current of air to land in the robotic funk of contemporary French disco.

While some exercises in stylistic multiple personality disorder are thrilling and engaging (see Ween’s Chocolate and Cheese, His Name Is Alive’s Ft. Lake), Ghettoville is neither. This is not to say the music isn’t good—it is. It simply doesn’t work as an album. If Cunningham’s intent was to create a work where it didn’t matter if the listener shuffled the tracks or not, he succeeded; however, this is a cheap trick that is more lazy than inventive.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Damien Jurado - Brothers and Sisters of the Eternal Son

Damien Jurado
Brothers and Sisters of the Eternal Son
21 January 2014
Secretly Canadian

3.5 stars out of 5

 

Seattle native Damien Jurado’s eleventh studio album is a tribute to the Californian psychedelic sunshine pop of the late 1960s, with nods to various other musical locales in the Wild West. Diverse in its influences yet unified in its presentation, Brothers and Sisters of the Eternal Son is ambitious and polished in its arrangements and production but never feels stiff or needlessly glossy.

“Magic Number” sets the tone, Jurado’s soft yet assertive falsetto haunting the spaces between the bounding bass and the reverb-washed atmospherics. “Silver Timothy,” complete with retro-sounding bass and acid-fuelled keyboards, points to The Byrds and Buffalo Springfield as guests of honour at the party. The Morricone-tinged “Return to Maraqopa” marches through a sun-drenched western ghost town like a carnival looking for a place to pitch its tents but finding no spectators. “Jericho Road” takes the highway from Bakersfield down to Todos los Santos to hang out in the Hotel California. “Silver Donna” kicks off the movement of the four contiguous “Silvers,” sprawling its not-quite-jamming but still loose and improvisational textures over six minutes. Next up is “Silver Malcolm,” a study in effects and details over a laid-back country rock structure. “Silver Katherine,” a rare acoustic guitar-driven track on the LP, while owing more to Grizzly Bear than Bakersfield, fits seamlessly between “Malcolm” and “Joy,” the last of the “Silvers,” also the most stripped-down and intimate song Jurado presents on Brothers and Sisters.

Jurado bows off the stage with “Suns in Our Mind,” the oddest composition of the lot in that it carries the least amount of twang, instead recalling the British psychedelia of the late ‘60s. It’s an interesting if subtle genre-switch, perhaps hinting at future paths of experimentation, perhaps winking everything you’ve just heard away as an elaborate prank. Either way, this is a solid album from a talented song crafter.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra - Fuck Off Get Free We Pour Light on Everything

Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra
Fuck Off Get Free We Pour Light on Everything
20 January 2014
Constellation

4.5 stars out of 5

 

“We live on the island called Montreal, and we make a lot of noise because we love each other.” So begins the new LP by the newest incarnation of A Silver Mt. Zion (okay, so they’ve managed to keep the same band name for two albums now), narrated by the unpretentious voice of a young child. What follows is 50 minutes of ecstatic intensity, overflowing with vocal refrains that build and build with each repetition. The warm organic analogue sound of the record is as much a part of the compositions as the melodies and lyrics themselves, filling the spaces with life instead of dead digital non-hiss. Fuck Off… sees the band taking their beautiful and powerful sound into territory where the theoretical bridge between Nick Cave and Michael Gira could be built but, rather than imitating those older artists, standing firmly on their own self-made island.

“Fuck Off Get Free (For the Island of Montreal)” kicks things off, turning in purposeful gyres over terrain at once warmly familiar and excitingly exotic. The song’s ten minutes-plus of sonic attack unfold without one second seeming unnecessary or redundant. “Austerity Blues” comes across as a sort of post-rock/gospel experiment, as religiously uplifting as it is uncompromisingly noisy. The Far Eastern-inspired melodic lines of “Take Away These Early Grave Blues” serve as the frame in which the band’s multiple vocalists work themselves up towards catharsis. The gentle, piano-led “Little Ones Run,” sung by the band’s two female violinists, Jessica Moss and Sophie Trudeau, softens the sound of the LP for a couple of minutes, but doesn’t lessen its impact or intensity. “What We Loved Was Not Enough” could have been where Arcade Fire ended up if they hadn’t decided to hit the dance floor.

The album’s closer, the stunning “Rains Thru the Roof at Thee Grande Ballroom,” brings everything together in four minutes of spooky and mournful loveliness. Like the rest of the LP, it has everything which makes SMZ great: intensity without acting, relevance without style, commentary without cynicism, and sincerity without irony. The band shows that they are still just as vital to the Montreal scene, and music in the world as a whole, as they were in the last century. A 12” and an EP with new material will follow later in 2014.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

I Break Horses - Chiaroscuro

I Break Horses
Chiaroscuro
21 January 2014
Bella Union

3 stars out of 5

 

Chiaroscuro, the second LP from Stockholm’s electro-shoegaze duo I Break Horses, is not quite the exercise in contrasts that one might expect from the album’s title. While there are contrasts to be found if one searches—songs with beats vs songs without beats; songs that sound like Bat for Lashes vs songs that don’t (or, at least, that sound less so)—the album is fairly unified in its composition and textures. Unfortunately, it’s not always unified in its ability to keep your attention.

“You Burn” starts things off, sounding a bit like The Knife (sorry for stating the obvious) paying tribute to Birds of Passage-era Bel Canto. Trust me, this is a good thing. “Faith” is more of a new wave electro-pop tune, though singer Maria Lindén seems more comfortable hiding behind her vocal effects rather than stepping out and engaging the listener directly. After these two opening tracks the album loses a bit of momentum. “Ascension” and “Denial” would qualify as what used to be known in the music business as “filler.” Things get more interesting with “Berceuse,” an exercise in minimalist understatement that ultimately finds a very beautiful climax. “Medicine Brush” finds the duo experimenting further with downtempo dark electro. I Break Horses are at their best on tracks like this, when they’re not in a hurry to get to the chorus, instead concentrating on the textured shapes in the darkness.

“Disclosure” and “Weigh True Words” see I Break Horses painting by numbers again, though in both cases the results are quite lovely, just not as interesting as what came immediately before. The completely unnecessary “Heart to Know” takes some effort to listen to in its almost eight minutes’ entirety. This would be the time to go make a cup of tea, check your email (fifteen or twenty times), or just stop the record and move on to something else. Though the album has its moments, one wishes that it had more of them in place of the uninspired tracks that make up half the LP.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Dum Dum Girls - Too True

Dum Dum Girls
Too True
22 January 2014
Sub Pop

4 stars out of 5

 

Too True is Dum Dum Girls’ third LP, and its immediately accessible dream pop hooks and post-punk beats serve as a declaration from Dee Dee Penny & Co. that they’re ready and willing to conquer the world. Or, if not the world, then at least the indie cafés of its hipper parts of town and the living rooms of its university students. This record is overwhelmingly cool, excitingly sexy, and endlessly listenable.

The statement of intent that is the one-two punch of “Cult of Love” and “Evil Blooms” is undeniably good times. Heads will nod, feet will tap. This is clearly meant to be fun shit. Then comes “Rimbaud Eyes” and all hell breaks loose. If Deborah Harry and Siouxsie Sioux were somehow merged into one and joined The Sisters of Mercy as their new lead singer and songwriter, you’d get “Rimbaud Eyes.” And it would be the catchiest thing any of those artists ever wrote. “Are You Okay?” is a warm and delicately sincere love song that works. “In the Wake of You” wouldn’t feel out of place on a Belly record. Released as a promo single a few months before the album, “Lost Boys & Girls Club” oozes with the confident swagger of a songwriter who knows she’s brought her A-game to the field.

Penny doesn’t push too many boundaries on Too True; rather, she’s refining her craft, expanding her voice within the territory that she’s claimed as her own. So don’t expect newfound virtuosity or Kid A-esque explosions of the concept of songform, just expect to be entertained by one of the coolest bands since The Long Blondes. And since the album’s 31 minutes go by far too quickly, it’s not entirely unreasonable to be entertained twice per hour, every hour, until you need to turn off the lights and go to sleep.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Alcest - Shelter

Alcest
Shelter
17 January 2014
Prophecy Productions

4 stars out of 5

 

France’s formerly black metal, now goth-tinged shoegaze band Alcest’s fourth album, Shelter, is a blissful romp through atmospheric rock which seems like it could be the ideal comedown album after a night (and a day and another night) spent dancing on Ibiza. Singer and multi-instrumentalist Neige has an instinct for addictive hooks, and he packs these eight tracks full of all kinds of them. Yes, the influences are easy to spot here, but they’re all assimilated completely into Alcest’s own sound. Shelter was recorded in Iceland at Sigur Rós’s studio, and some of their sound leaks into the record, but Neige’s reference points are further in the past, among the dream pop and showgaze purveyors of the UK, circa 1990.

The soaring “Opale” sounds as if a group of Balearic disco-worshipping Göteborgare decided to put away their drum machines and synths and attempt to make a Lush record. “La nuit marche avec moi” continues in the same vein, the shimmering guitars lost in the beautifully dense reverb, and vice versa. The stunning “Voix sereines” climaxes in a cascade of layered vocals and drone-like guitars. Built on a call-and-response pattern of chiming guitars, “L’Éveil des muses” allows for a quiet rest during its first movement before launching into another beautiful extended vocal chorus. “Shelter” tosses Crank-era Catherine Wheel, Sigur Rós, and – of course – My Bloody Valentine into the blender and pours out the results for five and a half minutes. “Away” is the low point of the album, straying into fromage-y AOR ballad territory, but “Délivrance” brings everything back on course and closes Shelter with over ten minutes of what Neige does right: bliss, bliss, and more bliss. It could be the song A Perfect Circle always wanted to do but never had the courage to attempt.

This record is exquisite. It pushes and pushes toward the ecstasy its shimmer and shine seeks, but it never feels like it’s pushing too much. Despite its dense sound, Shelter still comes across as minimalist in its execution. The album’s 46 minutes go by too quickly. Repeated listenings only deepen the experience.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Mogwai - Rave Tapes

Mogwai
Rave Tapes
20 January 2014
Rock Action

3 stars out of 5

 

Rave Tapes sees Mogwai moving still further from their post-rock roots. They haven’t quite reached the Klaus Schulz-esque epic bliss-outs they seem to aspire to, terrain explored in miniature form by their peers in the now-defunct Emeralds. Mogwai’s compositions are far too short and too firmly based in the song to really let go and explode like those of Schulz or Tangerine Dream, even though repetitive keyboard riffs are the central focus of Rave Tapes. It’s difficult to accuse Mogwai of repeating past explorations, except that a lot of Rave Tapes sounds, basically, like more of the same. Mogwai concentrate on what they do best – they can’t dance, they can’t (really) sing, they can only do one thing: be Mogwai. And on Rave Tapes they don’t do a half-bad job of it, though one can’t help but hope that next time they’ll do their job a little better.

At about the halfway point of “Remurdered,” Barry Burns unleashes a keyboard riff that would make Schulz stop and listen, yet the next track, “Hexon Bogon,” is classic old-school Mogwai, brimming over with shimmering guitar harmonics and a purposeful chord progression. “Repelish” features a narrated didactic passage expounding a theory that “Stairway to Heaven” contains subliminal messages imploring the listener to worship Satan. (If you open your prayer books to chapter 10 of Mogwai Young Team, you will remember that Mogwai fear Satan.) One of the weaker tracks on the album, “Deesh” feels more like a score to a Hollywood drama (the inspiring, danger-filled montage of the hero preparing himself to face the antagonist, perhaps) than anything else. The most memorable part of the song is Martin Bulloch’s drums, which sound like they were lifted from The Cure’s Pornography.

“Blues Hour,” the album’s only track with real vocals, a slow dirge full of piano and vocals hidden behind layers of reverb, is, like the rest of the album, good but not great. “No Medicine for Regret” makes you want to search IMDB to see what film it’s from. Most of the album feels like a film score, to be honest. This isn’t a bad thing in itself, but it makes the listener feel as if their attention should be focused on something else rather than the music. As a long-time Mogwai fan, I can find two or three tracks on Rave Tapes to add to my regular rotation, but the album as a whole leaves me underwhelmed. The album has no sharp edges, no real intensity, and feels too polished and watered-down. Hopefully Mogwai will be a better Mogwai next time around.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Warpaint - Warpaint

Warpaint

Warpaint

17 January 2014

Rough Trade

4 stars out of 5

 

LA’s all-female Warpaint shift to a less guitar-oriented sound on their eponymous second album. The results feel straight out of all of the best parts of the post-punk/dream pop scene of London, 1982. Coming from me, this is a huge compliment. Built upon Jenny Lee Lindberg’s dark, muddy, dubby basslines, the album’s twelve tracks all deliver the sombre goods, kept just this side of menacing by the mesmerizing vocals of Emily Kokal and Theresa Wayman. Stripping away the guitar has created huge, beautiful spaces which have been filled with the echoes of the rest of the instrumentation, from the waves of keyboard bliss to the meditative insistence of the ride cymbal.

“Keep It Healthy” grasps the listener’s hand early on and tugs him into Warpaint’s subtle world of hints and suggestions. Nothing here is direct. We have a sense of the band hiding behind the trees, but mostly we can hear just the wind in the red and yellow autumn foliage, the rattling of the drying-out branches against each other. We’re alone with our thoughts and the simultaneously cold/distant and warm/comforting sounds of the record. Until “Disco//Very,” that is. The band ambushes us where the trail narrows, assaulting us with a beat and a groove that we can’t deny. The song propels the album to an ecstatic climax before Kokal breathes out exhaustedly, “I’ve made room for everyone. I need to take a break.” A couple of tracks later comes the near-perfect “Feeling Alright.” The song sounds like a collaboration between Violator-era Depeche Mode (possibly due to Flood’s production) and The Sundays, with The xx sitting in on the session. It’s 3:33 of your life that you’ll want to put on repeat. Then follows “CC,” a gloomy march of layered vocals which would be at home on Curve’s Cuckoo.

But Warpaint saves the best for last. “Drive” is an epic dream pop anthem worthy of inclusion among the best songs of the genre, and the album’s closer “Son,” built on a few simple piano chords, makes it clear that real emotion, not affected style, is the driving force behind Warpaint’s music.

Lindberg’s husband Chris Cunningham filmed a documentary to accompany the album which is set to be released shortly.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Painted Palms - Forever

Painted Palms
Forever
14 January 2014
Polyvinyl

3 stars out of 5

Whenever a record is hyped because of how it was made rather than whether or not it’s worth listening to, there is the risk that the method will overshadow the music. The two cousins who comprise San Francisco’s (though originally Louisiana’s) Painted Palms collaborate over email despite living in the same city. This songwriting process originated while the pair lived in separate states for a period of time and continued after they were reunited. It’s not exactly an original process, as artists have been doing similar things since broadband internet became a widespread thing. And, frankly, once can’t really tell from listening to Forever that the two musicians weren’t in the same room while writing it. So, rather than let the process overshadow the rest of this review, let’s move on to the music itself.

You’re going to hear comparisons to Of Montreal from most sources, probably because Painted Palms were discovered by Kevin Barnes and the reviewers are too lazy to dig deeper. The PPs are nowhere near as dark as de Montréal, not nearly as over-the-top-pop, and are far fonder of blissed-out reverb-drenched vocals à la classic shoegaze. So, let’s dispense with the lazy comparisons to the OMs, as the two groups really have little in common apart from that they’re both from the South and they both play pop music. Except… okay, the lead-off track “Too High” really does sound a bit like Of Montreal. From there, the albums drifts further and further away from this starting point, until by the time the closing “Angels” comes along Painted Palms have established their own identity and distinct sound.

So, after the hype and the comparisons, what we have in Forever is an album of sweet pop tunes full of programmed beats and swirly synths. It’s a fun if uninvolving listen. If you buy the vinyl you’ll have a good record to ignore as background noise while you entertain your hipster guests with almond milk lattes and vegan, gluten-free tapas. (By which I mean olives. You’d just have olives. And sun-dried tomatoes. No wonderful cheese or chorizo. Mmm.) This is an enjoyable record while you’re listening to it, but there’s not much here that will get its hooks into you and keep you coming back for repeated listens.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

The Crystal Method - The Crystal Method

The Crystal Method

The Crystal Method

14 January 2014

Tiny e

2.5 stars out of 5

 

I admit to having purchased The Crystal Method’s debut LP Vegas when it was “hot” back in 1997. Everyone I knew shook their booty to “Busy Child” in the club (yes, “club” in the singular, the one club we had in my home town that was worth going to at all). But at the same time we all felt guilty about it. We had fun, but we knew it wasn’t remotely “cool.” We all knew, deep down in our hearts, that these guys from LA were just recycling the breakbeats that the “real” producers in the UK were creating. Some of us (myself not included) even bought Tweekend but had lost interest in it by the time we got it home from the store. In most collections the CD is probably still in the shrinkwrap.

Now it’s 2014 and, perhaps confusingly to most, The Crystal Method have released their fifth LP, meaning they snuck in two others while I wasn’t looking. The Crystal Method sounds pretty much exactly as I expected it to sound like: a collection of sounds that were fresh in the UK two or three years ago, assembled into danceable tracks, occasionally featuring guest vocalists to appeal to the more “pop music” crowd. You’ve got your dubsteppity wobbles, your squeaks and squelches, most of it sounding suspiciously close to (or slightly past) its expiry date. The beats are too pedestrian to make you include this LP on your listening-to-at-home rotation, and the vocal tracks are a little too Delerium-esque for comfort.

I mean, hey, if you just want to have a dance party in your living room, have no clue about music, and have a bunch of friends with a similar lack of taste who just want to bust a move, then, by all means, fire up The Crystal Method on the shoesaw. And, you know what? If you invited me over, I’d probably dance to it myself after a few rum and cokes. But you can’t make me like it. No way, dude.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Bruce Springsteen - High Hopes

Bruce Springsteen

High Hopes

14 January 2014

Columbia

2.5 stars out of 5

 

Bruce Springsteen’s eighteenth studio album, High Hopes, arrives almost exactly forty-one years after his first. It features a couple of covers of songs by bands associated with the punk scene of the 1970s, Suicide and The Saints, as well as contributions on guitar on eight tracks by Rage Against the Machine’s Tom Morello. Morello even shares lead vocals duty on a(nother) reworking of “The Ghost of Tom Joad.” Is the 64-year-old Springsteen attempting to gain some underground cred through these decisions? Upon listening to the record, the answer is decidedly “No.” The twelve tracks which make up the album are mostly re-recordings of demos, outtakes, and previous studio versions à la Tattoo You, and all twelve (including the covers) sound like generic Springsteen, albiet with a few production touches which indicate that Springsteen is at least vaguely aware that there exist other forms of music than American trad rock.

I’m going to be blunt: this record is pretty bland. If, for some reason, you thought that Born in the U.S.A. was The Boss’s shining moment and you really can’t stand Nebraska, well, that makes you a bit crazy, but it would also make you more apt to enjoy this record than anything by Suicide, The Saints, or Rage Against the Machine. Morello’s legendary inventive guitar playing is too often buried in the background instead of being given enough space to bloom. This would appear to be the natural consequence of his being asked to add a bit of that thing he does here and there in the studio rather than having been in on the songwriting process from the beginning. It’s a bit like resurrecting Keith Moon and asking him to play the triangle while your regular unimaginative drummer takes up most of the drumscape.

The album’s key track is “The Ghost of Tom Joad.” If you’re keeping score at home, you’ll remember that Springsteen already released this song as the title track of his 1995 album. More importantly, you might recall that Rage Against the Machine covered this song twice, in 1997 and again in 2001. It’s the only track on High Hopes in which Morello disengages the parking brake and lets his guitar loose, and it’s the only truly memorable moment on the album. The fact that you’ve already heard it before in three different studio versions by the artists present should clue you in as to how very little new ground Springsteen is really breaking here, despite any efforts he might be making to do so.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Mouse on Mars - Spezmodia EP

Mouse on Mars

Spezmodia EP

10 January 2014

Monkeytown

3.5 stars out of 5

I’m a sucker for any city that can boast an umlaut in its name; therefore, hailing from Köln and Düsseldorf, the duo Mouse on Mars scores extra points right from the start. On the new Spezmodia, the German pair have poured an entire bottle of analogue bubblebath into the hot tub and turned the jets up to max. Over five too-short tracks the Meeces take us on a trip down ‘90s electronica memory lane. Touching on gabba, happy hardcore, and glitch, the EP is pure nostalgic IDM fun.

The lead-off track, “Bakerman Is Breaking Bad,” would be right at home on an early ‘90s AFX release (or perhaps on Aphex Twin’s Donkey Rhubarb EP). Other tracks, such as “Creme Theme” and the title track, recall the duo’s heyday period circa Iaora Tahiti, though “Spezmodia” steers straight toward the dance floor, unlike Tahiti’s more introspective beats. The playful “Migmy,” full of retro-sounding drum machine and clipped vocal samples, might easily be included on a mid-‘80s Art of Noise record, and that’s perfectly okay with me.

If I had a complaint about this EP it would be just that – it's an EP, and as such it feels incomplete and somewhat less than unified. Taken individually, the tracks are great fun, full of the playfulness and detail that helped garner Mouse on Mars the following they enjoy today. As a whole, Spezmodia leaves the listener unfulfilled, demanding more, waiting for the next full LP to appear and end the longing.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks - Wig Out at Jagbags

Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks

Wig Out at Jagbags

7 January 2014

Matador/Domino

 

4 stars out of 5

 

 

On “Lariat,” the third track off Wig Out at Jagbags, Stephen Malkmus sings, “We grew up listening to the music from the best decade ever.” He then proceeds over the rest of the album’s twelve songs to reference the music of every decade from the 1960s up to the present, from the Grateful Dead to Foxygen, with shout outs (direct or indirect) to Can, the Pixies, and Eminem along the way. While it’s fun to play the name-that-influence game here, what makes this record a truly enjoyable listen is how perfectly Malkmus’s lyrics meld with the Jicks’ music, and vice versa. The elaborate and intricate arrangements of what amount to some very good songs offer many possible points of entry for the listener to dive into Malkmus’s world of clever word play and loving nostalgia.

“Shibboleth” comes across as a Doolittle outtake, complete with signature Kim Deal-esque chugging bass line and Black Francis-style grad school lyrics. “Chartjunk” sees Malkmus channelling his inner Billy Joel (seriously) against a horn section and a bouncy power pop structure straight out of Dwight Tilley territory. “Rumble at the Rainbo,” an ode to Malkmus’s punk scene roots (“no one here has changed, and no one ever will”), breaks down rather appropriately into a reverbed-out dub ending. “Surreal Teenagers” unfolds like a lost Pink Floyd tune with flourishes provided by John Zorn.

This is all fine and good, but is this record good enough to stand in its own without the listener needing to know the complete history of pop music over the last fifty years in order to “get it”? The short answer: Yes. Very yes. Wig Out at Jagbags is a window into the mind of a master lyricist at the top of his game. Malkmus’s justified confidence in his craft is apparent throughout. It might be a shock to realize that his solo career has already lasted four years longer than that of Pavement; this knowledge might also explain why one doesn’t mourn the death of Pavement while listening to this new offering, but instead celebrates the life of the Jicks.

reviewed by Richard Krueger