Dalhous - Will to Be Well

Dalhous
Will to Be Well
8 July 2014
Blackest Ever Black

4.5 stars out of 5

 

Edinburgh-based electronic duo Dalhous (comprised of Alex Ander and Marc Dall of Young Hunting fame) return with their second album under their new name, and third album overall, Will to Be Well. Like 2013’s An Ambassador for Laing, the new record examines the life and writing of Scottish psychiatrist R. D. Laing, who was noted for taking an existential approach to his studies of mental illness. Of course, this being instrumental music, we’ll just have to take Dall’s word for it that Laing’s anti-psychiatry is the inspiration for the album, right?

Musically, Will to Be Well is incredibly striking: there’s none of the reliance on repetition which one often associates with electronic music, nor any of the sterile soundscapes or uninteresting drones. Dall and Ander give us a collection of compositions that are very much alive. If you’re looking for background music to zone out to, you’d be well advised to look elsewhere, as this record grabs your attention from the beginning and doesn’t let go for all of its 55 minutes. The record playfully blurs the line between relaxation and anxiety—each track contains the seeds for the listener to enter either (or both) state(s) of mind. Perhaps this is a comment on Laing’s philosophy towards mental illness—not a strictly biological phenomenon, but influenced by culture, society, family, etc. It’s not necessary to know anything about Laing or psychiatry in general to derive enjoyment from Will to Be Well, though a little background research would likely enhance the listening experience.

A victory by anyone’s standards, Will to Be Well injects a healthy dose of humanity into a genre that too often emphasizes temporary concerns like “cool” without regard for honest songwriting. Dall’s artistic vision continues to grow sharper and more confident, and the results are now more impressive than ever. Miss at your own risk.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Land Observations - The Grand Tour

Land Observations
The Grand Tour
28 July 2014
Mute

4 stars out of 5

 

Land Observations in the project of James Brooks, former guitarist with the London-based instrumental post-rock band Appliance. The Grand Tour is his second solo LP, its theme being the traditional means by which the middle and upper classes of England would educate their university-aged young in the ways of the world: sending them off unaccompanied on a grand tour of the continent. Titles reflect the rather rigid circuit that comprised the journey: “Flatlands and the Flemish Roads,” “Nice to Turin,” “The Brenner Pass.” Inspired by Brooks’s research into the history of the phenomenon, which represents the beginnings of tourism as a pastime, The Grand Tour draws from both his musical and fine arts backgrounds for its structure and textures.

All of the tracks were created using a single electric guitar and looping pedals, with the exception of very subtle percussion and keyboard parts here and there. Musically, the album seems to be at odds with its subject matter, invoking not the romantic image of the young lads at large in the cafés and brothels of France and Italy, but rather the computer-coordinated machinations of high-speed railways. The music is very contemporary, composed of straight lines, slight variations on ones and zeroes. While at times warm and human (“Return to Ravenna”), much of The Grand Tour seems to revisit Kraftwerk’s Trans Europa Express in terms of mood—rather than long nostalgically for a bygone era, the music celebrates the modern realities of inter-city travel. While listening to this record I keep expecting to hear a clear, confident woman’s voice (with a sexy German accent, of course) reciting things overtop the music like, “Deutsche Bahn: Germany is getting smaller.”

The Grand Tour is exciting in its reserved minimalist approach to instrumental guitar music. Emphasizing its intent an exercise in songwriting technique rather than useless virtuosity, it succeeds where many other instrumental records fail miserably. Recommended for your next journey by train, watching the country zoom past the window.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

The Raveonettes - Peʻahi

The Raveonettes
Peʻahi
22 July 2014
The Beat Dies

4 stars out of 5

 

Denmark’s favourite peddlers of bubble gum noise-pop The Raveonettes surprise release their seventh album, having neither pre-announced its existence nor done any promotion prior to it appearing in shops. The album is the result of the duo of Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo’s immersion in Southern California surf culture; the title refers to a famous surfing spot on Maui (that in the off season is a good place to score meth or get yourself murdered, apparently). Brace yourself: The Raveonettes have succeeded in recreating the roar of the surf of Hawaii and California through layers of bit-crushed guitars and seemingly dying electronics.

There’s some great melodies to be found here, all inspired by the early surf music scene of over fifty years ago, and all run through a series of machines that violently distort and mangle them until they come out at the other end sounding like broken robots. Consider yourself warned, people: the two horsemen of the apocalypse have brought their boards and are looking for the biggest waves, motherfuckers. Lyrically, the album is full of tales of anguish, dealing with death (Wagner’s father died suddenly just before writing and recording began), addiction, and infidelity (“one time I saw my dad fuck a redhead whore”).

Allegedly there are harps, strings, and large choirs contributing their sounds to Peʻahi, though after repeated listens only the strings manage to peek their heads out from the massive curtains of noise (“Wake Me Up”). In the end, Wagner and Foo bring all the noise they sound by themselves, with software providing drum beats and sound processing. The album ends with Wagner’s final commentary on his father’s death: “I hate your guts/Why don’t you just die?” Perhaps somewhat inappropriate for an epitaph, but very appropriate for the album of powerful rage and anguish that leads up to it.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Reigning Sound - Shattered

Reigning Sound
Shattered
15 July 2014
Merge

3.5 stars out of 5

 

Memphis-born Greg Cartwright has been a fixture on the garage rock scene for two and a half decades, in bands such as Compulsive Gamblers, Oblivians, The Deadly Snakes, and since 2001 the Reigning Sound. A traditionalist, Cartwright never strays too far from the ‘60s garage rock feel, although here and there he might add touches of Phil Spector or pay tribute to that other famous Memphis resident, Justin Timbe Elvis Presley.

Shattered is filled with richly-detailed nostalgia. Cartwright’s finely-honed songwriting skills and feel for the genre frequently lift his songs out of mere “garage rock” status and into the rarefied air of icons such as Van Morrison (“My My”) and The Rolling Stones (“My My”—seriously, the song recalls both Sir Mick and The Belfast Cowboy). “Baby, It’s Too Late” recalls Motown in the mid-‘60s. Reigning Sound go back a decade earlier for the album closer, “I’m Trying (To Be the Man You Need),” a slow dance to the radio with your sweetheart in the glare of the headlights of your ’58 tailfinned boat of a car, off in the middle of a field where no one can see your midnight romance.

While Cartwright & Co. are—obviously—breaking no new ground on their new LP, they give us a very delicately reconstructed vision of the past, one that is as rewarding to the intellect as it is pleasing to the ear. Only the most hardcore of snobs would be immune to the multi-faceted charms of Shattered.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

The Proper Ornaments - Wooden Head

The Proper Ornaments
Wooden Head
8 July 2014
Slumberland/Fortuna Pop

3 stars out of 5

 

The Proper Ornaments is a project of James Hoare, guitarist of the London-based Veronica Falls, and Max Claps, whose epic tale of escape from pending institutionalization in his native Argentina is a whole novel in and of itself. The two met while Claps was trying to distract Hoare at the shop he worked at in London so that Claps’s girlfriend could steal a pair of boots. In an ideal world, a story like this is good enough to warrant a five-star review, but life really isn’t that easy. This one gets a three, for reasons I shall reveal in the following paragraphs.

“Neo-psychedelia” is a term that seems to get slapped on anything that appears to be even remotely drug-influenced, and frankly isn’t very helpful. Face it, that definition could mean anything from minimalist techno to stoner metal to Spacemen 3, so as a genre label, “neo-psychedelia” is rather defective. I personally prefer the following rule: does it sound like nerdy English kids in the ‘80s trying to rewrite Sgt. Pepper? Yes? Then it’s neo-psychedelia. The Proper Ornaments ain’t that, which isn’t anything wrong in and of itself. Joy Division never attempted to sound like The Beatles and they were fucking amazing, after all. So what do The Proper Ornaments sound like? Like an intentionally lo-fi, simplified take on the late ‘60s psychedelic rock scene. There’s some good hooks here (“Sun,” “Now I Understand”), and a very carefully constructed sound—the band manages to sound like The Velvet Underground and Yo La Tengo without any of the eccentricities that made those legendary bands interesting—but most of what remains is the artifice and superficial mechinations of a pair of poseurs.

Harsh? Possibly, but still better than if they actually felt this music in their souls rather than were cynically trying to cash in on some gullible hippy demographic’s weakness for shitty pot-smoking soundtracks. This is a rare case where cynicism would be preferable—at least they could just shave and shower in the morning and pretend to know nothing about the whole thing.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Alvvays - Alvvays

Alvvays
Alvvays
22 July 2014
Royal Mountain/Polyvinyl

3.5 stars out of 5

 

Molly Rankin (yes, a younger descendent of that family; her father was John Morris Rankin) leads Toronto-based quintet Alvvays (pronounced “always”) along with fellow transplanted Cape Bretoner Kerri MacLellan. And while there’s nothing on Alvvays that even remotely resembles the Celtic folk music of her elder family members, the record does seem to owe a debt to another famous musical institution from her native Nova Scotia: the grunge-infused indie pop scene of the Haligonian ‘90s.

The record starts off right with the twee-inflected “Adult Diversion,” a noisy bit of pop that recalls the best melodic moments of the Maritime landscape that spawned Never Mind the Molluscs. But while there are similarities to the music of that long-gone scene, either consciously intended or not, Alvvays are in no way limited by the work of those who went before them. From the C86-ish romp of “Atop a Cake” to the delirious joy that is “Archie, Marry Me,” Alvvays rewards with track after track. And, seriously, what other band can claim to sound a bit like both fellow Nova Scotian grunge-ists Jale and tortured Americana artist Sharon Van Etten?

My only real complaint regarding this record is the cover art. Specifically, the colour choices. It’s like sandpaper on the eyeballs. But, unless you buy it on vinyl, this is obviously a minor issue. Unless you really happen to like the album cover, in which case I feel sorry for your significant other if (s)he ever leaves you in charge of selecting a paint scheme for your new apartment.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

To Rococo Rot - Instrument

To Rococo Rot
Instrument
21 July 2014
City Slang

3.5 stars out of 5

 

Berlin-based palindromic post-rock trio To Rococo Rot have released their ninth proper LP, Instrument, featuring the vocal and/or guitar stylings of the legendary experimental no wave figure Arto Lindsay on three tracks. As the second decade of the band’s existence nears an end, it’s apparent that they have lost none of the exploratory creative spirit that first brought them to international attention with their well-received first couple of records, To Rococo Rot and Veiculo.

The band’s predominantly instrumental post-rock sound blends traditional rock instruments—drums, bass, guitar—with an approach to composition and arrangement that at first superficially may seem almost jazz-like. This impression is quickly tossed aside, however, by the band’s use of extreme repetition and subtle variation on intentionally limited themes. The focus of creativity here is not on flashy virtuosity, but on exploring the variations promised by minute changes in timing and volume. One feels at times that attack, decay, sustain, and release levels are written into the band’s sheet music (provided that such written instructions existed—it’s doubtful that they do). Most of the flashy improvisation within TRR’s songs comes from the direction of the keyboard: not just for background texture and filling up space, the often bizarre and abrasive sounds of the keyboard offer an unhinged, unpredictable element to the music.

As for Lindsay’s contribution, his prepared guitar playing on “Longest Escalator in the World” is the highlight, offering a very disorienting counterpart to his carefully controlled Ralf Hütter-like singing. As a whole, Instrument is a worthy addition to the band’s catalogue, although unlikely to win them any new fans beyond the usual post-rock base.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Yes - Heaven & Earth

Yes
Heaven & Earth
16 July 2014
Frontiers

2.5 stars out of 5

 

Singer Jon Davison was born a year and a half after Yes released their debut LP in 1969. Now twenty-one albums into their career, the only remaining member of the original Yes line-up is bassist Chris Squire, and only Squire and guitarist Steve Howe remain from the version of the band that recorded 1972’s Close to the Edge, one of the very best records to emerge from the progressive rock scene of the 1970s. Be warned: if you plan to derive any sort of pleasure from Heaven & Earth, do not make any attempt to compare it to that earlier classic album, as it will only lead to deep depression.

While Yes haven’t exhibited any sort of musical forward thinking in some three and a half decades, it’s still a shock to hear just how far the band has fallen from its peak. With the exception of the almost interesting “Light of the Ages” and the slightly more interesting “Subway Walls,” most of Heaven & Earth is an entire thesaurus of adjectives which are synonyms for “dull,” “uninspired,” and “characterless.” The majority of the tracks here are almost offensive in their cheesiness. One is prompted to wonder why the band even bothered to replace the ailing Jon Anderson with anyone at all if that the remaining members were just going to create edgeless elevator music anyway. Should have gone straight for the instrumental dentist’s waiting room music, I say.

If the band had decided to simply cut and paste “Subway Walls” six or seven times and call that the album, it would have warranted three stars (the song’s inclusion here is the only reason the record had more than two stars). It’s a song that recalls the band’s glory days of dynamic arrangements, odd time signatures, and a general sense of inventiveness. On its own it gives hope, but buried in the boring muck that comprises the rest of Heaven & Earth it serves more to depress the listener as an indication of missed opportunities. If you do have the opportunity to miss this record, jump on it.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

La Roux - Trouble in Paradise

La Roux
Trouble in Paradise
18 July 2014
Polydor

4 stars out of 5

 

London’s Elly Jackson returns with her second album as La Roux, following a long break during which she suffered panic attacks, was unable to sing due to throat problems, and split with collaborator Ben Langmaid. Jackson revealed during interviews that Langmaid didn’t actually play anything on the debut record and that his songwriting contributions were minimal. Regardless of Langmaid’s role prior to 2013, his absence hardly makes a difference. Trouble in Paradise is a delightful piece of electro-retro-pop, containing elements of reggae and Italo-disco.

Despite the obvious challenges Jackson faced in the five years between La Roux and Trouble in Paradise, the latter is altogether more sunny and relaxed compared to the former’s barely contained angst and pain. “Silent Partner” seems to be Jackson’s statement on her feelings regarding the split with Langmaid, and she’s not in the mood to sugar coat it. Elsewhere, “Uptight Downtown” and “Cruel Sexuality” are as catchy a pair of pop songs as you’re likely to hear this summer, and the sprawling “Let Me Down Gently” strives for the independence that Jackson eventually achieves during the process of making the record.

As a comeback record, Trouble in Paradise is very good, and as a smart and sexy pop record it’s even better. While it doesn’t contain a hit as memorable as “Bulletproof,” it’s still well worth the listen. Jackson reaffirms her role as one of the modern saviours of pop music.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Plastikman - EX

Plastikman
EX
10 June 2014
Mute

4 stars out of 5

 

Windsor, Ontario’s Richie Hawtin has been an integral part of the Detroit techno scene for two decades now. EX is his first new LP as Plastikman since 2003’s Closer, and it’s still not a proper studio LP. Recorded live at the Guggenheim Museum in New York in 2013, EX doesn’t immediately sound like a live record—there’s no crowd mic—but in terms of how its minimalist waves and tides flow through the listener it definitely feels more human than, say, Plastikman’s classic monster of a record that was 1998’s Consumed. EX feels not improvised, but emoted; not programmed, but played.

Reviewing an electronica record is always a questionable pursuit, but reviewing minimalist techno takes that questionability to new levels. One could talk about the ice cold textures and the ominous bass lines and run out of any meaningful adjectives very quickly. One thing does stand out about EX, however: there’s never a dull moment. Hawtin knows how to build and release, how to make subtle manipulations, and how to bring background sounds to the fore to change the focus so that the tracks breathe, grow, and adapt like living creatures.

EX’s understated majesty blossoms most fully on “EXhale,” the nine-minute closing track that blooms into waves of shifting ambient bliss. While perhaps technically not conforming to an ideal of minimalist perfection as Consumed did, Plastikman’s latest is an engaging slice of techno. Best enjoyed with good headphones, low lighting, and closed eyes.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Cloud Boat - Model of You

Cloud Boat
Model of You
8 July 2014
Apollo

4 stars out of 5

 

Returning after just over a year with their second LP, London-based moody electronica duo Cloud Boat give us Model of You, which is a lot more expansive and fully realized than its predecessor, Book of Hours. Inevitably there will be comparisons to James Blake, which will become more and more meaningless as the number of artists who ply their trade in this genre multiplies.

“Portrait of Eyes” isn’t too far removed from some of Radiohead’s electronic dabblings. The majority of the album, however, is comprised of melancholy ballad-esque pieces, occupying the fog-covered landscape abandoned by the retreating armies of sad ravers and people who knew Burial’s real identity right from the beginning. Stand-out track “The Glow” will find its way onto many a mixed CD that lonely, introspective first-year university kids will make for the girls they like. (If I were that age still I would totally do that. Except now I don’t own any sort of device that can actually play CDs. Oh, this endless march of technology!) “Aurelia” picks things up and achieves a slight bit of menace with its distorted guitar tones; “Thoughts in Mine” sees the tempo increase even more, giving us the first danceable track on the record, while still retaining the angst-ridden tenseness of the rest of the LP. The guitar-based “All of My Years” is the most conventional thing here, a slow waltz of melancholy worthy of slowcore pioneers Low (a good thing).

Model of You ends with the longer, more powerful “Hallow,” which seems to be a signpost at the crossroads for Cloud Boat: will they follow its more rock-oriented beat towards the arenas of the world, or will they retain their melancholy and experimental roots? Why not both? Regardless of future direction, in the present Cloud Boat have given us a very listenable and engaging record in Model of You.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Slow Club - Complete Surrender

Slow Club
Complete Surrender
14 July 2014
Wichita

3.5 stars out of 5

 

Sheffield duo Slow Club return with their third LP, produced by fellow South Yorkshire resident and Pulp alumnus Richard Hawley. It pushes further the Northern Soul hints and clues of their previous record, 2011’s Paradise, resulting in what can only be categorized as “indie soul,” or some other such frustrating and annoying but also rather appropriate genre appellation.

Drummer/singer Rebecca Taylor takes the early lead on the album’s more immediately enjoyable blasts of Phil Spectre-inspired bombast, such as “Suffering You, Suffering Me” and “The Queen’s Nose.” The soaring ballad “Not Mine to Love” and the proto-disco “Complete Surrender” further establish Taylor’s new title as the torch-wielding diva for a new generation. Keyboardist/guitarist/singer Charles Watson seems content to let his band mate take most of the spotlight, saving for himself quiet acoustic moments like “Paraguay and Panama.” Permeating everything here is a sense of deep heartbreak and loss. The shiny Motown veneer only intensifies the sorrow.

It’s fairly safe to say that Slow Club have come completely out of their shell. Complete Surrender renders almost unrecognizable the face of the shy folkies that made Yeah So back in 2009. This is not only a very confident record, it’s a record that is buying drinks for everyone at the pub because it wants—no, demands—dozens of new friends. You’d be well advised to accept the round of tequila shots Taylor and Watson are sending to your table, because this is one party where everybody cries at the end.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Morrissey - World Peace Is None of Your Business

Morrissey
World Peace Is None of Your Business
15 July 2014
Harvest

3.5 stars out of 5

 

The one thing we can count on regarding Morrissey is that he never changes. He never tries to update his sound or take any risks of any kind. Musically, he’s about as predictable as the climax of a porno, but his fans have never been interested in his music—it’s his lyrics that make the world go round. And in the category of wordplay, bad puns, and that simultaneously poisonously cynical and heartbreakingly tender pose that only Moz can pull off, World Peace Is None of Your Business is about as good as it gets.

To begin the new record, his tenth, Morrissey sneers at the democratic process (the title track) and people having babies (“Neal Cassady Drops Dead”). His anti-infant venom simply must be heard to be believed. It’s completely awe-inspiring, really, and to reprint a few lines of the lyrics here wouldn’t do it justice. And then, there’s this: “Hurray, hurray, the bullfighter dies, and nobody cries, because we all want the bull to survive.” Clearly, the Mozzer brought his A-game to the recording studio in terms of his lyrics. So what if the music’s dull and conventional? It’s functional, in that it gives a framework in which Morrissey can input his words, and that’s all that’s really necessary as far as he’s concerned.

It’s probably safe to say that Morrissey stopped caring about staying current and winning new fans a long time ago. Given the ever-growing cult of The Smiths (which was never small to begin with), any new material will always be just be superfluous. Its only real purpose is to remind us that he has a new tour coming up, and while he will never make a bad record, once you’ve heard one Morrissey LP you’ve heard ‘em all.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Klaxons - Love Frequency

Klaxons
Love Frequency
16 June 2014
Akashic

2 stars out of 5

 

It’s difficult to understate just how ridiculous it is for Klaxons to release their third LP, Love Frequency, in this, the year we collectively refer to as 2014. It’s an LP that’s instantly dated, and in the world of dance music, to seem even a few months behind the times can be a death sentence. When Klaxons sing “There Is No Other Time” one is moved to disagree most vehemently, “Of course there is! It was fucking 2007, dudes!” Even worse, tracks like “Show Me a Miracle” are only a few millimetres removed from NSYNC, and there are very few instances in which that could be considered a good thing.

The difference between Love Frequency and 2007’s Myths of the Near Future (apart from the obvious era-inappropriateness) is that the band’s rather fun debut had personality. MotNF was a hand-crafted fig fennel loaf served with Roquefort cheese and organic Bosc pear slices, whereas LF is stale Wonder Bread that’s beginning to develop mould. I mean, yes, technically you could dance to it, but you could also dance to a sample of my fist punching your face if someone set the tempo to 120 bpm and added some ambient goat sounds. (If you actually do this, I demand half of the composer royalties, motherfucker.) Upon learning that Love Frequency took some three years to record, jaws are bound to drop in wonder at how uninteresting and unimportant a final product could result from such a long process. Peter Gabriel takes three years to record half a song, and while it might not be your cup of tea, at least you would acknowledge that those two or three minutes are going to be packed with detail, intricacies, and a sign that someone was awake during the recording process and making a real effort to push the envelope. It seems like Klaxons spent those three years systematically erasing all of the elements that made them even remotely interesting, and the result is the sterile No Name Brand product that is defiling my ears at this very moment.

The only track on here worth checking out is “Atom to Atom,” but don’t be fooled—the remainder of the album is far below this song, which itself would be a B-side by any other band, or filler to pad out a double-CD at best. This is faint praise for a weak track, but this is as good as it gets here, folks. Enjoy doing whatever it is you were doing that wasn’t listening to this record, because it was probably a lot less boring, no matter what it was.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Honeyblood - Honeyblood

Honeyblood
Honeyblood
14 July 2014
Fat Cat

4 stars out of 5

Glasgow’s Honeyblood have released some killer singles (“Bud,” “Killer Bangs,” “No Spare Key,” etc) en route to their eponymous debut LP, and while it was clear from the start that these two dudettes worship the lo-fi indie scene of the ‘90s, now there is absolutely no doubt about their agenda: make incredibly catchy tunes that will have Murderecords aficionados salivating, and make lots of them.

“Fall Forever,” “Killer Bangs,” and “Super Rat” is the best one-two-three statement of indie pop intent you’ll find for miles and miles. And things don’t drop off after that: “Biro” and “Bud” are both strong tracks that stand up on their own. “Choker” is the highlight of the album—a chilling first-person narrative of an abusive relationship (“I don’t think he would hurt me / I know he would”), punctuated by beautiful two-part harmonies and some delicious guitar noise reminiscent of Helium’s early work. “No Spare Key” showcases singer/guitarist Stina’s incredibly expressive voice against a backdrop of jangle and clang that will have K Records obsessives breathless by the end of its three and a half minutes. “All Dragged Up” sees the Glaswegians rocking out a bit, and then the closer “Braid Burn Valley (Blink, Now You’ve Missed It)” brings some serious grunge-y noise to the proceedings, propelling the angst of the song (“another fucking bruise / this one just like a rose”) to catharsis.

Honeyblood is a very sophisticated and nuanced take on a genre that was celebrated for its simplicity, but have no fear, as Honeyblood’s sophistication only adds to the pleasure. The duo’s dark mood permeates the music, giving the catchy vocal hooks a dangerous slant that makes them all the more appealing. Highly recommended.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Manic Street Preachers - Futurology

Manic Street Preachers
Futurology
7 July 2014
Columbia

3.5 stars out of 5

 

Futurology marks an even dozen LPs for Welsh alt-politico rockers Manic Street Preachers. As usual, it’s a grand statement of arena rock proportions, this time touching on topics such as the recent misdeeds of Russia and the brittle, hollow shell that is the European Union. And, while tags such as “grand statement” and “arena rock” are usually complete turn-offs in today’s musical climate of irony, cynicism, and detached cool, the intense intelligence of this record simply cannot be denied. (Not even by me, and believe me, I tried.)

Let’s get right to the good stuff: “Let’s Go to War” is a poisoned dagger right in the heart of the impotent corpse that is international diplomacy in 2014. Think Frankie Goes to Hollywood updated for the scene 30 years later, which, unfortunately for everybody, seems to have returned to the tense, threatening gloom that was the 1980s. “Europa Geht Durch Mich” takes a groove reminiscent of Goldfrapp’s “Train” and builds it into the chilling, faux-nationalist refrain that serves as the spine for the record. German actress Nina Hoss provides vocals for the song, lines of which reappear on multiple tracks later on the record.

“The misguided tweets, the sad Facebooking / cheapness surrounds me, but I’m not looking.” So sings James Dean Bradfield on “The View from Stow Hill,” a commentary on the band’s home city of Newport, Wales. Is he not looking in order to concentrate on the positive, or because he knows that social media is yet another form of distraction? In our société du spectacle, when the government isn’t providing us with war to keep us happy, we are forced to turn ourselves into entertainment for others through our tweets and posts. If we are society, then aren’t we also the spectacle?

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Comet Gain - Paperback Ghosts

Comet Gain
Paperback Ghosts
7 July 2014
Fortuna Pop!

4 stars out of 5

 

Twenty-two years and seven albums into their career, London’s Comet Gain have become almost the perfect embodiment of literate British indie pop. As the album’s title would suggest, this is an album comprised of and influenced by stories. There’s even a track early on called “‘Sad Love’ and Other Short Stories” to help you settle into the mood. Eleven-ballads-plus-a-rocker might be a formula of death for your typical arena band, but Comet Gain really don’t give a rat’s ass about all that, and their latest LP, Paperback Ghosts, sees them as uncompromising as ever.

“I’m affected by the corniest scenes of the cheesiest movies,” sings David Bower (or David Feck, if you prefer) on “The Last Love Letter.” Like the balance of the record, it’s an unassuming, delicate folky pop song, somewhere between Belle and Sebastian’s more elaborately-arranged twee pop and The Clientele’s baroque take on psychedelia. (It’s perhaps not a coincidence that the latter’s bassist, James Hornsey, is now also in Comet Gain.) However, Paperback Ghosts lacks any corn or cheese; indeed, this is a very honest-sounding record, as disarming as it is ambitious. It lacks most of the remaining tendencies to rock out that may have been still lingering on their last LP, 2011’s Howl of the Lonely Crowd; these are largely relegated to the album closer, “Confessions of a Daydream,” in which the band rip it up in the manner of their good old garage rock days.

This is perhaps the easiest record to digest for people new to the band, but it’s simultaneously their strongest work. Both newcomers and die hard fans will be happy with Paperback Ghosts. Let’s all take a moment to thank Comet Gain for this album and their existence in general. Thank you, guys.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Braid - No Coast

Braid
No Coast
8 July 2014
Top Shelf

2.5 stars out of 5

 

In what qualifies as Braid’s first proper studio LP since 1998’s Frame and Canvas, the bubblegum-emo No Coast isn’t likely to earn the once-almost-relevant band any new fans over the age of 16, but for those still in junior high this record will likely be seen as some sort of life-changing emotional experience. (Hint: it isn’t. Not even remotely. But if you’re 14 then you’re not reading this anyway, so whatever.) The only emotion anyone older would likely experience listening to this is a slight sense of nausea, perhaps coupled with mild skin irritation and minor discomfort in the bowels.

While there are some moments on No Coast that suggest something vaguely interesting musically—“Put Some Wings on That Kid,” “Doing Yourself In”—for the most part the sugary vocals and adolescent melodies are off-putting at best and mass-murder-spree-inducing at worst. If you’re a depressed teen, this is probably right up your alley. And hey, I’m not judging as I used to be one of those too, but luckily for me there was no emo to serve as the soundtrack to self-cutting episodes (don’t worry, Mom, I never did that). I had The Cure’s Faith and Pornography and basically the entire Smiths catalogue to mope along to, and I’m a better person for it. Besides, No Coast isn’t even all that sad, it’s basically just annoying.

And, you know what? Even “Put Some Wings on That Kid” is annoying by the third listen. Sartre’s protagonist claimed that la nausée was caused by those people and objects around him that threatened his identity, but for me it’s this fucking record that threatens to bring up my lunch. I know what you’re thinking: look at the old guy, grumbling about how back in his day he had to take the bus all the way to the nearest record store in order to buy that Seventeen Seconds cassette, when these kids today can just access that shit from the cloud any time they feel like it. And you’d be right. But still, fuck this record.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Remember Remember - Forgetting the Present

Remember Remember
Forgetting the Present
30 June 2014
Rock Action

3 stars out of 5

 

Forgetting the Present is the third LP by Glaswegian instrumental band Remember Remember. Of course, when one thinks “Glasgow” and “instrumental band,” one usually thinks of Mogwai, so it’s of minimal surprise that the double-R crew is signed to that Scottish post-rock institution’s Rock Action label. However, beyond the superficial and rather trivial intersections of geography and (presumably) friend circles, Remember Remember have little in common musically with their elder patrons.

Forgetting the Present opens with “Blabbermouth,” which is situated in the blissful chill-out tent somewhere between Tangerine Dream and Michael Brook. It sets the tone for the album: New Age-y keyboard bits and bytes, functional drum and bass parts, fairly pedestrian rhythms and time signatures. This is a band that takes very few risks. Once the listener makes it to track four, “The Old Ways,” it’s apparent that everything is going to sound the same: the keyboard melodies are derivative of each other, and with no character injected into the music apart beyond that, Forgetting the Present quickly becomes tiresome listening. I suppose if you were stoned out of your tree this sort of thing might seem deep or revelatory, but who cares what a stoner thinks about anything? Seriously.

But then “Pterodactyl” comes along, with its quirky Stereolab-ish groove, and things seem to be looking up. Could it provide the creative momentum to save the record from drifting listlessly in the doldrums? Alas, no. The band was just teasing us. For the remaining three tracks they fall back into predictable New Age clichés, the sort that could provide the score to a documentary on the Oort cloud or the incredible and fascinating world of evaporation (to be perfectly honest, I would totally watch both of those). All told, this is a disappointing record. “Pterodactyl” is worth the listen, but beyond that, there’s nothing here that demands your close attention.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Glass Animals - Zaba

Glass Animals
Zaba
3 June 2014
Wolf Tone/Harvest

4 stars out of 5

 

Oxford trip-hoppers Glass Animals present their debut LP, Zaba, for your consideration. What? You thought trip-hop was long dead? Well, of course it is, but unlike many of the taggers-along during the genre’s heyday almost twenty years ago (Sneaker Pimps, anyone?), Glass Animals have the talent to make it on their own, outside of the sheltering umbrella of a trendy movement. Besides, ain’t no turntable scratching to be found here, so why even bother with the trip-hop label in the first place?

Glass Animals have far more in common with contemporaries like The xx or James Blake than they do with genre pioneers Portishead or Luke Vibert, though they don’t follow the same minimalist path to the heart of soul music as The xx. Tracks like “Black Mambo” and “Walla Walla” are filled to the brim with embellishment and detail. But rather than feel mired down with over-production, the music derives extra power and energy from the full arrangements. Album highlight “Toes” is a seductively playful romp through the R&B classic era of the ‘60s, but trading in the horns and guitars for grinding, ambient noise-filled synths. The slinky “Cocoa Hooves” is as close to mainstream R&B as it gets here, although musically this is one weird-ass track and would likely never receive much airplay on Top 40 radio because of it.

Zaba is a very impressive debut. And let’s discard the trip-hop label, shall we? Can’t we just call this whole movement—from How to Dress Well to SOHN to James Blake to The xx—a long-overdue second wave of blue-eyed soul? Regardless of what it ends up being filed under in the annals of history, this is some good shit, and you’d be well-advised to check it out.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Eno • Hyde - High Life

Eno • Hyde
High Life
30 June 2014
Warp

4 stars out of 5

 

Coming less than two months after their previous LP, Someday World, Brian Eno and Karl Hyde present us with their second full-length LP, High Life. Contrary to what you might expect, the latest LP isn’t comprised of outtakes from the sessions of the first; in fact, it was conceived and executed in its entirety after the earlier record had been completed. At this rate we should have another three or four LPs by the duo by the year’s end, right?

The album gets of on the right foot with “Return,” a two chord dirge that packs so many tiny sonic details into its nine minutes that it never fails to fascinate. It’s not quite E2-E4, but its exploration of the possibilities of an incredibly simple progression still thrills and fascinates. The vaguely Afrobeat “DBF” recalls Eno’s association circa 1980 with Talking Heads. “Lilac” juxtaposes a kind of pastoral folk hymn overtop a busy guitar-centered base of polyrhythms. “Moulded Life” is a neo-industrial piece that actually invokes industry: there’s a vast, toxin-filled, concrete urbanscape within the track, at once oppressively and excitingly modern. The almost free-form “Cells & Bells” ends things on a note that is both angst-filled and optimistic—our technology has brought us to this place, and only our technology can bring us out of it.

Far more interesting and compelling than the somewhat stale-sounding Someday World, the longer pieces on High Life give the impression that Eno and Hyde are hitting their stride in their work together. Given Eno’s tendency to flit from flower to flower in his collaborative work, it’s not a sure thing that he will continue to work with Hyde in the near future, but if the duo continue to produce fruit like High Life, let’s hope that he does.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Total Control - Typical System

Total Control
Typical System
24 June 2014
Iron Lung

4 stars out of 5

 

If you ever were looking for that missing link between Kraftwerk and The Fall, you can end your search here, with Melbourne’s post-punk outfit Total Control. Just as comfortable with keyboards, drum machines, and faux-German accents as they are with drums, guitars, and caustic growls and barks, Total Control perhaps superficially seem like more of a concept than a living, breathing band, but their instrumental line-up and sound were arrived at through an organic, trial-and-error process rather than through some calculated, image-focused, cynicism made flesh.

Picking out the influences is as easy as hunting cows: Kraftwerk, Joy Division, Gary Numan, etc—though on tracks like “Black Spring,” Dan Stewart & Co. come off as some late-‘60s psychedelic garage band that stumbled across Wire late in life and decided that it was the coolest shit ever (which, of course, it is). “Flesh War” could easily be the result of some clandestine swapping of spit between Gary Numan and The Chameleons. After the relative doom of the bulk of the record, the contrastingly uplifting closer “Safety Net” feels like walking into an air-conditioned café on an oppressively hot day—it’s Total Control’s version of “The Morning Fog” to close off The Ninth Wave. (If you don’t know what that means, you need to study your Kate Bush more carefully. Yes, there will be a test.)

Typical System is a worthy continuation of the project that Total Control initiated with 2011’s Henge Beat. Now, if we could just convince these guys to tour—or at least play a concert more than once a year or so—the world would be a better place. Until then, we have these two pretty nifty LPs to tide us over.

reviewed by Richard Krueger

Strand of Oaks - Heal

Strand of Oaks
Heal
24 June 2014
Dead Oceans

3.5 stars out of 5

 

Heal, the debut LP by Strand of Oaks, kicks off with “Goshen ’97,” which sounds at first like a lost Dinosaur Jr. track (except for the very obvious drum machine). One look at the credits reveals why: the lead guitar work is provided by J. Mascis. It’s just one element in Indiana songwriter Timothy Showalter’s musical periodic table—the next couple of tracks, “Heal” and “Same Emotions,” belong to the Noble New Wave Gasses (though they’re not exactly inert—okay, bad metaphor; sorry). Throughout the album Showalter switches between Crazy Horse-tinged guitar rock and ‘80s AT40 pop, which, in the end, is perhaps less bizarre a juxtaposition as it seems.

Despite the pop-under-crazy-guitars first half of the record, the centerpiece of the album—the epic “JM,” a tribute to Songs: Ohia leader Jason Molina—strikes a very different chord. (Oh! I’m horrible, folks. Be glad you don’t have to work with me. Or date me.) On it, through his soloing, Showalter reveals his love for Neil Young, and then fully embraces said love on the equally sprawling “Mirage Year.” “I’m giving up getting over you,” Showalter sings on the closing “Wait for Love,” another tribute to ‘80s pop.

Each new generation explores the ‘80s and returns with their own reconstructed version of it (all of which are less about the ‘80s as they are about the decade they live in themselves). While ten years ago Franz Ferdinand, Interpol, and a host of others explored the post-punk and New Wave movements of the first half of that fabled (snark alert!) decade, today Strand of Oaks is adventuring over the long-discarded terrain of late-‘80s mainstream pop. The difference is that post-punk and New Wave were considered at the time (and still today) to be cool and exciting genres, while the stuff Showalter is revisiting was never considered even remotely cool or exciting, not even (or perhaps especially) at the time of its release. Despite this, Showalter’s retro-melodies work, and work well. Heal is a very contemporary, very listenable record. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an intense urge to throw on Anita Baker’s Rapture and get down with my bad self.

reviewed by Richard Krueger