Singer/songwriter/guitar-shredder Annie Clark\'s fourth studio album as St. Vincent is, simply, her best yet. While her catalog is full of twists and turns, including 2013 David Byrne collaboration *Love This Giant*, this self-titled release is both audacious *and* accessible, a canny balancing of Clark\'s experimental leanings with her pop sensibility. Amid a flurry of sonic textures ranging from the clamoring horn section of \"Digital Witness\" to the subdued balladry of \"Prince Johnny,\" Clark critiques our technology-obsessed culture (\"Huey Newton\"), satirizes suburban ennui (\"Birth in Reverse\"), and shares about her love for her mother (\"I Prefer Your Love\"). Her anxieties laid bare, the songwriter asserts herself via pyrotechnic guitar riffs, rhythmic somersaults, and a wayfaring vocal range, resulting in a vertiginous set that\'s as dizzying as it is captivating.
Despite his reputation as something of a hard-partying rock prankster (not many musicians play a guitar customized with an old beer bottle cap), Mac DeMarco, on record at least, has always been a hopeless romantic. And here, on his second album, the Canadian singer/songwriter effectively leans into loverman mode (just see “Let My Baby Stay”). But “Passing Out Pieces” is a particular marvel: Cast in cloudy synths and dark humor, it’s the sound of slacker rock’s clown prince getting serious.
“As I’m getting older, chip up on my shoulder…” is the opening line from Mac DeMarco’s second full-length LP ‘Salad Days,’ the follow up to 2012’s lauded ‘Mac DeMarco 2.’ Amongst that familiar croon and lilting guitar, that initial line from the title track sets the tone for an LP of a maturing singer/songwriter/producer. Someone strangely self-aware of the positives and negatives of their current situation at the ripe old age of 23. Written and recorded around a relentless tour schedule (which picked up all over again as soon as the LP was done), ‘Salad Days’ gives the listener a very personal insight into what it’s all about to be Mac amidst the craziness of a rising career in a very public format. The lead single, “Passing Out Pieces,” set to huge overdriven organ chords, contains lines like “…never been reluctant to share, passing out pieces of me…” Clearly, Salad Days isn’t the same record that breezily gave us “Dreamin,” and “Ode to Viceroy,” but the result of what comes from their success. “Chamber of Reflection,” a track featuring icy synth stabs and soulful crooning, wouldn’t be out of place on a fantasy Shuggie Otis and Prince collaboration. Standout tracks like these show Mac’s widening sound, whether insights into future directions or even just welcome one-off forays into new territory. Still, this is musically, lyrically and melodically good old Mac DeMarco, through and through. The same crisp John Lennon / Phil Spector era homegrown lush production that could have walked out of Geoff Emerick’s mixing board in 1972, but with that peculiar Mac touch that’s completely of right now. “Brother,” a complete future classic, is Mac at his most soulful and easygoing but with that distinct weirdness and bite that can only come from Mr. DeMarco.“Treat Her Better” is rife with “Mac-isms,” heavily chorused slinky lead guitar, swooning vocal melodies, effortless chords that come along only after years of effort, and the other elements seriously lacking in independent music: sentiment and heartfelt sincerity. We’re only at Part 2 and 1/2 (one EP and two LP’s in) into Mac’s career.
With 2011’s *Slave Ambient*, The War on Drugs offered a collection of emotionally rich, guitar-driven grandeur that earned songwriter/bandleader Adam Granduciel accolades from far beyond his hometown scene in Philadelphia. The War on Drugs’ fourth full-length operates with a bigger, bolder agenda—evident in the clattering electronics and hypnotic production of the nearly nine-minute opener, “Under the Pressure”. From there, *Lost in the Dream* unfolds with warm, melancholic rock that combines Granduciel’s mystical tenor with a blurry haze of vintage synths, chiming guitars, horn accents and reverb-soaked ambience. Uptempo tracks like “Red Eyes” and “An Ocean in Between the Waves” juxtapose pulsing, mechanical backbeats with droning synths. Ballads, like the heartbreaking “Suffering” and the gently paced title track, float along in a beautiful fog. After *Lost in the Dream* closes with a couple of minutes of wordless feedback, the album leaves a hypnotic, lingering impression.
'Lost In The Dream' is the third album by Philadelphia band The War on Drugs, but in many ways, it feels like the first. Around the release of the 2011 breakthrough 'Slave Ambient', Adam Granduciel spent the bulk of two years on the road, touring through progressively larger rock clubs, festival stages and late-night television slots. As these dozen songs shifted and grew beyond what they’d been in the studio, The War on Drugs became a bona fide rock ’n’ roll band. That essence drives 'Lost In The Dream', a 10-song set produced by Granduciel and longtime engineer Jeff Zeigler. In the past, Granduciel built the core of songs largely by himself. But these tunes were played and recorded by the group that had solidified so much on the road: Dave Hartley, (his favorite bassist in the world), who had played a bit on The War on Drugs’ 2008 debut 'Wagonwheel Blues', and pianist Robbie Bennett, a multi-instrumentalist who contributed to 'Slave Ambient'. This unit spent eight months bouncing between a half-dozen different studios that stretched from the mountains of North Carolina to the boroughs of New York City. Only then did Granduciel—the proudly self-professed gearhead, and unrepentant perfectionist—add and subtract, invite guests and retrofit pieces. He sculpted these songs into a musical rescue mission, through and then beyond personal despair and anxiety. 'Lost In The Dream' represents the trials of the trip and the triumphs of its destination.
On his first album in 13 years, Richard D. James, the godfather of cerebral electronic music, is in top form. This isn\'t a comeback, nor a departure of any kind: *Syro* sounds like highly concentrated, classic Aphex Twin, a singular aesthetic that dates all the way back to 1982: beat patterns wiggle into the foreground, then disappear; analog synths snap, crackle and pop; moods vacillate between aggressively percussive and smoothly melodic. These tracks – they work together like one long set -- demand to be listened to with excellent headphones, the better to discern their highly intricate sequencing, arguably some of James\' most ambitious. Each tune is teeming with juicy noise, all of it gleefully arranged. What comes through most is joy: it sounds like James is having so much fun.
Following the liquid beats of his 2010 breakout, *Swim*, Caribou’s Dan Snaith has fallen further in love with the dance floor. In his entrancing follow-up, *Our Love*, Snaith blends house, hip-hop, garage, and vintage soul. On “Can’t Do Without You,” Snaith flips a slowed-down soul sample into a vocal mantra that eventually bursts amidst rave-ready synths, while on late highlight “Mars,” he mixes intricate drum patterns, hip-hop samples, and one very nimble flute melody.
Five years have passed since La Roux owned the charts with \"Bulletproof,\" during which time vocalist Elly Jackson endured vocal problems and the departure of collaborator Ben Langmaid. Now she\'s released *Trouble in Paradise*, which, despite its ominous title, is full of vibrant, sun-splashed rhythms. Indeed, the rebooted La Roux was worth the wait. Whereas the group\'s debut succeeded on the strength of its icy throb and aggressive sentiments (\"I\'m going in for the kill!\"), *Trouble* proves that Jackson is human after all, infusing her sound with ska, reggae, and the exuberant \'80s pop of groups like General Public and Missing Persons. \"Kiss and Not Tell\" is effervescent electro, while \"Tropical Chancer\" features slinking guitars à la Nile Rodgers. Past and present collide on \"Silent Partner,\" a pulsing reminder that Jackson remains bulletproof when it comes to riling up a dancefloor.
The Tampa, Fla.–based Merchandise signed to the influential U.K. label 4AD and performed a stylistic about-face for their third album, *After the End*. Adding two full-time members to flesh out the trio’s sound, the band set about recording and producing their music over a six-month period in their Tampa house. Gareth Jones (who’s twiddled dials for Depeche Mode, Interpol, and Grizzly Bear) helps out with the mixing, but the performances are the sound of a band growing up. No longer aiming for the aggression of postpunk, the band recreate the suave sounds of the late ‘80s. “Enemy” snags the opening riff to The Rolling Stones’ “Jumping Jack Flash” and makes it dance for a new century. “True Monument” lets singer Carson Cox put his baritone to good use, which he continues to do on songs like “Green Lady,” “Life Outside the Mirror,\" and “Looking Glass Waltz,” emerging in the process as a leader of considerable power.
*Rips* indeed. Ex Hex’s debut delivers a steady stream of muscular riffs, dirty hooks, and sticky melodies. It’s tight, lean, and a lot of fun. Made up of singer and guitarist Mary Timony (Helium, Wild Flag, solo), drummer Laura Harris (The Aquarium), and bassist Betsy Wright (The Fire Tapes), Ex Hex cross garage rock with power pop. It’s not revolutionary, but it’s done well. You can pump your fist to it while appreciating Timony’s clever and often biting lyrics and straight-ahead guitar solos. Longtime Timony fans will also notice the difference in her voice. Trading her hushed vocals for a full-throated wail, here she sounds tough and assured.
Future Island’s fourth album and debut for 4AD deserves the title *Singles* since it does play out like an album of individual tracks with great commercial potential all joined as one. The Baltimore trio’s powerful sound is based in synths and electric basslines, from J. Gerrit Welmers and William Cashion, respectively. Together, they layer and push forward an orchestrated groove that’s both modern and steeped in the tradition of Philly soul, glam rock, and postpunk. Singer Samuel T. Herring—a stage hound who captures the audience’s imagination with the movements of a boxer—provides a soulful croon on record that can turn into a virile growl. It’s Joy Division as ballet for “Back in the Tall Grass” and Blue Nile/Talk Talk/Roxy Music for the inescapable hooks of “Seasons (Waiting on You),” “Spirit,\" and “Doves.” Producer Chris Coady (known for his work with Beach House and Grizzly Bear) works with Welmers’ synth loops and smartly composed parts until everything meshes together beautifully for a perfect musicality.
There’s nothing quite like British postpunk anger, and the Leeds-based twentysomethings in Eagulls—who rail against their perennially grey skies and drudging nine-to-five existence—provide both a voice and an escape for young people everywhere. Elements of Killing Joke (whom they’ve covered in the past), Joy Division, The Clash, Gang of Four, and countless British bands flow through their agitated veins. Their 2013 U.K. single “Nerve Endings”—now the opening track on their self-titled debut album—finds frontman George Mitchell in full mental freakout, noting his self-loathing is “growing worse each day and night.” The band join him like an angry gang supporting one of its own on tracks such as “Tough Luck” and “Amber Veins,” where the outrage spreads to drugs leading to birth defects and heroin addicts. Of course, figuring out the source of the band’s disgust takes patience or serious research. The accents are thick; this adds to the raw, brittle attack. In truth, it’s reaffirming to hear a band more interested in expressing their frustrations than finding ways to make nice.
The first time that Mike Kerr and Ben Thatcher played in a room together as Royal Blood, the noise they created was so ferocious that it made frontman Kerr burst out laughing in astonishment. “How can we be this loud with just bass and drums?” they wondered. “From the first note, it was just like this energy exploded in the room,” Kerr tells Apple Music. “I was just like, ‘Oh my god, this sounds so good.’” It was a sentiment shared across the globe over the next year and a half as the pair’s blend of heavy riffs, bluesy licks, pummeling drums, and anthemic choruses earned their 2014 debut a Mercury nomination and made it one of the biggest British rock albums of the decade. It was a surreal period for Kerr and Thatcher, who knew their music was connecting on a huge scale—not just because of lofty chart positions and a rapidly growing diehard fanbase, but also because of the rock icons watching on from the crowd. Jimmy Page, Muse, and Metallica were among those who turned up to witness Royal Blood’s blistering live show in those early days, performances that prompted Rage Against the Machine’s Tom Morello to tweet, “I’ve seen the future of riff rock and its name is #RoyalBlood.” “It made us realize how small the rock community had become, because it meant that we were flying a flag for something that wasn’t really being represented either very well or by anyone that has actually had success,” says Kerr. The torch had been passed. Royal Blood’s debut heralded the arrival of a brilliant rock talent. Kerr and Thatcher guide us through it, track by track. **Out of the Black** Mike Kerr: “It seemed like the ultimate entrance. I was thinking of ‘Killing in the Name’—if that’s your opening statement, it’s just so bold. We were actually in the middle of writing ‘Loose Change’ when we wrote it. The beat was an alternate beat to ‘Loose Change.’ There was a moment where I was tuning, or doing something, and Ben was rehearsing it on his own. And I just copied what he was doing. Because of the way we were writing in the room together, it just felt very immediate. It was so heavy. And so simple and dumb. It’s the simplest riff we have. I think it’s really important to have a song on your first record that says, ‘This is who we are.’” Ben Thatcher: “It’s in your face. As soon as the first beat hits, you know it’s Royal Blood.” **Come On Over** MK: “This was a song I’d always done at open mic nights, which is really how I started singing. I would get really, really drunk so I had the confidence to get out and do it. I would try and impress a girl that was there, and probably fail. ‘Come On Over’ was a sort of bluesy song that I had, and when we were making the record, we put it into the way we were playing songs and it fit perfectly. It was very bluesy, but it had a metal thing to it as well. Everyone who’d seen me play it at open mic night would say they really didn’t like the version that I did in Royal Blood. They said, ‘Oh, you should keep it acoustic. It sounded really cool. And now you’ve ruined it.’” **Figure It Out** MK: “Again, this was a tune that was always in my back pocket. It was sort of written, or at least finished, live. It was always in pieces and the music was the bit that was always established. I never really knew what I was going to do on the vocals, so I would always ad-lib. I would just put so much delay on my vocals that you couldn’t hear what I was saying because I never had lyrics. I would just mumble. That wasn’t a rarity. We’d sometimes go out and play festivals with songs that weren’t finished. The song gives up on itself after the second chorus, and just sort of goes off into this other thing. I realize now it’s something we do a lot. It’s almost like a signature move.” **You Can Be So Cruel** MK: “I think this started off acoustically. It’s very inspired by Goldfrapp, who I love. We were thinking about what kind of rhythms and feel we didn’t have on the album. We were like, ‘We should have one that does that swung thing, that glam thing.’” BT: “The ending is the same thing as ‘Figure It Out’ and you can tell it’s come from a batch of songs written around the same time, because...” MK: “We get to the second chorus and just do another riff...” BT: “Exactly.” **Blood Hands** MK: “I actually started this when I was picking up weed, when you have to linger around a stranger’s house. I’d get way too stoned, and I’d listen to this guy playing his songs and they were really, really bad. While he was rolling this massive joint, I started playing this. It’s why it’s so stoned, that intro, it’s just like one note. For the lyrics, I was just really inspired by Jeff Buckley. I really didn’t know how to express myself honestly then. I was a lot younger and I hadn’t written that many songs. I wouldn’t say there’s a common lyrical theme that runs through the record, but I was born very religious and I was leaving that behind—that reveals itself time and time again. I’d gone through a breakup as well.” **Little Monster** MK: “This was born out of jamming together. I was listening to a lot of Them Crooked Vultures, and also we were really into that kind of ‘Foxy Lady’ real swung riff thing. I think Foo Fighters had just released *Wasting Light* and there’s a song on that called ‘Rope.’ I think I subconsciously had the chorus of ‘Rope’ in my mind. It’s not a rip-off, but it’s the same feeling in the chorus.” **Loose Change** MK: “When we first started playing together in this band, I very much had my rock brain on. But Ben comes from a much more varied background and has a lot more of a hip-hop influence. This was a cool moment where it was Ben bringing music he loves, and grooves that I wouldn’t have thought of, into the band. We were really into Jack White as well. It felt like a hip-hop take on a Jack White tune.” BT: “It was quite a hard song to write. We were always searching for the chorus and one never really came. It has this break moment which I guess we would call the chorus now.” **Careless** BT: “Musically, this was the first one where Mike had some ideas for the sound of his guitars.” MK: “I put two guitar strings on the bass and tuned them up to whatever they could take. And it’s quite an unusual riff. You try and play that on a standard guitar, it’s like jazz. Because I tuned the strings in such a way, I was playing very simple shapes, but it created that melody. This song was like really born out of playing live and bouncing off each other.” **Ten Tonne Skeleton** MK: “We’d finished what we thought was the album and then our label and manager were like, ‘I think you need to come up with more songs,’ doing the intelligent thing of just pushing us further. But we were already on the road and were really busy. There was a lot of writing in hotel rooms and seeing if there was any scraps left over, things we could use to get songs going. This and ‘Better Strangers’ were the two songs we wrote and finished in the same session, just before Glastonbury 2014. I think we got to the point where we were so immersed in the world we’d created, and you know exactly what it is you’re chasing. Right at the end in the process you’re so well-versed in what you’re doing.” **Better Strangers** MK: “It felt like a natural end. I think we also liked the idea of the album being slightly chronological as well. There’s a natural progression.” BT: “We’d got more used to being in the studio by this time—knowing what protocol was, and what you do, and how to get those sounds. We just were a bit more experienced. Having been through gigging, and touring, we were a bit more confident in ourselves, so when it came to these last two, they just sounded a bit different.”
When *Lazaretto* roars to action with the sweltering, Hammond-driven rocker “Three Women,” Jack White is on familiar terrain, unleashing a supercharged, garagey blues riff that’s as archetypal as the theme. But when the “red, blonde, and brunette” ladies in question appear in a “digital photograph,” the anachronism is a striking reminder of White’s gift for recasting classic musical elements in arrestingly modern contexts. There are plenty of such moments on *Lazaretto*, like when the title track’s heavy bass rumble is augmented with a squall of 8-bit Atari noise *and* a vaguely Appalachian fiddle solo. Throughout, White’s brand of heated, high-powered blues-rock dominates, but he mixes things up with breezy, country-inflected charmers (“Temporary Ground”, “Entitlement”) and eerie, would-be spaghetti western themes (“Would You Fight for My Love?” “I Think I Found the Culprit”). The album’s best tracks, like “Alone in My Home” and “Just One Drink,” combine all of the above in a heady, hot-blooded, hook-oriented package.
FKA twigs’ first full-length album brims with spartan, icy songs that whisk between distorted R&B and ethereal pop. While twigs’ pristine vocals and sensual lyrics are the cornerstone, *LP1* showcases the kind of confident production and instrumentation that play easily alongside celebrated pop minimalists like James Blake. Album highlight “Pendulum\" sees FKA twigs dabbling in manipulated vocals, as wavering guitars and electric drums stutter-step intoxicatingly, while “Video Girl” finds her melodic falsetto fluttering over churning, wobbling synths and creaking percussion.
At two hours in length, *To Be Kind* shows Michael Gira’s Swans are as serious, demanding and extreme in 2014 as they were back in the early ‘80s when their music was either greatly praised or harshly condemned. There is little middle ground for this group and anyone spooked by the 12-1/2 minute Howlin’ Wolf Tribute “Just A Little Boy” should probably not go forward. However, for fans of slow, gothic, death-rattle Swans, the track is just one sign that the band’s sessions with John Congleton at Sonic Ranch, outside El Paso, Texas were an overwhelming success. Much of the material was developed live during the tours of 2012-13 and explains why there is so much to sift through. Special guests such as Little Annie, who duets with Gira on “Some Things We Do,” Cold Specks, whose multi-tracked vocals guide “Bring the Sun” and honorary Swan Bill Rieflin filled out the sessions that were recorded with a solid sextet in place. “A Little God In My Hands” adds a touch of Krautrock to its elliptical groove. The 34-minute “Bring the Sun/ Tousaaint L’Ouverture” is a complex epic worthy of their reputation.
A NOTE FROM MICHAEL GIRA: Hello There, We (Swans) have recently completed our new album. It is called To Be Kind. The release date is set for May 13, 2014. It will be available as a triple vinyl album, a double CD, and a 2XCD Deluxe Edition that will include a live DVD. It will also be available digitally. The album was produced by me, and it was recorded by the venerable John Congleton at Sonic Ranch, outside El Paso Texas, and further recordings and mixing were accomplished at John’s studio in Dallas, Texas. We commenced rehearsals as Sonic Ranch in early October 2013, began recording soon thereafter, then completed the process of mixing with John in Dallas by mid December 2013. A good portion of the material for this album was developed live during the Swans tours of 2012/13. Much of the music was otherwise conjured in the studio environment. The recordings and entire process of this album were generously and perhaps vaingloriously funded by Swans supporters through our auspices at younggodrecords.com via the release of a special, handmade 2xCD live album entitled Not Here / Not Now. The Swans are: Michael Gira, Norman Westberg, Christoph Hahn, Phil Puleo, Thor Harris, Christopher Pravdica. Special Guests for this record include: Little Annie (Annie sang a duet with me on the song Some Things We Do, the strings for which were ecstatically arranged and played by Julia Kent); St. Vincent (Annie Clark sang numerous, multi-tracked vocals throughout the record); Cold Specks (Al contributed numerous multi-tracked vocals to the song “Bring the Sun”); Bill Rieflin (honorary Swan Bill played instruments ranging from additional drums, to synthesizers, to piano, to electric guitar and so on. He has been a frequent contributor to Swans and Angels of Light and is currently playing with King Crimson)... FULL MUSICIAN CREDITS:Swans: Michael Gira - vocals, electric and acoustic guitar; Norman Westberg - electric guitar, acoustic guitar, vocals; Phil Puleo - drums, percussion, dulcimer, piano, keys, vocals; Christoph Hahn - lap steel guitars, electric guitar, vocals; Thor Harris - drums / percussion, vibes and bells, wind instruments, handmade viola, vocals; Christopher Pravdica - bass guitar, acoustic guitar, vocals. Honorary Swan Forever: Bill Rieflin - (on multiple songs throughout the record) drums / percussion, piano, bass, guitar, synths, keyboards. Guest Musicians: Duet with MG on Some Things We Do - Little Annie. Strings and String Arrangement on Some Things We Do - Julia Kent. Background Vocals on Nathalie Neal, Bring the Sun, Screen Shot, Kirsten Supine - St. Vincent (appears courtesy of Loma Vista Recordings). Background vocals on Bring the Sun - Cold Specks (appears courtesy of Mute Artists LTD). Background Vocals on She Loves Us, A Little God in My Hands - Jennifer Church. More Musicians (Dallas): Violin - Daniel Hart; Mandolin - Rex Emerson; Trombone - David Pierce; Trumpet - Evan Weiss; Piano, Harpsichord, Synth - Sean Kirkpatrick; Piano – John Congleton. I love you! Michael Gira
The title of Kasabian’s fifth album—which denotes its running time—may look like a larky piece of anti-branding but the band’s leader Sergio Pizzorno has said it signifies the fact it’s “a journey, not a collection of singles”. It’s a sentiment that holds with the sonic atmosphere of *48:13*: a record that, from its lowercase song titles to its ravey electronica (witness the irrepressible rap-influenced wobble of “eez-eh”), successfully remoulds the Leicester outfit’s arena-sized approach.
On her third album, Angel Olsen rides waves of emotional intensity that take her from the depths of despair to the heights of hope. *Burn Your Fire for No Witness* is a worthy successor to her 2012 breakthrough *Half Way Home*, revisiting many of the earlier album’s themes with greater focus and maturity. Tracks like “Forgiven/Forgotten,” “Lights Out,” and “Enemy” probe the subtle torments of love with an unflinching hand. Olsen’s phenomenal vocal range—shifting from murmurs to howls and yodels with impressive control—brings out the expansive vision of “Iota” and the confrontational power of “High & Wild.” The album\'s pervasive angst gives way to a desperate yearning for healing and peace in the convulsive “Stars” and the tender “Windows.” Olsen’s expressive guitar work is lent sympathetic support by bassist Stewart Bronaugh and drummer Joshua Jaeger, who help her leap from the distorted alt-country of “Hi-Five” to the Leonard Cohen–like folk balladry of “White Fire” and the French chanson feel of “Dance Slow Decades.” Finely crafted and fearlessly sung, *Burn Your Fire* smolders with dark brilliance.
On her newest LP, 'Burn Your Fire for No Witness', Angel Olsen sings with full-throated exultation, admonition, and bold, expressive melody. With the help of producer John Congleton, her music now crackles with a churning, rumbling low end and a brighter energy. Angel Olsen began singing as a young girl in St. Louis. Her self-released debut EP, 'Strange Cacti', belied both that early period of discovery and her Midwestern roots. Olsen then went further on 'Half Way Home', her first full-length album (released on Bathetic Records), which mined essential themes while showcasing a more developed voice. Olsen dared to be more personal. After extensive touring, Olsen eventually settled for a time in Chicago’s Logan Square neighborhood, where she created "a collection of songs grown in a year of heartbreak, travel, and transformation," that would become 'Burn Your Fire For No Witness'. Many of them remain essentially unchanged from their bare beginnings. In leaving them so intact, a more self-assured Olsen allows us to be in the room with her at the very genesis of these songs. Our reward for entering this room is many a head-turning moment and the powerful, unsettling recognition of ourselves in the weave of her songs.
Over the course of two astonishing albums, Perfume Genius, aka Seattle native Mike Hadreas, cemented his place as a singer-songwriter of rare frankness, creating songs that, while achingly emotional, offered empathy and hope, rather than any judgment or handwringing. Sparse, gorgeous and with Hadreas’ quavering vocals often only accompanied by piano, they were uncommonly beautiful tales of a life lived on the dark side – scarred, brutalised, yet ultimately, slowly but surely reclaimed. Too Bright, however, is something else altogether. Less self-conscious, and less concerned with storytelling and easily-digested melodies, it is a brave, bold, unpredictably quixotic exploration of what Hadreas calls “an underlying rage that has slowly been growing since ten and has just begun to bubble up”. Recorded with Adrian Utley of Portishead and featuring John Parish on several tracks, it is a stunning about-face which brings to mind audacious career-shift albums like Kate Bush’s The Dreaming or Scott Walker’s Tilt, records which walk the tightrope between pure songwriting and overt experimentation.
The jungle is a wilderness, but London groove collective Jungle, led by Tom McFarland and Josh Lloyd-Watson, are masters of control. Everything is in its right place on their debut album, from the dance moves to the horn stabs, as they update \'60s soul (plus two-tone and trip-hop) with a crisp, modern touch. Aching falsetto tops off a spine-tingling mix of driving electric bass and swirling organs, while sirens and dub echoes make the noir nightscapes all the more vivid—seductive, but a little bit dangerous, too.
Alvvays are two women, three men, a crate of cassettes and a love of jingle-jangle. Molly Rankin and Kerri MacLellan grew up as next-door neighbours in Cape Breton, lifting fiddles and folk-songs. Heartbreaks of different shades soon entered their lives, as did the music of Teenage Fanclub and Belle & Sebastian. Similar noisy melancholy drifted over to Prince Edward Island, finding Alec O'Hanley, Brian Murphy and Philip MacIsaac. Convening in Toronto, the group have been making music since dusk or maybe dawn, when stars were appearing or fading off. As a result, their debut self-titled album is both sun-splashed and twilit -- nine songs concealing drunkenness, defeat and death in tungsten-tinted pop that glitters like sea glass. With needlepoint melody and verse, Rankin and O'Hanley's songs were recorded at Chad VanGaalen's Yoko Eno studio and mixed by Graham Walsh (Holy Fuck) and John Agnello (Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr., Kurt Vile). The resultant album is loud and clear and sure. Flood your ears.
Having won the heavy hearts and minds of indie rock\'s cognoscenti with their 2009 debut, *The Fool*, the L.A. quartet Warpaint set their sites higher on this self-titled follow-up. Here, they enlist veteran producer Flood (U2, PJ Harvey) to help them beef up their sensual and spooky postpunk. The band decamped to Joshua Tree to write the album, and the eerie desolation of the California desert haunts the tracks accordingly. The serpentine \"Keep It Healthy\" features fidgety guitar riffs atop the group\'s lockstep rhythm section of bassist Jenny Lee Lindberg and drummer Stella Mozgawa, while \"Teese\" layers Emily Kokal\'s hushed vocals over a creeping beat and atmospheric synths. The single \"Love Is to Die\" is a gauzy midtempo song with a persistent beat, over which Kokal incants a subtly catchy hook: \"Love is to die/Love is to not die/Love is to dance.\"
Even though many of the songs on *Are We There* muse on the pain of difficult relationships (plainly evident in the titles of tunes like “Your Love Is Killing Me” and “I Love You But I’m Lost”), Brooklyn-based singer/songwriter Sharon Van Etten sounds strikingly confident on the follow-up to her stellar 2012 album, *Tramp*. Whether she’s leading a dusky, after-hours synth-rock dirge (“Break Me”) or mournful piano ballad (the sublime “I Know”), Van Etten is brilliantly self-possessed. Alternating between a chilling whisper and throaty wail, the songwriter\'s forceful yearning—for sleep, for patience, for a romantic silver lining—unifies much of *Are We There*. But in such capable hands, suffering has rarely sounded so good.
Sharon Van Etten writes from a place of free-flowing honesty and vulnerability to create a bond with the listener that few contemporary musicians can match. 'Are We There' is a self-produced album of exceptional intimacy, sublime generosity, and immense breadth.
*Present Tense*—the fourth album by the Cumbrian, U.K., quartet Wild Beasts—took nearly a year away from touring to rightfully conceive. Written in London and recorded at Konk Studios in London and The Distillery in Bath, with coproducers Lexx (Arcade Fire, Madonna) and Brian Eno protegé Leo Abrahams, the album achieves a level of consistency and emotional richness that was often harder to unscramble in Wild Beasts\' angst-ridden early works. But Hayden Thorpe looks to learn more about himself with each album, taking his fans with him. The opener and debut single, “Wanderlust,” features plenty of daring sounds and a confrontational stance: “Don’t confuse me with someone who gives a \*\*\*\*.” But songs like “Pregnant Pause,” “Mecca,” and “Daughters” tread closer to a Scott Walker/Talk Talk vibe, where much goes on under the surface. Second vocalist Tom Fleming provides a steadying counterpoint. The easy accessibility of “A Simple Beautiful Truth” is something that their earlier selves never would have allowed but clearly should have, since every story has a moment of reflection—and you catch more fans with honey.
Parquet Courts’ highly flammable third album clinches their place as one of the best—and smartest—rock bands of the post-grunge era. They\'re capable of mixing psychedelic looseness with the muscle of hardcore (“Sunbathing Animal”), odd post-punk experiments (“Vienna II”) with rambling, romantic ballads (“Instant Disassembly”), blues with Black Flag (“Ducking & Dodging”), and poetic visions with moments of hilarious plain-spokenness (“Whoever she might be going to bed with/You can read about that in her Moleskine,” goes a line on “Dear Ramona”). Students of history without being beholden to it, the band manages to synthesize about 70 years of guitar music into a strange, lopsided groove all their own.
The year and change since the release of Parquet Courts monumental Light Up Gold is reflected in ways expected and not with Sunbathing Animal, its sharper, harder follow up. Light Up Gold caught the ears of everyone paying even a little bit of attention, garnering glowing reviews across the board for its weird colors and raw energy, saturated punk songs that offered crystal clear lyrical snapshots of city life. It was immediately memorable, a vivid portrait of ragged days, listlessness, aimlessness and urgency, broadcast with the intimacy of hearing a stranger's thoughts as you passed them on the street. As it goes with these things, the band went on tour for a short eternity, spending most of 2013 on the road, their sound growing more direct in the process and their observations expanding beyond life at home. Constant touring was broken up by three recording sessions that would make up the new album, and the time spent in transit comes through in repeated lyrical themes of displacement, doubt and situational captivity. To be sure, Sunbathing Animal isn't a record about hopelessness, as any sort of incarceration implies an understanding of freedom and peace of mind. Fleeting moments of bliss are also captured in its grooves, and extended at length as if to preserve them. Pointed articulations of these ideas are heard as schizoid blues rants, shrill guitar leads, purposefully lengthy repetition and controlled explosions, reaching their peak on the blistering title track. A propulsive projection of how people might play the blues 300 years from now, "Sunbathing Animal" is a roller coaster you can't get off, moving far too fast and looping into eternity. Much as Light Up Gold and the subsequent EP Tally All The Things That You Broke offered a uniquely tattered perspective on everyday city life, Sunbathing Animal applies the same layered thoughts and sprawling noise to more cerebral, inward- looking themes. While heightened in its heaviness and mania, the album also represents a huge leap forward in terms of songwriting and vision. Still rooted firmly in the unshackled exploration and bombastic playing of their earlier work,everything here is amplified in its lucidity and intent. The songs wander through threads of blurry brilliance, exhaustion and fury at the hilt of every note. Parquet Courts remain, Austin Brown, A. Savage, Sean Yeaton, and M. Savage.
These unusually masked and creepy Swedish psychedelia dealers play a mix of tribal rhythms, guitar riffs dominated by wah-wah pedals, and raw, garage-rock styled productions, over which a number of vocalists sing, chant, and yell from various positions. “Goatchild” perfectly distills the group\'s essence, while tracks like “Talk to God,” “To Travel the Path Unknown,” and “Gathering of Ancient Tribes” explore the numerous paths to high weirdness. There’s a looseness in these jams that sounds all-inclusive, as if the songs were just waiting for you to pick up an instrument and play along. *Commune* clearly succeeds in creating an alternate universe where everyone can party.
The second solo album from Thom Yorke shares with its predecessor an exclusive reliance on keyboards and electronics to accompany the Radiohead frontman\'s haunting vocals. But *Tomorrow\'s Modern Boxes* is sparser and less groove-driven than *The Eraser*. While a couple of tunes are fueled by modified house beats, pieces like the beatless, ethereal instrumental \"Pink Section\" and the delicately floating \"Interference\" allow Yorke to achieve the kind of sonic simplicity that becomes difficult when you\'ve got a whole band\'s ideas to contend with.
*This Is All Yours* is replete with a mesmeric, album-opening “Intro” of revolving vocal snippets and the disarming, pre-halftime instrumental interlude “Garden of England.” It includes the mischievous guitar groove of “Left Hand Free,” the spectral, Bon Iver-like beauty of “Warm Foothills” and the Miley Cyrus-sampling hypnotics of “Hunger of the Pine.”
The story of London’s Bombay Bicycle Club is one of constant evolution: since their 2009 debut, the band have woven together elements of everything from wistful indie folk to crystalline math rock. The outfit’s fourth album is a warm, rewarding coalition of these pursuits, offering emotional, synth-driven rock complemented by richly textured samples, big synths, and the dizzying melodies of frontman Jack Steadman. A sampled Bollywood loop introduces the opener, “Overdone,” while the sweeping, R&B-inspired groove of “Home by Now” is anchored by cello and splices of digitally manipulated piano. The hypnotic percussion and eight-bit groove of “Feel” result in the album’s finest track, while “Whenever, Wherever” opens as a pensive ballad before adopting a driving dance beat. A fuzzy kalimba sample and polyrhythmic drumbeat close *So Long, See You Tomorrow*, finishing an entrancing ride.
At first glance, the pairing of producer Madlib and rapper Freddie Gibbs seems unlikely. The former is the ultimate crate-digger, known as much for his reclusive tendencies as his endless collection of obscure soul, jazz, rock, and other musical ephemera; the latter is a street-hardened former dealer who rhymes about the perils of the dope game. But they say opposites attract, and in this case their two aesthetics complement one another. Gibbs is a nimble, gifted rapper, his syllables quick-stepping around Madlib\'s many twists and turns, from the grainy \'70s soul-funk of \"Scarface\" to the half-time disco of \"Harold\'s\" to the hazy West Coast G-funk of \"Thuggin.\" The duo\'s credentials are strong enough to pull some of hip-hop\'s finest into their orbit: oddball Danny Brown contributes a verse to the squirming \"High,\" while the crews from The Wu-Tang Clan, Top Dog Entertainment, and Odd Future are all represented (via cameos from Raekwon, Ab Soul, and Earl Sweatshirt, respectively). As a final shot of gravitas, Scarface drops a verse on \"Broken.\" It\'s a deserved blessing from one of hip-hop\'s finest MCs to one of its most unlikely but successful pairings.
With a name and sound that would’ve guaranteed them underground/alternative status in the \'80s, the Syracuse, N.Y.–based Perfect Pussy now find their lo-fi hardcore punk attack embraced by none other than NPR, whose new generation surely grew up with the likes of Dead Kennedys, Minor Threat, and eventually Sleater-Kinney pounding their eardrums. A song like “Interference Fits” offers an abrasive outer shell with a sweet melodic center that’s been the secret appeal for thousands of bands who’ve fought the good fight in determining the proper balance between the two extremes. Singer Meredith Graves nails the percentages, and everything about this debut album screams excitement. The production gives everything they touch an urgency that goes direct for the solar plexus—and this is considered a sonic upgrade from the combustion of their earlier demo. Graves sings about her issues with a passion that establishes her frontwoman credentials beyond any doubt. There’s even a lo-amplifier hum and tape hiss that draws out “Advance Upon the Real” for minutes after the song’s completion, yet it doesn’t feel self-indulgent. And the live version is even more chaotic.
The ‘60s garage rock revival has been going strong since the days of the early-‘80s underground scene that featured bands like The Chesterfield Kings, The Vipers, The Gravedigger V, The Pandoras, and hundreds of other groups. In 2014, garage rock focuses less on recreating the old sounds and styles than exploring the freakiest sounds on modern guitar pedals and on the outboard gear in modest studios. These Chicago kids are versed in The Rolling Stones and The Beach Boys along with modern influences like Ty Segall and The Black Lips. For Twin Peaks’ second album, *Wild Onion*, they moved out of their singer’s basement studio (where their debut was recorded) and tried out a real facility. The upgrade in sound quality hurts them none. The debut single, “Flavor,” nails down their energy and enthusiasm in two minutes, but it’s just a taste of what the quartet can do. “Strawberry Smoothie,” “Mirror of Time,” “Telephone,” and “Hold On” further explore their talents and abilities to twist their influences in greater depth.
Kettering, England’s Temples bring the psychedelic ‘60s to life. Just as the members of XTC once worked as The Dukes of Stratosphear to re-create a psychedelic glow of backward guitars, groovy organs, sitar-like 12-string guitars, thick rumbling basses, and oddly modulating harmonies all wrapped up in fuzztones, Temples now explore those sounds like “Jack Nitzsche on a DIY budget.” That\'s according to group leader and guitarist James Bagshaw, whose home served as the recording studio for *Sun Structures*. Praise from The Smiths’ Johnny Marr and The Soft Machine’s Robert Wyatt indicate they’re on the right track, and lysergic pop songs like “The Golden Throne” and “Mesmerise” illustrate how well this quartet can explore the outer reaches of their minds. Elements of *Nuggets* and *Pebbles* collections and countless late-\'60s lesser-knowns come to life with a dense, modern production that lets Bagshaw and Co. layer the sound with great intricacy. Whether it’s the jam (“Test of Time”) or the milder side of the ride (“Move with the Season”), welcome back to the future again.
“I wrote a song for thee,” frontman James Edward Bagshaw offers on this U.K. band’s debut. As his archaic address implies, Temples play mid-Sixties psych rock at its most archly transporting. Every swirling fuzz tone, cathedral-organ bleat and Harrisonian Rickenbacker run is perfectly placed. There are also shambling echoes of Britain’s Nineties “baggydelic” scene- Jon Doland of Rollingstone
Recorded at Electric Lady Studios and Atomic Sound in New York City, the ten tracks on ‘El Pintor,’ - taut and epic in equal measure - find the band completely reinvigorated after a three year break from touring. All songs on ‘El Pintor’ were written and produced by Interpol, with Daniel Kessler playing guitar, Samuel Fogarino on drums, and Paul Banks on vocals, guitars, and taking over bass duties for the first time. The album also features Brandon Curtis (The Secret Machines) playing keyboard on nine songs, Roger Joseph Manning, Jr. (Beck) playing keyboard on “Tidal Wave,” and Rob Moose (Bon Iver) playing violin and viola on "Twice as Hard.” ‘El Pintor’ was mixed by Alan Moulder, and mastered by Greg Calbi.
