The first and only band to be announced thus far for Sasquatch! music festival is a big one: indie giants Pavement will headline the thing (no details are out yet as to which night). The remainder of the lineup doesn’t come out until February of 2010, so there’s still a while to wait for the whole picture, but for many, this news will be reason enough to buy tickets.
November 9, 2009
Pavement to headline Sasquatch! 2010
Posted by ptchan under live, news | Tags: pavement, sasquatch! |Leave a Comment
November 9, 2009
!!!, Maserati, Turing Machine, and Juan MacLean drummer Fuchs dead at 34
Posted by ptchan under et cetera, news | Tags: !!!, jerry fuchs, juan maclean, maserati, turing machine |Leave a Comment
In a loss that will be felt across multiple genres, drummer Jerry Fuchs died Saturday night. Mr Fuchs fell down an elevator shaft when his elevator became stuck between two floors. He was 34.
October 12, 2009
Record Review: The Temper Trap – Conditions
Posted by ptchan under review | Tags: the temper trap |1 Comment
You could make a pretty strong case for the statement that The Temper Trap might have been better off if they had remained decidedly off the map. Like, they could have released this album, Conditions, and it would have been embraced by their fans and maybe even by a few other people. Sure, they’d probably get all starry-eyed when they thought about the prospect of worldwide fame, but still; they would have been undeniably successful, albeit on a smaller scale.
Of course, that’s just fantastic speculation, especially since now, they’re that band from 500 Days of Summer. They’re pretty much famous, having ridden “Sweet Disposition” to global recognition. Now, more than a few loyal fans will likely be clamoring to see if they can deliver the cathartic punch of that (awesome) single for the length of a whole record. Unlike, say, Vampire Weekend, whose debut record caught the world relatively by surprise made everyone go absolutely bananas, The Temper Trap had expectations well and mounted before they ever released a full-length record. Most bands are expected to follow a strong debut, The Temper Trap don’t get any room for growing pains.
So the million-dollar question, predictably, is “Does the record deliver?” The answer, which is probably equally predictable, is of course it doesn’t. “Sweet Disposition,” like everyone expected, is by far the best song on this record. Not one single other cut on the record even approaches the raw, tender, honest beauty of that song. The single, pure and simple, outclasses the album. “Fader” probably comes the closest in terms of quality, if only because it sounds less forced than anything else on the record.
Some might point out that the album couldn’t ever have delivered if we were just expecting variations on the “Sweet Disposition” theme. That would be a valid argument, if the rest of the album weren’t so mediocre. Generally, the band’s sound is pleasing: silvery guitars blend sumptuously with Dougy Mandagi’s vibrant tenor (the dude’s almost sounds like a castrato sometimes), with a usually airtight rhythm section that features refreshingly motile basslines. It’s songwriting with which the band struggles the most mightily. Structurally, the songs are weak – they hover around the same ideas for too long, explore blank landscapes too fully, flesh out uninteresting details with too much diligence. “Soldier On” soldiers on for six interminable minutes, taking way too much time to arrive at a climax, which, after four minutes of waiting, doesn’t really make it seem worth it to have listened to the rest of the song.
The ultra-repetitive opener, “Love Lost,” employs sudden dynamic shifts that center around bursts of glassy guitars, but ultimately, even these shifts repeat themselves and become part of a structural routine. So the whole package becomes pretty monotonous. It would have been a better move for the group to allow the instruments to free-associate around a single vocal motif, rather than creating a sequence and sticking to it.
Maybe I’m being a little too tough on The Temper Trap, a band that got shoved out into the spotlight by scoring a berth in the one indie film that everyone saw this year to satisfy their quota. I’ll agree with you – it’s probably not fair to have these expectations of so young a group, probably not fair to judge them by such rigorous standards. But I write this knowing that everyone else who listens to Conditions will be expecting the same thing I was, and will probably be similarly disappointed.
5.3 / 10.0
October 1, 2009
Record Review: Rain Machine – Rain Machine
Posted by ptchan under review | Tags: kyp malone, rain machine, tv on the radio |Leave a Comment
Not much surprises me these days. We live in a time in which people are willing to give an hour of their day to watch the Kardashian sisters be useless. A time in which the man who killed John Lennon gets more conjugal visits in prison than I do in the real world. A time when nice guys never get the girl, and good girls always seem to go bad. In a world like that, what could conceivably be surprising? Well, I’ve been surprised by Rain Machine. If you had told me a month ago that this record would not just be bad – but boring – I would have told you to get out of town or get on some medication. But I’m sitting here, even as I write this, surprised. Rain Machine’s eponymous debut is not just bad, but it’s probably the most uncompromisingly boring record I’ve heard all year.
For the purposes of context, let me start at the beginning. When I heard TV on the Radio was breaking up for at least a year, I was indescribably sad, but heartened by the fact that the band’s epically bearded vocalist and guitarist Kyp Malone would be putting out a solo record soon (under the Rain Machine moniker) to blunt the trauma of the news. So this record was supposed to be a palliative release, to assure us that we didn’t need to miss TV on the Radio too much, because we’d have all sorts of good stuff coming our way from them during their hiatus, or whatever it is.
Let’s be clear: at no point is this record ever good. Malone seems to be aiming for a more earthy iteration of TV on the Radio, but that idea doesn’t even sound good in theory, given how industrial and urban TV on the Radio is and always has been. Their sound is too unique and delicate to be carelessly tweaked and tribalized like Malone does on this record. “Give Blood” is, for all intents and purposes, a TV on the Radio b-side without any of the Dave Sitek style. It’s rougher around the edges, but the repetition is not as potent as it would be if Sitek were behind the boards. Instead of being immersed in a frenetic flood of fussing guitars and buzzing synthesizers, the “Give blood!” refrain is struck against hand-claps and whiny guitars. It sounds like the really inadequate cousin that TV on the Radio pretends not to be related to when they go out together.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, the rest of the record becomes a really bleak, monotonous moral/social/political rant, where Malone expostulates pretty stock leftist views without much sophistication or depth (the rest of the record makes “Give Blood” seem like “Hey Jude” by comparison). It’s really pretentious, but it’s not backed up by any interesting musical ideas, and that’s what makes it impossible to stomach. “Smiling Black Faces” is a too-repetitive, drably arranged stab at the police; apparently Malone thought the message was so vital that he didn’t really need to work that hard on the musical aspect of it – there’s nothing to smile about on this cut.
The most glaring problem here is that Malone has fallen into all of the production traps that Dave Sitek so deftly sidesteps. Malone’s record sounds messy and unfocused, while Sitek manages to effortlessly organize immense amounts of sound into a coherent, sharp whole. Without Sitek producing this record, the songs drown in themselves, even in spite of the fact that there isn’t as much going on. Despite the relative dearth of instrumental activity, there is no sense of control or clarity on this record, and as a result, it becomes impossible to retain any of the musical ideas. It’s bad. It’s really bad. In a nutshell, most of the record sounds more or less the same after “Give Blood”. It’s hugely self-aware, hugely pretentious, hugely self-righteous, hugely boring, hugely uncreative, and hugely disappointing.
Dig in; it looks like this TV on the Radio hiatus is going to be as painful as we feared.
3.2 / 10.0
October 1, 2009
Record Review: Sea Wolf – White Water, White Bloom
Posted by ptchan under review | Tags: sea wolf |Leave a Comment
Alex Brown Church is not a household name, but I think that’s due to change. Over the past few years, he’s been pretty prolific, but has still somehow managed to go either completely unnoticed or completely underappreciated by most consumers and critical outlets alike. For some, he’s not gritty enough; his music, they say, is too even in temperament, too restrained. And while it’s true that Sea Wolf’s music is not emotionally aggressive, his debut was marked by the impression that just beneath the calm surface of the music, there was a deep reservoir of emotion and doubt simmering.
It makes sense then that on his new album, White Water, White Bloom, Church is really not moving forward artistically, but deeper. This record is far richer, far denser, and far more complex than its predecessor. Listeners who are in search of a big musical step for Church will be disappointed. Those who hope for a more refined, nuanced effort than Leaves in the River will be deeply satisfied. That’s not to say that White Water, White Bloom is overproduced, or that every song is has a lot going on. The stunning “Orion and Dog” features only the sparest acoustic guitar with baroque strings, but still manages to generate richness and warmth to support Church’s melancholy narrative. Similarly, “The Orchard” is lush without sacrificing an ounce of intimacy.
That said, Church is definitely more mature as an artist here; this record showcasing a more developed dynamic awareness and production acumen than anything Sea Wolf has ever released. As if in answer to his critics, White Water, White Bloom finds Church much less bashful about turning up the gain. On “Dew in the Grass”, shuddering strings give way to a pounding chorus, featuring the ostinato snare hits that Church employs liberally over the course of the record. In the interludes, the strings return with splashy drums and driving piano, building in a crescendo before giving way to simmering verses. “O Maria!” is a stomping guitar vamp piece on which Church’s measured tenor sails plaintively over hard guitars and insistent, unrelenting drums. The title track, too, while not perhaps as overtly a rock song, is nonetheless expansive, at times featuring big dramatic drums and a piano playing lush octaves above slightly crunchy, buzzing electric guitar.
Sea Wolf has done a great thing on this record – he has stayed true to his genuine musical impulses, but has managed to diversify his expression of those impulses. The melodic structures are familiar and unmistakably the work of Alex Brown Church, but thrillingly, the expressive modalities and arrangements are fresher and more adventurous than before. Ultimately, it doesn’t really matter to me whether White Water, White Bloom is a step forward or a step downward for Alex Brown Church and his sound. What matters is that it’s a step in the right direction.
9.1 / 10.0
October 1, 2009
Nick Thorburn is on a mission. It’s not a new mission, and it’s not a secret mission. On the contrary, it’s a very public that has been occupying most of his time since he fronted the now-defunct Unicorns. The mission, which you may or may not have read about in interviews with Thorburn, is to write the perfect pop song. He’s been working steadily for more than a few years now, honing his songwriting and, perhaps more notably, his production instincts. Until now, Islands have produced two solid-but-not-fantastic albums in 2006’s Return to the Sea and the 2008 follow-up, Arm’s Way.
Frankly, based on the progress made between those two records, it seemed less and less likely that Thorburn would ever accomplish his mission, much like it’s starting to seem almost certain that Sufjan will not put out an album for every one of the fifty states. Pessimist that I am, I thought Vapours would be something of a death knell for islands. I don’t mean to say it would seal their fate as a bad band – I’ve never thought they are bad – but I did think it would be a cardinal sign that they would never be as great as they aspired to be.
I won’t say that Vapours finds Islands achieving greatness (or writing the perfect pop song), and I won’t say that it’s concrete evidence that they will. But it is an undeniable step closer, and I’ll be damned if they didn’t write one of the best indie pop albums I’ve heard in a while. Vapours is Islands’ most polished effort to date. Take all the sheen of a Death Cab for Cutie record, and switch out the melancholy for relentless charm. Electro-pop, funk, and straight pop collide to luscious effect, creating a more decadent, palatable record than Thorburn seemed to have been willing to put out up until this point. Opening track “Switched On” is easily one of the best songs of the year, with a positively stunning introduction that sounds like the Beach Boys of the future, and infectious verse and impossibly catchy chorus, all delivered in Thorburn’s friendly, spirited tenor.
Thorburn and company have evolved here, which is a bigger deal for Islands than most other pop bands. I always expected the band to remain stubbornly in their familiar aesthetic, waiting for the right songs to come along and fit stylistically. Instead, they made (minor) adjustments to their sound, such that it’s better suited to their songwriting style. It sounds like a pretty basic adjustment, but it’s been made with more aplomb here than I ever thought Islands were capable of. The lushness of this record is endlessly surprising – “Vapours” is laden thick with horns, “Heartbeat” has enough AutoTune to be the new T-Pain single (it’s awesome, by the way), and “Everything Is Under Control” is an anthemic arena-filler (of all things). The efforts the band has made to broaden their horizons make for a much more interesting, compelling, vital effort. This record is markedly less cute than anything Islands have ever done before, but it’s their best effort yet. Mission accomplished? Not yet. But after this record, it’s not out of the cards.
8.2 / 10.0
October 1, 2009
The 2000s have been kind of a weird decade for music. Lots of bands emerged, and the lists of influences are getting more and more pretentious and esoteric. Everyone’s jockeying for position in the race for the strangest, most unique sound. Bands both new and old have emerged placing more emphasis on sounding new than on sounding good. For all the great things about music today, and as heartened as I am for the potential that the next decade brings (especially compared to where we were heading into this decade), I can’t help but lament what seems to be a willful shift away from convention – change for change’s sake.
We’ve been here before. Last decade saw a decided shift away from pop music – it started with Cobain, and then the 90s declined into a horrendous experiment in wedding pop and grunge. By 1998, the only reason to even bother turning on the radio was that maybe Radiohead would be playing. Dave Matthews and his jam-band stormtroopers were threatening to take over the music world. It was a dark time.
But that old brand of pop music has a way of surviving. It is – and I think will be for a long time – the red, beating heart of modern music. The Strokes – remember them? – came along and brought us back to basics, reminding us why we loved pop music, and why it was still the best genre out there. And the people spoke: pop convention prevailed yet again over the forces of pointless change. Dave Matthews band has since, happily, been relegated to the iPods of thirty-somethings, troglodytic frat boys, and hippies, and the echoes of Elvis Costello, Buddy Holly, and others survived for another few years. But here, a decade later, we’re faced with a similar situation. Esotericism has risen to sharper prominence in recent years – making its way from the haughty smoke-filled rooms occupied by critics and into the mainstream – I heard “Summertime Clothes” at American Eagle a month ago, for God’s sake – deeply chilling. Anyway, I may be engaging in some alarmism here, but I have long believed – as any of you who read my work with any regularity know – that pop music is under siege again, and that we’re seeing a rejection of the pop traditions that have soundtracked our lives for so many decades.
Enter Girls. Their debut, Album, decidedly establishes them as part of the preservationist strain of modern musicians (i.e. one of the good guys, depending, I suppose, on your perspective), who don’t just understand the value artists like Elvis Costello, Buddy Holly, and Brian Wilson brought to the table, they incorporate their influence relentlessly, adoringly into their music – I mean, the first track is called “Lust for Life”, for heaven’s sake. That’s the usual threesome you’ll hear referenced in discussions about this band (especially Costello). I definitely agree with the first two, not as much with the last one – Girls’ arrangement patterns are nothing like those employed by the Beach Boys (way less emphasis on harmony, way more emphasis on attitude and melody). But either way, Girls’ debut is a firm homage to times gone by, and it’s proof that those old, steady influences still have vitality. Their brand of infectious, stubbornly conventional but edgy enough pop is a winning formula, and makes for a record that improves with every listen.
But obviously, the appeal of Album extends beyond the statement it makes – it’s an impressive musical achievement in its own right, boasting a shocking degree of musical variety coupled with incredible cohesion. “Laura” is a bubblegum pop gem that smacks of Costello and the early Beatles. “Big Mad Mean Motherfucker” incorporates a verse straight out of the 50s with a guitar solo that even Chuck Berry would probably moderately approve of. “Lauren Marie” is another standout, a shamelessly sentimental, imminently relatable ballad with a delicious melody and an enticing arrangement centering around ethereal, synthesizers, winsome period piece guitars, spare percussion, and even the occasional splash of harp.
The cohesion comes, probably, from lead singer Christopher Owens’ wonderfully versatile and very distinctive voice. Less grating than Alec Ounsworth but more reckless than Colin Meloy, Owens’ voice is definitely in that category of acquired tastes. He ranges from a hugely endearing, carefree, if slightly nasal wail on “Lust for Life” to a gorgeous, plaintive, Jens Lekman croon on the sprawling, cathartic centerpiece “Hellhole Ratrace”. This vocal versatility allows Girls to change up their sound around Owens vocals and still sound stylistically consistent.
I’ll submit that this record is definitely not for everyone. There’s definitely a case to be made that Girls are a little too cute and kitschy (that clause is pretty awesome if you take it out of context, by the way), that Owens’ vocals and lyrics are a little too affected. Some will indubitably be put off by this record’s self-satisfied pop sheen, by the effort that Girls seem to put into being uncomplicated. There’s something to be said for this criticism too – being “just a pop band” oughtn’t produce so self-aware a product as Album can sometimes be. And the record is not without its clunkers – “God Damned” offers a weak melody that falls hopelessly flat within an even less interesting instrumental framework. But quibbles aside, this album is still quite good – and yes, it’s a reminder the music world definitely needed heading into the next decade. Hopefully, we’ll listen.
8.3 / 10.0
September 25, 2009
Two things determine how we formulate opinions about records. The first, obviously, is the music, be it the technical nuts and bolts, the lyrics, the delivery, the arrangements, that atmosphere, the songwriting, or whatever else that we talk about in reviews. It’s what the bulk of reviews are written about. It’s what most people look for in a critic’s work. The second aspect of any record, though, is one that no artist can predict. It’s the listener. And not just the tastes of which that listener is explicitly aware; it’s the moment in that listener’s life at which a particular artist’s record enters that really, ultimately, determines how that listener will process it.
People like to think that there are certain immutable qualities to any record, but consider this: someone who listened to Bon Iver’s For Emma, Forever Ago right after getting dumped would probably connect with that record on a much deeper level (and as a result, like it more) than would someone who was happily in a relationship or happily single. The fresher the wounds from that breakup, the better the record would sound. Why is this? While the musical quality of a record matters, it can be completely eclipsed by the feeling that a record was written for you, to soundtrack a moment in your life. That’s a powerful, intoxicating feeling; and it’s one that not every album can induce.
I’ve listened to NLX’s Bitch Get Fit more than a few times now. I’ve been processing it on an objective level, sure: it’s essentially straight, focused, unpretentious pop music that focuses on Natasha Alexandra’s whispery, gossamer vocals (think Amy Winehouse meets Sarah MacLachlan, only without all the sucking that combination implies). Alexandra weaves delicately crafted melodies into Byron Kent Wong’s minimalist beats and unobtrusive synthesizers. Alexander is heavily reliant on harmonies to thicken her music, at times almost seeming unsure of how to employ more instruments. Bitch Get Fit probably would have benefitted from a little more instrumental variety, a little brass here and there, some swooning strings to deepen the drama. Instead, NLX found a formula – one that works, mind you – and stuck with it. And to her credit, the formula she’s chosen is simple, giving the songs room to breathe, even if it does tip Bitch Get Fit into the realm of electronic minimalism rather than straight ahead pop or whatever more than Alexandra might have intended.
What’s more, Bitch Get Fit is an unapologetically heart-on-sleeve affair. From the (admittedly kind of affected) delivery in the first lines of “Buckle Up,” Alexandra is talking about the usual suspects: pain, loss, ambivalence, confusion, and that infamous thin line between love and hate. It’s well-worn thematic material, but Alexandra throws her arms around it, singing like every line is a discovery. And so, in spite of the fact that you may have heard it all before, Alexandra doesn’t seem to know or care; her sincerity is undisputable.
But honestly, none of that really matters.
It could well be that this record just caught me at the right time, but in all my listens, there was something intangible hanging in every song, written under every lyric. Whether by NLX’s design or by accident, I felt like this record was mine. I felt as though the songs were tailored to me, as though they had been written with me in mind. And because of that, the flaws and strengths of the record largely ceased to matter (or at least they mattered way less): I just sat and listened. And when the record finished, I started right back at the beginning. So NLX has created a record here that, in spite of whatever flaws it may have, has a very personal appeal to me, the listener – forget about me the critic for a second. Bitch Get Fit wasn’t crafted with critics in mind; it’s a listener’s record. But make no mistake: for a record to so clearly speak to even one person, to communicate so clearly through music to anyone is a praiseworthy accomplishment from a critical standpoint as well; it speaks to the quality of her craft that NLX so compellingly communicates her message, and does so in such a way that listeners can relate to her.
Different records will hit different people at different times in different ways; there are no records that will hit everyone. But when a record hits you, you’ll feel it. I don’t expect Bitch Get Fit to hit you the way it hit me (it might, but I don’t expect it). I don’t believe that my experience of this record will be yours. But the important thing is that it could hit you. And not every album released has the potential to reach anyone on a really profound level; not a lot of albums convincingly invite the listener to connect with the artist in a meaningful way; Bitch Get Fit does. It opens its door and invites you in to hear stories that they you make your own. In my mind, that makes it worth a listen or two. If you’re up to the task, buckle up.
8.2 / 10.0
September 16, 2009
Brooklyn Vegan reported it, and this time, it’s not a lie.
You’re probably saying: “All caps? Fucking idiot. Pavement wasn’t that good.” Well, the main reason you should shut up (besides the fact that you’re a complete philistine) is that the indie rock that you so zealously covey probably wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for this ultimately influential group. So get excited. The band is getting together for one show, a benefit, next year (21 September 2010, to be precise) in Central Park (lucky New York).
September 15, 2009
Vampire Weekend announce sophomore effort
Posted by ptchan under news | Tags: vampire weekend |Leave a Comment
Yes, yes, I know “u completely luvvv Vampire Weekend OMG!!!1!” Anyway, this is a piece of news that will inspire shit-releasing excitement in hipsters and sorority girls alike, not to mention a lot of people in between. The most difficult band in the world to consistently love is recording a follow-up to their inexplicably successful, intermittently charming debut. It’s called Contra, and it’s going to drop 12 January via XL. Here’s a tracklist:
1. Horchata
2. White Sky
3. Holiday
4. California English
5. Taxi Cab
6. Run
7. Cousins
8. Giving Up the Gun
9. Diplomat’s Son
10. I Think Ur a Contra
