ALBUM REVIEW: Porcelain Raft “Half Awake EP”

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Mauro Remiddi has had quite a life. The Italian born singer/songwriter once joined a Berlin circus at age 21, playing percussion, accordion, and violin to accompany the acts. He’s visited North Korea as an Italian musical ambassador and shaken hands with Kim Jong-un. Recently, a new adventure brought him to Brooklyn, where he recorded the EP Half Awake under the name Porcelain Raft. Not content to settle down for long, he soon moved to Los Angeles to mix the tracks and start his own label, Volcanic Field.

Remiddi has the weary voice of an artist who’s seen a lot, but managed to hold onto some hope and gentleness. The songs on Half Awake, true to the release’s name, are mellow and dreamy with an infusion of energy just below the surface. On the opening track “Leave Yourself Alone,” that energy comes from fuzzy synths under sparse guitars. On “All In My Head,” a less subtle dance beat works perfectly under an organ intro and Remiddi’s smooth vocals. He proves his versatility by ending the EP with the folkier track “Something Is After Me,” a song are heavy on piano and soulfulness. 

All of these elements are put into play on the title track. It starts with Remiddi humming a soulful intro, then a bass beat kicks in under his singing: “Should I come over? It seems that I’m half awake.” More drums and the plucking of a guitar are added as he makes up his mind: “I’m coming over/ I need to see you again.”

Half Awake is available now via Volcanic Field, and Porcelain Raft will be playing an album release show on Friday, June 26 at Baby’s All Right! Check out “Half Awake” below.

 

 

ALBUM REVIEW: The Tallest Man On Earth “Dark Bird Comes Home”

Darkbird

Though his exact height is unconfirmed, we do know a few things about The Tallest Man On Earth: His name is Kristian Matsson. He’s a singer/songwriter from Dalarna, Sweden- though it’s hard to tell from his folky sound, and influences that include American artists like Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan. He’s put out four albums, and his latest is Dark Bird Comes Home, released May 12th via Dead Oceans.

On this record, Matsson expands his sound with more instruments- keys, drums, the occasional harmonica. The new lineup doesn’t clutter his songs, but enhances them. Where his earlier relied mostly on his guitar work and rambling singing style, the band behind him now allows Matsson to leave space between his words. This makes his vocals more focused, particularly on songs like “Timothy,” and “Darkness of the Dream.” Though it’s still as quietly stunning as his earlier work, it’s now more accessible for those who need more than a voice and guitar to hold their attention.

Key tracks are the jaunty “Slow Dance,” “Darkness of the Dream” (“The letting go is here and now/ The beauty’s in your arms, no mind is out to wander/ Just let yourself out of your sight, careless/ And some love will be there”), and the bittersweet “Dark Bird Is Home.” Check out the track below!

ALBUM REVIEW: Hop Along “Painted Shut”

painted shut

It’s easy to imagine Frances Quinlan, the vocalist of Philadelphia’s Hop Along, as the frontwoman of a stage-destroying punk band. She seems to put every bit of energy she has into her singing until she’s hoarse and out of breath, twisting her voice from a whisper to a howl. The band behind her, though, provides some relief from her intensity. The rhythm section, made up of  Tyler Long on bass and her brother Mark on drums, remains unshakably steady under Joe Reinhart’s wiry guitar.

Painted Shut is Hop Along’s second album, and the first they’ve released through Saddle Creek Records. John Agnello, known for his work with Dinosaur Jr. and Sonic Youth, co-produced and mixed the album, and according to the band, it was “finished in the shortest span of time the band has ever made anything.”

Key tracks on Painted Shut are “Powerful Man” and “Buddy In The Parade.” The first tells the story of what Frances calls her greatest regret: not being able to help a child she suspected was being abused. The second is inspired by the jazz musician Buddy Bolden, who suffered from schizophrenia. “Horseshoe Crabs” deals with another troubled artist, the folk musician Jackson C. Frank, and contains my favorite line on the album: when Frances describes waking up to a sunrise as “staring at the ass-crack of dawn.” 

The band is currently on tour, and they’ll be playing at Baby’s All Right on Sunday. If you can’t make it (it is Mother’s Day, after all) you can at least check out the shadowy, illustrated music video for “Powerful Man” below!

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ALBUM REVIEW: Torres “Sprinter”

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A few days before her album began streaming on NPR, Mackenzie Scott tweeted a complaint about an overused, somewhat vague genre of music: “Can anybody define “indie”? What does “indie” mean to you? Would love to see it eradicated from the vernacular/it’s gross like ‘hipster.'”

Though she’s just 24, the singer who records and performs as Torres creates music that defies her age and easy categorization (“indie” definitely doesn’t do it justice). The Georgia native has a voice that effortlessly projects raw emotion, whether subdued on sparser tracks or unleashed alongside guitar contributed by Portishead’s Adrian Utley.

The contrast between her songs —and even within them— makes each aspect of her sound all the more impressive, and Scott wastes no time showing it off.  She begins the first track, “Strange Hellos,” with a barely audible whisper, before breaking into a full-fledged, tortured ballad: “I was all for being real/ But if I don’t believe, then no one will,” she repeats, with more and more angst. It’s a hell of a way to start an album filled with frustration, longing, relationships, and sense of self.

It’s also an album that struggles with faith. Like others in the throes of adulthood, she’s shrugging off religion, or at least questioning an upbringing that revolves around it. As she said in a recent interview“Rock and roll ended my religion… rock and roll is my new religion!” But, maybe not indie?

You can check out the video for “Sprinter” below, and stream the album here.

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ALBUM REVIEW: Speedy Ortiz “Foil Deer”

speedy

“The Graduates” is one of the best songs on the new Speedy Ortiz album, Foil Deer. In the music video, the band takes some strange pills that make them hallucinate a kind of cute, mostly creepy giant rabbit. When their trip ends, they dose some innocent bystanders at a restaurant. It’s a perfect example of their music: charming, funny, and warped. But, I have a serious issue with a lyric Sadie Dupuis sings during the chorus: “I was the best at being second place/ But now I’m just the runner-up.”

This just isn’t true.

On their latest release, Dupuis once again shows off her style of twisted, creeping guitar lines. They perfectly compliment her vocals, deadpan with a hint of twang. The four-piece from Boston got some rave reviews from their SXSW performances, one which featured comedian Hannibal Buress sitting in on drums. Stephen Malkmus has been spotted wearing the band’s t-shirt, and they currently have tour dates which reach into October, including a sold-out show at The Bowery Ballroom on Saturday.

And, of course, their sound is great. It’s a unique departure from chord-driven rock, with unexpected melodies that range from light and fun (“Swell Content”) to heavy (“Homonovus” and “Ginger”) to downright sinister (“Puffer”).

Speedy Ortiz is a serious musical contender. So when Sadie Dupuis sings she’s just a runner-up, I can’t take her too seriously. But when she proclaims in “Raising The Skate” that “I’m not bossy, I’m the boss,” that I definitely believe.

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ALBUM REVIEW: Aradia “Citizen of Earth”

Aradia

Aradia
embodies a style similar to 90’s electronic freestyle without being dreadfully cheesy. Perhaps it’s because she is a multi-instrumentalist, a unique song-writer, and a woman of many sounds. She may be originally from New York City, but she is now based out of Seattle, where she released Citizen of Earth. Her new album is completely harmonious, electronic-driven, with dashes of striking guitar to create a capsule of mystical art.
While the 11-track album may sound playful, inspired with electro-beats and percussion, her lyrics deliver meaningful positivity. “To trust your instincts they’re always right. And now you know that you walk in the light. Don’t hold your breath ‘cuz another day is coming. It’s different now, you don’t have to keep running.” The Light” was charged by Aradia—showing her fans that her new-wave electronic music isn’t only about dancing, but dancing in luminosity. She seems very in-tune with her natural surroundings, frequently citing examples from fire, starlight, and the how she is one with the sky and sea. “Isolation is a tragedy. The idea that we’re separate is just illusory,” she also remains poetic in “Trouble.” And being that she is in search of another “M-Class” planet, is she also revealing her dark side—a loss of hope?
Her complexity in the album can also be reflected by her unreal style, where she is known for out of this world (literally) fashion designs and style. When she’s not busy writing new songs or putting together a space-travel-star-princess costume, you can catch her performing in an upcoming West coast tour. In the meantime, check out one of my favorite tracks off Citizen of Earth below, “Trouble.”

ALBUM REVIEW: Girls and Gods “You Are Copper Greening in Open Air”

Girls and God _You are copper greening in open air._

Protecting us like a fluffy new jacket from the harsh cold as we walk to and fro happenings, a pair of headphones playing a proper album will do a lot more than ear muffs. Girls and God is Dave Scanlon of Leverage Models live band joined by Alena Spanger from Tiny Hazard, Angelo Spagnolo of Parlour Tricks, and Rob Lundberg from killer BOB. They just got together and created a lovely new album, You Are Copper Greening in Open Air. The result of their labors is a soft yet warms-your-soul-like-whiskey coherent album that stays true to taste and form open to close.

As you stay, loosely committed.. ” Dave and friends observe, on the aptly titled “Loosely Committed.” The album is tailored with comfortably fitting reflections on snapshots of minute details of life and reserved relationship revelations.

Rhythmic yearnings and inner dialogue entrances on “New Bodies.” “Don’t tell her, don’t tell her…” the lyrics warn, leading into the powerful muse described in “Woman with her Hair Down to her Down to her Waist.” Girls and Gods indeed, the female form and all its mystery’s influence on the album is obvious, but gracefully so. The musings and stories sung are enough to make you fall in love.

You Are Copper Greening in Open Air comes out February 27 (via soundcloud, youtube, bandcamp, etc).

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ALBUM REVIEW: Ghastly Menace “Songs of Ghastly Menace”

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When I looked at their band name, I expected Ghastly Menace to be some kind of punk group, or possible a metal or grunge outfit. But you can’t always judge a band by its name, and I didn’t hear anything ghastly or menacing. Instead, what came through my speakers was a debut album from a lo-fi pop band, reminiscent of Grizzly Bear or The Pains of Being Pure at Heart.

Ghastly Menace is now a six-piece band from Chicago. After members Andy Schroeder and Chris Geick released their 2010 EP Pitcairn, they added Kody Nixon, Michael Heringhaus, Pat Lawler, and Clint Weber for their first official album, Songs of Ghastly Menace, released through The Record Machine on January 27th.

For a band’s debut, it’s impressive. Ghastly Menace has figured out their own style, but even within it, they show range and depth. The album starts out strong with its first two singles, “80s” and “Closing,” full of catchy and layered with infectious drums, well-placed guitar hooks, keyboard melodies and bass that glides along beneath it all. The record changes pace with the next two tracks. “You let me do too many things without you/ Know I don’t know how to do them with you,” is sung in harmony on the quiet, “Living Together,” which builds up slowly but always returns to its original tone. In “While You’re Here,” the vocals are laid bare, with only light shakes of percussion and occasional background noise before the track builds up. The only song that sounds out of place on Songs of Ghastly Menace is the seventh track “She Won’t Stay Long,” a piano ballad that breaks the tone of the rest of the record.

Ghastly Menace is able to find a perfect balance with their first album- music that’s low-key without being lazy, vocals that are sleepy without putting you to sleep, and the ability to keep calm without being emotionless. There’s also some interesting sound effects scattering through the record. The band has said that they use “non-instrumental sounds and techniques” on the album, which left me unable to guess what some cool sounds were, but I’m pretty sure someone sacrificed a glass or two while recording “On Our Way.” Whatever sonic experiment Ghastly Menace is conducting, it’s a success.

You can download Songs of Ghastly Menace here, and check out “Closing” below!

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ALBUM REVIEW: Menace Beach “Ratworld”

RATWORLD

Ratworld, Menace Beach’s latest release since their 2014 EP, Lowtalker, is now available to stream on Hype Machine. Listen to it here.

A favorite of music blogs, Menance Beach was formed in 2012 by frontman Ryan Needham and singer/guitarist Liza Violet of Leeds, England. The duo shares a name with the 90’s Nintendo game featuring a skateboarding protagonist, and shares their project with a diverse lineup of musicians. They’ve played with artists such as Nestor Matthews of Sky Larkin, Matt Spalding of You Animals, and Robert Lee of Pulled Apart by Horses. Ratworld was produced by Matthew Johnson of Hookworms.

Ratworld is “a journey through a psyche tinged wonderland” that ping-pongs back and forth between the band’s influences, from Pavement to Deerhunter, My Bloody Valentine, Ty Segall and more. Their sound is a blend of upbeat indie and psychedelic pop driven by fuzzy guitars and Needham’s drawn out vocals, which have a hint of his accent. The twelve tracks transition into and compliment each other well, from the shiny, shimmering “Elastic” to the softer, floaty “Blue Eye” and the laid back single “Tennis Court.”

Key tracks are “Drop Outs,” which starts out with a darker tone before plunging back into Menace Beach’s upbeat feel. “Lowtalkin’” is a high-energy song with a surf rock vibe, featuring a piercing, mosquito-like whine of a guitar solo.

Ratworld is set for release through Memphis Industries on 1/27 in the United States, and 1/19 everywhere else.

ALBUM REVIEW: The Great Escape “The Great Escape”

The Great Escape, Los Angeles, 10.10.2013__DSC2833

the great escape

I have spent my last few years trying to dissect New York City. And while I was learning that a train schedule isn’t as accurate as it ought to be, I was engulfed in the music culture that the city is notoriously known for. The sheer amount of bands that come out of New York is incredible, so massive that there are hundreds of venues to house and nurture them. And out of all the underground venues and bands that have made up our unique music culture, it holds that familiar city feel. New York is grungy, rebellious, and an intelligent mind of its own.

I wouldn’t trade my home for anywhere else, but like so many quarter-century beings, I’ve had those East to West coast feelings. What is music like in a place where the sun shines more than Rockefeller’s Christmas tree, where shoes are optional, and surfing is more common than sledding? I imagine it’s exactly how The Great Escape feels like. Was their name intentional?

The trio, formed in LA, features incredibly talented artists. The self-produced band is made of Malte Hagemeister playing the guitar, Kristian Nord on drums, and Amie Miriello as their strong female songstress.

Amie has a colossal voice that makes unpolished vocals sound badass. She can go perfectly along with the album’s varied themed tracks. “The Secret Song” is definitely one of the more soothing tracks with a small country feel, her voice honeyed. Then she can take on a 1930’s swing club with “I Want It All.” “We play with fire ‘cuz we can take the heat,” she softly croons. Amie sounds sultry whether with a horn section or raucous for Malte’s wigging and Kristian’s goddamn feels for percussion. She harmoniously belts in “It’s Getting Better” against power-driven guitars and punchy drumming. And my favorite song on the album, “Put It On Ice” effects sound like an early Flea bass solo. The track that really made me feel the excitement of heading to California was “Let’s Go.” The beginning starts off with a calming ambience, the realization that you’re leaving- but then jump-starts into what could be my packing then driving through the countryside montage music.

Now, I’m not trying to start the cheesy ‘pack-your-bags-going-to-Cali’ gig, but their debut self-titled album literally makes me feel like it. Listening gave me the confidence in seeking those sun-showers you hear so much about in the West coast. Their style is ambitious, but genuinely so. Every song is a completely raw look into what rock was like before bands just wanted to sell records, and look too cool while doing it. While they remind me of similar styles to the likes of The Black Keys and Janis Joplin, they’ve created a new style I haven’t seen on the current music grid- combining the classic sounds with contemporary flair.

Not to be mistaken for Iggy Azalea’s “The Great Escape Tour,” the LA triad have many outlets to reach out. Maybe we can get them to come to New York. We could probably also see their eyes open, unlike all their press-released photos. More importantly, we could show them what we’re made of.

The album is a half century packed into a 33 minute digital download. You also can stream their complete album below.

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ALBUM REVIEW: Foxygen “…And Star Power”

Foxygen

When I was in college, I spent a lot of time dating musicians, which meant I spent a lot of time sitting in on band practice. By “dating,” I guess I mean puttering around somebody’s basement, falling asleep on an old, bottomed-out couch, my French homework in my lap. Or being invited over to “hang out,” which meant lying around and listening to my amarato’s admittedly very good sound system crank out some rare Morphine b-side or watching him play “Wave of Mutilation” on acoustic guitar. But all that is beside the point. The point is, there’s something about Foxygen’s new album, …And Star Power, that reminds me very much of sitting in on band practice. The songs meander at length, and often talk more to themselves than to their listeners. They navel-gaze. To get to the nuggets of exhilaration and catchy magic buried in this thing, you have to sit through a lot of repetition, strumming, and self-amazement.

It’s easy to see why …And Star Power is so ambitious, and sometimes seems like it incorporates every musical thought the band has had over the past year. On their 2012 studio debut Take The Kids Off Broadway, the California-based outfit Foxygen–aka Jonathan Rado and Sam France, who between the pair of them make a sound so huge and anthemic it’s hard to believe they’re a duo–set a standard for overarching power rock full of catchy choruses and drunk-around-the-campfire feelgoodery. Then, the very next year, they put out the airtight and stellar We Are The 21st Century Ambassadors of Peace & Magic. It was sweet and raucous, and in its way, it was a huge album, too–concise as a well-packed suitcase, 21st Century Ambassadors seemed as if it could expand into two or three records worth of triumphs and lessons.

Measure for measure, the number of well-constructed melodies in …And Star Power probably equals that of 21st Century Ambassadors; however, the former is a double album, clocking in at about an hour and twenty minutes. With extra time comes extra filler, presented as spaciousness and a vaguely futuristic ambiance punctuated by such spoken interjections as “society, maaaan” thrown seemingly at random into the background of the tracks. One might imagine that Foxygen decided to make a double album before writing the requisite songs to fill one, but I think it’s more likely that …And Star Power‘s long-windedness is a result of a challenge it makes to itself to be even more multi-faceted than 21st Century Ambassadors, and simply incorporate every kind of music in the history of rock and roll. Thus the swirl of lo-fi strummed folk, the sludgy doom metal, the channel-changing static, thus the campy ’70’s space noises, thus the schizophrenic production. Like porch furniture being sucked into a tornado, classic Americana, noise rock, California psych, and more than a few nameless hybrids go flying towards the gaping maw of Foxygen’s musical vision.  Voila: …And Star Power.

..And Star Power came out October 14th on Jagjaguwar. Pick up your copy here, and check out the psychedelic lullaby “Cosmic Vibrations,” from …And Star Power, below:

 

ALBUM REVIEW: Kevin Morby “Still Life”

Kevin-Morby

Kevin Morby is nothing if not prolific. He left Woods indefinitely last year — with whom he released a new album every year until his departure — and put The Babies (his band with Cassie Ramone) on hold. Now. he’s focusing on his solo work, and his sophomore record, Still Life, is perhaps one of his most contemplative pieces.

Released October 14th on Woodsist, Still Life opens with the track “The Jester, The Tramp, & The Acrobat.” It is a reeling, Lou-Reed-meets-Leonard-Cohen story, using broad strokes to provide just enough color to each character, but never a direct plot line. It’s an approach continued throughout Still Life, which provides listeners with feelings and reactions – not stories.

This might perhaps be the reason this LP is so thoughtful. The album is named after an art piece by Maynard Monrow entitled “Still Life with the Rejects from the Land of Misfit Toys,” but even truncated as it is, the title is apt: Still Life is low key, low-energy, and highly meditative. Still Life does not dwell, but it lives in a land of misfit toys which leaves a little room for playfulness.

Even with a healthy dose of the stillness – considering and reflecting on hard subjects – there’s still lots of movement; Morby shifts gears before songs feel too stagnant. That’s reflective, in many ways, of his move from New York City to Los Angeles last year. Throughout the album, he moves through themes of finding peace, death, and parades. When Morby handles the subject of death, he is never heavy-handed – instead, he is hopeful, considerate, but realistic. “I’m not dead, but I’m dying,” he says in “Amen,” the 7-minute track that has multiple movements that bleed into each other. “So slow, so slow,” he qualifies.

He sings in the haunting “Bloodsucker,” “I am trying to make peace with who I am,” and he hasn’t completely abandoned his former bands’ aesthetics. While Woods defines itself as a psych-folk band, Morby’s solo work focuses more on the folk aspect of that equation. In this way, Morby’s own influences come to full light: his love of Bob Dylan’s songwriting emerges in the fast paced “Ballad of Arlo Jones” which channels Dylan during his major move to electric in the 60s. “Motors Runnin” is a kindred spirit to The Babies; Cassie Ramone’s repeated lines in “Run Me Over” almost feels echoed in Morby’s track. In spite of the different influences and camaraderie, the tracks all feel right together. Still Life is carefully constructed, and sonically simple, but has just enough complexity in its riffs and hooks to keep the songs in your head after a few listens.

This much is clear: Morby has grown tremendously over the years as a musician and songwriter, and he shows no sign of stopping.

Still Life is out now on Woodsist. He’ll play some shows for CMJ; check out dates and watch his video for “All of My Life” below:

10/24 – Brooklyn, NY – Rough Trade (Aquarium Drunkard CMJ Showcase)
10/25 – Brooklyn, NY – Academy Records *Free*
12/01 – San Francisco, CA – Great American Music Hall w/ Angel Olsen
12/04 – Los Angeles, CA – El Rey Theatre w/ Angel Olsen

ALBUM REVIEW: Tomorrows Tulips “When”

Tomorrows Tulips Burget Records

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Tomorrows Tulips Burget Records
photo by Taylor Bonin

Tomorrows Tulips was born from the ashes of front man/pro-surfer Alex Knost’s previous venture, Japanese Motors, and a fortuitous experiment with his girlfriend at the time, Christina Kee. The twosome embarked on a musical union inspired by Kee’s fledgling foray into drumming, and by the next day, the group had the seeds of several songs. Following the pair’s only release, Knost was joined by Ford Archbold (bass, vocals) and Jamie Dutcher (drums) to create 2013’s Experimental Jelly and now, When – both on Burger Records.

Much exploratory elbow grease has gone into crafting the sound of this curious collaboration that prides itself on a “shambolic” approach. With every rendering, the group has fallen more fully into a chaotic, DIY sound that is completely their own. Originally motivated by 1960s rock & roll, Knost took refuge in the genre’s penchant for guts and creativity over technical ability. With When, their wave-riding nature has paid off, and a commitment to process has fed their efforts in creating a sound which embraces emotional transparency.

An acoustic, lo-fi wash and ear-catching chord progression serve as the canvass for “Surplus Store.” The track paints its subject vividly: “He pulls his tricks out of three-quarter sleeves / And combs his hair like the 90s / Hides a shoebox full of his broken dreams / A dirtbag revolution airing out in the seams.” On the bridge, Knost demonstrates his guitar chops, jamming on a solo that peals with rich, elastic groove.

Resounding with achy rumbles and feedback on the edge, When‘s title track stops and starts in husky contemplation. Haunting and dreamy, “When” captures what Tomorrows Tulips does best. The grainy, amped guitar line runs alongside the heavy echo of Archbold’s bass, eventually fading out and giving way to “Favorite Episode,” a mostly instrumental, experiential journey that rises and falls with reincarnations of a single, entrancing theme. Grunge-rattled growler “Glued to You” picks things back up, marked by breathy vocals and the perpetual pulse of the bass. The deep, uneasy grind of the guitar burrows into the darkly melodic refrain that chants, “Stay glued to you,” tapering off into ethereal, reverb-soaked oohs.

The appropriately-named conclusion of the record, “Clear,” closes the album with melodic reflection. Meditative and uplifting, it flows forth gently with tumbling riffs, steady strumming, and whimsical flits of flute, triangle, and strings. Both the vocals and lead guitar carry the melody line through, lulling the listener with the simplicity of a doubly-delivered refrain.

Mellow, lo-fi, and California-infused, it’s no wonder Tomorrows Tulips has culled such descriptions as “loser rock” and “bummer pop,” yet the band’s heart is anything but lackadaisical. Knost has been quoted saying that his ultimate muse is isolation in a world “masked by media, fashions, trends, and technology.” With When, Tomorrows Tulips has ventured their farthest yet, daring to put expression first on a mission to transcend vapid means of existence and reveal an inner life marked by authenticity.

https://soundcloud.com/burgerrecords/tomorrows-tulips-glued-to-you[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

ALBUM REVIEW: Homeshake “In the Shower”

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If you like your shower with a side of jazz and Twilight Zone, Homeshake’s new album on Sinderlyn/Bad Actors may be your spirit animal. Homeshake is the side project of Peter Sagar, better known for playing guitar with Mac DeMarco. Following the Dragon Ball Z-inspired release, The Homeshake Tapes, In the Shower is similarly strange and eclectic, with smooth, sliding vocals and wonky instrumentation. The name fits, albeit at times a la Psycho, with creepy voiceovers and unsettlingly discordant refrains.

Working out of Montreal, originally from Edmonton, Sagar draws intense inspiration from his frosty homeland. The album was recorded this last winter at Montreal’s Drones Club with the help of close friend Mike Wright. The feel is cool, in both senses of the word, with subtly grooving basslines and funky, tremolo-soaked guitar riffs. Homeshake’s bread and butter is the music Sagar jams on with his friends, and even the band’s name was derived from their handshake back home.

“Chowder,” second on the album and the first to catch my ear, is an off-kilter love song steeped in extraterrestrial vocals and guitar that smacks of a Brazilian bossa nova. Strangely clever lyrics add charm: “Sitting there just staring at the trees / Jonesing for a little of that cream / We’ll lock the door behind tonight / And leave a light on for your eyes / She’s my chowder and I love her so much.

“Making a Fool of You,” the standout at number four, is funky, melodic, and mellow. The catchy refrain is accentuated with warbling guitar and a stop and go rhythm that delivers an elastic groove. Sagar’s runny vocals lend themselves well to the sedate track.

“Michael” is next, adding an upbeat, instrumental interlude to the mix that quickly dissolves into “Cash is Money.” A steady ditty about taking a woman for all she’s worth, Sagar exercises his funny bone: “She can’t believe it but I don’t love you anymore / I just don’t feel it even though the cash flow keeps me warm.” “Slow,” at number eight, introduces a dreamy vibe with meandering complexity that is a stark contrast to the stripped sound of earlier tracks.

And then, there’s “The Shower Scene.” Set over a slow, jazzy jam and running water, the voiceover returns, tinkering between a pornographic Family Guy character and the masked omen of death in the Saw franchise. Not exactly what I want to hear in the deadliest room of the household, but hey, it’s cool if that’s your thing.

In the Shower is an altogether odd experience. Light humor and several delightfully funky melodies add substance, but the utterly unsettling gimmicks cheapen the concept. The album won’t leave you feeling clean, but if you let it wash over you, you’ll be sure to uncover a couple of gems.

ALBUM REVIEW: Empires “Orphan”

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Orphan, the first major label release on Chop Shop/Island Records from contemporary rockers Empires, is equal parts purist and fugitive. With deference for all that came before them, the four Chicago natives spin out in multiple, bold new directions. Throughout, Sean Van Vleet’s silky vocals run like water over the sharp edge of gritty garage rock instrumentation. At times, the group leads with their alternative core – a brooding acidity that first cracks, then erupts with uncontainable, melodic energy. In later tracks, the band summons the likes of 80s essentials New Order with their tasteful use of synth accents, overlapping reverbs, and pop-reminiscent harmonies. Furthermore, their experiments with unlikely intros on tracks “Silverfire” and “Shadowfaux” bring an element of spontaneity that cements Empires’ commitment to expanding their breadth and that of modern rock itself.

“Orphan,” the title track and second on the album, also begins unconventionally, with spacey sound effects and monotone strumming. However, the catapulting lick of the chorus soon brings forth a kaleidoscope of blurred streetlights and blue-black skylines. An utterly succinct track, it demonstrates Empires’ knack for compacting complexity. Experiential and transient, it foreshadows the album as a whole with its sprawling scope and often indescribable landscape of emotions.

Next comes “Hostage.” Coarse upon the ears, jagged in the chest, the track is firmly rooted in that ominous, alternative world that is Empires’ lifeblood. Van Vleet’s intonation echoes with the raspy quake of the guitars, revealing a rawness to his instrument that was previously unknown to the listener. “I struggle with the loneliness / And you, you help me, you’re the cure for it,” he confesses in the rousing bridge, going on to unleash the full power of his resounding bellow to the very last screech of the amp.

Smack-dab in the middle of the 11-track LP is “Lifers,” a waif-like interlude striking in its simplicity. Whimsical verses float upon dreamy keyboards and lackadaisical drumbeats. It makes for a soothing pause before Orphan launches into a second half characterized by pop/new wave sentiments. “Please Don’t Tell My Lover,” a funky delight at #8, demands the listener’s attention. It’s fresh, complete with warped synth strings that drift in and out around an addicting, bouncy guitar riff. The vocal runs on the chorus are so catchy, they imprint themselves instantly in the mind, and the beat is sure to motivate a move or two, adding a dance hit to the album’s already impressive list of rock subgenres.

Finally, at second to last, there’s “Glow.” Stripped down strumming and sparse drumming accompany an insightful, meandering lyric line that muses, “Inspired on failed love in the debris of heart dust / When the night falls I expose to give you a show / And I need you to glow.” Repeatedly, choruses explode forth from a crescendo of drums and oohs that ring out like sirens, but it all stops abruptly in the end. A guileless conviction fully expressed, there is nothing left to be said.

There’s much to be said of this “empirical” venture though. Epic and edgy, the album is just the sort of statement that should mark a major label debut for burgeoning headliners. Drawing inspiration from the best of influences all the while influencing us to find new inspiration, Orphan solidifies Empires’ status as a group that other rock musicians will be taking cues from soon.

Listen to “Please Don’t Tell My Lover” from Orphan via Soundcloud.

Catch the boys at one of their many North American tour stops below:

10/2 – Kansas City, MO at the Record Bar
10/4 – Austin, TX at Austin City Limits
10/10 – Austin, TX at Stubbs Jr.
10/11 – Austin, TX at Austin City Limits
10/17 – Akron, OH at Musica
10/18 – Columbus, OH at the Rumba Cafe
10/19 – Grand Rapids, MI at Founders Brewing Company
10/21 – Minneapolis, MN at 7th St. Entry
10/23 – DeKalb, IL at the House Cafe
10/24 – Champaign, IL at Error Records
11/7 – Pontiac, MI at the Pike Room
11/8 – Pittsburgh, PA at the Smiling Moose
11/9 – Philadelphia, PA at the Barbary
11/11 – Boston, MA at Church of Boston
11/13 – Hoboken, NJ at the W Hotel
11/14 – Brooklyn, NY at Baby’s All Right
11/15 – Washington, DC at DC9
11/16 – Carrboro, NC at Cat’s Cradle Back Room

ALBUM REVIEW: Braeves “Drifting by Design”

Braeves

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Childhood friends Ryan Colt Levy and Derek Tramont are the backbone of Long Island ensemble Braeves, but it was a labor of love and experimentation with more recent add-ons Thomas Killian McPhillips IIV and Nick LaFalce that brought forth their melodically-inspired new sound. The group, produced by Mike Watts, has garnered comparisons to Local Natives, The Shins, and Grizzly Bear, undoubtedly owing to their rich, echoing vocals that move over a similar rock/pop landscape. However, there’s a driving quality embedded in EP Drifting by Design that diverges from what we know and moves us graciously toward “Braeve” new territory.

The quartet doesn’t waste any time. From the very first drum lick in “Guest of the Gun,” Levy’s vocals ring out with a captivating presence that bends along the roving refrain. Melody and percussion play off one another, the rhythmic lyrics and sliding vocals crackling with McPhillips’ slick beat.

The EP then moves to more somber, minor-resounding terrain with “Talk Like Strangers,” a percussive rumble continuing to power the album’s course. This track unleashes Braeves’ lyrical prowess with a succinct, familiar tale of two people found foreign to one another in the wake of their mutually faded affection: “We talk like strangers in empty storylines / Stare right through each other, then on to the next lie.” Trapped by false notions of one another, they lean on illusion to ride out the storm: “Ooh, hallucinate yourself the perfect lover / Dressed in best intention, dripping with another.”

Next comes the standout – the lilting, soulful mid-tempo “Souls in Transit.” Keyboards tumble from a daydream, followed by the entrancing ebb and flow of an undulating lyric line. Levy’s vocals are rawer and realer than before, a fresh and gravelly timbre added to both his suspended falsetto and delectably pliable straight tones. Amped, electric strings break out on the chorus, and the refrain lifts from the ground for a few breathtakingly weightless moments before gliding softly back down to the swaying bass line.

At last, the EP goes out on a rolling surge in the form of “While Your Body Sleeps.” Percussion and vocals intermingle once more and throw themselves at the canvas, building to a cacophony of vibrant sights and sounds that reaches its apex, then fades.

What Braeves have brought us in Drifting by Design is that up-and-at-‘em feel that gives their soulful meander indelible purpose. It is a sound untouched by wanderlust and un-plagued by aimlessness, yet one that paints a vivid reverie nonetheless. It manages to tell the tale of that most surreal and ambling journey, remaining firmly planted in the present while at the same time boundlessly moving forward, unstoppable as life. It is Braeves’ arduously crafted design that gives this ode to a drifting trajectory the capacity to soar.

ALBUM REVIEW: Justin Townes Earle “Single Mothers”

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The delightfully bespectacled Justin Townes Earle dependably releases a record every year or so, and has done so since 2007. He can be counted on for more than just punctuality, too. Not one of Earle’s records is a dud: at worst, he’s palatable and bland, and at his best, he expertly shines a light into fresh quadrants of the well-traversed territory of outlaw Americana. He comes honestly by his “darlin'”s and “mama”s–the son of Texas songwriter Steve Earle, who gave him his middle name in honor his godfather Townes van Zandt, JTE is the heir apparent of modern country, and despite what’s perhaps an understandable reluctance to fully embrace the Nashville lifestyle, the stuff seeps out of his pores. Every song is a story, piled high with neatly turned guitar work and vocals that can be mournful or flirtatious, contemplative or charming.

Often, in his songwriting, Earle plays the suave but troubled rambler. First there was “Ain’t Glad I’m Leaving,” off his full-length debut The Good Life, wherein he balks at romantic commitment and assures a protesting lover that she’s better off without him. Then came Midnight at the Movies, which included the similarly self-depracatory but audibly grief-stricken “Someday I’ll Be Forgiven For This.” As is often the case, true stories are behind the good lyrics. The years since he released his first EP Yuma haven’t been entirely smooth for Earle, who struggled with drug abuse and an arrest that led him into rehab in 2010.

He’s been sober for a couple of albums now, but his music still dips into the lonely, complicated character that defined the folk singer’s early work. The somber sections of Single Mothers, though, crystallize around the simple and deep-rooted sadness of an abandoned child–as opposed to the empty braggadocio of a loner who just can’t be tamed, not even by the love of a good woman. Maybe this interpretation reads into the title a little too much. The son of an absent famous father, Earle grew up with a single mother of his own.

But the title track–its steady beat and simple, symmetrical lyrical structure–sets the tone for the rest of Single Mothers in terms of gravity and mutedness. Reduced to its essential components, Earle’s songwriting doesn’t always grab your attention the way that his younger, more caddish self might. But there’s a payoff: you get to hear his voice at its most vulnerable.

Which isn’t to say that JTE has totally lost his swagger. “My Baby Drives” provides some rockabilly-ish, dance hall relief from the intimacy of “Single Mothers” and the forlorn next track, “Today and a Lonely Night.” “Wanna Be a Stranger” floats along with all the lightness and insta-nostalgia of small towns you drive through and don’t stop in. As a collection, though, Single Mothers tends towards interior songwriting that favors quiet payoffs over flashy country licks. In fact, it is as if Earle particularly avoided that kind of sexy troubledness that falls to those who walk out of their homes and go wandering, opting instead for the unshowy and exhausted hardship left for the single mothers who remain behind.

Single Mothers dropped September 9th on Vagrant Records, and you can order the album here. Check out the music video for “Time Shows Fools,” off Single Mothers, below!

ALBUM REVIEW: ODESZA “In Return”

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Since its inception in late 2012, the Seattle-based electronic duo ODESZA (Harrison Mills/Catacomb Kid and Clayton Knight/BeachesBeaches) has been both prolific and consistent. In particular, the pair made an unlikely fan out of this usually-EDM-ambivalent listener last November with the soulful and sparkly NO.SLEEP Mix.01which oozed with personality and R&B inflected melodies. In the two years they’ve been together, Mills and Knight have also put out two full length albums, an EP, and a handful of remixes. They already have a cross-country tour under their belt, and played Sasquatch! Festival last Memorial Day weekend in the luminous company of acts such as Bon Iver and Macklemore & Ryan Lewis. ODESZA’s strength has always been their ability to infuse their songs with soul; amidst the bevy of synths and over-saturated shimmering, the music never pales to clinical.

In Return, the duo’s release, demonstrates a broad range of emotion, from the elated and catchy opener “Always This Late”–which reminds me of pretty much all of NO.SLEEP Mix.01–to tracks like “White Lies,” which draws on syncopated beats and the sharp harmonies of guest vocalist Jenni Potts, to the impressionistic and heat-sleepy “Sun Models.”

I appreciate the variation, though my favorites from this collection still exemplify the sweet soulfulness that endeared me to ODESZA in the first place. The record is front-loaded, with its catchiest, and ultimately most memorable songs listed as tracks one, two, and three– “Always This Late,” “Say My Name,” and Bloom.” However, on the group’s previous releases, there was a case to be made that their albums got boring in the middle. Some of In Return‘s back-half tracks, like “Koto,” show off new textures that liven up the repertoire and keep the music interesting, if sort of identity-less.

Having mastered lovable vocal riffs and bubbly musical landscapes, ODESZA turns, on In Return, to experimental new depths. The result drops September 9th on Counter Records, and you can go here to order the gorgeous vinyl pressing, or stream via SoundCloud below:

 

ALBUM REVIEW: Duologue “Never Get Lost”

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The many worlds traversed in Duologue’s newest album, Never Get Lost, must be revisited time and time again in order for each crevice of its ethereal soundscape to fully reveal itself to the listener. The emotional experience of this London five-some’s latest work, however, is best summed up by the cover art – a soul continually falling through mist towards a dark forest bathed in unexplainable light. Like a dream remembered in vivid detail, Never Get Lost runs through the mind with a fervid passion for the story it has to tell.

The story is, according to its own creators, that of people isolated in a digital age, and the metamorphosis that their existence and relationships must undergo to adapt to this harsh new reality. Despite this inner dialogue on melancholy and seclusion, the album is no foray into despair. From the onset, Duologue insert their intention to make a statement about this oddly plastic reality we live in. They start with “Memex” (or memory index), a hypothetical technology proposed in the forties to store information and supplement the mind. From those first resounding notes of Never Get Lost, the listener is drawn deep into the swirling undertow of a pensive pulse, the gateway to Duologue’s mysterious land stalked by the beasts of both darkness and light.

Among the most achingly plaintive tracks is lead single “Forests,” a venture into the most mystical corners of the imagination, sparkling with plucked strings and enduringly wistful vocals from frontman Tim Digby-Bell. Each layer of the composition pierces the next with strangeness and mystery; meanwhile, its lyrics mirror the urgency of the beat that anchors the track: “Say the things you need to say / Let me down the easy way.

“Drag And Drop” is sure to leave an imprint, albeit in an altogether different way, yet complimentary to the album’s scope and the band’s remarkable versatility nonetheless. Imbued with sexy electric rhythms and an intensely addictive refrain that coos and cracks, lamenting in sardonic simplicity “You’re stuck inside my heart,” the track makes good use of Digby-Bell’s richly elastic falsetto. It’s representative of the ways in which the group has grown – for this, their second studio album, they’ve carved away at their eclectic sound to craft a masterful style that melds booming electronic beats with eerily captivating melodies that drift from plaintive vocals.

Never Get Lost is an ironic title for this 45-minute journey steeped in myth and introspection. Above all else, you become exactly that – lost – deep in the folds of cascading melodies and electronic beats. But when you eventually come up for air, breaking the surface to bob a moment before the blue-grey sky, you long to submerge again into that deeply haunting space, finding yourself looking through wider eyes with a pulse calmed by the rocking motion of the waters below. When the pause finally ends and you are ready to move forward, you step off of that visceral cloud and firmly onto the ground, your insides expanded and your consciousness greater than before.

ALBUM REVIEW: Helado Negro “Double Youth”

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After a slew of collaborations (Bear In HeavenDevendra Banhart, Julianna Barwick, and others), Roberto Carlos Lange retreated inward to make Double Youth, his fourth full-length release as Helado Negro. Recorded largely in Lange’s home studio in Brooklyn, the album is constructed with simple tools: easy, percussive beats and lullaby-like vocals that swing between Spanish and English. The whole thing falls somewhere between abstract and danceable.

Double Youth‘s guiding theme–and its cover art–comes from an old poster from Lange’s childhood, which he had forgotten about until he pulled it out of the back of his closet one day, in the early stages of recording the album. The image of the two boys posing together, looking both twin-like and not, resonated with Lange. Twosomes crop up everywhere in the making and music of this album: the poster reminded Lange of the warmth of a familiar memory, but also of how far away from that memory he had come; his vocals overlap Spanish with English; the beats recall block party bass lines booming from car speakers, but they easily turn tranquil, with a delicate motif of watery arpeggios that cycles forlornly through this collection. Its components laid bare, Double Youth feels like a conversation, and a kind of imperfect twinship, between voice and computer.

The album’s front half floats by like a pink cloud: the bouncy single “I Krill You” and subsequent track “It’s Our Game” are the two catchiest songs on the collection, and Lange’s lullaby voice is like melted chocolate drizzled over the beat. But over the course of Double Youth, the music develops a huge amount of texture. By the time we get to “That Shit Makes Me Sad,” the cyclical and moody closer, melodies have grown into landscapes, and the early tracks’ sweetness subsides into a strangeness that’s still vaguely benevolent.

On September 2nd, Double Youth will waft gently down to earth, courtesy of Asthmatic Kitty Records. If you simply cannot wait that long to be soothed by smooth vocals and delighted by playful beats, you can stream the whole enchilada over at Pitchfork, in anticipation of the album’s release. Check out “I Krill You” to get a taste:

ALBUM REVIEW: Weyes Blood “The Innocents”

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Just now, I googled “1960s witchy psychedelic folk,” grasping, I guess, for a manageable term that encapsulates both Nico’s glamourous theatrics and Brigitte Fontaine’s quirky darkness. I’m sitting at a table in the pool-house out back of a big and beautiful summer home on the coast of Maine, where I’ve been hired as a kind of temporary live-in servant. I shit you not. I’ve got a view of the Atlantic from nearly point blank range, and the moon is new, and all things witchy seem more than possible tonight.

Natural beauty this acute makes any little thing that sticks out of the landscape seem intentionally sinister, like the pale pink dismembered crab torso I saw ripped open and splayed out on a rock while I was on the beach this evening waiting for the moon to rise. The music of Weyes Blood, whose earth name is Natalie Mering, is sort of like that–so beautiful that its oddness makes that beauty spooky, and so strange that its classical loveliness gleams even brighter.

Mering has been under the radar for a couple of years, but that doesn’t mean she’s stayed quiet. After a stint with experimental psych folk outfit Jackie-O Motherfucker, she sang backup vocals for Ariel Pink, and has since performed prodigiously as a solo artist – touring, appearing at festivals, and playing shows of her own with friends like Quilt and The Entrance Band‘s Guy Blakeslee.

In 2011, Mering released The Outside Room, her debut under the Weyes Blood name, on Not Not Fun. Already then, her basic toolkit (haunting vocals, ancient-sounding folk music) was essentially intact, although The Innocents reveals some significant updates. Less funereal but more complicated, Weyes Blood substitutes her first album’s foundation of abject misery for one of classical–even courtly–dignity. Harmonizing against herself, Mering’s vocals take on an entirely new, much richer quality on The Innocents, almost like putting on 3D glasses. But that isn’t to say that melancholy has no place on the album: when Weyes Blood tells you, in the middle of the strange, sad, choral “Some Winters” that “I’m as broken as woman can be,” you believe her. That’s the kind of voice she’s got, low and regal and primed for heartbreak. The finery of that song has a cracked-china feel to it, stemming from its psychedelic tendencies. Static and interference marr dreamy piano arpeggios. The angelic chorus of ahhs hovering around Mering’s tortured alto like a halo slowly melts into a mechanized humming that sounds like the low buzz of an airplane engine. When the song has sentimental moments, something cold and sterile always follows.

If, like me, you’re listening to Weyes Blood someplace wild and desolate, The Innocents intensifies things. It is sparse and spooky. It makes it easy to suspend your disbelief and get swept along with Mering’s moonlit, forlorn reality.

The Innocents won’t be out in the U.S. until Oct 21st, but you can pre-order your physical or digital copy by heading on over to Mexican Summer. In the meantime, check out “Hang On,” the album’s power-driven first single. “I will hang on when the rains come and wash away all I’ve come from,” Mering sings, holding the melody steady as the rest of the song careens through chord progressions and time signatures.   The song is sturdy at its core, her voice a pillar of strength in the center of an embellished, rhythmically complex track. She plays Baby’s All Right in Brooklyn on Friday, August 22nd.

ALBUM REVIEW: Israel Nash “Rain Plans”

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The long-locked, regally bearded songwriter Israel Nash Gripka marries spacey psychedelic guitar work to wind-chilled vocals that pay a nod to Neil Young; Gripka’s songs amble, they meditate, they conduct experiments in theme and variation. His third and latest studio album, Rain Plans (out August 19th!) finds Gripka signed to independent British label Loose Music–an apt enough match, given Loose Music’s strong stable of Americana standards like Townes Van Zandt, Neko Case, and Steve Earle. And Gripka has some history in common with your average modern cowboy: originally of Missouri, he moved to New York City to release his first two albums, then split for Dripping Springs, Texas, where he soaked up what he refers to as the area’s “desert folklore” as inspiration for this forlorn, majestic new release.

I’m always interested to see what comes from a matchup of psychedelia and Americana. Despite the genres’ shared theme of wanderlust, the former tends to focus on that wandering’s texture and color, whereas the latter deals in oral history and storytelling. Long stretches of Rain Plans feel like deliberate efforts to let the songwriting move on a long leash, to see where the mind will go when it’s left to its own devices, in the absence of the civilization or plot. The musical patterns are cyclical, the melody unhurried, even listless. In one of the album’s most interior portions, in the back half of the title track, all  vocals melt away, leaving a swirling and seemingly endless cycle of mesmerizing guitars. The only thing that remains fixed is the pace: held firm, as if by a metronome, at a slow stroll.

So it’s clear that the album is a journey, but one that moves in circles, and it may test many listeners’ patience not to see the point of all this meandering. With all due respect to the virtues of wandering without being lost, these songs are so relaxed that they sometimes don’t appear to grow from start to finish. There isn’t necessarily going to be development from one end of a song to another; in the worst case scenario, the music instead restates the same idea over and over again, in different ways. Rain Plans isn’t necessarily an album that’s going to tell you a story that has a clear-cut beginning, middle, and end.

But if you have time to sit with it a while, the album proves that, for Gripka, spaciousness rarely equals stagnancy. Consider the shimmeringly gorgeous “Iron of the Mountain,” which establishes a single, circular melody–one moment in time, one color–and then extends it for almost four and a half minutes. Rain Plans richly evokes the vivid aesthetic of folklore: it’s a snapshot, rather than a story, of the landscape. Think of it as a collection of moments, which bear loose connection but don’t need each other in order to function.

The only exception to that logic is the closer, “Rexanimarum,” which is Rain Plans’ most unabashedly rootsy track, with lyrics like “pour me out just like sour wine,” and even echoes of old country songs, “got the money if you got the time.” With a lovely and light touch of backup vocals, this song may be the album’s sunniest, and is certainly its most singalong-friendly.

Check out the full album stream over at the A.V. Club, and go here to order your physical copy of Rain Plans! Listen to “Rain Plans,” with all its swirly melodies and smooth vocal harmonies, below via SoundCloud:

 

ALBUM REVIEW: Amanda X “Amnesia”

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Credit: Instagram/@catpark
Credit: Instagram/@catpark

When Amanda X plays shows, they are often put in a lineup with other bands featuring all women. Every time I’ve seen them live, they were joined by other female-fronted acts.  Some fans, upon hearing that they are an all-girl act, will throw around terms like riot grrrl, and though riot grrrl is wonderful and there is nothing wrong with solidarity among female musicians, the band isn’t part of any particularly political movement. Indeed, on their debut LP Amnesia, out on Siltbreeze July 28th, Amanda X doesn’t take root in harsh – and sometimes abrasive – punk music in the same way riot grrrl acts did. Instead, they make a home somewhere between twee and punk – which leads to catchy, yet hard-hitting tracks.

There is a certain personal honesty in Amnesia. The Philly-based trio (no, none of them are named Amanda) has two songwriters and singers (Cat Park and Kat Bean), which makes for an interesting dynamic from track to track. They are candid enough to have lines like “I know, baby, you’re trouble, but for now I want you to stay,” or something as simple as “I feel so weird.” By the sounds of it, their writing process could lead to a depressing, bland, emotional album about breakups. Their pop sensibility, and some hard-hitting drum parts courtesy of Tiffany Yoon, saves them here.

Amnesia is more produced than their previous tracks and EPs, which makes the album’s sound less raw, but makes each song’s perfect pop structure stand out more. There are hooks, songs worthy of screaming along to, and earworm-worthy riffs, but there is never a point in Amnesia where the sound feels plastic or manufactured. Amanda X knows what they’re good at, and it’s always believable. In “Dream House,” the chorus is just a repetitive line, “My heart will break.” Instead of trailing off into a daze, the line only increases in a pulsing, booming intensity.

Instead of addressing anything political, the trio works primarily on the individual: the tracks on the LP revolve around individual crises, passions, and rejections, sung from the perspective of an “I” that rarely if ever implies a “we.” With the weighty politics we pin to most female-fronted acts, it’s nice to finally enjoy a record for its sonic qualities alone. In fact, the lack of gender politics in Amanda X’s music exposes the tired associations that most  media outlets make when it comes to the discussion of women making and playing music. Why is it that every musical act featuring women needs to be asked about their ‘mission statement’ with regards to being women? When we consider riot grrrl’s influence on Amanda X, it isn’t wrong, but it’s certainly a marker of the limited boxes in which we place female-identified musicians.

Amnesia is not about a movement, but it’s poppy enough to get anyone moving. It’s being released digitally July 28th with a street date of August 5th. Listen to their track “Guatamala” below:

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EP REVIEW: My Brightest Diamond “None More Than You”

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My Brightest Diamond
My Brightest Diamond shot by Bernd Preimi

“Slow…….slow……slowin’ down;” this is how you must approach My Brightest Diamond’s new EP None More Than You. And just so there’s no confusion, those are the very first words vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Shara Worden utters on the EP, ushering us into a wildly vivid dream world that serves as the theme for this short but darkly profound collection of tracks.

Those words from “Dreaming Awake,” and None More Than You offers not one, but two mixes of the song; first there’s the Son Lux Mix, an ominous rendition of the song that lyrically and musically captures the struggle of bobbing between reality and reverie. After its hushed opening lines, the tune quickly erupts into a shrill distorted version Worden’s falsetto that punctures the serenity of the mellow keyboard and string sections. This is truly the magic of this mix, because the push and pull of what Worden is pleading, arguably within herself, contrasts and also complements harmoniously with the music, easily cultivating a sense of urgency and anxiety within the listener. The pounding drum at 1:25 feels like the pulse of an anxious heart rattling against a breastbone—the only thing that assuages the beating are the self-persuading lyrics clawing us back into the crux of longing to be forever “dreaming awake.” What begins as an internal struggle thrusts outward into the external world halfway into the song. The drums begin to have more constancy as the tempo picks up and the wind section mimics the fluttery exhalation of an anxiety attack. When the lyrics ask “What is all this rushing about?” it begins to become clear that the external forces have overtaken one’s self control, and the whole song’s meaning is reflected in the struggle between hearing Worden’s operatic voice over the apocalyptic grandeur of the music. By the song’s  fluttery close, Worden’s vocals are lost in a haze of bustling, brassy noise.

Providing a little context and perspective three tracks later, the Mason Jar mix of “Dreaming Awake” is far less intense but reflects the struggle as a more personal foe, the music more acutely representing anxiety as it pertains to the individual. While the Son Lux mix equates dreaming with escapism with its flurried, erratic compostion, the Mason Jar mix lulls us once more, depicting the dreaming state as a cherished and fleeting wonderland. Worden revisits these concepts again on “Dream Don’t Look Like.” This short track seems to be the rational middle ground of an ongoing psychological struggle. Vocally, Worden takes it easy on this track, as does the backing music, her vocal as ethereal as folk greats like Vashti Bunyan and Sibylle Baier. “Dreams Don’t Look Like” isn’t as harsh or dramatic as the tracks before it; its wandering spirit doesn’t crescendo and all elements are harmonious at once as the lyrics signify a somatic realization about what dreaming does and does not achieve.

The EP’s second track is probably closest to what we’ve heard from My Brightest Diamond’s prior releases, with a galactic appeal that’s contrastingly upbeat compared to the rest of the record. It removes us from the introspection found in dreamier tracks, with jaunty, cosmic synths and charming orchestral embellishments playing lightly around Worden’s soaring, percussive vocal.  Lyrically, Worden here suggests that mortality is not the parameter of existence. The song is the manic high on the EP, even during its most moody moments.

And finally, we part with Worden at the appropriately titled “That Point When.” With the same drowsy quality of Bjork’s “Possibly Maybe,” harp-like strings and lush vocal harmonies sleepwalk throughout “That Point When” as it serves as the final sequence to everything posed before. Though it feels airy and conflict free, the angelic backup vocals actively contradict Worden when she poses the question do you think it’s too late?, here more equivocal to a cheeky devil on the singer’s shoulder. This song’s abrupt ending acts as a bit of a cliffhanger, by its end there is a vague sense of release but a lingering sense of indecisiveness. Its final sensations are that of questions with only hazy answers, but there’s also a lulling feeling that that’s okay after all is said and done.

My Brightest Diamond’s None More Than You EP is a gorgeously crafted journey of the psyche, sprinkled with existential musings questioning reality and fantasy and the constant limbo of the mind between the two. The EP is out now, preceding the release of a full length album due out on September 16, titled This is My Hand. She’ll embark on a three month long tour in the fall; til then you can stream the EP via Soundcloud below:

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