Wednesday, November 25, 2009

It takes a certain amount of cheek to tease an upcoming album with what's slated to be its concluding track. It takes even more of that particular brand of moxie when said track features the band in question at perhaps its most dour and most ebullient, and connects those disparate dots in a relatively economical four minutes. But the mad science practiced by Hot Chip in "Take It In" makes that sort of inconceivable alchemy look like Chemistry 101. Not only do the ominous and sterile verses (think synth-pop circa early Human League) segue seamlessly into the soaring disco-ball-lit chorus, but they play off each other perfectly, each showing the other's good side to grand effect. The two parts of "Take It In" flirt with their own particular brands of bad taste-- the verses with their po-faced declarations ("I am in the need of affection"), and the chorus with its squishy earnestness ("my heart has flown to you just like a dove")-- but they emerge from these dalliances unscathed, if not embedded in listeners' noggins. The tune's catchiness is probably the most impressive thing about it-- Hot Chip's written plenty of earworms to date, but you'd be hard-pressed to find one that's both as shameless and effortless as this track. When that heart gets to flying, it's hard not to get swept up as well, and there's no shame in that.

[from One Life Stand; due 02/09/10 in the U.S. on Astralwerks and 02/08/10 in the UK on Parlophone]

— David Raposa, November 25, 2009
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If artists like this popped up all the time, the term "angular" wouldn't just be a cliché for male Chapel Hill-style indie-guitar bands. But there's something infinitely charming about bands like this, who decide to play all the wrong notes in all the wrong order and somehow make it a hook. All-female UK trio Wetdog's vision has more logic than Erase Errata but less body than the lavishly reissued Pylon. Their brand of garage noise is both surfy and no wave-ish, with bored moans for lyrics and a culminating "whoa-oh/eeeeiiiiiooo" chorus that would make spiritual forebears LiLiPUT squeak in proud delight. Aside from the dada-like meaninglessness, the overall impression is yours for the taking: spirited, sloppy, childlike, strangely hummable at the weirdest times, rhythmically tight, a ham-organ solo for extra B-movie trash effect. Significance? They're certainly not straining for it. But worth a listen if you cherish your copies of No New York and The B-52's equally.

MP3:> Wetdog: "Tidy Up Your Bedroom"

[from Frauhaus!; out 11/30/09 on Angular]

— Dan Weiss, November 25, 2009
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What worked in 1964 doesn't always work in 2009. Covering Gladys Knight & the Pips' hit "Giving Up" for the Daptone Gold comp, Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings made the obvious adjustments to Van McCoy's composition, speeding it up almost imperceptibly and giving it the preserved-in-amber Daptone touch. The band adds just the right touches of tension and drama: During the verses, the baritone sax delivers bad news to the horns, and the back-up singers turn the title into a staccato consolation. But on the bridge, they try to re-create the gently baroque flourishes of piano and horns, which sound too stuffy and mannered for this cover. It breaks the historical spell, like that episode of "Mad Men" with background music by the Decemberists. As ever, Jones keeps the song on track, giving a typically ragged performance modeled on Knight's emotive, enunciative style. Like any good singer-- soul or otherwise-- she has true presence and poise, and once again overcomes what could have been retro schtick through sheer power of will.

[from Daptone Gold; out now on Daptone]

— Stephen M. Deusner, November 25, 2009
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Tuesday, November 24, 2009

We expect a certain brunchiness from Norah Jones' music, and even though her new album is being characterized as a more hard-edged "rock" endeavor, she's still in her comfort zone of mellow, cozy sounds that pair very nicely with mimosas and Eggs Benedict. That said, this album track co-written with Okkervil River's Will Sheff is less like a farm-fresh frittata and more like the greasy bacon and eggs you choke down at a diner at 4 a.m. after a long night of heavy drinking. The lyrics describe an awkward encounter at a bar, and feeling paralyzed in the presence of some pestering dude, and, though it's unclear what the back story with this guy could be, the ache and desperation comes through loud and clear whether he's an annoying bro or an ex with a complicated history. The guitar chords clunk along with an appealing degree of heft without overwhelming the airiness of the vocal, and the disconnect between the two elements nicely captures the feeling of staggering about in a stupor, trying to muster just enough sobriety to make it home, or keep from bursting into tears. To a certain extent the lyrics convey details that could just as well be implied in the music, but as it is, "Stuck" evokes a vivid scene and emotional state without getting overwrought or too obvious.

[from The Fall; out now on Blue Note/EMI]

— Matthew Perpetua, November 24, 2009
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Charlotte Hatherley is a curious case. Pound for pound, the ex-Ash (and current Bat For Lashes) guitarist's solo jams typically pack more hooks than a tackle box-- check 2004 single "Kim Wilde", a crash course in catchy that doubles as a thesis in pop economy, with nary a "bah-bah" too many nor too few. As a songwriter, Hatherley's sharp but never ponderous, and as a guitarist, she consistently churns out melodies with an instant appeal and an original edge. Somehow, none of this has stopped widespread fame from eluding her thus far.

Hard to say whether "Alexander", the new single from Hatherley's third album, New Worlds, will serve to buck this unfortunate trend. Like her best tracks, it's full of twists and turns, continually redefining itself as it goes: first a ruminative acoustic ballad, then an acrobatic exercise in compound choruses, then a sassy talk-sing-along. As names go, "Alexander" is quite a polysyllable to cram into a pop hook, but Hatherley pulls it off with characteristic ease. Perhaps it's all a little too busy or serpentine to buzz with the masses-- it's certainly too intricate and in-your-face to politely melt into the background of this week's token teen television drama-- but Hatherley knows what she's going for and she gets there.

[from New Worlds; out now on Minty Fresh/Little Sister]

— Matthew Solarski, November 24, 2009
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With as much inherent pop-accessibility as Bitte Orca has, it's kind of surprising something like this hadn't already happened in the six months since Dirty Projectors' latest dazzler saw release. And while part of me is curious as to what it would sound like if the older, less-quirky Knowles sister were to give it a go, Solange's sleek and sexy approach realizes its potential. Recording multiple vocal tracks that occasionally overlap, Solange nicely replicates the skewed harmonies that Amber Coffman and Angel Deradoorian love so much, providing space to ad-lib and play around with the stuttering drums and tambourines. Neatest trick: Dave Longstreth's batty guitar hook is swapped out for an equally juicy one, from Soul Mann & the Brothers' "Bumpy's Lament" (notable for anchoring Dr. Dre's "XXplosive" and Erykah Badu's "Bag Lady"). It's a brilliantly sly take on a great song that reflects the malleability of Dirty Projectors' music as well as Solange's impeccable taste.

Stream:> Solange: "Stillness Is the Move"

[self-released]

— Zach Kelly, November 24, 2009
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Monday, November 23, 2009

Yeah, a group of three girls called Mountain Man. They sound as old as the hills and as current as some micro-genre that doesn't have a stupid name yet. With woodsy acoustic guitars and lilting, reverbed harmonies, the Bennington, Vt.-based trio of Molly Erin Sarle, Alexandra Sauser-Monnig, and Amelia Randall Meath set up camp between the old-timey lilt of Alela Diane or Fleet Foxes and the laid-back lo-fi vibes of Underwater Peoples pals like Real Estate or Julian Lynch. All that said, nothing about Mountain Man's nostalgic underneath-the-stars simplicity really grabbed me until I heard a cover of "Animal Tracks" by Alex Bleeker and the Freaks. Where Bleeker's version rides in on enough Crazy Horse-type guitar to inspire another three Kurt Vile albums, Mountain Man's unadorned original foregrounds earnest vocals, concrete sensory details, and an equally sturdy melody; "The sweat will roll down our backs," the Mountain women sing. When you get far enough from civilization, hygiene isn't important.

MP3:> Mountain Man: "Animal Tracks"

[from Mountain Man; out now and self-released]

— Marc Hogan, November 23, 2009
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Tragic car crashes...plans for the dance gone awry...the first kiss...the thematic palette for girl-group-style pop is well defined. The same motifs emerge so often that it becomes relatively easy to tune out the lyrics and home in on the high-stepping beats and careful orchestrations that launched this corner of pop to venerated heights. British sextet Lucky Soul might have fallen into this trap with "White Russian Doll", save Ali Howard's voice, which (although polished) sounds a bit like that of an adolescent. Because she sounds so young, her vocals lend what might otherwise be some overly familiar lyrics ("I will always be there when you call/ No pressure at all/ White Russian doll") a sinister depth. In a sensual, mature voice, these sentiments might sound knowing, but Howard's girlish coo launches these lyrics into a slightly creepy realm. Another layer emerges during the refrain: "Inside, there is you/ Inside, there is you/ Inside, there is you," a subtle and clever metaphor for matryoshka-- nesting Russian dolls, the person-within-a-person concept that I've always found unsettling. We often like our pop music with a high-gloss veneer to smooth over the dark underpinnings, and "Doll" certainly fits the bill-- content that toes the line of propriety, bested by a tuneful sound that makes you forget about those social mores.

Stream:> Lucky Soul: "White Russian Doll"

[from the "White Russian Doll" single; due 01/11/10; also from A Coming of Age; due March 2010; both on Ruffa Lane]

— Susannah Young, November 23, 2009
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The only thing that stays the same with Animal Collective is change. Even if you don't think they're consistently brilliant, at least they're consistently different-- they have an open-minded, progressive attitude that I find more admirable as their profile grows. Like most of January's Merriweather Post Pavilion, "What Would I Want? Sky"-- from the forthcoming Fall Be Kind EP-- doesn't sound like anything the band recorded before it, but it still sounds like Animal Collective (call it style, call it voice-- they just manage to color everything they touch).

"Sky" is probably one of the more legible, straightforward pieces of music the band has released, and is also among the most immediately appealing: three minutes of lightly overdriven drum breaks and vocal lines dissolve into three minutes of high-gloss folk-pop. The guitars are audible, the percussion is recognizable. They probably could've made it easier to bob your head to; instead, they put it in a tricky time signature that feels like the meter infants learn to walk in. There's something here that reminds me of new age or yoga or the 1990s, but I can't put my finger on it-- whatever it is, it's appropriate coming from a group that has, through no specific positioning of their own, become the jamband for people who profess to dislike jambands.

Oh, on jambands: "Sky" samples-- and takes its title from-- Grateful Dead's "Unbroken Chain" (incidentally, the first-ever cleared GD sample). Considering the Dead are probably personae non gratae with a good chunk of the A.C. demographic, the sample comes as a nice band-fan challenge (personally, I've never been a big Grateful Dead fan, but my objections are musical, not social). In the original song, the lyric is "Willow sky/ Whoa, I walk and wonder why." In Animal Collective's version, the lyric is flipped: The end of the line becomes the beginning, and "Whoa, I walk" is deliberately misheard as "What would I want?" I mention it because it's what this band has always done for me: take a sound and turn it inside out to make something new, but something recognizable, even familiar.

[from the Fall Be Kind EP; out now digitally and due 12/15/09 on Domino]

— Mike Powell, November 23, 2009
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Friday, November 20, 2009

Just a year ago the Baltimore-based duo was squatting at an emotionally chilly latitude. Songs like "Gila", from the group's sophomore record Devotion, were driven onward only by the glacial ticking of a paper-thing drum machine and Victoria Legrand's smoky voice. Had David Lynch required a house band to play in "Twin Peaks"' Black Lodge, Beach House would have been a shoo-in.

But "Norway", the lead track from Teen Dream, the duo's Sub Pop debut, raises the temperature a few degrees. A percussive intro yields to an explosion of twinkling guitars and a chorus of woozy backing vocals. The core elements of Beach House's sound-- the drum machine, the thrift store keyboards-- are still present; they're just a few ticks faster. This makes a big difference. As it turns out, Beach House goes from dour to exuberant in just a few BPM.

Legrand, whose vocals have been saddled with Nico comparisons, can finally breathe a sigh of relief, too. The 1960s chanteuse's shadow is nowhere to be found here. "You let us in the wooden house/ To share in all the wealth," sings Legrand over a carsick slide guitar riff. No, "Norway" is radiant with the sunshiny 70s pop vibes. It's Stevie Nicks territory, for sure. Climate change has come to Beach House, and the weather suits them beautifully

MP3:> Beach House: "Norway"

[from Teen Dream, out 01/26/10 in the U.S. on Sub Pop and 01/25/10 in the UK on Bella Union; also from the "Norway" single, out 01/11/10 in the UK on Bella Union]

— Aaron Leitko, November 20, 2009
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