ScHoolboy Q. Habits & Contradictions LP

ScHoolboy Q Habits & Contradictions
2012, TDE

by Martin White

6.4 / 10

Habits & Contradictions is the second LP from Black Hippy member ScHoolboy Q.  Of course, Kendrick Lamar hit it big last year as a part of that outfit, and Q seems to be set to be the next to take off.  He's got a catchy flow and cadence and a knack for being able to adjust his voice to match the attitude of a given track.  And this thing absolutely has its share of great tracks and fantastic beats.  But the problem with Habits for me is that Q just gets so caught up his foibles, impulses, and fixations (most of which center around women) that it becomes difficult to get a real sense of his personality. 

Like a lot of hip-hop discs, this thing is pretty long.  There are a ton of tracks here and with that comes some filler.  Some of it doesn't really make much of an impression negatively or positively, but tracks like "Sexting" and "Sex Drive" and "NiggaHs.Already.Know..." feature hooks that are annoyingly repetitive.  Their monotony lulls me into a bizarrely numb state of unconsciousness for their duration that leaves me strangely confused when they end.  And then there's the fact that so many of these tracks are littered with references to Q's obvious obsessions and insecurities about "hoes" and "bitches."  He is often so hung up on getting laid that it just obscures any depth his rhymes might otherwise have had.  Unfortunately, there isn't a whole lot of actual content or meaning beneath the surface.  

The production on this thing is damn good, though.  It has those floating, ethereal atmospherics that formed LiveLoveA$AP.  These beats are not so shimmering and pretty, though.  Instead, they are grimy and seedy, living in the shadows and dark alleys.  "My Hatin' Joint" is one of the best tracks here, its beat perfectly matching the laid-back, chopped and screwed rhythm that A$AP Rocky mastered on his LP.  So it's no surprise that Rocky does appear here, on "Hands on the Wheel."  The track has one of the catchiest hooks on the entire record, but it is somewhat marred by Rocky's weak verse that just rehashes the topics ("purple drink" and a lot of dope) that he covered on his own mixtape.  

There are a handful of great tracks here, though, and that's what you have to take away from Habits & Contradictions.  It does create a textured, fleshed-out sound and it's hard not to respect the unique places that some of these beats pull from.  On "There He Go," Sounwave creates a subtly shifting beat by smoothly cutting up the most moody elements of Menomena's "Wet and Rusting," then layering on some crisp live boom-bap drums.  Q then kills it with one of his most charismatic flows.  And you have to respect a track like "Gangstas in Designer," which pulls a flute sample from 70's prog-rock (Genesis' "Firth of Fifth) to create a beat that sounds more like Dave Brubeck.  It's exciting and it's not obvious, unlike Kanye's slap-you-in-the-fast sampling of King Crimson's "21st Century Schizoid Man." 

Also not to be missed are "My Homie," "Grooveline Pt. 1" and  "Blessed" (featuring Kendrick Lamar).  All of these tracks also have the suspended, uneasy jazz beats that were all over Section.80, but "Blessed" clearly shows Q's promise.  He's got an indelible flow, and like Kendrick, he's got the ability to make you feel the urgency of his rhymes no matter what the content.  


Listen to "There He Go." 

Chairlift. Something LP

Chairlift Something

2012, Kanine Records

by Martin White

7.5 / 10

Perhaps adult alternative is the next thing for hipsters to attach to and exploit for its irony.  With Something, Chairlift may have beaten everyone to the punch, though.  Their new LP is filled with the kind of smooth pop that shouldn't be cool.  They create an immaculately clean aesthetic, just a little reminiscent of the sound that Steely Dan aimed for; their knack for simple hooks recalls the quirky catchiness of synth-pop veterans Junior Boys.  But Chairlift's sound is much warmer and more human, anchored by a deep, pulsing low end and expressive vocal performances from Caroline Polachek.  

Her impressive range allows her to shift and transform her voice to match the needs of each particular song.  Occasionally, Chairlift relies a bit too much on Polachek's ethereal vocal to make something out of a song like "Turning."  However, the new-wave / dream-pop of "I Belong in Your Arms" succeeds because of her precocious, earnest refrain.  However, Polachek and Patrick Wimberly do create some deceptively strong musical arrangements, always knowing just when to throw in some foreign instrumentation to the confident mix of bass, drums, and synthesizer.  Album highlight "Wrong Opinion" is propelled by its persistent post-punk bass, but the metallic, clattering percussion is what really separates the song from the rest.  It's a moment of revelation that takes a nice, moody piece of new wave and gives it a shock of suspense with a sound straight out of an eighties action-comedy soundtrack. The introduction of a lightly strummed acoustic guitar on "Frigid Spring" initially sounds out of place, but Polachek quickly makes her case as the female James Mercer as she delivers summery verses that are reminiscent of early Shins.  

The entirety of the first half of Something is pretty inscrutable, each of the first six tracks are brimming smart hooks and impressive songwriting.  On tracks like like "Sidewalk Safari" and  "Take it Out on Me," the funky, head-nodding beats are excellent vessels for sparkling synthesizer figures and Polachek's playful vocals.  But it's not all bubbly synth-pop; on "Ghost Tonight," the beat's underlying nineties R&B influence is revealed in full in the chorus' huge gymnastics chorus.  And the gauzy, moody, shadowy neo-soul of "Cool as a Fire" would not sound out of place alongside Sade's "No Ordinary Love;" it's a song that surely has more to do with adult contemporary than the current indie pop trends, but the influences are incorporated so neatly that you don't bother to stop and notice.  

Something is not without flaws, however, as the quality of the second side drops off substantially.  There is the awkward "Met Before," which matches somewhat tuneless verses with a far-too-effervescent refrain.  It's a song that sounds like it is just trying as hard as it can to be a single.  Unfortunately, you can't create a chorus out of nothing.  "Amanaemonesia" opens with a tumbling bassline, but the vocals never quite match up with the jittery rhythm before the song disjointedly drops into its cloying chorus.  The overarching focus of the record holds it together in the end, though.  There is a lot of variety here, but every song feels distinctly part of the world of sound that Chairlift has crafted.  A lot of that is thanks to Polachek's charisma, but also to the consistent rhythms and beats that worm their way into the back of your head. It's an intoxicating sound that sticks with me in a way that most indie pop does not.  

Howler. America Give Up LP

Howler America Give Up
2012, Rough Trade

by Michael Piske

7.6 / 10

At cruxes in our society’s history, we have needed a soundtrack for the times: records and songs providing crucial social commentary that cuts through the muddle and speaks directly to what people are thinking, feeling, and acting upon. Despite the title of Howler’s anticipated debut, this is not that kind of album.

And that is completely okay.

First, some other things that America Give Up is not: lyrically profound, especially original, musically expansive, or long in duration.

But again, this is just fine.

Howler, the brainchild of Jordan Gatesmith and his young Minneapolis pals, don’t try to achieve these lofty explorations. Instead, they have more fun in 32 minutes than you had in the last three weekends.

Upon first listen, one may take the easy way out, declaring that they’re just a Strokes/Television knock-off, plowing through fuzzy surf rock jams as Gatesmith tries hard to sound like he doesn’t give a shit, with lines like “I wish there was something I could do / ‘cause I hate myself more than I hate you” from “Told You Once”.

But when you let your guard down a bit, one realizes that Howler is just doing what they love - and having a blast while they’re at it. Their influences are obvious, but they pay them due respect. On the incredibly delectable “This One’s Different”, which feels as if it were picked up off the Is This It cutting room floor, dusted off, doused in PBR, and magnificently spit back out, Gatesmith sings “I said I could live without your touch / If I could die within your reach”.

For the most part, they push all the right classic garage/surf rock buttons at precisely the right moments. Opener “Beach Sluts” switches between sunny hand-claps and upbeat double time with squealing guitars. “Back Of Your Neck” has the ubiquitous “woo woo” vocal accompaniment to its signature guitar lick - oh, and a whammy-bar drenched guitar solo for good measure.

There is inconsistency and some repetition of course. The sonically wonderful fifth track “Too Much Blood”, a sunset-induced lazy jam that counts as the records only ballad, comes just as the listener is beginning to wonder if they have indeed listened to four separate tracks preceding it. “Pythagorean Fearum” gets way too ahead of itself, and the band members seem to struggle to keep up. The closer “Black Lagoon” feels more like when you’re wondering why your still up and everyone else is passed out, instead of the half-drunk walk to your car the next morning that the album should conclude with.

Not every good album needs to “mean something” or “make a statement” or “change you”. Not every sound has to be “ground-breaking”. Not every band needs to be “the next (insert artist here)”. America Give Up shows that as long as you’re having fun, who cares?

Craig Finn. Clear Heart, Full Eyes LP

Craig Finn Clear Heart, Full Eyes
2012, Vagrant Records

8.5 / 10

by Justin Bautista

Diet Cola. Light Beer. Decaf roast. Not exactly a Mississippi riverbank kind of party. But a de-imbibed and subjugated version of Craig Finn is pretty much what everyone expected from Clear Heart, Full Eyes. And the anticipation for the record had been mostly that—sobering.

Those most disappointed with the last Hold Steady output, 2010’s Heaven is Whenever, understandably questioned whether Finn’s creative flask was running dry, or if it had just plain evaporated. The sing-along songs were triumphant yet sparse, the felon beat-evangelists were hush and faithless, and the lovable underdog characters were non-existent, save our favorite "pretty good waitress."
With the lead singer’s solo effort, one should beware the absence of other Hold Steady staples: be it the fiery jolt of Tad Kubler’s guitar, the comforting buzz of Finn shouting rock novels into your ear, or the tavern-counter choruses that rupture vocal cords in bars and cars across America. But when standouts like “When No One’s Watching” and “New Friend Jesus” come on for the first time, the missing pieces become an afterthought. Our saucy, pseudo-melodic savior is putting doubters to rest.

Craig’s got some hypnotizing new parables to tell his thinking-man congregation. He replaces stories of hard drugs, murder, and sorority girls with songs of deceitful admiration, hopelessness, and — yes — love. We reunite with some old friends such as Gideon and Jesus Christ himself, and we’re introduced to some new buddies who all make a great first impression, such as the heartbreaking “Jackson” and the unstable Stephanie. Even ‘Maria’ makes a cameo—perhaps harkening to the same lover that tore up fellow sleeve-hearted frontmen Adam Duritz and Brian Fallon. 

Finn’s most hardcore apostles may find themselves touching upon a sensation that a Hold Steady album has never made them feel—that is, surprised. As we can immediately tell from the opener “Apollo Bay”, this backing band isn’t quite from the same part of the city. From the southern Whiskeytown twangville of “Terrified Eyes” and “Balcony”, to the gritty British pop grooves of “Honolulu Blues” and “No Future”, it sounds like they have flown in from everywhere. Fans may be divided on whether or not it works.

As exotic as they sound, the sugary refrains are just as sweet. But the unfamiliar violins and slide guitars take us on a different journey—one that must be musically liberating for Finn. So when you go see him on tour this winter, trade in your 40’s for something more forgiving. Don’t ever stop singing along, though. Perhaps through Craig’s newly inspired lyrics maybe you, too, can find out how a resurrection kind of feels.

Porcelain Raft. Strange Weekend LP. Two Takes

Porcelain Raft Strange Weekend
2012, Secretly Canadian, (photo courtesy Album of the Year)

8.1 / 10

by Brendan Athy

On the surface, Strange Weekend seemingly fits into the category of generic dream pop that has dominated the indie scene for the past three years or so. It is hard to sound fresh when the formula is simple: lots of loops (drums, synths, basslines), an ethereal atmosphere, and whispered, airy vocals about existential subjects. It is even harder when you will inevitably be grouped together with respected acts such as Beach House, Wild Beasts, and The Radio Dept.  In the midst of a genre that has become quite repetitive and derivative, Mauro Remiddi--the man behind the instrumentation, lyrics, and vocals of Porcelain Raft--has created a piece of music that seems formulaic on the surface but offers something unique when stripped to its core. 

But before we dive into what is special about Strange Weekend, let it be clear that on first listen, it will sound like every other dream pop act (just with more reverb) that gets a 6 – 7.5 score from Pitchfork, Consequence of Sound, or any other music critique site that (unintentionally) strives for pretentiousness. The hook for Strange Weekend, at its foundation, is a handful of extremely accessible songs that are catchy and mysteriously intriguing. The opening track, “Drifting In And Out,” which is reminiscent of the guitar riff from Memoryhouse’s “To The Lighthouse,” describes exactly the beauty of the record; you will drift in and out of this record. That may sound like a characteristic an artist would generally try to avoid but Remiddi seems to embrace it. 

There are the stand-out tracks that will be easy to pick out upon first listen: “Drifting In And Out” with its catchy acoustic guitar riff and introduction to Remiddi’s high pitched voice; “Put Me To Sleep” combines an infectiously jumping drum beat with some layered introspective lyrics about the perils of being drunk at a party while searching for a girl just to fall asleep with; and the highlight of the album, “Unless You Speak From Your Heart," its flawless production (earworm synths, shoegazing electric guitar riffs, blaring snare drums) and Remiddi's best vocal performance. If you’re like me, you will drag these songs into a playlist to listen to again and disregard the rest of the album.  However, that would be a major mistake as this record really shines on subsequent listens. 

“Shapeless & Gone” sounds like a song you’ve heard hundreds of times before but that is what works for it--familiarity. It has that quality that welcomes revisits to a song even though you’ve heard it a countless amount of times. “Backwords” comes off as a cheesy, epic ballad initially but upon another listen you notice how well it flows and, once again--as is true throughout the record--the production is stellar with layers and layers of sound. “Picture” is just a straight-up great indie pop song and doesn’t try to be anything more; it’s simple and that is refreshing on a record that has a good amount of “noise” on it. 

What is important about Strange Weekend is that it shows that the boundaries of dream and indie pop are still expanding. In this case, some of the experimentation present can be a pleasure, as is the slow breakbeat drums and glitches on “If You Have A Wish," but in others, not so much. “Is It Too Deep For You” has a synth lead that is comprised of about three notes (not the catchy “Niggas In Paris” kind) that is bland, repetitive, and annoying.  On"Is it Too Deep For You," the constant wailing is downright irritating. Overall though, the great moments shine much brighter than the lulls by quite a considerable margin. This is a special dream-pop record in a genre that is being plagued by mediocrity. 
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

5.7 / 10

by Martin White

Strange Weekend is a frustrating record because occasionally it is great, a sublime mixture of ethereally lush textures with a deep, deep sound, but too often it becomes mired in reverb-laden mediocrity.  When Porcelain Raft, aka Mauro Remiddi, allows a bit of clarity to come through, as on the chiming "Shapeless & Gone," he can really strike a nerve.  But there are simply too many moments where the sum of all of his loops, textures, miscellaneous sounds, and echoing vocals all add up to much less than the sum of their parts, and that's a bit unfortunate.

Porcelain Raft is at least efficient in its brevity, but after a handful of listens only a few of the ten tracks make much of a lasting impression.  Each of these songs follow a pretty typical formula.  A song is introduced with a rhythm or loop that forms its foundation, and that loop often remains the same for the entire song.  From there, more and more sounds and instruments are stacked on top, often with a thick layer of reverb.  Shimmering chimes, buzzing synthesizers, echoing drums, falsetto after falsetto, all playing at once.  

Remiddi crafts a lush, full sound with a nice range of highs and lows, but it is his trademark sound that ends up obscuring any potential for his songs to stand out.  Some songs lean a bit more toward the R&B-influenced territory occupied by Active Child, others incorporate a little bit of the by-the-numbers adult-alternative slowcore of The Antlers' Burst Apart, and there are even moments that give a nod to the amorphous soundscapes of chillwave.  In some cases ("If You Speak From the Heart"), all of this is combined with a generic message to top it all off.  

But all is not lost, and the album succeeds when it brings the acoustic guitars to the front.  A bit of relaxed strumming provides a crisp edge to the sonic territory of "Shapeless & Gone," "Picture," and "Backwords," where Porcelain Raft is most reminiscent of classic Galaxie 500.  And that's a very good thing.  If Remiddi continues to pull back the veil of reverb like this, he just might have something.  As it is, it's just another all-too-forgettable piece of shimmering dream-pop.  

Cloud Nothings. Attack on Memory LP. Two Takes

Cloud Nothings Attack on Memory
2012, Carpark, Stream on Soundcloud

by Justin Bautista

8.7 / 10

College dropout, hook fetishist, and lo-fi darling Dylan Baldi has seldom been a vessel for surprises. His songs have never had a knack for too many words, and remnants of teen hormones ooze out of his shrill pipes, emoting images of living rooms filled with skinny skaters sporting broken hearts, breaking things. The scenery doesn’t change in Attack on Memory. In fact, it’s a whole lot more bitter, and a whole lot better sounding. 


In “Forget You All the Time”, a standout from last year’s self-titled success, we see signs of crisis from a hope-laden teenager as he comes to terms with getting older. Bearing in mind the speaker sounds like he’s singing in a drugstore basement littered with confetti and NOS balloons, we have so much fun that we never really bother wondering if life turns out as peachy as he expects.


As we hear right away from the first track (“No Future No Past”), things aren’t going so well for our sparkly-eyed friend. He’s a little older, still not so wordy, and a whole lot more dirge-y. The uphill drums and spinning needlepoint screams set up a nice, not-so-subtle barebones outline for the rest of the record. That is, a resentful “fuck you” to yesterday, and a drab, sullen mourning of tomorrow. The second track isn’t bashful with its 9-minute rock-out that culminates with the most chilling line of the record: “I thought I would be more than this.” If you’re in your 20’s, starving, and nodding along in stop-and-go traffic, you might need to pick up the pace with the headbanging in order to fight back the tears.


Failing to betray Baldi’s usual pop-punk recipe, even the tastiest hooks have the most gut-wrenching one-liners. Whether you’re commiserating with the self-assuring loser anthem “Stay Useless”, or ruffling the feathers of regret singing “I miss you cause I like damage” to portraits of old lovers, it’s hard to be a futureless self-loathing romantic and not fall in love with Attack. After a couple of dates, you might even consider talking about something more serious and long-term. Besides, it’s never been hard to understand what Baldi’s saying about his feelings. He uses so few words. But this time, for once, you feel with him.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

by Martin White

7.8 / 10

When Cloud Nothings are at their best, Attack on Memory is razor-sharp, violent, and positively exhilarating.  The opening one-two of "No Future / No Past" and "Wasted Days" are immediate but decidedly deliberate.  The band exudes a confidence that allows them to sit back and let these tracks simmer, not unlike the way Slint achieved a similar aesthetic on Spiderland.  The opener builds ominously, stomping and plodding along repetitively, spiked with gut-shots delivered by Dylan Baldi's frayed vocal.  A very subtle quickening of the tempo over the first three quarters of the track is a smart touch that heightens the tension.  "Wasted Days" re-uses the pace shift over the instrumental section that makes up its second movement.  Fortunately, it just happens so slowly and naturally that you don't even realize they've done it again, and the head-rush of searing energy that accompanies the final minute of the track is one of the record's best moments.


Attack on Memory does stumble a bit in its distracted mid-section, which fails to capture the seething, captivating intensity of the record's opening.  "Fall In" and "Stay Useless" aren't necessarily bad songs but they do feel somewhat nondescript and derivative.  The former recalls mid-90's Green Day with its ragged pop-punk, revisiting a sound that was probably better left forgotten.  The latter, on the other hand, sounds straight off of Is This It as Baldi does his best Casablancas.  It's a nervy, catchy tune but it just falls flat a bit toward the end and certainly lacks originality.  


"No Sentiment" is the highlight of the back end, returning to the group's darker, more foreboding side with a song that brings the violence of Shellac and Big Black.  Noisy, feedback-ridden guitars battle for territory and it is impossible not to stop and admire the awesome tone of those towering, heavy riffs.  They hold serious weight, ringing out above the rest and also helping to hold down the low end.  


"I miss you 'cause I like damage / I need something I can't have" Baldi repeats on the coda to closer "Cut You."  It's a direct, unpretentious statement that reflects the conciseness of the LP; a fitting parting shot and one of the album's best lines.  I am left wanting more of the slow-burning tracks like "No Sentiment" and "No Future / No Past" and "Wasted Days," but the record does succeed because it rejects indulgence; it gets to the damn point and doesn't linger on it for too long.  

M83. Hurry Up, We're Dreaming LP

M83 Hurry Up, We're Dreaming

2011, Mute

by Michael Piske

There is something commendable about just plain going for it, balls-to-the-wall, with no regard for outside perception. It’s also one of the most frightening things to do for most people, but not for Anthony Gonzalez and the rest of M83.

On Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming, M83 reach for a grandiosity that is rarely seen, and is often scoffed at when attempted. Being a “double album” already puts it in a category that garners smirks and skepticism. Throw in a loose concept of revering childhood innocence; dreams versus reality. It is rife with crescendos, climaxes, strings, 80’s electronic drums, synths galore, breathy vocals, spoken word bridges, and some of the catchiest hooks in recent memory. Oh, and of course several instrumental interludes.

If an effort like this were undertaken with even the slightest reservation, it would fall flat from the get-go. But fortunately for the listener, Gonzalez and co. exhibit unbridled joy and brash exuberance on every note - making it all work.

The record begins with possibly the best opening two songs of 2011 in “Intro (f/Zola Jesus)” and “Midnight City”. It becomes clear that Gonzalez is going all-out very quickly, incorporating a whispered intro-within-“Intro” which sets the tone for the loose concept of dreaming which comes through at various points in the record. The chorus synth line from “Midnight City” is of the ilk that gets lodged in your head for days and you’re extremely happy about it.

As with almost all double albums, some would say that Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming would benefit from being scaled back to one disc, throwing out the dreamy symphonic interludes and focusing solely on pop masterpieces like “Claudia Lewis”, “New Map”, “OK Pal”, and “Steve McQueen”. Along with the tandem that opens the record these are my favorite tracks, but the beauty of M83’s ambition is in the ebb and flow of the album as a whole. Scaling it back would do these standouts an injustice.

As far as the concept of dreaming, it is scattered throughout the record, embedded both in Gonzalez’s lyrics as well as in almost every melody. As a child, you are constantly dreaming; the discovery of imagination, the furious exhilaration of learning, the realization that a refrigerator’s box can be transformed into a spaceship. As an adult, dreams become something entirely different. They are either “oh my god I had the weirdest dream last night” or unrealistic fantasies that you will never accomplish because real life is destined to get in the way.

But over a sprawling, epic, and truly joyful 72 minutes, M83 transports the listener back to a childhood where all of your dreams were scattered across the carpet, able to be picked up and played with, without a wisp of uncertainty.

Fleet Foxes. Helplessness Blues LP

Fleet Foxes Helplessness Blues
2011, Sub Pop

Helplessness Blues was one of the most anticipated and critically acclaimed records of 2011, and it certainly is impressive.  The songs are composed of gorgeously rendered tapestries of Americana, musically and lyrically brimming with richly colored imagery.  Yet what is most admirable about this record is its unexpected maturity and Robin Pecknold's uncommonly thoughtful writing, especially for a 25-year old.  


Helplessness Blues unfolds and carries a well-rendered narrative from beginning to end, though some of the individual tracks here are less distinct than those found on Fleet Foxes.  After listening to this record dozens of times, I would still be somewhat hard-pressed to remember quite how "Sim Sala Bim" or "Lorelai" or "Bedouin Dress" sound exactly.  I wouldn't necessarily say that a handful of things songs are filler, but a few aren't particularly memorable.  


Still, this is one of 2011's best-recorded LP's, and the sounds here are pretty impeccable.  The depth of the soundstage on "Montezuma" makes you feel as if the song is being performed right in front of you.  It sounds like Robin is singing while he sits in the chair next to you, while the rest of the group sings the back-up harmonies outside the window.  And then those warbling electric guitar bathes the song in a comforting, warm haze.  The wide range of instruments are recorded and mixed so perfectly that I'm left with the feeling that more instrumental segments and further dialing back of the harmonies would be appreciated.  


However, there are some commendable exercises in restraint here.  The band rarely goes for the easy emotional peak with melodramatic string arrangements, and the record as a whole is less reliant on the prettiness of the harmonized vocal set pieces.  Instead, Helplessness Blues favors hushed, subtler routes that focus the listener's attention simply because there are many moments of uncommon quiet.  "Someone You'd Admire" and "Blue Spotted Tail" rely chiefly on the combination of Pecknold and an acoustic guitar, while "The Plains / Bitter Dancer" never gets terribly loud, but still shows off some brilliant dynamics.  The song slowly approaches behind a mesmerizing two-bar melody; as soon as it finally comes fully into view it nearly disappears, leaving behind a single acoustic guitar.  This is a complex song but it doesn't feel like it; the easy-going tempo and sighing vocal and flute melodies give the song an accepting tranquility.  It truly is one of the masterpieces of the record, a simple song that seems to be about the inevitable arrival of death, a fact of nature "just as the sand made everything round" and "the tar seeps up from the ground."  


It's Pecknold's writing that takes this album places.  He has a new-found awareness of the world around around him and while there are still times when the flowery imagery is perhaps a bit much, there is a lot beneath the surface here.  Pecknold's songwriting has always looked at the world with a great amount of wonder, but here he takes time ponder its inner-workings and his place in it.  "So now I am older / Than my mother and father / When they had their daughter / Now what does that say about me?" he wonders in the opener, while in "Lorelai" he quite bluntly states "So, guess I got old / I was like trash on the sidewalk."  It's something many of us in our twenties finally realize: we will eventually get older and weaker and more useless.  Helplessness Blues pauses to ask why the world works the way it does and wonders what part we play in it.  But it also realizes that those questions don't often have clear answers. 

The Boats. Ballads of the Research Department LP

    cover art courtesy 12k

The Boats Ballads of the Research Department
2012, 12k

by Will F.

8.6 / 10

Experimental music offers little in its description to tell you what sort of sounds you are about to experience. Most people scurry away at the thought of ‘experimental’ as it conjures up an avant-garde bassoonist playing in 12/7 time over a tape recording of a blender. The Boats, however, offer something entirely refreshing and new to the concept of experimental music.


The duo, composed of Andrew Hargreaves and Craig Tattersall, focuses on pushing the boundaries of music through unexpected instrumentation, arrays of string sections and intense nocturnal timbres. In recording the album, the duo sought to explore and distort the traditional sense of a ballad, expressing (from 12k):


“We wanted to present the ballad in a new form employing sounds as well as words to tell our stories. These stories are not as lyrical as the ballad form of the past and are open to the listener’s interpretation. They are investigations into the uncertainty of our time, love, woe and hope.”


Such investigations of uncertainly are beautifully expressed on the opening track “The Ballad For Achievement,” opening with a warm drone cascading slowly into an Eno-esque piano-sprinkled melody. The excellence of the opening track is found within its slow layering of strings, wind-chimes, drums, and upright-bass. “The Ballad Of Failure” is drenched in emotive guitar reverb and dreamy vocals, creating a hybrid of ambient and shoegaze. Continuing their unhindered exploration of love, woe, and hope, “The Ballad For The Girl On The Moon” highlights the duo’s careful balance of unexpected turns. The cathartic string ballad transitions swiftly from a more classical violin solo into a modern showcase of departure, loss, and depression--all while brilliantly carrying the motifs of the preceding melody.


The highlight of the album is easily the closing ballad, “The Ballad of Indifference.” Showcasing The Boats' refreshing musical experimentation, the ballad combines Burial aesthetics with a cascading symphony of haunting, nocturnal, and excessively engrossing vocals performed by Japanese vocalist Cuushe. As if slowly moving down a deep river with only moonlight to guide your path, the last ballad gracefully bends and turns, trickles down your back and illuminates the dark shadows hiding in the corners. The resulting product is a gorgeous ballad, the likes of which I’ve never experienced.


Few albums explore the depth of human love, loss, and conscious reality as thoroughly as the Ballads of the Research Department--all while pushing the boundaries of genres and redefining expectations. Like a fine red wine, or wading through a surreal, never-ending dream, this album is more of an experience than an actual album. It is drenched in modesty, patience, and sincerity. This is an album I can listen to repeatedly without hesitation and be floored by its beauty on every listen.


Stream Ballads of the Research Department here, buy the CD from 12k's website.

Girls

2009, 2010, and 2011 were very busy years for Christopher Owens and J.R. White.  They recorded 2 LP's and an EP/LP tweener, released one of the biggest hipster anthems of 2008 in "Lust for Life," and have seen themselves make a meteoric rise from complete unknowns to indie rock heavy hitters.  So it probably would not be terribly surprising if Owens and White (and the rest of whoever is playing in their band at a given time) don't release a new record in 2012.  Owens has said that he'd like to do a country album, write songs for Beyonce, and he does have a backlog of dozens of unrecorded tunes.  That said, with the band's seemingly quite heavy touring schedule, the usual rate at which bands release new albums, and Owens' on-again-off-again drug habits, it seems unlikely to expect any new albums from the band this year.  If that's the case, my 2012 will be just a little bit less interesting, so I'm going to take this column to go through some of the more notable moments in the band's discography so far. 

Album

The group's bizarrely titled debut LP, Album, must be one of the most uniquely idiosyncratic debut albums of the past decade.  Listening to the record is like looking through a dirty, broken kaleidoscope.  The songs are all over the map, from 50's doo-wop to howling garage burners where the Owens' self-proclaimed Ariel Pink influence comes through.  There is also a schizophrenic quality to his characters as he employs wildly different voices throughout the record, from the nasally "Lust for Life" to the demented Roy Orbison-wannabe on "Headache."  Album is also the most unique of their three records, simply because the other two were recorded in legitimate studios with significantly higher fidelity equipment.  Album, instead, sounds tinny, noisy, and harsh; it rattles, wobbles, and shakes.  It's not altogether much different than that beat-up first car you probably bought when you were sixteen.  

     

Still, the hallmarks of Owens' songwriting are all here and his personality has certainly remained unchanged since these recordings.  There is the hopeless romantic and the more-than-occasional drug user, and often these two elements of his personality are wrapped up into one, when he sings "I might never get my arms around you... / Oh Lauren Marie / You might never want me but that doesn't mean you won't get me high."   His writing is straightforward and occasionally a bit hackneyed, but Owens sings with so much earnestness that he never quite sounds trite.  He doesn't care if it has been said before; he doesn't consider that and he certainly doesn't give a second thought to the idea that his words may come across as naive; he's just expressing himself as best he can.  

Not everything works perfectly, as one might expect from an album recorded and stitched together like this.  A few songs feel unnecessary and inconsequential: "God Damned" just sounds quirky for the sake of being quirky while the duo of slow songs, "Headache" and "Lauren Marie," keep the second side from living up to the excellent first.  Still, the album ends with the nice pair of "Curls" and "Darling."  The former is the only instrumental recording while the latter is one of the group's best yet most overlooked tunes.  The drum sound feels so live, like you're standing right next to the kit, it's just brilliant.  And it is tough not to smile when Owens sings about how he "was feeling so sad and alone but I found a friend in the song that I'm singing."  

Broken Dreams Club


The cleaned up, expanded sound of the group's second record is a striking departure from the claustrophobic Album.  Opener "The Oh So Protective One" features a horn section, organ accents, and even a trumpet solo, something unimaginable on the previous record.  The song absolutely proves to be one of the more divisive moments in the group's discography (though it's not exactly "Like a Rolling Stone"), as many who loved the scattershot, abrasiveness of Girls' previous work found this to be a safe and boring appeal to the masses.  Of course there were others who found this change in sound to be a pleasant improvement in maturity and focus.  The truth of it probably lies somewhere in the middle, but this song is not one of the group's best.

     

"Heartbreaker," however, is one of the quintessential Christopher Owens tunes.  It has that crisp, hooky chorus ("And when I said I loved you honey / I knew that you would break my heart") that isn't exactly original, but it's still affecting.  However, the lilting, poignant verses are some of the best that he's ever written.  "When I look in the mirror I'm not as young as I used to be / I'm not quite as beautiful as when you were next to me."  It's timeless, romantic songwriting and something that you might hear on the radio.  But coming from Owens, it doesn't sound like calculated, manufactured melodrama.  

Father, Son, Holy Ghost


Father, Son, Holy Ghost is thus far the clearest representation of Owens' vision to create classic pop music.  His writing is as direct as ever and the music culls from the past five decades of pop, soul, and rock and roll.  "Die" starts out as an early Sabbath jam that drops in a verse that sounds like it came straight out of Daydream Nation.  And when that verse ends, it's right back into the monolithic guitar riffs.  It's a truly unexpected and inspired moment that makes the song.  Who would have known that could possibly work?  Yet it also joyfully recalls some of the more raucous moments of Album like "Morning Light" and "Big Bad Mean Motherfucker."  


"Alex," on the other hand, sounds more composed and relaxed than just about anything Girls has recorded.  It's a classic indie rock slacker jam, written with that who-gives-a-shit attitude.  But Owens only thinly veils his true feelings. "Alex has blue eyes, well who cares, no I don't."  Of course he does care, and he admits as much later when the story progresses: "Alex has a boyfriend, oh well, I'm in hell."  So straight to the point that it's scary.  The same goes for "My Ma," which competes with "Substance" for the title of Girls' most depressing recording.  Then there is "Saying I Love You's" carefree bounce that disguises the sentiment that lies at the end of its chorus. "How can I say I love you? / ...Now that you've said everything I said to you, to somebody new."  It starts out as a corny refrain that we've all heard dozens of times before, but it twists the knife in at the end.  

     

The thing that makes Christopher Owens somewhat of an enigma is that you can't quite tell whether he's being tongue-in-cheek, or whether that's just the way he was feeling when he wrote the song.  And it's also what makes him such a fascinating character.  He says the things that most of us feel but are too afraid to admit.   

Witches. Forever LP

Witches Forever
2011, Bakery Outlet Records


You know those unknown artists you don't think are going to impress you and then you listen to their record and it's just so good that you feel like it's your duty to tell all your friends because it's absolutely criminal that the band doesn't have more fans or fame or notoriety?  That's what Witches is for me.


Witches are a 3-piece group from Athens, GA led by Cara Beth Satalino's raw, jangling guitars and cutting vocals.  There are also drums and bass.  That's it, and it's a big part of what is appealing about Forever.  There are no gimmicks here, just ten songs played as if the band dropped into the studio, played for half an hour, then promptly left.  The results are live and loose, yet with a focused intent and clarity.  Not one song exceeds five minutes and most hover around three.  The sound is lean and tough; nervously jagged guitars buzz and jangle about the soundstage but the sharp, clearly-rendered basslines hold equal importance.  


So the band sounds great, but that wouldn't be worth much if the songs weren't this good and this catchy.  There are slacker anthems and ("Disappointment") and songs that feel like off-the-cuff throwaways ("Grey"), except they aren't insignificant or slight.  Then you get a song like "Feed, "which" begins with Cara Beth Satalino singing and playing alone, almost sounding like a coffee shop singer-songwriter.  But the song veers off in a different direction when the rest of band suddenly drops in, drums clattering and bass rhythmically pushing the pace of the song.  It's that post-punk aesthetic delivered by the bass that really elevates Forever above a lot of the precious, pretentious indie rock out there.  Unfortunately, the drums are the weak link here; they don't match the insistence of the bass and can occasionally feel a bit plodding.


Satalino's lyricism effectively reflects the band's direct, straight-to-the-point playing.  There is something vaguely familiar-and somewhat comforting-about CBS's sinuous, languid vocals.  She sings with confidence, but her lyrics are often colored with a gently sardonic view of life, as when she opens "Never Sez Why" with the line "Till up the soil, pull up the plot / Turn your backyard, into a parking lot."  Her words are spoken plainly and conversationally but most importantly they don't feel contrived.  They are humorous and self-deprecating and they cut straight to the bone, occasionally all at the same time in the case of "Disappointment:" "You twist the knife, I just wanted to talk to you."


It's a great sounding record with really strong songs, and it's one of my personal favorites from the past year.  You can pick up the LP for 9 bucks from Bakery Outlet Records.