Down to 60. Tough stuff. Couple of notes:

First, I forgot how damn good this Feist record is. I mean, it's kind of gotten tons of rubbernecking bloggers backlashing the crap out of it. Be aware -- to discount a record because it's available in Starbucks and in an iPod commercial makes no sense. She's got a beautiful voice, writes great songs and has created a great sense of space in her songs. In no way is this record pedestrian.

Second, the Klaxons. For a bunch of young Brit kids riding a mountain of hype, they put together a pretty great little rock record. Yeah, it's got missteps that any underdeveloped young band might have, but "Golden Skans", "Gravity's Rainbow" and "Atlantis to Interzone" still sound good half a year or so later and hit on a fun wordy and jumpy rock sound. (Not on the list anymore.)

Third, Enon's Grass Geysers...Carbon Clouds is pretty excellent. I missed this band the last couple of years. John Schmersal is a fantastic songwriter. They've stripped all the fancy yet inconsequential electronics focusing on their core guitar-bass-drums line up. Suits them very well. Also good to see that even though they're getting older they still pick up steam and jitter like hottwired teens.

Finally, No Age. Yes, really great.

So, I've whittled the who-gives-a-shit best album list down to 76. I'm trying to get into the 20 range, but that's some tough stuff. I've already eliminated Freeway, Sloan, Jesu and Pig Destroyer -- all who had some great records this year worth your attention. Not sure why I'm even concerned about this though as there's already been 20+ that I've seen for '07 and every one of them has Arcade Fire, Radiohead and/or LCD in the top spot. Whatever. Hopefully it might be entertaining or worth something when it pops up in this space.

Also, some news to come about more frequent writing. Stay tuned...

Prism of Eternal Now

From a post on Wikipedia referencing Adam Forkner's new White Rainbow album, Prism of Eternal Now:

Prism Of Eternal Now is the most recent album by ambient/soundscape artist White Rainbow. Unlike Sky Drips Drifts, this album is not one continuous track, but rather a collection of shorter works that show the more recent loop-based phase of White Rainbow's music. Also, unlike ZOME, the album has no title tracks, extended songs, or words for vocals. The back cover of the disc is not unlike the label of Dr. Bronner's Peppermint soap, inasmuch as it is an almost solid block of text on a pink background (or a white block for some variation). A picture of Adam Forkner appears on the back, tucked away in the bottom right hand corner, which again marks a difference from other albums where Forkner's face never appeared. The text itself is all about the supposed healing powers of the music contained on the disc, and includes instructions on how to use the album as a method of self-healing, the benefits of Prism Of Eternal Now, and exhorts the buyer to not rip it into mp3 due to reduced bitrate. A block of text identifies the gear list (":::::ONLY THE FINEST GRADE:::::"), which includes phasers, guitars, delays, synthesizers, breath, jug, tabla, and a mysterious "etc". Another block has the track listing, and the third block of white has an explanation of the album title and "vibrational energy" contained therein.

Whoever wrote the above paragraph takes this album way too seriously, or found the perfect excuse to wave his dick around.

Gotta love the internet.

We Are Floating In Space...

Ladies and gentlemen, I've been trying to decide where to take this whole backlog and move it into the future (like Steve Miller?). Seems a little unsure at the time. I have time, if I choose to use it: just can't seem to figure what to write about and whether that opinion/criticism is worth adding to the constant babble of the internet. After all, it's hard to disagree with Jess Harvell's points -- am I adding to discourse or just making noise by hitting the repeat button? But maybe we can make this worthwhile after all. For a dude that loves black metal so much, John Darnielle sure is an optimist.

And, for the record, I kind of like "I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance", in the same way that I liked Yellow Pills -- a record by perfunctory young adults overwhelmed by the need to make disposable, time-capsuled pop music. (I haven't heard the rest, and am apathetic about it to be honest.)

Also: know what's funny? I don't think anyone remembers In Rainbows and that shit was 3 weeks ago.

Foos

I know it's not very indie of me, but the breakdown + exploding background makes the hair stand up on my arms. This song kicks ass.

Foo Fighters - The Pretender (Video Premiere)
Uploaded by Alisvideo

My new best friend...

Just got a pair of these Sennheiser HD 595 cans above. Gotta say, I thought that money headphones were BS and all the things I was reading were all viral marketing. Not so. I can't speak for the other 5000 competitors to these (I'm sure some are better, whatever), but it's literally like someone wiped a layer of grime off of all my music. It's pretty hard to listen to Zep right now and not want to raise a lighter hearing Jimmy Page picking like a madman and every sweetly recorded Bonzo snare and tom.

"Great For College Campuses and Abroad"

I'm having a bit of trouble getting back into this. Every post I start begins "ever since I was young" or some goofball generalization. Sorry. Quality control - at least for the first couple since my last one.

See you soon?

Yeah, it's been a while. Soon I'll be back with something more, but I'm alive.

In the meantime, UGK's new one, Kanye's new one, and Scarface's old one are all amazing. And that's just recent hip-hop discoveries.

G: Goo, by Sonic Youth

Seventh grade for most people is super-awkward. I was no different. While it’s tough to remember perfectly, I do recall it junior high to be a greatly uncomfortable time. And yeah, looking back on it, I was a huge herb. Sixth was cool: I wasn’t sexually aware yet, They Might Be Giants were my favorite band, I had my little brother do somersaults for my “Bring Your Pet to School Day”.

But seventh sticks out. Girls started getting boobs, voices started cracking, unwilling things started happening downstairs. (Sample thought: “Please Mrs. Hall, don’t don’t DON’T call on me to come to the board. Damn my pants are tight.”) Adding insult to injury, one of our gym teachers made a group of us come up with a choreographed dance to a song of our choice. Seriously. You imagine what that can do to a little guy’s self-esteem when he has to get in front of a group of his peers (read: girls) and dance. At the time, I was way into Nirvana and some of the bands that Kurt liked, including Sonic Youth. My friend Kenny started me and my buddies on them and Goo was pretty cool to me with its terrifying feedback squalls and occasional hot-chick vocals. Long story short, Kenny, my future high school bandmate Layton, and I did the hand jive (no shit) to “Mary-Christ”. It’s the first thing I think about every time I hear Goo, something so ingrained and irrepressible, no matter what I could have hoped to do. I just picture myself red-faced with the song blasting over the shitty gymnasium speakers adding another layer of weird grime due to the echo and a crusty tape dub. (I should note that I stopped listening to Goo until senior year in high-school out of sheer embarrassment every time I heard it. Yeah, I’m a wimp, I know.)

Listening back now, it’s not all that hard to see why an inexperienced, Nirvana-loving teenager would like a band like Sonic Youth, particularly Dirty and Goo’s version. The songs here are skewed pop, angry enough to communicate on that level, groovy enough to make the listener feel cool and arranged in a way that made the kid dreamer think this type of thing might be possible even with his untalented self. The songs can be punky (“Titanium Expose”), aggressive (the second half of “Dirty Boots”) and definitely hip (“Kool Thing”), all things that angst-y suburbanites want in music as a replacement for their dull, monotone lives. I guess being honest, it’s kind of what I still want from music every once and a while.

On a grander scale, while it never hit the wide range audience that it was supposed to, SY’s Goo still stands tall as an accessible moment in a sometimes impenetrable and difficult discography. Goo is something of a leaping point for getting into high art-rock and the avant-garde due to its feedback swirls and hardscrabble noise elements tempered by grunge-era melody. And if it isn’t for you, well – just play it for your pimply 13-year old cousin with the Staind t-shirt. Maybe they’ll understand.

F: From Here We Go Sublime, by The Field

From the first icy cool bass drum and oxygen deprived vocal snippet that graces From Here We Go Sublime, it’s clear that minimalism is at play here. I’m going to take that a step further and be honest: minimalism in house, (tech-house, whatever) in and of itself, is flat out boring. Electronic dance music was made for ecstatic moments. So when close to the 2:00 mark during this record, a weird vocal breakdown plus wave-em-like-you-just-don’t-care synth starts pumping, it’s damn near perfect. You have the backbone of minimal house, with its well sculpted drums and the flamboyance of regular old dance music in all its neon glory.

The Field is one Axel Willner, a man I wouldn’t know from any other at your local American Apparel store (serious, look up at that dude’s picture), but it’s obvious he’s cribbed some notes from melancholy pop music over the last 40 or so years. Not in a while have I heard a vocal-less album that’s so lyrical. If fact, the repetition of the tracks prove to be the best thing going, pushing (not pounding) the sunwashed melodies into your head. There’s one influence in My Bloody Valentine that has only been nodded at in his composition, not blatantly ripped off like so many other guitar-based bands. The Field does Sheilds and co. justice by convoluting comforting melody in unique and off-kilter ways forcing you to pay attention yet still find it familiar.

Between Willner and Gui Borrato’s Chromophobia minimal house producers are finally realizing that tech-house doesn’t have to undermine melody, structure and composition and relegate itself to the background of the lounge part of some megaclub. To paraphrase Brian Eno, this has the potential to be background music, but you’ll find yourself unable to not pay attention. And if you still aren’t, there’s no way that during the ear-splitting moment halfway into “The Deal” you won’t start shaking your legs and nodding your head crazy like. Shit, the first time I listened to this I think confetti exploded out of my ears.

...

Yeah, I've been gone for a few days/weeks. Been busy: ran a 10-mile race, had a fiancee finish year 2 of law school, been in and out of NYC twice in the last two days. But yeah, I promise that I'm making an effort to write more, even with an irregular schedule. See you soon.

E: "Everybody Thinks I'm A Raincloud (When I'm Not Around)"

Kicking off their last album, Guided By Voices have pretty much everyone’s highest expectations to live up to. It’s fitting then that it’s one of those perfect, mid-fi Bob Pollard tunes that doesn’t smack you in the face, but slowly, deliberately makes you reach for and raise your lighter. Everything’s intact here: jangly guitars, Who worship, well enunciated lyrics, that slight yet fake British lilt, and a handful of powerchords. If there was a more perfect band for raising your glass to the erasing of bad memories, being awesome for one night only, and power of rock and roll I don’t know them. It doesn’t matter that Bobby and co. made this song about (literally) 3,000 times. It just matters that this at this particular moment GBV proved rock music could be perfected.

D: The Dismemberment Plan, Live at the Black Cat, April 27, 2007

Coming up on the start of the show, there was a peculiar calm over the Black Cat that I’m unfamiliar with. Most concerts I’ve seen where there’s a high level of anticipation, it’s like the roof on the venue is about to blow off. People can barely contain themselves, sporadic shouts pepper the atmosphere. Last Friday, the Black Cat was seriously tame compared to, shoot, the Lightning Bolt show I saw on Wednesday of that week. It could be any number of things, but my money’s on an overall sense of disbelief. We haven’t seen this band in (we’ll be generous) five years. Holy shit! After J. Robbins’ gracious speech and explanation for the (unfortunate) reason that we were really all there, they stalked out, all kinda doing the coy smiling thing. Holy shit! And just like old times: “Hi we’re the Dismemberment Plan from Washington D.C.”

Without sounding like a day had gone by since their last show, they struck right off into Emergency & I’s palate-cleanser “A Life of Possibilities”. No one forgot the words. Just like old times, some people were jumping around, some people were emo-ed out, crying every word, some people were standing with arms folded taking it in, and some were just grinning ear to ear. I couldn’t help being all of those, probably all in the course of one song, multiple times throughout the night. I felt like a teenager again: they were again saying everything that I wanted to say but way better and more loquaciously.

The Plan hit pretty much everything that a fan would expect -- “Doing the Standing Still”, “What Do You Want Me to Say?”, “OK Joke’s Over” (with Beyonce interlude, yeah!), “You Are Invited”, “Following Through”, “Gyroscope”, “The Dismemberment Plan Gets Rich” – and some of what you wouldn’t – “Girl O’Clock” (a personal favorite), “Ellen and Ben”, “Rusty”. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I (very) slightly disappointed, like I had seen it better. And I had -- the first time. I had never seen a band that unique before and I was awestruck, soaked from too much dancing, and ecstatic. Friday’s concert was my 7^th time, I’ve grown up a little, and I’d moved on to different things. That’s not to say that it wasn’t good, I was just pining for those first couple of times when it was just so insane that I could barely contain myself.

Still – virtually every song was met with fans shouting every word, there was an erotic cake, there were the requisite d-bags yelling for songs no one likes including them (but they’re on the first album, bro). It was a riot. After their set, which seemed to fly by too quickly, they came back for the encore playing “Sentimental Man” and their best song ever ever ever “The City”. I sat there swaying, happy as shit thinking, after all, the night was perfect. Ready to turn around and leave, they stuck around for one more song, “Onward, Fat Girl!”. It summed up the night for me: a set that sent me on a course headed for starry-eyed nostalgia, only to right me right at the end and slap me in the face to say that, yeah, things end. Particularly not the way you expect or maybe even want them to.

Back soon...

Yeah, been missing lately, but for good reason. Been seeing a ton of shows, some more are on the way. Saw Spoon last Sunday, Lightning Bolt yesterday, going to see the Dismemberment Plan reunion tomorrow and LCD Soundsystem in a couple of weeks. Once I'm back, "D" will be devoted to the D-Plan. Cheers!

Videos...

I was thinking about doing "D" on the Drones, and I still might, but here's some videos in case I don't. This band kills.

"Sharkfin Blues" solo:

"Jezebel" video:

C: Cryptograms by Deerhunter

For a band that’s come from a perennially uncool city (Atlanta), these mothers have been drudging up some pretty heavy hype. Rightfully so, one tends to cast a shifty eyeball on any art that comes out of nowhere to near unanimous praise. It seems unfounded, unwarranted, unearned. But backlash for backlash’s sake is shit (see the smart review of the new Klaxons album on Pitchfork, which isn’t all that bad): it’s just lazy, let’s make an argument by taking the opposing view journalism.

Regardless, by reflex, I tend to get disinterested when the hype machine starts steamrolling. Still, my brother recommended I check them out as someone that I’d like. (By the way, he and his friends at 16 have way more advanced musical tastes than I ever knew existed at that age. I thought Fat Wreck Chords was as underground as it got.) So I did. And he was right.

Starting off with swirling psychedelic guitars submerged in delay pings and synthetic effects, I’m never sure where the hell things are going to end up. And it’s the inherent fun in Cryptograms: you’re thrown into the melee, occasionally allowed up for air, or floating in an ambient dust cloud. The stationary instrumentals, which at times sound like label-mates Windy & Carl, intermingle with 1,000-yard stare post-punk that reads from the Sonic Youth book, but draws its own conclusions. Yet while those two groups couldn’t sound more different next to one another in form or principal, Deerhunter manage to straddle a very large divide and deliver quite impressive results everywhere.

The title track, “Lake Somerset”, and “Octet” represent more of the college radio friendly fare (and indicative of Deerhunter’s “traditional” songwriting chops?) from the first half of the album, those representing the aforementioned delirious no-wave and noise rock. Their trance inducing minimalism-is-maximalism is flooring, similar to the way Spacemen 3 were able to wring out tons of weight from simple chord progressions and repetition. That first half is rumored (we don’t fact check here, asshole) to be recorded about 2 months prior to the second. The second half, starting with “Spring Hall Convert”, arrives with magnificent Technicolor harmony, subverting the minor-key My Bloody Valentine half for more candy coated noise pop that swells and swells until it reaches the breaking, but unfortunate stopping point. Once you hit “Heatherwood” it almost seems like you’re listening to a completely different band or album, but one that, looking hard enough, comes full circle.

Weirdly, on track 9 of 12 of the distant Cryptograms the singing finally comes into plain focus on “Strange Lights”. Frontman Brandon Cox sweetly coos that “Walking’s half the fun”. It couldn’t be more appropriate: Deerhunter’s a band that emphasizes the absolute joy of tension-building and repetition. The process is always better than the payout.

B: Bonham, John Henry

I read somewhere that everyone goes through their Led Zeppelin phase, no matter how old or for how long. To paraphrase the text I’m not going to be able to reference or describe eloquently, you could be a 15-year old awkward teen or a 30-year old stockbroker, but Zep takes hold and it’s all you want to hear. Like, nothing sounds better than “Black Dog” or that incredibly massive riff in “Moby Dick” and all it makes you wanna do is drink beer or sit on the hoods of Thunderbirds. It’s definitely happened to me, and tends to happen at least once a year. I was a late bloomer, not really digging them until my summer before Freshman and Sophomore years at college when I felt obliged to pick up Led Zeppelin I sensing that the emo well was kind of drying up.

Well.

From the first moment of “Good Times, Bad Times” it’s fairly obvious who’s in charge here. Yeah, there’s a great guitar line, but it’s one of the dime a dozen blues based riff that are pretty interchangeable in the Zep catalogue, so it’s not Jimmy Page. Plant can wail, but not here, he’s pretty reserved. Obviously it’s not John Paul Jones – guy plays bass and this ain’t Primus. It that crazy sonovabitch John Bonham and his maniacal right foot. He makes this group absolutely explode with drive. He punctuates bars with the perfect thundering fills and literally sounds like an octopus at times. (In trying to figure out what I was gonna write for this I listened to their live version of “Moby Dick” where Bonham solos for what seems like 3 hours. I’m surprised that dude’s arms are still on after that tour de force.)

I’m a guitar player, but I’ve always been way more drawn to the sounds of drums. Nothing’s better when a band has someone that can kick the shit out of their kit. But nothing’s better than if that same virtuosic drummer can fit in the pocket and give a song its pulse all while fleshing out and coloring a song with their skill. It’s obvious why Led Zeppelin split after Bonham died – they lost the guy the foundation of the group.

Check out:

I was gonna do "B" tonight and write about Black Flag, but it's pretty painfully obvious that I don't need to add much to the discussion. What I do know: this picture rules.

Hope to see you tomorrow with something.

A: Amon Duul

A: Amon Duul

Krautrock is as good as people say it is. It served a great purpose in the development of music: a simple, motorik beat repeats ad nauseum while minimalist melody unfolds over top, for often a 10+ minute duration of the songs. And apart from that, some of this stuff was just plain great – just try to not love Can’s “Oh Yeah” at about the half-way point. Without krautrock, most electronic music wouldn’t exist and, for that alone, respect is due. Yeah, sometimes the ideas formed didn’t seem to go anywhere. (Example: you can fault Can on some the second half of Tago Mago in the wrong frame of mind.) But, in the right mood, it’s some of the best stuff you’ve ever heard – stretched out minimalism that’s both disorienting and occasionally transcendent.

More than any of their contemporaries, Amon Duul are recognized as the forefathers of the whole krautrock movement. They originally consisted of, what I assume to be, hippie commune burnouts in late 60’s Germany, making appropriately stretched-out and red-eyed rock music on their debut Psychedelic Underground. At the time, psychedelia was just blossoming, but their take on the scene was distinct, unusual, occasionally terrifying/uplifting and incredible. Most popular rock music at the time (Beatles, Stones, Who, etc.) borrowed heavily from American foundations, whereas Amon Duul and the burgeoning krautrock scene favored something unearthly and individual – (poorly recorded) drum circle focused freakouts (try “Ein Wunderhubsches Madchen Traumt Von Sandosa” with time/patience), confounding tape experiments or baroque musings. For my money, Psychedelic Underground may have kick started the krautrock movement, but Amon Duul didn’t move in a different or more exciting direction until they became Amon Duul II.

Amon Duul II’s configuration dropped (some of) the hippie commune vibe for more straight forward rock tropes and way higher production values. Granted, we’re not talking three chord pop songs, but the guitar and therefore song composition began to become more of a focal point. Both Phallus Dei and Yeti are high points for this, balancing experimentation with tunefulness, particularly Dei’s title track and Yeti’s “Soap Shop Rock”, “Archangels Thunderbird” and, even if it’s short, “The Return of Reubezahl”. Amon Duul began to approach a way further out version of Yes. Their turn into songwriting yielded occasional singing that was (and is) pretty embarrassing, but they still honed their flourishing improvisational chops. Particularly on Yeti, my favorite Amon Duul record by a narrow margin, they sound tight as hell on “Yeti (improvisation)”. But listen to the drums – it’s not a krautrock song by definition – they’re playing rock music here.

Unfortunately, in the mid-70’s, Amon Duul took an ill-advised plunge into mainstream songwriting territory, but for a short while there, they were able to balance joyful improvisational power with exuberant songwriting. Thankfully, we have a few records left of the magic: a band that masterfully could span the divide of improv and composition.

Check out: Yeti, Psychedelic Underground, and Phallus Dei.

B is for Boring Idea

Driving back from Northern NJ today for work I came up with a wonderful idea to give myself some more initiative to post on here. While lifting an idea from Sue Grafton is probably a horrendous idea, I'm going to anyway to give myself some parameters to write. Essentially it'll be A: (band name/genre/city that begins with A), B: (band name/genre/city that begins with B), etc. It'll give me direction and on a writing schedule that'll have a definite topic -- sometimes I find myself floundering about for something to write about. Similar to what James Murphy did with 44:33*, I'm giving myself certain boundaries, but truly imaginary boundaries that "restrict" only in the sense that I'm giving myself 26 consecutive things to write about. By the way, this won't be done in 26 days and if I feel the need to write about something else, "off-letter", I will. I care about you, that's why I'm doing this. Just so you know.

*This is untrue.

10 Years Later...

The Beta Band broke up to very little fanfare sometime in the last two years. For a band that had a hugely promising focal point in a great movie (High Fidelity), it was strange to see such a unique and, let's be honest, agreeable band disappear. I remember the first time my (now reformed) Banana Republic sporting ass saw and heard "Dry the Rain" on the big screen. All those moments of trying to find my niche and what I was going to waste 90% of my time finally became clear. Record collector! But, it seems like time's unkind to bands like the Betas in recent memory. I've just been checking out The Three EPs, and, hell yes, these dudes could gel. Particularly on "B + A" and "Dog's Got a Bone" they take the mindset of a electronic act, manipulating their sound ever so slightly and minimally to reach the grand apex of release, but they're doing it within the claustrophobic boundaries of traditional rock music and instrumentation. Pretty impressive stuff. Now, you could point to plenty of earlier examples of this type of music, but rarely are they as genuinely enjoyable to listen to. It honestly seems that people are waiting another ten years until we can like this stuff again. So when you hear about the super-deluxe digi-release of the Betas epically mind-melting masterpieces, don't buy it - just enjoy it for what it is. Some very good grooves.

(By the way, Daft Punk ripped off "Monolith" on "Technologic". Sayin'...)

Get excited...

Thanks to the folks at Pitchfork for the heads up on Drag City's post of Bill Callahan's (Smog) newest song, "Sycamore". I'm not a huge fan of listening to stuff on the internet (getting used to it), but, shit yes, I am a big fan of Callahan's. From what it sounds like, we've got a step away from A River Ain't Too Much To Love and the sparse acoustic sound. Here, Mr. Callahan and crew favor a busy arrangement of 3 (or 4!) intertwining guitar lines and Bill's cool, assured baritone. The guitar sounds similar to "Our Anniversary", but much more complex and decidedly sanguine. Of course, Callahan remains one of our time's best lyricists, using deceptively simple diction and common sayings to reveal universal truths. Just a few samples: "And you won't get hurt if you just keep your hands up/And stand tall/Like sycamore" & "Sycamore gotta grow down to grow up." "Sycamore" is off of Woke on a Whaleheart and is coming out some time in April. I'm pumped.

...

In other news, this is on the Fucking Champs' home page:

From what it sounds like, this could put to shame all that "heavy" music that's been floating around the last couple of years. I'm thinking of growing (or buying) a gross blond mustache for the occasion.

...

Thanks Drag City. You rule.

March Mix

After last month's (yeah, two mo. ago) frigid mix, we got some super weather here in Philly/S. Jersey, giving me the inspiration to break out some warm weather jams. Nothing here's really too "hott" for sure, but most of these tunes do remind me of being able to drive with the windows down. And that, in itself, is an damn feat after our miserable January and February.

Next month, I'll try not to base crap off of the weather, 'cause that shit is so played!

Sex:

Side A --
1. Annuals: "Brother" (Crickets chirp, indie rock from North Carolina rules.)
2. The Clientele: "My Own Face Inside the Trees"
3. Archers of Loaf: "Scenic Pastures" (NC what!)
4. The Beta Band: "I Know" (Incredible bass line. This song just feels warm.)
5. Stephen Malkmus: "Vanessa From Queens" (In an alternate universe, this would've been Seals and Croft's "Summer Breeze")
6. The Magnetic Fields: "When My Boy Walks Down the Street"
7. The Faces: "Cindy Incidentally"
8. Marah: "Sooner or Later" ('Course we need to close out side A with a drinking song. I want to swing a beer back and forth letting the suds splash over the side of the glass. But not get wet - like Prince during halftime at the Super Bowl. Magic.)

Side B --
9. Iggy & the Stooges: "Shake Appeal" (An absolute romp. What a burner.)
10. Jay Reatard: "Oh It's Such a Shame" (This dude and album, Blood Visions, has been tremendously overlooked and in heavy rotation over here. Looks like the PR focused Pitchfork and Friends missed an obvious hit. But you're better than that, right? Get it now.)
11. Blood On The Wall: "Stoner Jam"
12. Fujiya and Miyagi: "Photocopier"
13. Daft Punk: "Digital Love" (Is there a better pop song?)
14. LCD Soundsystem: "Someone Great" (Maybe this one.)
15. Beach House: "Saltwater"
16. Vetiver: "Maureen" (Nothing like finishing a mix with an old fashioned country folk song that's perfect for some porch sittin'.)

Taking Pictures

Extended-stay hotels always carry a creepy feeling: like transitory cages for the middle-aged with the stale stink of lonely drinking, deviant pornography, or unrealized delusions of grandeur hanging in the air. Probably creepier too are the images of business people Prozac-ed out, psyched about their meeting the next day that greet you on cardboard placards. Eeriness abounds: there's weird open spaces, stained furniture, way too many towels.

Pictures were taken in a highway hotel near you. The food was bad, the beer came in 22's. I had Mylo's "Drop the Pressure", Simian Mobile Disco's "Hustler" and the NCAA tournament keep me company.

Catch Up

Maybe I'm just feeling this because of the upcoming reunion, but Travis Morrison's new track is totally dope, yo. Check it here. After his first solo record (yeah, I admit it, not very good), this is super promising. Brings back the fun spazziness of the Plan 4 sure.

Yessssss

I have Dismemberment Plan tickets to their 4/27 show. Shit yes!

To those of you who don't know what this means: this means awesome. This means a shit-eating grin across my face for the next month and a half or so. This means that I have one more chance to get super sweaty to the jams that soundtracked most of my senior year of high school and college years. This means my leg starts to shake when I think about it.

February

If I haven't mentioned it before, or if you haven't read that far back, I'm a member of a geek-out music community called the International Mixtape Project. Essentially, it’s a group of guys and girls who make mixtapes (usually CDs) for each other on a monthly basis. Unless serendipity steps in, you don’t know the person and they don’t know you – you’re really just picking a bunch of songs that you think they’ll like. Let’s be honest though: it’s mostly stuff you like and stuff that you want to people across the globe to hear. So far I’ve received some cool tunes, some radio-ready, overplayed songs and some real creative CDs from people. I’m not sure how seriously people take it, but sometimes, you’ll get a pretty cool one with some serious thought put into it on sequencing, song selection and design.

For February, I went with the weather. It’s been icy in the Northeast US for the past 3 weeks, with the thaw finally hitting the last 2 days. There’s a plethora of icy cold, chilling and minimally orchestrated/barren songs out there that I thought would be a good fit for the time of year. I tried not to make the whole thing emotionally void, but the a few get pretty cold there:

1. “Hallogallo” by Neu
2. “Gutted” by Burial
3. “Farben Says: So Much Love” by Farben
4. “Silent Shout” by the Knife
5. “Conjugate the Verbs” by Enon
6. “Experiment” by the A-Frames
7. “Almost the Same” by Clearlake
8. “White House” by American Analog Set
9. “Pearly-Dewdrops’ Drops” by Cocteau Twins
10. “The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack” by Liars
11. “Solar System” by the Microphones
12. “Undertaker” by M.Ward
13. “Motion Pictures” by Neil Young
14. “Saltwater” by Beach House

#1

Liars
Drum’s Not Dead
(Mute)

Liars are a band very few people apart from themselves expected to be where they are right now. In the dance-punk salad days of ’01, they were the toast of vintage denim ground zero: Brooklyn, USA. To know that they’d cover the amount of miles physically (including a stop in beauteous New Jerz on their way to becoming Berlin, Germany residents) and artistically, would either mean that you’re James Murphy’s narrator in “Losing My Edge” (“I was there when Captain Beefheart had their first practice…”) or a, umm, liar. (YES! I knew I could fit that in!)

Looking back at their initial sound, it’s kind of obvious that their ragged no-wave would either degenerate into tedium due to unfertile musical grounds or they would need to move somewhere different. They chose the latter and seriously distanced themselves from the then-blossoming scene they helped create, losing numerous fans and critical praise in their magnificently risky sophomore record, They Were Wrong So We Drowned. Virtually all of the touchstones of They Threw Us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument On Top – funky bass, serrated guitars and steady start-to-finish drums – disappeared and in its place stood a monolithic concept record about witches. The sound was claustrophobic, paranoid and extremely foreboding “rock” that consisted of scratchy and staticy electronics, missing bass parts, creaking noises and terrifying chanting. I remember going to the Mute listening party and having their PR dorks apologize for “Steam Rose from the Lifeless Cloak” saying that “don’t worry the disc isn’t broken, this is how it’s supposed to sound”. Course, they were just making sure that no one left until the single (“There’s Always Room on the Broom”) came on. Yeah: not exactly top 100 hot singles material.

Clearly, Drowned was widely panned. It lived up to seemingly no one’s expectations and, weirdly, the sometimes open-minded world of independent music lovers couldn’t seem to grasp the direction they were moving in. I was of the opposite opinion – and I’m not trying to be a know-it-all pariah here, honest. I remember thinking it was a prescient grasp on modern day paranoia and terror. So I found it initially baffling that, 3 years later, when Liars released Drum’s Not Dead, another opaque set of songs, listeners and critics were warming back up again. But then I heard it again. And again. And again.

From the first song (“Be Quite Mt. Heart Attack!”) it’s much clearer this time that a concept’s at hand. Things begin with a lidocane of sine waves floating over heartbeat-like drums, the obvious focal point of the album. The breathtaking recording is immediately noticeable. Liars used an abandoned East German radio facility that provides a true fullness of sound that I’ve never heard before. But once that first track fades into “Let’s Not Wrestle Mt. Heart Attack” it’s clear that there’s a chance that people are going to get this. A weird synth preset oscillates underneath industrial drums all while Angus Andrew’s ghostly falsetto controls the direction. It’s a beautiful moment, possibly the albums’ best. But it’s a moment only eclipsed by the next track’s pump house rhythm, which is then eclipsed by…etc, etc, etc. Drum’s constant one-upmanship is incredible – you wonder where they’re going to go next and are always astonished by where they take it. And even though the idea could use some rest, yes, the concept develops, one that plays at a struggle between weakness and self-assurance. But it’s important not to key in on one thing here: it’s best to focus on the actual composition of the whole here. More than anything Drum’s Not Dead is a true album: one that grips you from the eerie premonitory notes until the heartbreaking beauty of “The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack”. It’s absolutely perfect.

#2

Midlake
The Trials of Van Occupanther
(Bella Union)

Somehow, I’m very, very inclined to music that’s muscular, demented in some way, and aggressive. Is it better? Just more unusual? Or just what my ear perks to? I know I’ll never understand why because you toss a record like The Trials of Van Occupanther on, a record that has more pure pop moments than any record I’ve heard in the last 10 years, and I constantly want to hit repeat. The first time I heard Midlake, this record didn’t leave my car stereo (I drive 2 hours a day) for about 2 straight weeks. On the surface, there’s nothing unusual about this. It’s orchestrated pop akin to Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours or the occasional moments of ELO. But like each of those groups, there are more awe-inspiring moments in a 4-minute song than any hour-long Acid Mothers Temple bliss out or Steve Vai solo-from-heaven could elicit.

The Denton, TX band that seemingly come out of nowhere are pretty much a marketer’s nightmare (sorry boys, don’t know who you are). They have names like Tim, Eric and Paul. They play guitar, bass, drums, piano, and sometimes synth (ooh! crazy!). But for these cats, image will come – for right now I’m not really thinking that it’s a primary concern. Based on the simple strength and control they have on songwriting and melody, Midlake could be huge. They’re soft enough to rock the dentist’s office (“Van Occupanther”), rocking enough to get chicks to dance (“Head Home”) and flat out impressive enough to just make anyone a believer (“Roscoe”). They don’t really push any boundaries, but that’s just it – they color within the lines, but manage twist and contort the drawing into something wildly unique. Yeah, The Trials of Van Occupanther may be a soft rock album and maybe you could say I’m just getting older and losing my edge, getting married, etc. But think of me when a bunch of high school girls are creaming over stuff like this. The boys will follow.

Now excuse me while I cry to “Branches”.

#3

The Drones
Gala Mill
(ATP)

The first time that I tried to describe this band to someone was a Dude at Ameoba records. I brought my selections to the register, two of which were Drones records, one as a gift, one for me. I usually stare at the discs or records that I’m getting, judging the reaction of the clerk out of the corner of my eye to see if he (it’s always he) is going to acknowledge my superior musical tastes. He did, but asked what the Drones sounded like. Shit. Now I have to defend my musical tastes and explain my advanced knowledge without sounding like a pretentious record store jerk-off. But what the hell did he want? Reference points? Some trippy genre name (loose nut country blues, BTW)? I stuttered, confused unsure. After all I’ve never heard anything quite like this group before. So: “Uh, they’re Australian so they kind of sound like Midnight Oil if they were totally nuts. Well, not really. Um, they have a lot of quiet parts that go into louder parts.” Jesus. “They’re a bluesy band that’s pretty unusual.” So yeah, I realized that I could do a bit better in this area.

While some of the ramblings that spewed out of my hole kind of make loose sense, there’s plenty more to the band that, by the way, have impressively advanced their craft on their new record Gala Mill. Virtually every song begins subdued serving as a counterpoint to their careening, explosive moments of rock borrowing from everything from country to blues to garage to surf. While it sounds simple, virtually every song begins fresh and sounds nothing anything I’ve heard. But as good their crusty, gritty rock ‘n roll gets, the crucial aspect is Gareth Liddiard. His voice is unlike anything I’ve heard on record, a complete ball of emotion – quiet when it needs to be, but a massive howl when the grips of passion and noise overwhelm. Although at times it’s a voice that seems to be having a transcendent moment, head in the clouds, feet unable to touch ground, somehow he reigns in the band and provides the Drones incredible direction and tone.

Now, while calling them a cooler Midnight Oil, probably won’t win them many fans, the Drones are a top band from a country that has a hell of a reputation for incredible rock and roll – from Radio Birdman to AC/DC to the Birthday Party. You can add another band to the list.

#4

Comets On Fire
Avatar
(Sub Pop)

Blues based rock can be some of the worst crap you’ve ever heard (see: Jet, Johnny Lang, etc.), or can (and should) be some of the best (see: the Stooges, Stones, etc.). So while those Stooges records have all been rerecorded and redone and re-imagined and recycled countless wonderful times and, recently, even more horrendously revolting times, it’s nice to see fresh legs willing to go into the game. While they’re not new at their frank brand of blistering guitar workouts, Comets On Fire have stepped up their game considerably from Blue Cathedral. That record was a romp: a 40+ minute guitar solo with some stoned howling and organ for good measure. For what direction it lacked, it made up in sundazed glee and amplifier worship.

So perhaps it’s unsurprising that Avatar is their song record. Maybe they had already reached the top – their volume knobs were already at 11, how much louder and crazier can you get? The COF sound is still intact here – echoed out everything, near-constant drumfills, and Ben Chasny’s immaculate riffing – but nicely filtered, slowed down at times, and paced very well. The band took a page from the 70’s boogie rock brethren’s songbook and laid a foundation of a record down made for live extrapolations. But we’re not talking a half-baked Grateful Dead record here (their stuff was much too top heavy and always collapsed under pressure) – nah, we’re talking solidly drawn out chord progressions and MF-ing songwriting brotha. (Just try not to wave that cigarette lighter during “Lucifer’s Memory”.) Stuff that sticks to the ribs. We’re talking a band that can explode like an H-bomb at any time but for the sake of tension waits until just the right time to melt your skin.

#5

Junior Boys
So This Is Goodbye
(Domino)

Records this simple sneak right up on you: using nothing really more than early-Depeche Mode synths and an 808, Junior Boys made one of my favorite pop records of this year, and definitely my favorite synth-oriented release in, uh, ever. Pale faced and fey sounding, Junior Boys aren’t really something someone into Wolf Eyes would normally cop to, but a world of sound’s out there – you’d be doing yourself a disservice not to hear this. The beats and melodies are lean, but develop slowly over each song and the record, reaching the apex during “In The Morning”, So This Is Goodbye’s crown jewel. Its simple programmed key pattern and break accented with breathy beatboxing set the scene until the “aahh yrrr 2 young” coos drop and that devastating key hook breaks loose. While, like the rest of the record, it’s firmly planted in the 80’s, it’s plain to see that a melody this good is welcome in any decade.

#6

Joanna Newsom
Ys
(Drag City)

That so many visionaries were incorporated in the creation of Newsom’s latest is quite the unavoidable stamp of approval. Think about it – Van Dyke Parks on strings, Bill Callahan (Smog) on back-up vocals, Steve Albini on recording, and Jim O’Rourke on mix. Regardless of whether their names bring association, they’ve shaped the way modern music and sound is digested and considered. Add that to the fact that a smallish independent record with little disposable funds on their hands took the leap in funding the huge project and it’s obvious that this was either going to be a colossal disaster of egos or an absolute masterpiece. I don’t need to tell you which.

Newsom’s voice is totally unique in an increasingly homogenous industry. At once it conjures ancient wisdom and youthful possibility, complexity and simplicity, reality and the fantastic. It’s never something that will set the discriminating masses into motion. But for a select few nothing will be better than the joy of wordplay and splendor of melody that Ys communicates.

#7

Jesu
Silver EP
(Hydra Head)

I think Jesu might have been on my list last year, but at this point it really doesn’t matter. Justin Broadrick (he of Napalm Death, Godflesh, Final, etc. fame) has developed his shoegazer outfit into an absolute beast on this all too short EP. Normally, I wouldn’t give something like this so much credit but, like the Secret Machines’ shorty September 000, you have a cohesive statement made in an appropriate amount of time with all the excess trimmed. Nearly every time I hear the beginning of “Silver” the hair stand up on the back of my neck and my head bows in grace and acknowledgement of utter beauty and magnificence. That the simple pummeling drums and gigantically overdriven guitars create such a humbling experience is incredible. Importantly, that vastness doesn’t signify emptiness but the promise of possibility.

#8

Califone
Roots & Crowns
(Thrill Jockey)

Califone’s past efforts have walked on my side of the street but always seem to miss, never quite hitting the mark as hard as they could. Por ejemplo: the thoughts on Heron King Blues were great, but carried out much too long. Long songs have their place, but without constant development you’re inevitably going to lose the listener into something else. Thankfully, Roots & Crowns takes that line and stays within the confines that suit their ramshackle folky blues-rock.

Tim Rituli’s outfit still sports the incredible sepia-tinged and naturally crowded mix of Brian Deck, but for once it’s not the kitchen sink approach that defines them. Much like TV on the Radio, the song is key. “Sunday Noises” uses this perfectly – at its core you have a wonderful fingerpicked drawing, but it’s one that gets fleshed out with colors and layers and you find a affecting work of art arise before your eyes.

And, while it’s not theirs, “The Orchids” is one of the most simply beautiful moments put to tape – ever. A fascinating meditation on awakening, it’s a prescient statement for a band that’s finally arrived.

#9

TV on the Radio
Return to Cookie Mountain
(Interscope)

The holy My Bloody Valentine name is tossed around a ton these days, at pretty much anything that will categorize easily as “overtly distorted” or “effects laden”, which sometimes includes TV on the Radio. It’s a shame and lazy on any reviewer’s part. Loveless isn’t a meaningful album because of its innovative use of the distortion and volume knob. If that were the case, then there never would’ve been Velvet Underground’s White Light, White Heat. Rather, it was a record that took suffocated and nebulous yet very melodic songwriting and buried that sound under countless layers of discordant noise. In that sense, the MBV comparison only vaguely warranted, but even then, not so much so. In reality the only space they share is that of fantastic songwriters and visionaries of their own craft.

TV on the Radio exist in a sphere all their own. It’s a virtual junkyard of pop music incorporating doo wop, R&B, electronica, balls out rock, and other cast-off detritus. It’s a sound that’s unavoidably “urban”. Like any big city the disjointed and unfamiliar are braced up against one another. Rather than jump out in alarming juxtaposition, Return to Cookie Mountain is a sound of the unfamiliar yet undeniably exciting smoothly coexisting.

#10

Mastodon
Blood Mountain
(Reprise)

From one extreme to the other. Metal’s not something I was bred on – it was just always available. I grew inclined to the imagery (skulls, swords, leather, chicks – YO!) from all the ridiculous late 80’s and early 90’s Omen and Danzig videos. And despite all the Metal denial I went through in college and the fey stuff I do tend to like, deep in the most closed-off recesses of my mind exists Metal Brett that wants nothing more than to mainline Jack Daniels, huff paint and grow his hair long. Metal Brett loves Mastodon. Hardcore enough not to be wimpy, yet containing some impressive soft parts (“Sleeping Giant”) that are definitely not gay, and most importantly and triumphantly, dudes can slay. Blood Mountain is a band at top form, technically impressive, capable of writing a great song and ready for arena worship. See you in the parking lot – I’ll be crushing my 17th Studweiser.

#11

Brightblack Morning Light
Brightblack Morning Light
(Matador)

They’re a cheeky group, but I’ve very much fallen for the gimmickry. Normally any group that asks their fans to bring crystals to shows to give “positive vibes” won’t get a second glance from me (normally because one must avoid the patchouli stink). But despite the 3-D-esque prism-creating glasses with pot leaves on them that come with the CD, something just jives, brah. BML trade in groovy, damp funk, the kind that’s perfect on summer mornings with 85 degree temperatures when you wake up. Words are immaterial: it's the lumbering, stoned beat, restrained Fender Rhodes and he/she coos that suck you in. In my alternate universe, this is what hippies would listen to while making hemp necklaces. Too bad they’re all wasting their time staring at Trey’s bulge.

#12

Chad VanGaalen
Skelliconnection
(Sub Pop)

Apparently these songs are culled from multiple tapes recorded in the musician/animator/illustrator’s home and the intimacy is one of Skelliconnection’s greatest appeals. Broadly, it’s indie rock, but drilling down and separating the elements, you hear a truly distinct artist at play here. His ghostly vocals hang over most every track here casting a spell on most everything he tries. And nearly every type of pop music is represented: from power pop (“Burn 2 Ash”), to wimpy metal (“Flower Garden”), to minimalism (“Grubbbish”), to acoustic rock (“See-Thru-Skin”). It’s important to state that this isn’t a genre exercise. Rather, it’s a guy, probably with a large record collection, that likes to never paint the same picture twice.

#13

Scott Walker
The Drift
(4AD)

Every word measured. Every sound labored over and considered. Every moment devastating. Something as sonically incapacitating and polarizing doesn’t come around, well, ever. Nothing has ever sounded like this before and never will. If you can do one thing to expand your perception of what exactly sound can do and how it should be considered, start here. You will not be disappointed.

#14

T.I.
King
(Atlantic)

A cocksure young black man is not a unique figure in hip-hop music. But a young man calling himself “King”, using UGK’s finest production moment for his own(“Front Back”), and nonchalantly rhyming the same word, like, 50 times (“What You Know”) while still captivating the listener? An impressive feat wherever you come from. It doesn’t hurt that T.I. gets immaculate production help, but his understated, laid back and incredibly charismatic flow is star here. There’s no denying that King has its schmaltz, its unimpressive guest spots and overlong intro/outros. It’s unimportant. When dude hits the mic, it’s over.

(One more thing: there’s no ignoring any record that includes the best single song of the year. “What You Know” is classic – the best of any genre.)

#15

Cat Power
The Greatest
(Matador)

Ms. Chan Marshall is one of only two women on this list bearing most of her record’s load – a fact that I’m both embarrassed and alarmed by. Is the underground that much of an exclusive fraternity? I’ll be the first to admit – 99% of women would be turned off, no, repulsed by Human Animal or even Hell Hath No Fury. But does music, and particularly independent music, always have to be a man’s man’s man’s man’s world?

Regardless, Chan is a hell of an artist. With one of the world’s best voices, a smoky, whispery croon, Marshall channels the Dusty (Springfield) south and creates one of the smoothest records short of Windham Hill. It’s old news that some of Memphis’ finest accompany Chan on this collection, but every time you press play, instead of getting some soul retread or worn out genre, you hear a woman on the top of her game lyrically, vocally and as a songwriter. It never gets old.

#16

Boris
Pink
(Southern Lord)

I want to love Sunn O))), but they’re sometimes not rocking enough. I dig the slow and heavy and scary thing often, but sometimes the obfuscation of melody for anti-momentum can be extremely frustrating. Not that Boris is coming in with a hyper-slow song, but rock tempo-wise, “(parting)” is a churner with great melody making the journey into Pink all the more gratifying and exciting. From there, pretty much every heavy type of rock is put under their lens and done so muscularly and with radical grit and excitement. A wonderfully dynamic and burly group making a very welcome effort into the expansion of the Zep Empire.

#17

Thom Yorke
The Eraser
(XL)

I first bought this record during one of the most oppressive heat waves that I’ve ever encountered. The cold synths were perfect then, almost like aural air-conditioning. Fast forward a few months, driving home on the Pennsylvania Turnpike and I flipped this on. Full moon, no one on the road but me, gently rolling hills -- it was the perfect sound. I’m easily swayed by circumstance, but every time I seem to flip The Eraser on, it adapts. You could chalk it up to the technologically cold and emotionally barren times we live in. I think its just clear – Yorke’s the one of the best songwriters my generation’s ever seen.

(Bonus: I think they talk about #20 in “Black Swan”. Right?)

#18

Dark Meat
Universal Indians
(Cloud Recordings)

It’s a good rule of thumb to be wary of any group that gets press because they’ve got 26 members and are “crazy”. Usually it just means a core of untalented clowns padding the impact by surrounding themselves with people who can dick around long enough to distract to the task at hand – the core of the song. Well, the beacon of goodness that is Cloud Recordings strikes Athens, GA gold here again with a great rock band and an ecstatic group of blowers. (Loosely) think a more polite Stooges but maxed out with 10 more saxes and trumpets going full-on. And that’s just “Freedom Ritual”.

#19

Clipse
Hell Hath No Fury
(Startrak)

The fact that Clipse were held back for 4 years is a travesty. Buy this album – support quality art. Dense, disturbing, dilating, and incredibly impressive.

#20

Fucked Up
Hidden World
(Jade Tree)

I’ve had a ban in spouting profanities on this space for a few reasons. One, it’s lazy. Two, it’s unnecessary. Three, what if my boss/parents read this? Honestly, I’m gonna keep it up, but when you have a band like Fucked Up, I’m not gonna be a huge wimp and “*” and “$” their name up. After all, these are a group of people who stick to their morals as unusual, non-mainstream, and, yeah, quite possibly as fucked up as they are. They’re true-blue punk rockers here giving good old hardcore a lift out of straight-edge stagnation. Aside from Clockcleaner (who I didn’t hear until last week – unreal), I can’t really think of hardcore as brutal and uncompromising that I want to hear on a regular basis. Loud and screamy is one thing, it’s their arm-raised triumphant-ness and self-righteousness that makes me want to throw Molotov cocktails at Verizon stores, convert my car to vegetable oil and replace my entire library with Zinn and Chomsky. High fucking recommendation.

#21

Pearls & Brass
The Indian Tower
(Drag City)

Mountain/Cactus/etc.-esque boogie rawk finally gets it’s due. Another in a long line of unreal rock releases this year. Pearls and Brass aren’t so much classic rock revivalists as breathing new life into music that never should’ve disappeared.

#22

Robert Pollard
From a Compound Eye
(Merge)

Viewed through the lens of Bobby Pollard’s discography, FaCE must seem like it came out 20 years ago. He’s pretty much put out about 6 or 7 albums since this was released about a year ago in January of 2006, but you’d probably be hard pressed to find a better power-pop release in that time. Pollard’s Who affectations are on full display along with an incredible knack for the pacing of an album. Often times, a Guided By Voices or Pollard record just seems like a 16+ songs threaded together for an “album”. Here we finally get a glance back to the good old days of the double album – 2 records, 4 sides, hard rockers and ballads. Viewed as such, this is a paramount record – windmill guitars, verbose lyrics, and a much too short 75-minute playtime.