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.