Esser

"Headlock"
from the album Braveface
2009
iTunes



Esser — Ben Esser to his nearest and dearest — is 23 years old, hails from Essex, and sports the best quiff since Morrissey. He also has two tattoos, one "good" and one "bad," on either side of his neck.

Predictably, certain music magazines have called him the "male Lily Allen" based on the fact that he's white, young, and, well, English. Sure there's a whiff of ska on some songs, and he chooses to sing in a simple, conversational style, but he also touches on garage rock, dub, electro, and R&B. And on "Satisfied" he attempts what may well be a soundtrack to a lost Chaplin film.

His debut album Braveface (out in the U.S. on August 11) is restless, settling on a sound only to master it and move on by the time the next song rolls around. Miraculously, the whole thing hangs together perfectly, each song complementing the last, and what should be a mess of disparate influences becomes a cohesive whole.

Lyrically it's surprisingly melancholy, the focus being either the loss of a relationship ("Work It Out"), the struggle to keep a partner happy ("Satisfied"), or sheer frustration at how things have turned out (the brilliant "Headlock," with the classic line "bury me in sand like a knackered stallion").

"Leaving Town," the album's bold opener, is a rush of Graham Coxon-like buzz-saw guitars, paranoia and resignation: "There's a fire in my heart and it's breaking me down." Such a morose outlook is tempered by the perfectly pitched chorus of 'la, la, las' that rises and falls throughout.

The title track is the album's pure pop moment; over a summery groove and skittering beat, Esser muses on the merits of pretending in order to keep the peace. Again, the musical perkiness is offset by the lyrics, "When you feel like you've had all you can take/ Tie a brick to your ankles and jump in the lake."

"Seductive" hooks ooze out of every song, from the simple chorus on the heart-wrenching "Bones," to the futuristic space pop of recent U.K. single Work It Out, to the dark, undulating closer, "Stop Dancing." Previous single "I Love You" houses a verse as catchy as any chorus, and even the relatively straight forward "This Time Around" features a gorgeous breakdown midway through, co-producer Lexxx (Golden Silvers, Crystal Castles) piling on the backing vocals over some fuzzy guitar stabs.

As with pop peer Frankmusik, Esser is able to create inventive but immediate pop songs, ones that sound loved and cared for. Choruses are unashamedly signposted throughout, the melodies never clouded in unnecessary studio trickery or hampered by clunking lyrics.

History may consign him to the box marked "pop stars who told it how it was" alongside The Streets and Lily Allen, but Esser deserves to be cherished with whoever gets picked to represent maverick pop at its best.

~ Michael Cragg, musicOMH

Spoon

TONIGHT AT SUMMERFEST
"The Way We Get By"
from the album Kill the Moonlight
2002
iTunes



September 19, 2002:
In many important ways, Kill the Moonlight is an exercise in restraint: its songs simmer close to the surface, perilously approach a spilling-over at the 3 minute-mark, and then are finally tamed by the men at the stove's controls. These men, the Austin quartet known as Spoon, definitely know how to bring a pot to boil. So take heart rock fans. No need to throw away that fluorescent orange child's tee-shirt. Darling, you don't need to go and cut your hair, just because Pavement abandoned you — Spoon has returned with a worthy follow-up to last year's Girls Can Tell... and they're going to kill you (relatively) softly.

If you haven't heard, the always imaginative music critics of America describe Spoon as "Modern Lovers meets Wire" in the new millennium, and its frontman/chief singer-songwriter Britt Daniel as equal parts Elvis Costello and Frank Black. Now, I don't know about all this, but I do know that Moonlight puts me in a tough spot about explaining how good it really is. It's that rare record that's equal parts innovation and familiarity, or what one might refer to as a perfectly designed and executed experiment in indie aesthetics. Never inaccessible, but always pushing some part of the sonic envelope, Moonlight balances sharp hooks and even sharper lyrics with interesting rhythmic pulses, quirky production, and a stripped down sound that stirs the soul with cathartic longing. It's not that the songs don't provide a release (i.e. they do rock) — it's just that the energies provided by the guitars, the drums, the constant piano and occasional sampling work off each other instead of on top of each other. The overall volume never gets high enough to invoke chaos, prevalent in the work of, say, a Wire circa Chairs Missing. In this sense, Moonlight will not satisfy a listener's hunger for heaviness or complexity. Rather, it relies on a kind of space and a unique, refined sense of style that worked so well for Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

Take, for example, the songs that Merge's promo material calls the hit singles of the record. "The Way We Get By" lays down the piano hook (played in cheery Ben Folds fashion by Eggo Johanson) from the outset, but waits a solid minute before John Clayton's beefy bass tones and Jim Eno's mid-tempo drumming kick in. Combine these elements with tongue-in-cheek lyrics like "You bought a new bag of pot... said let's make a new start" and hand-clapping, and you do, in fact, have your radio-friendly single. But Moonlight features more than just pop brilliance. The human beat box rhythm of "Stay Don't Go", chopped up and sampled beat of "Paper Tiger," and extreme panning in the mix of "Don't Let It Get You Down" are all examples of Spoon's adventurous side.

~ Jeff Rufo, Dusted

Michael Jackson

AUGUST 29, 1958 - JUNE 25, 2009

"Ain't No Sunshine"
from the album Got to Be There
1972
iTunes

Strand of Oaks

"End in Flames"
from the album Leave Ruin
2009
iTunes



Timothy Showalter, or Strand of Oaks, is a Pennsylvania-based school teacher and bus driver who this year released his debut album, Leave Ruin. The record is a collection of nine well-crafted folk tunes that have a worn, familiar feel to them despite this being Showalter's first effort. His string of personal tribulations and unique experiences seems to have gifted him with a world-weary, yet hopeful perspective that makes the album so earnestly compelling.

Showalter's classic folk presentation is, at times, reminiscent of songwriters like Neil Young or Bob Dylan, though Strand of Oaks carves out a sound that uses these influences as a guide and not as a blueprint. The opening three tracks are arguably the album's strongest; "End in Flames" is both sad and sweet, "Two Kids" is a brief, delicate love song to a single mother, and "Lawns Breed Songs" is an honest plea from son to father. Not every track succeeds so completely, but Leave Ruin contains no filler, either. The songs vary greatly in length, with the shortest at two and a half minutes, and the longest at an even nine. Along with the subtle variety in style, the song structures add some needed diversity to the album.

Showalter's voice is soft, but not wispy or delicate, and it carries an incredible sense of emotion into each of his tunes. At times, Leave Ruin is regretful, "Sorry you missed the test, sorry you missed the dance, sorry your mom hates me so much, 'cause I'm everything she wants in a man," occasionally hopeful, "I hope someday to whisper and say that you're the one that I rely on," and sometimes just sad, "my head doesn't pound with my heart, I fuck up before I even start." Musically, the songs benefit from full, fleshed-out arrangements that add to, rather than distract from, his captivating stories, with piano, banjo and drums surrounding the simple acoustic guitar riffs.

What Showalter offers throughout the album is not a musical breakthrough or reinvention of sound, but a set of stories and narratives grafted with his own personal touch, and that's what great songwriting is all about. Leave Ruin might not create much of a stir this year, but the album is a quiet gem deserving of any attention it receives.

~ Chewing Gum for the Ears

A.A. Bondy

"When the Devil's Loose"
from the album When the Devil's Loose
2009
iTunes



Singer/songwriter A.A. Bondy's choice to embark on a solo career was just something to do. The former Verbena guitarist/vocalist said there is a new dynamic as a solo artist, especially an independent solo artist, that is hard to explain.

"First off, when I write the songs, I don't have to see if anyone else likes them," Bondy said during a phone interview from Charlotte, N.C. "If I was on a bigger label or in a band, then there would be all this other stuff surrounding songwriting.

"But now, with the songs I write, I feel, I don't know, like I'm finished building a frame of a house and stepping back to look at it. It feels complete to me. It's like a gift to myself."

After releasing his debut solo American Hearts in 2006, it was released by Fat Possum in 2007. The album was mostly acoustic singer/songwriter fare with a couple of electric tracks thrown in the mix, said Bondy. "I didn't really think of what it was going to be," he said.

However, when it came time to record songs for his new album, When the Devil's Loose, which will be released on Sept. 1, Bondy did mostly electric. "It wasn't that big of a deal to me," he said. "I played them the way I thought they would sound best. And it so happened that they are more beefed up than the so-called 'country sound' on my last album.

"I think that everybody wants to do something different and to have the freedom to do whatever they want inside of what they do," he said. "Well, at least I do. I like making things interesting. At least they're interesting to me."

However, doing different things musically doesn't mean they have to be polished. "I'm not one of those people who plays things hundreds of times to get it right, unless something else is happening during those 100 times," Bondy said. "In fact, after a couple of times, if it doesn't work out, then it's old.

"Some of my ideas die a horrible messy death, but others blossom and become the thing I want to follow to see how they come out."

~ Scott Iwasaki, Deseret News

The Fiery Furnaces

"The End is Near"
from the album I'm Going Away
2009
iTunes



Brooklyn brother/sister indie-rockers the Fiery Furnances recently opened a quick four-city jaunt with a stripped down, playful 90-minute set in Philadelphia that featured whiskey shots with the crowd and "the most talking we've ever done between songs," according to the band's multi-instrumental wunderkind Matthew Friedberger. "We're just stalling," he later admitted. "We're tired because we haven't played in so long."

Tired or not, the band managed to debut their new album, I'm Going Away (out July 21), from top to bottom for a wildly enthusistic crowd at tiny Kung Fu Necktie (capacity: 100).

The new tunes, like most in the Furnaces repertoire, were sprawled heartily across an inventive aural landscape: frequent, abrupt chord changes; newly-reinvented time signatures from drummer Bob D'amico; oodles and oodles of odd lyrics from vocalist Eleanor Friedberger. One thing they didn't have: keyboard. The band left the instrument home for the short tour, giving older tracks a refreshing touch, and new songs a raw, hard-edged appeal.

After blasting through a trio of tunes from older albums — "Here Comes the Summer," "Leaky Tunnel," "Chris Michaels" — the Furnaces chipped away at the newbies, frequently looking one another in the eyes to anticipate the myriad mid-song changes.

The album's title track leaned heavily on a rhythmic chug-chug-chug of bass fuzz from four-string savant Jason Lowenstein (ex of Sebadoh), but then dove quickly into a strutty, staccato disco-guitar pulse lead by Matthew. "Drive to Dallas" was a solemn, emotionally wrenching piano ballad (minus the piano, tonight). "Staring at the Steeple," began as a prog-heavy cut reminiscent of Yes' "Long Distant Run Around," before giving way to a meaty, distorted Sabbath-like dirge. "The End is Near" was a slow, bent-note blues jam that gave Matthew the sickest case of Solo Face this side of John Mayer.

"Even in the Rain," a feel-good pop gem (or something close), referenced its title so often that Eleanor asked a member of the audience if he'd already gotten his hands on the new album after she spied him singing along. "The lyrics to that one aren't hard to figure out," Matthew chided his younger sibling.

Dressed in a blue one-piece jumper, red ankle boots with an almost dangerous heel, and a haircut stolen from Patti Smith, Eleanor tugged the mic chord violently when emphasizing lyrics, creeped as close to stage's edge as monitors would allow, pointed to the crowd for added emphasis during tender moments, and fell to her knees every once in a sweaty while for a quick respite from the packed venue's heat. "Why do you get a fan?" she finally asked her breeze-cooled brother, as any deprived sibling might.

"You're the first people to hear these songs in the whole wide world," she said towards show's end. "Lucky or unlucky?" For the tiny, sweaty, thrilled Philadelphia crowd, the answer seemed obvious

~ Brian McManus, Spin

Kings of Convenience

VIDEO / A FAVORITE FROM FIVE YEARS AGO

Kings of Convenience
"I'd Rather Dance With You"
Riot on an Empty Street
Original release date: June 21, 2004
iTunes

June 18, 2004:
It's three years since the Kings of Convenience released their debut album, Quiet is the New Loud. As references to Simon & Garfunkel and Nick Drake became commonplace, Eirik Glambek Boe and Erlend Oye tiptoed away to Ibiza. Having given clubbers the most graceful of comedowns, Boe returned to university in Norway, while Oye made a solo album and immersed himself in dance culture. This new album picks up exactly where the Kings left off, with warm melodies and exquisitely detailed ruminations. The harmonies still glow, especially on the evocative "Gold in the Air of Summer," and Canadian chanteuse Feist on the jazzy "Know How" adds some bluesy soul to the sparse sound. "I'll make you laugh by acting like a guy who sings," they say on the swinging "I'd Rather Dance With You," their awkwardness as bittersweet as ever.

~ Betty Clarke, The Guardian

Manchester Orchestra

WEEKEND VIDEO

Manchester Orchestra
"I've Got Friends"
Mean Everything to Nothing
2009
iTunes

Manchester Orchestra is not, as its name might suggest, some Tony Wilson-produced, post-punk collaboration featuring Happy Mondays, Oasis, and the Smiths. Rather, it's an Atlanta-based indie-rock quintet that sounds like a cross between Dashboard Confessional and something that came out of Seattle's grunge scene. Their sophomore record is like a sonic form of whiplash: lullaby-like intros progress into fist-pumping choruses, pensive piano arrangements are followed by gritty guitar riffs, and frontman Andy Hull's vocals shift from folksy Conor Oberst-like warbling on power ballads ("I Can Feel a Hot One") to breathless emo-wailing on anthems like "I've Got Friends." Similar contrasts appear in the album's lyricism: After Hull sings "I am the only son of a preacher I know/ Who does the things I do" in the opening lines of the speedy title track, subject matter then runs the gamut from religious redemption ("The River") to not-so-holy mentions of drug habits ("One Hundred Dollars"). The unabashed emotion in their all-out approach will surely appeal to fans of raw yet sentimental Southern rock, Weezer and Modest Mouse followers, and angst-ridden teens.

~ Lindsay Talbot, Boston Globe

Regina Spektor

WEEKEND VIDEO

Regina Spektor
"Laughing With"
Far
2009
iTunes

Regina Spektor writes music just for me. Well, okay, maybe for you, too. But when I listen to her music, it sure seems as if she's singing in my ear and telling me stories filled with poetic twists and turns that are provocative, and that hang in my thoughts like a good melody.

"No one laughs at God / When their airplane starts to uncontrollably shake / No one's laughing at God / When they see the one they love, hand in hand with someone else / And they hope that they're mistaken" — "Laughing With"

Those are lines from Spektor's new record, Far, which uses four different producers in multiple locations. That sort of thing can make a record a mess, but that didn't happen with Far. Her work with Jeff Lynne (ELO, the Traveling Wilburys), David Kahne (Paul McCartney, the Strokes), Garret "Jacknife" Lee (R.E.M., Weezer) and Mike Elizondo (Dr. Dre, Eminem) is cohesive and sharp. And, though there are different production styles on the record, they never overwhelm the melodies or the delightful lilt and phrasing that makes a Regina Spektor song what it is. These are songs that can feel as much akin to Ella Fitzgerald as they do to Bjork, and as much akin to Paul McCartney as they do to Edith Piaf.

This is a record worth putting on repeat. Far feels simple on its surface, but the secrets and the fun lie just underneath.

~ Bob Boilen, NPR

Metric

"Help I'm Alive"
from the album Fantasies
2009
iTunes



Unless you live in Canada and have had the pleasure of attending some of their frequent live shows, chances are it has been a while since you've heard from Metric. Their last album, 2005's Live It Out (assuming you don't count the 2007 long-delayed release of their previously unreleased/scrapped debut Grow Up and Blow Away — which I do not), was a dense, moody exercise in post-rock subtleties partnered with melodic pop declarations. A natural departure from that album's predecessor (Old World Underground, Where Are You Now?), it remains a watershed moment for a band that loves to play with expectations as much as it strives to exceed them.

Born to be a front woman, Emily Haines (who also moonlights as a charter member of the original Canadian all-stars Broken Social Scene) brings a sinister sexuality to Metric that is at once confident, whimsical, and potentially devastating. If her playful harmonies aren't offsetting her stark posturing, then her stark posturing is offsetting her playful harmonies. Her 2006 solo debut as Emily Haines & the Soft Skeleton, Knives Don't Have Your Back, built upon that foundation with a lively and engaging personal testament of both malaise and genuine honesty.

Now, Metric have returned from a brief hiatus with Fantasies. Half an art-rock opus, half a post-pop frolic, Fantasies finds Metric and their illustrious front woman at a pivotal moment in their career. "If I stumble / They're gonna eat me alive," Haines confesses on album opener "Help, I'm Alive." The LP follows suit with this type of self-effacing frankness, but goes a long way in not abandoning its more labored pathos.

Probably the most personal album in Metric's catalogue, Fantasies takes on the more virulent but worthwhile dangers apparent within the act of actually aspiring towards something grand. As per usual, danceable downbeats and digitized dance-punk riffing play out underneath a silky but precocious vocal, and you've got the makings of a good Metric record. However, on Fantasies, they use these familiar elements to tell a unique, and more intimate story than usual. It's not that Metric have not been personal before, but there is a level of vulnerability without even the appearance of weakness that's reached on Fantasies which is ultimately compelling, if not slightly off-putting.

It's a little unfortunate that the sonic assault present on previous Metric albums (and the first third of Fantasies) couldn't have been used more to its advantage. The quiet back portion of Fantasies, in particular, is poorly integrated with the rest of the album. Songs like "Collect Call," "Front Row," and 'Blindness" are actually fine, fine tracks. But their placement on the album speaks less to a subtle, deconstructed ending, as much as they do to running out of gas; which is a shame, because this LP is beautifully conceptualized, but, if it has a fault, it's that it is slightly underwhelming in its presentation. If you were to listen to Live It Out and Fantasies back-to-back, you'll find that the latter does have a particularly reigned in feel to it, and, perhaps, a more lenient mindset when it comes to letting pop melodies prevail over the steely rawness that can sometimes come out when Metric really decide to show their teeth.

Nit picks aside, however, Fantasies finds Metric displaying a progression and maturity that comes as easy to them as swagger and general smarminess comes to most groups in their position. It's not an out and out masterwork — the more you listen, the more you spot some of the weaker portions and broad miscalculations—but it may be as close as Metric have come to such a thing. We may be only one album away from Metric finally finding that old world underground, and making it their own.

~ Daniel Rivera, Popmatters

Blur

A FAVORITE FROM 15 YEARS AGO

"Girls & Boys"
from the album Parklife
Original release date: June 14, 1994
iTunes

Modern Life is Rubbish established Blur as the heir to the archly British pop of the Kinks, the Small Faces, and the Jam, but its follow-up, Parklife, revealed the depth of that transformation. Relying more heavily on Ray Davies' seriocomic social commentary, as well as new wave, Parklife runs through the entire history of post-British Invasion Britpop in the course of 16 songs, touching on psychedelia, synth pop, disco, punk, and music hall along the way. Damon Albarn intended these songs to form a sketch of British life in the mid-'90s, and it's startling how close he came to his goal; not only did the bouncy, disco-fied "Girls & Boys" and singalong chant "Parklife" become anthems in the U.K., but they inaugurated a new era of Britpop and lad culture, where British youth celebrated their country and traditions. The legions of jangly, melodic bands that followed in the wake of Parklife revealed how much more complex Blur's vision was. Not only was their music precisely detailed — sound effects and brilliant guitar lines pop up all over the record — but the melodies elegantly interweaved with the chords, as in the graceful, heartbreaking "Badhead." Surprisingly, Albarn, for all of his cold, dispassionate wit, demonstrates compassion that gives these songs three dimensions, as on the pathos-laden "End of a Century," the melancholy Walker Brothers tribute "To the End," and the swirling, epic closer, "This is a Low." For all of its celebration of tradition, Parklife is a thoroughly modern record in that it bends genres and is self-referential (the mod anthem of the title track is voiced by none other than Phil Daniels, the star of Quadrophenia). And, by tying the past and the present together, Blur articulated the mid-'90s zeitgeist and produced an epoch-defining record.

~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, allmusic

Tiny Animals

"All the Way Down"
from the album Sweet Sweetness
2009
iTunes



The Tiny Animals are an interesting mix of early-1980s modern rock and the earnest power-pop of '90s alternative rockers like Green Day. It's as if the biggest anthems of the '90s were reworked for an unmade '80s John Hughes movie, but suddenly found themselves smack dab in 2009. Ballads like "All the Way Down" recall the best of the Cars — if they had been influenced by the Strokes instead of the other way around. That bassackwards approach seems to suit this band well, though, as the Tiny Animals stick out as anachronistic sore thumbs in the last part of this decade. Despite the bubbling energy of each track and the buzzing guitars, these guys seem like they'd rather be chasing a New Wave muse rather than those of their emo brethren. The cover of Devo's "Freedom of Choice" pretty much seals the deal on these guys and their '80s fixations, leaving no doubt that this band would prefer to live in a time of their own. Lucky for them, songs like "Goodbye, July" are timeless.

~ Sean-Michael Yoder, LimeWire Store

Blind Pilot

"One Red Thread"
from the album 3 Rounds and a Sound
2008
iTunes



Blind Pilot plays with opener Local Natives at the High Noon Saloon in Madison tonight, Tuesday, June 16 at 7 PM. Ticket information is available here. Highly recommended.

Portland folk-pop band Blind Pilot isn't interested in the traditional rock 'n' roll life of tour buses and groupies. Its members would rather schlep their gear behind their bicycles and pedal from gig to gig, like they did last year on a tour down the length of the West Coast on Highway 1.

Problem is, the band is getting too popular for bicycle tours. Last year, its debut album, 3 Rounds and a Sound, garnered critical praise for its sophisticated but earthy Americana sound. This spring, Blind Pilot opened for Counting Crows in the U.K. and Ireland, and this summer, it's tagging along for a few dates with fellow Portlanders the Decemberists, including their recent show in Milwaukee.

The band has likewise grown. Originally just Israel Nebeker (guitar, vocals) and Ryan Dubrowski (drums), the current six-piece ensemble plays upright bass, banjo, vibraphone, keys, trumpet and other instruments as it strikes its fancy.

Before Blind Pilot plays an (early) gig at the High Noon tonight, Nebeker filled 77 Square in on his songwriting process and why he likes Madison.

Why did you and Ryan decide to expand the band?
When we recorded 3 Rounds and a Sound, we went in with the intent of just making a really simple, clean, straightforward record. Just drums, vocals, guitar. The more we listened to the songs, the more that we heard other instruments and decided to try out new things. The first person we brought in was (multi-instrumentalist) Kati (Claborn). She brought in a mountain dulcimer. I had always been wanting a wispy string instrument sound. I didn't even know what a mountain dulcimer was when she started playing. It was amazing that it worked so well. Some things just seemed to lock in.

What's the story behind the character Jojo in the song "The Story I Heard"?
I was waiting at a bus stop in Portland, and a guy came up to me and was asking for spare change. I couldn't help him, but I ended up talking with him for a long while. His name was Jojo. He's from Jamaica. He was obviously in a rough spot in his life but shined as a person, and had something about him that was really intriguing and admirable. It was a really fun experience. By the end, he had me singing Bobby McFerrin with him at the top of our lungs in this Portland bus stop. That's where the song started. It got me thinking about the way that I judge people and the way that we all are judged.

I finished it when Ryan and I moved out to Astoria (Ore.) from Portland. We were living in a cannery building out there. I remember walking on the tracks, and most of the lines of the chorus came during that walk.

You were walking on train tracks while you composed the song?
Yeah. The tracks went all along the Columbia River. I would just pick a rail and walk on the rail. Something about the balancing took my mind off the worries enough to let words come. I walked for miles like that.

What have your experiences been like in Madison?
Our last show in Madison was at the Orpheum. It was, like, a tragedy of a sound system. There was a 10-minute silence where they couldn't get the guitar turned back on. We just had to sit there and plead with the audience not to leave or get mad. The crowd was awesome, and everybody we met in Madison was so cool. It was a really nice city. I didn't know anything about it, and it reminded me a lot of the college town where Ryan and I went to school — in Eugene, Ore. But sort of a better, cleaner Eugene.

~ Katjusa Cisar, 77square.com

Local Natives

"World News"
from the album Gorilla Manor
2009



Local Natives open for Blind Pilot at the High Noon Saloon in Madison tomorrow night, Tuesday, June 16 at 7 PM. Ticket information is available here. Highly recommended.

Local Natives are almost too good to be true. Whether by default or design — and they would have to be pretty calculating to have planned it — they have qualities in common with three of the most highly acclaimed American bands of the last few years. They have the rhythmic lightness of Vampire Weekend, the hippie-barbershop harmonies of Fleet Foxes, and the sense of the stately and dramatic, elegiac and epic that you get from the music of Arcade Fire. This means that sometimes you might consider Local Natives (is that a tautology or are they just pleased to see us?) to be a little pat, their songs almost too conveniently contemporary in the way that they tick all the boxes; or you might simply be grateful that you're getting the best of three great bands in one neat — hairy, bearded — package.

The latter view seems to have been the one held by attendees of the recent SXSW, many of whom judged Local Natives, who used to be called Cavil at Rest, to have been one of the hits of the festival, if not the hit. This must have been good news for the band, who are currently unsigned and share a house in Silverlake, Los Angeles; a situation that probably won't continue for much longer, unless they like being permanently at close quarters. They sound as though they do, so impressively do their voices merge, achieving a warm intimacy, or do we mean intimate warmth (hey, we can do tautologies, too). They call themselves a vocal group, not a guitar band, and apparently spend more time arranging their harmonies than anything else, and you get the impression that Rice, Ayer, and Hahn all could be lead singers in their own right. But they don't neglect the songcraft: songs such as "Airplanes" are immediately likeable albeit quite intricately constructed, with dips and dives and shifts of tempo, but they generally build towards an indie-orchestral climax whose message would appear to be: life is complicated but joyous! They even manage to make Talking Heads' "Warning Sign" sound like a jolly prayer. And if you happen to divine a little contrivance and feel as though you are being pushed towards certain emotions by five particularly intelligent young musicians, then maybe that's just a tribute to their proficiency and powers of persuasion, to their skill and control.

~ Paul Lester, Guardian.co.uk

Animal Collective

WEEKEND VIDEO

Animal Collective
"Summertime Clothes"
Merriweather Post Pavilion
2009
iTunes

A waterlogged sample of a voice croaking, "You can dance" opens Animal Collective's ninth album, and it's a sign of what's to come, even if the trio take their time before dropping a beat. Two-plus minutes of woozy ambience waft by as singer Avey Tare wishes, "If I could just leave my body for a night." Then, suddenly, the dam bursts and "In the Flowers" floods the senses with rib-rattling bass and a giant 4/4 thump that could be transmitting from a Berlin superclub.


From that point forward, these stalwart innovators — David "Avey Tare" Portner (guitar, samples), Noah "Panda Bear" Lennox (drums, vocals, samples), and Brian "Geologist" Weitz (electronics, samples), now scattered among New York, Portugal, and Washington, D.C., respectively — elude all experimental-noise, freak-folk, and indie-rock tags, and create a startling, pounding, effulgent sonic template. Somewhat incongruently, the album's title name-checks the Maryland venue where the Grateful Dead and others of their ilk often played during these high-school friends' tween years. But while jamming is certainly not Animal Collective's forte, their sound now recalls the Dead's quest for ecstatic release.

Call it searching for the perfect peak. Merriweather plays like the summation of a long, strange trip, combining the group's career touchstones: harmonic Beach Boys pop, African tribal chants, minimalism, minimal techno, psychedelia, and dub. Which is a bit of a jolt, since in 2007, it seemed as though the band members were heading down different paths. Critics split over Avey Tare's and Panda Bear's solo albums (disdain for the former's inscrutable Pullhair Rubeye with wife Kria Brekkan; universal praise for the latter's heartfelt Person Pitch). Then last year's Animal Collective album, the uneven Strawberry Jam, reaffirmed that divide — Panda played the winsome boy next door, and Avey his screechy, cantankerous foil.

Here, on songs such as "Bluish" and "Lion in a Coma," Avey smooths out that spikiness, revealing his sweeter side. On the delirious "Summertime Clothes," he details the pleasures of strolling the hot, garbage-filled New York City streets at night with his beloved, while Geologist piles on the incessant pulses and sonic squishes. Panda is similarly smitten on "My Girls," a beatific husband and father singing that he only wants "a proper house" for his "girls."

In years past, Animal Collective have been cast as perpetual Peter Pans, forever stuck in childhood fantasias. But beneath the body-moving throbs and coruscating noises of Merriweather Post Pavilion, themes of domestic duty and devotion abound. On the resplendent closer, "Brother Sport," Panda consoles his older brother after their father's death, advising him to follow his own voice. As the beat grows increasingly joyous, the song sends a message to family and fans alike: "Open up your throat," sings Panda, and rave on.

~ Andy Beta, Spin

The Killers

WEEKEND VIDEO / A FAVORITE FROM FIVE YEARS AGO

The Killers
"Somebody Told Me"
Hot Fuss
Original release date: June 15, 2004
iTunes

July 8, 2004:
Don't be fooled by their retro threads and the the in their name: The Killers threaten to pry dance rock from the steely grip of hipsterdom and thrust it unrepentantly into the mainstream. The Rapture are artier, and Franz Ferdinand are more, well, Scottish, but this Las Vegas band has actual pop songs — in spades. A nightclub anthem in the making, the acid-tongued "Somebody Told Me" blasts into outer space on a wave of synthesizers and singer Brandon Flowers' cheeky chorus: "Somebody told me you had a boyfriend / Who looked like a girlfriend / That I had in February of last year." "Jenny Was a Friend of Mine" comes on like classic Duran Duran, all snaking bass lines and Flowers' elegantly wasted vocals — part ironic detachment, part fake-British-accent, part throat-shredding wail. This album is all Killers, no filler.

~ Jenny Eliscu, Rolling Stone

Dirty Projectors

"Stillness is the Move"
from the album Bitte Orca
2009
iTunes



Dirty Projectors' David Longstreth has always had an air of pretension befitting a Yale musical-composition major; he uses his scratchy, soukous-style guitar playing and nervous warble (pitched somewhere between Arthur Russell vulnerability and David Byrne paranoia) in service of high concepts like The Getty Address' bizarre, Don Henley-starring folktale and Rise Above's Black Flag "re-imagining." But Bitte Orca suggests that school is finally out for summer: "Look around at everyone / Everyone looks alive and waiting," Longstreth sings over the loping, sun-dappled groove of the opener, "Cannibal Resource," as close to a throw-your-hands-in-the-air moment as the band has ever produced — until "Stillness is the Move," of course. With its nodding R&B beat and Amber Coffman's melismatic vocals, that breakout waiting to happen is but one "all the single ladies" shout-out away from being a Hot 97 jam. Over nine indispensable tracks, Bitte Orca forges a more perfect union between eccentricity and accessibility: The pop crescendos of "Temecula Sunrise" filter through what feels like ten different time signatures; the warped electro pulse of "Useful Chamber" dissolves into finger-picked introspection before exploding in noise-rock abandon; restless guitar skitters, and esoteric Nico references add anxiety to the heart-stilling balladry of "No Intention" and "Two Doves," respectively. Much ink will likely be spilled on 2009 being the year that Brooklyn's experimental class finally went "pop," and — with apologies to Animal Collective and Grizzly Bear — it'd be hard to find a better thesis statement.

~ Sean O'Neal, A.V. Club

!!!

A FAVORITE FROM FIVE YEARS AGO

"Hello? Is This Thing On?"
from the album Louden Up Now
Original release date: June 8, 2004
iTunes



June 7, 2004:
Like a group of unhinged parade marshals making eyes at the crowd around them, !!! dodders and shakes on Louden Up Now, an album that nails both the balance and the imbalance promised by any true fusion of rock and dance music. The band (which answers to "chk-chk-chk") shares a lot with countless peers running rat-a-tat rhythms through rock scaffolds, but no other group oozes as much attitude about its disco-minded provenance.

That swagger is sure to turn off as many as it turns on, but past all the flag-waving, Louden Up Now proves moving in more ways than one. Opening with a clacking ladder of drum sounds, "When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Get Karazzee" catalogs all the album's ingredients: bulbous basslines, cascading cymbals, moody horns, dubby echo, and vocals that sound both impassioned and incidental. In the mouth of Nic Offer, lines like "you could learn a lot by taking your pants off" hover somewhere between a command and a punchline. As a frontman, Offer traffics in mumbles and screams, lurking in the background before lashing out behind such lines as "u can tell the President 2 suck my fucking dick!" The band behind him sounds more concerned with the mandates of groove. On "Dear Can," the group's six other player-programmers bounce guitars and saxophones off a repetitive march beat. "King's Weed" leers back at the post-punk '80s with a dub fit, before "Hello? Is This Thing On?" cranks the bass and guitar for a little punk-funk bash.

Mixed with help from house-music weirdo Maurice Fulton, Louden Up Now sounds spacious even in its dank corners. Most of the songs play like suites, shifting through spells of excess and restraint that take their time to take effect. The two-part "Shit Scheisse Merde" moves through slinky slow parts and simmering fast parts with perfect patience. It never crests, but "Me and Giuliani Down By the Schoolyard (A True Story)" does: Trading in cowbells, thumb-slapped bass, echo guitar, and hi-hats hung out to dry, the single caps an album that gives the retro-minded dance-rock scene a new classic of its own.

~ Andy Battaglia, The A.V. Club

Discovery

"Orange Shirt"
from the album LP
2009
iTunes



For the uninitiated: Vampire Weekend is that devilishly catchy Afropop-meets-indie-rock band that the indie world crammed down your throat throughout 2008. Ra Ra Riot is the band that's currently out supporting Death Cab for Cutie and sounds kinda like Vampire Weekend with an added touch of Arcade Fire bombast. Turns out the two bands are chummy. And before collegiate music mavens even thought to ask for it, there's now a clever collaboration between the two.

Discovery is the name of a new side project featuring Vampire Weekend multi-instrumentalist/vocalist Rostam Batmanglij and Ra Ra Riot singer Wes Miles. With a debut album called LP due from XL Recordings on July 7, the duo was conceived as a way for its members to indulge their love for heavy synths, 808 drum beats, and fake handclaps — all of which might feel a bit out of place in their primary outfits.

That goal is pretty well met by the single "Orange Shirt," now available for free download. The cheeky mid-tempo jam matches a slick patchwork of retro programming and current R&B phrasing with lyrics that reference current technology ("Every text I get from you is so, so serious" and "Google yourself when you get home"). Indie-geek track of the summer? Judge for yourself.

~ James Diers, A.V. Club

A.C. Newman

A FAVORITE FROM FIVE YEARS AGO

"Miracle Drug"
from the album The Slow Wonder
Original release date: June 8, 2004
iTunes



August 6, 2004:
It's been a good run lately for A.C. Newman and his cohorts. His supergroup the New Pornographers' last release, Electric Version, contained some great rock 'n' roll moments, largely due to Newman's songwriting. Other Pornographers (Dan Bejar's Destroyer and Neko Case) have had success with their less collaborative endeavors, so it's probably time that Newman got his own record out. With The Slow Wonder, he's set the standard for his group's solo projects.

In "The Battle for Straight Time," Newman sings, "The revolution has been left to chance." The sentiment is intriguing, largely because it's one of the most incongruous lines on the album. Newman's writing leaves nothing to chance; each track finds its structure built around catchy hooks and memorable choruses, and with its longest song clocking in around four minutes, The Slow Wonder carries no excessive notes. That said, Newman's not intending this disc to be a revolution. His songs fit perfectly in the guitar-pop tradition. You indie kids won't find any experiments here, but you will find some great tunes. Newman doesn't rely on allusive performance or a retro-sound or the latest craze. He just does his straightforward rockin' thing, and it works well.

The album opens the steady drumming and memorable riff of "Miracle Drug." The track manages to sound like everything you've heard on the radio in the last 25 years, and yet completely its own. There's some tasteful synth work and a classic-rock guitar solo. It cuts off quickly, and the slower, largely acoustic work of "Drink to Me, Babe, Then" starts up. Newman's shifted gears so smoothly that his passengers haven't noticed that he's on different terrain.

With the possible exception of "Miracle Drug," "Secretarial" stands as the catchiest song on the album. It's got a '60s vibe, but it never feels like a retread, and maybe that's why Newman's insisting that you "can't take the map." It's not quite clear or important what he's getting with his lyrics; "Secretarial" is car-windows-down song, and you can make a note of it.

Not much on The Slow Wonder shoots for the heartstrings, but "Come Crash" goes right after them. Avoiding maudlin expression, Newman hits more deeply by exploring the tension of two friends unable to find romance with each other, and feeling the injustice of it. Christine, the woman in the story, sings, "I should be sleeping in your bed / Instead, I'll crash on your floor." A second listen makes the chorus more painful: "Christine, come crash on my floor" changes from an offer to a plea, but this time we know the end of the story. In the midst of a collection of head-bobbing pop, this song finds its spot perfectly. ("The Cloud Prayer," with its heavy drumming, is a bit less successful and more tuned to melodrama.)

While it's delivered splendidly, The Slow Wonder doesn't succeed as well as an album as its songs do as individual parts. A full listen gives you plenty of enjoyable moments, and it will just about guarantee you a song to keep stuck in your head. However, Newman doesn't deliver a great statement. His album lacks an over-arching theme, and it doesn't quite come off as a mood piece. The Slow Wonder is the type of album that I suspect will get many spins without anyone thinking of it as a desert-island disc.

Of course, criticizing an album my saying it's not an emotional must-have is like criticizing a party for not being a lovers' walk on the beach. Sometimes you need company to just get crazy with, and any big moments you get through the shouted conversations are just a bonus. Newman's just the DJ at your party, and he doesn't often let on that he knows the way to the shore. Enjoy yourself knowing if you can't drive home, at least there's a spot on the floor for you.

~ Justin Cober-Lake, PopMatters

Jeff Hanson

JEFF HANSON: 1978-2009

"Hiding Behind the Moon"
from the album Son
2003
iTunes



Jeff Hanson, the 31-year-old singer-songwriter signed to the influential Kill Rock Stars label, was found dead this weekend in his house in St. Paul, Minnesota. The Minneapolis Star-Tribune is reporting that he "likely died from a fall or other accident."

Originally from Milwaukee, Hanson had lived in Minnesota for many years and had just recently moved into a new house in the Twin City.

Compared to former label-mate Elliott Smith, Hanson was uniquely known across much of America because of his haunting falsetto voice that was often mistaken for that of a woman. Hanson was signed to Kill Rock Stars in 2003, believed to be the first artist signed to the label based on an unsolicited demo. He often joked that the only reason Kill Rock Stars wanted to meet with him was because they wanted to see if he really sang like that.

He released three albums: Son in 2003, a self-titled record in 2005, and his most recent, Madam Owl, in August 2008.

Kill Rock Stars put out the following statement: "Jeff Hanson was an amazing artist, a riotously funny person, and a good friend. Everyone at Kill Rock Stars feels that we were privileged to put out his records. We will miss him tremendously. Our thoughts are with his family and friends at this time".

~ Gavin Riley, Strangeglue

Stone Temple Pilots

WEEKEND VIDEO / A FAVORITE FROM 15 YEARS AGO

Stone Temple Pilots
"Interstate Love Song"
Purple
Original release date: June 7, 1994
iTunes

Stone Temple Pilots had hits with Core, but they got no respect. They suffered a barrage of savage criticism and it must have hurt, since their second effort seems a conscious effort to distinguish themselves as a band not indebted to grunge. That didn't get them anywhere, as they were attacked as viciously as before, but Purple is nevertheless a quantum leap over their debut, showcasing a band hitting its stride. They still aren't much for consistency, and there's more than a fair share of filler over this album's "12 Gracious Melodies." Still, this filler isn't cut-rate grunge, as it was on the debut; it has its own character, heavily melodic and slightly psychedelic. That's a fair assessment of the hits, as well, but there's a difference there — namely, expert song and studiocraft. Yes, they were considerably more mainstream than their peers, but time has proven that that's their primary charm, since they were unafraid to temper their grunge with big arena hooks and swirling melodies. It works particularly well on the tight, concise "Vasoline" and the acoustic-based "Pretty Penny," but it really shines on the record's two masterpieces, "Big Empty" and "Interstate Love Song." "Big Empty" is ominous and foreboding, yet remains anthemic, a perfect encapsulation of mainstream alienation that is surpassed only by "Interstate Love Song," a concise epic as alluring as the open highway. These two songs are so good (really, mainstream hard rock didn't get better than these two cuts) that the unevenness of the rest of the record is all the more frustrating, but the filler here is better than before — and those singles are proof positive that STP was the best straight-ahead rock singles outfit of their time.

~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, allmusic

PJ Harvey

WEEKEND VIDEO / A FAVORITE FROM FIVE YEARS AGO

PJ Harvey
"The Letter"
Uh Huh Her
Original release date: June 8, 2004
iTunes

June 24, 2004:
"I can't believe that life's so complex / When I just want to sit here and watch you undress," Polly Jean Harvey sang a few years back on "This is Love," the best song on the best album of her career, Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea. After spending most of the Nineties as a mysterious, cult-building heroine, she found something like happiness on Stories. Now, after four years and a queen-size dose of bad love (or so it seems, despite Harvey's claims that her songs aren't strictly autobiographical), we find the English farm girl in blues-poet mode once again. On Uh Huh Her, she evokes disturbed, historically significant females such as Clytemnestra, Emily Dickinson, and Polly Jean Harvey.

Harvey doesn't brandish many new moves here. Raw, riff-heavy numbers such as "Who the Fuck?" and "The Letter" revisit her more punkish early days, and "It's You" and the delicately atmospheric "You Come Through" recall the slow-burning metaphysical turn she took with 1995's To Bring You My Love. But having reaffirmed her DIY instincts (Harvey produced the album and played everything except drums), she packed Uh Huh Her with moments of austere beauty, straight-ahead melancholia and more tenderness than ever. She compares a lover's words to poison ("The Life and Death of Mr. Badmouth"), imagines good times ("You Come Through") and brandishes a knife to thwart off marriage (the magnificently creepy "The Pocket Knife"). On the murky, resigned closer "The Darker Days of Me and Him," Harvey dreams of a land with "no neurosis / No psychosis / No psychoanalysis / And no sadness." But darkness is still Harvey's métier, and she can dive into personal dramas that would make lesser talents sound silly.

~ Christian Hoard, Rolling Stone

Fanfarlo

"Finish Line"
from the album Reservoir
2009
iTunes



"'The British Arcade Fire" is a label that Fanfarlo are likely becoming sick of, so often is it applied to their chamber pop magnificence. Yet for all the similarities, these tunes are so finely crafted and coloured that they stand every chance of independent accolade. With Swede Simon Balthazer at the helm, this enthusiastic, winsome pop draws as much inspiration from his compatriots Jens Lekman and the Concretes as it does Win Butler's troupe, and still manages to build a bubble of individuality around the whole thing. Every track ceaselessly builds and falls with undulating care, stuffed tightly with strings, glockenspiels, clustered pianos and churning basslines. During "I'm a Pilot," as Balthazar sings, fit to burst, "If I stay in this room / they'll remember for my youth", and their message becomes clear. They may not have arrived at this sound first, but they make a fine job of it.

~ Jamie Scott, The Skinny

Portugal. The Man

"People Say"
from the album The Satanic Satanist
2009
iTunes



Portugal. The Man, with atypical behavior the norm, recorded their soon-to-be-released fourth full-length album, The Satanic Satanist (out July 21 via the band's own Approaching AIRBallons imprint) in what was a very different way for them.

Rather than wait until they arrived in the recording studio to think about new material, the band — Gourley, Zachary Scott Carothers/bass, Ryan Neighbors/keyboards, and the drummer for the album, Garrett Lunceford — gave pre-production a shot, writing and rehearsing new songs long before they pressed "record." And, if that wasn't enough, the band further stepped outside of their comfort zone of recording near home and working only with long-time friends by enlisting the production team of Paul Q. Kolderie, whose previous clients include both the Pixies and Radiohead, Adam Taylor (the Lemonheads, The Dresden Dolls), and Cornershop sitarist/keyboardist Anthony Saffery, and flying to their Boston Camp Town Studios to record.

"I was terrified," Gourley confesses with a laugh. "We've only worked with friends, you know? It's always been people we knew really well. And this time around, we were working with Paul, Anthony and Adam who have all been involved in very successful projects. So we wanted to do what they would have expected us to do rather than just throw something out there. And actually, it felt so much better doing it that way."

That said, The Satanic Satanist is still unmistakably Portugal. The Man, as the group has returned to working with loops and samples once more, certainly the most they have since their 2006 debut, Waiter: "You Vultures!". "We played all the songs live to begin with," Gourley recalls, "then went back and tweaked them. But I've always loved loops and samples. I think they have such a cool vibe and such a specific sound that you can only get from sampling. You can't get those sounds from real drums. We just hadn't had the chance because we'd been touring so much and I guess Church Mouth [Portugal. The Man's sophomore effort] needed to be that stripped-down record coming off of Waiter, when we realized that we couldn't do the samples live. And recording Censored Colors was done with Kay Kay [and his Weathered Underground], so it didn't make sense to be messing with loops when we had so many real instruments lying around the place."

An album chockfull of standouts, The Satanic Satanist's lead-off track, "People Say," finds Gourley speaking out against the human cost of war, "Lovers in Love" sees the band working the groove like Isaac Hayes or Curtis Mayfield in their blaxploitation days, while "Work All Day" could pass for ?uestlove slowing down the beat to "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise)."

For keyboardist Neighbors, as much of a departure as this album represents, it still feels like it's part of a continuum with everything they've done. "The songs all just kind of work together," he says. "They all have that Portugal sound even though the ideas themselves can be drastically different. It's all still Portuguese."

With the release of The Satanic Satanist approaching, Gourley is looking forward to joining his band mates on the road, which will include the band's first-time major festival appearance when they play Bonnaroo this month. "We could have eight hours a day of practice in a practice space and I don't think it compares to the 45-minutes to an hour and a half we get a night out on tour."

~ antimusic.com/

Andrew Bird

"Oh No"
from the album Noble Beast
2009
iTunes



It's fairly recognizable what constitutes an Andrew Bird album at this point: acoustic ensembles, whistling, violin loops, Bird's quivering tenor, poetry and harmonies. All are present here, so if anything distinguishes Noble Beast from its predecessors, it is its seriousness. From the super-simple "Tenuousness" to the pensive instrumental intermissions "Ouo" and "Unfolding Fans," there's a constant spooky and dreamlike whir to all 14 songs. "Not a Robot, But a Ghost" is practically violent — refreshingly so, coming from Bird — with its hot tempo and distorted guitars. "Masterswarm" intermingles warm tropical guitar chords with dramatic, chilling strings. Specters of voices and orchestras linger in the background of such tracks as "The Privateers" and the upbeat "Fitz and the Dizzy Spells." With its cuteness and shimmying pace, the opener "Oh No" gets your seat in the chair, while the other tracks keep you there.

~ Katie Hasty, Billboard

Coldplay

"Clocks"
from the album Left Right Left Right Left
2009



When most of the world first met Chris Martin, he was a sad dude wandering around a beach in his windbreaker and singing about everything being yellow. If Coldplay started out as one of many earnest post-Britpop bands in the late 1990s, they've beaten the odds to become one of the biggest bands in the world, the kind whose album releases become events and whose impact reaches beyond the confines of a genre, country, or audience. Coldplay are, in short, the kind of band that can give away a live album gratis. Left Right Left Right Left is free to anyone with a ticket at their live shows and anyone with an internet connection at their web site. While I'm sure there's a suit somewhere tearing his hair out over this, it's not quite as ballsy as Prince giving away free copies of Musicology or bundling Planet Earth with the London Daily Mail. On the other hand, you might want to listen to LRLRL more than once.

Seriously, they could be selling this shit. After all, Live 2003 got a full release complete with a DVD, and it doesn't even approach the confidence and dynamics of LRLRL, which showcases a band much more comfortable and commanding on stage. All the big moments they've tried to create in the studio finally come alive on these tracks: those tectonic shifts that push opener "Glass of Water"; the mechanistic jam of "Clocks," especially when Guy Berryman re-creates the vocal melody on bass against Martin's cascades of piano notes; the communal grandiosity of "Viva la Vida". Despite a fairly conservative tracklist, LRLRL sounds like the band finally coming into its own, presenting as a live act rather than a studio band.

Much of the credit goes to the audience — those thousands of fans singing devotedly along with Martin and exploding during the big moments. Maybe that's why LRLRL is a giveaway: The crowd may be legally obligated to co-billing, especially that woman singing herself hoarse for a few notes on "The Hardest Part / Postcards from Far Away." Here's a quick before-and-after demonstration: The opening lyrics to "42" are some of his worst, and Martin alone can't save them. But hearing him sing those same inane lyrics with a couple thousand people backing him up make that mood-setting melody sound pretty good actually. LRLRL owes its life to the audience, whose handclaps give "Viva la Vida" the sense of heraldry missing from the album version and whose insistent singing on "Fix You" defuses the song's Messianic rumblings.

Of course, the crowd can't rehab all of Coldplay's material. "The Hardest Part/Postcards from Far Away" is a middling piano ballad that feints toward "Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word" territory but runs straight for Billy Joel. And ending with "Death and All His Friends," especially after "Fix You," seems particularly anticlimactic. Martin no longer has to cajole the crowd into participating, as he did on Live 2003; instead, the band seems utterly confident the audience will hang on every word and note. Even so, he does deliver some overeager stage banter. "This is the moment in the concert when we show you how good our band really could have been," he says by way of introducing drummer Will Champion, who sings the short, strummy "Death Will Never Conquer". Champion does a fine job, sounding late-Poguish and completely at ease, but Martin's comment seems little more than hollow self-deprecation, only pointing to his reputation as the band's handsome, actress-bagging, Jeff Buckley-copping frontman. And just try not to wince when he alters the lyrics to "Fix You" and renders the song self-referential: "five hundred meters from the band at the Coldplay show." You can't touch the hem of his garment from that distance, but those are still pretty good seats.

Coldplay are the biggest band in the world because they believe themselves to be, which is the kind of titanic self-actualization typically associated with salesmen and self-help books. But they are humble in their hubris: Not only do they provide a service — essentially giving listeners what they want — but in this case, they're doing it without charge. Ironically, those contradictory qualities mean the band may be wasted in a studio, Eno notwithstanding. LRLRL suggests that Coldplay songs truly live only in vast concert halls and smallish arenas, where they are performed for, and arguably by, a captivated audience.

~ Stephen M. Deusner, Pitchfork

Good Old War

"Coney Island"
from the album Only Way to Be Alone
2008
iTunes



Good Old War boast two former members of dreamy, progressive emo-pop act Days Away, an arguably underrated act who improved with every following release. Though Days Away officially parted ways last year, Only Way to Be Alone continues this quality-based upward climb.

Good Old War go a decidedly more folk-based route than Days Away, a direction likely familiar to anyone who's followed Matt Pryor's career. But because a lush, laid-back nature was an institution in Days Away's sound for so long, their moods and textures definitely persist throughout Only Way to Be Alone. The lyrics take that same direction as well, with plenty of plain-worded narratives about mere observation of the world or heartfelt admissions regarding love or relationships.

Though the band's arrangements are arguably overshadowed a bit by Anthony Green's stunning voice on his recent effort, Avalon (GOW backs him up on the disc), here they're able to shine on their own merits. Layers of pristine acoustics create a sparkling interplay, laying the groundwork for the vocals of Keith Goodwin and Tim Arnold to plead earnestly over it without overbearing, a character exemplified best on tracks like "Coney Island," "Looking for Shelter," and "Tell Me."

Elsewhere, the band offer more porch-based shuffles, but with a minimal twang to it all. On "Weak Man," they amble along on a relaxed pace, with Green actually coming in for a wonderful guest spot. "We've Come a Long Way" can be shockingly shimmering, with Goodwin's voice set to the background a little more for effect. "Window" thumps along dependent on lots of able harmonizing.

One admirable thing about the liner notes is that the band include the actual sheet music with the notes and lyrics so you can follow along properly. A neat thing for listeners and some evidence that these are proud and passionate musicians.

From the clean recording to the earthy packaging, Only Way to Be Alone is a solid, presentable debut for the Philadelphia trio, steeped in both tradition and modern styles and successful all the same.

~ Punknews.org