Maps & Atlases – Beware and Be Grateful

By , April 24, 2012 10:00 am

Maps & Atlases – Beware and Be Grateful

Barsuk 2012

Rating: 8/10

My whole experience of Maps & Atlases reads like an off-base rockumentary cliché, but anyway: I understand that Maps & Atlases are not the band they once were. This seems like an absolutely ridiculous statement to make of a band that has done little more to their sound than nuance it; the guitar tapping is still present, muffled under the song though it may be, and the experiments have just been restricted to compact boxes to move about in. The band hasn’t split itself down its side like it may seem, rather it’s just suppressed the big and the bold into the background to make room for (sure, go ahead and use the word) a “pop” song. It’s the toning down of it all, though, that makes it so criminal, and so when they nuance, they nuance hard. Maps & Atlases were once something of an imposing band, which means they were in your face and clever and they did these things to you; their second and most noted EP was aggressive and progressive, trying a whole lot at raucous speeds. Now, Maps & Atlases are a band able; namely, they are “danceable,” the band that sat around and listened to Prince a shit-tonne. Beyond the immaculate construction of their record, we do what we want with Maps & Atlases these days; the fans who claim they’ve given up on this band but for a live show are just as righteous fans as those of us who embrace this new band who made “Winter,” the band with supposedly funky choruses. Whatever the result is, I recognise the lame cliché on this one: it’s like listening to two different bands.

Cliché number two: that side of Maps & Atlases that died (by being quieter than usual) has made Maps & Atlases the band I was always hoping they would evolve into. There were moments on Perch Patchwork where a very bright light shone down: songs as showy as “Pigeon” suddenly sounded like warm home recordings, even in their cerebral nature; it felt like listening to a band making the greatest equation on how to party. Awful math rock jokes aside, there’s something of a super-group to be had of a Maps & Atlases who can make a visceral impact rather than just construct one. People have said you can dance to Beware and Be Grateful, which essentially means you can feel things as you listen to it; you can hear the patterns of the saddest moments, like Davison’s ‘I, I, I’ repeating as an endless transmission in “Remote and Dark Years.” Yes, it’s not something you need to read in a review, but Beware and Be Grateful is even more a warm, touching record than the ones made before it. As Davison loses it on the guitar-crackling “Old Ash” and lets his voice loudly preach and then crumble in a heap, a new vision of Maps & Atlases comes beaming out. It’s a passionate band standing on the top of all their wacky, wonderful architecture and caring profoundly about it.

These aren’t ferocious songs and they aren’t always playing with everything on the forefront, and it’s compelling to see that; the band has rounded up the edges of their songs and put them into the ground, so that “Fever” is as many times as complex as “Everyplace Is A House” but comes out as a song with a very conventional beauty to it: no guitar noodling, maybe, but so many little things going on within it that constitute bro-y complexity, just in a better way: so many guitar patterns and little programmed noises to be followed. Beware and Be Grateful is easy to dismiss as too easy, or not the band we once knew, but it feels to me like the band that finally found themselves saying what they want to say and in the way they want to. Which is why, chief among all clichés, I consider this somehow representative of the band as a whole, no matter how different it’s all gotten: a band showing off as a secondary objective, playing songs with immense warmth and love. We can speak of the impossibility of reconciling version one of this band to version two, but for me, Beware and Be Grateful is just a band growing. Growth, at its most disgustingly ordinary and clichéd. Heartfelt geniuses that these guys are, they sell it.

Maps & Atlases – “Silver Self”




List Price: $13.99 USD
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Release date April 17, 2012.

The Jezabels – Trycolour

By , April 23, 2012 10:00 am

Rough sledding the next couple weeks with finals (saying goodbye to my first year of law school can’t come soon enough), and a couple more reviews in the pipeline (and, hopefully, a Coachella overview). Australian buzz band the Jezabels have been on the verge of breaking through for the past year or so, with their debut LP Prisoner having been released on those shores this past September (and becoming one of my favorite albums of 2011), but it just got an American release at the beginning of April. It’s sweeping, anthemic indie rock, with shimmering guitars and stadium-worthy acoustics the order of the day (think Arcade Fire). But the standout is Hayley Mary, whose throaty vocals are the engine that keeps everything moving forward (think Florence Welch or Kate Bush).

The Jezabels – “Trycolour”




List Price: $12.98 USD
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Release date April 3, 2012.

Brendan Benson – Light of Day

By , April 19, 2012 10:00 am

Brendan Benson is releasing the digital version of his fifth studio album What Kind of World early, exclusively on his website: http://whatkindofworld.brendanbenson.com/shop. The album is now slated to drop April 21, his son’s second birthday. Benson is taking things into his own hands nowadays with his record label Readymade, and What Kind of World is defiantly Benson – power pop, with influences decades old and repurposed for a new audience, that eternally youthful voice keeping things steady. “Light of Day” is vintage Benson, with a nice double-guitar riff and the kind of sugary chorus Benson has made his trademark. If you dig it, check out first single “Bad for Me” for a slower, more lush angle.

*removed by label – check out http://brendanbenson.com/ to support the artist*

Jack White – Hip (Eponymous) Poor Boy

By , April 18, 2012 10:00 am

The much anticipated debut solo album from prolific auteur Jack White (the White Stripes, the Raconteurs, the Dead Weather, countless production credits…you get the idea) is now streaming via the iTunes store. Blunderbuss, officially out April 24, is arguably as good as advertised; just the kind of diverse, genre-hopping rock music White has made his name in, with firm roots in the blues and his distinctive guitar playing. “Hip (Eponymous) Poor Boy,” is a bit of an out-of-left-field surprise, all jangling pianos and one of the poppier melodies White has committed to record – in a way, it reminds me of the work of his partner in the Raconteurs, Brendan Benson (who has a new album coming out as well!).

Jack White – “Hip (Eponymous) Poor Boy”




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Release date April 24, 2012.

Blood Eagle – Transvestite Fistfight

By , April 13, 2012 10:00 am

From my hometown of Orlando, production duo Blood Eagle are making a name for themselves with this original mix, which is as ruthless and heavy as the method of execution the pair takes their name after (influences include: Vikings, R.L. Stine, and lasers). The two have a mutual appreciation for grindcore, and it shows in their music, which is as hard and bass-heavy as electro generally prefers to go. Show them some love on their FB page by clicking the above photo.

I’ll be in Coachella for the weekend – look for some sort of review of this crazy weekend next week. Cheers!

Blood Eagle – “Transvestite Fistfight”

Chromatics – The Page

By , April 12, 2012 10:00 am

Fresh off his success with the Drive soundtrack, producer Johnny Jewel recently released the Chromatics fourth studio album (proper U.S. release coming in May) on distinctive label Italians Do It Better, and Kill for Love maintains that nostalgic, ’80s vibe that dominated Drive and takes it to a new, M83-esque level (17 tracks that run for well over an hour). It’s a pretty incredible recreation of a certain time and sound, and similar to M83 last year, it reveres the past but creates something undeniably new and fresh with it. If you liked Drive or Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming or anything that comes out of Jewel’s mixing board, this is a must-have for 2012.

Chromatics – “The Page”

M. Ward – A Wasteland Companion

By , April 11, 2012 10:00 am

M. Ward – A Wasteland Companion

Merge 2012

Rating: 6/10

For those only familiar with Matthew Ward’s work as the Him in Zooey Deschanel’s pastiche to ‘60s pop and aw-shucks charm in She & Him, A Wasteland Companion opener “Clean Slate (For Alex & El Goodo)” is probably a bit of a curveball. Yet after years of working behind the curtain in both She & Him and with more outspoken rock revivalists Conor Oberst, Jim James and Mike Mogis in the Monsters of Folk, this is the M. Ward longtime fans will be delighted to hear – Ward’s husky, ashen voice ruminating over barely there acoustic strumming, losing itself in the simple campfire pleasures of storytelling and the barely there hiss of an AM radio. Ward’s production talents really started to shine through with his last solo effort, 2009’s Hold Time, and the aforementioned work with She & Him and his more esteemed partners in Monsters of Folk hit on familiar Ward touchstones: Brill Building pop, Chuck Berry homage, and dyed-in-the-wool ‘60s Americana. A Wasteland Companion, Ward’s seventh album, continues to touch on all of these influences at one point or another. “Clean Slate” is where Ward’s heart belongs though, resting in the shadowy period between the blues and British Invasion pop, a time when recording on more than one track was a studio trick in itself. The sparse tribute to Big Star is striking in its simplicity, and although A Wasteland Companion goes to great lengths to show Ward’s dexterity as a producer, few artists can transport a listener as easily as Ward does on “Clean Slate” with just an acoustic and that inimitable voice.

The first half of A Wasteland Companion suffers from Ward’s seeming desire to do everything at once – from the contemplative folk of “Clean Slate” he rushes into the heady “Primitive Folk,” which, with its ivory pounding and lovelorn attitude, comes off as strangely tossed off, the kind of song Ward could write in his sleep. That near flawless acoustic interlude seguing into the foreboding “Me and My Shadow,” however, is just the kind of sleight-of-hand musicianship that Ward can make seem effortless. While “Primitive Girl” and “Me and My Shadow” ostensibly seem quite different, in both tone and structure, they nevertheless hail from that same sepia-toned early ‘60s soundscape that Ward has been worshipping for years. Yet where the former arrives as a pale imitation of his best homages, “Me and My Shadow” is at times threatening and alive in a way “Primitive Girl” only hints at, something the sexy, ragged guitar mini-solo certainly contributes to.  Yet from there Ward throws in the requisite Deschanel duet (Daniel Johnston cover “Sweetheart,” which comes off as a wannabe She & Him B-side) and a strangely jaunty, incredibly out of place Louis Armstrong cover (“I Get Ideas”).

So A Wasteland Companion, at least initially, seems determined to continue the ideal of Ward as a new classicist in American pop music, deconstructing the sounds of the past and re-imagining them in the present to create something fresh. This works well with the pointedly nostalgic She & Him and the one-off mission of Monsters of Folk, but in the context of Ward’s own discography it’s unnecessary, as the second half of the record proves. Ward is still the same classicist he’s always been on a song like “The First Time I Ran Away,” a student of Guthrie and Holly and well-traveled dirt roads, but “The First Time I Ran Away” feels indubitably organic whereas “Primitive Girl” sounds like a cover. That lovely strumming, the insistent bass drum beat echoing in the background, a touch of synths – it all accentuates an atmosphere Ward painstakingly crafts to sound like all his favorite old records, yet imbues with his own feeling and straightforward lyrical narratives. The twanginess of the title track increases in direct proportion to the distant background sounds of a crowd Ward interposes over the hum of strings, and it’s nostalgic and affecting, but it touches something more primal and natural than the candy-coated pop hooks of the first half.

Ward’s disparate influences will always have a huge pull on him, along with his continually growing production experience, but the beauty in his solo work has always been his take on this lesser known tangent of Americana. Not the pop foundations he mastered and made famous with She & Him, but the shuffling acoustic ramblings of “Wild Goose” and the gospel-tinged blues worship in “Pure Joy” – the frayed, graying tones of what people first loved about rock ‘n roll, not the rose-colored hues of She & Him but the grit of country blues and the haze of static. A Wasteland Companion at first seems unsure of what it wants to be or where it wants to go, vacillating between various genre exercises rooted in a common retro theme, but by the end it reaffirms what those who’ve loved Ward’s old work have always known – there’s plenty of poignancy in just a guitar pick.

M. Ward – “Me and My Shadow (ft. Zooey Deschanel)”




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Release date April 10, 2012.

Maps & Atlases – Remote and Dark Years

By , April 10, 2012 10:00 am

Indie rock group Maps & Atlases will be releasing their second proper LP, Beware and Be Grateful next Tuesday (April 17th). The successor to 2010′s critically acclaimed Perch Patchwork, the album shows the band continuing their shift to a more pop-oriented sound, while still retaining the math-rock edge that had many music geeks salivating over the band’s potential. It’s evident in the highly accessible yet inventive “Remote and Dark Years,” where feverish drum work highlights an ever-shifting chorus; while still a band working towards an effective hook, their ability to really play their instruments helps them stand out in the indie crowd.

Maps & Atlases – “Remote and Dark Years”




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Release date April 17, 2012.

M. Ward – Pure Joy

By , April 5, 2012 10:00 am

Matt Ward’s eighth album and his first one after receiving some mainstream attention with Zooey Deschanel in She & Him, A Wasteland Companion is a tale of two Wards; the ’50s rock, retro tones that he’s mastered with She & Him, the pop influence emphasized and the production beefed up (in this respect, it’s an outgrowth from his work with Conor Oberst and Jim James in Monsters of Folk); and the whispery AM folk of his earlier work, the shadow of static drifting over everything. “Pure Joy” is an example of that latter sort, and hearkens back to some of his great past albums like 2005′s Transistor Radio. Old school, simple, and timeless.

M. Ward – “Pure Joy”




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Release date April 10, 2012.

Lost in the Trees – A Church That Fits Our Needs

By , April 4, 2012 10:00 am

Lost in the Trees – A Church That Fits Our Needs

ANTI- 2012

Rating: 8/10

While still an album obsessed with death and what may come after, A Church That Fits Our Needs is strangely hopeful even while it relates to the deepest parts of grief, a contemplation of past and present rather than a tear-stained farewell. Frontman and main creative force Ari Picker wrote this after his cancer-stricken mother killed herself shortly after his wedding in 2009, and, yes, A Church That Fits Our Needs is a hard listen. But it’s a triumphant one, celebrating the muse on the cover as often as it mourns her passing. Picker has stated that he wanted to provide his mother, an artist, “a space, in the music, to be, and to become all the things she didn’t get a chance to be when she was alive.” It’s less a funeral march than a memorial, finally arriving at the lush intersection of folk, pop and classical music that Picker has been threatening to master for years. Stuck in a sort of creative stasis with the release and re-release of his debut EP and LP over the past few years, perhaps it was this life changing event that was what Picker really needed to discover himself as his own artist. A Church That Fits Our Needs realizes all the potential that All Alone In An Empty House promised, and Picker, a Berklee College of Music graduate whose has written first orchestral work was for the North Carolina Symphony, melds all the various threads of his influences into a cohesive, heartbreaking whole.

There’s shades of the loss that permeated Arcade Fire’s Funeral here, a tinge of Radiohead’s chilly baroque arrangements, and the kind of orchestral finessing that Jonsi could appreciate; there’s also a heavy Stravinsky influence and the sweeping cinematic quality of film scorers like Nino Rota. In Picker’s arrangements, though, there’s a distinctly American quality – the sound of rushing rivers, the hushed crack of leaves in a wintry forest. The gentle finger picking and dramatic strings paint a chromatic, vivid picture in songs like the stately, melancholy “Icy River,” where Picker’s crystal clear tenor completes everything: “Icy river / put your arms around my mother / I burned her body in the furnace / till all that’s left was her glory.” Picker’s lyrics dabble in the crushingly intimate as well as the darkly fantastical – veiled lyrics about dead birds and golden eyelids, with nature imagery and archetypal discussions about heart and the hereafter predominating. It’s a soundscape that seems to revel in life rather than death, and it’s this verve and melodic enthusiasm that prevents A Church That Fits Our Needs from becoming a one-note lamentation.

Though it’s Picker’s lyrics that provide the emotional punch, it’s his superb technical skills that make A Church That Fits Our Needs so much more than a simple outpouring of grief. Picker enjoys playing around with meter, and his complex use of strings and use of fellow vocalist Emma Nadeau’s airy whisper dabbles in dissonance but always somehow manages to return to a resolving major lift. “As you close your eyes from the water / a golden light wanders with the birds / where have you been, what have you seen / all the peace when you come following / I’ll tell you it’s worth it all,” Picker sings on “Golden Eyelids,” and there’s the major key surge, an optimistic murmur, but there’s also a hidden tension in the taut, haunting strings that threaten in the background, swirling up in a gusty ostinato. For much of The Church That Fits Our Needs, there’s that struggle to find peace, to reconcile the lessons and traits he’s inherited from his mother with her untimely, senseless death. “My song can try / but there are things that songs can’t say,” Picker sings with more than a touch of sad finality on the closing lines of “Vines,” his voice close to breaking on the last couplet: “Am I hopeless? I trust you, but where are we walking to?”

It’s an appropriate theme for the record, where the loss of a loved one is not just something that can never be found again but is also an opportunity to reflect and cherish. It’s a theme that is also not necessarily resolved by the time “Vines” ends, although the harrowing gut-punch combo that is the tender ballad “This Dead Bird is Beautiful,” and the cleansing stomp of “Garden” comes closest. The former is the kind of bare acoustic piece that leaves no room for subtlety, Picker defiantly reminding himself that he’ll “always have her eyes,” while the latter picks up all the tense and pensive wonderings of the past eight songs and brings them crashing down in a cathartic wave of emotion, apocalyptic strings and percussion. It’s an exhausting listen, but what A Church That Fits Our Needs does so well is how it makes this loss palatable – the grief is real and heartfelt and sometimes overwhelming, but in its honesty and the warm instrumentation that Picker has mastered, it’s thoughtful and all too easy to get lost in. Even when there seems to be nothing left, there’s still simple beauty in life, Picker seems to say on “An Artist’s Song;” “So sing out your hymn of faith / cause I have none / your song is my armor.” It’s an odd sort of comfort, but it’s a comfort nonetheless, and if nothing else A Church That Fits Our Needs provides something to hang on to: memories. In that respect, it’s a fitting monument to Picker’s mother as she was, not how she ended, and it’s a touching, affirming milestone in his own career.

Lost in the Trees – “Golden Eyelids”




List Price: $15.98 USD
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Release date March 20, 2012.

Holy Esque – Rose

By , April 3, 2012 10:00 am

Having recently toured with Manchester hype darlings WU LYF, it’s natural to compare Scottish rockers Holy Esque with that combustible group of howling degenerates. There’s Pat Hynes’ vocals, first and foremost, which recall WU LYF’s hoarse, on-the-verge-of-breaking style but with more finesse, more control – those who liked WU LYF will probably argue that primal snarling is what made that group so great, but I like Hynes’ balancing act more. And then there’s Holy Esque’s penchant for cerebral, guitar-oriented indie, the emphasis on echoing guitars and a blood-pumping anthemic quality. Their debut EP drops April 23 – look out for big things from this Glasgow group in the near future.

Holy Esque – “Rose”

Candyland & Dirtyrock – Four Loko

By , March 30, 2012 10:00 am

I’ve mentioned Candyland on the blog before, but fellow SoCal native (Palos Verdes) DirtyRock aka Alexandre Williams is another burgeoning electro house banger savant a la Porter Robinson, Dirtyloud, and Madeon. “Four Loko” is not only a fair representation of what the two do so well but is a rather accurate musical recreation of the infamous original Four Loko – energy in spades and a blackout promise later that night.

Candyland & DirtyRock – “Four Loko”

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