by Matt Keefer

Frontman Wayne Coyne approaches the tour at his own pace.

Few could predict that an indie punk group from Oklahoma City would have such an innovative presence in the music world. At 49, Wayne Coyne and his quartet of space-a-delic freaks, including bassist Michael Ivins and drummers Steven Drozd and Kliph Scurlock, have earned a Grammy, covered Pink Floyd’s “The Dark Side of the Moon” in its entirety, and toured relentlessly across the world. Currently on tour for their first double-album Embryonic (excluding Zaireeka, their 1997 four-album experiment), the self-deprecating Coyne delivers about the not-so-glamorous side of touring, as well as about future projects.

Matt Keefer: Thanks for your time. Do you mind if I record the interview?

Wayne Coyne: Sure. I don’t expect you to write it all down and remember it. I’m not doubting your ability to remember, but, see, I just talk. It might be a lot easier for you to say, ‘Nah, that fucker goes on too long.’

M: At 27, being 49 seems like a long way to travel.

WC: I remember when I was 27, I would think about someone who’s almost 50 years old: ‘Dude, are you alright?’ I don’t ever get the feeling that I’m any different. It’s only when I look in the mirror sometimes that I think, “oh wow, I look like a weird old guy.” I don’t feel different to myself. It’s a strange phenomenon.

M: How’s your tour for Embryonic going so far?

WC: We’re never really on tour for very long. We’ll go out for maybe about ten days, play some shows, then we’ll go home for ten days… we’re always doing everything at the same time. Since we’re playing some shows in the summertime, you always run into other groups, and we ran into a group, Trombone Shorty, just last night. They’re almost into their third consecutive month of playing. That can beat you down. I already did that several times – when I was your age – and it can be such a mind-fuck, you’re so torn away from your life that you’re trying to build, the people that you knew. Like I said, I’m 49 years old, and the other guys, they’re not as old as me, but they’re not in their early 20s. I think they don’t want to be taken away from their families and their lives for that long. And you can almost go endlessly the way we’re going. You can almost never stop, because we’re going full-time. Doing the Flaming Lips tour is kind of like working at Target: it just kinda is. It’s not too hard, you just get up and go to work.

M: I know some musicians that have kids, and touring must be rough on them.

WC: Especially for musicians. The reason I say musicians is that they have a sensitivity about them, or they probably wouldn’t like music. And all these things that play into human dramas and emotions are just a little bit more, either enjoyable, or a little bit more painful. Sometimes I think groups try to say ‘we’re going to play for six months straight,’ and then take three years off. You know, that’s easy to say, but a lot of things happen to people in six months that you cannot reverse. Especially if you have young children. Six months, they’ll be completely different little creatures by then. We don’t want that. We want to make our music, do our performances, do all these things because we love what we do, not put one thing that we love on hold so we can have another. We want to have it all at the same time.

M: On the positive aspect of that, do you have any good tour stories?

WC: (Laughs) I don’t know, a lot of times there’s not that much crazy shit going on. When we played at Bonnaroo about a month ago, you play into the night pretty long, and there’s a lot of young people there that are doing drugs and stuff. So those [gigs] always play more into the good old rock and roll stories. After we got done, it was about ten minutes after three in the morning, I went over to the LCD Soundsystem stage, where they had just started their set – and I sort of Tweeted about it the day afterward – but this big, naked guy sort of attacked the stage.  Me and, what’s this comedian’s name, Aziz Ansari? – this giant, freaked-out naked guy, had to be doing some acid or something, simply attacked the stage, and we sort of had to hold him down until the security guards could take him away. It was a very strange, charged moment, where that doesn’t happen to you every day. You know, where you’re suddenly assailed by a 300-pound, naked guy, and he’s all sweaty and he’s drenched. That’s probably the last phenomenal rock-and-roll moment that happened to us.

M: I guess at that moment you’re glad that you pump iron five times a week.

WC: I don’t do that much, but I do yoga almost every day. So, yeah, you’re glad that you have energy and you can react and you don’t feel intimidated. I know you’re saying that jokingly, but I mean it. To be in a group, and to do all these things; you wouldn’t want to do it if you don’t have a lot of enthusiasm. So yeah, I jumped right to task. We didn’t really want to. The guy was very strong but he was pretty slippery, because he was so sweaty. The slipperiness made it impossible to grab him. It’s a good trick. If you’re ever going to run from the cops, strip yourself naked and be slippery.

M: Sure. I should probably carry some cans of grease, too.

WC: (Pauses) Then their only solution is to tase you.

M: You’ve also toured Europe and around the world. Any places you’ve enjoyed outside of the US?

WC: It’s all pretty great when you’re a group like the Flaming Lips. Most everywhere that we would go nowadays, we’re invited to play by a group of enthusiastic ‘freaks.’ We just recently went to Croatia, and we played the Glastonbury Festival (in UK) and got to see Snoop Dogg, meet Mick Jones from the Clash. Hang out with Damien Hirst. There’s a lot of great things that can happen to you simply because you’re just traveling the world all the time. But the other side of it is that you spend a lot of time in airports and on airplanes. Sometimes you get done playing at two-o-clock in the morning, and you have to get to the airport at four-o-clock in the morning. Running from one show to the next, everything is ‘hurry hurry hurry’ all the time. Sometimes I think it’s too many experiences. It’d be like having to eat twenty meals in one day. There’s just no way you can enjoy all the things that are happening.

M: Do you have anything new on the horizon?

WC: We’re always – I don’t know if ‘contemplating’ is the right word – but you’re always considering new musical ideas, new things that you want to play into. We’re always doing little movies and little videos. I just shot an ending of a video for a song on Embryonic called “See the Leaves”. We were shooting this guy on the north side of Oklahoma City who has a big acreage where he’s burning a bunch of his brush that he had chopped down. So we saw this giant fucking bonfire. We shot for an ongoing piece in our storyboard there. So it’s always a kind of combination of everything: new music, and new movies, new videos, new things for our website, new toys, new t-shirts. Everything is a Flaming Lips creation. The great range of things that you can do readjusts your focus on music.

M: Last question: Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs made a brief appearance as a frog on Embryonic.  Would you consider a fuller collaboration with her?

WC: These are definitely collaborations of a sort. I don’t know. For me, I’m more comfortable doing these types of collaborations, where I have the song written, and I have the arrangement, and I just simply call Karen and say ‘All you have to do is be you, and I’ll do all the work.’ A lot of artists don’t really want to collaborate in the sense that people think they do. The art is a lot of times just made very intensely. You simply say, ‘I like this and I don’t care what you think.’ That is in a lot of ways how art is made. And when you’re collaborating with someone that you love and admire, the way that I was working with Karen O, it’s not so much a collaboration, as it’s me giving her a format for her to be her pure self. And that’s different than us writing a song or writing lyrics or writing an arrangement together. So, I don’t know. If whoever called me up and said, ‘Hey, do you want to do this,’ I would always be open for it. I’m open to new experiences and new failures or successes. But I could understand how a lot of people wouldn’t be. It’s nerve-wracking; it’s not always very pleasant. I try to make ours as easy, as quick, and as pleasant as possible. They simply can do this little thing, and be part of this bigger thing. That’s why most artists would want to do it in that way, more than a ‘Hey Henry (Rollins), why don’t you write a song today?’ A lot of people will do that to us. I’ll say ‘not really, but I will, if that’s what we’re doing.’

M: You’re definitely right: you talk a lot. But it works with interviews.

WC: (Laughs) I know I paint it like it’s going to be torture, but I’m trying to give you as much a lay of thinking about me as you can. Make me sound cool.

The Flaming Lips will be playing on 10/10 in Austin, TX. You can buy tickets here.

The Flaming Lips – Race for the Prize

The Flaming Lips – Fight Test

The Flaming Lips – It’s Summertime

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Describing an Of Montreal show is like setting the scene for a circus. Literally. The amount of cartoonish yet elaborate characters, the band-built set of props, the whirlwind of energy… it is difficult to pinpoint which component of the performance merits the most mention. When it comes down to it though, like the mark of any great band, it is the music that keeps people going. For a band like Of Montreal, their set is not an illusion designed to compensate for sub-par music. Neither is frontman Kevin Barnes’ energy, which is the quite opposite of a facade and a vocal part of his music whether on stage or not. So when I saw them for the first time on Saturday night, I was not surprised by the festival-like atmosphere. I knew that would be there. What stunned me was a remarkably tight performance that somehow managed to take the best parts of the band’s music and their renowned stage presence, both of which are anything but subtle. Such immaculate management prevented an overflowing of ideas, which is always possible considering the band’s lofty scope. Fans were treated to quality with no pretentious showmanship.

The success of their performance on Saturday night, the second of a two-night stint at Terminal 5, is no surprise to fans. When you have an opener like Janelle Monáe, who is successfully attaining fame in both independent and mainstream circles, it is hard to have doubts. The little that I caught of her set was excellent, and her re-emergence during the phenomenal “Enemy Gene” later in the night brought emphatic cheering from an audience that were thankful to be given an opener that sounded like a headliner. This occurred about mid-way through Of Montreal’s setlist, which to my delight was culled heavily from their new album, False Priest (review here), and my favorite, Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? (review here). Barnes and co. were able to seamlessly navigate their way around a setlist that, despite their striking stylistic similarities (like Barnes’ falsetto or a funk-heavy rhythm section), contained appropriate variations in tempo and mood.

A rendition of “Casualty of You” was a surprising entry in the midst of jolted dance-friendly efforts like “Godly Intersex” and “Girl Named Hello”, which was accompanied with dancers in pig masks who proceeded to grind it up with Barnes. Yet, they all maintained synchronization even as breathing room got thinner. As the sole ballad-like track on False Priest, “Casualty of You” fit naturally with songs from the same album despite its emotional distance. Barnes’ piano-driven delivery reached believable authenticity despite the more vivacious preceding efforts, which was played with expected mastery by longtime members Bryan Poole, Dottie Alexander, and others. Barnes stole the show’s visual factor, but the music was a collaborative tour-de-force that contained the tightness and infectiousness demanded from funk-heavy efforts.

Performances of “Bunny Ain’t No Kind of Rider” and “She’s a Rejector” reminded me how wonderful Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? was. Even though Barnes is three years past the divorce that plagued him to write many of the exceptional but forlorn efforts on Hissing Fauna, the same intensity was there as if it happened yesterday. It is questionable whether an audience should enjoy an artist’s suffering, so perhaps these tracks sounded bouncier and more fluid than usual because the issue is not as sensitive. Or maybe it is simply that the band was on their game. The intro to “Bunny Ain’t No Kind of Rider” focused on some very interesting glitch-pop, while “She’s a Rejector” retained the same successful anthem-against-heartbreak feel as it did three years ago. These songs were fantastic additions to the False Priest-heavy set, showing more alt-rock and electro-rock than funk but achieving a similar degree of irresistible uniqueness.

These earlier efforts had little dependence on the set or scenery, which Barnes described to Spinner as being a very collaborative effort: “It’s like we’re an art collective, in a way,” he said. “Everyone in the band is contributing, everyone is the crew is contributing and this is very collaborative experience for all of us. Our bass player is responsible for building 85 percent of the props we’re going to use on tour. My brother designed all of them. All of us are involved in filming all the video content.” Seeing as how tightly involved the band’s music was, it is not surprising to see that this was a mutual effort. Barnes may steal the show on more occasions than one, but it is clear that the Georgia-based collective are blessed with additional talent beyond their enigmatic frontman.

For a tour that has seemingly been developed like an elaborate film, with costumes and sets taking the entire summer to create, it certainly lived up to expectations. I am not sure how Barnes had enough time to write a great album like False Priest AND help organize an intricate tour like this, but that is beside the fact. The band put on an exceptional show that was lively but also somewhat grounded, featuring a very accessible setlist (for Of Montreal’s standards) and not straying too far from it, apart from a few admirable Michael Jackson covers to close the night. I recommend that you listen to False Priest, fall in love with it, and check to see if the band is coming somewhere near you. If not, it is one of those tours you will regret missing a year from now.

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Of Montreal – Bunny Ain’t No Kind of Rider

Of Montreal – Coquet Coquette

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No instrument has ever been a necessity, for talented artists always find a means for audible manipulation. It sounds like such a conceited and disdainful word, but when manipulation is used as a means to promote unconditional enjoyment and legitimate artistic vision, is it really such a negative influence? Many artists are guilty of over-doing this when they attempt to cloak repetition, irrelevance, and/or incompetence through an overbearing amount of musical layers restrained in the same key to prevent true recognition of the effort’s simplicity. These efforts precede even monophonic linearity in value, since the type of manipulation employed here contains more malicious and superficial intent than those that put it to better use. To the contrary, the artists that recognize their ability as one strong enough to be interpreted through a mere single instrumental layer produce more virtuous and ambitious work than those bogged down in superfluous glamor. Unless an artist has a singular instrumental occupation (exclusively pertaining to either vocals, guitar, or bass, etc.), showcasing this confidence requires – at the bare minimum – a conventional instrumental arsenal. This is often seen as a rhythm section, being drum and bass, in addition to guitars. Everyone’s high school offered plenty of amateur groups with this strict arsenal, being the “coolest” and most accessible instruments available to that young and easily influenced demographic. To remove half of that arsenal would be absurd, right?

I Heart Hiroshima expresses a sort of youthful vigor that most artists lost in corporate hoopla have disassociated themselves with. Short bursts of excitement were sacrificed for developmental frustration, which alone can serve as an analogy for the aging process of these artists. Experience can play a role as a benefactor or detriment in this sense, especially as we wade through pretentious ideals concocted by those that value occupational duration over qualitative means, and I Heart Hiroshima appear genuine enough to avoid these standards based on duration of experience rather than the quality of it. The most evident skill this Australian trio have is the ability to make the most of what they have, which is not a bass guitar. Compiled of nothing more than vocals, guitars, and drums, their decision to exclude the bass guitar within their rhythm section is risky for a rock group of their nature, but it is not like it has never been done before. The White Stripes are perhaps the most popular example today, though even bands like The Cramps and The Doors made do without one. Ray Manzarek played the bass parts on keyboard when The Doors played live, exemplifying the type of positive audible manipulation that serves contrary to the aforementioned overburdening of multiple musical layers.

Like The Doors’ bass-less live method, I Heart Hiroshima are able to deliver a full-bodied and explosive sound without one of the most integral concepts of rhythm in rock music at their side. Considering their emphasis is on a gritty and excitable blend of post-punk and frenzied art-rock, two genres highly dependent on bass, it is extraordinary how well the trio pulls off their second full-length album, The Rip. Recorded in their native Brisbane and released last month, it continues upon a form of punk music highly influenced by the short but dense works of Wire, Gang of Four, and Mission of Burma, all while retaining a sense of contemporary indie-rock theatrics. The slick guitar progressions, ceaseless whimpers, and alternation between spoken-word and melodic aggregation seem to recall acts like Art Brut, Maximo Park, and The Rakes in their vigorously condensed approach. This is not to depict them as simplistic or effortless though, as tracks like “Reckless” depict a Talking Heads-like maneuver in which contrasting guitar progressions are aligned with a multitude of vocal presences to create a standstill between artsy examination and seamless, fun-filled enjoyment. This is precisely the reason why The Rip works so well; it manages to simultaneously be fun and creatively admirable.

One of the band’s digital single from this year, “Pink Frost”, seems to recall The Editors or Interpol with its reverb-heavy tremolos, repeated vocal fragments, and sullen meta-narrative. Apart from the lack of bass (which is brilliantly substituted by thick percussion and rhythm guitar), “Pink Frost” finds uniqueness through the group’s attentive vocal technique, which allows all three members to capitalize upon their varying deliveries and pitches. This is one of the album’s most prevalent strengths. For instance, drummer Susie Patten delivers on excellent vocal performance on “Red Hands”, a track where a three-chord progression evolves from droning simplicity to versatile storytelling. The transitions in timbre and pitch in the song’s last minute causes the repetition to make sense, as well as encourage the listener to pay more mind to Patten. Her unique vocal execution entails stutters, halts, and surprising changes in pitch, and it contributes immensely to the track’s minimalistic post-punk beauty. Bass is substituted for in intricately evolving guitar plucking, which almost ironically has a higher pitch than the lead melody. The lack of bass is hardly noticeable though, and as Patten shares vocal duties with lead guitarist Matthew Somers and rhythm guitarist Cameron Hawes listeners should become more aware of this group’s other inner-workings. The lack of bass is irrelevant when there is so many other positive forces at work. And thus, we have manipulation in the most qualitative sense of them all, one that allows the listener to enjoy the content due to a plethora of quality content and not an overburdening of irrelevance.

RIYL: The Pixies, Wire, Hüsker Dü, Mission of Burma, The Editors, Maximo Park, The Grates, Art Brut, The Rakes

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I Heart Hiroshima – Pink Frost

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I Heart Hiroshima – Red Hands (live video)*

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I Heart Hiroshima – Neutron Popsong (live video)*

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*Check out both live videos for Patten’s highly entertaining stage presence, which is also one of the main reasons to see I Heart Hiroshima live.

The post I Heart Hiroshima, Bass or No Bass appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

I was a bit weary when Bishop Allen began their EP project, where they released an EP once every month for the entirety of 2006. Why rush artistic integrity and spoil the chances of a full-length masterpiece in the process? Many listeners probably had a similar first impression, but when hearing the type of content that the Brooklyn-based duo produced throughout these 12 EPs it began to make sense. They almost resembled lo-fi bedroom recordings with their amiable DIY dedication, their infectious indie-pop being led by an array of crackling guitars and pianos. Although the sporadic stream of releases prevented much press since most music publications would not dare review the same band every month, the concept alone generated plenty of recognition that brought acclaim for both the band’s work ethic and stylistic focus. To keep listeners coming back every month for a release that hardly varied in style was quite an achievement, and in doing this it represented the duo’s cunning songwriting ability. After the finale of this EP project, it was hardly a surprise when Bishop Allen landed a respectable label deal with Dead Oceans (which involves people from Secretly Canadian and Jagjaguwar) because of this new acclaim.

A Brief Smile are another group out of NYC attempting a similar concept, except this time without the major indie backing and promotion that Bishop Allen had. A Brief Smile has already released three EPs this year, one each on the first Friday of May, June, and July. Whereas Bishop Allen had previously established substantial recognition with a full-length debut in Charm School before undertaking this adventurous approach, A Brief Smile are generally unknowns still looking for their breakthrough. An short 7-track debut, R.E.S.T., was released in 2005 before a full-length album, Now We All Have Horns, appeared in 2007, but there remains a vague enigma surrounding this group. Each of their three EPs this year represent varying stylistic approaches, leaving a sense of unpredictability that can only be positive for a group as young as A Brief Smile, who all met while attending NYU. The estimations surrounding their next album cannot be conventionally hypothesized, as bassist John Carnes explains. “These albums are all different from one another sonically but I think if you really listen to the lyrics, you’ll find commonalities – a kind of narrative that goes from creation to destruction to creation.” This kind of stylistic multifariousness that A Brief Smile have shown despite a limited number of release is what makes them so promising for the future.

A Brief Smile’s absence from touring since August can likely be contributed to whispers of a full-length release. The five-piece is now at work on “a dance record” that uses “dark chugging synths” to pave the way for a return to the band’s pop roots, set to be released sometime in 2010. This return to their pop roots is in reference to their earlier material, which is in slight contrast to the tinge of indie-psychedelia displayed on Sunshine State, the most recent of their three EPs this year. “Animal Magnetism” shows off this psyche side quite well in addition to the five-piece’s versatility. “Do you believe in the hope of a magnetic soul?” DL Tashjian sings over impulsive stuttering of keys, assailing guitar riffs, and bursts of tuned-up bass. Tashjian’s vocals are crisp and delightful, adding melodic variations of vibrato similar to that of Jim James, though comparisons to the powerful quiver of Brandon Summers (The Helio Sequence) is more apt due to the shared uses of soaring melodies within a sparkling blend of indie-rock and electronic-rock. A track like this can be accredited to indie-rock with its conventional structure and length, but at times the soaring guitars make it feel like more of a post-rock effort. When all the instruments condense in the last minute over the hectic pattering of percussion and Tashjian’s echoed moans, it feels as if a ten-minute epic had just concluded. I mean this in the best way possible too; it is a song that makes time move slower due to its psychedelic leanings, while hardly abiding by the stereotype that enjoyment is best identified by time passing quickly.

“Bigger Lies” continues to tout its psychedelic influences like “Animal Magnetism” did, promoting its 4:20 length quite nicely. This is an extremely developmental effort, with a bass-keyboard fusion providing a leading melody that is no more than four notes. This unfolds as expected though, and judging how effective A Brief Smile are in exposing . You can just feel the anthemic section of “Bigger Lies” unfolding as the track progresses, the rhythm section hinting at possible bursts of melodic variation. Tashjian’s vocals continue to solidify any lack of variation that may occur during the track’s early goings, providing plenty of dramatic flair before interesting harmonic combinations and rhythmic appliances are utilized to establish “Bigger Lies” as one of the most convincing efforts of A Brief Smile’s career thus far. It should be the first of many monumental successes for this group . I honestly believe that this tracks will go overlooked simply because songs on 3-song EPs from unknowns generally tend to be disregarded. If these were perhaps put towards their eventual full-length then more exposure would have been imminent, but looking at these three EPs it was clear that A Brief Smile did this for their growing fanbase and not for commercialized potential. With A Brief Smile now hard at work in the studio, we have a gem like Sunshine State to tide us over until their dark, synth-savvy follow-up is released in 2010. Download a few of their EPs for free here or there until then; this level of quality is rarely distributed for free so take advantage of it.

RIYL: The Helio Sequence, Dirty on Purpose, The Happy Hollows, My Morning Jacket, Snowden, Annuals, The Main Drag

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A Brief Smile – Bigger Lies

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A Brief Smile – Animal Magnetism

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A Brief Smile – Honeycomb Shrinking

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Stereotypes involving the carefree indulgences of a Californian summer have been circulating since surf-rock originated in the ’60s. Its inception was largely brought on by the development and popularization of the spring reverb, which at the time was said to mimic the sound of waves along one of these sunny beaches. Mickey Deora described surf music nicely by calling it “a syndrome — a cluster of symptoms, no single one of which is necessary or sufficient for the diagnosis.” The main symptoms include a limited instrumental arsenal, prominent use of either reverb or the guitar’s vibrato, and a short song length that appealed to the abundantly used metaphor of catching a wave. Similar to that accomplishment, the conventional surf-rock tracks were short, infectious, and brimming with components like reverb or picked staccatos. This action-audio analogy may sound pretentious by today’s independent standards, but back then it was simply incorporating a popular form of youthful expression into another popular form of youthful expression. Music and surfing were unveiled by these groups to have more in common than one would think.

Before even listening to them, it is readily apparent that Surfer Blood are a bit enamored with the style and period of surf music. Their name alone possesses an obvious reference, while expositions of personality on their MySpace site flash glimpses of ocean-themed tracks, references to fun things like weed and Condoleeza Rice, and a bunch of promo photos that are either in front of the ocean or expressing serene artistic emission. This might sound normal enough if you are from West Palm Beach like Surfer Blood, but many fans of indie-rock may find themselves weary of such beach-bound associations. The differences between contemporary indie-rock and surf-rock are prominent for the most part, and to immediately align Surfer Blood with The Beach Boys or Dick Dale would be a premature impulse that would unfortunately result in missing out on a great band for those not attracted whatsoever to these past groups. Surfer Blood do not abide by Deora’s aforementioned symptoms of surf-rock on a strict basis, but by possessing a similar type of musical ideology to their surf-rock predecessors Surfer Rock have crafted an ingenious debut that reaps from an old-fashioned sort of intensity that only those powerful two-minute surf-rock epics from the ’60s brought to the table.

Although they serve exemplary of an artist influenced by an ideology instead of a precise audible style, Surfer Blood’s own unique style is something that should delight fans of modern indie-rock. The charming upbeat pop of The Shins is certainly present, as are groups like The Explorers Club that cling on to ’60s pop and surf-rock through overlapping vocal harmonies, picked tremolos, and lushly serene orchestration. Surfer Blood are a bit more modernistic than a group like The Explorers Club though, evidenced strongly by the variation in guitar tones and levels of distortion in addition to the lead vocals of John Paul Pitts. Amiable and accessible, Pitts always maintains a gleeful and whimsical croon that simultaneously recalls the sparkle-and-spit of James Mercer and versatility of Brian Wilson by aligning his vocal melodies with corresponding guitars. Like in surf-rock and power-pop alike, guitars are the driving force throughout Surfer Blood’s debut album, Astrocoast. These are precisely the two influences at work most consistently too; surf-rock is abundant through its production techniques while the hooks and song structures themselves are more reflective of power-pop.

Apart from “Slow Jabroni” and “Anchorage”, Astrocoast consists of tracks following below the four-minute mark but still achieving incredible growth and innovation during that time, beckoning a similar feeling to that of instrumental surf-rock when it emerged in the early ’60s. It helps that accessible efforts like “Floating Vibes” takes any related stereotypes by the throat to turn it into a gem with precise revision, even if the track’s simplicity and imminent radio time means it is not as durably enjoyable as the rest of this fantastic album. These aforementioned surf-rock instrumentals are even recalled on Astrocoast to a slight degree, which finds its own reworking on “Neighbor Riffs”. Perhaps it resembles post-punk or art-rock due to its selected melodic and tonal choices, but the structure is inherently that of how surf-rock instrumentals were. An initial bass line kicks off the effort and does not subside for the entire duration, instead serving as the source of opportunity for a multitude of dexterous guitar progressions that benefit from aspects like tremolo, reverb, and staccato that undoubtedly resemble conceptual surf-rock. This is a quite a departure from most of the efforts on Astrocoast, but it sits excellently in the middle of Astrocoast as the bridge between indie-pop-minded sensibilities and voraciously raw surf-rock.

“Twin Peaks” is also nicely demonstrative of this medium, seeing a verse that alternates between aptly implemented chirps of guitar and bursts of distortion before going into an exotic infusion of woodwinds and guitars backed by festival-like ambiance. The fact that Surfer Blood are able to involve both of these conceptual ideas within mere seconds of one another is very impressive and it is easily one of Astrocoast‘s biggest strengths. “Fast Jabroni” recalls the fuzzy dance-punk of the late ’80s with its backing synths and excellent bridge, which uses cleverly engineered snippets of guitar arpeggios and strings to piece together a joyous chorus that exposes Pitts’ vocals in the best light possible. The guitar solo toward the end of the track brings us back to the days of quality ’90s power-pop, before the time Weezer transformed from indie-rock heroes to monetarily desperate cash cows taking advantage of their own status to release pathetic music and manipulate dedicated fans in the process. The prominent synths along with Pitts’ chirpy vocals would have allowed this to site well on Donnie Darko‘s soundtrack, where influences like Echo & the Bunnymen and The Church showcased the precursor to an effort like this in the background of rebellious and misdirected youth. There is a sort of concurrent wisdom and youthfulness found in Surfer Blood’s work and it serves as a rare factor that will undoubtedly separate them from the masses.

Other highlights on Astrocoast include “Harmonix”, easily the best psychedelic-geared effort on the album with its droning guitars and reverbed harmonics (as one would assume by the name), and “Take It Easy”, which brilliantly infuses fiddles and plucked staccatos to introduce an ingeniously calming chorus that summarizes this group’s feel-good vibes in more ways than one. There are so many sheer successes on Astrocoast that it is hard not to chalk it down as one of 2009’s best debuts. Their fusion of surf-rock and indie-rock has been attempted recently by groups like The Drums and Holiday Shores with some degree of success, but Surfer Blood appear to be doing it the best so far.

RIYL: The Drums, The Explorers Club, Holiday Shores, Girls, Fool’s Gold, Little Joy, Weezer, The School

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Surfer Blood – Take It Easy

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Surfer Blood – Harmonix

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Surfer Blood – Fast Jabroni

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Continuing with the recent theme of atmospheric pop music that Washed Out and Neon Indian showed us, Her Vanished Grace deliver a similar sort of layer-based sereneness that differentiates itself through dark and moody Brit-rock instead of chilly electronica or sample-based experimentation. By most accounts, Blue is their tenth release of new material since their debut, State of Grace, was released in 1991 with a promising take on atmospheric pop that revolved around assorted guitars and keyboards. Her Vanished Grace’s actual number of releases is somewhat debated due to their cult-like following, which has manufactured many assorted mixtapes and compilations in itself. If one thing is for certain though, it is the rare capability that this band has to remain interesting as time goes on. As their tenth release Blue shows us, it does not take a precise discography for a listener to witness Her Vanished Grace’s maturation. Their initial career reaped from interesting use of post-rock, noise, and shoegaze, wearing influences like Sonic Youth and My Bloody Valentine on their sleeves despite noticeably lo-fi production that prevented the New York-based group from reaching widespread recognition. Their work still touts those prestigious influences today, but now they infuse more of their originality in an effort to differentiate themselves. So far, so good.

The most recent incarnation of Her Vanished Grace commenced in 2000 with Colors Vols. 1 & 2, when the founding husband-and-wife duo of Charles and Nance Nieland disbanded the initial workings of Her Vanished Grace and combined forces with bassist Maria Theodosiadou and drummer Brian Haarer to form a more full-bodied version of their initial group. A vigorously talented rhythm section and higher-budget recording methods in addition to the songwriter-guitarist husband-and-wife duo paved way for their most successful period in the early to mid 2000s. Five new albums were released after Colors, the most recent being the excellent Blue. Although their success to date has been gaining momentum for several years now, Blue may be the knockout punch that propels this band from obscurity to unanimous acclaim. Charles and Nance met at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art about two decades ago, and ever since then they have been working together to pursue their dream of musical success. Time is only relative for artists, and many may consider success occurring after attributed experience is better than success prior to experience, for it is a factor that is a monumental factor in determining an artist’s durability.

Durability is synonymous with Her Vanished Grace, at least in the sense that longtime fans have yet to be disappointed with the four-piece. Billy Loose has since replaced Haarer on drums but the original duo along with Theodosiadou are still there along with their ambitions. In terms of stylistic exploration, Blue has little to offer in terms of breakthroughs, but their blending of familiar styles like power-pop and shoegaze into one beautiful audible landscape make up for any lack of stylistic innovation. To enjoy Blue one must push aside any stylistic biases regarding shoegaze, as common stylistic elements like reverb and gushing guitars are abundant but not utilized in a conventional manner. Since the melodies are crisp and polished in the form of modern indie-pop instead, the regressing influence is not exposed in the way one might expect. The excellent self-titled track instead reaps from an infectious blend of power-pop and post-punk, being grounded in production techniques involving heavy doses of reverb, thick tremolos, and heightening guitar arpeggios that clash with a bustling rhythm section to consume the listener through both pop-minded appeal and atmospheric vision. Like predecessors in the vein of Sonic Youth and Ride, Blue marks Her Vanished Grace’s true emerging period as a group putting their ambition to accessible use without sacrificing the ingenuity that got them there in the first place.

Although both Charles and Nance contribute vocal duties on Blue, Charles is primarily used due to the way his brooding vocals accentuate the retrospective and forlorn aroma of post-punk and shoegaze most commonly attributed to Her Vanished Grace. The band employs their differing vocal styles well, allowing each specialty to reap from their eclectic use of instrumentation. For instance, Charles is lead on the empowering “Blue”, where a brilliantly moody chorus provides awe-inspiring embrace in washed layers of guitars and synth pads. Its strength is dependent on darkening mood and evolving versatility, growing from an emotive guitar-driven piece to one guided by distinctive layers of sound that accompany a versatile croon that goes from low-pitched to an ethereal chant of sorts with heightened pitch. Charles’ presence is felt in the album’s darker tracks, leaving room for Nance to take control of more lighthearted efforts like “Rush”. With a better grasp of bubblegum-pop or lighthearted indie-pop in the vein of Metric or Mates of State, “Rush” works by using a bunch of repeating guitar chords before exerting itself into a chorus that reminds me of 90s Brit-rock in the vein of PJ Harvey, Black Box Recorder, or even less absurd Morrissey efforts like “Reader Meets Author” with its swirling sort of guitar-based simplicity. Although it strains itself from too much repetition, it is a nice reliever from Her Vanished Grace’s more emotionally complex efforts like “Blue and “Remember”, as enjoyable as they are.

The latter is narrative in approach as Charles and Nance participate in a duet, again retracing their steps to the amiable type of alt-rock that was abundant throughout the ’90s. With Charles’ vocals at times sounding like a cross between Gruff Rhys, Morrissey, and Hayden Thorpe (Wild Beasts), his versatile approach does wonders to this respective style along with the band’s tendency for anthemic hooks. Nance’s contributions contrast somewhat in terms of style, but the parallel creates very refreshing circumstances that are simply a testament to the group’s valuable chemistry. The diversity between efforts like “Blue” and “Rush” summarize the album’s success quite well, as Blue serves as an enjoyable release that relies on the band’s gathered experience in the spectrums of pop music and layer-based atmospherics. Without the experience of nearly two decades I would be surprised if Blue would have even been possible, but Her Vanished Grace have undoubtedly reached an artistic peak by doing so without sacrificing what got them here in the first place.

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Her Vanished Grace – Blue

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Her Vanished Grace – Slip Away

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Her Vanished Grace – Remember

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It would be nice if all New Yorkers were given next week off for the sake of new music. CMJ’s Music Marathon is already intimidating enough with hundreds of artists on the roster, so with classes and work getting in the way it would be pretty nice to devote a whole week to new music instead. This nutty but alluring proposal aside, many of the groups playing next week are getting their first big break, a treat for audiences to be involved in. As a result, those attending will likely be more receptive to the potential and effort the artist may display or put forth, rather than instantaneous quality. Yesterday’s feature of Tim Williams was exemplary of an artist who put his first taste of CMJ exposure five years earlier to good use. Although he has yet to become a brand name, watching an artist live that you hypothesize to be prominent in a few years provides a unique feeling that is only rivaled by the discovery of a release produced under similarly deprived circumstances. Artistry is one of the few aspects of humanity that permits hunger and desire as beneficial forces and, although we never want well-deserved artists to go by unnoticed, we assume an unspoken role as listeners to spread the word about quality music. This site itself is a representation of that attempt, and comprehensively accessible festivals like CMJ are able to provide the wonderful feeling I get after writing about a band that I am positive will be adored by most that pass by this site.

Another great thing about CMJ is the amount of related e-mails I get for it. Since the majority of these groups are simply looking for exposure, the amount of invitations I receive is a nice source of entertainment for awhile, even if it makes me somewhat weary. Not so much because it is flattering, but instead due to my own time constraints and the many artists that have the potential to be breathtakingly original (if they have not reached that point already). To miss out on one because my inbox is full would be quite unfortunate. I have no clue what to attend during CMJ on the days I actually am available, so going through and listening to the artists beforehand is really the only form of judgment I and others can go by. This is what I do regardless though, so stumbling across a group like Midnight Juggernauts thanks to a CMJ invitation demonstrates how live appearances have both a direct and indirect effect on an artist’s exposure. Even if I were to not attend due to disinterest or personal conflicts, the mere fact they are appearing in the festival led me to their latest release, an EP by the name of This New Technology. Judging by the concise but impressive showing of the EP, perhaps I should clear my schedule for one of their CMJ shows.

Quite simply, Midnight Juggernauts are worth it. The title of their EP is good indication of their advanced stylistic trends, simultaneously emitting a fury of dance-rock in the vein of Cut Copy and hazy ’90s alt-rock reminiscent of early Suede or Manic Street Preachers, when drugs were influencing a sound influenced by both psychedelia and glam. Drug use is hardly advised but in some artistic instances it can serve as a beneficial supplement, shown throughout the recording of Suede’s Dog Man Star or even The Beatles’ transitional stage into works later classified as psychedelia. You can find a similar sort of revised psychedelia in the work of Midnight Juggernauts, even though they remain more sample-friendly and uptempo than many of these predecessors. Their pulsating bass work is more reminiscent of layered synths than anything, but the interesting decision to implement organs, varied guitar work, and a vocal delivery that would fit more aptly in the world of arena-rock make Midnight Juggernaut something of an unconventional success. Their debut, Dystopia, showed their blend of synth-pop and alt-rock for the first time in 2007, serving as one of the few electro-rock debuts that were polished full of confidence. The Tough Alliance and Cut Copy come to mind for this decade, but since the days of Massive Attack and Depeche Mode electronic-rock has dwindled into a more predictable entity that allows considerably more room for error.

Midnight Juggernauts defy such limitations on This New Technology, starting with the gorgeous self-titled cut. “This New Technology” already made a big splash in the blogosphere in late September, but this should do well in tiding you over until the EP’s release in November. A jaw-dropping effort, its integration of bubbly synths into chirps of brass and reverbed guitar licks may sound on paper like another typical indie-rock effort that mocks Cut Copy, but the advances this trio has made here makes for more than that. On Dystopia the group were often criticized for making their song structures too predictable, with verses often relying on vocals and choruses using more melodic forces of instrumentation. “This New Technologhy” rides on similar utilization of bass as the debut, but the interaction between guitars and organs here is what establishes it as a uniquely phenomenal effort. The vocals are also noticeably more empowering than on the debut, and the group’s newly acquired experience with structural alteration truly shows here as it makes the seamless transition between punchy dance-rock and hazy psychedelia. “Fantastic Valleys” is strictly instrumental but goes far in showing the listener even more stylistic growth, as the percussive intricacy and avant-garde keyboard work are new improvements for the trio. I am not quite sure whether it would sound more appropriate for the Goonies soundtrack or a film set in 2500, but those keys sure bring out feelings of both elusiveness and futurism in their unpredictable placement and synthetic tone. Midnight Juggernauts have made obvious improvements that should drive plenty of hype in anticipation for their forthcoming full-length album, set to be released sometime in early 2010. At the very least, they made me and others want to clear their busy schedules for a few CMJ appearances.

RIYL: Cut Copy, Manic Street Preachers, Suede, Giorgio Moroder, Scissor Sisters, Air, The Rapture

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Midnight Juggernauts – This New Technology

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Midnight Juggernauts – Fantastic Valleys

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Midnight Juggernauts – This New Technology (Emperor Machine Remix)

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We are producers. We make music for you. This is what UltraChorus convey on their web site, almost sounding like they cater to artists more than listeners in doing so. Such circumstances have the likelihood of create hazardous listening barriers, but in the realm of electronic-pop music it can actually make the process more seamless and enjoyable. Their “for-artists, by-artists” approach primarily relates to the handful of remixes the Minnesotan duo has released thus far, the artists including Phoenix, The Presets, and Daniel Merriweather to name a few. It would be easy to call UltraChorus – and other recent acts focused on remixing – a desperate plea for artistic individuality in the skewering of one’s work to compensate for your own lack of creativity, which is of course true for some. But in UltraChorus’ case, their first full-length release of original material shows how their experience with remixing contributed to an enjoyably individualistic sound that undoubtedly benefited from both practiced working and listening methods.

Electronic music, like any genre, requires practice and trial-and-error to increase one’s skill. However, considering that the genre relies on more intricate technology, one could make the argument that a melodic ear and great songwriting craft are not as prioritized as one’s technological grasp. In experimental music this can easily be the case, but when keeping in mind the implementation of pop music there remains a sense of simultaneous attentiveness that would result in generic placidity if ignored. Hot Chip, Chromeo, and Phoenix are a few examples of artists that maneuvered these waters successfully, and UltraChorus follow their footsteps in relaying a fun and infectious form of electro-pop that blends seductive R&B with tinges of art-rock and dance. This blend has been mashed together before, but UltraChorus’ prior familiarity with the practice of remixing leads to certain components that one would be hard-pressed to find in most other electronic acts. With this arises a question of whether UltraChorus or more electro-pop (Hot Chip) or art-rock (Phoenix). Perhaps certain technology at their disposal can reveal this.

Vocoders have been damned to hell by most “savvy” listeners by now. I agree with them for the most part, except when an artist executes it like UltraChorus have done on Ultra-Def. An example like this brings to mind how it is not the technology we detest that results in failures, but rather the culprits that misuse a device or method and provide it with a negative stigma. Listening to Ultra-Def in full will reveal UltraChorus as one of the good guys, using the vocoder not as a means to disguise melodic flaws but rather as a stylistic additive and songwriting tool. The opening “Scarlet Eyes” is shrouded in disco-infused bass lines and fragile piano progressions, making the vocoded element somewhat of a flash toward modernity. Like Pet Shop Boys, UltraChorus are able to turn electronic-pop into a meshing of several decades, this case being a fusion of ’70s pop and general balladry. The vocoded element is subtle and used somewhat sparingly in accordance to the track’s respective hook, and when it is utilized it provides a surprisingly refreshing take on electronic-pop without sounding too desperate for commercial attention.

Fans of the previously featured Pacific! are bound to fall in love with UltraChorus. That same sort of Swedish electro-pop wizardry with its glistening synths and heavily danceable rhythm section is prevalent, even if these two guys are from Minnesota. The same simultaneous focus on technical and pop-minded ideologies is evident though, as the diversity on Ultra-Def can show. “Bestin the Farther” tends to expand into flourishes of strings over its rigid keyboard progression; the vocoder is again featured to spice up the chorus’ emphasis on synthetic constructions. The subsequent bridge, featuring sped-up vocals over warbled synths, also tend to benefit from the device in its translation to a rhythmically complementary component. Swanky efforts like “Yucatan Peninsula” and “HouseParty5” benefit from sparse keyboard arrangements that are complemented by occasional bursts of bass, which always seems to be at its lowest tone possible. How the high pitches of twinkling synths collaborate with the lower resonates of bass is outstanding in crafting a serenely supreme atmosphere, paving the way for plenty of hooks in the process. “Hope that someday we’ll meet at that little cafe at the end of the street,” the vocals hopefully implore during the track’s final moments, attempting to make the daydream less of a dream by subsequently asking cream or sugar. The musings are simple and easy to understand, but the music resonates deeper than expected.

Although a mere three tracks are sampled here, I would strongly recommend all fans of electronic-pop to pick up Ultra-Def by Ultrachorus for the rest. What may sound like just another vocoder-aided electro-pop act will provide a treat upon extended listens. This is the rare type of pop music that emerges most prominently after familiarity reigns. Once you become accustomed to the album’s efforts, the element of predictability seems to coincide beautifully with the album’s concept of straight-laced hooks, simple-minded relations, and irresistible bouts of infectiousness. Ultra-Def is a remarkable effort by a Minnesotan duo that is poised for success.

RIYL: Pacific!, Hot Chip, Phoenix, Squeeze, Chromeo

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UltraChorus – Scarlet Eyes

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UltraChorus – HouseParty 5

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UltraChorus – Bestin the Farther

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Identifying the differences between concise indie-rock and avant-garde developments are more complex than analyzing track’s duration and selection of instrumentation. There are supremely talented musicians in each spectrum, with their method of choice usually being dependent on inspirational or influential precedents. But when we try to compare the Spoon’s and Phoenix’s of the world to a group like Animal Collective, it is more ideal to simply say that two produce indie-rock and the other puts out experimental indie-rock. To define something as experimental is usually subjective after all, though the ambition of certain artists will always remain indisputable. But when we use that term, it tends to designate an artistic technique that is either derivative and manipulated to wildly innovative means or entirely original in that it accomplishes something singularly unique despite some minor miscues (which are to be expected, as they can eventually unfold as a contributory entity). Each spectrum occasionally overlaps with one another, but for the most part the concise rockers and audible scientists remain consistent in separating themselves in the fact that experimentation has little to no commercial allure. I am not referring to the readers of this site or others similar, as they tend to exist outside commercialism’s grasp, but rather the ones that rely on advertisements and incomplete samples to form an opinion surrounding their potential interest in an artistic topic.

As consumers we tend to eliminate the mere idea of trying something more than once if the previous endeavor was not worthwhile, leaving many musicians with an unfair disadvantage in selecting their stylistic output. There is a generalization to group all music that surpasses commercial expectations in the realm of experimentation, which is quite rash considering it is one of the only genres where no prior template is possible to work off of. Sure, you could say Animal Collective borrowed components from The Beach Boys and Paul Simon among others, but there is no exact science in determining whether an artist has utilized the precise same template as a peer. It may be similar to another, but like a fingerprint there is not one exactly like it. Jesus H. Foxx could say that their influences had a role in their sound, but their uniqueness comes in their ability to border between punchy indie-rock and thought-provoking experimentation with seamless precision. The result is one of unparalleled, ceaselessly exciting awe. It sounds familiar and nostalgic while concurrently providing refreshing ideas to pop music that have delighted my ears in addition to the majority of critics that have stumbled across the British septet thus far.

Originating in the summer of 2007, Jesus H. Foxx was primarily the remnants of several fallen bands around the Edinburgh area. The collection of longtime released their debut 7”, Tightt Ideas, in 2008 as a five-piece in before acquiring two more members. They now consist of two drummers, three guitarists, a bassist, and a cornet/glockenspiel player as a result. Self-admitted fetishists of American experimental indie-rock in the vein of Animal Collective and Deerhoof, they appear indebted to groundbreaking innovations equally to accessible, psychedelic-minded pop music. This remains particularly reminiscent of Arthur Russell, whose work was so uniquely ambitious that it would be impossible to hear it prominently within the work of others unless they were sloppily ripping him off. His influence on this group, like the others, is more subtle and only prevalent to those familiar with his work. But like Russell, you can hear the seven members of Jesus H. Foxx aligning their pop ideologies with otherworldly, impressively intricate structures and developments.

Jesus H. Foxx’s new release, Matter, expands upon the impressive territory of Tightt Ideas by diversifying the six tracks on the release. To begin with where it ends, the last two songs on Matter are particularly reminiscent of this aforementioned Russell influence, particularly in the way they both use reverb and unconventionally tuned instrumentation. The self-titled track sees little more than a mumble initially to serve as a vocals, but as the track progresses with the echoes of an acoustic guitar overlapping beautifully over twinkles of keys and spatters of percussion it becomes apparent that Jesus H. Foxx is a group that plans meticulously. The rest of Matter is divided between accessibility and experimentation, with “I’m Half the Man You Were” and “Trying to Be Good” almost stealing the show. Both show a clear Talking Heads influence, in the vocals obviously with the deep oh-so-cool Verlaine tone but more prominently in how the track builds on infectiously concise guitar progressions and pleasurable eruptions deriving from the rhythm section. With female vocals coo-ing behind the snazzy Tom Verlaine-Michael Gira hybrid lead, it makes for a remarkably addictive effort. Jesus H. Foxx takes cue from songwriters like these, who apply strong pop foundations with intricately bizarre influences to create music that is sometimes confusing and a bit overwhelming, but for the most part Jesus H. Foxx are excitedly progressing into an act that we would be wise to keep an eye on.

RIYL: Animal Collective, Talking Heads, Deerhunter, Atlas Sound, Pavement, Arthur Russell

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Jesus H. Foxx – I’m Half the Man You Were

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Jesus H. Foxx – Trying to Be Good

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Jesus H. Foxx – Matter

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We are all part of a certain generation, whether it involves flower children or hair-metal. I was born in the late ’80s, so I found myself in between the phases of hair-metal and the revolution of home gaming consoles. What many of us remember so fondly about our childhoods are the hobbies that captivated us, no matter how embarrassing or odd they were. Along with baseball, playing Super Nintendo was one of mine. It is rare when something captivates parents and children alike, but being able to play complex video games in your home was something I remember amazed both my parents and I when it hit in the early ’90s. Along with the rest of the gaming world, Street Fighter was one of the games I played to death. And although I have not been interested in video games for a few years, I can still recall some specifics that made my 12-year-old mind spin with delight. Maybe this is why M. Bison were so brilliant in choosing their name. As a bunch of 20-somethings, what better way to appeal to your target audience by naming your band after a video game character that will immediately instill nostalgia to the bulk of your potential audience? A looming video game character that aspired to be the world’s next evil dictator, M. Bison was hardly the cuddliest hero from the childhoods of most kids that grew up in the ’90s. But as a band that grew up in the era, who wouldn’t want to take advantage of that?

Songwriters Brian Kinsella and Jeff Grant were friends in high school, but the commencement of M. Bison did not occur until after their college days. Both had recorded demos in the seclusion of their dorms and eventually combined to release their debut EP, Not Bad!, in late 2007 with bassist Chris Jones and drummer Daniel Braithwaite. Below are a few tracks from their debut full-length, set to be dropped in December. As the bubbly infectiousness of “All Things to All People” indicates, M. Bison’s sound is modern and accessible, with guitars empowering a polished fusion of synth-pop and indie-rock that resembles Ozma, Weezer, and other acts specializing in power-pop hooks with backings of synth-pop and indie-rock. In this track, the bridge that joins synths with guitars embodies their motive in eventually readying for utter cohesion, indicated here by the unbiased use of piano. Its catchiness is irrefutable, and should lead to some airplay on college radio as a result. “Elves Sing La La La” is too full-bodied and dexterous for that type of exposure, but in showing the group’s songwriting and performing strengths it is highly impressive. Its tireless, energetic type of spontaneous guitar-led rock reminds me of early Sparks albums like Indiscreet and Kimono My House, a testament to M. Bison’s wide array of influences from the ’60s (The Beatles) to the ’00s (Dr. Dog).

“Going Home Soon” plays to their more sincere side, using little more than an acoustic guitar and percussive hop to establish the feel-good acoustic harmonics of a Jason Mraz or Jack Johnson. It is a pretty elementary pop song but Kinsella and Grant offer some phenomenal vocal harmonics to spice things up a bit. It is probably the weakest of the samples, if only because of a song like “Samurai Showdown” shows that the group can create some majestic works that tower in comparison. This one falls along the lines of The Flaming Lips or Avalanches in their alignment of outdated clips with futuristic takes on electronic music. The latter part of this song shows this with its clips from “Kids Say the Darndest Things!” meshing with a variety of synth progressions, but prior to that it falls with ’60s pop revivalists in the vein of Dr. Dog. The middle of the track uses the flimsiness of the introduction to introduce great expansion in the form of intensified guitars and greater vocal melodies with even greater intensity. The melody is distinctively throwback, but what makes M. Bison so nostalgic is not only their name. How the same group is able to produce “Going Home Soon” and “Samurai Showdown” traces back to the days when the word “eclectic” was not used as a rare complimentary word, but rather a common characteristic of most active artists during pop’s heyday.

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M. Bison – All Things to All People

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M. Bison – Samurai Showdown

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M. Bison – Elves Sing La La La

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