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.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Of Montreal – Bunny Ain’t No Kind of Rider

Of Montreal – Coquet Coquette

—————————————————————————————————————————

Official Site

MySpace

BUY

The post Of Montreal: 09/18/10 @ Terminal 5 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

——————————————————————————————

A Brief Smile – Bigger Lies

——————————————————————————————

A Brief Smile – Animal Magnetism

——————————————————————————————

A Brief Smile – Honeycomb Shrinking

——————————————————————————————

Official Web Site

MySpace

BUY

The post A Brief Smile for a Sunshine State appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

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

——————————————————————————————

Surfer Blood – Take It Easy

——————————————————————————————

Surfer Blood – Harmonix

——————————————————————————————

Surfer Blood – Fast Jabroni

——————————————————————————————

Kanine Records

MySpace

BUY

The post Surfer Blood on the Astrocoast appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

When projects attempt to be conceptual in both their style and purpose, there arises a sensitive area where criticism has difficulty retreating from the subjective to the objective. What we define as “quality” is premeditated by our own personal taste and is primarily subjective, but a release can also reach a consensus of inarguable quality and influence that gravitates more toward the objective. This almost always occurs quite some time after the initial release, for the term “instant-classic” is rarely used properly and often exaggerated when done so. If you wish to listen to The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble, you are probably going to have to leave any of these subjective perceptions of quality at the door. You cannot compare anything definitive to this project, another brainchild of the ceaselessly active and multifarious Jason Köhnen. He is best known for Bong-Ra, another project of his since 1996 that has emerged as one of the most respectable sources of quality breakcore, which is basically a fancy name for industrialized techno with heavy percussion and samples at high tempos. Most of his projects possess these obnoxiously non-descriptive names like breakcore, but he is obviously not to blame. In fact, when you are as constantly innovative as Köhnen, listeners have no choice but to make up sub-genres in order to express what tickles their fancy.

It is always easy to cover an artist that fits generic words like “breezy indie-pop” or “tender acoustics”, but when using these terms without further clarification it tends to be an indicative of lacking originality. Perhaps this is why I am lost when attempting to concisely describe The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble, as their swirling assortment of influences and stylistic directions allow the listener to take a full-bodied ride into unchartered territory with touches of jazz, post-rock, electronica, and IDM without being too overwhelming. The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble formed in 2000 out of mutual admiration for silent filmmakers that used powerful music to convey raw emotion in synchronization with visual content, an interesting influence since this concept is often lost in modern film-making for special effects and generic instrumental covers. Notable influences included F.W. Murnau, Fritz Lang , and even somewhat contemporary works by the likes of Jan Švankmajer (check out his 1988 stop-motion interpretation of Alice in Wonderland for some cool stuff). The members of The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble were so enthused by the passion of these filmmakers that Köhnen and co. began composing scores to already existent films, arranging soundtracks to the classic likes of Nosferatu and Metropolis in order to hone their experience in the most unique way possible.

As a true pursuer of stylistic ambitiousness, such tactics are hardly a surprise for followers of Köhnen. There is no method or style that seems beyond his reach. Bong-Ra played with everything from dance-rave to avant-garde jazz, a feat that was diverse enough to receive acclaim from the likes of John Peel (who included him as one of the 125 best Peel sessions ever). I admittedly find breakcore to be a frustrating genre, often sounding cluttered due to repetitive tempo or lack of melody altogether, but Köhnen’s work tends to appeal more to the majority despite his distinctively avant-garde leanings. Although his layers may have occasionally been too complex or his ideas overly thematic to grasp, Bong-Ra showcased a variety of genres like hip-hop and jazz that did not abide by breakcore’s very specific classification. In comparison to this, Köhnen’s new foray with The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble is more straightforward, but also packs more of an emotional punch than any of his earlier material. Whereas his previous work would have sounded best at a rave party, this work with The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble instead sounds like the ambiance of Hades, where contemplative sorrow is displayed more than impulsive excitement. The dramatic alteration in mood is one notable aspect of the transition to Köhnen’s new project, and it is not the only one either.

The stunning parts of The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble’s third album, Here Be Dragons, are abundant, but not in the instantaneously infectious sort of way many are used to. Keep in mind that this is the same sort of stuff that World’s End Girlfriend have done so well, where full-blown orchestras combine with jazz percussion to craft audible worlds that are bleak, serene, and chilling. Too in-depth to serve as a film soundtrack, the works of these artists are often overlooked due to the sheer complexity and scope of the project. The beautiful “Embers” is one of the more concise efforts on the album, but it still builds with collapsing thunder as brass, horns, and the ghostly vocals of Charlotte Cegarra evolve into both vocal-led emissions of fury and smoothly presented saxophone solos. The diversity on tracks like these throughout the album is absolutely extraordinary, a true landmark achievement even for an artist as eclectically inclined as Köhnen. “Embers” almost has that sort of ethereal, crystal-y feel to it that is reminiscent of Air’s Moon Safari days, especially in the way Beth Hirsch sent chills up listener’s spines on “All I Need” with her fragile croon. The parallel between the somber and free-fleeting moments of “Embers” are the best parts; the brass solos and detached vocal additions are juggled masterfully.

It would be acceptable if the rest of the album sounded like “Embers”, but any fans of the Utrecht-based Köhnen know that it is his tendency to mix things up. “Sirocco” is an amiable effort with the initial giddiness of Afro-pop keys making one of those oh-so-brilliant Köhnen mood transitions. Cegarra’s vocals appear alongside the strings, which sound very thick and reverb-heavy over a haunting melody that already portrays darker elements on its own. The percussion here is certainly influenced by his earlier works, as the industrial feel is heavily prevalent in both that and the backing atmospheric pads. “Mists of Krakatoa”, while lacking the general passion of the other two tracks, is exceptional for its sheer curiosity in blending Cegarra’s operatically inclined vocals again with strings, except unlike in “Sirocco” they collide here with a piano in minor key and the backing whirring of what faintly sounds like machines at work. This is less structurally cohesive than the others, like the fantastic opener “Lead Squid” or plucked goodness of “Caravan!”, but still retains its value through innovative sophistication and cumulative emotional expression. Some tracks on Here Be Dragons may take too long in their introduction or conclusion, but in their climaxes they will convey a type of innovation and musicianship that stands out even among the avant-garde.

RIYL: World’s End Girlfriend, Portishead, the later and more experimental years of Talk Talk

——————————————————————————————

The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble – Embers

——————————————————————————————

The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble – Sirocco

——————————————————————————————

The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble – Mists of Krakatoa

——————————————————————————————

Official Web Site

MySpace

BUY

The post The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Continuing with the stream of CMJ-bound artists, The Library are a bit different from what many expect at a festival of CMJ’s often frenetic vein. Often popular for artists that tout theatrical art-rock, synth-pounding dance-pop, or other forms of danceable bliss with high tempos, the audience at CMJ may initially be startled to hear this Brooklyn five-piece’s serene interpretation of folk. Deriving members from The Mayflies USA and The Comas, The Library draw most prominently from influences of ’70s. Neil Young’s more reflective material (On the Beach) is one of them, as are others that were precursors to the psyche-folk movement of the ’70s. The Library tend to integrate these influences with retrospective views of ’90s alternative-rock, even if the components are so subtle that only committed fans of certain artists could recognize them. Maybe it was how bands in the vein of Slowdive, Ride, and Spiritualized collided defiant alternative-rock with reverb-heavy doses of ’70s pop and folk, resulting in a path between shoegaze and nostalgic pop that established such artists as the most effective of the ’90s. Either way, The Library are safely following a similar path in attaining success through manipulating our perceptions of a style or genre often deemed as nostalgic.

Vocalist Matt Long is hardly a far cry from The Clientele’s Alasdair MacLean in vocal range and delivery, both using their admiration for ’60s pop and its subsequent sub-genre concoctions to create a world where melodies are both frail and beauty, with the emitted emotions being genuine and memorable. The Library’s new album, The Life and Times of Rosa Lee, combines this emotive sensibility with nostalgic stylistic references to compel listeners into a substantial accomplishment. “Tomorrow is Better” adds a slight twang to the predictably smooth accompaniment of hazy acoustics and usable percussion, adding in a harmonica for further effect over the subtle accompaniment of keys. This natural arsenal of instrumentation – guitar, rhythm, lap steel, and harmonica – generally compares to their earlier influences, even if the production is polished enough to easily spot its origination in the ’90s or ’00s. Slight components, like the lap steel arpeggio during the first verse, tend to sound more modernistic, while the beautiful bridge into a simplistically alluring chorus sounds like the work of a lost legend from the ’60s. “Tomorrow is Better” summarizes the sound of The Library exceptionally, it being a soothing and ethereal journey into the derivations of ’60s pop and folk while maintaining an emphasis on contemporary folk.

The romanticized contemplation expressed in “Tomorrow Is Better” serves well for the album’s general theme, with the opening “Wish I Knew” also expressing similar sentiments. Long’s vocals are particularly high-pitched but also relaxed here, probably adjusted for the use of strings that are similar in pitch. The result is a cohesively masterful arrangement that collides Long’s tenderly forlorn vocals, slow and emotive strings, and moderately paced acoustics into a breathtakingly exceptional track that serves as the perfect opener for The Life and Times of Rosa Lee. “You can call me up most anytime at all,” Long offers, merely requesting one chance to prove his point, “I promise not to be like them.” The Library are hardly like the others after all, abiding by their own standard and interpretation of nostalgic pop despite prevalent resemblances to The Clientele and other mood-based groups. Although it is certainly more of a mood track than one bursting with hooks, there are other tracks like “Tomorrow Is Better” and “Club Amnesia” on The Life and Times of Rosa Lee that emphasize more hooks than mood, with the self-titled cut also being one of them.

Keys and strings take over in absence of the initial acoustics on “The Life and Times of Rosa Lee”, leaving little room for vocal errors on Long’s part. The performance, barring one or two melodic miscues, is extremely commendable and genuine, its lo-fi production serving as the perfect closer to a highly impressive release that should provide some nice press for The Library before their CMJ appearance later this week. When the acoustics pick up after Long’s lyrics compel the listener about the overdue formation of a certain band, one can sense the passion for musical ingenuity within the songwriting and delivery. That their styles may derive from the past should only serve to supplement The Library’s amiable level of enjoyment. After all, in kicking off a decade of supposed stylistic declassification, everything seems fair game at this point.

RIYL: The Clientele, Slowdive, Belle & Sebastian, Felt, Neil Young, Ride

——————————————————————————————

The Library – Tomorrow Is Better

——————————————————————————————

The Library – Wish I Knew

——————————————————————————————

The Library – The Life and Times of Rosa Lee

——————————————————————————————

Official Web Site

MySpace

BUY

The post Brooklyn’s Favorite Library appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

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

——————————————————————————————

Midnight Juggernauts – This New Technology

——————————————————————————————

Midnight Juggernauts – Fantastic Valleys

——————————————————————————————

Midnight Juggernauts – This New Technology (Emperor Machine Remix)

——————————————————————————————

Official Web Site

MySpace

BUY

The post The Technology of Midnight Juggernauts appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

The importance of a first impression is something that has been stressed since humanity’s inception, with philosophers as early as Socrates noting its role in developing biases. Subsequent eras such as the Tudor period, Enlightenment, and others focused on the importance of social class emphasized the importance in keeping with appearances. This prompted a development of high culture that tended to rely on class distinctions instead of one’s origin or set of beliefs. First impressions were encouraged as a means to maintain this specific class, as the elite class tended to classify themselves not according to ideologies but instead more material things. An instance would be how salon culture during the Enlightenment practically mocked the importance of philosophers, as the upper class invited these prominent thinkers not to converse with them but rather to show off their capability in attaining them for leisure. This all relates to the importance of a first impression, as a system without hierarchy would have no need for such superficial requests. Our contemporary society remains similarly superficial, but its difference now is in how technology has made us become accustomed to instantaneous automation, leaving little room for individuals to reason beyond their first impression when discovering something new.

With this, the difficulty for an artist to differentiate their work becomes even more apparent. You can listen to hundreds of artists on this site and others, so how much time does an artist truly have to grab your attention before you move on? We now have such a broad output of available information and media that becoming more specific in our tastes is merely to be expected. But honestly, are we demanding accessibility over intricacy as a result? I hold the belief that the majority of art requires time and patience to truly appreciate, and I could not tell you how many classic albums I could have missed out on if I turned it off after the first listen. When we look at the most successful independent artists of the past decade, names like The Strokes, Arcade Fire, TV on the Radio, and Animal Collective come to mind. On the surface their styles do not possess many similarities, but they are all synonymous in creating stylistically distinctive material that packs just the right amount of accessibility to hook the listener and lure them in. Their mastery of their genres is led by the recognition of their audience, wisely seeing that their attention span in regard to new music is severely limited due to the rampant automation within our culture.

Their great songwriting and level of performance is likely enough to propel the Minnesota-based Total Babe to soaring heights. But what really alerts me about their potential is that Total Babe’s accessible frame of mind correlates with this decade’s biggest indie-rock successes in infusing innovation and accessibility. Gentle acoustic strums and hazy keys comprise the majority of this trio’s sound, establishing a breezy type of indie-pop that clashes with the grittiness of early ’90s alternative-rock to produce what sounds like a mix of lighthearted exuberance and tested experience. What brings much of this contemporary liking is Total Babe’s main vocalist, Clara Salyer. Her voice is a knockout force that maintains extreme ferocity throughout the six tracks on their debut EP, Heatwave. Think perhaps a more toned-down version of Neko Case or Karen O, as these vocalists also make extraordinary use of their femininely high-pitched vocal chords without resorting to the obnoxious twee-pop that many similar vocalists due undertake for its sheer ease. They are able to sound like a glowing angel at some points with a coo that demands affection, while also showing a transitional dependency to resort to yelps and screams in case the guitar amp is turned up a few notches. Salyer’s slurs and whispers make her delivery sound stream-of-conscious, which she uses to her advantage through invoking a sense of melodic wizardry that relies on word delivery and tone instead of its actual content.

The generally indistinguishable lyrical content could only exist in few genres while retaining success. Luckily, Total Babe’s lovely form of chamber-pop relies so much on sweeping arrangements and voracious hooks that Salyer’s incoherency actually adds some allure and mystery to the sound. Her most distinguishable phrases are often muttered in short bursts, varying from situations that are both cute and eerie. When she hums “oh me, oh my!” on “Short Stories”, it is hard not to succumb to the oh-so-cute vibe that the acoustics and subtle strings establish. The melody almost sounds like a medieval dance-about, with the ceaseless rush of alternating chords and accompanying strings providing excitement that most indie-rock rookies fail to even touch upon. “Bearbones” is more conventional in its indie-pop workings, introducing an array of twinkling organs over a basic acoustic guitar whose benefits are provided by Salyer’s reflective whimper. It is a sure winner though and I would be surprised if it is not their first single. Its main competition for that title is “Gary Coleman”, another strong effort lavished in delicate strings and strongly presented keyboard chords. The latter provide a sort of layer supplementation, making the area between acoustics and keyboard notes fuller and more satisfying. German readers may find that it sounds familiar, which is because it was featured in a German candy commercial. Tracks like these are indicative of Total Babe’s evident ability to produce top-notch indie-pop, finding a safe haven between chamber-pop and indie-rock to produce work that is strikingly memorable through its lavish hooks and outstanding vocal work.

RIYL: Field Music, Stereolab, Neko Case, Saint Etienne, Beth Orton, Pizzicato Five, The High Llamas

——————————————————————————————

Total Babe – Bearbones

——————————————————————————————

Total Babe – Short Stories

——————————————————————————————

Total Babe – Gary Coleman

——————————————————————————————

MySpace

BUY

The post The First Impression of a Total Babe appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

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

——————————————————————————————

UltraChorus – Scarlet Eyes

——————————————————————————————

UltraChorus – HouseParty 5

——————————————————————————————

UltraChorus – Bestin the Farther

——————————————————————————————

Official Web Site

MySpace

BUY

The post UltraChorus Goes Ultra-Def appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

In an age where audible masculinity is often associated with loud guitars and aggressive screaming, you are really putting yourself out in the open (and taking a few commercial risks) by shaping your vinyl records in the shape of a heart. Sociological standards have changed just as much, if not more, than music in the past seven decades, and to associate hearts with music nowadays seems to either involve Disney’s latest abstaining sensations or overly adorable indie-pop. Thus, to expect something modern-sounding out of Drew Cohen, better known Mayer Hawthorne, might be premature. After all, this is the same guy who asked his label, Stones Throw, if they could press his debut single like Bobby Caldwell did in the early ’80s, when his vinyl was pressed into the shape of a heart. The reason? Simply because the songs dealt with love. Taking a cue from a blue-eyed soul songwriter like Caldwell seems apt for Cohen, even if his his primary influences are actually scattered throughout the ’50s and ’60s. What is amicable among these soul songwriters, though, regardless of whether they originated in the ’50s or ’80s is the prevalence of ardency, even if it takes away a lot of the masculinity that rock ‘n’ roll instills. But for those music fans that are truly fans, this should be irrelevant. In the case of Cohen, the lack of self-concern is a breath of fresh air.

Detroit’s prominence nowadays mainly arises from high crime rates, but anyone without knowledge of the city’s illustrious musical history has a lot of great acts waiting for them (most of which they probably know). In that sense, it is one of the richest cities in the nation. The city has seen plenty of great rock acts – from Iggy & the Stooges to The White Stripes – emerge over the past couple decades, but perhaps Detroit’s most embodied sense of musical history was its role during the explosion of R&B and soul in the ’50s. Motown Records, important for both its role in racial desegregation and massive corporate success, is home to Detroit, as were artists like Smokey Robinson and The Temptations. The role of Detroit in building a foundation for future soul artists was integral. As a result, you can imagine the influence it had on the Detroit kids that were growing up in the ’50s and ’60s. Being surrounded by such a stylistically invigorating phase must have been invigorating and utterly memorable. For the artistically inclined growing up in Detroit, seeing the simultaneous abundance of rock ‘n’ roll, R&B, and soul from the early ’50s toward the late ’70s must have left a unique impression, one that perhaps made their future endeavors considerably more eclectic and nostalgic than their peers.

Growing up just outside of Detroit in Ann Arbor, Cohen’s childhood was surrounded by music. And although he was born too late for Detroit’s legendary era of rock and soul (he grew up in the ’80s), his father was not. A full-time owner of an auto-parts store and part-time musician, Cohen’s father introduced Motown to him at a young age. They would listen to Motown together on his way to work, with the younger Cohen asking his father dozens of questions for each song that came on the radio. The father would gladly respond with all the answers, igniting his son’s passion for music in the process. The ’80s was not an era when Motown was being played continuously on the radio, but we can all thank Mr. Cohen for being a bit behind the times and exposing his son to music that would eventually separate him from his peers in his musical career. It is ironic how something deemed as “outdated” can lead to freshly concocted ideas years afterward, perhaps showing that influences are never really outdated at all. Cohen’s father still unsurprisingly plays in a band back in Detroit, while he has been turning heads with his Mayer Hawthorne project. Originally started for pure fun, playing soul favorites for family and friends evolved into something more for Cohen. Considering Cohen had spent most of his time prior working as a DJ for underground hip-hop group Now On, some could say that his foray into soul music was like discovering a latent talent for the first time.

A fan of everything from hip-hop to grunge, Cohen’s interpretation of neo-soul on his debut A Strange Arrangement borrows both modernistic and retro components of pop and Motown to establish a release that separates itself from contemporaries like Raphael Saadiq and Lee Fields. The self-titled track is one of the album’s most stunning, taking the signature layers of Motown orchestration to produce a smooth and heavily seductive mixture of brass, piano, and guitars incorporated into a stunning rhythm section. The rhythm sounds casual and slowly paced, but the way it leads and develops the track’s peaks under Cohen’s absolutely stunning vocals is unforgettable. The main hook, signaled by the abrupt descending of bass notes, recalls The Stylistics and other Philly soul groups that treated listeners with smooth subtleties and lavish orchestration. “But I can’t stand by while you break my heart in two,” he laments during the hook, solidifying the timeless and old-fashioned gripes of unrequited love in ways so sincere that today’s youth is hardly familiar with it. This track is extremely reminiscent of the past, but many others on the album do assume a more contemporary standing.

“Just Ain’t Gonna Work Out” was the first song completed for the album and the one that prompted Stones Throw to commission Cohen for a full album. This one applies more swiftness and gradual guitar work, with the falsetto and backing vocals being more up-to-date with modern blue-eyed soul artists like Jamie Lidell. Meanwhile, “Maybe So, Maybe No” utilizes some crisp brass incorporated with funk (à la Matthew Herbert) to showcase some very intelligent songwriting. “Green Eyed Love” is quite fascinating for its hazy keyboard lead and updated production, sounding more along the lines of a stripped-down Gnarls Barkley than a ’60s soul artist. It always works though regardless of contemporary standing, and that in itself justifiably shows why A Strange Arrangement is one of the most enjoyably accessible debuts of the year.

——————————————————————————————

Mayer Hawthorne – A Strange Arrangement

——————————————————————————————

Mayer Hawthorne – Just Ain’t Gonna Work Out

——————————————————————————————

Mayer Hawthorne – Green Eyed Love

——————————————————————————————

Stones Throw Records

MySpace

BUY

The post A Strange Arrangement With Mayer Hawthorne appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Most of the time, this site features artists that are deemed “obscure” despite some recent buzz. An artist previously covered by a major publication is rarely featured, mainly because I would feel irrelevant in writing about something already exposed and beaten to death. Nonetheless, the artists that are featured usually have recent buzz or praise that led me to them in the first place. Submissions are a major part of discovering a feature, but occasionally I stumble upon a band on my own that is in dire need of recognition. Even if I tend to appear in the first wave of press, I am rarely the first or second publication to cover a specific band. But when it happens and I become enamored with an artist that possesses little current fanfare or press, I find the coverage to be even more personally rewarding. For one thing, I know increased exposure is practically imminent for the given artist, and being in that “first wave” of press allows me to hypothesize the artist’s eventual impact without any unintentional bias supplied by other sources of information. Sure, I found The Yes Pleases because their album was submitted to me, but when I started listening to their material I expected a boatload of info and praise online just due to the quality of the submitted album alone. Surprisingly, I was wrong. This group’s period of big recognition is imminently ahead of them.

To The Yes Pleases’ credit, getting recognition in Seattle is like trying to stand out in a the crowd of any major city. There is so much to see and listen to that it is not rare for a local act to go overlooked, regardless of their quality or potential. Their appearance is practically a vague enigma at this point, amassing less than 5000 views on MySpace and supplying a few non-descriptive sentences for their bio. Something tells me they should update it soon though; their amount of plays should be increasing very soon. Clearly a young DIY group, the four-piece from Seattle strikes any listener as the antithesis of a pretentiously consumed indie-rock band. They list their influences in conventional form, listing everyone from The Beatles to John Coltrane as an influence; like most level-headed groups in or recently out of college, they recognize influences as the sounds that shaped them, not necessarily which groups they sound most like. If that was the case, late ’80s and early ’90s alternative-rock would fit them nicely. Think Sebadoh, Dinosaur Jr., and Guided by Voices as the basis for their guitar-based sound. Add in a few contemporary electronics, like gurgling synths and polished production, and you have the general sound of The Yes Pleases’ debut album.

From Whence It Came is The Yes Pleases’ debut, but the maturity expressed on the album would suggest they have been working together longer than that. Although their sound is often rooted in a consistent re-interpretation of early ’90s alternative and grunge, their reluctance to stray within one context or era is commendable for a band as young as they are. In fact, the album’s opener hardly abides by any past stereotypes. Similar to the way My Morning Jacket’s recent Evil Urges saw fresh experimentation go hand-in-hand with expected sounds of the past, From Whence It Came is a predominately alternative album that begins with a track more reminiscent of electronic-pop and dance. Vocalist Josh Bate usually sounds most influenced by ’60s pop and ’90s alternative with a retrospective whimper that alternates in tone, but the opening “Designer” finds him more synchronized with ’70s disco than anything else. A few cheap-sounding synths illustrate a repetitive guitar melody nicely, along with a chant-along chorus that almost sounds cheesy enough to serve as an interlude for Project Runway. I am not particularly fond of this effort, but I commend the group for attempting an opener that truly defies what the rest of the album brings. It makes things a lot more unpredictable throughout, which can be beneficial for a group of The Yes Pleases’ young nature.

To get a sense of where The Yes Pleases’ are truly coming from, the second effort on the album shows that well. “70%” cranks up a trashy guitar progression that are eventually complemented by a subtle whiff of high-pitched keys. Unlike “Designer” though, these are too minimal to take hold of the track and alternate its genre. Bate’s vocals show their true power here, recalling both Frank Black and Robert Pollard in his alternation between gruff choruses and high-pitched emotive choruses. The intensity and energy is never lacking, and “70%” is one of the best efforts on the debut with a remarkable chorus that evolves very intelligently from a linear melodic progression. The album’s self-titled track brings us back to their ’60s pop influences, especially when it introduces a psychedelic chorus that brings parts Sublime and parts Zombies to the forefront; the interweaving of various vocal melodies over the hazy keyboard progressions are some of the best moments on the album. The latter part of the album offers up more memorable efforts, both in the intensified vein of rockers like “Don’t Say We’re There Yet” and charming acoustical, key-based tracks like the oddly titled “Successful Face Transplant”. The former of the two is one of the best displays of Bate’s vocals as well, possessing a soaring Jim James-like voice that can make even the simplest progressions sound grandiose and anthemic. The quality of From Whence It Came is not to be doubted, only this group’s direction. Judging from this though, evolution seems to be likely, eventually propelling The Yes Pleases to great heights that their evident talents will dictate.

——————————————————————————————

The Yes Pleases – From Whence It Came

——————————————————————————————

The Yes Pleases – 70%

——————————————————————————————

The Yes Pleases – Don’t Say We’re There Yet

——————————————————————————————

Official Web Site

MySpace

BUY

The post The Yes Pleases appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.