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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Kanine Records

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

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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The media has an interesting way of molding stereotypes within the music industry, regardless of the feature’s innovation or commitment. If a style, song, or particular theme even slightly resembles a popular mold of the past, there appears to be a lesser form of venerability for whatever artist has succeeded it. Now whenever a contemporary group attempts to implement African stylings into a style highly reminiscent of indie-pop, they come to expect rampant comparisons to a group like Vampire Weekend, even if the differing components between groups is unavoidable to the attentive listener. Most major outlets, from the New York Times to the LA Times, have covered this Afro-pop revival of sorts at one point, often mentioning how Paul Simon’s Graceland was an unmistakeable influence for this band and others on successful stylistic debuts. It is undoubtedly true that Simon holds an influence on many of these groups, which are mostly indie-pop newcomers like Vampire Weekend that have utilized subtle components of the genre to cloak a style that is only minimally different from typical indie-pop. Other contemporary groups like Akron/Family, The Walkmen, and Born Ruffians have used it more commendably, opting to . It is commendable for a group like Vampire Weekend to successfully imitate an exotic style and fuse it with something domestically familiar, but I have always been more enthralled by groups like The Walkmen that attempt the fusion in a subtle, more non-imitable form.

It is hard to blame the press for covering groups like Vampire Weekend to an overbearing extent, as they often cater to an audience that listens to singles instead of albums. One must keep in mind though that their lack of staying power is evident by the lack of diversity within their debut, which is very contrary to the likes of The Walkmen or Akron/Family. These groups include their Afro-pop influences as only one color on a painting full of dozens, while the likes of Vampire Weekend seem rather monochromatic in comparison. The LA-based Fool’s Gold use their adoration for Afro-pop quite prominently, but not to the flawed extent where it comprises the entirety of their audible appearance. What separates them from the rest is their designed usage of differing influences; Afro-pop is used more prominently than Akron/Family’s diversified material, but it is not as in-your-face as Vampire Weekend after they turn from cutely adorable to durably obnoxious. In fact, “world music” might fit more aptly for Fool’s Gold, as they combine everything from middle-eastern folk to jazz fusion. The Afro-pop influence is most prominent, but it is not cloaked under generic shades of Americanized pop music. Fool’s Gold is a collective that is too eclectic, experienced, and ambitious for something like that.

The members of Fool’s Gold are not exactly strangers to the game of success; they have all, in some way or form, found a fanbase and/or acclaim with previous efforts. The actual number of members seems to fluctuate, but there are usually a dozen or so that accompany frontmen Luke Top and Lewis Pesacov. Pesacov’s guitar work will sound familiar to fans of the previously featured Foreign Born, another one of his fun LA-based indie-rock groups that released a delightful second album this year. His chirpy, concise guitar progressions always recall the glistening heat of summer, complemented by a highly emotive vocalist in both Foreign Born and Fool’s Gold, Matt Popieluch in the former and Luke Top in the latter. Top provides a deeper and more diversified version of Popieluch’s anthemic croon, all while retaining the same sort of youthful exuberance the makes the occasional campfire odes, exotic delicacies, and other forms of experimentation within the material of Fool’s Gold that much more accessible. Sharing a common love for both American pop music and the open-mindedness to explore music from other countries, the mutual ideologies and skills of Pesacov and Top make them appear as if they were destined to work together. Fool’s Gold self-titled debut shows that at the very least, in addition to showing music fans some great world influences touched with a dab of American pop music. In rare an commendable form, it is not vice versa for once.

The Israeli-born Top makes his voice present by using more than his empowering vocal chords. His native Hebrew is actually the predominant language sung throughout Fool’s Gold, an interesting maneuver considering much of the music stems from African influences. As someone not even slightly familiar with the language, though, I can say that the accentuation adds wonderfully to the components of Afro-pop, most noticeably the backing vocals and constant percussion that echo the genre’s traditions beautifully. “The World Is All There Is” is a track that is arguably most indicative of this, seeing a cast of backing cast following along with Pesacov’s shimmering guitar progression. Sure, Afro-pop is clearly abundant here, but there is an interesting dynamic at play. Pesacov’s guitar, despite its African accompaniment, is more typical of indie-pop, while Top’s Hebrew vocals add yet another beautiful influence at play. Whether this song is played at an African music festival, a bar in NYC, or a hookah bar in Israel, it would likely go over very well.

“Poseidon” presents a keyboard-laden hook that contains a melody more suitable for the Far East, adding to the group’s exotic allure in an even grander sense. One of the most captivating tracks, though, is the excellent “Yam Lo Moshech”, a highly infectious fusion of dance and new-wave pop that uses some explosive brass and an impressively evolving rhythm section to construct one of the most impressive tracks on the album. “Surprise Hotel” is quite fun as the album’s opener, even if it lacks differentiation from Foreign Born or many similarly entitled acts. Still, it is an infectious effort that grows enough to deserve its imminent airplay. Latter efforts on the album, like “Yam Lo Moshech” and “Night Dancing”, expose the group’s more experimental side with bursts of brass and even larger doses of unpredictability, eventually becoming more rewarding despite their initial cautions. Backed by a cast that includes members of a variety of bands, from We Are Scientists to The Fall, the tight musicianship on Fool’s Gold creates a very organic feel that is caused by the meshing of foreign influences and quality songwriting that has no reliance on sparkling production or overly elaborate tactics. It is an album that will grow on listeners by itself, eventually revealing itself as one of the most intricately impressive releases of the year.

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Fool’s Gold – Surprise Hotel

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Fool’s Gold – Yam Lo Moshech

***TRACK REMOVED UPON REQUEST OF IAMSOUND RECORDS***

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Fool’s Gold – Night Dancing

***TRACK REMOVED UPON REQUEST OF IAMSOUND RECORDS***

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Fool’s Gold – The World Is All There Is

***TRACK REMOVED UPON REQUEST OF IAMSOUND RECORDS***

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IAMSOUND Records

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The post Fool’s Gold appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Nathan Pemberton refuses to abide by the DIY stereotype. He records in his Florida garage with an economical home studio, which supplies just enough firepower for him to make his innovations come alive. But despite the allure of lo-fi minimalism that comes attached with these modest circumstances, Pemberton is pursuing the most majestic sound possible in accordance to his personal repertoire. He is a multi-instrumentalist in the truest sense, using his experience with a multitude of instruments to encompass his material in its entirety. There are few collaborators to be heard, only the ideas of Pemberton and his five friends/roommates as they flow gracefully in a mixture of epic jams and dreamily intricate indie-rock. They go under the alias of Holiday Shores, a name that will certainly be reputable by year’s end. Hip-hop, punk or metal, and lo-fi pop have always seemed to be the easiest to tackle with a home studio due to their respective forays in sampling, tremolo riffs, and bare minimalism, but Pemberton, Holiday Shores’ songwriter, seems to have crafted a winning combination with doses of heartfelt pop nostalgia and contemporary indie-rock wizardry. He possesses the ambition of a jam band or post-rock experimenters, all while retaining the pop sensibilities that fellow genre-mashing contemporaries like Sunset Rubdown and Deerhunter have flawlessly exhibited throughout the past several years. But do not overly associate Holiday Shores with these acts. After all, their greatest strengths are in their own ideas, not the inspiration of others.

Being seemingly aware of your past and present is simply one of Pemberton’s strengths, as concocting an original sound from a variety of influences is not the only ingredient required for success. Songwriting and flow are both elements that are overlooked by many groups new and old, not necessarily because they disvalue it but because it is so difficult to combine great and captivating songwriting with a sound that is entirely your own, whether it derives from past successes or not. Pemberton accomplishes this tricky venture with rare precision, making the best of his garage studio to unveil his enigmatic voice and compositional prowess in a manner that should mark Holiday Shores as one of 2009’s breakthrough acts. Pemberton’s pop sensibilities often result in songs barely exceeding four minutes, but both his capitalization of minimal resources and extremely impressive grasp of several instrumentals combine for unconventional endeavors that make four-minute efforts feel epic in the best way possible. For instance, the sputtery “Days Drag” uses the echoes of guitar distortion to craft an initial feeling of rough-edged repetition, only to be beautifully complemented by a twinkling bundle of keys. The transitional phases that this song encompasses, like many others on its album, are always one step ahead of their subsequent outcomes, resulting in an album full of replay value.

On Holiday Shores’ debut album, Columbus’d The Whim, the initial development always turns into something extremely gratifying and precise, like the keys in “Days Drag” or the evolution of muffled percussion into expansive hi-hats in “Tremor Rolls the Peak”. These turns are unexpected, but Pemberton’s strong pop ties often make the ideas sound extremely appealing after the second or even first listen. A beauty like “Edge of Our Lives” requires only a few minutes to recognize its brilliance though, sounding like the perfect mash of a lost ‘60s classic and today’s indie-pop breeziness. I would be surprised if it is not a college-radio favorite by year’s end. Between Pemberton’s tranquil voice, the interweaving guitar arrangements, and explosive hook that the chorus crisply generates, this is a surefire accomplishment in every regard. That it is difficult to spot the hook I am referring to is part of the song’s allure; there are so many different methods of achieving melodic greatness here that describing only one is an injustice. There also seems to be a slight undertone of jazz in the use of keys and guitar, again beckoning to jam bands of the past and their tendency to unveil pop hooks under an intricate cast of evolving instrumentation. This may be one of the album’s more accessible tracks, but there are few that show the group’s apparent high level of musicianship as well.

Comparisons, as I mentioned before though, are a bit extraneous in regard to Holiday Shores, as so many influences can be found in their sound that it eventually becomes influentially indistinguishable. However, as a songwriter and vocalist, Pemberton seems to recall the ingenious ability of Tom Verlaine most vividly. Like many up-and-coming indie-rock acts these days, the work of Verlaine and Television is a strong influence in Pemberton’s sound. This is most notable in his songs’ ability to evolve into full-scaled epics, usually with the innovative pushing of a particular instrument (most often in a soaring guitar solo or trickle of keys). He also emits a similar croon, finding a warm place between nasally elegance and brittle yelps over series of concise guitar progressions and hectically implemented keyboards. It all depends on the track though, as Columbus’d The Whim is so enthused with its own ambition that it achieves greatness on its innovation alone. But considering it IS a pop album at heart, the stellar songwriting of Pemberton certainly helps the cause. Both fans of modern indie-rock and nostalgic pop music will likely embrace Holiday Shores because of this, not only because it can remind them of their favorite bands, but also allow them to discover a new one in the process. I consider Columbus’d The Whim one of this year’s must-haves. It is an enormous accomplishment for any album, making its status as a debut album that much more impressive.

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Holiday Shores – Edge of Our Lives

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Holiday Shores – Tremor Rolls the Peak

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Holiday Shores – Days Drag

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MySpace

Two Syllable Records

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The post A Holiday Shores Getaway appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

In one room sits a huddled group of professionals, ranging from for-pay songwriters to conniving promoters. Their eyes are all on a whiteboard that lists several opportunities for their fledging client on this starry Friday night. Should he show up at a star’s birthday party, present at an awards show, or attend a charity dinner? It must be such a hassle to be forced to choose just one. Most of the independent groups featured here would probably laugh at such a scenario, either shocked or appalled at the fact that publicity is more important than the music itself these days. But can you really blame those who take advantage of it? When you have a travelling circus of songwriters, performers, and executives by your side throughout the touring and studio sessions, is there really anything else to do apart from flaunting a pretty face and throwing some vocals into an auto-tuner? Artists often struggle to resist the allure of automated production like this, with the major labels hot after a certain talent or superficial component that they can manipulate and promote to produce millions. You are guaranteed a house in Malibu and a new collection of sports cars, but your artistic integrity will be forever plagued, even if the PR firm expertly crafts the image that YOU are the songwriter and not some struggling professional with a knack for melody. Some artists hardly have a choice in the matter, but others are able to find the perfect divide between polished, accessible production and DIY ethics.

The XX playfully list their influences in regard to opposite spectrums, commercial success and cult success. It is not so much dependent on style, but instead how similar approaches can end up differing dramatically based on the pressures of derivative automation. They like everything from Aaliyah to CocoRosie, Rihanna to The Cure, and Missy Elliott to Chromatics. Some sharp contrasts, sure, but their message is clear in describing their influences this way. This London-based quartet is the antithesis of independent elitism, showing both their adoration for mainstream pop music and independent stylistic mash-ups with a sound that contains the commercially receptive allure of acts like Rihanna and Aaliyah but without the repetitive, industrialized facades that tarnish their images. Perhaps this applies not so much in teen America or MTV’s headquarters, but more in regard to readers of this site. You obviously come here to discover bands that have little to no recognition as of its publishing date, and to produce something that I and others deem quality without substantial recognition usually means that ambition and/or innovation has prevented the act from scaling the dizzying heights of national recognition. I do know that many listeners of these acts strive to be “ironic” for the hell of it, but it is hard to imagine anything more ironic than innovation and ambition serving as detriments to an artist’s career opportunities.

In another ironic twist of sorts, perhaps The XX’s maturity can be attributed to their young age. It sounds nearly contradictory, but these four schoolyard friends from southwest London clearly embody a new musical philosophy that seems completely aware of the fact that pop music does not need to be overproduced, stylistically derivative, or full of Hollywood cameos in order to manufacture great hooks. It is a rare and admirable sight to behold, especially when art-rock natives like the Arctic Monkeys lately appear more focused on whether their songs are good enough for radio airplay than the album itself. Unlike most of their contemporaries, The XX have crafted an album, not a collection of songs that they jumbled together for purposes of exposure. The desperation is clearly not prevalent for the four-piece, which is all the more admirable when one considers that they are barely out of their teens. For their debut album, 2.0, it is audibly indicative that the members stayed up well past their bedtimes. Like Junior Boys or early Air, 2.0 possesses a late-night feel that can be attributed to serene soundscapes, mostly led by a rumbling rhythm section that paces itself perfectly. It complements chilly synths and husky vocals with absolute precision, alternating between concise bass lines and highly rhythmic propulsions when the song calls for it. It helps that, like many musicians, The XX seem to work almost exclusively at night. The quality shows.

Oliver Sim and Romy Madley Croft are responsible for these aforementioned vocals, showing their beautiful abilities in the form of both duets and solo accompaniments. Their voices often sound trapped in an icicle-laden cave, the reflection of reverb becoming apparent due to the minimalistic arrangements. Synthesizers and guitars collide in the beautiful “Infinity” as both interchangeably emit a soulful croon, with a slight tinge of Afro-pop being evident in the spright keys of the similarly presented “Basic Space”. This track reminds me of a Matthew Herbert effort; the arrangement evolves into an absolutely brilliant progression as Croft’s angelic vocals become complemented by Sim’s low, grizzly croon. He himself sounds a bit like Rufus Wainwright, perhaps driven by the seductive mixture of icy keys and slick guitar tremolos. “Crystalised” is another standout, opening with two simultaneous guitar progressions before unfolding into a largely bass-driven gem. The vocals of Sim and Croft do an exceptional job of building into the chorus, first delving into a duet before the explosive chorus of guitars, bass, and subtle samples that illustrate a sense of urgency with a distantly operatic synth pad. “We just keep on getting closer,” they sing before this moment occurs, once again showing that irresistible pop hooks can unfold from even the simplest of circumstances. 2.0 may be deemed minimalistic by casual admirers of pop music, but the fact is that The XX’s debut is more intricate and involved than most releases you are bound to pick up this year. All 11 tracks unfold with beauty, elegance, and precision, never hesitant to surprise a listener with innovation enclosed in an atmosphere of slight familiarity. 2.0 needs to be heard, as it is easily one of the best debuts of 2009.

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The XX – Basic Space

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The XX – Crystalised

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The XX – Infinity

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Rough Trade Records

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With summer in full gear, some artists have to take a temporary backseat to the seasonal bias that is subtly prevalent in most people. For me, choosing an artist to listen to in my free time is not dependent on the weather, but rather my current emotional state and which style I feel would be most compatible with it. However, the seasons do play a role in my selections from time to time. On a beautiful summer day I would probably choose the likes of Springsteen over a gloomier group like Joy Division or The Smiths, with vice versa applying if clouds took the place of the sun. Few can argue that certain music sounds better during certain times and certain weather. With this in mind though, it is worth noting that one’s perception of a suitable atmosphere can be wildly subjective. However, it is hard to make the definition of “summer music” skewed, even if it is up to the listener’s personal taste to compile their own perfect summer mixtape. Contrary to the belief of most mainstream pop artists, a summer hit does not need to have the word “summer” in the title to achieve its status as a seasonal gem. Topics involving big waves, surfer girls, and the boardwalk could help, but it is hardly the most definitive factor.

The word “breezy” has been used time and time again to describe artists with a certain demeanor, one that defies the boundaries of pop without straying too far into hectic structural ploys. This sense of semi-capriciousness coincides with the carefree exuberance that summer often gives off, mainly due to a combination of increased relaxation time and warm weather. Listeners want something that is captivating and original, but not something that is going to detract from their relaxation time with overbearing ambition or artistic flops. The Beach Boys are a rather stereotypical example of a summer group, but also arguably the best one. The bulk of their material was accessible and melodically captivating, but hidden under their receptively good vibrations were reoccurring themes and harmonic intricacies that made their music much more than radio-friendly pop music. Brian Wilson was a songwriter who valued melodic cohesiveness as much as thematic intricacies that was present in both his musical and lyrical content. And with the concurrent themes of riding big waves and basking in the summer sun, I doubt anyone could argue against The Beach Boys being the most consummate summer-pop group of all-time.

It seems unfair to introduce a new songwriter after describing one of the greatest in Brian Wilson, but while Chris Velan does not boast the stylistic innovations or genius-level showmanship of such a predecessor, his potential for producing greatly effective summer pop music is blatant. His songs are often led by tendencies that appear outwardly conventional, like linear guitar progressions in strict 4/4 or the expected assortments of rockers and ballads. But like influences in the vein of Wilson, Velan possesses a creative peak that is unparalleled by most of his contemporaries, even if it is only subtly prevalent. On the surface, his charming blend of acoustical pop, Americanized reggae, and suave R&B may remind some listeners of Jason Mraz or Slightly Stoopid, but Velan’s material is considerably more diverse than either of them. The Montreal native can attribute his eclectic qualities to his forays in music throughout his life, doing it all from fronting a reggae band to scoring music for a film. In addition to this, Velan grew up on both his dad’s favorites (Leonard Cohen, Dylan, Van Morrison) and his sister’s cassette tapes (’80s new-wave). This put him on the path of music at an early age, even if a few pit stops along the way (the lawyer profession, in his case) put the whole solo singer/songwriter thing on hold for a bit. After two overlooked albums though, his third one appears most likely to receive exposure.

Solidago is hardly a showy album, but it deserves recognition for its consistency and melodic goodness. Velan has plenty of good ideas, and even though they are occasionally not expanded upon enough, he is able to capture them without it becoming tireless or agitated. One has to admire him for his diversity, whether it is for the twinkling indie-pop on “Oldest Trick”, the brassy mix of R& and reggae on “Pauper in a Palace”, or the cheery reggae in “Hunting Season”. The latter finds Velan channeling classic influences like Burning Spear and contemporary fusion artists like Michael Franti, with the occasional brass and rhythmic combustions adding nice flair to a genre that has too many imitators and not enough innovators. A song like “Oldest Trick” works with little more than a guitar and synthesizer, the latter arriving most prominently during the anthemic chorus. Velan’s nasally vocals here are reminiscent of Tom Petty’s, which makes for a rather nice tone under an undercurrent of acoustic guitars. It gives off a classic-folk vibe, sitting nicely on the album between the alt-rock leanings of “Wobbly Bones” and the reggae-influenced “Hunting Season”. “No one’s gonna knock on your door,” he sings during “Wobbly Bones”, one of his many comparisons of death to the desire for absolute solitude. It is one of the few showings of bitterness and melancholy throughout the album, but along with the similarly bleak “Out of Range” it shows that his usually upbeat demeanor does not detract from sentimental moments like these. They both reach extraordinary heights.

Velan’s Solidago is not a great summer album simply because it has great melodies that are often accompanied by gentle acoustic strums and Velan’s calming voice. Like Wilson, he also shows a fondness for the art of underlying pop accessibility with further intricacies that involve eclectic stylistic tendencies, thematic consistencies, and differing moods (check out the differences between an optimistic track like “House Upon the Hill” and the somber build-up of “Out of Range”; it is very enjoyable). Velan may come off like just another gifted songwriter with room to grow on the surface, but those who look more in-depth throughout Solidago should be convinced of his potential. Check it out when it is released on July 14th. Its mid-summer release date is quite apt, considering Velan clearly values the true meaning of quality summer music. If you are looking for great tunes that can be enjoyed during scenarios of both relaxation on the beach and thought-provoking conversations with friends, Solidago is the way to go. It is Velan’s finest effort yet.

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Chris Velan – Pauper in a Palace

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Chris Velan – Hunting Season

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Chris Velan – Oldest Trick

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Are eccentric artistic tendencies hereditary? Like eye color or facial characteristics, I would not be surprised if they were, mainly because I have witnessed friends that walk and talk eerily similar to one of their parents. Whether or not musical talent is hereditarily passed down is too theoretical to be argued for or against, so I tend to think that one’s upbringing has more to do with it than anything. If one is constantly surrounded by music and their idol, presumably a parent, is a musician, what else do they have to look up to and aspire to be? Like all children of parents in a professional occupation, there are advantages to be had here. Most kids that want to learn music are hammered with traditional songbooks and stiff learning routines. Some, though, are raised on it. Traditionalists may argue that theoretical mastery is the key to musical ability, but actual experience seems to be the prevailing factor in most cases. In regard to the passing down of “musical genes”, there are examples to cover each end of the spectrum. Jeff Buckley, Rufus Wainwright, and Femi Kuti all stand as exceptionally talented musicians, but their history leads fans to different circumstances despite a few shared characteristics. They all have a musically renowned father and later found future success of their own, but their differing relationships may elude to whether musical ability can be hereditary.

The sons and daughters of famous musicians could have their own capacity to resourcefully create their own music, but it is just as likely that their talents can be attributed to their parents in some way. Jeff Buckley is an example of a reputable musician with a famous father, but his talents and style are undoubtedly his own. He only met his father, Tim, once before his death when Jeff was 11. While his father’s career may have inspired him to pursue music full-time, Jeff Buckley was given no special treatment. His lack of guidance suggests that, perhaps, music simply runs in his blood. Then you have a case like Femi Kuti, whose father Fela Kuti is legendary for his prolific discography and upbringing of afro-pop. Femi initially lived with his mother, but went to live with his father when he was 15. A few years later, Fela gave his son a spot among his all-star performers on stage and the experience needed to pursue his own career. Nowadays, Femi boasts a consistent discography that separates him from his father’s work, while not entirely dismissing the vital experience he was given due to his father’s esteemed status. The differences between Buckley and Kuti show that musical talent is found too often on a case-by-case basis to assume whether it is hereditary or not, but it also shows that musicians tend to impact the lives of the people they influence, whether they are related to them or not.

Although there are many musicians that do not pursue parenthood, the ones that do often vary dramatically in the relationship with their children. Some go off on tour and never return due to indifference, but others are genuinely interested in the happenings of their children… and maybe even their children’s friends. Such is the case with R. Stevie Moore, the prolific producer and songwriter whose accomplishments in both fields are admired by most in the music industry. His genre-bending and technological innovations in music seem nearly endless, and his contributions do not stop there. He gave a former bandmate’s son, who is also interested in music, the proper knowledge as he was growing up, exposing him to his material and quirky innovation in the process. As a result, it is not surprising that the kid’s band, Big Fresh, seems nearly like a replica of the elder Moore’s unique craftsmanship. The group consists of the collaborator’s son and his longtime friends, all thankful for the privilege to work with the legend. This video from 1999 shows just how great Moore seems with these kids, playing a rendition of Moore’s “Why Should I Love You?” from his classic 1976 debut, Phonography. The band is understandably rough there, but they certainly show some potential for their age. And now ten years later, it looks like Big Fresh’s potential has finally caught up to them.

After a debut that showed plenty of promise but not enough execution, Big Fresh returns with a second album that explains why they are so renowned in their native Lexington, Kentucky. Big Fresh Forever is an album that expands upon the group’s electro-pop repertoire, now complementing lush synths and bouncy bass lines with overlapping vocal melodies, eccentric structural transitions, and stylistic intricacies that show an increasing amount of ambition among the band members. Mixed by Robert Schneider (The Apples in Stereo), Big Fresh Forever takes the lo-fi brilliancy of Moore and combines it with the psychedelic musings of Elephant 6 standards like Schneider. “W.L.U.V.” shows off the group’s nostalgic leanings, complete with the crackling of vinyl as they sing about an Illinois radio station over the twinkling of keys and the “la-la-la”-ing backing vocals. It is electronic pop, but its minimalism results in one of the more restrained tracks on the album. That is not to say it is lacking in any way though, as it is nice way to begin a dense album with a track that is purely accessible. Songs like “W.T.O.” and “Entertainment” recall electro-pop surveyors like Chin Chin and Hilotrons with their thick synthesizers and swift implementation of acoustics, topped off by cartoon-ish vocals that echo Frank Zappa’s early material. As you can see, the comparisons to other groups are abundant but Big Fresh mix and match enough genres to call the varying stylistic results their own.

“Large Crowds” stands as one of Big Fresh’s biggest accomplishment though, introducing the listener to an otherworldly atmosphere that is the band’s own. It sounds as if The Flaming Lips combined with Depeche Mode, covering both spectrums of electronic pop with serenely entrancing synth lines and slickly utilized guitar progressions. The catchy “Satan, No” is more reflective of Of Montreal with its satirical lyrical content and key-led assortment of varying rhythmic transitions, made even funkier by an electronic edge that shows the group’s production chops and percussive emphasis. I guess it helps that R. Stevie Moore and Robert Schneider had a hand though, as their experience with the subtle grace of lo-fi production is practically unparalleled. For Big Fresh, their contributions on Big Fresh Forever contributes to a successful album that finds a young group inching closer to their eventual sound. The variety of comparisons warrants some indecisiveness, but there is so much to like on Big Fresh Forever that these insufficiencies can be overlooked. After all, any famous musician would be proud of an album like this, whether a family friend was involved or not.

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Big Fresh – Large Crowds

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Big Fresh – Satan, No

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Big Fresh – W.L.U.V.

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From crocodiles to woodpigeons, I have featured a surprising number of bands that resort to their animalistic side for their namesake. Many of us have, at one point, come across the Discovery Channel to learn something that shocks us about animals. Whether it involves mating rituals or hibernation, there are certain behavioral characteristics in animals that make the human race seem dull in comparison. Perhaps this can explain why so many artists opt for an animalistic connection, one that makes their appearance seem more enigmatic and naturally inclined than the human species. Or perhaps it can be deployed in a symbolic manner, like the recently featured Bowerbirds. Unbeknownst to me before I wrote about them, the male bowerbird holds a colorful object in its beak to attract females during mating season. As it turns out, they do so to compensate for their lack of coloring, adorning their bowers with dead insects and other objects to distinguish themselves from the females. We can all agree that this tidbit is interesting, but how does it relate to an indie-rock band? For Bowerbirds, their style of instrumentation valued quality over quantity; the sparse amount of instruments was compensated for by arrangements brimming with passion, authenticity, and irresistible hooks. The group collected influences and ideas and wore them on their sleeves. Like the bird in their namesake, this distinction attracted an audience and distinguished them from their contemporaries.

For our next animal feature, we turn to a reptile with a reputation of being particularly rowdy. Who could it be kids? If you guessed Alligators, you are correct! Like Bowerbirds, this Seattle-based quintet takes pride in their name, even if the comparison to the scaly reptile is more ambiguous than that of a comparison to a bowerbird. Alligators claim that the animal in their namesake “have a peculiar mystique surrounding their existence”, citing the band’s own small-town upbringing as an example of a band that has risen out of ambiguity to hopefully conquer the nation’s attention span. Since their days in the local music scene of the greater Bremerton area in Washington, the five members in Alligators have been slowly climbing to the top. Longtime friends and collaborators, most of them were professionally trained in music and they all encompass a similar range of musical influences. They all mention Radiohead, the Beach Boys, and the Zombies most prominently, which is quite apt considering their sound borders between melodic experimentation and accessible pop. It is very typical of contemporary indie-rock, but their songwriting and ambitious song structures make their debut album, Piggy and Cups, something to get excited over.

The songs on Piggy and Cups vary in their introductory stages, ranging anywhere from the lush acoustical balladry of “If You Want To” to the rushing guitars of “Original Fear”. Regardless of where these efforts start though, they tend to almost always unfold into something highly excitable and genuinely enthralling. That may lead some to assume that Alligators are simply a continuation of the long line of generic indie-rockers that linger today, but even one listen to a creatively diverse song like “Original Fear” should calm those qualms. Joshua Trembley begins the track with vocals that appear more subdued than usual, only to introduce the listener to a falsetto-like range that coincides with increased intricacy in the guitar progressions and rhythm section. When Trembley proclaims, “When I woke up to the light of day,” the meatiest section of the track occurs, and boy is it good. The flashback to ‘90s alt-rock here is prominent, and the song’s conclusion with roaring guitars and coo-ing backing vocals is even better. Trembley demonstrates such intense emotion throughout this gem, perhaps taking away the spotlight from some great performances and intensely excelling songwriting. Repeated listens will solidify this song’s success though, and other gems on the album will be enjoyed similarly. The flow of Piggy and Cups is something that continues to impress me after a few listens; each song flows into one another more cohesively than most indie-rock groups these days, and for a group as ambitious as Alligators that is certainly an important skill to have.

Although I find too many of the songs on Piggy and Cups to contain too much structural diversity to become radio staples, there is no denying that a patient listener will surely be rewarded by the debut. It is a shame when actual intricacy and focus hinders an artist’s potential for recognition, so Piggy and Cups is yet another remarkable indie-rock debut that may be too diverse for its own commercialized good. The album’s opener and one of the more accessible efforts, “Where Does It Hide”, opens simplistically enough with linear guitar progressions and very ‘90s-like reverbed vocals, paving the way to a one-dimensional chorus that depends on halted guitars and vocal quips. However, both the verse and chorus merely end up serving as an introduction for greater things to come. After about two minutes though, we find the group resorting to electronic pop in a fashion that resembles a more wound-up Maroon 5. We find a bit of ‘70s pop present here, just like in the ending minutes of “Mama, Stop” where various vocal tracks collide to create something serene and expressive in accordance to the backing guitars. It seems that most tracks on Piggy and Cups open up with something accessible in order to prepare listeners for greater things to come, introducing anything from tinges of electro-soul to country-pop after that. After any given track on Piggy and Cups exceeds the two-minute mark, one can expect to hear a flurry of hooks and outstanding performances that provide Alligators with a lasting impression that seems more than suitable for a grand accomplishment in the vein of Piggy and Cups.

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Alligators – Original Fear

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Alligators – If You Want To

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Alligators – Where Does It Hide

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It is difficult to criticize naming a band after a fruit. The edible sensations encompass a distinctive color and familiar taste, all while serving as a delightfully refreshing treat that caters to a broad audience. Most people do not just tire of enjoying fruit one day; I have never found myself taking an extended break from apples or oranges, or refusing to eat fruit because of dietary or political concerns. Unlike meat, there are no vendettas against the harmless nature of fruits. I personally enjoy both herbivorous and carnivorous food selections, but the universal amiability of fruits is something that is hard to deny. When brainstorming band names, I am sure the four guys from Pomegranates had something similar in mind. The name already allowed for a specific color to represent any band logo, t-shirt, or memorabilia, but even more importantly it proved indicative of a style that coincides with the familiarity of contemporary indie-pop but exposes it in a way that is refreshing and memorable. Like the fruit they so effortlessly elude to in their namesake, Pomegrantes’ music is a delightful entity that retains both its familiar and refreshingly new qualities to result in something irresistible and wholesomely accessible. It also helps that their CD case seems to smell vaguely of pomegranates, even if my mind is just playing tricks on me at this point.

In addition to their tastefully modernistic sound, Pomegranates run among a crowd of current bands that appeal to the music blogosphere in a big way. They are just as receptive toward the power of music blogs as the bloggers themselves; they note on their MySpace that reaching #11 on Elbo.ws’ blog aggregate is one of their proudest accomplishments. Listening to Pomegranates, it is hard to blame them for valuing this demographic so importantly. Groups like Islands, Wavves, French Kicks, and a countless number of others appear indebted to blogs for their well-deserved but arguably overblown status of success, primarily because they all tread in stylistic waters that are ambitious enough to be classified as avant-garde but also accessible enough to appear on most radio stations without a hitch. The specifics vary from artist to artist, but Pomegranates certainly appear to be on the verge of a breakthrough with the flexible indie-pop presented on their second album, Everybody, Come Outside!. The instrumentation rarely alternates between songs, with an assortment of guitars and keys often leading the way, but it only goes to show Pomegranates’ songwriting strengths even more prominently. Their style of indie-rock is by no means eclectically impressive or groundbreaking, but the things that they do with such familiar components are what separates Pomegranates from most of their contemporaries.

Like most groups of a blog-friendly indie-rock vein, the vocals in Pomegranates are vital to the success of their songs. Since influences seem to play a larger role than innovation in their style, it seems mandatory in these types of groups for the vocals to encompass proper ardency and harmonic flexibility without resorting to the clichéd components of drenched reverb or pitch modification. In Pomegranates, Joey Cook’s lead vocals are comparable to Phoenix’s Thomas Mars, although Cook retains a warmer and more sincere presence that appears to owe more to ’60s British pop in the vein of Ray Davies than modern-day indie-rock. There is plenty of angst in “Jerusalem Had a Bad Day” that is eerily reminiscent of Modest Mouse’s Isaac Brock and “384 BC” delivers some Conor Oberst-like drama-folk, but the bulk of Everybody, Come Outside! finds Pomegranates sitting in territory that benefits more from chirping guitars, twinkling keyboard melodies, and frantic percussion. Some eclectic qualities are certainly displayed on the album, but the direction of lead single “Corriander” coincides more with the brisk interpretation of summery indie-rock that proves more synonymous with Pomegranates’ radio-friendly contemporaries. This does not mean it is by any means generic though, as the song benefits from some fluttering guitar work and serene atmospherics that are contrary to the simplistic expectations surrounding most of today’s indie-pop.

With a bubbly bass line, hushed vocals, and a plethora of slick guitar progressions, “Corriander” accessibly establishes Pomegranates’ glistening style. The style itself traces back to early ‘90s alt-rock in the retrospective vein of Yo La Tengo and even Sonic Youth, with the larger emphasis on pop being indicative of current trends in music. Pomegranates keep these influences in mind with all the French Kicks’, Strokes’, and Phoenix’s in the world, allowing for a very enjoyable fusion of early ‘90s alternative with modernistic indie-pop often controlling the concise song structures and instantaneously enjoyable harmonies. “This Land Used to Be My Land” shows off some ambitious guitar work and recalls the days of British ‘60s pop music, despite for a chorus that allows Cook to heighten his pitch and resort to the twinkling of keys and lucid guitar work. “Svaatzi Uutsi” is also worth noting, serving as a tidy and stylistically fulfilling instrumental that plays like an enjoyable intermisson on the album. Varying influences interweave themselves subtly into the song structures, whether it is the prominently explosive power-pop and subtly rhythmic post-punk on “Southern Ocean” or the traditional acoustical folk interlaced with an exotic far-eastern melody on “Sail (Away with Me)”. With summer about to arrive, Pomegranates’ Everybody, Come Outside! is an excellent album for the season, bustling with illuminating melodies and excellent songwriting that allows Pomegranates’ style of indie-pop to flourish with each passing song. There are no particular songs on the album that will make Pomegranates the next Strokes, but Everybody, Come Outside! contains utmost consistency throughout that will likely place them among the same tier as groups like French Kicks and Phoenix. Great pop music with slight stylistic variations is what these groups do best, and Pomegranates is no different.

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Pomegranates – Corriander

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Pomegranates – Southern Ocean

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Pomegranates – Svaatzi Uutsi

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Seeing a rock band take the stage without a drummer can be like watching an artist try to paint without a canvas. The ideas and talent can be there, but the necessary materials may not be. Many groups have accomplished enough without the use of a bass, guitar, or vocals, but percussion is an element that is too unique to be mimicked or replicated without the use of technology. I was just reminded of the complications involved in missing an instrumental component last week when I featured The Mint Chicks, a New Zealand-based act that had to cope with the absence of their bassist after moving overseas to Portland. They conquered this obstacle by having guitars incorporate low-pitched, bass-like notes on their tracks, and they did so in such a meticulous manner that most listeners would be unaware of the absence. The case is less common for the absence of a guitar, but there are several artists like Ben Folds, Death From Above 1979, and The Dresden Dolls that have done just fine by using a mixture of keys, bass, and percussion to create a signature sound. Percussion is where it gets tricky though, as practically everything apart from classical pieces, ambient music, and a jazz solo here and there seems to utilize percussion prominently, regardless of how complex or simplistic the accompaniment is.

It has become somewhat customary for electronic artists to hone their percussive skills through technological means, even if their ability to play a real-life drum kit is limited at best. Some look upon this as a shameful practice, but I see little difference between that and hiring a drummer to put one’s songwriting into audible form. In fact, if one is able to construct unconventionally appropriate percussive beats in the realm of electronica like Junior Boys or Kelley Polar, it often sounds better than using a typical drum set. The allure of live percussion may be taken away, but some styles and songs within them utilize technological progression better than others. If rock bands were to utilize this technological approach though, the results would likely be catastrophic due to the flexibility that the genre demands on all instrumental fronts. Apart from their sheer melodic ability, one of the most impressive things about Two Door Cinema Club is how they appear to be defying such stereotypes with their crisp interpretation of indie-rock. The Northern Irish trio have enough slick guitar progressions, subtly infectious bass lines, and amiable vocal harmonies to come across as any first-tier indie-rock group, which should make their percussive absence surprising to any listener that is treated to their flavorful sound.

That three individuals craft such a memorable style with the aid of laptop-based percussion is impressive in itself, but the fact that their impressive songwriting and emphasis on production capitalizes on the percussive absence is what separates Two Door Cinema Club from many of their indie-rock contemporaries. In addition to being the lead vocalist, Alex Trimble is classified as the beat-maker with his percussive chops, even if his experience with drum kits is limited. Thanks to his astute ability – in addition to bassist Kevin Baird and guitarist Sam Halliday – Two Door Cinema Club end up sounding just as refreshingly infectious as groups like Phoenix, French Kicks, and The Whitest Boy Alive. Such acts exemplify a recent trend in indie-rock, which incorporates a wider embracement of electronica and dance. To be specific, Two Door Cinema Club’s incorporation of electronic music echoes the sentiments of Phoenix’s recent material, especially with the fast-paced and ambidextrous vocals of Trimble. Although the hazy synth washings of “Do You Want It All?” suggest a capacity for balladry, Two Door Cinema Club’s half-a-dozen or so released songs are often excitable with quick tempos and swift vocal accompaniments. This remains consistent throughout all of their songs, a steady indication that their eventual full-length debut will be something that attracts a significant amount of attention.

Two Door Cinema Club’s new single, “Something Good Can Work”, is also indicative of their probable success As their most polished effort yet, “Something Good Can Work” was the first track I heard from Two Door Cinema Club and I was hooked after the initial listen. What may initially appear to be a fusion of Modest Mouse’s swift angst-rock sensibility and Phoenix’s undeniable ability to craft a devastating indie-rock hook takes on its own original form upon repeated listens, as the trio’s talents evolve with each brilliant chorus. Although the guitar progressions and drum loops barely stray from their initial roots, the subtle melodic additives in the chorus alongside Trimble’s heightened pitch makes the single both danceable and incredibly radio-friendly. Knowing that their percussive capabilities are limited, the emphasis on guitars and bass are highlighted enjoyably, resulting in multiple layers of melodically invigorating progressions that supplement one another in natural and inventive form. For “Do You Want It All?”, Death Cab For Cutie’s tendency to originally incorporate indie-rock and electro-pop come to mind, but the lighthearted demeanor of the track once again places it in the realm of instantaneous enjoyment that only comes so naturally for Two Door Cinema Club.

“Hands Off My Cash, Monty”, while less impressive than the two preceding efforts, is worthy enough for the trio’s ability to simultaneous incorporate a vast array of guitar progressions. The approach is similar to late ‘90s indie-rock, particularly in relation to The Wrens and Broken Social Scene, but suffers from repetition despite a handful of satisfying ideas throughout. Considering that it is offered as a free b-side though, it is not surprising that it cannot stand up to “Something Good Can Work.” For further indication of quality Two Door Cinema Club, check out the two songs on their MySpace, “Cigarettes in the Theatre” and “Undercover Martyn.” They both benefit from the excellent approach exhibited on “Something Good Can Work”, which was a devilishly good incorporation of electro-pop and indie-rock. Since Phoenix and the like are finding such success with similar styles, one can expect the fantastic songwriting of Two Door Cinema Club to carry them to great heights. Now all we have to wait on is the full-length debut, which the trio promises is in the making. At the moment, they are shooting for a release date of late 2009 or early 2010.

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Two Door Cinema Club – Something Good Can Work

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Two Door Cinema Club – Do You Want It All?

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Two Door Cinema Club – Hands Off My Cash, Monty

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