January rain is unbearable. Precipitation this month should involve snow… not freezing rain. This is the time of year where vacation days are farthest away, so having cold buckets of water dumped over your head with the looming prospect of once again repeating the same dull instances day after day is demoralizing. Returning from the solace of winter break emphasizes the somberness of this procession to work/school even more. As a result, it almost seems ironic that January is an appropriate time for a band that produces shimmering surf-pop. Instead of coming across like decorating a Christmas tree in July, the music of Tennis is a refreshing and apt reminder of anticipatory feelings that would usually take months to arrive from January. Thanks to the emotionally eclectic qualities of the husband-wife duo, Tennis are one of 2011’s most buzzed-about bands thus far and their debut, Cape Dory, lives up to expectations.

Patrick Riley and Alaina Moore comprise the duo, and like many healthy musical couples the origin of their band’s name stems from an inside joke: Alaina used to make fun of Patrick playing tennis in college because she considered an elitist sport for affluent men (though I would disagree with that; golf fits the stereotype more, but Golf would be a pretty bland-sounding band name). Marriage followed shortly after the two philosophy majors met at the University of Colorado Denver, but the couple soon found life in Denver to lack the adventure they were seeking. So naturally, they embarked on an eight-month sailing trip along the North Atlantic coast. The funniest part is that neither one knew the other had musical talent; Alaina had no clue Patrick could play the guitar, and Patrick never knew Alaina could sing so well. It almost sounds like the beginning of a quirky rom-com, except for a great soundtrack in lieu of a pathetic one.

After deliberating what their prospective band should sound like, one thing was certain: nostalgia would be at the forefront. They wanted a ’50s telecaster, ’60s Fender Bassman, old organs, and low-grade tape — familiar equipment to any fan of vintage girl-pop and surf-rock attempting to replicate the sound today. Chemistry was certainly no issue, and once the songwriting began with the creativity and spontaneity present Tennis’ work now it became evident that something real was taking shape. What began as music playtime on a boat rapidly progressed into a legitimate project, one that recruited drummer James Barone and signed to the same label as The Walkmen, The Black Keys, Andrew Bird, etc (Fat Possum).

While ‘60s girl-pop and surf-rock stand out as influences, Tennis are not a one-trick pony. Moore’s vocal talents make Tennis’ stylistic definition quite varied, ranging from the touch of ‘60s girl-pop in “Marathon” to the twangy indie-rock of “Cape Dory”, where she sounds more Neko Case than Mary Weiss. Cape Dory is an album that excels at sugary pop, highlighting the swooning backing harmonies, bouncy bass lines, and scratchy electric guitars that help define the style. An immediate comparison to Cape Dory would be Little Joy’s self-titled debut, which showcased similar influences and first-time effectiveness. The relation is particularly relevant on Binki Shapiro-voiced songs like “Unattainable”. Shapiro shows less enthusiasm and variation vocally than Moore, but the feel-good vibes contrasted with the occasional dose of melancholic sentiments are equally presented. Cape Dory with a fresh take on girl-pop and surf-rock that make Tennis an act to look out for in 2011.

RIYL: Little Joy, Gauntlet Hair, Games, The Shangri-Las, Neko Case, Kisses, Active Child, Women, Weed Diamond, Male Bonding, Ducktails, Vanguart, Wavves

Tennis – Pigeon

Tennis – Marathon

Tennis – Bimini Bay

Fat Possum / MySpace

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How to Dress Well? The name sounds like some early 19th century etiquette pamphlet. Things like that tend to lose relevance after a decade. But like all remnants, they maintain historical value. Music, like all forms of art, provides timeless durability in the sheer experience of it, even if historical relevance provides varying outlooks on the theme or style. At heart though, the timeless characteristics of art resound consistently; the point in time of one’s experience inspires variables of reception and accessibility, dependent on social and technological standards of the time. But when it comes down to it, the witnessing of art presents feelings conceived no differently than they were hundreds of years ago.

The brains behind How to Dress Well, Tom Krell, provides a twist on the whole experience. His music is instantly familiar, injected with doses of R&B, soul, and pop that actually reach radio-friendly points of accessibility. Of course, when soaked in reverb, adorned with an echoed falsetto, and featuring a modernistic synth-laden sound, the clashing of both varying degrees of accessibility and time periods leaves room for plenty of great ideas. For Krell, comparisons to chillwave trademarks like Washed Out and Neon Indian are imminent based on his production alone. But How to Dress Well fall more in the vein of Ariel Pink, who uses his adoration for ’60s/’70s frontman art-rock to create a sound that is both hauntingly sad and infectiously vibrant. Of course, Neon Indian’s “Deadbeat Summer” just barely shows the extent of frontman Alan Palomo’s undying love for Todd Rundgren. But even the “Izzat Love” sample aside, the song sounded distinctively modern.

Unlike past motivators of the “chillwave” movement, Krell creates a sort of timeless whimsy within his beautifully fragile sound. Their music resounds with no particular decade, instead offering a meshing of both nostalgic and futuristic styles that bring out a variety of guesses from “some ’80s post-punk variant” to “Michael Jackson if he just chilled on blunts instead of pills”. The latter shows some indication of Krell’s obvious rhythmic ability, but more so in his vibrating falsetto that brings comparisons to MJ, Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon, and even at times Antony Hegarty. Krell’s approach is, for the most part, what brings him such individual success though. His high pitch is not supposed to sound this great under a caressing assortment of synth pads and distorted bass. It does though. You really need to have your vocal rhythm down for that. And in that sense, Krell shows some outstanding talent in both his songwriting and vocal work, showcasing an ambiguous enigma that – for once – does not reek of pretension or greed. Just a genuine love for music of the past, present, and future. That is one aspect of this “chillwave” thing anyone could get behind.

Krell’s innovation is evident throughout the bulk of Love Remains, his debut full-length. His song are all treated with such delicate care, but the differences in ferocity are certainly evident. A track like “My Body” is solemn from the get-go, incorporating a series of layered falsetto that sound like a haunted choir. This in particular is reminiscent of Sigur Rós’ Jónsi. “We were known for the choice that we do, I was hoping for the rain, I was hoping for you,” Krell sings after percussion – which is used sparingly throughout Love Remains – enters the fold. The rhythm here is particularly important because the song’s R&B influence is extremely pronounced, with Krell even incorporating the post-verse falsetto yelps that artists like The-Dream show mastery of.

“Suicide Dream 2” is one of the more unclassifiable songs on the album, meaning that comparisons to R&B and pop take a backseat to serene electronica that sits somewhere between ambiance and soundtrack. If anything, the vein of dubstep that Burial specializes in is the focus here. The twinkling synths emit a melancholy feel that steadily repeats, its tempo and volume never shifting. Instead, Krell’s voice is what exhibits the emotional transitions; he is able to craft stellar hooks on his own with rare preciseness. His unconventional pitch is often the culprit of emotionally-charged mastery. Songs like “Escape Before the Rain” rely on little more than a simplistic piano progression, as echoey click-clacking and whirs of synth in the background provide a deeper audible experience. But Krell’s voice is almost always the emphasis, even around the 01:45 mark when he gives way to the piano loop. His return is imminent of course, and as soulful as ever. I can nearly guarantee that he is going to give chills to any attentive listener (and by attentive, I mean this is the type of artist that you must use good headphones or a stereo to listen to).

A flurry of funk is present in the vibrant rhythm section of “Endless Rain”, which incorporates a DJ Shadow-like loop clip for gradual accentuation. It would be really great to hear a studio version of “Walking This Dumb”, but the live version presented on Love Remains is more than adequate quality. The little crackle in the live bass just adds to the allure. This is certainly one of Krell’s more dance-heavy songs, riding on a distorted chorus that sounds more Girls Aloud than Burial. The intensity of the following song, “Date of Birth”, brings us back to an intenser Krell though. His panting during the progression of string-like synths flows into a distant echoed croon, the song fading out as it progresses. Like most of Krell’s songs, it would fit perfectly as a soundtrack to a dream. Whether the dream is a haunting nightmare, sex-charged romp, or adventure on a night bus is up to you.

RIYL: Burial, Washed Out, Neon Indian, Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti, Gauntlet Hair, Memoryhouse, Toro y Moi, Wild Nothing, Active Child, Best Coast, Beach Fossils, Pure Ecstasy, Big Spider’s Back, Cults, Tanlines, DOM, Memory Cassette, Kisses, Eternal Summers, Golden Ages, Nite Jewel

Official Site

MySpace

BUY

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Whether referring to fusions or collaborations, co-creations are often best digested with familiarity of the two or more components at hand. For instance, the food grapple looks like an apple, but its skin tastes like a grape and the insides taste like an apple. Perfectly enjoyable, but those attempting to eat it without prior familiarity of either fruit will be restrained by first-time observation as opposed to objectively finding the mixture’s success and multiple likenesses with contextually supported formulations. Similarly, if I had not had a taste of Laura Burhenn’s work as a solo artist and with Georgie James, I feel my perception of her new project would be different. Her songwriting takes a giant leap forward on The Mynabirds‘ debut, aided by another familiar face in Richard Swift. His most recent album, The Atlantic Ocean, was #16 on Obscure Sound’s ‘Best Albums of 2009‘ feature, so Swift’s collaboration is nothing to disregard. Familiarity with the work of Burhenn and Swift prior to listening to The Mynabirds is not essential for its enjoyment, but it certainly contributes to a spontaneous feel that appears reminiscent of old friends getting together and having a grand old time. With the way The Mynabirds’ debut was recorded, this reaction is not surprising.

Burhenn and Swift spent this previous summer in the hills of Oregon, recording what would be The Mynabirds’ debut, What We Lose in the Fire We Gain in the Flood. Their chemistry was fairly evident from the get-go, and their nightly ritual of whiskey and dancing didn’t hurt. As the polished production and melodic sounds show though, the whiskey was often saved for the post-recording party. Their nighttime listening playlist included the likes of James Brown, Dandy Livingstone, and other staples of ’60s and ’70s in areas of R&B and folk. Coincidentally, the origins of The Mynabirds’ name relates to such a playlist, as they are actually named after the ambiguous ’60s R&B group with the same name. The first incarnation, named ‘The Mynah Birds’ instead, was based out of Ontario and even included Neil Young, Rick James, and Bruce Palmer (Buffalo Springfield) at various points in time. Their work is hard to find, but is certainly recommended. The Mynabirds of today would agree.

Likely single “Numbers Don’t Lie” initially treads in the warmth of an echoey organ, the mood resembling Beach House before Burhenn’s emotive voice enters alongside a series of folky acoustic guitars and accompanying keys. The instrumental style on this track and many others are in this vein, often led by an acoustic strum or slick keyboard melody that finds clever accentuation through orchestral flourishes or in Burhenn’s exceptional range. In the background of “Numbers Don’t Lie”, you can hear Burhenn’s laughter as the instrumentation escalates; it is a reminder of how unforced and charismatic these recordings are, making the context of Burhenn and Swift writing songs and then sharing a bottle of whiskey quite relevant. These two clearly were not sitting in a room and biting their fingernails because of deadlines or lack of chemistry. They were writing music together selflessly, having fun with it, and continuing the fun once recording was over. They combined on instrumental portions gradually, sometimes separately and sometimes together. However they did it, Burhenn and Swift have certainly produced something they should be proud of.

Along with members of Bright Eyes and These United States, Richard Swift’s essential contributions to this album primarily involved instrumentation. There is a resemblance to his material as a result, particularly how the broodingly softened piano of “Give It Time” bears likeness to an anticipatory gem like “Already Gone” (one of the best efforts on Swift’s The Atlantic Ocean). There is also an old-fashioned feel, particularly that of someone playing piano with a top-hat in a lounge circa 1950. The reason for this is the lack of superfluous additives on the recordings, which rely on guitars, keys, and Burhenn’s alternation between caressing whispers and electrifying howls. Like she did with Georgie James, I cannot stress how skilled Burhenn is at complementing melodic instrumentation. You could probably give her a continuous loop of a five-second sample and she could turn it into something structurally interesting. This is shown on a track like “Ways of Looking”, where she turns a simple guitar riff and percussive click once every measure into a with her suave and smoky delivery. Her complete awareness of impending hooks makes moments like these abundant throughout What We Lose in the Fire We Gain in the Flood, which is one of the best things both Burhenn and Swift have released.

Stream the entire album for free here.

You can also download the March 2010 Saddle Creek Sampler, including “Numbers Don’t Lie”, for free here.

RIYL: Richard Swift, Georgie James, Miss Li, Sarah Jaffe, Kisses, White Hinterland, Marit Bergman, Amanda Jenssen, Säkert!, Timo Räisänen, Lou Barlow, Pajo, Damien Jurado, David Bazan, Benjy Ferree, Little Wings, The Love Language

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The Mynabirds – Numbers Don’t Lie

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The Mynabirds – Let the Record Go

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The Mynabirds – Give It Time

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Official Web Site

MySpace

BUY

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