by Josh Taylor

Julian Shah-Tayler was born to make music. Putting out an EP every few months and pumping out 50-70 songs a year is no easy feat, unless you show prevalently the aspects of a well-rounded musician. His robust musicianship is responsible for his versatility as an artist. What I noticed after listening to his latest EP, Un Ange Passe, is that Julian is a songwriter who creates for his heart’s content. He strays from songwriting conventions and isn’t afraid to experiment if it amuses his untypical sensibilities.

Julian’s songs distinctly belong to their maker. Un Ange Passe is very personal and all the songs on the EP (with the exception of “Wetter”) were written for a dearly departed friend of Julian’s who tragically passed away. The literal translation of the title “Un Ange Passe” is “an angel is passing”, but is usually used when an awkward silence falls over the room. The EP tells a brief and interesting story about what happened to Christine. Julian tells it well, as the story is endearing and stripped down to the most honest details.

Instead of diving into the story headfirst, the EP begins with “Wetter.”  The songs on the EP are sandwiched by “Wetter” and the remix of “Wetter” by Karl Leiker. This song is definitely the black sheep… uptempo, naughty lyrics and electro influence. The feel of the song is great and could be a radio hit. The second song on Un Ange Passe is “Everything Is You”, serving as a good transition into the rest of the EP, which is more relaxed musically. The song begins with finger-snapping, chimes and some elusive and wandering exotic-sounding instruments. Then iit develops a direction and chooses to take on a New Order/Depeche Mode feel. The nameless exotics remain, lending a curious tone to the song. It’s almost as if they don’t belong, but are still welcomed.

“Communication” resembles the sparse feel of a desert. It’s expansive (at 5 and a half minutes) and filled with many instrumental breaks. The track lulls and winds but I don’t know that it goes anywhere. All I know is that when I listen to it, I start to space out.  If Julian wanted “Communication” to have a daydream-inducing effect, then bravo — well done, because that is exactly what happens.

“Christine” is where the EP starts to come together and the song clearly lays out what exactly happened to his late friend of the same name. Make what you want of the other songs and interpret them as you wish, but here is what happened, Julian seems to say. Musically, “Christine” brings to mind The Smiths “How Soon Is Now?” and has the same pensive inquiry.  One of the most striking and revealing lyrics is “as the kiss of the needle delivers you to the real world” followed by this lyric in the bridge “even if this life could give you all the love you need, I guess you had enough.” The verdict: overdose.

Un Ange Passe occupies a certain estranged darkness, but it is only when the listener gets to “Christine” that I feel they can go back and find its lingering presence in the background of the entire EP. Perhaps that misplaced discomfort is the awkwardness that the album title also refers to. Still, the way the song is handled is half ode, half something else that I can’t quite pin down. For a song written for a close friend the song isn’t particularly sentimental, which is odd to me. However,  I think those feelings find their way into the next song “Lullabies.”

From what I heard, “Lullabies” was written for Julian’s future daughter. But the listener is also led to believe that perhaps the song’s tender message is intended for Christine as well. The lullaby soothes the listener as well as the singer, perhaps reminding him that everything will be fine and there really is nothing to be afraid of during the night, and maybe in death…

Whatever the ultimate purpose of Un Ange Passe is, it can be listened to in many different ways. Julian is adventurous with his artistic choices and presents his subject matter though a twisted lens. This is not to say that his method is perverse, but rather aiming for artistic perfection on his own terms. Some say that’s a nifty idea. I would say it’s better than nifty, or original, or clever. I would say the whole EP is a noble effort. Too many musicians make music to turn a quick buck but lack the vision to make something worthwhile. Others write for their heart’s content, yet lack the talent to make sophisticated music. Julian, however, is the best of both. He is talented and passionate, which shows remarkably.

One last thing I noticed: None of these songs showcase Julian’s piano talents, but word on the street is that his full-length debut does. Entitled Coito Ergo Sum, it is due in the fall. So keep an eye out, or an ear rather.

RIYL: Depeche Mode, Dave Gahan, New Order, Erasure, Pet Shop Boys, Duran Duran, The Cure, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Alphaville, David Wrench, The Human League, Gary Numan, Tears for Fears, Soft Cell, INXS, Talk Talk, A Flock of Seagulls, Naked Eyes, Blancmange

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Julian Shah-Tayler – Everything Is You

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Julian Shah-Tayler – Wetter

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Julian Shah-Tayler – In Your Room (Depeche Mode cover)

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Impossible Things Records

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The post Julian Shah-Tayler appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

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

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

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

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

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

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A Brief Smile – Bigger Lies

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A Brief Smile – Animal Magnetism

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A Brief Smile – Honeycomb Shrinking

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

Calling a song “I Wish I Was in Hüsker Dü” seems pretty customary for a high school band. Maybe not today, but we can be sure that high school in the mid-‘80s consisted of many kids that would give up their newest cassette player to be in Hüsker Dü, R.E.M., or any other successful alternative-rock group of the era. Music-related dreams like these inhabit the minds of many artistically inclined high school students, as the end of high school generally marks a point where they must decide whether pursuing music full-time is realistic or not. I do not refer to respectable but somewhat conventional tasks like working as a session musician, music teacher, or music journalist, but instead that dream of rock ‘n’ roll stardom that has predominantly existed since the ‘60s among youths exposed to media. Nowadays, this sentiment seems to be replaced by a desire to scream voraciously and wear tight jeans, but that is a whole different story in itself. That Let’s Wrestle would name one of their early songs “I Wish I Was in Hüsker Dü” suggests an immediate influence, not so much directly in regard to Hüsker Dü but rather the era they resided in. Picture a surprisingly effective high school band in the 1980s and you will likely have something that sounds like Let’s Wrestle, a London-based trio that invokes nostalgia and a DIY ideology without lacking in stylistic originality or captivating songwriting.

Listen to Let’s Wrestle for about one minute. Which adjectives would you use to describe it? I imagine that a handful of critics with a nearing deadline would use words like “sloppy” or “awkward”, which is perfectly acceptable if you are a listener that judges a song by its first minute or so. Those with patience, though, will be rewarded unexpectedly and quite memorably. What is so enjoyably unique about Let’s Wrestle is how they exploit this sound of throwback ‘80s garage-rock, surprising listeners with an outstanding flurry of hooks after either opening up clumsily or showing little attempt at innovation. This always turns out to be highly intentional though, as the intricate components of the tracks are exposed after several studious listens. Much like their ‘80s alt-rock influences, Let’s Wrestle deliver a very raw sound that triumphs over its non-polish with solid songwriting, passionate performances, and clever hooks. Being in a high school garage band in the ‘80s was hardly a unique or innovative thing to do, but Let’s Wrestle’s implementation of alt-rock, post-punk, and psychedelia make such a scenario appear desirable because it reminds us of the days when a song did not need over-production and star power to get airtime on a prominent radio station.

Like any band indebted to the engaging force of ‘80s alternative-rock, Let’s Wrestle do have lyrical substance under their addictively concise melodies and the deep, nearly slurring vocals of Wesley Patrick Gonzalez. His vocals usually sound as if he is recovering from a very severe hangover, a very personable delivery that associates well with Let’s Wrestle’s grainy mixture of guitars, keys, and rhythm. Their music formula, Gonzalez’s vocals, and their lyrical content all result in something extremely relatable. In other words, they are the best modern group I have heard that can pass off sounding like a ‘80s garage-rock band. The relation to high school is distinctively reminiscent in their ardent depiction of a popular genre and the adolescent compatibility of their music For their youthful audience, it only makes sense that most of the lyrics on Let’s Wrestle’s full-length debut, In the Court of the Wrestling Let’s, involves everything from coping with lost loves to putting on the tea kettle. The latter is covered in “My Schedule”, a steadily trippy journey into a droll life inhabited by routine bouts with errands, forgetting to put the tea kettle on, and coping with lost love. “I wish that you’d call me but you don’t call at all,” Gonzalez says plainly, only to prepare the listener for the prevalent emotions that follow. When he beckons for the object of his affection to call him, Gonzalez’s voice strains and he begins to choke up. The emotion presented here seems genuine, and under the hazy reverberations of organs and whirring guitars it is an extraordinary moment that summarizes Let’s Wrestle’s explosive potential.

The serene woo-ing of the backing vocals in “My Schedule” are sure to send chills up most spines, displaying a side of Let’s Wrestle that is slower in tempo and more gradual in approach than most of the material presented on their 2008 EP, In Loving Memory Of. “My Arms Don’t Bend That Way, Damn It!” and “Tanks” show their post-punk leanings more, resulting in bustling rhythm sections and hooks . Check out the excellent bass line in the excellently paced “Tanks”, an excellent track that blends late ‘70s post-punk with modern art-rock. It sounds as if The Jam and Arctic Monkeys were somehow fused together, complete with Bruce Foxton’s irresistible bass lines and Alex Turner’s straining vocals. Gonzalez’s tone is deeper than Turner’s and most other artists in the genre, so it creates some pretty spectacularly unique moments like on the minimalistic “Diana’s Hair”, where Gonzalez seems to recall vintage Brit-pop with marching band percussion, a patriotically anthemic chorus, and an effective vocal delivery that uses his British accent to its full capacity. The melody here is delightfully bouncy, appearing as something Jarvis Cocker or Damon Albarn might have done during the late ’90s. And although shades of Brit-pop, post-punk, and art-rock appear throughout the album in sporadic doses, In the Court of the Wrestling Let’s is predominantly an ode to the diversity that quality ‘80s alternative-rock exhibited. And because of that, with their original hooks and stylistic variations, Let’s Wrestle’s full-length debut proves to be an eclectic release that finds a rookie band in the rare position of being fully confident and prepared for their stylistic direction, whichever way that might be.

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Let’s Wrestle – My Schedule

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Let’s Wrestle – Tanks

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Let’s Wrestle – Diana’s Hair

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Stolen Recordings

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The post Let’s Wrestle the Past appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

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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The post Joining the Two Door Cinema Club appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Stereotypes are difficult to shake off some genres, as the primary innovators of them are usually considered to be the archetypical reference point for those aspiring to pursue the style. Structural tendencies are rarely what define a genre since experimentation can be prevalent in all styles of music without it being a hindrance to classification. As a result, listeners often resort to classification through means of instrumentation, historical relevance, and even methods of production. The latter proves to be a rather outdated method since the definition of “quality production” seems to fluctuate with each passing year, but the other two still apply. Upon examining a piece of music, we unknowingly become influenced by the media in determining a song’s genre. There exists some one-hundred or so proposed genres, most of them resulting in an overly intricate attempt from journalists and musicians to concisely classify a song or release. It would be interesting to see what the members of Bruce Peninsula think about such an occurrence, as they are one of the few groups whose sound can truly not be grouped into one category. Their main focal points include folk, soul, rock, and an eerily brilliant infusion of gospel music, though one is not even slightly predominant over the others. This creates for an interesting experience, something that serves as one of the few legitimate excuses for a fancily concocted genre.

If forced to choose, folk would personally be my classification for Bruce Peninsula. The genre has demonstrated such flexibility this past decade, with artists finding success in both traditional and modernized approaches. Bruce Peninsula find themselves somewhere in between the two; they express a veneration for the past with scenic lyrical content and a call-and-response vocal approach, but their infusion of other elements within the worlds of gospel and soul place them in a category where few others exist. It would have been rare to see a folk artist in a decade other than this one attempt such a stylistically multifarious approach while still remaining in the realm of their respective genre, but Bruce Peninsula prove to be a new breed that dares to defy any and all stereotypes that apply to folk music. They exist partly as a possessed choir and partly as leaders of some tribal procession, leading way for an exhilarating presentation that blends conventionalism with culturally atypical methods. Some may say that folk music must have some incorporation of a non-electric guitar with little backing instrumentation, but listeners of Bruce Peninsula have or will learn otherwise. With their newest album, they strive to defy the predictable elements that make some music derivative, regardless of their genre.

The origins of Bruce Peninsula trace back to 2006. Naming their project after a scenic peninsula in their native province of Ontario, Misha Bower and Matt Cully enlisted a wide variety of musicians to fulfill a stylistic vision that could only be accomplished through a precise selection process. The dozen or so members that accompany Bruce Peninsula when at its fullest are all fine surveyors of the band’s target genres: folk, soul, and gospel. The female members often make up a haunting choir of sorts, backing the coarsely invigorating vocals of Neil Haverty. Bower also occasionally serves as the female lead, making her mark with quick but extremely effective moments in tracks like “2nd 4th World War” and “Weave Myself a Dress”, the latter in which she stars as a sympathetic protagonist stricken by loneliness and grief. Considering her powerful, trembling vocals on tracks like this, I feel that the Bruce Peninsula’s full-length debut, A Mountain Is a Mouth, may have benefitted from seeing more of her voice. Still, with a uniquely captivating voice like Haverty’s taking the lead, it is a tough decision to make. Regardless though, the album hits all the right marks with its wide range of emotions. Whether it is Haverty’s bluesy howl toward the end of the breathtaking opener “Inside/Outside” or the ceaseless action of percussion on the energetic “Crabapples”, A Mountain Is a Mouth is full of ardent moments diverse enough to captivate a listener for months on end.

The aforementioned “Weave Myself a Dress” also tends to serve as a consummate example of Bruce Peninsula’s tonal and emotional diversity. Bower initially guides her crackling voice over a pair of acoustic guitars and a twinkling keyboard, with an eerie string-like effect in the distance providing a striking backdrop over her longing lyrics. The track continues like this for several minutes before near-ambience takes over. Bower then lets out a howl over this phased ambiance, allowing the soft strumming of an acoustic guitar to answer in response. When she lets out another one, two guitars become involved. Eventually, the melody seamlessly shifts into a joyous choir of sorts as Bower’s voice remains distinct over a unisex chorus. To check out Haverty’s tremendous vocal power, one should look no farther than “Shutters”. This powerful effort begins with a similarly accompanying choir as Haverty trembles, “Like water from a whale spout, the spray unveils its crown.” As strings can be heard building up in the background, the listener can sense impending turbulence. When the volatile rhythm section collides abruptly with a series of guitars, the track intensifies to a level of irresistibility. Haverty either sounds like a deranged madman or a brilliant preacher, with his accomplice of choirs hitting the notes that his musky voice cannot. The track becomes somewhat serene during the middle, but then follows it up with an even more grandiose setting than the introduction. Such tactful precision is what makes Bruce Peninsula so special, and it is a sentiment expressed brilliantly on A Mountain Is a Mouth.

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Bruce Peninsula – Shutters

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Bruce Peninsula – Inside/Outside

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Bruce Peninsula – Weave Myself a Dress

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The post Bruce Peninsula Enters the Mouth of a Mountain appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

In the life of Luke Temple, artistic transitioning nearly seems like a daily routine by now. In several career choices that are not particularly surprising from a multifarious talent, Temple has made a living out of being both a mural painter and a musician. Between painting murals in the grandiose houses of the New York City elite and singing his oddly infectious tunes in smoky barrooms, one could say that Temple likely has a good perception of what it means to struggle as someone who makes a living out of being an artist. Now, Temple appears to be doing just fine for himself, but his growing recognition did not come without any work at all. As he transitioned between considerably different jobs and states (from Boston to Seattle and California to New York), Temple gathered experience that proved beneficial to his talents as both a painter and musician. Perhaps most importantly of all, he learned what it took to alternate between various lifestyles and locales, all while maintaining a consistent focus on the reason why his renown is growing considerably: his art. While mural paintings supported him well enough, Temple’s true calling always seemed to be within the art of music. When he decided to prioritize his music-related pursuits above his respectable work as a mural painter, many wondered whether such a risky move would pay off in the end.

Considering that Temple pursued painting as a student at the School of Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts, it may strike many as surprising that he chose to pursue music over something that he was well-studied in. After all, why not just study music in school if it were your most ardent passion? The truth is that few people realize their true focused potential upon entering, and even exiting, college, leading onto lives of regret and contradiction. Well, it usually is not that bad, but Temple is a good example of how initial interests can stimulate a latent talent. There is no doubt that Temple is a talented painter, but it is also a skill that can be rendered unavoidably prevalent in childhood. After all, in grade school, a child drawing a picture is a more common and accessible occurrence than one who transcribes music or writes songs in crayon. This interest, along with an easily identifiable talent, likely led Temple to his choice of a career as a painter. This career choice, like many others though, led to something else that eventually resulted in more appropriate circumstances for a songwriter whose lyrical and melodic prowess transcends many of those who have been set on a musical career since their early childhood.

At this current decade’s beginning, as Temple was preparing to try out his hand at visual art, he began to develop an interest in music. He had enjoyed listening to music for the majority of his life, but it was not until then that he took a deep interest in songwriting, production, and the inner-workings of the art. An artist his entire life, the transitioning seemed nearly seamless as he released his debut, a four-track EP, in 2004. His full-length debut, Hold a Match for a Gasoline World, followed in 2005 and it was a fantastic display of the Massachusetts native’s songwriting ability. One thing that he kept the same was his commitment to striking visuals, an aspect that he accomplished through excellent lyrical imagery. For a former painter, I suppose it was not surprising. What was unexpected was Temple’s melodic virtuosity, a feat that was heavily accomplished despite the bare workings of finger-picked acoustics and folky ballads. The songs were not breathtakingly innovative or structurally unpredictable, but they were appealing and accessible enough for Temple’s words to flow with an emotional vigor that is essential in quality folk music. He found his first glimpse of mainstream success in 2006 after one of the album’s tracks, “Make Right with You”, appeared on Grey’s Anatomy, setting the stage for the release of his second album, Snowbeast, in 2007.

Snowbeast was a breakthrough for Temple on several levels. In addition to gathering the acclaim of both fans and musicians (Sufjan Stevens, Ben Gibbard) alike, it found Temple expanding upon his previous material without reverting to new styles of play or methods of production. Recorded in his Brooklyn apartment, the use of lo-fi folk was still prominent but the songs themselves benefitted from a more organized flow and a stylistic addition that saw some aspects of electronica being incorporated into Temple’s works. The structures were also noticeably more ambitious, with most of the tracks apart from the opening “Saturday People” taking unpredictable twists and turns that often resulted in an ingeniously engineered success. After the release of this, it was clear that Hold a Match for a Gasoline World was setting the stage for Snowbeast in showcasing Temple’s wildly impressive growth as a songwriter within only two years. And just like that evolution, Snowbeast has accomplished in preparing listeners for Temple’s newest release, a new project altogether that he entitles Here We Go Magic.

What Here We Go Magic’s self-titled debut does so well is that it takes the ambitiousness and electro-folk tinges of Snowbeast and combines them with unchartered territory that is not like anything Temple has done before. Half psychedelic-pop and half electro-folk, Here We Go Magic is yet another redeeming example of Temple’s growth as a songwriter. While a wide assortment of synthesizers, guitars, bass, percussion, and samples push him out of the lo-fi category, the songs here are more depictive of minimalistic experimentation than the structural ambitiousness found on Snowbeast. In fact, many of the tracks on Here We Go Magic like “I Just Want to See You Underwater” and “Tunnelvision” benefit from a repetitive riff or sample that remains somewhat consistent throughout the song. “Tunnelvision” sports an acoustic progression and a basic 4/4 drum beat that is not altered even once; the beauty of the track instead comes in the effectiveness of the warbling production and Temple’s high-pitched voice. The tone is ethereal and calming, a stark contrast from the synthesized arpeggios of “I Just Want to See You Underwater”. But this contrast is what makes Here We Go Magic so extraordinary. From the accessibly tropical pop sensibilities of “Fangela” and the use of Afro-pop in “Only Pieces” to the droning ambience of “Ghost List” and “Nat’s Alien”, this album is full of wonderful surprises. This especially applies to the concluding “Everything’s Big”, a track unlike anything else on the album with its naturalistic lo-fi sentiments involving acoustic guitars, keys, and a slight touch of strings. When this ends the album with its genuine flair of romance, it is difficult to even envision Temple pursuing a different art form. This is clearly his true calling.

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Here We Go Magic – Fangela

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Here We Go Magic – Everything’s Big*

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Here We Go Magic – Tunnelvision

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*”Everything’s Big” removed at the request of Western Vinyl

The post Here We Go Magic appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

As evidenced on Monday with Andre Ethier’s excellent Born of Blue Fog, January is often a time for this site to explore releases that I may have overlooked in 2008. It is not by any means intentional, as no one could possibly listen to every single release in a year by the end of it. Instead, since I tend to avoid covering groups with a lot of buzz surrounding them since a simple Google search can usually provide all the commentary and information necessary, these releases are often indication of a group whose major spotlight is yet to arrive. When listening to the latest release from The High Dials, it is startling to me that I first discovered news of their new album a mere few days ago. I was a big fan of their second album, War of the Wakening Phantoms, and the stylistic boundaries that the Canadian group broke through. Like a large variety of new groups though, they were a victim of loose comparative ideals with their early material. They had yet to find a stylistic focus that was innovative and captivating enough to advance to the next level, one that brings forth both acclaim and recognition. An artist can quite possibly find success through a linear style if they choose to pursue glamorized mainstream pop music, but for a group whose influences include legendary groups like The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and other early British rockers that would shake their heads at the current state of pop music, that route will never be an option for The High Dials.

Despite the release providing little to flaunt in terms of stylistic innovation, The High Dials’ full-length debut in 2003, A New Devotion, was by no means a bad album. Tracks like the psychedelic “Can You Hear the Bells?” and the briskly infectious “Morning’s White Vibration” were pure successes, but listeners found too little to latch onto with a predictable flow that proved to be the consequential effect of a style that most contemporary music fans were already familiar with. It was also over an hour long, a flawed decision due to the group’s linear style at the time. Basically, differentiating between songs on A New Devotion almost seemed like a chore. Like any wise group though, they took the criticism openly and decided to tweak their sound for their follow-up. To test the waters, they released an EP in 2004 by the name of Fields in Glass. The self-titled track was initially featured on A New Devotion, but the EP introduced a remix that saw a more organized “Fields in Glass” after a decrease in atmospherics was substituted for a more audibly enhanced rhythm section. The remix of “Fields in Glass”, along with two new songs in “City Rivers” and “The House Where Trouble Sleeps” was the first example of The High Dials’ new stylistic intentions. And as their following album proved, it was one hell of a decision.

Though an unavoidable stylistic transition occurred between the releases of A New Devotion and War of the Wakening Phantoms, it was certainly not as if The High Dials sounded like a completely different band. After all, the contrast between psychedelic mod-rock and new-wave is not as stark as it seemed, at least for The High Dials. Trevor Anderson’s vocals still evoke nostalgic psychedelia with heavy doses of reverb, but the melodies are now more memorable and the instrumental accompaniments are more lively and focused. Most importantly, The High Dials’ most recent two albums have found a bulk of their success through a more eclectic track-by-track approach. War of the Wakening Phantoms was the first to introduce this, cohesively implementing aspects of shoegaze, hard-rock, acoustic pop, and synth-pop over a central focus of new-wave and power-pop. For someone who had only listened to A New Devotion, ambitious efforts like the epic “Your Eyes Are a Door” and the synthesized “A River Haunting” would be a welcomed surprise. Anderson’s vocals remain generally similar, but the group took great strides on their second album with sharper songwriting, crisp production, and a sound that was certainly eclectic enough for a group aiming for both accessibility and innovation.

Due to the success and rave reviews that stemmed from War of the Wakening Phantoms, it is not surprising to see The High Dials pursue a similar approach on their third album, Moon Country. It offers plenty of variety and infectiousness, two commendable aspects of War of the Wakening Phantoms that were the primary causes of its success. Just to name a few of the highlights at their disposal, listeners have irresistible power-pop gems like “My Heart Is Pinned to Your Sleeve”, the electro-acoustic workings of “Killer of Dragons”, the ardently acoustic finesse of “Angels and Devils”, and the psychedelically epic “Open the Gates” to satiate any hunger for stylistic diversity. “My Heart Is Pinned to Your Sleeve” sounds like a cheerier British Sea Power (the introduction of bursting guitars could not help but remind me of “Carrion”), with the undercurrent of twinkling keys over a heavy bass and Anderson’s effervescent vocals crafting a bright power-pop delicacy with plenty of structural diversity on a track where a high level of accessibility is heavily prominent. “Killer of Dragons”, while just as accessible, pursues a different route with a series of electronic percussive stomps and handclaps build up to a chorus that is slightly reminiscent of ‘90s Brit-pop with an electric guitar reflecting Anderson’s vocal melody. The opening “These Days Mean Nothing to Me” is also notable for its build-up, one that sees a series of twinkling atmospherics convert to a fierce guitar-led fury that proves to be an excellent microcosm of the group’s newly utilized stylistic ambitions. At over an hour, The High Dials’ Moon Country may be just as lengthy as their inconsistent debut, but this time the long length proves to be a good thing. After all, when something is so enjoyable, it is hard to set such a limit.

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The High Dials – My Heart Is Pinned to Your Heart

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The High Dials – Killer of Dragons

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The High Dials – These Days Mean Nothing to Me

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by Mike Mineo

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50. Hot Chip – Made in the Dark

Before they earned a Grammy nod or topped the UK singles charts, Hot Chip had a considerable amount of doubt surrounding them. Their 2005 full-length debut, Coming on Strong, showed signs of potential here and there with a few stellar hooks, but many found the London-based group to be lacking in three things that are often vital in electronic pop: energy, wit, and consistent infectiousness. They answered the criticism resoundingly with their second album, The Warning, a year later and have not looked back. It somehow found the perfect divide between creativity and accessibility, proving more accessible than Coming on Strong while also suggesting that the group was steadily evolving into something that could be easily separated from the hordes of generic synth-pop acts. The songs were bouncier, more energetic, and – most importantly – more fun. That being said, it was hardly a surprise when their follow-up, Made in the Dark, proved just as successful and arguably even more so when considering how remarkably consistent the album’s quality is. The budding catchiness of “Ready for the Floor” may very well be the best song of their short career so far, while even the more emotionally demanding pieces like the seductive “We’re Looking for a Lot of Love” and the swanky “Don’t Dance” prove wildly successful, providing a fair amount of diversity to an album whose genre usually does not demand it. It simply proves that Hot Chip are beginning to think outside of the box and, in doing so, are succeeding dramatically.

Hot Chip – Ready for the Floor

Hot Chip – We’re Looking for a Lot of Love

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49.Little Joy – Little Joy

When you are a member like an internationally renowned band like The Strokes, it can be difficult when attempting to separate yourself from your past projects in order to form a new one. These initial thoughts may have ran through Fabrizio Moretti’s head when he first formed Little Joy, but after the widespread acclaim of their self-titled debut album, the association appears nearly obsolete. Never mind the fact that lead vocalist Rodrigo Amarante can sound eerily like Julian Casablancas on tracks like the tropical “No One’s Better Sake” and the rockabilly-tinged “How to Hang a Warhol”. Little Joy is ultimately the product of a compelling stylistic focus, resulting in carefree and extremely accessible effort that allows simplicity to flourish in the most complementary way possible. Beautifully interweaved backing vocal harmonies, subdued rhythm sections, and the gentle twang of acoustic and electric guitars are a few of the components at work throughout the album, as is the powerful usage of Amarante’s breezy vocals. Though Little Joy was released a month or two after the warm days of summer, it is inarguably a perfect album for the season. Additionally, even though Amarante is the lead vocalist throughout the majority of the album, Moretti’s girlfriend, Binki Shaprio, shines brightly with her backing vocals and on “Unattainable”, an unrequited love ballad that blends gentle acoustical melodies and hushed vocal harmonies. This track, in addition to irresistibly luxurious efforts like “The Next Time Around”, makes Little Joy a sure winner.

Little Joy – The Next Time Around

Little Joy – Unattainable

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48. Phoebe Killdeer and the Short Straws – Weather’s Coming

At one time in her life, Phoebe Killdeer was an eight-year-old who admired few people more than her musical hero, Tom Waits. As a college student, such a fact was quite alarming to me. After all, I have some friends my age who STILL are not mature enough to even respect Waits as a songwriter. For an eight-year-old to recognize such prevalent talent, it can perhaps prove to be an indicator of their future musical endeavors. Well, this was at least true in Killdeer’s case. Now a renowned songwriter who, like Waits, continues to defy stylistic and methodical norms, her solo debut, Weather’s Coming, exhibited both a raw display of talent and a veneration for artists of the past and present with a swirling stylistic fusion of jazz, Afro-pop, blues, and folk. The audibly emotional fury of “Big Fight” plays with a form of vocalized free-jazz that sees a variety of woodwinds and brass combine with the constant use of an upright bass to create a purely enthralling sense of tension. It sounds like something Matthew Herbert would have crafted, but the credit here goes to Killdeer and her noted producer Marc Collin. “Let Me” sees her pop approach in more conventional form, using elements of Afro-pop in the echoey keys and supplementing electric guitar. Combined with the serene elegance of Killdeer’s voice, it creates a resoundingly successful atmosphere that contributes to an album that has been criminally overlooked this year.

Phoebe Killdeer & The Short Straws – Let Me

Phoebe Killdeer & The Short Straws – Big Fight

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47. Firekites – The Bowery

Speaking of criminally overlooked albums, Firekites’ The Bowery has subtly emerged as one of this year’s finest folk-oriented efforts. The focus throughout the release is folk music, but the subtle implementation of jazz and even electronica is executed flawlessly by this Australian collective. Some tracks like “Same Suburb Different Park” tend to have more emphasis on electronica, while the beautiful “New Year Has Spoken” seems more inclined to tread in folkier and jazzier waters. Regardless though, every track on The Bowery flourishes with exceptional songwriting and instrumentation that gives the group more depth than the majority of their contemporaries, a complement that also weighs heavily on their ability to multifariously emit a selection of styles. Two tracks in particular, “Autumn Story” and “Paris”, are particularly indicative of this wildly successful fusion of folk and electronica. “Autumn Story” gradually shifts from a sole acoustical melody to one that is accompanied by tragically empowering strings and steady percussion, eventually supplemented by a gurgling synth pad that echoes the initial guitar melody elegantly. The usage here is subtle underneath the strings and intricate guitar progression, but it adds to the atmosphere of the track even more so. The instrumental “Paris” utilizes synth pads in similar form, throwing it under a variety of simultaneous guitar progressions. When the distant use of an upright bass is heard, the percussion picks up and introduces the listener to a more vigorous instrumental approach. The introduction, like every stylistic preface on this beautiful album, is one that proves highly rewarding and consistently satisfying.

Firekites – Autumn Story

Firekites – Paris

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46. Destroyer – Trouble in Dreams

Dan Bejar, better known under his Destroyer alias, has made a name for himself as one of the most consistent songwriters in contemporary indie-rock ever since the 1996 release of his debut, We’ll Build Them a Golden Bridge. He is also known as one of the most prolific, releasing eight LPs in a span of eleven years and appearing on a countless number of year-end lists because of it. Well, here he is again with Trouble in Dreams, an effort that sees him continuing with his uniquely invigorating delivery and continuously impressive songwriting. Whether you happen to be a fan of The New Pornographers, Swan Lake, or Destroyer itself, Bejar’s vocals has become one of the most recognizable in contemporary indie-rock for good reason. Trouble in Dreams, his eighth LP, finds . Debating which Destroyer album is the most worthwhile can be a trivial affair, as it is a widely accepted opinion that he has yet to release an album under the alias that lacks his usual vigor and strengths as a songwriter. That being said, Trouble in Dreams is simply like his other albums: engrossing and melodically rewarding, both in ways that improve with each successive listen. The eight-minute “Shooting Rockets (From the Desk of Night’s Ape)” proves to be one the album’s best efforts, throwing in plenty of Bejar’s expected metaphors over a forceful display of swift keys and roaring guitars to create something that is epic and masterfully constructed. The same can be said for the majority of the album, as Bejar has once again crafted something worth contributing to his status as one of the most consistent songwriters in indie-rock.

Destroyer – Shooting Rockets (From the Desk of Night’s Ape)

Destroyer – My Favorite Year

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45. White Denim – Workout Holiday

The Austin-based White Denim hold more importance than being identified as one of the first groups to embrace netlabels as a source of distribution. They also are showing that the quality of music does not have to be poor or even mediocre for this type of distribution. In fact, the material can be quite excellent, as their debut album, Workout Holiday, quite perfectly demonstrates. The first version of the album (the “Tour EP”) was released in 2007 under the digitalized RCRD LBL, resulting in a considerable amount of attention for a group who had always been a live favorite in their native Texas. The EP version of Workout Holiday was then re-released in 2008 under the same name, featuring several new tracks and re-recorded versions of older ones. “Sitting” and “I Can Tell You” are two examples of their newer material, being two of the more gratifying displays of the group’s gritty mixture of blues and garage-rock. “Sitting” is an outstanding display of the trio’s youthful energy, as vocalist James Petralli indicates immediately with his quivering croon over a slick piano progression. The remainder of the group – bassist Steve Terebecki and drummer Joshua Block – then come in with a very lively rhythm section, an aspect of the band’s repertoire that proves to be one of their major strengths throughout the release. “I Can Tell You” also proves worthwhile as an ode of sorts to early punk, using a repetitive structure over aggressive guitars, a bustling rhythm section, and – the best component – a small sprinkling of keys at the end of each verse. Their methods may have changed from self-distributing CD-Rs at shows to signing with a netlabel and then signing with an actual label, but the newest release of Workout Holiday proves vastly enjoyable regardless of the release format.

White Denim – Sitting

White Denim – I Can Tell You

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44. Benoît Pioulard – Temper

The concept of lo-fi music can occasionally end up being too pretentiously overbearing for some. It can be used as an attempt to cloak a songwriter’s inabilities or a producer’s lack of grandiosity, but there is little doubt surrounding a select group of artists who embrace the style and use it masterfully. Benoît Pioulard is one of them. He recorded his debut EP, Enge, on a built-in computer, an early indication of his lo-fi endeavors. Listening to his second full-length, Temper, though, I start to wonder whether that “lo-fi” tag can even apply any more. Pioulard has hardly changed, with his interests in tape decay and field recordings fusing together to create a sound that uses elements of folk, pop, and electronic in a delicately consuming form. However, the amount of intricacies that lie in any one of the album’s 16 songs makes it seem like it is from another world; it is usually not an aspect of so-called “lo-fi”. Often using ambiance in the background of tracks, whether it be natural elements like rain falling in “The Loom Pedal” or melodic attributes like the eerie bells on “Ardoise”, Pioulard’s success derives primarily from an impressive amount of well-executed ideas. “Idyll”, one of the album’s more accessible efforts, sees a very simplistic acoustic guitar progression being repeated throughout the entire duration of the track. Adding on numerous complementary instrumental layers is what to be expected and he does so here, but when combined with his caressing, lyrically indistinguishable voice, the result is anything but predictable. The same can be said for a track like “The Loom Pedal”, where a repeating acoustic guitar progression is warmly embraced by a synth pad that alters the barren atmosphere into something resoundingly effective. While Temper is perfect for a late-night listen with its gently plucked progressions and use of desolate electronica, the cumulative innovational success engineered by Pioulard makes it more than a nightly affair.

Benoît Pioulard – Idyll

Benoît Pioulard – The Loom Pedal

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43. Howlin Rain – Magnificent Fiend

Back in the day when groups like The Grateful Dead and The Allman Brothers reigned supreme, live performances were just as valued, if not more than, the albums themselves. Even if one was able to acquire the show’s setlist beforehand, it would likely prove absolutely irrelevant in determining the content of the performance. The musicians in each group altered their initial songs drastically, throwing in a variety of musical styles over structural dissimilarities in a form that sounded ingeniously cohesive and somehow reminiscent of the original song at hand. When listening to Howlin Rain’s second album, Magnificent Fiend, it is quite conspicuous that the Oakland-based collective lean towards a similar school of thought. Appropriately meshed in with the “jam band” standards of blues, rock, psychedelia, and folk, Howlin Rain have crafted an album full of unpredictable hooks that are highly indicative of a group with a studied vision of their stylistic roots. “El Rey” is an excellent example of the grup’s multi-instrumental prowess, utilizing a variety of keys and organs over a prominent brass section. The chorus is the biggest treat here, where a series of brass clashes with Ethan Miller’s wailing vocals to show just how perfectly implemented his soulful presence is. Miller’s howl during “Dancers at the End of Time” sounds like some sort of possessed preacher, with a backdrop of vigorous guitar progressions and straining organs acting as the composed followers. The main lyrical focus of “El Rey” describes this group best: “You don’t have to change; you don’t have to hold onto your past.” A similar musical style has been evident for several decades, but the unpredictably enjoyable way that Howlin Rain present their outstanding songwriting and integration of influences is what separates them from the rest.

Howlin Rain – El Rey

Howlin Rain – Dancers at the End of Time

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42. Hilotrons – Happymatic

Relying heavily on a genre that fans and critics alike generally tend to call “outdated” can prove to be a risky venture. That is, unless it is performed in such a unique way that it instead appears as an updated memento rather than an outdated . With a clever mixture of humor, wit, and stylistic accuracy, Hilotrons have released one of the surprise successes of 2008 with their third album, Happymatic. Whether Happymatic finds the Canadian five-piece tackling synth-pop on “Emergency Street” and “Streets of Science”, new-wave on “Love Suit” and “Caught on Video”, or odes to the spaghetti westerns of Ennio Morricone on the instrumental “Feet First”, there is something for everyone with at least a slight hunger for everything good that came out of the ‘80s. That is not to say the album is entirely a trip to the past though, as tracks like “Deep River” and “Big Plans” provide an inventive edge to contemporary indie-rock with snappy guitar progressions and superbly vigorous rhythm sections that allow such efforts to stay within the cohesive range of successful attempts at synth-pop and new-wave. “Big Plans”, while not the most intricately impressive effort on the album, proves to be one of the most fun with a chorus that borders on ska and reggae. Mix in a bit of Hilotrons’ trademark new-wave and you have yourself an extremely appetizing style to gravitate toward. For a more proficient example of their songwriting, the intense build-up toward the chorus in “Big River” is hard to beat. For an album that contains so many styles (many of which are blasts to the past), it is extraordinary how cohesive Happymatic. For a group who has been flying under the radar for over six years now, this is a fantastic effort that should give them some well-deserved recognition.

Hilotrons – Deep River

Hilotrons – Big Plans

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41. Cineplexx – Picnic

After the sleepless city life of New York City prompted Sebastian Litmanovich to pursue music as a producer and songwriter, he did something slightly unexpected: he returned home to Argentina. You would figure that with all the connections, sights, and opportunities that New York City has to offer, an up-and-coming artist would be at least skeptical of leaving. Not Litmanovich though, as he valued comfort to . This wise decision allowed him to flourish as an artist, playing with the post-rock group Amarena Incident and co-founding a design studio before Cineplexx was even orchestrated. Now, after ten years and five full-length albums, he is widely accredited as being one of the most talented Argentinian musicians of the decade. For his fifth album, the masterful Picnic finds Litmanovich at his absolute finest in crafting an album that defies all atmospheric expectations. Using a variety of twinkling keys, placid guitar progressions, and synthesizers, he has created an extremely lush arena for his beautiful songs to play out in. The standout “Droga Paliativa” fuses together electronic and acoustical aspects of pop music to result in something that proves quite extraordinary. The varying use of reverb on Litmanovich’s hushed vocals adds to the atmospheric brilliance, with the infectiousness of the track also being an unavoidable characteristic of the overall success found on “Droga Paliativa”. For a more poised representation of Litmanovich’s skills as a pop songwriter and perhaps future composer of film scores, the beautiful “Humedad” reaps benefits from twinkling keys and sweepingly somber string arrangements. The same can be said for “Novatone 500mg”, an instrumental effort that sees a highly ardent melody flourish with the appropriate touches of synthesizers, samplers, and automated percussion. Whether he is using dozens and dozens of synthetically engineered samples or a single acoustic guitar, the lushly invigorating atmosphere that Litmanovich stirs up on Picnic is nothing short of breathtaking.

Cineplexx – Droga Paliativa

Cineplexx – Humedad


[audio:http://mineorecords.com/mp3/cplexx-hum.mp3]

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The post Best Albums of 2008: #50 to #41 appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

One of the many aspects of music that I have always found fulfilling relates to how influences have no cultural boundaries. While traditional music that holds some merit toward a country’s cultural values and historical contexts should be universally embraced, the fact that music has become a stylistic melting pot of sorts should convince cynics that musicians will never simply run out of ideas. Though the technological advances in worldwide communication are contributing to the rapid withdrawal of exclusively cultural lifestyles and beliefs, the advances in intercultural competence are becoming especially prevalent, thanks in part to the allocation of opinions regarding the developments of creating and listening to music. In this regard, cultural relativism seems to be becoming more abundant, at least in the sense that musical styles are overlapping more than ever. Virtually every prominent international artist is now at the fingertips of anyone with Internet access, as are many unrecognizable ones that would have been excited to merely get a mention in their own country, nonetheless one that is thousands of miles away. Over the past few years, I have done my best in exposing a wide variety of artists from all over the world, with one reason being that I feel everyone should be exposed to quality music regardless of its geographical origins. Another reason, though, is also rooted in the fact that I personally find artists who successfully mix both cultural and stylistic preferences to be genuinely fascinating.

If one were to sift through the Japanese on 4 Bonjour’s Parties‘ web site, it would be quite evident that the seven-piece are a perfect example of this culturally impartial ideology. Devoting a section on their site to an organized table that individually displays each of the band members’ instruments, influences, hobbies, and birthdays, the most immediately noticeable aspect of this band’s composure is the group’s cumulative multi-instrumental ability. Five of the seven are capable of playing three or more instruments, a rather indicative display of the group’s full-fledged sound. Upon further inspection though, what was most striking to me was their individualistic influences. Whether they chose to show their regard for American rock acts like Radiohead and Animal Collective, legendary French composers of the past in the vein of Serge Gainsbourg and Michel Legrand, or native Japanese artists like Sunny Day Service and Eiichi Ohtaki, the references were eclectic enough to make their audible talent not at all surprising. And as you can see, their influences derive from all over the world, being synonymous with their subtly ingenious style of play. Despite each member possessing a differing collection of favorite artists, the fact that all of their choices are within the same stylistic realm is one of the reasons for their very compelling sound. It can most certainly be attributed to a solid working relationship, one that is obviously productive considering the high degree of sheer success that their full-length debut delivers upon.

While the Tokyo-based septet appear willing to capitalize upon their sound of their influences – as broad as they may be – in a form that is cumulatively productive, some may initially feel inclined to call the group’s stylistic direction indecisive before giving them a listen. After all, how is a band expected to blend elements of contemporary indie-rock and post-rock, French orchestral pop, ‘60s psychedelia, and classic Japanese folk music into one cohesive album? Well, the only productive response to skepticism in this case is to create a style that is purely your own, and this is exactly what 4 Bonjour’s Parties did with their debut, Pigments Drift Down to the Brook. The album title proves to be startlingly appropriate, with the meshing of styles practically representing a variety of colors in themselves as they slowly collide and overlap to create something that the eyes (or the ears in this case) have never seen (or heard) before. Figurative guesswork aside, the presentation on Pigments Drift Down to the Brook simply has to be heard to get a true grasp of. The seven-piece somehow find a way to manage incorporating dozens of different forms of instrumentation – from guitars, bass, and percussion to brass, woodwinds, and samplers – to create something that is magnificently cohesive and dazzlingly gratifying.

With half of the ten songs on Pigments Drift Down to the Brook exceeding six minutes in length, duration is one of the reasons why 4 Bonjour’s Parties are able to craft such stylistically multifarious efforts with such seamlessness. They do not rush in demonstrating the expansion of their ideas, instead choosing to take their time with their ideas; it is one of the aspects that contributes to the overall success of the release. The progressively epic “Satellite” evolves in the first minute from a singular key progression to an extremely expansive accompaniment featuring a bustling rhythm and several simultaneous uses of woodwind instruments. When the woodwinds subside, the chorus enters and establishes a mood that is both tranquil and dramatically effective. Some very traditional high-pitched Japanese female vocals soon accompany the initial male lead vocals, forming an overlapping bundle of pure beauty that is complemented superbly by a gently intricate electric guitar arpeggio in the background. “I feel some confusion,” they sing together, a rather stark statement considering the remarkably layered sets of instrumentation that are behind them. From this point on, the song concludes in epic form, showcasing a brass or woodwind solo here and there to the occasional re-emergence of the aforementioned chorus. When it all settles down with the gentle croon of a saxophone over the dying patter of a reverbed drum, a realization concerning the track’s brilliance should arrive to even the most inattentive listener.

The equally beautiful “Ruins” sees a change in the lead vocalist, a common occurrence throughout the album as the group appears wisely willing to capitalize on having both a very capable male and female vocalist. Angelic females lead here, with the male vocals eventually being melodically reflective during the verses. She takes the chorus on her own though, backed by little more than a prominent bass line and a dynamically soothing guitar progression. The bridge then introduces a twinkle of keys as the male vocals re-emerge, preparing for round two of this stunning effort. It then follows a barren instrumental approach for a bit, with keys serving as the lead over the initial vocal melody. All of the instruments return in shared form though, and they do so in a way that allows the listener to remember just how many chills ran up their spine when hearing the track’s chorus for the first time. I personally consider “Satellite” and “Ruins” to showcase 4 Bonjour’s Parties at their absolute best, but tracks like the expansively exotic “Ksana” and the atmospheric free-jazz of “Otogima Horse” show that 4 Bonjour’s Parties have the potential to find success in a similar way to that of their influences: all over the world.

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4 Bonjour’s Parties – Satellite

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4 Bonjour’s Parties – Ruins

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4 Bonjour’s Parties – Ksana

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A prevalent veneration for the past can certainly be detrimental to an artist’s work if their techniques are either outdated or generic, but holding such a high esteem for successful precedents can also prove to be quite beneficial when the artist maintains a constant yearning for innovation and quality. This is especially true in the field of music, where artists can flawlessly imitate a style performed regularly over 40 years ago due to the technological resources we have today. Many musicians and fans alike feel that this modernistic advantage causes some artists to overly regard style over substance (the actual songwriting) and this is very true, but it also reminds us how important songwriting and natural chemistry is in appliance to the creation of music. With many computer programs that replicate reverb, droning, and other aspects of audible production with names of presets that are precisely indicative of certain glaring genres like “dream-pop”, “shoegaze”, and “hard rock”, it is not entirely difficult for budding artists today to attempt any style and the accustomed method of production within it. This can be a productive measure for the sake of accessibility because music fans can now pursue songwriting and realistically attempt to sound like their valued influences. Its detriment, however, arrives in the fact that many may regard it too highly and dismiss the importance of songwriting and creativity altogether.

While it is extremely noticeable that The Harpeth Trace employ a stylistic formula that is highly reminiscent of the past, they are one of the few acts that chooses to focus on songwriting to an equal or higher extent. Their interpretation of subdued ‘60s pop is undoubtedly one of the most accurately enjoyable versions I have heard in quite some time, and this is not even the main reason why I am so hooked. Instead, it is the band’s magnificent songwriting that most consumes me. While maintaining a high degree of pure nostalgic bliss, this trio-gone-duo utilizes a wide array of moods and emotions within a consistent showcase of instruments that complement an anecdotal lyrical approach with rich imagery and intelligent metaphorical allusions. Multiple types of guitars with accentuated delay and reverb, weightless backing keys, and a delicate rhythm section are the primary contributors to most of the tracks on the group’s full-length debut, On Disappearing, and the three members did an excellent job of infusing a sense of equality within them. On a track like “Who Knows Where Are You”, though, the group relays their atmospheric brilliance with additional elements like a whirring synth pad that consumes the background as a clip of a bird chirping as played as the gentle rhythm section incorporates itself over Josh Kasselman ‘s caressing vocals. It is just a single example of many throughout an album full of memorable ones.

Keeping in sync with their steady grasp on the past, The Harpeth Trace take their name from Kasselman’s former childhood street name (Harpeth Trace Drive). If he added his first pet’s name, I wonder if the name would have ended up looking like something on a porn star name generator. That interesting tidbit aside, the initial formation of The Harpeth Trace revolved around the workings of singer/songwriter Kasselman, bassist/guitarist Rune Freeman, and drummer Robert Poynter, three friends from L.A. and Phoenix who had decided that their stylistic direction of relaxing ‘60s pop and lo-fi alternative was the right way to go. Freeman left in late 2005, but Barry Poage was quick to take over his role. Capitalizing on their stylistic vision, The Harpeth Trace released their first release in 2005, entitled Man and the Cousin. Drawing critical acclaim for its timeless ability to capture nostalgic pop music while remaining within the realm of contemporary production, fans of psychedelic and ‘60s pop took notice and the group found a burgeoning fan base at their side as they began work on their full-length. Contrary to the recent release date of On Disappearing, the album was actually finished in December of 2006. Kasselman, though, opted to release the album in January of 2008 instead because he spent the majority of 2007 on a trip across Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia.

Unable to support the album from such a distant location, the decision to wait and release the album after he returned to US now looks like a wise one. After all, On Disappearing is one of those few debuting full-lengths that simultaneously offers a focused style and excellent songwriting that supplements that style in ways that are both innovative and captivating. Kasselman truly makes his mark as the group’s songwriter and vocalist, his airily high-pitched vocals being somewhat reminiscent of The Clientele’s Alasdair MacLean. The stylistic comparison to The Clientele is prevalent as well due to their mutual reverence for ‘60s pop, but I find The Harpeth Trace to have a significantly more subdued sound that is more focused on gradually evolving guitar progressions, intricately evolving rhythm sections, and progressive layers over The Clientele’s sweeping string arrangements and, in comparison, more bustling rhythm sections. For instance, one of my favorite tracks on On Disappearing, “Dead Eyes” begins with a single guitar progression before it gradually expands into an intricate array of multifarious guitars, bass, and percussion. The intensity of the group’s rhythm section is often indicative of the overall instrumental involvement, with the transitional movements in the bass lines and rhythmic spurs often establishing stellar hooks over impeccable harmonizing; this particular technique occurs in “Dead Eyes” around 01:55 after the keys emerge as yet another stellar accompanying attribute.

While “Dead Eyes” proves rather accessible for its ethereal grasp of ‘60s pop, another track like “Who Knows Where You Are” infuses psychedelic pop with minimalism (complements of the chirping clips) to create an outstanding effort that adds more depth and experimentation to an album that already boasts a nice amount of it. After the whirring synth pad becomes more subdued, a guitar progression emerges for the elegantly applicable chorus, one that features multiple vocal harmonies and a somber bass line that truly takes over the melodic bulk in fantastic form. “Georgia May”, while still in the vein of ‘60s pop, is the briskest effort on the album with a tinge of folk and country in Kasselman’s altered delivery. In terms of additional instrumentation, strings make a dramatic appearance toward the conclusion of “Kodachrome Wolves” to establish it as a graceful concluding effort alongside the sparse mixture of keys and acoustics in the beautiful closing “Hotel Bristol Forever” to wrap up an excellent album. Currently, after the departure of Freeman and recently Poynter, The Harpeth Trace is down to a duo with Kasselman and Poage. Still, as their web site states, they are already in the studio working on another album and “maybe even two”. Based on the effort of On Disappearing alone, that sounds like great news to me.

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The Harpeth Trace – Dead Eyes

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The Harpeth Trace – Georgia May

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The Harpeth Trace – Who Knows Where You Are

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