All the Wrong People Are Dying is not actually an album, but a collection of the earlier Styrenes album A Monster and a Devil alongside several 12”s and a compilation track. Somehow, despite the cobbled-together nature of its assembly, the CD flows more cohesively than most properly assembled albums do. Go figure.

The Styrenes, initially in a post-punk vein more similar to fellow Cleveland stand-outs like Pere Ubu or Human Switchboard, truly came into their own when they began recording spoken word material, the majority of which can be found on this release and We Care, So You Don’t Have To. Earlier tracks like “Drano in Your Veins” or “Electricity” (reworked on this album as “Memory of You”) have a certain charm, but seem to be pulling punches by comparison. It’s an odd brand of spoken word, one that better captures an indigenous American music more than any other band I’ve spoken to. It’s the music of working class people telling stories of despair and violence over a loud jukebox in a bar, and not just any bar.

See, most bars fall into what I would roughly term the “sex-death” continuum, in that people go to bars to either get laid or to slowly kill themselves. I have always been more attracted to the bars more firmly positioned on the death end of the spectrum; that’s where the better stories are. Everyone in them, terminal janitors or people who otherwise serve at hipper bars or youth of a sympathetic disillusionment to my own, are filled with reports back from the mundane disappointments of small town living… cyclical like Greek tragedies, seemingly inevitable in retrospect and repetitious enough where sometimes the inevitability becomes apparent before the retrospection.

The Styrenes get this with a remarkable lack of superficial beat influence. The dissonance of their backing tracks account not only for the incessant piping jukeboxes, but the passing of nearby traffic and the unpacking of night delivery trucks. Though seemingly a source text to bands like The Hold Steady and Lifter Puller, they are working on an entirely different wavelength, an older more matured one where the promise of psychedelic drugs no longer seems promising, where one will mumble the sexier of their failures and hang-ups in their mind like pop songs, sometimes as pop songs in less eloquent moments. It’s no mistake that the most straightforward and catchiest track on the album is the torch song “Memory of You”. It’s the genuine appeal of the narrator’s memory, not the woman left behind (who isn’t even detailed at all in the lyrics), but the moth-eaten garage sale Sinatra sleeve vibe of the whole thing. The promise of more dignified and wonderful failures.

Avant-garde wind instruments are employed in excellent poetic metaphor on tracks like “Two Up Two Down”, the true story of a kidnapping and execution, and the wonderful 20 minute epic “Jetsam”. Though the woodwind squeal had been used similarly in early Pere Ubu tracks like “Laughing”, to mimic and distort the rhythms of laughter and machinery, the much extended track run-times of The Styrenes give these more time to morph and create fluid meaning. “Jetsam” in particular is the track that “Revolution #9” was supposed to be; we have the atonality those of police scanners, prolonged enough to avoid the initial shock of trauma, to normalize them. Then prolonged enough to come to deeper shock of normalization. The narrative of two attractive people falling into a swirl of drugs and misfortune is announced with such understatement as to lack all romance, another great achievement of the track.

“True Confessions” hearkens back to the feel of The Velvet Underground’s “The Murder Mystery”, and I would argue is the album’s weakest track for it. The collapsing of three voices into one sonic entity feeling too strictly formal for such direct proceedings. Despite this, the band continues to explore dissonance in exciting ways.

All the Wrong People, again despite the Frankenstein assembly, takes on a distinct arc, one of a descent into hell. The first three tracks all showcase the band reining in dissonant tendencies, showcasing a piano sensibility not foreign to the E-Street Band. But as the tracks become increasingly lengthier, the subject matter becomes darker, the wordplay becomes less playful, and the overall effect becomes much more abrasive to the listener. This is not an album one can put on loop or play casually on an iPod, but it’s a necessary one.

RIYL: Hold Steady, Lifter Puller, The Fall, Velvet Underground, Pere Ubu, Jack Kerouac, Bill Hicks, Lou Reed, Bruce Springsteen

MP3: The Styrenes – Jaguar Ride

The Styrenes – Ignore Alien Orders

Official Site / MySpace / BUY

The post Styrenes – All the Wrong People are Dying (1998) appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Darren Aronofksy, the acclaimed director of gritty (albeit visually stimulating) films like Requiem for a Dream and Black Swan, will direct the music video for “Iced Honey”, a track from Lou Reed and Metallica’s collaborative album, Lulu. Along with chief cameraman Matthew Libatique, Aronofksy will film the video in the San Francisco Bay area. It’s expected to be completed by mid-December.

Based on Frank Wedekind’s plays about a stripper-turned-socialite-turned-prostitue, Lulu is a concept album that has been panned by critics as one of the worst releases of 2011. This isn’t the first time Metallica has been attached to a big-name director. Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich apparently still loses sleep over turning down Quentin Tarantino’s offer to include “Enter Sandman” and “Sad But True” in Kill Bill, though it’s doubtful Tarantino cared much; the Kill Bill: Volume 1 soundtrack is one of the best aspects of the film, and Metallica didn’t seem suitable in the first place. It’s doubtful that Tarantino, or even Aronofsky for that matter, will have any remote interest in featuring a track from Lulu in any of their upcoming films. But who knows? Since Aronofsky is a master of producing squeamish images that chill the senses, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea…

Lou Reed + Metallica – The View

Lou Reed + Metallica – Iced Honey (30-second preview)

BUY

The post Darren Aronofsky to Direct Lou Reed & Metallica’s “Iced Honey” appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

“Early Bird” quickly transitions between haunting organ sounds and quick swipes of guitar, the former more in the vein of neo-psychedelia and the latter more like garage-rock. A lovely meshing of vintage sounds, to be sure, much like contemporaries in the vein of Ariel Pink. Lotus Feet show comfort in their influences only to a certain extent though, as their musicianship is apparent in itself. They draw upon Pink Floyd influences later in the track with clashing frequencies and samples, all retained over the original melody that is fixed in organs, guitars, and a very pronounced bass. The beginning will probably draw comparisons to The Doors first, since Jim Morrison’s voice is naturally comparable all throughout Animals in the Attic. Think if ever Morrison was attached to a Pink Floyd project. Lotus Feet is the closest you can get to that, so it helps that the musicians involved are all impeccably collected.

The icy keys in “Child’s Play” sounds like it would be more at home in a Björk track, and it certainly sounds odd considering the two preceding tracks, ” Early Bird” and “Evidence”, is brisk neo-psychedelia with a vast assortment of instrumentation. But by the time the chorus arrives in “Child’s Play”, with its caressing bass and reflective guitar tones, the serene feeling of psychedelia re-emerges. “The apple I see fell far from the tree,” the mysterious voice sings, constantly evoking natural images as he treads through the gentle arrangement. The production is strongly reminiscent of The Velvet Underground, with monotonous vocal deliveries emerging as champions over laid-back musical accompaniments that, underneath their placidity, are remarkably brilliant and complex. “Nothing to stress about while we’re still young,” he sings, capricious like Jens Lekman but complexly ambitious like Lou Reed. Like most of Lotus Feet’s tracks, influences are strong, but the band’s original songwriting is even stronger.

Lotus Feet could sound at home in any darkly mysterious film, particularly if David Lynch ever created some homage to the ’70s psychedelic scene. That might be a mistake though, as Lotus Feet’s music is the type that demands your attention. It will not reach conventional radio due to its broad scope, as the songs could delightfully stretch to 10+ minutes if need be and still sound adventurous and captivating. All eight songs on Animals in the Attic have their moment, per say, and most have several ones that recall nostalgically inventive songwriting at its finest. “Cold Days” almost gets caught up in its post-rock construction from time to time, while the subsequent “Hibernation” follows up on that desire and is a blissed-out space instrumental until the two-minute mark, when high-pitched strings and choir-like vocals serve as introductory measures to a folky interlude. The sound of an acoustic guitar here is particularly welcome, along with a lighthearted vocal accompaniment that for the first time on Animals in the Attic recalls perky ’60s pop more than brooding psychedelia and post-rock.

Speaking of David Lynch, “Sunshine” sounds like it could have been lifted straight out of Twin Peaks. A video of The Man From Another Place dancing along to this and snapping has fingers has to be out there somewhere. It serves as a nice lead-in to the similarly retro “Take Time (Cabaret)”, which sounds like early Dr. Dog material. This is probably as far back as the album spans, with this being an ode to music of ’40s and ’50s both lyrically and music. “As long as the song’s in four-four time, oh the youngsters they won’t mind,” he sings aptly. The closer “Under the Blankets” fronts a haunting croon, a delicate acoustic guitar, and the sound of crickets and wildlife. An occasional flicker of keys give the track a translucent and nightly feel, establishing a fantastic mood to wind down after an extremely ambitious album. It solidifies the point that every song on Animals in the Attic is worthwhile, even if the sheer amount of ideas can be daunting to tackle. Give it a chance though. It is one of the most successfully ambitious albums of the year.

RIYL: Pink Floyd, The Doors, Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti, The Velvet Underground, Dr. Dog, Abernethy, David Bowie, Lou Reed, The Zombies, King Crimson, Jefferson Airplane, The Who, The Kinks, Jethro Tull, Camel, Porcupine Tree, Cream, Teenage Fanclub, Big Star, Iron Butterfly, Wishbone Ash

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Lotus Feet – Early Bird

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Lotus Feet – Child’s Play

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Lotus Feet – Evidence

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MySpace

The post Lotus Feet appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

by Mike Mineo

For the average music fan, it would be easy to say Damon Albarn is cheating. His Gorillaz project has been one of the best-selling groups of the past decade for several reasons. While Gorillaz is certainly aided by a PR-friendly campaign of engrossing visuals courtesy of Jamie Hewlett, Albarn’s success is indebted largely to his inarguable talent as an alarmingly consistent songwriter and producer. As one of the most melodically gifted pop songwriters of the past several decades, his consistencies defy expectations for any songwriter prominent since the early ‘90s. For over twenty years, he has been producing stellar material, with each of his most popular projects – Blur and Gorillaz – becoming some of the most popular acts of their respective decades. Blur, in my opinion, was the best Brit-pop act of the ’90s. We see this now more clearly as groups like Oasis and Suede dissolved into nothingness, shortly prior to Albarn disbanding of Blur on amicable terms before they released even one flop. Albarn’s prevalent ambition has always suggested a discontent with treading in one stylistic spot too long, as even with Blur one can see obvious differences between the catchy pop of Parklife and more atmospheric-driven works on 13. That he would pursue a commercial-friendly blend of ominous pop and infectious trip-hop after Blur was not at all surprising, nor was the massive success of Gorillaz that followed.

Plastic Beach, to put it bluntly, is the most selfless album Albarn has ever done. Even looking at the tracklisting of Gorillaz’s third album can be daunting. The sixteen tracks, only four of which appear to have no collaborators, make it bear an initial resemblance to a hip-hop mixtape. After all, can anyone even envision Lou Reed, Mos Def, Snoop Dogg, and Bobby Womack working on the same album together? Perhaps this sounds odd, but like a quality mixtape Plastic Beach is bound to introduce listeners to new artists using a concept and artist they are already familiar with. From cult staples of classic-rock like Reed and Mark E. Smith to relevant staples of contemporary hip-hop culture like Snoop Dogg and Mos Def, Albarn is somehow able to pull off an experiment of epic proportions that finds amazing consistency in his ability to revel in other’s supplemental talents. Other more low-key collaborators, like Little Dragon and Hypnotic Brass Ensemble, are going to achieve substantial recognition on account of Albarn’s cleverness and, in some cases, actually prevail over the bigger names. Albarn writes and produces all the tracks here, using these collaborators as instruments of sorts to fulfill visions of stylistic defiance. By all accounts, Plastic Beach may end up being a timeless album for one specific reason: Albarn has taken timeless performers themselves, those that have developed a certain stylistic movement, and adjusts his songwriting formula for them specifically. This is the same type of songwriting that, after over twenty years, has proved timeless itself.

Stemming from this timeless quality is an album that is stunningly cohesive despite running nearly an hour. On 2005’s Demon Days, Gorillaz employed Danger Mouse to produce a more vivid form of their dark, brooding, but often infectious blend of pop trip-hop. The album was certainly a large success, but at times felt constrained to one technique of production that relied on Danger Mouse’s slight linearity. Despite having several other producers at hand, the final vision felt constricted and too uniform. This is corrected somewhat immediately on Plastic Beach, where “Orchestral Intro” clashes with ocean sounds and a climactic string accompaniment. Think Philip Glass meets Gustavo Santaolalla. Only a minute long, it merely sets up “Welcome to the World of Plastic Beach”, which is basically an extended introduction in itself. Even if its purpose is more atmospheric than hook-driven, hearing Snoop Dogg as the first voice on a Gorillaz album brought a grin and, later, a surprising sense of satisfaction. Albarn caters to Snoop’s signature calmness with slowly vibrating synth arpeggios and a cooing vocoder in the background. Hypnotic Brass Ensemble, which is also outstanding during the Mos Def-featured “Sweepstakes”, provides plenty of orchestral elements that give the song a fantastic sense of fluidity. Leave it to Albarn to make vocoders actually sound good (even if Snoop helps out). If there is a production technique with a bad reputation, then Albarn practically considers it a challenge to make it sound good. As usual, he succeeds here.

One of the album’s brightest moments is “Rhinestone Eyes”, a track that sounds like classic Gorillaz in its minimalistic, sample-led resemblance to efforts like “DARE” and “Clint Eastwood”. This is one of the few efforts with no collaborators, which is practical because even one may have diluted Albarn’s sole presence. This is an utterly infectious, nearly flawless work that stands alongside “Feel Good Inc.” as a readily accessible gem that capitalizes upon Gorillaz’s uniqueness. The Noodle-like audio sample during the chorus of shrill synths, the sample of a woman’s “oh!” during a serene escape from percussion and bass, and the main organ lead are a few examples of ingeniously concocted placements of hook-driven madness that reminds us why Albarn relishes in critical acclaim with each album. I cannot get enough of this song, and I doubt it will get sickening by the time radios are blasting it this summer. The only effort that comes close in downright infectiousness is “Pirate Jet”, a teaser of sorts that concludes the album. With a pulsating shrill of an organ directing itself over a kangaroo bounce sort of percussion, it is a somewhat apt way to close off the album considering Albarn’s next foray will be with the re-formed Blur. This is vintage Albarn pop, with few electronic modifications creating either an ominous or soothing atmosphere. In the vein of “Boys & Girls”, it drives home an insanely catchy melody and has no faults in presentation or demeanor, its lead melody carrying everything. Here, it basks in exuberance again. “Still connected to the moment it begun,” he sings, almost ironically in the sense that this is most certainly a throwback to his younger days as a songwriter.

“Superfast Jellyfish” is intended to be radio-friendly like “Stylo” and “Rhinestone Eyes”, but its lack of expansion makes more novelty than quality. De La Soul really does a great job of delivering verse-per-verse, but Gruff Rhys feels sort of wasted in his short cameo during the chorus. The melody here is way too simplistic and underwhelming in comparison to what is presented later, mainly because the last minute or so goes into an addictive array of escalating synths that tends to magnify the earlier . This section resembles the hurried music to Super Mario Bros. and it could not have been done better. Enough has been made of “Stylo” by now, as it is one of the strongest singles of 2010 thus far. It is the quintessential example of Albarn’s collaborative genius, which finds him juggling Bobby Womack’s soulful howl with Mos Def’s rhythmically inclined spurs to produce a riveting accomplishment. Its dark, synth-y vibe along with Womack’s trademark croon makes it sounds like an early ‘80s lovechild of disco, soul, and recently emerging synth-pop. The song gives nothing to complain about, and continues an amazing stretch of songs that begins at “Rhinestone Eyes”. Among these is “Some Kind of Monster”, a head-scratching sort of track that makes you ask how Albarn made electro-pop and Lou Reed mix cohesively. I have to say, one of the most rewarding moments on the album is when Reed plays along with Albarn during the song’s latter two choruses. It is effective because it surprisingly works, but mainly because it is impossible to resist Reed when he stutters “some kind of nature, some kind of soul” at the song’s final moments. His accompaniment is not just novelty either… listening to this song, his parts seems absolutely essential to its success.

One of the unexpected stars on an album full of them is Sweden’s Little Dragon. They appear on two tracks, “Empire Ants” and “To Binge”, which both serve as accomplished standouts. Vocalist Yukimi Nagano is utterly consuming with an obvious background in jazz, experience that works incredibly well for musicians in the vein of Albarn or Matthew Herbert that employ rhythmically-based electronic-pop. “To Binge” sounds like a tropical treat with its high-pitched keys and soft cooing vocals, the style retaining a psychedelia influnece with flourishes of reverbed guitar and vocals. The duet here between Albarn and Nagano is quite nice too, as her beautiful voice interweaves well with Albarn’s distinctive voice. “Empire Ants” is already a fan favorite for good reason. It generally exists in two parts: one where we find Albarn singing softly over a beautiful accompaniment of acoustic guitars and pianos, the other where Nagano takes control of pulse-charging synths that resemble material on Röyksopp’s Junior. Both sections are outstanding and the transition from one into another is seamless. “Cloud of Unknowning” is also a nice addition for its subtle beauty; when the woodwinds and strings finally converge, Womack is going to send chills up your spine just like he did in 1972 when he released “Across 110th Street”. I stand by this: Damon Albarn seems nearly equivalent to Quentin Tarantino when it comes to unexpected revivals. It also helps that neither of their résumés show a decrease in quality, giving artists like Reed and Womack comfort in knowing their legacies are in good hands.

Another recommendation is “Sweepstakes”, an overlooked gem featuring Mos Def that packs the build-up that most hip-hop tracks envy. I dare you to sit still once the brass kicks in. It is not a downright accessible effort like the extremely conventional but very pleasant “Melancholy Hill”, but as Mos Def eases the listener into his area of rhythmic comfort there is nothing that can deny the energy of his delivery when the Hypnotic Brass Ensemble provide their irresistible orchestral additions. The only two tracks I take issue with on the entire album are “Broken” and “White Flag” not American flag, both of which stumble out of the gate and never pick up the pace. If both of these tracks were omitted then the album would approach a rare instance of cumulative perfection. Spotty decisions and forced stylistic fixtures are faulty components of these two efforts, but the rest of Plastic Beach is just the opposite. From Little Dragon’s melodic synth-pop efforts to the wonderfully spontaneous additions of Mos Def and Lou Reed, this is one of the few collaborative albums that actually works. Easily one of the best albums of 2010, Plastic Beach is also one of the grandest musical accomplishments of the past decade. While most albums reliant on collaboration are commercial flops intending to cash in on popular names, this is an album where enjoyment will come in both the amazing quality of the songs and the talent that perfectly encompasses them. Rarely is an artist like Albarn willing to become so selfless to the point where listeners are finding other artists by listening to his music. When you have songs as great as those on Plastic Beach, I suppose there is nothing to lose.

9.5/10.0

RIYL: Blur, The Good, The Bad & The Queen, Daft Punk, Team Sleep, Radiohead, The Chemical Brothers, Soulwax, Massive Attack, Death in Vegas, Ratatat, The Prodigy, Röyksopp, Moby, Björk, MGMT, Cibo Matto, Goldfrapp

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Gorillaz – Rhinestone Eyes

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Gorillaz – Empire Ants (featuring Little Dragon)

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Gorillaz – Some Kind of Nature (featuring Lou Reed)

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Official Web Site (requires flash – have fun exploring the island)

MySpace

BUY: MP3, CD, CD/DVD

Entertainment Centers

Download free Gorillaz ringtones to your phone at http://www.brinked.com

The post Gorillaz – Plastic Beach (2010) appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Emotional variability is an aspect of art that all musicians value. An artist limiting one’s self to a consistent set of emotions can be detrimental to a listener’s perception of the artist, primarily due to the fact that an entire discography consisting of sulking or romanticized longing can become repetitively dull and topically overwrought if not done correctly. You can look at some fine artists who can do this successfully – The Smiths, Mark Kozelek, American Music Club, etc. – and find that their musical styles and structures often diversify the songs enough. And if not, the vocal diction is varied enough to capture a consistent audience for decades. There will always be a small select group of people who opt to only listen to somberly reflective alt-rock or mindless sexually-driven pop music due to their linear perception of the art of music in general, but most listeners enjoy occasional doses of topical diversity in the music the dedicate a lot of time in discovering. To combat such linearly mundane approaches while simultaneously delivering a consistent theme and set of central emotions, Daniel Smith has become notable for crafting songs with rich imagery, brooding contrasting instrumentation, and – arguably most importantly – the ability to interweave the two aspect to craft tales of bleakly entertaining circumstances. Under the alias of Begushkin, his lyrical journeys prove both wildly engrossing and startlingly unique.

When Smith’s debut, Nightly Things, was released in June of 2006, critics took note of the young Brooklynite’s prevalent ability to emit a plethora of lyrically-led topics without overwhelming the listener. Lovelorn desperation, violence and angst, maddening loneliness, and self-inflicted emotional wounds were a few of the relayed emotions involved, all with a supplemented cast of fictional characters and exotic locales that would make even songwriters in the storytelling vein of Tom Waits and Lou Reed grin with approval. The release’s style was centered in folk, with a few other elements like gypsy-rock and glam making subtle appearances. Acoustics often led the melody in the unique of forms, usually in a blatant minor key due to the brooding topics and backing instrumentation involved. It was by no means a solely acoustical affair though, as strings and accordions also made cameos that added to the rich qualities of Smith’s songs in extravagant form. His vocals are on another as well; they quiver and moan with a likeness to two other Daniel’s who dwell in the realm of oddball folk: Dan Bejar and Danielson, though the latter Daniel Smith ironically has no relation to Begushkin’s Smith. The main difference between these artists and Begushkin, though, may lie in Smith’s stylistic bearings.

Treading on a path located somewhere between Middle-Eastern gypsy-rock and folk-based Americana, his wholesome sound and derived influences turn out to be wholesomely his own. For Smith’s sophomore album, King’s Curse, he has chosen to expand upon a sound that was already enticingly original enough for the acclaimed reception of Nightly Things. King’s Curse sees a larger emphasis on the shades of gypsy-rock that made Nightly Things – particularly on the bustling guitar-led “Hearth Light of Our Home” – so memorable. The emotional intensity of Smith’s quivering vocals has also heightened the aspect of zealousness that complements the increased ferociousness of his general stylistic demeanor. The self-titled track is highly representative of his newly initiated narrative approach, with this track in particular being one of the faster-paced efforts on the album. The tempo is in accordance with the song’s narrative focus, one that tells of ruthless hierarchical figures and creatures that would appear to fit well in medieval folklore. “The gypsy king at last is dead!” Smith pronounces with glee, followed shortly by the ghastly accompaniment of female vocals. “But his soul I couldn’t save and hollers like a lunatic from the diamond cave.” Such a vividly haunting conclusion is one component that makes Smith so memorable; he seems to always establish a song’s focus and carry through with it until the listener reaches an extremely satisfying conclusion.

Though King’s Curse is more expansive and ardently expressive on a superficial level, “Murderer” demonstrates his more subdued attempts at plot-based thematic involvement in excellent form. “Cranberry wine, dripping down her spine,” he begins, backed by an ethereal electric guitar progression and the faint whirring of an organ. The chorus sees the rumbling of percussion enter with a sparse melodic shift; the song actually takes over three minutes to truly build up, resulting in a monstrously successful guitar solo that sees all formats of instrumentation enhance tremendously before the track reverts to its original subdued format before the conclusion. “Refugee & the Hag” is notable for Smith’s excellent vocal delivery and the guitar usage that contrasts it. He opts to use several sliding techniques in addition to his quivering snarls, a vocal element that appears most openly effusive in both “Refugee & the Hag” and “King’s Curse”. The last two tracks on the album, “The Beat & the King” and “Gone to Hell”, are easily the album’s most structurally ambitious. “The Beat & the King” recalls vintage Sunset Rubdown with its marching-band rhythmic pattern and increasingly volatile vocal accompaniment, while “Gone to Hell” sees some of Smith’s most commendable guitar work to date. Both exceed six minutes in length, but knowing Smith’s talents as both a storyteller and songwriter, he can make time fly by seamlessly. The bulk of King’s Curse is chock full of material like this; time just flies by so quickly when entertained by a master storyteller.

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Begushkin – Murderer

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Begushkin – King’s Curse

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Begushkin – Refugee & the Hag

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Locust Music

MySpace

BUY

The post Begushkin Catches a King’s Curse appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Ambition can play an interesting role in an artist’s production of their own music, especially during a dramatic period of stylistic transition. It sounds like common sense, but if one were to intricately shuffle through an influential artist’s entire discography, it would likely not prove very difficult to identify an ambitious peak. That being said, a high level of ambition does not always equate to success. Using a few commercially successful artists as an example: For every critically acclaimed classic like the sprawling White Album, there is usually something like Metal Machine Music that has warranted bashing since its release over 30 years ago. Both albums were considered ambitious peaks for The Beatles and Lou Reed, respectively, at the time but, while no one doubts Reed as being one of the greatest American songwriters of the late 20th century, the vision clearly did not work out for him in the instance of Metal Machine Music. Reed followed the disaster up with arguably his greatest album, Coney Island Baby, to immediately soothe concerns, consequently causing some to claim that the flawed nature of Metal Machine Music indirectly contributed to the success of Coney Island Baby. It is certainly a valid suggestion, if only for the fact that an artist’s level of ambition is something of a delicate nature that needs to be treated with care. In Reed’s case, past experience and failure likely led to him prevailing successfully one year later.

During its 8 year run, Moon Gringo established itself as one of the premiere indie-rock bands to come out of Denmark. Readers based out of the US and UK may scratch their heads at the name, but the six-piece saw substantial success in Denmark and several surrounding European countries due to a sound that was immediately infectious and satisfyingly accessible; take a listen to an excellent live version of “Mette Says No” on their MySpace for a great example of the energy and quality songwriting they conveyed during their run. One of the band’s leaders was a man by the name of Anders Rhedin, a songwriter who had a clear vision of success for the indie-rock sextet. Moon Gringo may not have been the most innovative group on the block, but their energy and irresistible array of hooks left few listeners hungry for more. Still, as a songwriter, Rhedin’s ambition began to get a hold of him. A fan of rock music all his life, he cut out the genre and started acquainting himself with a more diverse selection of music. “You know, I stopped reading music magazines, and stopped listening to indie rock,” Rhedin said in an interview. “I cut out what I had been listening to since forever, which was like European music and American music of the last 30 years.” He certainly holds no grudges against rock music, but after opening his mind up to a more eclectic set of composers, he grew and matured as a songwriter himself.

Influenced by composers as diverse as Arvo Part and Steve Reich, Rhedin recently formed Jong Pang in an effort to explore his increased diversity as a songwriter. “That was the idea behind Jong Pang: I wanted to see what Steve Reich would sound like if he was a rock band,” he explains. “I love the way that as soon as you listen to Steve Reich, a whole universe opens up, but if you just listen with one ear, it’s nothing.” With Jong Pang’s debut album, Bright White Light, Rhedin has successfully built a universe that coincides nicely with his own description of Reich’s expansive works. However, instead of toying with minimalism, Rhedin has remained within the realm of pop music, only this time with a boastful array of worldly influences that cause the final result to be unpredictable, engrossing, and wholesomely fascinating. Fans of Moon Gringo saw Rhedin’s undeniable skills as a songwriter nearly a decade ago, but Jong Pang marks the moment in which he has evolved and lived up to a considerable amount of potential. Rhedin serves as the brains behind Bright White Light but he also enlists the help of several other talented Danish musicians, a collection of over a dozen collaborators in which he entitles “The Jong Pang Collective”. The collective of collaborators also includes ex-Moon Gringo member Mette Hersoug.

With Rhedin’s diversified abilities as a songwriter fluidly coinciding with a group of collaborators who appear startlingly adept on both an instrumental and vocal level, Bright White Light is more than just an audible example of Rhedin’s growth as a songwriter. With instantly accessible gems like “New Order” and “Small Cut Sensations” leading the way, Rhedin manages to incorporate world influences within a style that remains generally accessible and never stylistically overbearing. The vocal performances on the album vary in both tone and gender, with Rhedin and others lending a leading role on a variety of songs. “New Order” sees a male-female duet emerge under the wispy undercurrent of a synth pad and guitar progression. A serene opening evolves into a distorted flurry of hectic rhythmic involvement and dynamic guitars, eventually backed by a choir-like sound that penetrates the barrier of sound nicely. “New order, you build a new order,” the vocals repeat, appropriately embracing independence as something of a spiritually empowering entity. “Small Cut Sensations” is a very rewarding track that combines exotically invigorating Japanese strings with a rhythm section that vigorously builds its way to success. Similarly laced female vocals are the lead here, being at their best after an acoustical bridge laces together the intensified string arrangement during the track’s concluding moments. With other highlights including the tinge of post-punk tremolo on “Free”, a shoegaze influence on “Scream Cikada, She’s Home”, and the epic build-up in “You Are the Battle: Tender”, there is not one wasted moment on the diversely impressive Bright White Light.

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Jong Pang – Small Cut Sensations

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Jong Pang – New Order

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Jong Pang – Free

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Tigerspring Records

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Considering that the dates of anniversaries and birthdays vary from person to person, it would not be entirely unrealistic to deem Valentine’s Day as the most universally abundant day for the exchanging of mix tapes. After all, the process of compiling a mix of emotionally suitable tunes for a loved one has nearly caught up to the ranks of flowers and chocolates as being a staple of Valentine’s Day. With this in mind, since there remains a large amount of people today stuck in a state of seemingly perpetual loneliness, I figured it would be more productive to compile a mix tape for those who are not expected to actually receive one. Sad or not, I hope you enjoy it. For the gloomy ones though, it is often appropriate to soothe emotional distress with songs that are easy to relate to, causing topics like unrequited love and tragic rejection to appear frequently throughout this 15-track compilation. From the mid-’60s (The Left Banke, The Delfonics) to 2006 (Grizzly Bear), this collection has no emphasis on a particular style or period of time; the focus is on the mood and lyrical content, with unrequited desires being a prevalent theme. Even though this mix can be enjoyed alone in thematically appropriate form, I recommend to go ahead and find someone of your own liking whose current emotional outlook is similar to yours. It’s simply more fun than sulking alone.

01. Magnetic Fields – My Sentimental Melody (3:09)
02. Archer Prewitt – Go Away (4:54)
03. Grizzly Bear – Knife (5:14)
04. Cousteau – Peculiarly You (5:41)
05. Hall & Oates – Sara Smile (3:10)
06. The Czars – Val (5:11)
07. XTC – Your Dictionary (3:13)
08. Asahi – How Much He Lies (3:13)
09. The Delfonics – Break Your Promise (3:02)
10. The Smiths – I Want the One I Can’t Have (3:14)
11. Ryuichi Sakamoto – Rose (5:11)
12. Matthew Sweet – Hide (4:01)
13. The Left Banke – Walk Away Renee (2:43)
14. Antony & The Johnsons – Fistful of Love (ft. Lou Reed) (5:51)
15. David Sylvian – Forbidden Colours (5:59)

DOWNLOAD ENTIRE COMPILATION>>>
(73.8 MB, .RAR file)

The post A Mix for the Lonely: Valentine’s Day ’08 appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

I am sure many of us over twenty can remember the leather jacket craze. The Fonz was one of the few to kick-start the fad in the late 50s and Springsteen brought it back in the 80s, along with many others. One of the few to seize the leather opportunity was the uncle of the frontman for The Rumble Strips, Charlie Waller. Seeing his musician uncle look so damn stylistic in the jacket gave Waller his first aspirations to become a rock star. “I thought I could look good in a leather jacket one day too,” Waller says without a shrug. Even though the beginning to Waller’s career as songwriter was fueled by superficial tendencies, he eventually moved on to the more realistic aspects when he literally fell in love with the most important aspect: the music. As a child, Waller was in awe of Lou Reed’s capabilities and eventually made it his goal to become a student of good music. Going to record stores daily and often buying albums simply based on the cover alone, Waller found many respectable bands of the era like Adam & the Ants on whim. Growing up in Tavistock, a small market town in Devon, England, all his life, Waller came to the realization that his musical dreams would best be accomplished in a bustling city like London.

After his relocation to London, Waller used his degree in art school to get by as a painter and decorator. Getting a bit wearisome on the idea of having a somewhat typical job, his musical ambitions gave birth yet again when he contacted four friends from his native Tavistock; saxophonist/bassist Tom Gorbutt, keyboardist/trumpeter Henry Clark, and drummer Matthew Wheeler. I imagine having three musically inclined friends, two of which are capable brass players, has its benefits. Over the next year or so, Waller played with two bands. One was with his three friends from Tavistock, a project that they called The Rumble Strips. The other was with his roomate’s band, the up and coming London-based quartet Vincent Vincent and the Villains. Alternating between each band, Waller found difficulty maintaining friendly relations with each of the somewhat rival bands. “Both bands are my best friends and it felt like I was fucking everyone over,” Waller said reflectively. Being pulled to both sides like a rag doll with arms about to be torn off, Waller responded to the pressure by retreating back to his old day job of being a painter/decorator. In an act that nearly came out of fate, the Transgressive label offered The Rumble Strips a record deal and things finally began to look up. The band, who had been begging Waller to come back since his short departure, were pleased when Waller, their chief songwriter, returned with a refreshed attitude.

Things ignited for the band from there. They released their debut single, the wholesome “Motorcycle”, and gained critical acclaim, eventually leading to a support tour with The Young Knives. Following a debut EP on a Island Records, The Rumble Strips have now completed their debut album. Produced by the prominent Tony Hoffer (Beck, Air, The Kooks) when the band recorded in Los Angeles, the title is quite ironic. Girls and Weather is the name; the two things in life that men will never be able to predict. Charlie Waller mans the guitars and vocals, demanding a presence of hollering and distinctive emotion which establishes itself as truly effective through an extremely impressive brass section. While Tom Gorbutt’s saxophone and Henry Clark’s trumpet play a vital role in the hooks and turns that each song takes, each of the four musicians plays a respectable part in the overall summation of a successful song. The opener to the album, “No Soul”, is a collective expression under the two minutes that sums up the band’s greatest capabilities. Opened up by a slithering trumpet and a few strums of an acoustic guitar, Matthew Wheeler’s drums eventually signal the transition to an explosive song complemented by catchy guitar riffs and further brass arrangements, made most noticeable in mid-way through the song in the bridge that differentiates each verse.

“Girls and Boys in Love” is an excellent display of diversity. Abandoning their typical formula of brass and guitar incorporation, Henry Clark’s keyboards now play a vital role with a piano riff catchy enough to bring a grin to the face of those even difficult to please. “Motorcycle” manages to be both melancholic and energetic simultaneously. “The air is nice and clean but my bicycle seat is so lonely,” Waller professes over a short acoustic section of the song, shortly prior to a energetic burst of percussion and brass. “If only this bike was a motorcycle, I wouldn’t be sad any more.” Waller demonstrates his melodic ability at its finest level in songs like “No Soul”, the breakthrough single “Motorcycle”, and the irresistible “Girls and Boys in Love”. Love trumpets? Check out “No Soul”. A fan of sax? “Motorcycle” should be a treat for you. What about keyboards? “Girls and Boys in Love” is a fun one. It is a nice showing, being that there is something for everyone. If The Rumble Strips can express the passion and musicianship demonstrated in these three tracks to the fullest extent on the album, we could be in for another very memorable debut this year.

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The Rumble Strips – No Soul

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The Rumble Strips – Motorcycle

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The Rumble Strips – Girls and Boys in Love

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Official Web Site

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The post Let’s Get Ready to Rumble… Strips appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Lou Reed opened up his classic 1973 album, Berlin, with the lingering words, “In Berlin, by the wall, you were five foot ten inches tall.” A native of New York City, Reed’s lyrics were particularly striking at a time sixteen years prior to the abolishment of the Berlin Wall. Both politically eloquent and emotionally rousing, Reed’s album depicted two troubled youths in a deep state of love, even while forced into the perils of drug addiction, abuse, and suicide with the pressure of the country’s perilous past lingering on their minds. With lyrical intellect adorned with a political and emotional coat, Berlin was one of the first rock albums that interchangeably connected politics with natural human emotion, detailing the often overlooked sociological effects of an individual in the midst of a situation that renders completely uncontrollable. It was also arguably the first commercial album that effectively relayed the personal views of Germany’s past from a New Yorker, as Reed was born in Brooklyn and grew up in Freeport. Now over thirty years later, Berlin has transformed into a thriving city where industry and positivity have regained a new form of power. Much like New York City, it has become the central thriving point of its respected country, both in terms of industrial and artistic production.

Jason Friedman, the lead songwriter for The Boggs, can relate to Reed’s recollection thoroughly, even while Friedman has been placed in a less turbulent contemporary society. Based out of Brooklyn, Friedman relocated to Berlin for artistic intentions both revolved around music and video production after The Boggs’ second album, Stitches. After sketching out the ideas for Forts, the Brooklyn-based group’s third album, Friedman returned to his native New York to hammer out the details and record the final product. With an increased intellectual view of cultural diversity and domestic transition, Friedman appeared set to incorporate both his philosophical and musical learnings into their third album. Seeing the great potential that the first two Boggs albums held, Friedman once again gathered a few familiar figures from some very recently admirable acts, most notably Julian Gross of The Liars and David Lloyd of Cause For Applause. The first two releases from The Boggs were highly symbolic of great detail and dedication, with innovative production being shrouded by a variety of instruments ranging from brass and xylophones to bass and guitar. Despite the diversity and impressive use of range, the general view was that The Boggs were always a mere inch away from fulfilling their potential, with overambitious intentions portraying a generally unorganized collective of oddball pop. While their musical intellect was certainly representable, Friedman and his backing band often shrouded their most memorable hooks through numerous layers, producing what quite frankly was a very messy album in Stitches.

Hoping to correct this criticized form of disorganization, Friedman’s Forts holds a handful of songs that truly capture the intended essence of The Boggs. The self-titled opening track finds the band in form consistent to their first two releases, compiling non-traditional percussion over layers of keys and guitar swipes that sound nearly in the form of a rich tribal dance. “Forts” does indeed hold an infectious chorus that boasts a diverse transition from the initial verse; an aspect that the band previously struggled with on their first two albums. Surprisingly, the next track on Forts, “Remember The Orphans”, explores entirely new territory altogether for the band with vocals that sound oddly like Damon Albarn’s seventieth project, masked under accompanying female shouts that are regularly consistent throughout the album. The vocal approach also applies for the volatile “Arm In Arm”, a track led by a distinctively animated distorted guitar that treads through the track in a consistent manner, with an increase of rapidity signaling an eruptive chorus laced with Friedman’s husky vocals. Imagine such a thing. A contemporary band based in New York and Germany that sounds like a traditionally jumpy mid-90s British experimental pop band. Even so, this eccentric pop song is one of the gems on the often inconsistent Forts, an album that contains many of the same weaknesses that the first two albums possessed despite excitable songs like “Remember The Orphans” and “Arm In Arm”.

The first half of Forts is actually quite good in being the best batch of songs the band has ever written. The dramatic strings touched in “One Year On” provides a nice setting for a new set of vocals that sounds like an unconventional cross between Stephin Merritt and Stuart Stapley. Whether it is easy to adore or dislike the constant etches between Albarn, Merritt, and Stapley, those searching for forms of consistency will not be enamored with Forts. The latter half of the album is filled with dull acoustic attempts like the repetitive “After The Day” and the incoherent jumble that is “Melanie In The White Coat”. It gets no better with “If We Want (We Can)”, sounding like a drunken sorority with access to a furious percussionist. While The Boggs create several interesting innovations and excitable circumstances with tracks in the more coordinated vein of “Bookends” and the structural consistencies of “Remember The Orphans”, it appears that The Boggs’ only form of significant growth has come in the increased patterns of well-synchronized rhythm sections and early Brit-pop comparisons. While their potential continues to glow brightly, it will take quite a bit of newly constructed musical unity and organization to achieve their evident goal of being mentioned in the same sentence with Xiu Xiu, !!!, The Liars, and other groups in the upper tier of enjoyably unconventional pop music.

5.8/10

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The Boggs – Remember The Orphans

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The Boggs – Forts

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The Boggs – One Year On

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Official Web Site

BUY

The post REVIEW: The Boggs – Forts appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

I know, I know. Most of you have already seen “Hedwig and the Angry Inch“, the offbeat musical/comedy/drama/satirical movie released in 2001 by the talented director/actor/singer John Cameron Mitchell, based on the cult off-Broadway play that began running three years prior. Even though I’m extremely late to the party, I saw the film for the first time on Saturday night. I’m not going to spoil the plot for those who have yet to see it, though hopefully this post can shed some light on the movie for those who were formerly unfamiliar with it. The story follows Hedwig Robinson, a (former) man from war ravaged East Berlin who falls in love with “sugar daddy”, a rather masculine American GI named Luther with a large appetite for candy and “fine” individuals. To pass as a woman, Hedwig undergoes a flawed “snip-snip” procedure that leaves his gender indistinguishable, being where the “Angry Inch” derives from. After the five inch deduction, Hedwig marries Luther with an intent to legally relocate to the prosperous United States. Once there, he discovers that the marriage is not particularly durable, with Luther leaving him for a new boy toy on their one-year anniversary, ironically being on the same day that the Berlin Wall is torn down. Alone in a new country, Hedwig turns to his childhood passion for comfort: Western rock music. Recalling his own influences of Bowie and Lou Reed, he recruits a band and befriends a young and confused teenager, who later steals Hedwig’s songs and becomes a rock star. Throughout the film, Hedwig gives a description of his life through song and script at a variety of venues, with never a dull moment in sight. I won’t give any more of the plot away, though I will tell you that emotions of jealousy, rage, confusion, love, and good old rock ‘n roll are repeating themes throughout this brilliant “rock opera”, as many prefer to call it. The multiple plots are also very interpretable, causing a tune for great discussions. Mitchell plays Hedwig, using his own vocals to sing the highly enjoyable songs, doing an outstanding job on the acting, directing, and vocal front. I suppose the cult following for this movie speaks for itself, with hardcore fans referring to themselves as “hedheads”. The fact that artists such as Yoko Ono, Yo La Tengo, Rufus Wainwright, Robyn Hitchcock, Sleater-Kinney, and Frank Black covered songs from the movie speaks volumes about the quality of songwriting in the film.

Since this a music blog, I figure it’s customary to focus on the movie’s most enjoyable aspect: the music itself. After watching the film, I immediately looked into the soundtrack and grabbed the songs. The soundtrack was written by the extremely gifted Stephen Trask, who also starred in the film as Skszp, the guitarist of Hedwig’s band. Most of the backing band in the movie was actually played by Trask’s band, Cheater. With relevance to Hedwig’s early childhood listening to “the American greats” on a radio in his oven (yeah, they had a small apartment), much of Trask’s music for the film is focused on Bowie-esque glam rock, with a countless number of theatrical hooks blending with the familiar enigmatic lead guitar of Bob Mould, the boisterous and stylistically glam vocals of Mitchell, and the delightful high-pitched backing vocal accompaniment from Miriam Shor, who also lends a delightful performance in the film as Hedwig’s overshadowed backing singer and occasional lover, Yitzhak (another opposite gender role, as she is a woman playing a man). Trask’s soundtrack is absolutely brilliant with gems such as “The Origin of Love” and “Midnight Radio”. My favorite track is “The Origin of Love”, though I would suggest watching the film before listening to it, as it is accompanied by an excellent story-sequenced animation done by Emily Hubley. Mitchell thought of the the concept for the song and Trask created the music, with the introduction being a melodic narrative of sorts explaining an amusing fictional account of why people are attracted to one another, stressing what “soul mates” really are. I could explain the interpretation for this one as well, though it’s easy enough to figure out and I am really urging you to watch the film. I don’t feel like spoiling everything. “Wig in a Box” is arguably the most popular song on the soundtrack, showcasing Mitchell’s theatrical presence to a full extent. “I put on some makeup, turn on the eight-track, I’m pullin’ the wig down from the shelf,” Mitchell bursts out over an escalating rush of guitars and keys, “suddenly I’m Miss Farrah Fawcett from TV, until I wake up and I turn back to myself.” The song is the ultimate idealogy of self-acceptance, another consistent topic that the movie deals with emotionally vividly. “Midnight Radio” appears to be a pure tribute to Bowie, as it’s also the finale to the movie. It contains one of those choruses that will have you on your feet, just begging for more. Mitchell’s range is quite impressive here and he pulls off the Bowie influence quite well, with Shor’s backing vocals peeking through at the perfect moments. “Wicked Little Town” is actually sung by Stephen Trask himself, who handles the vocal performances of Michael Pitt’s rock star character, Tommy Gnosis. Gnosis plays a pivotal role throughout the movie, with Hedwig in a confusing state of mind trying to decide whether he loves Gnosis or absolutely despises him for stealing his own songs. Either way, it’s clear that Hedwig considers Gnosis to be his own “soul mate”. With the exceptions of a Takashi Miike or Tarantino movie, “Hedwig and the Angry Inch” may be the most bizarre movie I’ve ever seen. Even so, it’s also one of the most brilliant.

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Hedwig and the Angry Inch – The Origin of Love

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Hedwig and the Angry Inch – Wig in a Box

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Hedwig and the Angry Inch – Midnight Radio

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Hedwig and the Angry Inch – Wicked Little Town (Tommy Gnosis Version)

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Official Web Site

BUY: Soundtrack / Movie

The post I Admit, I’m Late to Hedwig’s Party appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.