by Mike Mineo

Although they have only begun to break out the past two years, I already have fond memories of The Morning Benders. When I posted about them back in April 2006, it was only a month after the site formed and I was eager to cover something fresh and worthwhile. At the time, this site had little direction and my focus was sporadic, so anything to attain readers was desired. One thing was clear though, and that was the undeniable potential of The Morning Benders. Their debut EP, Loose Change, is definitely one of the earliest memories I have of sharing great, new music to more than a room full of close friends. There was nothing to dislike about the young quartet from Berkeley, California living up to their flexible namesake in their surf-inspired pop and rock songs. ’60s pop collided with an early Strokes sound to make their emergence in 2006 timely, though it was not nearly enough material (in quantitative standards) to get excited over. They teased audiences some more with two EPs before their debut album, Talking Through Tin Cans, was released in 2008. The tracks were as stellar as the EPs, but it felt more like two or three EPs glued together rather than a full album. With their follow-up Big Echo, they have done a remarkable job of creating a satisfying full-length that marvels with cohesive songs and production.

Like any band whose first five years are pinnacled by a string of EPs, The Morning Benders prepared Big Echo with plenty of expectations surrounding them. Previous releases found them producing a very amiable style of lo-fi pop, the hooks appearing prominently despite a lack of resources. As five years have past, The Morning Benders have been searching for a sound that caters to their natural indie-pop sentiments without limiting themselves to a DIY schtick. On Big Echo, one finds a band comfortable for the first time. Sure, the majestic use of strings and vocal accompaniments help and are new for the group, but what shines most brightly is the presentation. The production is exceptionally suitable, sounding like sparkling indie-pop performed in a concert hall. This growth can be attributed to producer Chris Taylor, who is already quite established at the age of 28 with Grizzly Bear, Dirty Projectors, and TV on the Radio to his name. The Grizzly Bear multi-instrumentalist and Chris Chu recorded the album together in San Francisco. Chu’s songwriting flourishes with this clean presentation, particularly on gems like “Promises”. This effort in particular is the best thing I have ever heard from The Morning Benders, not to mention 2010 in general. There is still that anthemic, Strokes-like indie-rock vibe going on in the chorus, but the structural variation elsewhere is more reminiscent of Weezer’s Rivers Cuomo when he actually gave a shit (1994-2001).

Weezer and Neutral Milk Hotel are certainly obvious influences, but unlike The Morning Benders’ previous releases there is no feeling of replication on Big Echo. They have a nice arsenal of instrumentation that makes for some great moments, once again courtesy of new production advantages. The high-pitched marimba feel on “Cold War (Nice Clean Fight)” that slowly evolves into a addictive, folk-based sing-along is indicative of this, as is the subdued wave of organs on “Pleasure Sighs”. The vocals here sit somewhere between Neil Young and Wayne Coyne, adjusted accordingly since the subsequent “Hand Me Downs” is more akin to The Walkmen’s Hamilton Leithauser and the respective group’s excellently unpredictable rhythm section. The Walkmen find themselves to be an apt comparison as well, mainly because they are expanding upon the boundaries of traditional indie-rock led by guitars and keys without borrowing too heavily from the past. The guitars on “Pleasure Sighs” resound with heavy doses of reverb and intricate progressions, which under the slight touch of organs creates for a serene feel that fits perfectly in the middle of Big Echo. Away from the guitar-driven pop that marked most of their early releases, the ambition shown here alone marks The Morning Benders’ revelation here.

The first half of Big Echo, particularly the succession from “Promises” to “Pleasure Sighs”, is breathtaking. The last four tracks are more spotty in their consistency, but still have their shining moments. “All Day Day Light” is not amusing enough with its acoustic arpeggios and steady drumbeat to make it memorable, and the vocals sound like too much of a stretch in their twangy delivery. This song in particular is one of the only instances of a lazy chorus though, for most tracks introduce a plethora of variations that unexpectedly sneak into your head. “Promises” is probably the best example of this, though the epic demeanor of “Pleasure Sighs” and the beautiful, post-rock frailty of “Stitches” come close. The heavy-charged and vivid emotions of the latter remind me strongly once again of The Walkmen, a band for which comparisons are rare. A minor miscue like “All Day Day Light” and the somewhat extraneous “Sleeping In” aside, Big Echo is a tremendous step forward for a band whose potential has finally caught up to them. Rough Trade Records really struck gold with this one. Thanks to the imminent success of Big Echo, The Morning Benders are bound to be one of the most popular indie-rock acts of 2010.

8.5/10.0

RIYL: The Walkmen, Neutral Milk Hotel, Ra Ra Riot, Dr. Dog, Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, The Broken West, Bishop Allen, Voxtrot, Grizzly Bear, Sunset Rubdown, Neil Young, The Flaming Lips,

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The Morning Benders – Promises

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The Morning Benders – Pleasure Sighs

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The Morning Benders – Stitches

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The post The Morning Benders – Big Echo (2010) 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.

Stereotypes involving the carefree indulgences of a Californian summer have been circulating since surf-rock originated in the ’60s. Its inception was largely brought on by the development and popularization of the spring reverb, which at the time was said to mimic the sound of waves along one of these sunny beaches. Mickey Deora described surf music nicely by calling it “a syndrome — a cluster of symptoms, no single one of which is necessary or sufficient for the diagnosis.” The main symptoms include a limited instrumental arsenal, prominent use of either reverb or the guitar’s vibrato, and a short song length that appealed to the abundantly used metaphor of catching a wave. Similar to that accomplishment, the conventional surf-rock tracks were short, infectious, and brimming with components like reverb or picked staccatos. This action-audio analogy may sound pretentious by today’s independent standards, but back then it was simply incorporating a popular form of youthful expression into another popular form of youthful expression. Music and surfing were unveiled by these groups to have more in common than one would think.

Before even listening to them, it is readily apparent that Surfer Blood are a bit enamored with the style and period of surf music. Their name alone possesses an obvious reference, while expositions of personality on their MySpace site flash glimpses of ocean-themed tracks, references to fun things like weed and Condoleeza Rice, and a bunch of promo photos that are either in front of the ocean or expressing serene artistic emission. This might sound normal enough if you are from West Palm Beach like Surfer Blood, but many fans of indie-rock may find themselves weary of such beach-bound associations. The differences between contemporary indie-rock and surf-rock are prominent for the most part, and to immediately align Surfer Blood with The Beach Boys or Dick Dale would be a premature impulse that would unfortunately result in missing out on a great band for those not attracted whatsoever to these past groups. Surfer Blood do not abide by Deora’s aforementioned symptoms of surf-rock on a strict basis, but by possessing a similar type of musical ideology to their surf-rock predecessors Surfer Rock have crafted an ingenious debut that reaps from an old-fashioned sort of intensity that only those powerful two-minute surf-rock epics from the ’60s brought to the table.

Although they serve exemplary of an artist influenced by an ideology instead of a precise audible style, Surfer Blood’s own unique style is something that should delight fans of modern indie-rock. The charming upbeat pop of The Shins is certainly present, as are groups like The Explorers Club that cling on to ’60s pop and surf-rock through overlapping vocal harmonies, picked tremolos, and lushly serene orchestration. Surfer Blood are a bit more modernistic than a group like The Explorers Club though, evidenced strongly by the variation in guitar tones and levels of distortion in addition to the lead vocals of John Paul Pitts. Amiable and accessible, Pitts always maintains a gleeful and whimsical croon that simultaneously recalls the sparkle-and-spit of James Mercer and versatility of Brian Wilson by aligning his vocal melodies with corresponding guitars. Like in surf-rock and power-pop alike, guitars are the driving force throughout Surfer Blood’s debut album, Astrocoast. These are precisely the two influences at work most consistently too; surf-rock is abundant through its production techniques while the hooks and song structures themselves are more reflective of power-pop.

Apart from “Slow Jabroni” and “Anchorage”, Astrocoast consists of tracks following below the four-minute mark but still achieving incredible growth and innovation during that time, beckoning a similar feeling to that of instrumental surf-rock when it emerged in the early ’60s. It helps that accessible efforts like “Floating Vibes” takes any related stereotypes by the throat to turn it into a gem with precise revision, even if the track’s simplicity and imminent radio time means it is not as durably enjoyable as the rest of this fantastic album. These aforementioned surf-rock instrumentals are even recalled on Astrocoast to a slight degree, which finds its own reworking on “Neighbor Riffs”. Perhaps it resembles post-punk or art-rock due to its selected melodic and tonal choices, but the structure is inherently that of how surf-rock instrumentals were. An initial bass line kicks off the effort and does not subside for the entire duration, instead serving as the source of opportunity for a multitude of dexterous guitar progressions that benefit from aspects like tremolo, reverb, and staccato that undoubtedly resemble conceptual surf-rock. This is a quite a departure from most of the efforts on Astrocoast, but it sits excellently in the middle of Astrocoast as the bridge between indie-pop-minded sensibilities and voraciously raw surf-rock.

“Twin Peaks” is also nicely demonstrative of this medium, seeing a verse that alternates between aptly implemented chirps of guitar and bursts of distortion before going into an exotic infusion of woodwinds and guitars backed by festival-like ambiance. The fact that Surfer Blood are able to involve both of these conceptual ideas within mere seconds of one another is very impressive and it is easily one of Astrocoast‘s biggest strengths. “Fast Jabroni” recalls the fuzzy dance-punk of the late ’80s with its backing synths and excellent bridge, which uses cleverly engineered snippets of guitar arpeggios and strings to piece together a joyous chorus that exposes Pitts’ vocals in the best light possible. The guitar solo toward the end of the track brings us back to the days of quality ’90s power-pop, before the time Weezer transformed from indie-rock heroes to monetarily desperate cash cows taking advantage of their own status to release pathetic music and manipulate dedicated fans in the process. The prominent synths along with Pitts’ chirpy vocals would have allowed this to site well on Donnie Darko‘s soundtrack, where influences like Echo & the Bunnymen and The Church showcased the precursor to an effort like this in the background of rebellious and misdirected youth. There is a sort of concurrent wisdom and youthfulness found in Surfer Blood’s work and it serves as a rare factor that will undoubtedly separate them from the masses.

Other highlights on Astrocoast include “Harmonix”, easily the best psychedelic-geared effort on the album with its droning guitars and reverbed harmonics (as one would assume by the name), and “Take It Easy”, which brilliantly infuses fiddles and plucked staccatos to introduce an ingeniously calming chorus that summarizes this group’s feel-good vibes in more ways than one. There are so many sheer successes on Astrocoast that it is hard not to chalk it down as one of 2009’s best debuts. Their fusion of surf-rock and indie-rock has been attempted recently by groups like The Drums and Holiday Shores with some degree of success, but Surfer Blood appear to be doing it the best so far.

RIYL: The Drums, The Explorers Club, Holiday Shores, Girls, Fool’s Gold, Little Joy, Weezer, The School

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Surfer Blood – Take It Easy

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Surfer Blood – Harmonix

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Surfer Blood – Fast Jabroni

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Kanine Records

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

Continuing with the recent theme of atmospheric pop music that Washed Out and Neon Indian showed us, Her Vanished Grace deliver a similar sort of layer-based sereneness that differentiates itself through dark and moody Brit-rock instead of chilly electronica or sample-based experimentation. By most accounts, Blue is their tenth release of new material since their debut, State of Grace, was released in 1991 with a promising take on atmospheric pop that revolved around assorted guitars and keyboards. Her Vanished Grace’s actual number of releases is somewhat debated due to their cult-like following, which has manufactured many assorted mixtapes and compilations in itself. If one thing is for certain though, it is the rare capability that this band has to remain interesting as time goes on. As their tenth release Blue shows us, it does not take a precise discography for a listener to witness Her Vanished Grace’s maturation. Their initial career reaped from interesting use of post-rock, noise, and shoegaze, wearing influences like Sonic Youth and My Bloody Valentine on their sleeves despite noticeably lo-fi production that prevented the New York-based group from reaching widespread recognition. Their work still touts those prestigious influences today, but now they infuse more of their originality in an effort to differentiate themselves. So far, so good.

The most recent incarnation of Her Vanished Grace commenced in 2000 with Colors Vols. 1 & 2, when the founding husband-and-wife duo of Charles and Nance Nieland disbanded the initial workings of Her Vanished Grace and combined forces with bassist Maria Theodosiadou and drummer Brian Haarer to form a more full-bodied version of their initial group. A vigorously talented rhythm section and higher-budget recording methods in addition to the songwriter-guitarist husband-and-wife duo paved way for their most successful period in the early to mid 2000s. Five new albums were released after Colors, the most recent being the excellent Blue. Although their success to date has been gaining momentum for several years now, Blue may be the knockout punch that propels this band from obscurity to unanimous acclaim. Charles and Nance met at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art about two decades ago, and ever since then they have been working together to pursue their dream of musical success. Time is only relative for artists, and many may consider success occurring after attributed experience is better than success prior to experience, for it is a factor that is a monumental factor in determining an artist’s durability.

Durability is synonymous with Her Vanished Grace, at least in the sense that longtime fans have yet to be disappointed with the four-piece. Billy Loose has since replaced Haarer on drums but the original duo along with Theodosiadou are still there along with their ambitions. In terms of stylistic exploration, Blue has little to offer in terms of breakthroughs, but their blending of familiar styles like power-pop and shoegaze into one beautiful audible landscape make up for any lack of stylistic innovation. To enjoy Blue one must push aside any stylistic biases regarding shoegaze, as common stylistic elements like reverb and gushing guitars are abundant but not utilized in a conventional manner. Since the melodies are crisp and polished in the form of modern indie-pop instead, the regressing influence is not exposed in the way one might expect. The excellent self-titled track instead reaps from an infectious blend of power-pop and post-punk, being grounded in production techniques involving heavy doses of reverb, thick tremolos, and heightening guitar arpeggios that clash with a bustling rhythm section to consume the listener through both pop-minded appeal and atmospheric vision. Like predecessors in the vein of Sonic Youth and Ride, Blue marks Her Vanished Grace’s true emerging period as a group putting their ambition to accessible use without sacrificing the ingenuity that got them there in the first place.

Although both Charles and Nance contribute vocal duties on Blue, Charles is primarily used due to the way his brooding vocals accentuate the retrospective and forlorn aroma of post-punk and shoegaze most commonly attributed to Her Vanished Grace. The band employs their differing vocal styles well, allowing each specialty to reap from their eclectic use of instrumentation. For instance, Charles is lead on the empowering “Blue”, where a brilliantly moody chorus provides awe-inspiring embrace in washed layers of guitars and synth pads. Its strength is dependent on darkening mood and evolving versatility, growing from an emotive guitar-driven piece to one guided by distinctive layers of sound that accompany a versatile croon that goes from low-pitched to an ethereal chant of sorts with heightened pitch. Charles’ presence is felt in the album’s darker tracks, leaving room for Nance to take control of more lighthearted efforts like “Rush”. With a better grasp of bubblegum-pop or lighthearted indie-pop in the vein of Metric or Mates of State, “Rush” works by using a bunch of repeating guitar chords before exerting itself into a chorus that reminds me of 90s Brit-rock in the vein of PJ Harvey, Black Box Recorder, or even less absurd Morrissey efforts like “Reader Meets Author” with its swirling sort of guitar-based simplicity. Although it strains itself from too much repetition, it is a nice reliever from Her Vanished Grace’s more emotionally complex efforts like “Blue and “Remember”, as enjoyable as they are.

The latter is narrative in approach as Charles and Nance participate in a duet, again retracing their steps to the amiable type of alt-rock that was abundant throughout the ’90s. With Charles’ vocals at times sounding like a cross between Gruff Rhys, Morrissey, and Hayden Thorpe (Wild Beasts), his versatile approach does wonders to this respective style along with the band’s tendency for anthemic hooks. Nance’s contributions contrast somewhat in terms of style, but the parallel creates very refreshing circumstances that are simply a testament to the group’s valuable chemistry. The diversity between efforts like “Blue” and “Rush” summarize the album’s success quite well, as Blue serves as an enjoyable release that relies on the band’s gathered experience in the spectrums of pop music and layer-based atmospherics. Without the experience of nearly two decades I would be surprised if Blue would have even been possible, but Her Vanished Grace have undoubtedly reached an artistic peak by doing so without sacrificing what got them here in the first place.

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Her Vanished Grace – Blue

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Her Vanished Grace – Slip Away

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Her Vanished Grace – Remember

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The post Her Vanished Grace appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

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

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

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

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

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

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The Library – Tomorrow Is Better

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The Library – Wish I Knew

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The Library – The Life and Times of Rosa Lee

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

It would be nice if all New Yorkers were given next week off for the sake of new music. CMJ’s Music Marathon is already intimidating enough with hundreds of artists on the roster, so with classes and work getting in the way it would be pretty nice to devote a whole week to new music instead. This nutty but alluring proposal aside, many of the groups playing next week are getting their first big break, a treat for audiences to be involved in. As a result, those attending will likely be more receptive to the potential and effort the artist may display or put forth, rather than instantaneous quality. Yesterday’s feature of Tim Williams was exemplary of an artist who put his first taste of CMJ exposure five years earlier to good use. Although he has yet to become a brand name, watching an artist live that you hypothesize to be prominent in a few years provides a unique feeling that is only rivaled by the discovery of a release produced under similarly deprived circumstances. Artistry is one of the few aspects of humanity that permits hunger and desire as beneficial forces and, although we never want well-deserved artists to go by unnoticed, we assume an unspoken role as listeners to spread the word about quality music. This site itself is a representation of that attempt, and comprehensively accessible festivals like CMJ are able to provide the wonderful feeling I get after writing about a band that I am positive will be adored by most that pass by this site.

Another great thing about CMJ is the amount of related e-mails I get for it. Since the majority of these groups are simply looking for exposure, the amount of invitations I receive is a nice source of entertainment for awhile, even if it makes me somewhat weary. Not so much because it is flattering, but instead due to my own time constraints and the many artists that have the potential to be breathtakingly original (if they have not reached that point already). To miss out on one because my inbox is full would be quite unfortunate. I have no clue what to attend during CMJ on the days I actually am available, so going through and listening to the artists beforehand is really the only form of judgment I and others can go by. This is what I do regardless though, so stumbling across a group like Midnight Juggernauts thanks to a CMJ invitation demonstrates how live appearances have both a direct and indirect effect on an artist’s exposure. Even if I were to not attend due to disinterest or personal conflicts, the mere fact they are appearing in the festival led me to their latest release, an EP by the name of This New Technology. Judging by the concise but impressive showing of the EP, perhaps I should clear my schedule for one of their CMJ shows.

Quite simply, Midnight Juggernauts are worth it. The title of their EP is good indication of their advanced stylistic trends, simultaneously emitting a fury of dance-rock in the vein of Cut Copy and hazy ’90s alt-rock reminiscent of early Suede or Manic Street Preachers, when drugs were influencing a sound influenced by both psychedelia and glam. Drug use is hardly advised but in some artistic instances it can serve as a beneficial supplement, shown throughout the recording of Suede’s Dog Man Star or even The Beatles’ transitional stage into works later classified as psychedelia. You can find a similar sort of revised psychedelia in the work of Midnight Juggernauts, even though they remain more sample-friendly and uptempo than many of these predecessors. Their pulsating bass work is more reminiscent of layered synths than anything, but the interesting decision to implement organs, varied guitar work, and a vocal delivery that would fit more aptly in the world of arena-rock make Midnight Juggernaut something of an unconventional success. Their debut, Dystopia, showed their blend of synth-pop and alt-rock for the first time in 2007, serving as one of the few electro-rock debuts that were polished full of confidence. The Tough Alliance and Cut Copy come to mind for this decade, but since the days of Massive Attack and Depeche Mode electronic-rock has dwindled into a more predictable entity that allows considerably more room for error.

Midnight Juggernauts defy such limitations on This New Technology, starting with the gorgeous self-titled cut. “This New Technology” already made a big splash in the blogosphere in late September, but this should do well in tiding you over until the EP’s release in November. A jaw-dropping effort, its integration of bubbly synths into chirps of brass and reverbed guitar licks may sound on paper like another typical indie-rock effort that mocks Cut Copy, but the advances this trio has made here makes for more than that. On Dystopia the group were often criticized for making their song structures too predictable, with verses often relying on vocals and choruses using more melodic forces of instrumentation. “This New Technologhy” rides on similar utilization of bass as the debut, but the interaction between guitars and organs here is what establishes it as a uniquely phenomenal effort. The vocals are also noticeably more empowering than on the debut, and the group’s newly acquired experience with structural alteration truly shows here as it makes the seamless transition between punchy dance-rock and hazy psychedelia. “Fantastic Valleys” is strictly instrumental but goes far in showing the listener even more stylistic growth, as the percussive intricacy and avant-garde keyboard work are new improvements for the trio. I am not quite sure whether it would sound more appropriate for the Goonies soundtrack or a film set in 2500, but those keys sure bring out feelings of both elusiveness and futurism in their unpredictable placement and synthetic tone. Midnight Juggernauts have made obvious improvements that should drive plenty of hype in anticipation for their forthcoming full-length album, set to be released sometime in early 2010. At the very least, they made me and others want to clear their busy schedules for a few CMJ appearances.

RIYL: Cut Copy, Manic Street Preachers, Suede, Giorgio Moroder, Scissor Sisters, Air, The Rapture

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Midnight Juggernauts – This New Technology

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Midnight Juggernauts – Fantastic Valleys

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Midnight Juggernauts – This New Technology (Emperor Machine Remix)

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On the heels of next week’s CMJ festival in NYC, Tim Williams is exemplary of the local favorites you are bound to find there. The Brooklyn-based songwriter caught one of his first breaks at CMJ in 2004, shortly after his debut Tales of Digression, and has been riding the wave ever since. Employing a very formidable style of indie-pop, Williams’ mixture of slick guitar riffs, inventive chorus-based hooks, and ardent vocals with the occasional yelps and grunts should cater to fans of Phoenix, Ben Kweller, Danielson, and Modest Mouse. His sound has a very contemporary feel to it, due in part to the continuous sense of capriciousness that his caressing vocals and versatile guitar work collaborate to produce. As a result, Williams has always been one or two hits away from holding a similar status as these major players. He has always enjoyed little more than local success though due to his past two album’s lack of exposure and focus. Their primary gratification was the demonstration of potential rather than fully embodied talent. The songs on Tales of Digression and its 2007 follow-up, When Work Is Done, sometimes appeared rough around the edges or devoid of focus, but what they did have was an imaginative premise with expertly integrated hooks. Cohesiveness was simply the final ingredient that Williams was missing to formulate his success.

Williams’ third album, Careful Love, continues the artistic maturity that its predecessor, When Work Is Done, showed off so impressively. It is not that Williams is particularly groundbreaking or stylistically inventive; his style of indie-pop should sound familiar to anyone with an ear or two. Instead, it is what he makes of it that is so worthwhile. Listening to snippets of any given track probably will not convince anyone of his artistic merits, but what a full listen of Careful Love exposes is a sensibility that is rare amongst most contemporary pop songwriters. There is a sense of virtuosity here, which in itself is a commodity since the respective genre is one where playing it safe is often advised. Williams does a little bit of both on Careful Love, mixing imminent college-radio favorites like “I Hit Another Wall” and “Oceans” with more avant-garde efforts (at least for the realm of indie-pop) that explore varying tempos, deliveries, and styles ranging from the dab of funk in “Ozone Street” to the electro-industrial influence of the rhythmically inclined “Right All Along”. When these are supplemented every other track or so that instead contain breezy, carefree indie-pop that requires little attentiveness to enjoy, it finds a nice middle ground between overly accessible indie-pop and intimidating avant-garde.

That Careful Love falls into neither category as a cumulative effort is a feat that his previous two albums did not accomplish, though When Work Is Done came close to doing so. Williams wrote this most recent effort after he successfully underwent open-heart surgery in May 2008, wasting no time after getting out of the hospital in writing tracks that packed more sincerity and expansiveness than before. One of the reasons for this expansiveness was the addition of a full band, which make their appearance on Careful Love in fantastic form. Where previous efforts would find Williams strumming his acoustic guitar with little to no accompaniment, the heightened sense of collaboration on Careful Love also attributes to the stylistic ambitiousness that the release portrays. “Stilts” is another nice example of Williams’ inventive indie-rock, utilizing the sounds of a sliding electric guitar and reflective arpeggio as Williams . This particular vocal technique is done throughout the album, with yelps or whoo-hoos making apt appearances on entertaining choruses that also include “Right All Along”, the orchestral dramatics of “I Want to Die in California”, and “Oceans”. The latter is so serene that it almost becomes reminiscent of Coldplay with its melancholic keys or Little Joy with its bright guitar chords. The title implies relaxation and the composition strongly enforces that carefree ideology with a brisk melody and flourishes of tropical bliss.

Another interesting cut on the album includes “I Want to Die in California”, a genuinely touching closer that reminds me of David Vandervelde’s fantastic debut, The Moonstation House Band. In that album he juggled grandiose orchestral-pop with the likes of indie-rock and glam-rock, resulting in something both nostalgic and groundbreaking. This effort is quite similar, finding Williams converting his classically soothing indie-pop croon to one with a western-ish twang. It feels particularly old-fashioned with its natural pianos and strings on an album that is primarily led by guitars and electronic tweaking, but that is also part of its allure. He finds himself singing in the vein of Dennis Wilson, who was able to turn the simplest pop songs into awe-inspiring achievements of emotion with his vocal and songwriting talents. A songwriter like that is perfectly justifiable for comparison, as Careful Love shows an artist who is just beginning to recognize his own emotive skills. Williams’ songs have resulted in an album that will be looked back on as the commencement of Williams’ most prominent growth as a songwriter. When he takes the stage at CMJ this year, audiences that saw him five years earlier will likely drop their jaws at this guy’s improvement. He is still showing heaps of potential, but he has durable quality and consistency to back it up now.

RIYL: Phoenix, Ben Kweller, Danielson, David Vandervelde, Modest Mouse, Dennis Wilson

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Tim Williams – Ozone Street

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Tim Williams – I Want to Die in California

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Tim Williams – Right All Along

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The post Tim Williams’ Careful Love appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

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

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

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

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

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The Yes Pleases – From Whence It Came

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The Yes Pleases – 70%

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

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

Even though September brings some of the greatest weather of the year, there is always reason to students to dread its arrival. It is not so much the concept of classes, but rather the obligations that arise from them. I despise having irrelevant topics forced down my throat and ordered to write a generic paper on it, but in the world of journalism I suppose it is something that we all become accustomed to. This year should be better than last though, especially because I transferred to a different university. DC did not treat me particularly well, so it is nice to be in a city that is both familiar and fulfilling to me. Manhattan has treated me very well so far, even if I know absolutely no one here at the moment. Still, I look forward to meeting a bunch of people and taking advantage of my location in Chelsea. I thought I would cover a substantial amount of shows and events in DC, but the city’s insufficient arts scene led that nowhere. Now I have no excuse, so expect plenty of related content from the city that never sleeps.

As for this month’s compilation, August encompassed a variety of different styles. The Wiyos and Kill It Kid both incorporated a Piedmont blues influence that clashed with modern rock and folk to create a uniquely memorable impression, while The XX have gained tons of buzz since I wrote about them in the first week of August. Popularity and critical acclaim seemed imminent for them at the time, and I was merely within the first wave of press that lauded them for their excellent debut. Volcano Choir concluded the month with one of the more satisfying releases of the year thus far. It may not contain the most accessible tracks of the month, but their mixture of minimalism and folk provided listeners with a sound that was arguably incomparable to anything new they heard within the past few years. Enjoy the compilation and best of luck to any new students entering another year full of deadlines, essays, and occasional fun.

01. The XX – Basic Space (post)
02. Volcano Choir – Island, IS (post)
03. Holiday Shores – Edge of Our Lives (post)
04. Kill It Kid – Burst Its Banks (post)
05. Reigning Sound – Debris (post)
06. The XX – Crystalised (post)
07. The Wiyos – Promenade (post)
08. Dan Mangan – Robots (post)
09. Volcano Choir – And Gather (post)
10. Kill It Kid – Send Me an Angel Down (post)

DOWNLOAD ENTIRE COMPILATION>>> (39.3 MB, .RAR)

The post Obscure Sound: Best of August 2009 appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

One of Kill It Kid’s more noticeable trends is their ability to gracefully develop coarse melodies into sprawling emotional epics, as much in their vocal performances as their fury of instrumentation. Turpin and Steph Ward, a pianist and fellow vocalist, create some of the greatest vocal interplays you are bound to hear this year. The five-piece took their name from Blind Willie McTell, a Piedmont blues legend, and Turpin’s vocals pack a similar sense of rawly invigorated passion that is widely associated with the gritty blues-rock of today that is clearly influenced by the bare styles of blues in the past. Ward complements Turpin’s coarsely powerful vocals well, opting to contrast his vocals with a simultaneously angelic and rapturous croon. In the midst of their most powerful duets, it almost sounds like a clash between good and evil. Both vocalists are damn good here though in a qualitative sense though, as if the highly impressive mixture of strings, guitars, and furious percussion was not enough. The group’s blues leanings may lead some to assume they are from the States, but like Bruce Peninsula they show that blues does not have influence strictly on American artists. Kill It Kid hail from the UK, the members growing up around the areas of Bristol and Bath and meeting at the latter’s Bath Spa University. With influences both foreign and native, they have released an album that should amass them a large fanbase with an expansive array of excellent songs that showcase their musicianship, songwriting, and ingenuity in masterful form.

Now that Kill It Kid are signed to one of the UK’s most consistent labels in One Little Indian, success seems imminent. They released their debut single, “Send Me an Angel Down”, in May and have been generating hype ever since. Sporting a graceful arrangement of strings by the talented Richard Jones, “Send Me an Angel Down” was a pretty interesting choice for a single when one considers its depth and structural ingenuity for a debut single. But this is the stuff I love to see out of a young band, taking a risk and choosing to showcase the best representation of their songwriting over one that is potentially the most radio-friendly. This marvelous track grows from a sullen Turpin croon and a soft string accompaniment into one roaring with guitars and percussion, erupting shortly after Ward makes her subtle but important vocal appearance. How the strings gradually go from leading fiddle to collaborating with the guitars and rhythm section is a marvel to witness, as is how both the vocal deliveries of Turpin and Ward tend to variate as the track progresses with youthful glee. It shows that this is a band not afraid to take innovative steps in unveiling their most sincere and forbidden emotions. For a debut album, it is something rare and extraordinary.

For a sound so distinctive and fulfilling, Kill It Kid could have easily provided little diversity in their songwriting and still have resulted in an enjoyable album. But for a group with their apparent ambition, these are inaccurate expectations. “Private Idaho” is one of the few moments where Ward stars with her lead vocals, proving herself to be just as effective as Turpin in the right circumstances. She obviously does not fit as well in the bluesier arrangements, but a nice country-folk number like “Private Idaho” or the dance-room country shuffle of “My Lips Won’t Be Kept Clean” show Ward at her best. The latter is an enthusiastic and fun track, which contrasts some of the album’s strongest material. “Burst Its Banks” plays extraordinarily with the contrast between anthemic string ballads and high-powered guitar anthems, often transitioning unexpectedly but in a way that is unconventionally cohesive. The effort works with extreme precision, specifically the key-aided chorus where both Turpin and Ward relay one of the album’s best moments over a series of twinkling keys and brilliant strings. The string solo that proceeds that is also a spectacle, a technique echoed in the equally powerful “Ivy and Oak”. With its consistency and wondrous array of great moments, Kill It Kid is easily one of the most memorable debuts of 2009 for me. Any fans of folk, blues, or Americana should be in bliss with this album; its confidence and vision is extremely rare for a band of Kill It Kid’s youth.

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Kill It Kid – Burst Its Banks

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Kill It Kid – Send Me an Angel Down

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Kill It Kid – Private Idaho

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