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For many, Outside Lands is the premiere music festival for the West Coast. Numerous Coachella comparisons are warranted; headliners like Arcade Fire, Phish, and Muse mixed well with an assortment of independent acts, many on the verge of breaking out after a hot year of exposure. A handful of them – Lord Huron, Tamaryn, and Major Lazer – should be familiar with OS readers, all touting a following that has been growing rapidly. Outside Lands’ lineup was an excellent representation of old favorites, emerging stars, and unknowns with a boatload of potential. For every big name like Arctic Monkeys and Big Boi, there were groups like Cosmic Suckerpunch, The Stone Foxes, and Diego’s Umbrella; they all maintained a small but avid following prior to Outside Lands, but by the end of Sunday (the 14^th) it was evident their fan bases grew exponentially. Their live presence is the main reason such groups were chosen to appear at this prominent festival. Unlike headliners, a poor performance is a make-or-break scenario, an opportunity that may never be salvaged.

With beer/wine in one hand and something off the grill in the other, most listeners excitably made their way around the Golden Gate Park over the three-day festival. Listeners could have stumbled upon a variety of interesting occurrences. Even to the least dedicated of music fans, it would be fun to see Dave Chappelle cracking jokes on stage during a Big Boi technical malfunction intermission, deadmau5 exposing an orgasm of lights and hallucinations on a crystallized stage, or Arcade Fire frontman Win Butler sharing the stage with soul maven Mavis Staples. And that’s mainly a bunch of superficial appeal, separate from the musical aspect (which Outside Lands dominated as well). Or perhaps you’re one to enjoy the difficult decisions of carefree affluence, like on Friday choosing between seeing Beirut or The Decemberists. For me that’s a fairly easy choice (Beirut), but you know the massive followings for either group would have a strong opinion either way.

In any case, enjoy the tracks from some of Outside Lands’ more unknown artists below. The Stone Foxes present a swanky form of bluesy alt-rock that brings to mind The White Stripes, Allman Brothers, and 12-bar blues modernists. Diego’s Umbrella calls their sound “gypsy rock”, though it sits more in the flamboyant indie-pop category with sparkling key-led hooks and a little bit of Latin percussive flair. They remain a bit rough around their edges, but clearly have the pop smarts to traverse beyond the Disney soundtrack limits. Their sound will be a bit too cartoonish for some, but it’s hard to deny their fast-paced bursts of creativity. Then The New Orleans Klezmer All-Stars, Paper Diamond, and Orgone present something entirely different. Gypsy instrumental, lush electronica, funk revivalism… a bit of everything perhaps? Take a listen:

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THE STONE FOXES

The Stone Foxes – I’m a King Bee

The Stone Foxes – I Killed Robert Johnson

RIYL: The White Stripes, Allman Brothers, The Dead Weather, The Kills, The Black Keys, The Hives, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Dan Auerbach

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DIEGO’S UMBRELLA

Diego’s Umbrella – Richardson

Diego’s Umbrella – Downtown

RIYL: Queen, Hot Hot Heat, The Cross, Deep Purple, Rooney, Randy Newman, Boy Kill Boy, We Are Scientists

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And now for some REAL Gypsy-inspired tunes, courtesy of THE NEW ORLEANS KLEZMER ALL-STARS. They tend to be surprisingly eclectic as their songs progress, showing influences hovering in blues, pop, and R&B:

The New Orleans Klezmer All-Stars – Moroccan Roller

RIYL: Gogol Bordello, Kultur Shock, Balkan Beat Box, Fanfare Cioc?rlia, Goran Bregovi?, Csókolom

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PAPER DIAMOND

Paper Diamond – Levitate

Paper Diamond – Snowfall

RIYL: Röyksopp, Air, Junior Boys, The Field, Groove Armada, The Chemical Brothers, Zero 7, Daft Punk

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ORGONE

Orgone – Who Knows Who

Orgone – Bacano Come Around

RIYL: Funkadelic, Parliament, Sly & the Family Stone, Graham Central, The Poets of Rhythm, Baby Charles, Lefties Soul Connection, Speedometer

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Cosmic Suckerpunch – In Love with a Robot

RIYL: Pearl Jam, Built to Spill, Pavement, Sebadoh, Archers of Loaf, Superchunk, No Age

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But alas, the days of summer festivals are over — at least for another nine or ten months. So for those starting to shuffle to class, save on next year’s tickets by checking out the Back to School Music Guide presented by Best Buy. Enter to win a $250 gift card to Best Buy and save on tablets, smartphones, and laptops. This deal was passed on to me, but I guess it’s more of a shock that you can buy a decent laptop these days for $300. That gift card would do the trick:

The post Dark Horses From Outside Lands appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

It’s telling of a band’s ambition when their first full-length is a double-album. The Wind’s Harum Scarum is just that. Except unlike the plethora of double-album misfires – a trend prevalent even among music veterans – Harum Scarum is an exceptionally crafted and well-paced epic that is bound to do more than generate buzz for the Long Beach-based quartet. This is the sort of album that launches an artist into cult status. Such massive followings are rarely possible after one album, but The Wind touch on forms of throwback pop and rock that very few artists the past decade have successfully conquered. Perhaps Dr. Dog at their brightest (We All Belong) came closest among the surveyors of ‘00s indie-rock, and even certain releases like David Vandervelde’s The Moonstation House Band and several from The Walkmen approached the realm of late ‘60s/early ‘70s songwriters in the idiosyncratic vein of Brian Wilson, Harry Nilsson, and Roger McGuinn. But as far as authentic re-interpretations of vintage sounds go, few releases the past few years come close to Harum Scarum.

Despite the entire album playing like an accomplishment, the biggest instances of genius are found in the album’s bookends. The album’s first two tracks – “Shellwhite and “Hathor” – in addition to closer “Monsters” are simply exceptional. “Hathor” perfectly encompasses every sunshine-filled Nilsson gem, the vocal trumpeting aligning perfectly with crisp island-bound guitar riffs; it is marked by influences that have inspired a variety of recent groups from Little Joy to Vampire Weekend. “Monsters”, as the title suggests, is not filled with the glowingly optimistic pop that is throughout much of the first disc – instead opting to show the group’s technical chops a bit more. The haunting guitar arpeggios slide seamlessly over a variety of pedal effects – often supported by reverbed tremolo – and craft a haunting feel that serves as a masterful closer to a brilliant album. It’s hard to avoid the Queen comparisons here, specifically to their own epics like the softer sections of “Bohemian Rhapsody”.

After the equally jubilant “Marvel Me” continues to introduce the first disc, “Pussyfoot” creeps along with plenty of personality; its percussively old-western beginning makes a wonderfully suave transition to wah-wah guitars and maudlin keys that is supremely Beatlesque, a la “For the Benefit of Mr. Kite”. The swanky guitar solo, accompanied by a trembling piano tremolo, concludes the track with perfect maneuvering. The sound of raindrops at the song’s end gently transitions to “Oh, Hadihu”, a beautiful acoustical serenade with blue-sky imagery that helps solidify this section of the album’s psych-pop bliss. The feel is even more invigorated on the fascinatingly choppy interlude “Do Geese See God? Yes.” It essentially serves as a precursor to “Lucy”, a nonchalant old-timey rocker that mixes ‘60s British invasion harmonies with breezy guitar licks and bumbling organ stabs reminiscent of Brian Wilson tour-mates Wondermints and classic power-poppers Jellyfish.

“Come On” adds a fuller-bodied incorporation of soul and blues into the group’s sound. Lead vocalist Chad Marshman belts out with gravelly exuberance, like Joe Cocker did on his cover of “With a Little Help from My Friends”. It helps carry one of the longer efforts on the double-album, also serving as an interesting contrast to the subsequent “Clemencious”. A fast-moving psych-pop effort that flies through a bevy of smart hooks, “Clemencious” is full of the jovially youthful sound that appears as a trademark in Beach Boys harmonies. The quartet’s ability to incorporate differing forms of harmonizing throughout the album is one of their biggest strengths. For instance, while “Lucy” is more typical of the linearly reflective harmonies in British invasion, “Clemencious” features a constantly evolving range of harmonies that serve as a leading instrument; the latter is arduously difficult to accomplish, and one of the reasons why Brian Wilson is considered an indisputable genius. No wonder he is an unavoidable influence for The Wind, and enjoyably so.

The second disc gets off to a dull start with the overly traditionalized “An Astral Dance and a Shared Dream”, but quickly reverts back to form with the excellent “Sunshine and Peace of Mind”. Like a lost George Harrison ballad, this one relies heavily on distorted guitar twangs and belting vocals that pellet the listener with raw emotion. It ends with an illuminated starry-eyed organ that paves the path for “All the Country Roads”, a desolate ballad that touches on alt-country with its shrill organs and caressing harmonies – the latter of which fall somewhere between British invasion and surf-pop in both mirroring guitar schematics and occasionally prepping for structural twists (like at 01:31, where each verse is musically the same but is backed by an altered vocal harmony each time).

The dopey horns and rich orchestral accompaniment of “I’ze Born a Rich Man” is a mixture of a lively carnival, a Tom Waits narrative, and an outtake from Sgt. Pepper. The increased intensity of keys and percussion around the two-minute mark combines all these for a sound very comparable to Man Man, albeit with a more accessible feel despite several samples which resemble a flu-induced nightmare. Chalk this one up as purely successful experimentation; the hooks are plentiful, and even though it is much too ambitious for radio-play it is one of the most creative and thoroughly enjoyable tracks on Harum Scarum. After the sleepy but graciously hazy psych-rock of “Some Place” and the overly extended trad-rock runaround “27 Cent Blues”, the ELO-inspired bursts of keys and fuzzy bass within “This Is the Modern World” provide more welcome experimentation. The siren-like blaring after the first few verses is very reminiscent of Brian Wilson’s Grammy-winning “Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow”. Add to that winning ode a number of deeply harmonized instances of explosive psych-rock choruses that draw immediate comparisons to Pink Floyd and Jefferson Airplane.

While Harum Scarum is bound to conjure up ample comparisons to past greats, it does not detract from the excellent songwriting or creative production choices throughout. Starting with immistakeable pop gems like “Hathor” and ending with haunting rock ballads in “Yankee Brig” and “Monsters”, this is an album with rarely accomplished feats. Not only does it stay thematically intact throughout its 80-minute duration; it also showcases a form of consistency that double-albums rarely tout. Imagine a collection of greatest hits that, for whatever reason, flowed with the grace and precision of a full-length. That is what Harum Scarum will sound like to admirers to The Beach Boys, Nilsson, and other revolutionary late ‘60s/early ‘70s pop headliners. Just wait for this band to get huge, or at least attain a substantial cult following.

The Wind – Hathor

The Wind – Sunshine and Peace of Mind

The Wind – Monsters

The Wind – Oh, Hadihu

The Wind – Clemencious

Official Site / Bandcamp (first disc is free)

The post The Wind – Harum Scarum (2011) 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.

An artist who sports a scruffy beard, sings about “indie queens” and kings, and names their album after a Kurt Vonnegut quote is bound to create a memorable first impression. It may sound like the definitive stereotype for all these independent artists I write about, so smug with their tastes and beliefs that their own art sometimes ends up reeking of old influences and re-hashed ideas. The problem is, these flaws tend to appear with time and not in instantaneous fashion. I sometimes go back and listen to groups I wrote about two or three years ago. Some I admired for their songcraft, others for their style or innovation. But there was never a case in which a new artist achieved perfection, even if they came painstakingly close to it. Seeing a likable band that is new today in the future could either be devastating or triumphant. One of the most rewarding things about writing for this site is seeing how bands I featured in the past grow, remain the same, or disintegrate all together after their first or second release. The growers are receptive to change in both a minor and dramatic sense, while the stabilizers appear content with consistency in artistic development, financial income, and the fluctuation of their fan base. Both can falter at any moment, but the risks are obviously higher for those not fearful of change. For them, their biggest enemy is the two-sided realm of criticism.

When artists pursue a certain lyrical or musical style that is unconventional, there opens an opportunity for outspoken criticism to prevent an artist from evolving into a transitional songwriter, rather than one who is satisfied with placidity and not artistic stimulation. Dan Mangan has always been a talented and genuine storyteller, and to coexist in an industry where visuals and exploitation reign in the mainstream must be difficult. The pressure must mount, but Mangan has always remained unfazed. On top of that, the 26-year-old sings about topics that are both emotionally sensitive and culturally contemporary, ranging from the loss of cell phone service in “Robots” to the loss of a loved one in the excellent “Fair Verona”. He criticizes certain components of society, like the tendency of tasteless elitists to push their tastes upon others in “The Indie Queens Are Waiting”, but applauds others, like the wisdom that love can offer in “You Silly Girl” or that old stories can offer in “Basket”. Through it all he maintains the utmost focus and relevance to his own sound, his raggedly enthralling voice being complemented beautifully by a range of twinkling keys, hushed acoustic guitars, lush pianos, and accompanying harmonicas.

Mangan’s lyrical delivery is influenced by one of his favorite writers, the late Kurt Vonnegut. Like Vonnegut, he relays life’s most utmost complexities into a literary form that is simple to grasp. It hardly takes the elusiveness out of the product though, actually adding more to its enigma because of the clever analogies or playful visuals. Mangan’s sophomore album, Nice, Nice, Very Nice, borrows a line from Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle for its title. “Oh, a sleeping drunkard up in Central Park, and a lion-hunter in the jungle dark,” the quote goes. “And a Chinese dentist, and a British queen – all fit together in the same machine.” It is an apt reference and allusion, especially in Mangan’s case. “Nice, nice, very nice,” it concludes, “So many different people in the same device.” As Vonnegut channeled the unified mechanisms of society into a simple analogy, Mangan moves to our modern world in combining his unique melodic ability with a lyrical delivery that showcases his adoration for literary devices. He tackles cell phone reception and the harsh complexities of reality, all on one album that is diverse enough both lyrically and melodically to resonate with most social demographics that are willing to listen.

Nice, Nice, Very Nice is yet another fantastic folk release from Canada, proving Mangan to be a songwriter with durability and prevalent ability. Despite it being the antithesis of commercial success, his ambitious lyrical approach and tendency to avoid generic pitfalls shows that he will certainly be one to look out for in the coming decade. “Robots” sports a very nice acoustical arrangement and passionate vocal display under snazzy brass accompaniments and active percussion. “And I spent half of my life in the customer service line,” Mangan sings, “flaws in the design, a sign of the times.” Society’s obsession with technological automation has been touched upon before, but this is a clever and worthwhile song nonetheless thanks to its refreshing approach. Those looking for a deeper and more artistically invigorating song should turn to “Fair Verona”, one of my favorites on the album. Listening to both “Robots” and “Fair Verona” should provide listeners with a good representation of Mangan, as his strength as a diversified songwriter is one that should certainly be valued.

With occasional bleeps of synth and sporadic chimes of electric guitar serving as the only consistent instrumentation over the steady rhythm section, this song is built for Mangan’s voice and storytelling ability to take over. The music sways accordingly to the romanticized tale, one of how the phrase “carpe diem” needs to be valued more in relationships. Brass is the first to become a truly established instrument, only to fade again before lush strings take over their place. Each occurs during a solemn and strikingly appropriate moment for their entry, with Mangan introducing fun alterations of the verses and chorus along the way. “Pine for Cedars” and “Set the Sails” close out the album with a transcendental tone, alluding to nature as the most harmless source of moral salvation. The amount of content on the album cannot be defined by length, as Mangan packs a punch from beginning to end by exposing the world’s intricacies in the only way we can understand them. He delivers them in the simplest and most apt way possible.

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Dan Mangan – Robots

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Dan Mangan – Fair Verona

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Dan Mangan – Pine for Cedars

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Official Site

MySpace

BUY

The post Dan Mangan Recalls the Classics appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Distinction will never be an issue for Wild Beasts. With a voice like Hayden Thorpe’s, it almost seems as if the English four-piece could put any arrangement under his dramatic delivery and the result would sound great. A stylistically distinctive vocalist can bring a new group soaring to great heights, as a natural ability like this tends to compensate for musical richness and cumulative innovation among critics that are satisfied by stylistic ambition alone. Luckily for new artists like these, the rampant tendency of critics to proclaim an artist as the next big thing based on stylistic accomplishments alone leads to recognition that is often undeserved (though this plight is common in the music industry regardless). There is often a disregard for the effectiveness of songwriting and cohesiveness of the respective release, prompted by a certain characteristic embedded in the artist’s sound that drastically separates them from their influences and contemporaries alike. In music, compensation for the insufficient is a manipulative process that results in artists either reaching their pinnacle or becoming forgotten by any indication of a fan base. Certainly there are some artists that dabble in perfection and never need to undergo this developmental process, but in this day and age where creativity is dampened by an excess of influences it is hard to look past a style that either creates feelings of extreme detest or excitable captivation among its listeners.

Unlike most other indie-rock newcomers, Wild Beasts probably were not the most desperate for a fan base right away. Most groups that successfully hearken back to a nostalgic style hardly are. It would be easy to slide Wild Beasts into a grouping that includes British Sea Power, Glasvegas, and perhaps even Franz Ferdinand. While Wild Beasts are generally darker and more distinctive in tone, these are all acts that wear their influences on their sleeves, showing no reluctance to bring out theatrical vocals in the vein of Queen or Sparks over eerie guitar progressions deriving from ‘80s post-punk. Classifying British Sea Power and Franz Ferdinand in this niche may be a slight reach though, as their roots tend to be more reflective of this decade’s art-rock push than the somberness of post-punk. Their voices though, whether it is Alex Kapranos or Yan, tend to emit a similar croon that is both deep in its audible and figurative meaning. The difference between these groups and Wild Beasts is quite simple though. The groups like Franz Ferdinand have lately striven for commercial access, releasing perfectly capable material in that regard but hardly breaking through any stylistic boundaries. Wild Beasts are so impressive because they are devoid of this pop-fueled desire, instead opting for the teary-eyed dramatics that made legendary post-punk acts like The Chameleons UK, Joy Division, and Billy Mackenzie so memorable. This authenticity is one of the reasons why their songwriting may be overlooked, which would be positive if they were generic songwriters. As it turns out though, the work on their new album is exceptional.

The most quirkily enjoyable thing about Wild Beasts is the juxtaposition of their varying influences. Thorpe’s lead vocals are strongly reminiscent of the quivering cries for help that Billy Mackenzie made famous in the realm of post-punk, but their music often hints at lights of optimism that are rare in a genre that encompasses such an enjoyably sullen haze. But while Thorpe makes post-punk the most oblivious practice on their second album, Two Dancers, but their tendency to use unconventional practices like chirpy guitar progressions or exhilaratingly anthemic choruses is what creates their signature sound. They are able to reach into the depths of sadness without coming across as melodramatic, just as they are able to scale the dizzying heights of pop elegance without coming across as too desperate for fame and fortune. These tendencies result in a sound that borrows neither too much from the past nor excess from the present, resulting in a sound that is fresh and engaging without being classified into the ridiculously flexible genre of art-rock. Two Dancers is a tremendous growth in development from Wild Beasts’ 2008 debut, Limbo, Panto, that sees the four-piece expanding upon a nostalgic sound that is revitalized by fresh pop hooks and an unforgettable voice that reminds us of a few musical treats from the decade of greatest excess, the ‘80s.

Falsettos have recently been tied to comedy or musical spoofs, with most artists too afraid of the delicate tactic to actually implement it into their sound. It seems to come natural for Thorpe though; he flawlessly flaunts it on practically every song. Like Antony and the Johnsons though, it is perfect for the style. “Hooting & Howling” contains just enough energy to show off Thorpe’s ability, but maintains the lush and relaxed composure of the general album with steady percussion and sporadic piano additives. Thorpe retains a sort of seductiveness that pertains more to the revolutionary performers of the ‘50s, even if the African-inspired percussion and thick guitar progression sound distinctively from within the past 25 years. This is him at his most upbeat, effortlessly eluding the stereotyping of melodramatic post-punk with a youthful, finger-snapping impression that prepares their style for a generation full of romanticized drama kings and queens.

“When I’m Sleepy” or “All the King’s Men” is more apt for that sort, being more direct in their respective descriptions of death and desperation over mumbled vocals that weep and yelp over anguished guitar lines. The bass lines are subtler than typical post-punk, but the dramatics of the distorted guitars and weep-y vocals are still there, stuffed with pop-oriented theatrics that make the style more accessible for those somewhat opposed to the dramatics of Joy Division or The Cure. “We Still Got the Taste Dancing on Our Tongues” finds Thorpe’s most theatrical crooning uplifted by guitar tremolos and sprinkles of haunting keys that coincide with his vocals to craft a sound that is as elegantly uplifting as it is haunting and serene. And this is what Two Dancers is; it serves as phenomenal album that quickly follows up a debut to prove that Wild Beasts are more than clever stylistic imitators. Most importantly, it shows that they are great songwriters and producers in their own right, leading to the credibility of all forthcoming recognition.

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Wild Beasts – Hooting & Howling (video)

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Wild Beasts – All the King’s Men

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Wild Beasts – We Still Got the Taste Dancing on Our Tongues

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Official Web Site

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The post Wild Beasts and Two Dancers appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

I often find March to be one of the dullest months of the year. Apart from the allure of St. Patrick’s Day and March Madness, there is little to get excited about. The weather sucks, the workload for classes is nearing its peak, and my inability to pick a decent bracket frustrates me to no end (damn you, Memphis and Pitt). But hey, classes are over about a month from now and baseball starts next week, so things could be worse. In a month where good music was vital in improving somber moods, several artists prevailed with some excellent material. From familiar faces like The Veils and Röyksopp to up-and-coming hype machines like Micachu, Tesla Boy, and Julian Velard, several artists made March a month to remember with a handful of releases that are sure to appear on my year-end list. The ’80s electro of Tesla Boy and the cabaret-pop of Julian Velard suggest some sort of throwback theme, but wildly successful attempts at innovation from Micachu, The Veils, and others make it a compilation that presents material derived from both nostalgia and contemporary innovation. I consider it to be an excellent fusion.

01. The Veils – The Letter (post)
02. Richard Swift – Already Gone (post)
03. The Deep Dark Woods – Polly (post)
04. Röyksopp – The Girl and the Robot (post)
05. Tesla Boy – Spirit of the Night (post)
06. Julian Velard – Jimmy Dean & Steve McQueen (post)
07. Micachu – Golden Phone (post)
08. The Mint Chicks – I Can’t Stop Being Foolish (post)
09. Chris Robley & The Fear of Heights – A Memory Lost at Sea (post)
10. Home Video – I Can Make You Feel It (post)
11. The Gift Machine – In the Middle (post)

DOWNLOAD ENTIRE COMPILATION>>> (45.4 MB, .RAR)

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

Anti-normative behavior is expected from most successful artists. There is little reason for them to pay much attention to the Top 40, since worthwhile artists do not derive their material from popular opinion. It may seem like a bold statement, but there is little purpose in devoting a large amount of time to a songwriter who sounds like everyone else on the radio. Listeners come to expect innovation but there is often a personal struggle for artists that wish to find the middle ground between accustomed accessibility and staggering innovation. This process often cannot be resolved through practice though, as the proper ideology appears to be embedded within the talented scope of an artist whether it is before they start writing songs or not. If one has a tendency to gravitate toward the unconventional in the early stages of their life, it can provide good indication of such an embedded ideology. When Julian Velard was in his teens and started to become wildly interested in music, one can imagine the social circumstances that surrounded him. Unlike today’s auto-tuned R&B and subliminally linear pop music, the 29-year-old experienced the likes of Pavement, Nirvana, and the Pixies when music began to first tickle his ears. He enjoyed the emerging genres of grunge and indie-rock but, unlike his peers, much of Velard’s attention was diverted elsewhere: cabaret-style pop music.

While Velard’s similar adoration for stylistically contrasting groups like XTC, Hall & Oates, and Rage Against the Machine is indicative of his eclectic persona, his favoritism for piano-based cabaret pop in the vein of Elton John and Randy Newman shows most prominently in his music. However, Velard is not guilty of exploiting the past, as he allows his steady influences to be effected by components of contemporary pop music in order to ease the transition for his modernistic audience. Similarly to Rufus Wainwright, Velard’s demanding presence as a performer, vocalist, and songwriter is a simultaneous force that appears both on record and on stage. Hearkening back to the days of cabaret, he is a multi-instrumental whiz who uses his highly melodic vocals, engaging storytelling ability, and key-based instrumentation to construct a wide arsenal of uplifting pop hooks and melancholic ballads. In Velard’s case, this force is also inherent behind his webcam. Success has never been immediate for the NYC-based songwriter, but his practice of recording cover songs by the likes of Madonna, Michael Jackson, and Kings of Leon has provided him with nearly one million views on YouTube, being very symbolic of Velard’s method of obtaining success thus far. Although he has yet to attain substantial recognition in the US, Velard’s online fanbase continues to grow both domestically and internationally due to his personable online presence.

It was through Velard’s digitalized awareness that he has become a very recognizable name in the UK. One of the many spectators of Velard’s covers on YouTube and his online cult following were a few British music executives that eventually landed Velard a deal with EMI in 2007. Detecting that the British audience would be more receptive to his style of cabaret-pop, Velard moved to the UK and began writing material for his new album, The Planeteer. Prior to this, Velard had self-released three albums that were well-polished but went mainly overlooked. In the UK, however, the opposite was true. There are just certain groups (The Jam come to mind) who find momentous success in the UK and not in the US, and Velard’s case is fascinating since the US is actually his country of origin. Even so, it perplexes me as to how no American labels took notice of Velard before EMI picked him up. His style is distinctively accessible, enough so that his twinkling keys and impressive vocals craft hooks that are instantly prevalent and very radio-friendly. If I were to guess though, The Planeteer should be explosive for Velard’s stateside recognition. Apart from being his first release on a major label, it finds his excellent pop songwriting chops refined by sharper production, an increase in confidence, and less pressure due to his previous accomplishments (signing with EMI, touring with the likes of Goldfrapp and Ben Kweller, etc.). If both EMI and Velard accomplish what they have the potential to, The Planeteer could be one of the most prominent breakthrough albums of 2009.

Now that Velard has finally been given the opportunity to widely distribute his material, it is hardly a surprise that a few fan favorites are re-appearing on The Planeteer. Both “Jimmy Dean & Steve McQueen” and “Joni” appeared on 2006’s The Movies Without You, but they are certainly memorable enough to warrant placement on his first major release. “Jimmy Dean & Steve McQueen” is an irresistible ode to Velard’s appreciation of film and the idolized actors in them. Whether he sings of plastic surgery or unrealistic nostalgia, the loss of innocence relayed in “Jimmy Dean & Steve McQueen” is the perfect example of Velard’s delivery with its entertaining lyrical quips and assortment of saxophones, guitars, and keyboards. “Joni” is another particularly engaging pop song, being somewhat reminiscent to Ted Leo’s “Timorous Me” in its reflectively romanticized approach. The chorus here is marvelous, using an effective assortment of sparkling keys and swift strings to construct what has the potential to be Velard’s first stateside “hit.” Velard’s lyrical content is never particularly complex or thought-provoking, but his words are fun and his infectious melodies supplement them beautifully. As seen on any of these tracks, Velard has an astute ability to judge a pop song. His songs never stray too long or end too abruptly; they are always filled with enough melodic alterations to hook the listener from start to finish. It is a rare skill among modern songwriters and producers alike, and it is likely one that will finally carry Velard to success on a national level.

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Julian Velard – Jimmy Dean & Steve McQueen

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Julian Velard – Joni

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Julian Velard – Love Again for the First Time

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Official Web Site (this site won awards for a good reason — check it out)

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The post Julian Velard Is The Planeteer appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Although they may not realize it, high school students are in incredibly unique circumstances. They have a general comprehension of the occupational process and the basic decisions that mold their future, but their current ideology is often restrained by a state of indecisiveness that makes both their appearance and ambitions a variable that can change at any moment. Unlike adults whose career paths are already defined or children that have little grasp of reputational or occupational advantages, high school students have the privilege of using their sociological and educational experience to actively pursue their most ideal future occupation without it being a detriment to their current standing. This is the primary reason why high school reunions can be so fascinating. Learning that the stereotypical loner developed into a profitable “people person” or that the arrogant prom queen was too embarrassed to show up are just a few examples of the dramatic parallels that end up often occurring. With outcomes like these, predicting someone’s future in high school is impractical due to high range of flexibility that one has in defining who they are as a person. This leads to all sorts of analysis; if I were forced to choose the “group” in high school that held onto their beliefs most durably after their graduation, it would have to be the “artsy” types. Whether in the form of music, painting, or photography, it seemed to me that students who devoted most of their free time to an art made it such a part of their life that abandoning it at any time in their future would be unrealistic.

How this ideology is embedded within the general practice of artistry is commendable, as exhibited by artists that we universally deem as influential. Great artists are often so consumed with their work that not creating art in their field is nearly equivalent to starving for them. If you put a canvas and paintbrush in front of an avid painter and told him not to paint, he would likely rather be told not to eat. Although they may have been classified as “those kids that dress in black and listen to weird music” in high school, the two members in Home Video are further proof of this ceaselessly productive ideology embedded into artists. David Gross and Collin Ruffino met in a high school art class, found an instant connection over the topic of art, and instantly began their collaborative process involving art. Ruffino was one of those kids that wore black and listened to ‘90s alt-rock staples like Smashing Pumpkins and Nine Inch Nails, while Gross was a classically trained pianist who had been sheltered from any type of music created during the twentieth century. Their first collaborative artistic venture was a film that Gross starred in and Ruffino directed, but their musical intentions soon became mutual after Ruffino introduced Gross to contemporary music. Sometimes an artist just needs to be stimulated with a little modernistic relevancy to bring out his true form, and this is exactly what the duo did for each other during the developmentally vital stage of high school.

A sheltered classical pianist and a fan of dark alternative-rock is an interesting mixture to say the least, but it was the similar artistic ideologies of Gross and Ruffino that molded the connection between them and brought them recognition less than ten years after their first art class together. Ruffino had showed Gross that contemporary pop music could be just as emotionally ardent as classical music, and Gross’ natural music ability aided Ruffino when the duo eventually decided to form their own project. Ruffino was wise enough to show Gross a variety of now-legendary albums like Radiohead’s OK Computer and Massive Attack’s Mezzanine, exhibiting a mixture between rock, pop, and electronica. College saw the two separate for a bit, with Gross in Boston studying music and Ruffino in New York studying film. Like all good friends though, they hung out during breaks and continued to write music together from time to time. Once the rush of college had subsided, Gross moved to New York and the duo began creating their first material for Home Video. Their first two EPs, That You Might and Citizen, captured the attention of Warp Records, one of the most prominent labels in all of electronic music. That an extremely prestigious label like Warp released their debuting EPs was simply indicative of the great potential that Home Video exhibited through their ethereal interpretation of electro-rock.

After Home Video’s EPs and their single, “That You Might”, began to attract considerable acclaim in the UK, the recognition started to carry over to the US as well. In addition to being featured in Rolling Stone, they toured with a variety of acts like Blonde Redhead, Justice, and Crystal Castles. Home Video’s debut full-length, No Certain Night Or Morning, was released in 2006 and featured plenty of promising material, but most audiences were still waiting for Home Video to capitalize on their undeniable potential. Seeking the transition that would satisfy fans who were aware of their talent, Home Video took a three year hiatus between the release of their full-length and this year’s release, It Will Be OK. Looking to acquaint listeners with their stylistic progression before the release of their second full-length, the four-track EP is available for free on their web site. As Home Video must have intended, the result is a magnificent leap forward. While their past material may have encompassed too many clichés to separate them from the rest of the electro-rock world, It Will Be OK appears to be Home Video’s first major step forward. The instrumentation never reaches points of startling complexity, but the gradual build-ups and subtle melodic alterations that the duo infuse into each song results in a highly memorable release that takes advantage of their electro-oriented sophistication without ever sounding too overbearing or desperate.

“I Can Make You Feel It”, the EP’s opener, is immediately indicative of Home Video’s growth. I doubt you can find a review that does not compare Ruffino’s vocals to Thom Yorke’s, but instead of the desperate imitation that was occasionally prevalent on Home Video’s past releases, his approach here sounds more natural and adjusted toward Home Video’s assortment of evolving percussion, gradual synth accompaniments, and subtle implementations of guitar. The melodic harmonizing within Ruffino’s multiple vocal layers is what establishes this song as one of their best yet, as the conclusion that sees an appropriate piano accompaniment cap off the song’s most consummate chorus is arguably the EP’s most uplifting moment. All of the tracks on It Will Be OK are hardly complex, and an effort like “You Will Know What to Do” remains reminiscent of the driving pulse present in minimalism. “Every Love That Ever Was” is notable for containing the most pure form of synth-pop on the album, even to the point where comparisons to Junior Boys are realistic. The arpeggio during the chorus may not serve as the most innovative in the duo’s repertoire, but it certainly does enough to get the listener’s emotions running; it is an attribute that Gross deemed impossible in pop music before he met Ruffino, but now both are crafting the formerly impossible. Because of this focused ideology, Home Video appear to finally be living up to their potential as songwriters and stylistic innovators. If this EP is any indication, one can expect Home Video’s second full-length to be the album that breaks them out in a big way.

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Home Video – I Can Make You Feel It

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Home Video – Every Love That Ever Was

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Home Video – You Will Know What to Do

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Official Web Site

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The post Home Video Makes It OK appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

It can be a difficult task to find a band whose lyrical content tends to stray away from the clichés of love and the emotions caused by it. Although I enjoy a diverse range of topics, it is hard to blame most of these artists. After all, if there is one thing that all listeners can personally relate to, it is the feeling of loving one another or being loved. Mutual reciprocation often results in accompanying music that is gleeful and optimistic and nature, while an unrequited form sees somber and bleak instrumentation take over. This is conventionalism at its most prevalent, and it is a method that many groups have found reasonable success with. However, since this site always aims to feature capable artists that can potentially attain success through their innovation alone, I tend to favor an act like The Deep Dark Woods. Rather than simply reiterating themes of loneliness through tragic instrumentation or proclaiming true love over an upbeat melody, this Canadian four-piece already have a skill that many other contemporary folk groups of their nature do not possess. Whether a track by The Deep Dark Woods involves the murder of an ex-girlfriend, the financial struggles of being an independent musician, or the decision of choosing between fame and friends, each effort on their new album combines great songwriting with reflective lyrical sentiments that are always uniquely captivating. Tragically, this form of individuality is a rarity among most contemporary folk songwriters.

The beginnings of The Deep Dark Woods trace back to the childhoods of all four members. Guitarist Burke Barlow and bassist Chris Mason went to the same high school together in Saskatoon, while Barlow and guitarist Ryan Boldt had known each other since the age of 12, when they met at a summer camp. The three met drummer Lucas Goetz shortly after they decided to form a band, recording their initial demos in his parents’ basement. The Deep Dark Woods’ first batch of material tended to be more representative of indie-rock. Due primarily to inexperience, high school bands tend to mimic their favorite artists instead of attempting to craft their own sound and this was indicative of that. In The Deep Dark Woods’ case, the influence of bands like Radiohead and Queens of the Stone Age showed. However, after a few years of maturation, the four naturally gifted musicians found that they had enough ability to attempt innovation and bring their project to the next level. The growth that The Deep Dark Woods would experience in the next several years would prove extraordinarily, eventually leading them up to where they are now with their best album yet, Winter Hours. As their third full-length release, it capitalizes on the potential shown on their first two albums, attempts that were memorable but still seemed to be striving for something bigger and more indicative of the group’s cumulative talent.

When The Deep Dark Woods released their self-titled debut in 2006, the ten tracks tended to showcase the band’s excitable live presence rather than the songwriting itself. Recorded entirely on analog, the tight craftsmanship led the four-piece to gigs alongside the likes of Magnolia Electric Co., The Sadies, and The Stills. It also earned them a deal with Black Hen Music, a Canadian record label that was founded by producer and musician Steve Dawson. Dawson has appeared numerous times on this site, whether it has been to showcase his impressive solo material or his wide range of produced artists, which represent anyone from Ndidi Onukwulu to The Voyces. So, when I learned that Dawson had produced The Deep Dark Woods’ second album, Hang Me Oh Hang Me, in addition to their new album, Winter Hours, I knew that production quality would not be an issue. Dawson has a tendency to bring out to the best of folk-oriented artists, and he has done wonders in unveiling The Deep Dark Woods’ individuality as songwriters and lyricists.Winter Hours is one of those albums that capitalizes on subtleties and creative lyrical themes to achieve a reputable status that separates itself from other albums in the same genre. To simply put it, Winter Hours is one of a kind, even if the occasional shades of Neil Young, The Band, and The Byrds are enjoyably evident in the process.

As Winter Hours establishes with the opening “Farewell”, a haunting retelling of a man convicted for murdering his girlfriend because she broke up with him for being “a bore”, this is not your typical folk album. After Boldt’s somber vocals establish imagery of a man leaving his hometown, bidding farewell to his friends, and finding love in his new location, the vocals of two or three members to combine for a ghostly chorus that combines slide guitars and quivering whimpers to foreshadow what is to come. “He plunged a knife in her stomach and grabbed her feet”, Boldt sings shortly thereafter, “and threw her into the waters so deep.” The chorus then repeats itself, sounding even more powerful than before. Sure, the theme practically boils down to a bad break-up, but The Deep Dark Woods tell it so poetically with such melodic conviction that their uniqueness is a quality that should be cherished. Even on a more lightheartedly simplistic track like “Polly”, which was created randomly during one of the band’s jam sessions, their grasp of harmonic infectiousness is impressive. Boldt’s vocals here sound like The National’s Matt Berninger, an apt comparison since both bands capitalize on similar strengths of catchy indie-folk and unique lyrical sentiments.

Another aspect of The Deep Dark Woods that should be appealing to most fans of folk is their lo-fi tendencies. There is rarely more than a few guitars, a bass, and drums on one of their songs. An outstanding effort like “All the Money I Had Is Gone” exhibits this well, employing a mixture of acoustic and slide guitars over a tight rhythm section as Boldt uses his deep croon and melancholic demeanor to successfully establish the hardships of debt and finances in a world that uses it so desperately as a point of judgment. Even when an organ emerges toward the song’s conclusion, it is implemented so well that it substitutes for Boldt’s concluded vocals. This is how much of Winter Hours works; the band does not waste one second in making a song overly simplistic or complex. Even on story-led westerns like “The Gallows” or epic successes like “The Sun Never Shines” (the three-minute guitar solo is Grateful Dead fetishism at its best), there is not one second that is wasted. Another noteworthy effort is “The Birds on the Bridge”, a diverse mixture of vocal-led harmonies and instrumental build-ups. Here, Boldt alternates between deliveries that are reminiscent of Neil Young and Fleet Foxes’ Robin Pecknold. Considering that the songwriting also tends to be just as good, it is one of many successes on an album that will likely pinpoint The Deep Dark Woods as one of the better indie-folk acts of 2009.

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The Deep Dark Woods – Polly

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The Deep Dark Woods – All the Money I Had Is Gone

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The Deep Dark Woods – Farewell

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Black Hen Music

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The post The Deep Dark Woods’ Winter Hours appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

by Mike Mineo

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20. Ra Ra Riot – The Rhumb Line

Losing a member of a band to death can be devastating. No matter how many arguments and fistfights were initiated in the past, it is a fact that many groups tend to form a family-like bond after years and even months of touring and working together. When Ra Ra Riot’s original drummer, John Pike, was found dead on June 3rd of 2007, his former band mates were stunned. “This has felt like the unraveling plot of a tragic piece of fiction,” they said in a press release. However, about a month after Pike’s death, the band announced that they would continue the group in Pike’s memory. A string of tour dates and the eponymous EP in 2007 brought the group increased recognition as they prepared their debut full-length album, The Rhumb Line. The album itself serves as a fine example of the group’s potential, with their flashy style of art-rock serving as both an accessible and contagious interpretation of contemporary indie-rock. The New York-based group works with tinges of post-punk and punk, implementing both cellos and violins over a zealous display of dazzling guitars and tenacious rhythm sections. Vocalist Wesley Miles emits a sharp, slightly high-pitched tone that is reminiscent of vocalists in the vein of Nick Stumpf (The French Kicks) or a more subdued Hamilton Leithauser (The Walkmen). All together, it creates a very convincing sound that proves memorable despite its common originations. In addition to his role as a co-songwriter on a handful of tracks, one notable posthumous contribution from Pike on The Rhumb Line comes in the form of lyrical content. With Miles, he wrote “Dying is Fine”, a gripping track that wholly capitalizes on the group’s stellar mixture of strings and guitars. With an E.E. Cummings quotation serving as the main hook, the topic is emotionally ironic and the melody is addictively consuming. The mournful “Ghost Under Rocks” also makes excellent use of strings, guiding yet another captivating chorus as Miles yelps in perhaps his most emotionally resounding vocal performance on the album. “Here you are, you are breathing like little ghosts under rocks,” he sings, speaking of romanticized suffocation in mildly poetic form. When compared to the regretful – though dynamically vigorous – yelps and moans of “Ghost Under Rocks” and “Dying is Fine”, Miles’ vocals in “Winter ‘05” are appropriately more somber as the strings increase in intricacy and the percussion subtly adds several shuffled components. Along with a cover of Kate Bush’s “Suspended in Gaffa” making the cut, it exemplifies how The Rhumb Line serves as an enjoyably eclectic album within a fused genre that desperately needs it these days.

Ra Ra Riot – Dying is Fine

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19. Gentleman Jesse – Introducing Gentleman Jesse and His Men

One of the most appealing aspects of power-pop is the ability it has to remain untainted in a world where stylistic alteration is often inevitable. While some may argue that the genre’s apparent lack of stylistic ambition is the cause for such sturdy pop ideologies, the crafters of such music never seem to be given enough credit for their reluctance to become submissive toward what is deemed as this week’s fad in the music industry. Gentleman Jesse and His Men, a talented four-piece based out of Atlanta, employ this highly accessible form of power-pop very well, but they are also quite unique when compared to other groups in the genre. Yes, they are comparably intent on hooking in the listener with exceptionally infectious choruses and stellar harmonizing, but Gentleman Jesse and His Men happen to be significantly more nostalgic in approach. Instead of employing a formula in which an overwhelming degree of varying styles clash within a comforting power-pop aroma, the four-piece instead opts to bring back what made the genre so great in the first place. Traditional punk and garage-rock are the main forces at work here, making comparisons to the early workings of power-pop greats Exploding Hearts somewhat unavoidable. Exploding Hearts certainly infused more elements of punk into their overall sound, but the approach and level of melodic alteration remains highly comparable in the sentiment that both groups rely on amiable simplicity to elicit a uniquely engaging charm in which the songwriting and consequential hooks sound freshly invigorating despite the minimal forces of instrumentation at work. On their debut, Introducing Gentleman Jesse and His Men, frontman Jesse Smith plays the role of accessible power-pop vocalist with apparent ease, extracting a youthful tone of amateur exuberance while simultaneously allowing his commendable melodic range to flow naturally with the brisk use of guitar-led instrumentation. This is perhaps best heard on “All I Need Tonight (Is You)”, a track that would likely have been considered a classic by now if it had been released 30 years ago. From the lyrics to the lead guitar progression, the approach is extraordinarily simple but the appeal arrives in the strong melodic form that Smith conveys with the utmost confidence. In conventional power-pop form, he utilizes a callback approach in the utterly irresistible chorus before embellishing the moment with an extremely concise guitar solo. “You Got Me Where You Want Me” and “Attention” also utilize this accustomed callback approach with surprising precision. Those who view most traditional power-pop as a one-trick pony will likely state the same about Gentleman Jesse and His Men’s debut album, but anyone who enjoys fantastic hooks guided by little more than a guitar and rhythm section simply needs to check it out. Intricate it may not be, but this album’s infectiousness is downright undeniable.

Gentleman Jesse – All I Need Tonight (Is You)

Gentleman Jesse – You Got Me Where You Want Me

Douchemaster Records

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18. Håkan Hellström – För sent för Edelweiss

Swedish listeners first caught a glimpse of Hellström in 2000 with his hit single “Känn ingen sorg för mig Göteborg”, with Hellström also releasing his debut album of that same name in November. Prior to the release, Hellström was only recognized as fans of the Swedish indie-pop band Broder Daniel as their drummer, a position he vacated between 1988 and 1994. He then rejoined the band in 1997 with a new role as the bassist, leaving in 2003 to focus solely on his solo career. By that time, Hellström had also released a second album, Det är så jag säger det, in 2002 and was in the midst of writing Ett kolikbarns bekännelser, his third album that released in 2005. Nåt gammalt, nåt nytt, nåt lånat, nåt blått, a compilation of b-sides, was also released the same year. After announcing that he had become a father and planned to take a short break, he emerged with his fourth album, För sent för Edelweiss, three years later in 2008. Though his first three albums exhibited a form of potential that only arrives once every so often in Swedish pop music, Hellström’s style sounded awkward with occasionally out-of-key vocals and repetitive arrangements. However, with För sent för Edelweiss, it looks as if the skilled songwriter has finally lived up to his wholesome potential. When an artist names an album after one of their own songs in particular, the conceptual intentions of the self-titled track take on lofty expectations. When it comes to “För sent för Edelweiss”, it serves as arguably the most pleasing track on both the album and throughout Hellström’s blossoming career thus far. It features the type of melody that will cause anyone – regardless of whether they understand the Swedish lyrics or not – to grin in pure delight, with the hauntingly beautiful instrumentation contrasting impressively with Hellström’s ardent vocals. The light plucking of an acoustic guitar initially finds itself underlying a graceful piano melody as Hellström’s voice quivers over the corresponding melody. When the twinkle of a new piano melody takes charge and establishes the chorus, Hellström’s voice takes on a melodic shift and crafts a devastating hook in the process. When the track concludes with a Sigur Rós-like instrumental recap over the crooning of Hellström, it simply reminds the listener just how elegantly stunning the overall result actually is. Since the title track will generally be recognized as one of the more instrumentally subdued songs on För sent för Edelweiss, first-time listeners of the track will likely be curious as to what Hellström sounds like when accompanied by increasingly noticeable instrumental fervor. As both “Kärlek är ett Brev Skickat Tusen Gånger” and “Jag Vet Inte Vem Jag är Men jag Vet Att Jag är Din” prove, the result is actually just as satisfying. Both songs implement guitar within a style of pop that is most reminiscent of accessible indie-rock, with “Jag Vet Inte Vem Jag är Men jag Vet Att Jag är Din” especially being resounding of the sentiment with a fury of electric guitars and reflective keys. They each remain insanely catchy in their own unique ways though, with “Kärlek är ett Brev Skickat Tusen Gånger” benefiting most from the vocal correspondence between a bluesy guitar, effervescent keys, and Hellström’s impressive vocal performance. With so many great Swedish releases each year, it is quite an indicator that För sent för Edelweiss is one of this year’s best from Sweden.

Håkan Hellström – För sent för Edelweiss

Håkan Hellström – Kärlek är ett Brev Skickat Tusen Gånger

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17. Thomas Function – Celebration

It would be premature for me to judge the chemistry in Thomas Function based on their music and online photos alone, right?. It could all just be a classic attempt to sell records. Well, considering that all pictures I have found of the members together depicts them having insane amounts of fun while at parties, playing shows, and in the studio, superficial corporate achievement seems to be the last things on their mind. In fact, It leads you to believe that these guys might even be having fun while making music together. And apart from the putting the “fun” in “function”, their music plays off just as naturally. Providing heavy doses of southern-rock and folk within a consistent showing of punk, the fact that Thomas Function are able to simultaneously provide odes to energized punk greats in the vein of Television and The Buzzcocks while delivering an array of styles related to folk and contemporary rock contributes prevalently to a style that is wholesomely unique and energetically engaging. The track that brought the four-piece arguably their biggest buzz in 2007 was “Relentless Machine”, a 7″ single that now once again has appeared on their excellent debut album, Celebration. Despite offering 13 tracks that are contained within a similar delivery, the boastful amount of hooks and instrumental variations provide for a form of excitement that most debuts only dream of. “2012 Blues” was a standout immediately for me from the first listen, as its acoustical folk origins are in stark contrast to vigorous punk-oriented gems like “Snake in the Grass” and “Conspiracy of Praise”, a style that reigns over most of the album. In a track like “Can’t Say No”, where a Pixies-like bass line is adjusted accordingly over an organ-led guitar progression that provides visions of classic Television and Velvet Underground, it almost makes for a colossal fusion of great indie-rock and punk bands who have made a significant mark in the past 30 years. The infectious “Can’t Say No” may be too hectic to make such past comparisons entirely spot-on, but the melodically charged energy that Josh Macero’s vocals convey makes the mixture of modernistic enthusiasm with past forms of punk and garage-rock a very satisfying blend. As for fans of The Buzzcocks or even Wire, one listen of “Snake in the Grass” should be convincing enough. Alongside “Conspiracy of Praise” and “A Long Walk”, it employs a concisely familiar form of catchy punk without being overly aggressive or manipulative in the process. With the rhythm section constantly impressing me with its tight coordination, the excellent guitar work making the comparisons to Television even possible, and Macero’s vocals being a constant source of hooks and youthful vibrancy, Celebration packs a very powerful punch that results in it being one of this year’s most satisfying debuts.

Thomas Function – Can’t Say No

Thomas Function – 2012 Blues

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16. Beach House – Devotion

Like many of those who immediately latched onto Beach House’s fantastic self-titled debut in 2006, I kept my admiration for the release no secret. It was an atmospherically beauteous album, flawlessly transcribing humane emotions as diverse as regret, embrace, and heartbreak into a sound that was as much accessible as it was ravishing. Beach House, a two-piece based out of Baltimore consisting of guitarist/keyboardist Alex Scally and vocalist/organist Victoria Legrand, were certainly the center of attention in 2006, as their well-received debut was an album that seemed to find its way onto everyone’s year-end list (it took a respectable #37 on mine). This year, they have reclaimed that same spotlight, with an excellent second album in Devotion that proves even more fulfilling than their debut. Though it may be subtle, Beach House’s own namesake provides for a cleverly suitable effect. Alex Scally and Victoria Legrand craft a sound that ushers the listener away from the hectic rush of complex urbanity, with their style being ceaselessly relaxing without any stylistic mundaneness. Like the location depicted in their namesake, the lushly written songs provide for an escape from petty demands and harsh realities; think of Devotion as a $15, 44-minute vacation. The exquisite “D.A.R.L.I.N.G.” is reminiscent of a lost love ballad from the ’50s or ’60s. Legrand’s vocals and Scally’s guitar progressions are seemingly able to put listeners into an entrancing state, this time being aided by a guitar soaked in reverb and a set of subdued keys. As per usual, Legrand’s vocals are beautifully chilling, being airily husky but giving off a frail sense of imagery in regard to the alluring backing instrumentation. The percussive involvement is always minute, but the lack of involvement makes the delicate nature even more suitably presented in the process. Another aspect that is revived from Beach House’s debut is Legrand’s ability to create a hook using her vocal range alone. Like “D.A.R.L.I.N.G.” and the majority of Devotion, “Gila” is aided by a guitar supplemented by a mixture of keys and organs. Though the bare instrumentation is enough to solicit immediate enjoyment, the moment when Legrand shifts her vocals into a deeper, more sympathetic range by stating, “Don’t you waste your time, no-oh-oh,” it provides for an instant realization in regard to the sheer beauty that the songwriting of Beach House conveys. With songs like these, Beach House’s Devotion is an elegantly beautiful release that sees this talented duo somehow improve upon the excellence of their self-titled debut.

Beach House – D.A.R.L.I.N.G.

Beach House – Gila

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15. Department of Eagles – In Ear Park

A good majority of people have, at one point in their lives, been forced to live with someone who does not exactly coincide with their standards of life. Roommate horror stories can be as amusing as they are appalling, but everyone recognizes that it is a part of life that most unspoiled individuals have to go through in order to live without a larger financial burden. When Fred Nicolaus and Daniel Rossen were assigned by NYU as roommates in their freshman year of college in 2000, they likely went through the usual semi-awkward introductions. The first few weeks may have passed by without much chemistry, but eventually when they found a common bonding point in music, they knew that luck was on their side. After putting out three EPs and two LPs under the name of The Whitey on the Moon UK, the roommates changed their name to Department of Eagles. Their first two full-lengths, The Whitey on the Moon UK LP and The Cold Nose, saw some moderate success with a stylistic array of electronic pop and sample-based instrumentals, but critics often felt that the releases were too disjointed and cluttered to truly capture a consistent audience. Shortly after the release of The Whitey on the Moon UK LP in 2003, Rossen joined the up-and-coming Grizzly Bear as an additional songwriter and guitarist. However, the two returned to working together shortly, recruiting drummer Chris Bear and bassist Nat Baldwin earlier this year to focus on In Ear Park, the duo’s second album under Department of Eagles. While I was personally impressed with some material that Rossen and Nicolaus have collaborated on prior to In Ear Park, this album is a major stepping stone in both of their developments as songwriters. The album itself was written partly as an ode to childhood, with Rossen making it a tribute of sorts to his recently deceased father. The actual “Ear Park” is a park in Los Angeles in which Rossen and his father used to visit, a touching point of significance when the song is being played. A lo-fi charmer, the duo shuffles through a series of intricately composed guitar arpeggios as Rossen relays his tender voice through a midst of backing strings and twinkling keys. The melody and instrumental capacity is astoundingly beautiful, especially when the subject is in consideration. The following track, “No One Does It Like You”, captures the essence of ‘60s pop in extravagant form. Backing vocals are exceptional here, simultaneously adding to both the rhythm section and enthralling melody in the deep and heightened tones, respectively. “Teenagers” is another key-led spectacle that later bursts into a consuming array of subtle horns and strings, highly indicative of the duo’s impeccably placed value on songwriting and production.

Department of Eagles – No One Does It Like You

Department of Eagles – In Ear Park

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14. British Sea Power – Do You Like Rock Music?

The “sophomore slump” is a term that has been applied a countless number of times for musicians, with indie-rock artists arguably being in that recent undesirable majority. It often proves difficult to attempt to pinpoint the cause for such drop-offs in quality, though I believe much of it can be accredited to the amount of pressure an artist receives from their label, the press, and the masses of fans who follow in their every step. In regard to British Sea Power, I admit that they initially set my expectations at a nearly insurmountable high. I consider their fantastic 2003 debut, The Decline of British Sea Power, to be one of the best debuts of this decade and I continue to give it a listen every so often. After the group released their follow-up, Open Season, in 2005, I found that the result was not something I was too personally enamored with. It was not a bad follow-up by any means, just a step back in the direction that the prevalently ambitious British Sea Power intended to go. With their third album, Do You Like Rock Music?, the album’s title seems hypothetical in relation to the brilliant content it conveys. With it, I have once again regained hope that British Sea Power could indeed be one of the most inventive indie-rock bands of the decade. It all begins suitably with “All In It”, a brooding build-up where a choral vocal accompaniment sings reflectively over the steady beat of a snare drum. Once the song begins to subtly fade out and the murmur of a church organ is the only audible presence, a burst of percussion and high-pitched guitar effects collapse onto one another, creating a monumental hook that sets the tone for the rest of Do You Like Rock Music?. The brilliant “Waving Flags” is arguably the best song that British Sea Power have written since the classic “Carrion”, crafting their trademark sound of epic, guitar-oriented rock into a state of pure bliss. Once the ardently grandiose chorus kicks in, any skeptics of the Brighton-based four-piece will likely cower away. Though the structure remains more consistent and the instrumentation more simplistic, the glimmering “Canvey Island” once again finds its strength in a explosive chorus, fully cemented by a preceding verse and bridge where the murmur of strings are presented over the slight strumming of an electric guitar. Depicting the great North Sea flood of 1953, the suitably named British Sea Power carry the song in full force, touching on feelings on disastrous disbelief as Scott “Yan” Wilkinson resoundly croons, “Don’t you think its strange, you know, the way it all works out? Brace yourself for storms and summer drought.” the beautiful “No Need to Cry” rounds off the album very nicely. Being somewhat of a new approach for British Sea Power, they pull off the sympathetic throwback love ballad with ease. Wilkinson turns his vocal intensity down a notch but compensates it with a lush assortment of guitars, subdued percussion, and cooing backing vocals. Unlike the stadium-sized intensity of the choruses in excellent tracks like “Waving Flags” and “Canvey Island”, “No Need to Cry” uses a more subtle approach in being uplifted by a simplistic sprinkling of keys. Regardless, the result is stunningly beautiful when a violin cleverly emerges from the layers of delicately crafted sound during the song’s final few moments. Do You Like Rock Music? opens, continues, and concludes in the same way: with consistent quality. So, if for some reason, the question of “Do you like rock music?” remains etched in your head, it should be quite easy to answer. In regard to this specific album, the answer is an unhesitant “yes”.

British Sea Power – Waving Flags

British Sea Power – Canvey Island

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13. The Walkmen – You & Me

Whether or not The Walkmen regressed on You & Me is a topic with two sides to it. Yes, they returned to a style that was more indicative of their first two albums with a higher emphasis on heavily distorted guitars and angular vocal melodies, but there is still a glaring aspect of You & Me that separates itself from any of The Walkmen’s preceding four releases. While percussively aided keyboards were often at the forefront on Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me Is Gone and distorted guitars and yelps comprised most of Bows + Arrows, You & Me serves as arguably the most stylistically multifarious album of their commendably consistent career. Their usual use of overpowering guitars, shimmering keys, and clashing percussion is predominant, but when looking at it by a track-by-track basis it becomes evident that efforts like “On the Water” and “Red Moon” contribute to an album whose stylistic scope remains unpredictably consuming. The swirling mixture of keys and horns in “Red Moon” creates some charmingly melodic circumstances for a topic as simple as romantic longing, while the beginnings of “On the Water” invokes the same sort of exotic imagery that songwriters in the vein of Tom Waits have been so known to generate. As the rumbling of bass underlies a glistening guitar progression, singer Hamilton Leithauser concocts a series of vividly appropriate lyrics. “All the years keep rolling, the decades flying by,” he sings as the guitars pick up pace and the track reverts from a mystical bass-led enigma into a hard-rocking fury. “But ahh, the days are long.” This lyrical realization is complemented superbly by Leithauser’s uniquely invigorating howl, an aspect that is aided by instrumentation that increases in intensity as the track progresses. “Red Moon” and “On the Water” are particularly excellent usages of the band’s tendencies to use natural imagery, an effect that supplements the occasional tranquility of both tracks superbly. In terms of each individual song, the songs are not the most structurally adventurous or melodically intimidating in the band’s catalog, but other gems like the anthemic “In the New Year” and the innovative use of percussion in “Postcards From Tony Islands” should convince listeners that the five-piece have clearly succeeded in crafting one of their most fascinatingly compelling releases to date.

The Walkmen – On the Water

The Walkmen – Red Moon

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12. Wolf Parade – At Mount Zoomer

Few bands manage to be as innovative and instantaneously accessible as Wolf Parade, the acclaimed joint project of Spencer Krug and Dan Boeckner. The most impressive thing to me about the two collaborators, however, is not the infectious melodies they create or the constant critical acclaim that comes their way, but rather the stylistic transition that both are able to make seamlessly as they jump from project to project. Both have been renowned as a few of the busiest songwriters in indie-rock and their durability throughout the past several years can mainly attributed to the unique and melodically invigorating aspects that their songwriting triggers. At Mount Zoomer will hardly feel like a sophomore album to most listeners, as both Krug and Boeckner have been employing reminiscent styles in their respective projects of Sunset Rubdown and Handsome Furs ever since Wolf Parade originated. But it is also a common belief to state that Wolf Parade’s debut, Apologies to the Queen Mary, contains the most accessible material from either artist to date, an aspect that arguably derives from intentions to promote their material to a more diversified audience. Krug’s share of material on At Mount Zoomer appears most reminiscent to his work with Sunset Rubdown, with the eerily resounding flair of “Bang Your Drum” and “An Animal in Your Care” employing much of they key-oriented formula over the yelping vocals and consistently revolving song structures that made trademark Sunset Rubdown tracks so memorable. Keeping in mind that At Mount Zoomer comprises of a similar structure in that Krug and Boeckner contribute an even number of separate tracks, I am actually more impressed with Boeckner’s efforts this time around despite Krug’s showings also being expectedly strong. This can be primarily attributed to Boeckner’s increased instrumental virtuosity, as his use of keys and synths has noticeably become more prevalent. This is best evident on “Language City” and “The Grey Estates”, both tracks that utilize an array of sparkling keys in an infectious chorus that is also guided by guitars and rhythmic additives. Despite Boeckner providing for a more consistent offering of quality songwriting, Krug offers one of the best tracks in the excellent “California Dreamer”. Krug’s skills as both a songwriter and excellent keyboardist are in full display as he shifts a minimal introduction of singular keys and backing percussion into a chorus that is the most anthemic and memorable on the album. “I’ll be round, I’ll be round, I’ll be round,” he sings prior to the bridge. “Like a teenager in town where all the other young lovers are found.” It is a moment that is aided purely by the intensifying tempo of deepened keys, a technique that makes the exceptional chorus that follows even more satisfying. A few shrill chords on keys then follow as the fully bolstered rhythm section emerges for the first time. Boeckner’s “Fine Young Cannibals” also serves as a standout, mainly due to a catchy little guitar riff that manages to sound so seductively enthralling over a soulful blend of keys (à la “It’s a Curse”). As the steady delivery of a new wave-like guitar progression eases placidly over concise percussion, it takes over two minutes for the track’s greatest hook to appear. Signaled by the brisk entry of keys, a crescendo of chords flurry over the same guitar progression and intensifying quivers. Keeping in mind that a Krug-Boeckner release without some sort of epic would feel out of place, the concluding “Kissing the Beehive” makes use of both songwriter’s ability to craft alternating song structures within a familiar melody. Though the first several listen will treat nothing to the listener but a few unexpected melodic surprises, each new listen with a better comprehension of the structure provides more in terms of infectiousness and enjoyment. As that track ends, it is easy to note that Krug and Boeckner have once again collaborated for one of the most enjoyable indie-rock releases of the year.

Wolf Parade – Language City

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11. Portishead – Third

Unlike the majority of other groups during the mid ’90s in Britain, Portishead did not become legends by releasing a masterpiece or two alongside a dozen or so middling attempts at reviving glory. Instead, the trio’s status as one of the most mystifyingly ambiguous groups to have an undeniable influence on contemporary music was granted because of sheer quality, not because of an excess of tours or releases. Prior to this year’s release of Third, the group released two albums of new material in the span of 13 years. Both of them, Dummy and Portishead will forever be considered landmark achievements in the genres of trip-hop and atmospheric alternative-pop. Clearly, unless Portishead have something worth releasing, it is not going to see the light of day. This rare ideology continues with Third, an awe-inspiring release that ranks up there with the classic Dummy as being one of the most atmospherically brilliant releases of the past 20 years. Their arrangements are often initially sparse, such as in “The Rip” where only an acoustic guitar and haunting synth pad appears to back Beth Gibbons’ quivering vocals. Like many classic Portishead tracks though, the melodic and instrumental expansion of “The Rip” is what makes the group’s ingenious level of execution so irresistible. As a bassy synth arpeggio backs a lengthily stable croon from Gibbons, a simultaneous percussive ignition occurs as the track steadily fades to black. The vocally brooding nature of “Plastic” and the ethereal, guitar-based murmurs of “We Carry On” may provide indication that Third is Portishead’s least accessible album out of their three, but successive listens will reward even those who are reluctant of the trio’s atmospherically-based talents. Sure, there are less instantaneous hooks, but Third is a grower whose genius is slowly unveiled with careful audible precision. For immediate enjoyment though, a track like the appropriately titled “Machine Gun” (with its percussive bursts) and the melodically enchanting “Hunter”, the latter which proves to be one of Portishead’s most captivating efforts. Haunting is often a common word to describe Portishead’s atmospheric brilliance, and never has being haunted been so enjoyable. A sheer piece of atmospheric perfection, Third is an album to be treasured by fans of Portishead and newcomers alike.

Portishead – Hunter

Portishead – The Rip

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The post Best Albums of 2008: #20 to #11 appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.