by Lauren Tischler

The sound of Ghost Mall is indescribable. But the band, made up of college roommates Pierce, Alex, Cody, and Jimi, give it their best shot. “Garage-y ramshackle pop/ethereal,” lead singer Pierce Lightening struggles, attempting to put a label on his own music. With a lead singer named Pierce Lightening, and influences along the lines of “Babes, Springsteen, Comic Books, and Star Wars,” you are naturally drawn to the quartet. What is surprisingly more interesting than the band members themselves is the music on their first album, Goons.

The album, produced by DJ Teenwolf of Ninjasonik, features five well-done and oddly classy songs. The EP starts out with the marijuana-induced “40 Nugs”, and while I would have chosen a different track for the first, it sets an appropriate tone to the album without giving away their mysterious style. Next is “Senile Felines”, setting a dark synthesized tone that lures the listener further in. The next couple of tracks are “Young Liars”, followed by “Balloon Idea’s”, which captures an eerie essence while keeping it light; it samples a few lines from Biz Markie’s “Just a Friend” with convincing maneuvers. The final track, “Johnny Appleseed”, serves as a near-perfect ending. It is more of an anthem than anything, providing the listener with a soft sort of closure.

The album itself is a work of art, but it is clear that Ghost Mall are about performance art more than anything else. Ethan Barnett, a fan, describes a show in full detail. “The first time I saw them, it was in the basement of SUNY New Paltz. It was one of the coldest nights of that winter, but as soon as I got into the basement and Ghost Mall was about to begin their set, I began to sweat because there were about 75 people packed into a small classroom. They began their first song and the room turned into a beehive, with everyone dancing in every direction. The lead singer was lost in the crowd, and all you could see was one of his hands. By the time they began their second song, the keyboardist and guitarist were lost in the mess too. Midway through their set, Pierce was thrown up into a crowd surf, and he held onto a water pole that was soaking wet from condensation. After the final song, “Johnny Appleseed”, everyone ran out the exit covered with sweat. Head to toe.”

“I don’t know what we’re trying to achieve,” Pierce says about his band’s music. “We’re just being honest. Sometimes it’s about our specific friends, sometimes it’s about how everything should be. Mostly, our songs are about the end of the world. So maybe they’re a warning.”

You can catch Ghost Mall on September 24th at 323 Wall Street in Uptown Kingston, New York.

RIYL: Japanther, Penguin Prison, Male Bonding, Urinals, Latterman, Cloud Nothings, Abe Vigoda, Times New Viking, No Age, The Mae Shi, Parts & Labor, Psychedelic Horseshit, AIDS Wolf, Wavves, Lightning Bolt, Jay Reatard, NODZZZ, Sic Alps, HEALTH, Arab on Radar

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Ghost Mall – 40 Nugs

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Ghost Mall – Balloon Ideas

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Ghost Mall – Johnny Appleseed (acoustic version)

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Official Site

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The post Ghost Mall appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

by Josh Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Julian Shah-Tayler – Everything Is You

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Julian Shah-Tayler – Wetter

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

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Impossible Things Records

MySpace

BUY

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

Following up a feature on Damon Albarn implies a drop in quality and prestige, especially considering how few artists are able to stay relevant for over twenty years. Even if they cannot be deemed “obscure”, many figures are worth exposing regardless of their original prestige. The work they are producing is just that good. Like any new Albarn project, Paul Weller is worth listening to whenever he releases something. He is easily one of the most recognizable figures in the UK for founding The Jam, The Style Council, and the illustrious solo career that followed. Albarn and Weller are actually one of few people in this world that can compare their accomplishments, as one could easily argue that Blur’s experiences in the ’90s were very similar to those of The Jam in the late ’70s. Success nearly limited to the UK, a series of triumphs without a flop, and a distinctively British demeanor that brought them praise (even if it was somewhat isolated). It took several years before the rest of the world caught on to both The Jam and Blur, with bands like the Sex Pistols and Oasis previously overshadowing them everywhere else. The later realization was that both groups were putting forth stylistic innovation, something that their contemporaries had lacked. The Jam was later classified as the forefathers of the “Mod revival”, while Blur’s vein of Brit-pop is now widely considered to be the genre’s staple. Both of these bands impacted the music scene at different decades, but their paths ended up being very similar due to the rare talent and presence of both lead songwriters.

Although the two have never worked together, the mutual respect between Albarn and Weller seems apparent. Weller even collaborated with Albarn’s ex-Blur bandmate, Graham Coxon, on “This Old Town”, a nice single that peaked at #39 in the UK charts. Check it out here. Weller also commented on Albarn’s Mali Music by calling it “brilliant… a perfect way in to the music of Mali.” Both are hardly strangers to ambitious solo attempts in that vein, whether serving as an introduction to Mali music or a change of stylistic preference per each album. They are both renowned for mixing it up with each project, of which there are many. Albarn is already having a great year with the excellent Plastic Beach, and since they always seem to be step-for-step it is not surprising to see Weller with another solo album. His tenth studio album, Wake Up the Nation, will be released this April. Perhaps the most notable aspect upon release is that it features Bruce Foxton, former bassist of The Jam. Just like Albarn, Weller is having his own mini-reunion of sorts with his first successful band, even if this is just a one-time thing. Weller and Foxton have always had a good enough relationship, so when both lost loved ones recently they took solace in collaboration among friends. One could say it was a coping mechanism, but the result of Wake Up the Nation shows much more than an album with forced intent.

Wake Up the Nation comes with lofty expectations since it comes fresh off the massively successful release of 22 Dreams, which was Weller’s third solo album that peaked at #1. Featuring a massive 21 tracks, its consistencies were startling as it was unarguably one of the finest of Weller’s outstanding career. Even upon seeing this success though, Weller is just like Albarn in that he cannot tread in one stylistic territory too long regardless of its acclaim. While Wake Up the Nation is still distinctively a Weller solo album, it raises his intensity up a notch with a brisker and more punk-oriented sound that relies on short song lengths, spontaneous hooks, and rhythmic intensity. Unsurprisingly, the album’s collaborators already accustomed to such a sound. Foxton’s brisk bass work with The Jam is already long-renowned, and cameos from Kevin Shields (My Bloody Valentine), Bev Bevan (ELO, The Move), and drummer Clem Cattini help make this album full of imaginative and unique ideas. At the end of it all though, Weller emerges as the star presence. His successful forays into various genres foreshadow such an accomplishment before the release of each new album.

The string-laden chorus of “No Tears Left to Cry” steps back a bit from the hurried approach of its two predecessors, finding a bit of sentimental Weller shine without ruining the album’s flow. “Fast Car, Slow Traffic” has the same sort of spontaneous flow, with a sloppy dose of keys occasionally providing a nice flourish. This is quite an experimental effort considering its length, and Weller clearly has a new fascination with sampling and field sound effects that he employs well. He manages to play with this and not alter his style dramatically, once again resulting in a fresh-faced version of a nostalgic sound we already knew and loved. While those yearning for the ambitious and somewhat serene approach of 22 Dreams may be disappointed with the brisker, straightforward, and more improvisational-sounding result of Wake Up the Nation, Weller’s unique songwriting charm after several listens is precisely the same as 22 Dreams. Wake Up the Nation meshes together with songs that end before even starting, most of these entailing a very high replay value as a result. Weller flaunts some great songwriting as usual, except here it may take several listens to get it stuck in your head since the brilliant ideas feel no need to repeat themselves. With some tracks like “Grasp and Still Connect” showing strings in the chorus and others like “Wake Up the Nation” going the conventional guitar-punk route, the differences between songs are subtle upon first listen but grow rapidly since the bulk of the album features standouts.

Like all Weller albums, Wake Up the Nation should be received well. It brings us back to Weller’s phases with The Jam and early solo material, which saw shorter songs and more intensity as opposed to ambitious stylistic trips that were often extended (almost always for enjoyable purposes). While this is certainly an ambitious effort in its own right by constricting songs to under three minutes, utilizing a variety of samples, and employing improvisational spurts of keys and strings, Wake Up the Nation retains the hooks and accessible appeal necessary to retain Weller’s role as one of the most beloved musicians in the UK. It is guaranteed to chart in the UK like all other Weller albums, but I also would not be surprised if it saw some time on the US charts as well. This has some heavy art-rock, funk, and jazz influences, which I feel American audiences could be very receptive toward when incorporated with Weller’s trademark sound. Just check out the sprawling “Aim High” for such achievements in fusion. When listening to efforts like this, I just wish there were more artists like Damon Albarn and Paul Weller around. They appear stylistically fearless and ambivalent to the future, both characteristics that treat listeners to their utmost and most sincere potential.

RIYL: The Jam, The Style Council, Ocean Colour Scene, The Charlatans, Shed Seven, Ray Davies, Ian Brown, The Stone Roses, The La’s, The High Numbers, Richard Ashcroft, Hurricane #1

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Paul Weller – Aim High

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Paul Weller – Moonshine

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Paul Weller – No Tears Left to Cry

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Official Web Site

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The post Paul Weller Wakes Up the Nation 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.

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

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

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

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

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

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A Brief Smile – Bigger Lies

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A Brief Smile – Animal Magnetism

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A Brief Smile – Honeycomb Shrinking

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Official Web Site

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To say that Lymbyc Systym represent the next large movement might be an overstatement, but their methodology is certainly becoming more prevalent among emerging artists. Almost all of us can remember being enamored with a certain technological breakthrough during our childhood, from color television to smart-phones. Many young artists today can probably remember when Atari or the internet first came out, which are now regarded as a few of the first interactive technological experiences available to the general public. Growing up in the ’80s or ’90s meant having these advancements pushed in your face, whether it was the social functions of arcades or the necessity of computer skills. Interest in technology unsurprisingly peaked as a result during this time among the public, whose younger demographic grew up to be already accustomed to the technological skills that older individuals have difficulty grasping. The musicians naturally hold true to traditional theory and influences, but many also fused their tech-savvy skills into aspiring musicianship to create music that used both today’s latest technology and the influential musicians of yesterday. Lymbyc Systym, among several others, have begun using this to create a successful project by today’s standards.

Brothers Jared and Michael Bell possess the obvious modernistic edge as the founders of Lymbyc Systym, and with that they should know that glitzy production and VSTs are not going to disguise sloppy songwriting (except in the genre of trance perhaps). Luckily for their listeners, the Bell brothers are not going to overburden you with robotic tendencies. Their influences range everywhere from free-jazz to thumping indie-rock, resulting in a glistening combination of powerful musical layers and styles that could probably be classified best as post-rock. Their approach is a tad more futuristic than others in the genre though, owing more to those in the vein in The Flaming Lips and Mercury Rev instead of Mogwai or Mono; the vibe is distinctively futuristic even if electronic forces are only subtly prevalent. Possessing the orchestral beauty of Sigur Rós and versatile prose of a Broken Social Scene in one, Lymbyc Systym successfully tread the dangerous waters of loops being implemented into post-rock. Whether it is percussive horse hoofs, washes of breaking waves, or trickles of a pulsing synth, Lymbyc Systym implement it all beautifully without sacrificing the delicately authentic nature of group-based post-rock.

Lymbyc Systym’s second full-length album, Shutter Release, should open great doors for the Arizona-based brothers, much in the way Lost and Safe did for The Books in 2005. I make this reference because the two duos are currently touring together, in addition to possessing similar styles of music that must make it a treat for audiences interested in sample-supported post-rock. Note the “supported” emphasis, for neither band make an issue of overusing it and abandoning the genre’s ethics. Both groups manipulate the boundaries of post-rock and electronica, producing a mesh of madness that is often incomparable. Lymbyc Systym shows this as well as versatility; the varying tempos on the album are remarkable for its diversity, like the gradual build-up contained after the imploring brass and twinkling of keys in the self-titled effort where it explodes from delicate chamber-music to a full-blown haze of shoegaze and intensifying post-rock. The previous two genres are perfectly represented through keys and rhythm, as guitars are prominent but more in their tonal direction. Their melodic content is irrelevant but done so intentionally to ensure the diversity and authentic entertainment of the track. Listening to this one, among others on the album, a few times or so will reinforce this.

Shutter Release can sound everything from dark and brooding to effervescent and triumphant, though its main point of interest is how these moods are delivered. The swipes of keys over bursts of childish laughter in “Teddy”, the infusion of guitars and keys to create the monstrous driving melody in “Ghost Clock” before reverting into anthemic indie-rock bliss, and the pit-pattering of percussion over unfolding organs and pulsating synth chords… these are just a few of the audibly descriptive examples I can provide after listening to Shutter Release a few times. The songs are so well constructed and maneuvered that the replay value on this one is tremendous, whether you are listening for that single hook or the entire song’s cumulative value. Everything is present in these tracks, as there is so much ambition and exploration that the topic of one’s enjoyment becomes subjective in a sense. There is so much to like here that the only thing listeners have to argue over is the best moment of any track. On an album like Shutter Release with so much to admire though, it would be unjustified to choose just one.

RIYL: The Books, Broken Social Scene, Sigur Rós, This Will Destroy You, The Album Leaf, Do Make Say Think

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Lymbyc Systym – Ghost Clock

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Lymbyc Systym – Shutter Release

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Lymbyc Systym – Teddy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Surfer Blood – Take It Easy

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Surfer Blood – Harmonix

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Surfer Blood – Fast Jabroni

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Kanine Records

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When projects attempt to be conceptual in both their style and purpose, there arises a sensitive area where criticism has difficulty retreating from the subjective to the objective. What we define as “quality” is premeditated by our own personal taste and is primarily subjective, but a release can also reach a consensus of inarguable quality and influence that gravitates more toward the objective. This almost always occurs quite some time after the initial release, for the term “instant-classic” is rarely used properly and often exaggerated when done so. If you wish to listen to The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble, you are probably going to have to leave any of these subjective perceptions of quality at the door. You cannot compare anything definitive to this project, another brainchild of the ceaselessly active and multifarious Jason Köhnen. He is best known for Bong-Ra, another project of his since 1996 that has emerged as one of the most respectable sources of quality breakcore, which is basically a fancy name for industrialized techno with heavy percussion and samples at high tempos. Most of his projects possess these obnoxiously non-descriptive names like breakcore, but he is obviously not to blame. In fact, when you are as constantly innovative as Köhnen, listeners have no choice but to make up sub-genres in order to express what tickles their fancy.

It is always easy to cover an artist that fits generic words like “breezy indie-pop” or “tender acoustics”, but when using these terms without further clarification it tends to be an indicative of lacking originality. Perhaps this is why I am lost when attempting to concisely describe The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble, as their swirling assortment of influences and stylistic directions allow the listener to take a full-bodied ride into unchartered territory with touches of jazz, post-rock, electronica, and IDM without being too overwhelming. The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble formed in 2000 out of mutual admiration for silent filmmakers that used powerful music to convey raw emotion in synchronization with visual content, an interesting influence since this concept is often lost in modern film-making for special effects and generic instrumental covers. Notable influences included F.W. Murnau, Fritz Lang , and even somewhat contemporary works by the likes of Jan Švankmajer (check out his 1988 stop-motion interpretation of Alice in Wonderland for some cool stuff). The members of The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble were so enthused by the passion of these filmmakers that Köhnen and co. began composing scores to already existent films, arranging soundtracks to the classic likes of Nosferatu and Metropolis in order to hone their experience in the most unique way possible.

As a true pursuer of stylistic ambitiousness, such tactics are hardly a surprise for followers of Köhnen. There is no method or style that seems beyond his reach. Bong-Ra played with everything from dance-rave to avant-garde jazz, a feat that was diverse enough to receive acclaim from the likes of John Peel (who included him as one of the 125 best Peel sessions ever). I admittedly find breakcore to be a frustrating genre, often sounding cluttered due to repetitive tempo or lack of melody altogether, but Köhnen’s work tends to appeal more to the majority despite his distinctively avant-garde leanings. Although his layers may have occasionally been too complex or his ideas overly thematic to grasp, Bong-Ra showcased a variety of genres like hip-hop and jazz that did not abide by breakcore’s very specific classification. In comparison to this, Köhnen’s new foray with The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble is more straightforward, but also packs more of an emotional punch than any of his earlier material. Whereas his previous work would have sounded best at a rave party, this work with The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble instead sounds like the ambiance of Hades, where contemplative sorrow is displayed more than impulsive excitement. The dramatic alteration in mood is one notable aspect of the transition to Köhnen’s new project, and it is not the only one either.

The stunning parts of The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble’s third album, Here Be Dragons, are abundant, but not in the instantaneously infectious sort of way many are used to. Keep in mind that this is the same sort of stuff that World’s End Girlfriend have done so well, where full-blown orchestras combine with jazz percussion to craft audible worlds that are bleak, serene, and chilling. Too in-depth to serve as a film soundtrack, the works of these artists are often overlooked due to the sheer complexity and scope of the project. The beautiful “Embers” is one of the more concise efforts on the album, but it still builds with collapsing thunder as brass, horns, and the ghostly vocals of Charlotte Cegarra evolve into both vocal-led emissions of fury and smoothly presented saxophone solos. The diversity on tracks like these throughout the album is absolutely extraordinary, a true landmark achievement even for an artist as eclectically inclined as Köhnen. “Embers” almost has that sort of ethereal, crystal-y feel to it that is reminiscent of Air’s Moon Safari days, especially in the way Beth Hirsch sent chills up listener’s spines on “All I Need” with her fragile croon. The parallel between the somber and free-fleeting moments of “Embers” are the best parts; the brass solos and detached vocal additions are juggled masterfully.

It would be acceptable if the rest of the album sounded like “Embers”, but any fans of the Utrecht-based Köhnen know that it is his tendency to mix things up. “Sirocco” is an amiable effort with the initial giddiness of Afro-pop keys making one of those oh-so-brilliant Köhnen mood transitions. Cegarra’s vocals appear alongside the strings, which sound very thick and reverb-heavy over a haunting melody that already portrays darker elements on its own. The percussion here is certainly influenced by his earlier works, as the industrial feel is heavily prevalent in both that and the backing atmospheric pads. “Mists of Krakatoa”, while lacking the general passion of the other two tracks, is exceptional for its sheer curiosity in blending Cegarra’s operatically inclined vocals again with strings, except unlike in “Sirocco” they collide here with a piano in minor key and the backing whirring of what faintly sounds like machines at work. This is less structurally cohesive than the others, like the fantastic opener “Lead Squid” or plucked goodness of “Caravan!”, but still retains its value through innovative sophistication and cumulative emotional expression. Some tracks on Here Be Dragons may take too long in their introduction or conclusion, but in their climaxes they will convey a type of innovation and musicianship that stands out even among the avant-garde.

RIYL: World’s End Girlfriend, Portishead, the later and more experimental years of Talk Talk

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The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble – Embers

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The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble – Sirocco

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The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble – Mists of Krakatoa

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

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

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

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

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

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The Library – Tomorrow Is Better

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The Library – Wish I Knew

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The Library – The Life and Times of Rosa Lee

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

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

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

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

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

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Midnight Juggernauts – This New Technology

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Midnight Juggernauts – Fantastic Valleys

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Midnight Juggernauts – This New Technology (Emperor Machine Remix)

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