by Jay Mattson

For the Brooklyn-based band Yeasayer, success is relative. While their 2007 debut album, All Hour Cymbals, garnered critical acclaim from underground-oriented web sites, a few select periodicals and the neo-psychedelic-loving blogosphere, the album failed to receive mainstream success. This fact didn’t stop the album from appearing a number of Top 100 lists for the year, as its introspective, complex and fleshed-out mood connected to its listeners on a variety of levels.  I myself found All Hour Cymbals to be one of the most enjoyable albums from the past decade.  A little over two years later, Yeasayer has “returned” to the indie gammut with their second full-length album, Odd Blood.

While the band’s original sound was more akin to late late 60s to late 70s psychedelia, Odd Blood feels more akin to late 80s nu-wave and electro-pop, which isn’t a bad thing.  The band never totally gives themselves over to glam (as referring to the late ’80s might imply), but they come close.  This album feels like a striking mixture of acid rock and electro-dance.  One one hand, the boys have kept what made All Hour Cymbals so endearing; namely multi-layered instrumentation and Chris Keating’s warbling vocals.  On the far-reaching other hand, they have experimented with more upbeat and groove-based rhythms.  While this might sound like a radical change to Yeasayer fans of old, the new direction actually compliments the band’s style while still marking a growth for their sound in general.

“The Children” acts as the album opener and can be deceiving, as it can lead the listener to believe that this new album is merely an extension from the first record as it sparingly moves forward, an auto-tuned Keating bleating into the microphone as it sounds like electronic sludge slowly seeping down a hill.  Of course, any and all of these aforementioned thoughts are immediately stifled as the second track emerges.  “Ambling Alp” was released as a single in October of last year to frenzied fans and bloggers who had been waiting to hear what the “new Yeasayer” sounded like.  The single was an excellent indicator of Odd Blood‘s tempo, as it sets a demeanor of energy that rarely recedes as the album moves forward.  “Alp” showcases the immense strides this band has made over the past two years; soaring instrumentals, layered electronic manipulation (that never feels overdone) and lyrics that just push through the jumble of sounds.

Keating evokes Plant-esque vocals on “I Remember”, sauntering towards ethereal radiance.  Lines like “You’re stuck in my mind / All the time” compliment the haziness that accompanies minimal electronic manipulation in the background.  Arguably one of the most profound and enjoyable songs on Odd Blood is “ONE”, a dance jam that has an overarching theme of converging ideas between love and lost love.  Lyrics aside, boisterous electro-drums and marimbas (I think?) almost distract from the downtrodden tone of Keating’s words.  Beyond “The Children”, “Love Me Girl” is most reminiscent of All Hour Cymbals as it employs the choir-esque backing evident throughout the first album.  After a solid two-minute build-up, Keating finally comes to the forefront with a minimalistic, lyrics-upon-bouncing-beats rendition.  “Rome” marks the farthest point from Yeasayer’s original moods and trademark psychedelic production, opting instead for clean, sharp beats and a catchy hook that involves everyone’s favorite ancient Italian city.  What’s interesting is that while the song itself leaps forward significantly, Keating’s vocal inflections and movements feel more suited to the band’s older work.

Beginning toward the end, “Strange Reunions” reverts back to grimier, more subtle tones.  “Mondegreen” is one of my personal favorites, an ever-present horn section backing Keating works well with a chorus line of clappers and an oddly appropriate electric guitar thrown in about a minute and a half in to create an absolutely ecstatic dance track. \Odd Blood closes with “Grizelda”, closer to a fable or fairy tale than a love story (which seems to be a recurring theme over the entire ten tracks.)  Sparse pianos lead the song through existential heights that grow and grow to remind the audience that this is Yeasayer and this is their sound.

Being presented with the chance to hear Odd Blood early was exciting.  I received the album almost a month ago, but only in the past two weeks have I experienced some of my musically-inclined friends ask me “Do you know the band Yeasayer?”  It’s hard to hold back the indie-nerd inside me and not rant about their first album, Daytrotter session, inclusion on last year’s incredible Dark Was The Night compilation and so on.  Other online outlets have expressed opinions that with Odd Blood, Yeasayer is set to be 2010’s breakout indie hit, much like the success of Animal Collective, Grizzly Bear and the Dirty Projectors in 2009.  It will be interesting to watch Yeasayer’s climb to fame.  With an album as gorgeous and accessible as this, it is hard to discount these premonitions.  If the band receives as much TV airtime and blog-related fanfare as those three aforementioned bands, there is a possibility they will get bigger than any of them.

9.0/10.0

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Yeasayer – Ambling Alp

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Yeasayer – The Children

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Yeasayer – Strange Reunions

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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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We are producers. We make music for you. This is what UltraChorus convey on their web site, almost sounding like they cater to artists more than listeners in doing so. Such circumstances have the likelihood of create hazardous listening barriers, but in the realm of electronic-pop music it can actually make the process more seamless and enjoyable. Their “for-artists, by-artists” approach primarily relates to the handful of remixes the Minnesotan duo has released thus far, the artists including Phoenix, The Presets, and Daniel Merriweather to name a few. It would be easy to call UltraChorus – and other recent acts focused on remixing – a desperate plea for artistic individuality in the skewering of one’s work to compensate for your own lack of creativity, which is of course true for some. But in UltraChorus’ case, their first full-length release of original material shows how their experience with remixing contributed to an enjoyably individualistic sound that undoubtedly benefited from both practiced working and listening methods.

Electronic music, like any genre, requires practice and trial-and-error to increase one’s skill. However, considering that the genre relies on more intricate technology, one could make the argument that a melodic ear and great songwriting craft are not as prioritized as one’s technological grasp. In experimental music this can easily be the case, but when keeping in mind the implementation of pop music there remains a sense of simultaneous attentiveness that would result in generic placidity if ignored. Hot Chip, Chromeo, and Phoenix are a few examples of artists that maneuvered these waters successfully, and UltraChorus follow their footsteps in relaying a fun and infectious form of electro-pop that blends seductive R&B with tinges of art-rock and dance. This blend has been mashed together before, but UltraChorus’ prior familiarity with the practice of remixing leads to certain components that one would be hard-pressed to find in most other electronic acts. With this arises a question of whether UltraChorus or more electro-pop (Hot Chip) or art-rock (Phoenix). Perhaps certain technology at their disposal can reveal this.

Vocoders have been damned to hell by most “savvy” listeners by now. I agree with them for the most part, except when an artist executes it like UltraChorus have done on Ultra-Def. An example like this brings to mind how it is not the technology we detest that results in failures, but rather the culprits that misuse a device or method and provide it with a negative stigma. Listening to Ultra-Def in full will reveal UltraChorus as one of the good guys, using the vocoder not as a means to disguise melodic flaws but rather as a stylistic additive and songwriting tool. The opening “Scarlet Eyes” is shrouded in disco-infused bass lines and fragile piano progressions, making the vocoded element somewhat of a flash toward modernity. Like Pet Shop Boys, UltraChorus are able to turn electronic-pop into a meshing of several decades, this case being a fusion of ’70s pop and general balladry. The vocoded element is subtle and used somewhat sparingly in accordance to the track’s respective hook, and when it is utilized it provides a surprisingly refreshing take on electronic-pop without sounding too desperate for commercial attention.

Fans of the previously featured Pacific! are bound to fall in love with UltraChorus. That same sort of Swedish electro-pop wizardry with its glistening synths and heavily danceable rhythm section is prevalent, even if these two guys are from Minnesota. The same simultaneous focus on technical and pop-minded ideologies is evident though, as the diversity on Ultra-Def can show. “Bestin the Farther” tends to expand into flourishes of strings over its rigid keyboard progression; the vocoder is again featured to spice up the chorus’ emphasis on synthetic constructions. The subsequent bridge, featuring sped-up vocals over warbled synths, also tend to benefit from the device in its translation to a rhythmically complementary component. Swanky efforts like “Yucatan Peninsula” and “HouseParty5” benefit from sparse keyboard arrangements that are complemented by occasional bursts of bass, which always seems to be at its lowest tone possible. How the high pitches of twinkling synths collaborate with the lower resonates of bass is outstanding in crafting a serenely supreme atmosphere, paving the way for plenty of hooks in the process. “Hope that someday we’ll meet at that little cafe at the end of the street,” the vocals hopefully implore during the track’s final moments, attempting to make the daydream less of a dream by subsequently asking cream or sugar. The musings are simple and easy to understand, but the music resonates deeper than expected.

Although a mere three tracks are sampled here, I would strongly recommend all fans of electronic-pop to pick up Ultra-Def by Ultrachorus for the rest. What may sound like just another vocoder-aided electro-pop act will provide a treat upon extended listens. This is the rare type of pop music that emerges most prominently after familiarity reigns. Once you become accustomed to the album’s efforts, the element of predictability seems to coincide beautifully with the album’s concept of straight-laced hooks, simple-minded relations, and irresistible bouts of infectiousness. Ultra-Def is a remarkable effort by a Minnesotan duo that is poised for success.

RIYL: Pacific!, Hot Chip, Phoenix, Squeeze, Chromeo

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UltraChorus – Scarlet Eyes

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UltraChorus – HouseParty 5

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UltraChorus – Bestin the Farther

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The post UltraChorus Goes Ultra-Def appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

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

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

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

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

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

It was always interesting to me how varying generations perceive music differently. A well-written thesis or book has likely dissected this to pretentious hell already, so bear with me on this. There are too many intricacies involved to tackle this in a mere post, so I will touch upon it as concisely as I can. It is generally indisputable that a casual music fan can identify music from a specific decade as long as it abides by certain stereotypes. Certainly electronica and early bluegrass can find prevalent chronological differences based on the sophistication of their production alone, but differentiating between something like the power-pop of the ’70s and indie-rock of the ’00s is much trickier. To casual observers of music, it is not in the production or theory of the sound that arises these unavoidable comparisons, but rather what their impression of the particular decade was. One’s sociological surroundings and general upbringing has a larger influence on this than anything, with the more subtle components being the media’s role and how important that role appears to the individual. Now that commercial music is energized by bad cover versions and recycled genres, it has become increasingly difficult to separate the the present from the past. For the most part, it is like reliving past successes with all the cheesiness and without the exciting innovation. No wonder today’s music media is targeted largely at teens that know little more than what is put in front of them. The parents and older generations that have already heard it in a fresher, less manipulative, and more groundbreaking way years ago still have their vinyls, right?

Perhaps I am harsher of commercial music than I should be, but the pop music in mainstream America today seems to either directly imitate the boy-band craze of the ’90s or resort to re-workings of lost classics from decades ago. The lack of evolution from profitable pop artists of the ’90s to ’00s is alarming to me, and I am not even analyzing the quality of songwriting or production. That remains similar (poor to average). What surprises me is the hesitation to stylistically innovate or even incorporate in the mainstream media, an arguable reflection of longstanding political beliefs and rigid sociological systems. If there is one beneficial thing about all this dull consistency though, it is when an artist emerges and appears like a blast from the past without the pathetic indulgence of marketing potential. Like the artists of yesterday that continue to be imitated, both subtly and prevalently, they appear as a breath of fresh air. Only this time, it is amidst chaos that these older artists may not be familiar with. Like many others on this site, I believe The Wiyos to be one of them. And it is not just because they beautifully interpret a style that many associate with the past. Their ideology is one of tradition and old-fashioned integrity, two elements that integrate themselves into their music.

The four members in The Wiyos can be found enjoying silent films and playing instruments without an amplifier, all dressed in suits that expose little more than a nostalgic mystique. They look as if they just stepped out of Doc Brown’s time machine, enjoying the attempt to collaborate the past and present. In fact, they themselves clarify that anything from the early 20th century tickles their fancy, particularly the styles of music that grew and flourished in that era. Ragtime and piedmont blues, both noted for their melodically syncopated approach and historical importance, are their two prominent influences. Both relied on barren instrumentation and accompaniment, but both the passion of the performers and syncopated unpredictability of the rhythm and driving melodic soul led the types to extreme popularity during their heydays in the early and mid ’20s. Piedmont blues’ use of ragtime hardly makes it relevant in today’s realm of contrary rock ‘n’ roll and pop music, but Americana and rockabilly owe quite a debt to its rhythmic syncopation. This is perhaps why it would be so easy to group The Wiyos in with all the other Americana artists. Not so fast though. Unlike many contemporaries, the Brooklyn four-piece appear more authentic in their approach. Instead of tackling the genre in a song or two, they devote their craft to it, seeking to innovate and touch upon the past without imitating the legends of the past. It is an ideology that today’s artists could benefit from.

In addition to gaining a prominent fanbase by touring seven counties are crossing a supposed 400,000 miles throughout their five-year existence, The Wiyos have now released one of the most fascinating albums of the year in Broken Land Bell. Their fourth album shows The Wiyos did not name their band after a 19th century street gang for any old reason; they pack the same collaboratively brilliant punch as any successful working group of the past. The musicianship is astoundingly tight, steered by a stylistic direction that few, if any, of today’s bands can even attempt, nonetheless pull of successfully. While not the most technically startling piece on the album, “Promenade” is one of the more accessible efforts in exposing a style that many classify as “outdated”. To spice things up a bit, the boys integrate a barber-shop duet sort of feel with an array of accompanying instruments, specifically in the vein of harmonicas and brass. Banjos and upright bass stay on the conventional course, but all the instrumentation is highly impressive and even those not familiar with the genre should find themselves enthralled instantaneously by the nostalgic embrace with occasional reminders of contemporary placement. “Stomp” provides some great diversity in the rhythm section, particularly in the contrast between the bass’ support of solely a banjo and the entire assortment of instruments. The lull in the middle of the track allows the latter half to pack an even bigger punch, a build-up technique used in several of the songs on Broken Land Bell. Oh yeah, the incorporation of beat-boxing on this track and throughout the album is something special and entirely original. It is startling how many hooks it accounts for.

“Redbird” sits alone on the album as something contrary to the album’s general stylistic presentation, allowing a more fluid form of melancholic form of folk to emerge. The vocals are more subdued and the accompaniments more barren, but the emotional vulnerability is even heavier. When the acoustic guitar emerges in its brooding tone, The Wiyos’ emotional sincerity is even more thoroughly established. Most of The Wiyo’s most prominent influences were physically dead before they were born, but these guys do great justice in exposing an important style of music in a polished and contemporary form, prompting today’s listeners to expand their horizons and become acquainted with their favorite artists’ own influences.

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The Wiyos – Promenade

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The Wiyos – Redbird

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The Wiyos – Stomp

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The post The Wiyos Ring the Broken Land Bell appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

When synth-pop was first glorified in the late ‘70s, it was a musical breakthrough in a more than one way. Its introductory development was more dramatic than most of its stylistic predecessors, as an entirely new emphasis on certain instrumentation and methods of production arose when technology began to integrate itself into the typical structure of a band. Decades have always come to represent specific styles of music, and while the transition from the British invasion to experimentation within psychedelia and rock in the ‘60s and ‘70s had an undeniable impact, there was little major alteration in the instrumentation used and the general presentation of a “quality” song. Synth-pop’s introduction was quite an interesting development in the music world, as the style seemed to borrow fashionable elements from glam and pop music while relying heavily on a synthesized sound that was previously withheld from most listeners that used conventional radio to satiate their musical needs. The songs were hardly complex, and often more simplistic than the experimentalism in the ‘70s, but it hardly mattered. As one could tell by looking at most aspects of pop culture in the ’80s, style reigned in this decade. In present time, what remains interesting about this period is its effect on contemporary music and the new styles that have originated from it.

Now that sampling, vocal alteration, and most elements of electronic music are accessible to most of those with a computer, many with a talent for songwriting have at least attempted to incorporate similar aspects into their sound. The challenge here, though, is striving to sound innovative without being too caught up in the past (which almost always results in a detrimental cliché). Some groups like Cut Copy have incorporated elements of modernistic indie-rock into a sparkling array of synths, while others like M83 have chosen to evoke pure nostalgia with their blissful interpretations of synth-charged ‘80s romance. Choosing this method of electronic implementation is extraordinarily influential on an artist’s success, as there is rarely a line in this practice between immense stylistic success and embarrassing imitations. This great divide was not prevalent when synth-pop first emerged, but now that the genre has been heavily utilized there are fewer ideas that listeners have not heard. With this in mind, when I come across a contemporary electronic artist that does not stray too far from the basics of the style’s instrumental and structural approach, I tend to magnify some things. When a style that has been prominent for several decades is being used by an artist, their songwriting now becomes the most vital element of their potential success.

Unlike artists like LCD Soundsystem, Cut Copy, and Chromeo that blend elements of contemporary indie-rock or hip-hop over tinges of ‘80s synth-pop goodness, Tesla Boy are straightforward throwbacks that have already proven their ability in being one of the only current acts that can sound directly out of the ‘80s with no modernistic touches or technological advances. They successfully create pure synth-pop that reaps from an endless stream of hooks and monumental build-ups. On their debuting and self-titled EP, the Russian trio crafts an ingenious mixture of interwoven Eurodisco synth lines, glittering keys, and a ceaselessly active rhythm section. These are all complemented by Anton Sevidov, whose vocals encompass the stylishly European demeanor of synth-pop’s heyday. The trio is somehow able to come across as a fusion of Depeche Mode, Erasure, and Pet Shop Boys without sounding like they borrowed any primary ideas at all. Considering their style is undoubtedly within the same realm, most of this can be traced to Tesla Boy’s stellar songwriting and sharp production. “Spirit of the Night” should be a surefire hit with its energetic display of alternating arpeggios and twinkling keys, led by an irresistible chorus that finds Sevidov’s vocals and a newly accompanying synth line crafting an ingeniously gripping moment that can serve to epitomize the trio’s potential and ability to craft hooks.

Ah yes, the hooks. Where would synth-pop be without them? It is clearly an aspect that Tesla Boy value considerably, as is shown on the five tracks on the Tesla Boy EP. “Spirit of the Night” shows their chops well with its integration of synths that stretch from both sides of the range spectrum, concluded by an elegant synth progression that is perfectly backed by a bustling plethora of alternating chords that align appropriately to each melodic transition. Another single-worthy effort, “Electric Lady”, contains as much energy as the Hendrix album it took its name from. Compared to the somewhat developmental nature of “Spirit of the Night”, “Electric Lady” takes no time in propelling Tesla Boy to the pinnacle of synth-pop and dance, with the latter reigning quite supremely here. A series of quickly paced high-pitched keys establish the basic melody like most of Tesla Boy’s songs, but the subtle additions within an already contagious melody makes this and “Spirit of the Night” supremely infectious efforts. If released in the ‘80s, success would be imminent. As for now though, this trio has enough songwriting chops to reach a degree of success that should have all fans of electronic pop excited and familiar with the Russian trio whose apparent time machine has helped them create some of the most exciting electronic music of the year thus far.

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Tesla Boy – Spirit of the Night

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Tesla Boy – Electric Lady

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Tesla Boy – Fire

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When the time occurs in which technology overtakes many basic human functions and automation becomes a habit, many futurists claim that we will revert into something of a “leisure society”. John Maynard Keynes, one of the forefathers of macroeconomics, projected that most modernized countries would see a decrease in work time and an increase in leisure time, so much that in 2030 we would have more days off than at work. “We shall do more things for ourselves than is usual with the rich to-day,” he wrote in an essay from 1930, “only too glad to have small duties and tasks and routines.” As glorious as a four or five-day weekend sounds though, the chances of this arising within 25 years are quite marginal. Critics claim that Keynes failed to account for people’s relative needs, which are things that people want but are not required to have. Someone could likely live a similar lifestyle from working only three or four days per week now, but it would be very doubtful that they would have the extra expenses to buy things like iPods, stereos, and other products that are nice but not necessary. Also, in our current economic situation, there are people that would gladly take up a well-paying occupation that requires five or six days per week. This “leisure society” seems farther away than when Keynes first envisioned it, but that does not mean that some people cannot yearn for it through artistic means.

This background information can certainly be useful for discovering the origins of The Leisure Society’s name, but what it does more importantly is assist in identifying their desired sound and how they achieve it so successfully. Perhaps the group says it best in their own words, clarifying that “they strive for a time of relaxation through automation, for a moment when they can hold their table tennis bats aloft and salute modernity”. Much like Keynes, their desire for a world in which people are judged by their qualitative actions and not by how long they sit in a cubicle is prevalent. Whether one is best judged by what they do in their free time or how well they perform in a menial occupational task is an argument that cannot be won due to subjectivity. It is also an argument that everyone from economists to philosophers can jump into. As for the boys of The Leisure Society, they present their ideology quite clearly. Through glimpses of luxurious chamber-pop and melodic folk music, they present listeners with a ceaselessly soothing style that is made memorable by lead vocalist Nick Hemming’s delicate voice and naturally infectious songwriting. Simplicity is a concept that The Leisure Society proclaim throughout the album, both in their charming songwriting and lyrical content. Whether they sing of yearning for the days when “life was so much simpler” in “Love’s Enormous Wings” or the overemphasis on assigned tasks in “A Short Weekend Begins With Longing”, it is evident that this British collective value enjoyment through the simple things in life, those in which people often overlook because of demanding schedules and occupational conformity.

“Turned into stone, all the people they had known,” Hemming sings on the effervescent, string-led “A Short Weekend Begins With Longing”. “Lost on their way through a world of blank expression,” he continues. “No one made the time, everybody had their reasons.” The lines seems conventional enough under the caressing strings and gently plucked acoustic guitars, but for Hemming it is a summation of the album’s thematic approach. As they attempt to define the separation between work and leisure time (weekdays and weekends), it is impossible to avoid the sheer charm of The Leisure Society’s songwriting and general stylistic approach. What they have done so effectively is mix stellar orchestration with compatible lyrical sentiments to create an album that reaps from cohesion, resulting in a perfect mood piece. Abrasiveness is not found on one note throughout the 11 tracks on their debuting The Sleeper, showcasing the meticulous craftwork of Hemming’s songwriting. Chamber-pop may be the most readily available genre to clump this one into, but an additional emphasis on folk, country, and pop makes attempting to singularly classifying The Sleeper a futile effort. Though the lyrical focus, structural tendencies, and choice of instrumentation is consistent, longtime fans of Hemming should be hardly surprised that he has offered up enough variety to excite listeners. After all, The Leisure Society’s frontman has been around for quite awhile, and this looks to be just the thing that will lead to his recognition beyond the island of Great Britain.

Even though his best days are still ahead of him, the story of Hemming’s career is quite an interesting one. His first project was an indie-rock group by the name of She Talks to Angels, a short-lived outfit that lasted from 1990 to 1993. The interesting thing is that it featured actor/director Paddy Considine and director Shane Meadows before they became stars in the UK. Considine has starred in a few great movies like In America while being featured prominently in films like Hot Fuzz and The Bourne Ultimatum, while Meadows is considered one of the most promising directors in the UK after directing the already cult-classic Dead Man’s Shoes and the universally acclaimed This Is England. The demise of She Talks to Angels was rooted in both of their desires to pursue film, a belief that proved to benefit both of them and Hemming in the process. Since they were former bandmates, Meadows let Hemming write the music for two of his films, A Room for Romeo Brass and Dead Man’s Shoes. After spending some time in the ’90s with bands like The Telescopes and Unisex, he began constructing the initial stages of The Leisure Society. The group’s debut single, “The Last of the Melting Snow”, was released this past December to a warm reception among British radio shows. The second single, “A Matter of Time”, will be released on March 16th, precisely one week before the release of the album itself, The Sleeper.

While The Sleeper offers plenty of memorable songs, the one that most immediately captivated me was “Love’s Enormous Wings”. The bare effort of a ukulele eventually finds itself complemented by an upright bass, woodwinds, and sparkling keys, paving the way for the song’s excellent development. The melody tends to repeat itself throughout the entire track, with the instrumental additions of a new string arrangement or woodwind accompaniment establishing the subtle melodic alterations. Considering that it is so beautiful though, it is hard to complain. Hemming’s vocals carry this one with extravagance and bliss. “Oh, once life was so much simpler,” he sings. “I had a heart, she owns it now. I’ll get it back some day.” The lyrical tone is melancholic and reflective, but the arrangement suggests otherwise in its briskly infectious delivery. If anything, the track perfectly summarizes how The Leisure Society are able to craft beautiful gems using little more than conventional structures and highly melodic instrumentation. Well, let us not forget Hemming’s stellar songwriting as well. On The Sleeper, all of these forms are showcased in an accessible and memorable manner that should have listeners coming back for more, whether they are in the middle of a workday or just beginning a weekend. The Leisure Society fit nicely on both occasions, even if they tend to be partial to the latter.

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The Leisure Society – Love’s Enormous Wings

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The Leisure Society – A Short Weekend Begins with Longing

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The Leisure Society – The Last of the Melting Snow

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

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

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

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

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

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The Harpeth Trace – Dead Eyes

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The Harpeth Trace – Georgia May

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The Harpeth Trace – Who Knows Where You Are

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I do hope to travel across a wide variety of locations one day, but as a middle-class college student I understand that my resources are somewhat limited. That being said, it is a common process for me to singularly identify certain cities based on the musicians who originate from there. You can call it the result of ignorance from a young inexperienced traveler or simply the product of someone who loves music to death, but I have to say that the result is almost always complementary. After all, how else would those not too keen on geography or history identify some of the world’s more bustling and artistically productive areas? Montreal is by no means an unidentifiable city as the second-largest city in Canada, but the prosperous amount of musical activity has certainly brought more attention to the area as a ceaseless hotspot for artists who defy all stylistic and cultural boundaries. From commonly identifiable contemporary acts like Arcade Fire and Wolf Parade to legendary artists like Leonard Cohen who your parents (and hopefully you as well) can identify with, the city has been producing worthwhile artists for decades. That being said, there is little to question in whether or not one of the latest Montreal-based groups, Winter Gloves, have enough of an audience to gain exposure, as they have captured the attention of a city who is used to nothing but the utmost quality in independent music.

Capitalizing on a commonly receptive form of integrated indie-rock and synth-pop that has seen local contemporaries like Stars and Chromeo, go on to national success, Winter Gloves refine their approach by being neither intimidating nor overly aggressive. With ambitiously modernistic minds like Spencer Krug also hailing from the same city, their songs are not even remotely the most complex or intricate pieces to hail from Montreal, but the four-piece are able to emit a form of convincing infectiousness that makes their success appear nearly imminent. In support of their recently released debut album, About a Girl, they are currently wrapping up a Canadian tour that has earned them both hot press and a budding fan base. Prior to this release, however, they put out an EP, Let Me Drive, that primarily consisted of frontman Charles F.’s solo musings. Winter Gloves itself was originally intended to be a solo side project for Charles, but he found the life of a solo musician to be too restrictive for his taste. “When you record everything yourself and then you listen back to the CD, everything is a bit boring,” he said in an interview. “It’s like a talent show for you.” Seeking both an outlet for constructive criticism and stylistic expansion, the search for the proper musicians proved easy for the native of Quebec City when he returned to his native roots.

After he had spent one year overseas in Britain and had gotten a bit bored of the straightforward art-rock infesting the likes of NME, Charles F. relocated back to Montreal in hopes of gathering some like-minded musicians to complete the process of finalizing Winter Groves. First, he looked toward Vincent Chalifour, a friend who had helped him mix the debut EP. After Chalifour’s quick agreement, the two then connected with collaborators Patrick Sayers and Jean-Michel Pigeon, completing the four-piece. First, he looked toward Vincent Chalifour, a friend who had helped him mix the debut EP. Off the heat of the EP alone, the group began touring with the likes of Tokyo Police Club and Jealous Girlfriends despite not being signed to a label at the time. The critical acclaim for both their EP and live shows sent labels a knocking though, and the Toronto-based Paper Bag Records swooped Winter Gloves in anticipation for the release of About a Girl. Now on the same label with the likes of The Acorn, Tokyo Police Club, Sally Shapiro, and Stars, they look to fit well among a group of excellent songwriters and performers that capitalize in a variety of original hooks and multifarious stylistic tendencies.

Although the longest track on About a Girl is no longer than four minutes, this works to the group’s advantage in regard to their stylistic preference. For most of the tracks, if they were any longer then they would overstay their welcome, mainly due to an instrumental focus on keyboards and synths that remains consistently accessible. “I Can’t Tell You” is a fine example of their key-driven sound, often backed by a revolving array of warbling synths and a very brisk rhythm section that can be surprisingly and efficiently complex in specified areas. This is found accordingly in the chorus of “I Can’t Tell You”, where a series of twinkling synths further supplement a repeated key progression as Charles’ vocals change pitch from a series of half-spoken verses to a falsetto-aided bridge. His dynamic range allows the arrangements to flourish abundantly, perhaps overshadowing any simplistic melodic aspects that may turn off some listeners. The opener, “Factories”, is more demonstrative of their enthusiastic nature. In contrast to “I Can’t Tell You”, the track is a constant whirlwind of energy that sees a guitar arpeggio complement an already engaged series of synth lines. The lyrics are generally nonexistent during this section, as Charles opts for a melodic croon that sees his vocals substitute for any extraneous instrumental accompaniments.

I suppose you could make comparisons to a handful of Wolf Parade’s more accessible tracks – “Fancy Claps” or “Modern World” – on a track like “Let Me Drive”, though the structure without being all too predictable. The implementation of handclaps over the building bass line adds to the songs immensely, adding a sense of anticipation that should find the listener in a state of appeasement when the track reaches its conclusion. Overall, About a Girl is not the most intricately resounding thing to come out of Montreal, but it is certainly some of the catchiest material from the city I have heard so far this year.

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Winter Gloves – I Can’t Tell You

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Winter Gloves – Factories

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Winter Gloves – Let Me Drive

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Paper Bag Records

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The aspect of collaboration can be a touchy subject for some artists. Some prefer to languish in their own solitude, crafting songs that are entirely their own with little to no help outside the spectrum of production and mastering. Others, however, discover that pushing the boundaries to make their music as fulfilling as possible may involve bringing in a helping hand or two, even if a bit of individuality is sacrificed in the process. Perhaps it speaks to his level of experience, but Vic Chesnutt has been known throughout his prolific career as a songwriter and performer to show no reluctance in enlisting other talented individuals to supplement his own material in complementary form, all while maintaining his large doses of originality and commitment. As someone who has worked periodically with the likes of Michael Stipe, Emmylou Harris, Lambchop, and Bill Frisell, it appears as if he has also had access to some of the best in the biz ever since he surfaced in 1990 with his debut album, Little. That album, along with its follow-up West of Rome, was produced by Stipe, a native of Georgia along with Chesnutt. Following the two’s first meeting during one of Chesnutt’s solo shows in the late ‘80s, Stipe had encouraged him to lay his tracks down on tape after being impressed with his initial offering. Now, after over a dozen releases and 18 years later, he is one of the most respected songwriters to come out of Georgia.

I am sure that many of you may regard any “one of the most respected” tags with little merit, as a statement like that often comes off too subjectively to be held with much regard. So, in this case, I will just let the artists do the talking. I understand that the concept of a cover album has been debated over tirelessly in the past, but when the proceeds go to a great cause, what wrong is there in it? When artists like R.E.M., The Smashing Pumpkins, Garbage, and even Madonna contributed toward the cover album, Sweet Relief II: Gravity of the Situation in 1996, all proceeds went to the Sweet Relief Fund, a non-profit charity that aids professional musicians who are in dire need of medical care. As for the songs they were covering, it was none other than the material of Vic Chesnutt. Now, here were a few of the most popular artists in the world at the time – R.E.M., The Smashing Pumpkins, Hootie & the Blowfish, Madonna – covering Chesnutt’s songs in the midst of their prime; it was a grand gesture that signified both their respect for the person and musician that Chesnutt is. Paralyzed from the waist down since the age of 18 when a tragic car accident occurred, it brought awareness to both the struggles of medical care and the brilliance of Chesnutt’s songwriting.

Considering that such respective artists contributed toward the cover album in the mid ‘90s, a period when they were literally selling out arenas, it simply proved from a musician’s perspective that Chesnutt was the real deal. They needed little in the form of financial compensation or recognition; their desire was to simply expose Chesnutt’s work to their own broader masses of fans. The cover album was released during an appropriate period as well, as About to Choke, his fifth solo album, was released the same year to arguably his most prevalent form of critical acclaim yet, undoubtedly also aided by the fact that he was now on a major label (Capitol Records). His 1998 follow-up, The Salesman and Bernadette, saw a similar reception, with tinges of soul and jazz being highlighted by an expansive horn section (complementary of Lambchop) that contrasted excellently with his usual fare of poetic country-rock and folk. As is often the case with creative independent artists, a lack of sales caused Capitol to drop him. This was hardly discouraging to him though, as he quickly found a new label and proceeded to release six excellent albums throughout the following eight years. To be honest, with the new release of Dark Developments included, Chesnutt has put out 12 solo albums and not one is even slightly disappointing.

For his newest and twelfth solo release, Dark Developments, Chesnutt has once again teamed up with a talented collective of musicians to further supplement his continuously invigorating material. This time, it happens to also be in the hands of E6 favorites Elf Power, a group that hails from Athens, Georgia, just like Chesnutt. Alongside guitarist Curtiss Pernice, the seven-piece resumes their normal instrumental displays on an album that proves to showcase more captivating songwriting from the storied Vic Chesnutt. Though many songs like “And How” and “Teddy Bear” remain accessible with their conventional structures, all maintain a sense of ambition that is prevalent in the melodic shifts and ambiguously provoking lyrical content that Chesnutt is able to convey. “And Now” is a fun pop-laden effort that sees a remarkable melodic transition around the 01:30 mark with a twinkle of keys and the slight undercurrent of a trombone. “Who, what, why, where, and when?” Chesnutt asks as the track reaches its conclusion, questions that are likely to be asked if his vaguely incorporated lyrics are attempted to be investigated. “Teddy Bear” toys around with a slight reggae progression to establish one of the catchier efforts on the album, complemented superbly by the whirring of Laura Carter’s trademark Moog as Chesnutt repeats “he ain’t never coming back” before a beautiful guitar bridge occurs. From the haunting 7-minute epic “Phil the Fiddler” to the eerie harmonica-led ballad of “Mystery”, Dark Developments is yet another stroke of brilliance within the ceaselessly growing discography of Vic Chesnutt.

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Vic Chesnutt – And Now

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Vic Chesnutt – Mystery

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Vic Chesnutt – Teddy Bear

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