by Matt Keefer

Frontman Wayne Coyne approaches the tour at his own pace.

Few could predict that an indie punk group from Oklahoma City would have such an innovative presence in the music world. At 49, Wayne Coyne and his quartet of space-a-delic freaks, including bassist Michael Ivins and drummers Steven Drozd and Kliph Scurlock, have earned a Grammy, covered Pink Floyd’s “The Dark Side of the Moon” in its entirety, and toured relentlessly across the world. Currently on tour for their first double-album Embryonic (excluding Zaireeka, their 1997 four-album experiment), the self-deprecating Coyne delivers about the not-so-glamorous side of touring, as well as about future projects.

Matt Keefer: Thanks for your time. Do you mind if I record the interview?

Wayne Coyne: Sure. I don’t expect you to write it all down and remember it. I’m not doubting your ability to remember, but, see, I just talk. It might be a lot easier for you to say, ‘Nah, that fucker goes on too long.’

M: At 27, being 49 seems like a long way to travel.

WC: I remember when I was 27, I would think about someone who’s almost 50 years old: ‘Dude, are you alright?’ I don’t ever get the feeling that I’m any different. It’s only when I look in the mirror sometimes that I think, “oh wow, I look like a weird old guy.” I don’t feel different to myself. It’s a strange phenomenon.

M: How’s your tour for Embryonic going so far?

WC: We’re never really on tour for very long. We’ll go out for maybe about ten days, play some shows, then we’ll go home for ten days… we’re always doing everything at the same time. Since we’re playing some shows in the summertime, you always run into other groups, and we ran into a group, Trombone Shorty, just last night. They’re almost into their third consecutive month of playing. That can beat you down. I already did that several times – when I was your age – and it can be such a mind-fuck, you’re so torn away from your life that you’re trying to build, the people that you knew. Like I said, I’m 49 years old, and the other guys, they’re not as old as me, but they’re not in their early 20s. I think they don’t want to be taken away from their families and their lives for that long. And you can almost go endlessly the way we’re going. You can almost never stop, because we’re going full-time. Doing the Flaming Lips tour is kind of like working at Target: it just kinda is. It’s not too hard, you just get up and go to work.

M: I know some musicians that have kids, and touring must be rough on them.

WC: Especially for musicians. The reason I say musicians is that they have a sensitivity about them, or they probably wouldn’t like music. And all these things that play into human dramas and emotions are just a little bit more, either enjoyable, or a little bit more painful. Sometimes I think groups try to say ‘we’re going to play for six months straight,’ and then take three years off. You know, that’s easy to say, but a lot of things happen to people in six months that you cannot reverse. Especially if you have young children. Six months, they’ll be completely different little creatures by then. We don’t want that. We want to make our music, do our performances, do all these things because we love what we do, not put one thing that we love on hold so we can have another. We want to have it all at the same time.

M: On the positive aspect of that, do you have any good tour stories?

WC: (Laughs) I don’t know, a lot of times there’s not that much crazy shit going on. When we played at Bonnaroo about a month ago, you play into the night pretty long, and there’s a lot of young people there that are doing drugs and stuff. So those [gigs] always play more into the good old rock and roll stories. After we got done, it was about ten minutes after three in the morning, I went over to the LCD Soundsystem stage, where they had just started their set – and I sort of Tweeted about it the day afterward – but this big, naked guy sort of attacked the stage.  Me and, what’s this comedian’s name, Aziz Ansari? – this giant, freaked-out naked guy, had to be doing some acid or something, simply attacked the stage, and we sort of had to hold him down until the security guards could take him away. It was a very strange, charged moment, where that doesn’t happen to you every day. You know, where you’re suddenly assailed by a 300-pound, naked guy, and he’s all sweaty and he’s drenched. That’s probably the last phenomenal rock-and-roll moment that happened to us.

M: I guess at that moment you’re glad that you pump iron five times a week.

WC: I don’t do that much, but I do yoga almost every day. So, yeah, you’re glad that you have energy and you can react and you don’t feel intimidated. I know you’re saying that jokingly, but I mean it. To be in a group, and to do all these things; you wouldn’t want to do it if you don’t have a lot of enthusiasm. So yeah, I jumped right to task. We didn’t really want to. The guy was very strong but he was pretty slippery, because he was so sweaty. The slipperiness made it impossible to grab him. It’s a good trick. If you’re ever going to run from the cops, strip yourself naked and be slippery.

M: Sure. I should probably carry some cans of grease, too.

WC: (Pauses) Then their only solution is to tase you.

M: You’ve also toured Europe and around the world. Any places you’ve enjoyed outside of the US?

WC: It’s all pretty great when you’re a group like the Flaming Lips. Most everywhere that we would go nowadays, we’re invited to play by a group of enthusiastic ‘freaks.’ We just recently went to Croatia, and we played the Glastonbury Festival (in UK) and got to see Snoop Dogg, meet Mick Jones from the Clash. Hang out with Damien Hirst. There’s a lot of great things that can happen to you simply because you’re just traveling the world all the time. But the other side of it is that you spend a lot of time in airports and on airplanes. Sometimes you get done playing at two-o-clock in the morning, and you have to get to the airport at four-o-clock in the morning. Running from one show to the next, everything is ‘hurry hurry hurry’ all the time. Sometimes I think it’s too many experiences. It’d be like having to eat twenty meals in one day. There’s just no way you can enjoy all the things that are happening.

M: Do you have anything new on the horizon?

WC: We’re always – I don’t know if ‘contemplating’ is the right word – but you’re always considering new musical ideas, new things that you want to play into. We’re always doing little movies and little videos. I just shot an ending of a video for a song on Embryonic called “See the Leaves”. We were shooting this guy on the north side of Oklahoma City who has a big acreage where he’s burning a bunch of his brush that he had chopped down. So we saw this giant fucking bonfire. We shot for an ongoing piece in our storyboard there. So it’s always a kind of combination of everything: new music, and new movies, new videos, new things for our website, new toys, new t-shirts. Everything is a Flaming Lips creation. The great range of things that you can do readjusts your focus on music.

M: Last question: Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs made a brief appearance as a frog on Embryonic.  Would you consider a fuller collaboration with her?

WC: These are definitely collaborations of a sort. I don’t know. For me, I’m more comfortable doing these types of collaborations, where I have the song written, and I have the arrangement, and I just simply call Karen and say ‘All you have to do is be you, and I’ll do all the work.’ A lot of artists don’t really want to collaborate in the sense that people think they do. The art is a lot of times just made very intensely. You simply say, ‘I like this and I don’t care what you think.’ That is in a lot of ways how art is made. And when you’re collaborating with someone that you love and admire, the way that I was working with Karen O, it’s not so much a collaboration, as it’s me giving her a format for her to be her pure self. And that’s different than us writing a song or writing lyrics or writing an arrangement together. So, I don’t know. If whoever called me up and said, ‘Hey, do you want to do this,’ I would always be open for it. I’m open to new experiences and new failures or successes. But I could understand how a lot of people wouldn’t be. It’s nerve-wracking; it’s not always very pleasant. I try to make ours as easy, as quick, and as pleasant as possible. They simply can do this little thing, and be part of this bigger thing. That’s why most artists would want to do it in that way, more than a ‘Hey Henry (Rollins), why don’t you write a song today?’ A lot of people will do that to us. I’ll say ‘not really, but I will, if that’s what we’re doing.’

M: You’re definitely right: you talk a lot. But it works with interviews.

WC: (Laughs) I know I paint it like it’s going to be torture, but I’m trying to give you as much a lay of thinking about me as you can. Make me sound cool.

The Flaming Lips will be playing on 10/10 in Austin, TX. You can buy tickets here.

The Flaming Lips – Race for the Prize

The Flaming Lips – Fight Test

The Flaming Lips – It’s Summertime

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I am interested to see what this decade brings to Swedish pop music. One would be hesitant to call the ’00s a moment of global emergence for the movement, especially considering that the country has been generating quality music already for several decades. Its separable status in Western pop music is indicative of its special place though, as additional genres in pop music relative to a geographical location are often reserved for countries farther east (in other words, those eligible for the “exotic” tag). This past decade was special for Swedish pop music because it made the movement audibly identifiable, or at least open to close guesswork. That no accents or geographical quirks were present made the identification process even more impressive. Of course this does not apply to all Swedish pop artists, but certain stylistic fixtures were present and enabled many Swedish artists to find a common ground despite vast creative differences. Whether they complied with lavish string accompaniments (ABBA), awe-inspiring use of electronics (The Knife), or good old-fashioned pop music (Jens Lekman) did not matter. Gothenburg alone had Jens Lekman, The Tough Alliance, and José González to its name this past decade, and each major Swedish city seems to boast a comparable list of native sons and daughters. The Swedes may be spoiled with tons of great live music as a result, but their non-reluctance to share it with the rest of the world is the primary cause for this recent surge in recognition.

For a contemporary pop musician, to come out of Gothenburg these days must be the equivalent of trying to make it in Brooklyn. There are simply too many renowned hometown acts, and whether they make the big-time or not is fairly irrelevant. Some artists are perfectly content in being a staple of their respective locale, with the opportunity for people to listen and applause being enough motivation to continue their artistic exploits. I briefly covered this over-saturation of talent within a locale in my Kordan feature last year (in regard to Brooklyn), and a very similar case can be made for Sambassadeur. Swedes and Brooklynites share a mutual critique of sorts since they are accustomed to simply walking outside and hearing great music. So, how the hell are artists supposed to get noticed if every potential listener is a staunch critic? Good music, perhaps. Like thrusting oneself into a top-level sport, the constant competition improves one’s ego along with their actual skills until they reach a point where they truly belong. If the time never comes, well, then perhaps another occupation should be considered. For this reason I hope that Sambassadeur will receive the attention they deserve both in Europe and elsewhere, since even the most talented of musicians can call it quits due to an overpopulation of competent rivals.

Sambassadeur was formed in 2003 within Skövde, a small town situated between Sweden’s two largest lakes. They all met in school and played gigs throughout local small towns and occasionally Gothenburg, where they are now situated. Fans began to take notice in 2005 when the four-piece released a self-titled debut and an EP, which was followed up the next year by another EP. Another album, Migration, in 2007 proved that Sambassadeur were intent on improving despite their competition. Regardless of whether their competition was receiving good or bad press, it still appeared they were receiving more than Sambassadeur. This quantitative standard may been their detriment in the early goings. The band’s ethic was never questioned, nor was their potential which illuminated brightly through insanely addictive harmonies. Their style though, not entirely innovative or unique in the vein of Swedish pop, meant that their music had to be more than good in a country where pop music reigns. It had to be exceptional. The past three years has seen little activity from Sambassadeur, who are perhaps ditching their quantitative ways in favor of a dramatic transformation that may put them in the same category as an Air France or Tough Alliance. Their new album, European, is their first release in three years and their most accomplished yet.

Although this is significantly varied, the third full-length always seems to be a make-or-break point in a band’s career (at least in terms of critical respect and praise). Most critics and listeners have sympathy for a sophomore slump, mainly because we can all relate to attempting to exceed expectations and meeting a deadline simultaneously. The third album, though, seems fair game even if its predecessor is hailed as a masterpiece. Sambassadeur’s third album is fortunately their best yet, as sweeping gems like “Days” and “Albatross” indicate on their own. The group takes advantage of their conventionalized, pop-minded structures by employing fluttering instrumentation in an effort like “Days”, where operatic strings combine with high-pitched keys for a sound both ethereal and briskly seasonal (when the sun is shining). Anna Persson’s graceful voice is accentuated when only accompanied by acoustics and bass, reminding listeners that elaborate strings are not always used to disguise flaws. “I just have to know you’re coming back again,” she concludes the song, ending it on both an optimistic tone that has a touch of unrequited bitterness to it. “I Can Try” is just as fun, this one borrowing from local legends ABBA in their use of descending arpeggios and accessibility. The synthesized crystal-like effect that appears to grace itself under Persson’s vocals are a nice tough, appearing subtly enough to establish its hook-worthy presence. Some things are used better in moderation and this is one of them.

“Albatross” is a unique step forward for the group. The tone of this track is ultimately more engrossing than any others they have released, and Persson’s vocals are implemented perfectly as the cohesive warmth of exuberant strings collides over the reverb-heavy percussion and vocals. This is the sound that jj was apparently attempting on jj nº 3, only to fail by grasping for straws. Sambassadeur’s “Albatross” succeeds immensely though. There is little structural variation to speak of, but those looking for defiant orchestral compositions are going to be disappointed by the first track anyways. What this track, and so many others on European succeed in is an incomparable ability to tread on both the tragic and uplifting. It recalls the same vein of polished pop that makes other Swedish symphonic-pop so memorable. It is the emotional depth here that should propel Sambassadeur to the eyes and ears of many though. Persson speaks of avoiding “travel and delays” because of a romantic hindrance, the elegant and sympathetic work of strings doing the weeping behind her. As her vocals begin to repeat and fade out, a wondrous string accompaniment emerges to serve as the backbone of the track until its completion. The structures and topics may not be groundbreaking here, but Sambassadeur are gradually expanding their own boundaries to become the next big thing in Swedish pop.

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Sambassadeur – Albatross

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Sambassadeur – Days

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Sambassadeur – I Can Try

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

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

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

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

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

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Her Vanished Grace – Blue

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Her Vanished Grace – Slip Away

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Her Vanished Grace – Remember

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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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To describe Aficionado as a sudden output of energy would probably the most accurate, as I doubt many bands possess the cumulative energy of this aspiring ten-piece from upstate New York. Ten members who play everything from exotic woodwind instruments to roaring guitars is not a common group composition after all, so when Aficionado takes the stage I can only imagine what goes through the audience’s minds. It would appear to have such a high potential for sloppiness or thematic pretentiousness based on the visual presentation alone. Laura Carrozza, backing vocalist and flute player, stands apart from the rest of her band members, most of them looking like a mixture of truckers and ’70s revivalists with their long bears and sloppy exterior. What resonates from this collective turns out to be to the contrary though, as this group impresses through a series of highly excitable tracks that embody original ideas and delicious hooks without ever treading too long or too intricately.

Taking a cue from punk acts of the early ’90s like At the Drive-In, Aficionado may initially impose whispers of post-hardcore and/or emo that may scare off many listeners accustomed to indie-rock. What I hope is that listeners give Aficionado a chance, as further listening shows that their ambition spreading across several genres makes them more comparable to groups like Slint, The Pixies, and Chavez. These, of course, are all artists that were integral to the development of today’s indie-rock. Aficionado are simply infusing a slight touch of early ’90s punk (though only the good kind). They make it easy for the desperate journalists by calling their special blend “progressive-indie”. Forming in 2004 amongst a group of close friends, Aficionado blended these influences with tight chemistry and emerged with a well-received album, Circus Music, in 2008. Critics noted the release for its enjoyable energy and strong musicianship, even if the songwriting did not correlate with the potential quite yet.

Their new EP, The Myth About Real Life, was produced by Don Fury in Troy, New York, which is about a ten minute drive from their native Albany. The opening, self-titled track is one that possesses the energy of favorites from Circus Music, with an even more expansive approach that results in newly cohesive song structures in alignment with the impressive multi-instrumentation. The initial brass sounds like an intro to a ska track with its thumping progression, only until a saxophone emerges with a seductive whimper to accentuate the jazz influence. The lead vocals of Nick Warchol emit a nasally, whimpery croon that shows a surprising amount of range among the powerfully alternating structures. The group’s ability to sound anthemic is inarguable. Carrozza’s backing vocals apply to this standard on both the self-titled cut and “The Same Original Idea”.

“The Same Original Idea” increases the dramatics with its introduction as Carrozza frequents more solos and verses over the fragile progression of a piano and delicate woodwinds. What sounds like a potential ballad eventually turns into the same balls-out, rock-filled atmosphere of “The Myth About Real Life”’s heightened moments, only this time with more unpredictable guitar-based transitions that resemble the progressive-rock of Yes, King Crimson, and other prog-rock forefathers. “It was a million and one of the same goddamn thing,” Warchol gripes. The intensity is raw and pure, only eclipsed by the powerful instrumentation and angelic interruptions from Carrozza. “I Don’t Believe We Met” continues in this fusion of post-hardcore, indie-rock, and progressive-rock, showing some epic ambitiousness in the use of keyboards and guitars similar to “The Same Original Ideas”. And although some ideas on the songs tend to repeat themselves in use, the varying approaches make it impressive enough to enjoy with ease. Catchiness and musical chops may eclipse groundbreaking stylistic integration for Aficionado, but with the chops of ten similarly-minded musicians at your disposal it is probably for the better.

RIYL: Slint, At the Drive-In, Yes, Kansas, The Hold Steady, King Crimson

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Aficionado – The Myth About Real Life

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Aficionado – The Same Original Idea

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Aficionado – I Don’t Believe We’ve Met

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Identifying the differences between concise indie-rock and avant-garde developments are more complex than analyzing track’s duration and selection of instrumentation. There are supremely talented musicians in each spectrum, with their method of choice usually being dependent on inspirational or influential precedents. But when we try to compare the Spoon’s and Phoenix’s of the world to a group like Animal Collective, it is more ideal to simply say that two produce indie-rock and the other puts out experimental indie-rock. To define something as experimental is usually subjective after all, though the ambition of certain artists will always remain indisputable. But when we use that term, it tends to designate an artistic technique that is either derivative and manipulated to wildly innovative means or entirely original in that it accomplishes something singularly unique despite some minor miscues (which are to be expected, as they can eventually unfold as a contributory entity). Each spectrum occasionally overlaps with one another, but for the most part the concise rockers and audible scientists remain consistent in separating themselves in the fact that experimentation has little to no commercial allure. I am not referring to the readers of this site or others similar, as they tend to exist outside commercialism’s grasp, but rather the ones that rely on advertisements and incomplete samples to form an opinion surrounding their potential interest in an artistic topic.

As consumers we tend to eliminate the mere idea of trying something more than once if the previous endeavor was not worthwhile, leaving many musicians with an unfair disadvantage in selecting their stylistic output. There is a generalization to group all music that surpasses commercial expectations in the realm of experimentation, which is quite rash considering it is one of the only genres where no prior template is possible to work off of. Sure, you could say Animal Collective borrowed components from The Beach Boys and Paul Simon among others, but there is no exact science in determining whether an artist has utilized the precise same template as a peer. It may be similar to another, but like a fingerprint there is not one exactly like it. Jesus H. Foxx could say that their influences had a role in their sound, but their uniqueness comes in their ability to border between punchy indie-rock and thought-provoking experimentation with seamless precision. The result is one of unparalleled, ceaselessly exciting awe. It sounds familiar and nostalgic while concurrently providing refreshing ideas to pop music that have delighted my ears in addition to the majority of critics that have stumbled across the British septet thus far.

Originating in the summer of 2007, Jesus H. Foxx was primarily the remnants of several fallen bands around the Edinburgh area. The collection of longtime released their debut 7”, Tightt Ideas, in 2008 as a five-piece in before acquiring two more members. They now consist of two drummers, three guitarists, a bassist, and a cornet/glockenspiel player as a result. Self-admitted fetishists of American experimental indie-rock in the vein of Animal Collective and Deerhoof, they appear indebted to groundbreaking innovations equally to accessible, psychedelic-minded pop music. This remains particularly reminiscent of Arthur Russell, whose work was so uniquely ambitious that it would be impossible to hear it prominently within the work of others unless they were sloppily ripping him off. His influence on this group, like the others, is more subtle and only prevalent to those familiar with his work. But like Russell, you can hear the seven members of Jesus H. Foxx aligning their pop ideologies with otherworldly, impressively intricate structures and developments.

Jesus H. Foxx’s new release, Matter, expands upon the impressive territory of Tightt Ideas by diversifying the six tracks on the release. To begin with where it ends, the last two songs on Matter are particularly reminiscent of this aforementioned Russell influence, particularly in the way they both use reverb and unconventionally tuned instrumentation. The self-titled track sees little more than a mumble initially to serve as a vocals, but as the track progresses with the echoes of an acoustic guitar overlapping beautifully over twinkles of keys and spatters of percussion it becomes apparent that Jesus H. Foxx is a group that plans meticulously. The rest of Matter is divided between accessibility and experimentation, with “I’m Half the Man You Were” and “Trying to Be Good” almost stealing the show. Both show a clear Talking Heads influence, in the vocals obviously with the deep oh-so-cool Verlaine tone but more prominently in how the track builds on infectiously concise guitar progressions and pleasurable eruptions deriving from the rhythm section. With female vocals coo-ing behind the snazzy Tom Verlaine-Michael Gira hybrid lead, it makes for a remarkably addictive effort. Jesus H. Foxx takes cue from songwriters like these, who apply strong pop foundations with intricately bizarre influences to create music that is sometimes confusing and a bit overwhelming, but for the most part Jesus H. Foxx are excitedly progressing into an act that we would be wise to keep an eye on.

RIYL: Animal Collective, Talking Heads, Deerhunter, Atlas Sound, Pavement, Arthur Russell

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Jesus H. Foxx – I’m Half the Man You Were

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Jesus H. Foxx – Trying to Be Good

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Jesus H. Foxx – Matter

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The “Omaha Sound” is one of the few stylistically determinable phrases of this decade that lacks pretentiousness and overwrought conceptual tasks. To describe a stylistic trend during a specific era, we tend to resort to concocted terminology like the “British Invasion”, “Paisley Underground”, or “mod revival” in order to provide proper basis for comparisons and description. It is a shortcut in describing a certain period, since its convenience lies in the generalization that agreeing upon a specific era’s artistic leaders and brand names is often mutual among music fans. These names, whether originated from an inside-joke like “Paisley Underground” or simply made from a historically directive standpoint in “mod revival”, often tend to create themselves without effort. Historians tend to take credit for coinage the most, but journalists and artists are certainly close behind. These names usually take decades to form and become widespread, as one who assumes that a certain movement will become historical is contemplating with too much inherent bias in order to be worried about terminology. But one trend that has become recognizable for all savvy music fans of the ’00s is the output of Saddle Creek, a label whose name has become synonymous with quality indie-folk that defies the necessities of glitzy, commercial pop music.

Conor Oberst, Saddle Creek’s initial co-founder alongside his brother Justin, certainly represents his label’s most recognizable venture with his Bright Eyes project, but Saddle Creek has gradually evolved into one of the world’s most respectable folk labels. To singularly label Saddle Creek as a “folk label” seems somewhat linear considering they have more energetic, guitar-based groups like Tokyo Police Club and Land of Talk on their current roster, but its reputation as a folk-friendly label still is reflective in the bulk of its acts. Epic narratives and gritty acoustic guitars still tower over fancy production and full-blown orchestras over at Saddle Creek, and one of their latest signings in Old Canes brings us back to the label’s early days when they were salvaging the most promising acts from the new and emerging indie-folk scene of the early ’90s. To group one of Kansas’ beloved acts, The Appleseed Cast, into this mold might seem a bit forced. After all, intricate post-rock with howling vocals and pulsating guitar work contrasts with the barren folk that Saddle Creek is renowned for. Perhaps this is why it comes as such a surprise that Christopher Crisci, The Appleseed Cast’s frontman, has emerged with one of the finer folk releases of 2009.

Few artists are faced with the obstacle of turning an electric sound into an acoustic sound, as the latter is often employed more for initially developmental works that would allow additional instrumental work. Crisci was faced with this dilemma in 2001 when he was touring with The Appleseed Cast. Promoters wanted a more accessible, acoustic sound for the in-store shows and this prompted Crisci to reach into the depths of his songwriting vault. After pulling out some acoustic songs that had never seen the light of the day, the reception was so encouraging that Crisci decided to pursue the sound even further. Upon establishing his solo project, Old Canes, he surprised fans with his 2004 debut, Early Morning Hymns, and the introduction of a folkier sound that possessed the same ardency of The Appleseed Cast with a startlingly different style. Instead of being compared to Mogwai and Minus the Bear, Crisci’s work was now being mentioned alongside Neutral Milk Hotel and other elusive Elephant 6 acoustic-psyche acts. Crisci was sincere with his gravelly vocals and acoustic guitar, utilizing lo-fi production that is not reluctant to show its crackles or audible deficiencies. Instead, these flaws took up a chronological role of their own in making a 2004 release sound like it was a classic from the ’70s. Minus Story’s Jordan Geiger was there to throw in everything from trumpets to glockenspiels, roughing out the edges and making the comparisons more evident to Elephant 6-like recordings. He was generally responsible for the difference between ’70s psyche-folk and ’90s pop-experimentation, and with Crisci was responsible for the accomplished Early Morning Hymns.

Crisci’s debut got the attention of Saddle Creek, who agreed to release the follow-up Feral Harmonic this October. Crisci has released two albums with The Appleseed Cast since the release of Early Morning Hymns, so it was interesting to hear how his fascination with acoustics and folk music played out with more experience on his side. The Appleseed Cast’s 2006 album, Peregrine, incorporated more guitar-based acoustics and diversity than any of the group’s albums before it, while their new album this year (Sagarmatha) was primarily a foray into gradually evolving post-rock. Feral Harmonic comes out of nowhere in being incomparable to any Appleseed Cast releases, while only retaining traces of Old Canes’ debut. Crisci is not necessarily making a transition, but rather learning how to incorporate all of his knowledge and strengths. Tracks like the forewarning “Trust” and “Sweet” incorporate heightened tempos and more intricate structures, all while retaining a core acoustic sound that complements Crisci’s vocals as effectively as ever. “Sweet” brings out some of Geiger’s toy pianos and glockenspiels again, while the trumpets add some extra oomph to a curious arrangement filled with delightful twists and turns.

“Trust” also serves as one of the album’s most noteworthy efforts, with an eruption of passion ushering itself in appropriately after a subdued section in which twinkling keys are the only noticeable instrument. When the strong acoustical strums and hectic flurry of keys collide, the immersion is unavoidable. “Little Bird Courage” is particularly demonstrative of the excellent drumming on this album; how it evolves and eventually introduces the toy pianos and trumpets creates an extraordinary build-up that kicks off the album with triumphant artistic vigor. Feral Harmonic is a bolder, more unpredictable release than its predecessor. It sharpens its production with more instrumentation and proper mixing, but the raw authenticity of the folk delivered on Early Morning Hymns is not lost. Crisci is as emotive as ever, and his ability to craft truly epic songs with the sincerest of emotions in mind is a true talent that he puts to proper use in Old Canes’ excellent Feral Harmonic. The “Omaha Sound” is safe in the hands of Old Canes, a group that appears poised for success due to their estimable veneration for evolving post-rock and raw indie-folk alike. Never has the combination sounded so sincere.

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Old Canes – Trust

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Old Canes – Little Bird Courage

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Old Canes – Sweet

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It is hard enough to stand out in the music industry, both in regard to the attention one receives and how long they are able to endure standing there without recognition. It is both literal and interpretive here, as a feeling of prominence undoubtedly effects one’s willingness to remain in an industry. In regard to the industry of music, it is difficult to name many other occupations that possess more unpredictability than that one. And on that note, forget about how the country or even the region recognizes them. Getting noticed by your locality cannot simply be an assumption. It is a triumph for some bands to be written about on the back page of their local paper, while others find insufficiency in an above-average review from Rolling Stone. Most newcomers, though, will find excitement in any sort of exposure. For that, I feel some sympathy for artists residing from Brooklyn. Sure, Grizzly Bear and TV on the Radio may be the area’s most popular contemporary acts, but that statement’s arguable nature simply shows how ample Brooklyn is with great acts; it is the rare instance of a local scene being both agreeably quantitative and qualitative. But it begs the questions, could a local scene ever be overpopulated by too many worthwhile acts? After all, we do need to go to work and get the recommended seven hours of sleep.

The obstacles for artists in artistically overcrowded localities are abundant, even if the issues often are prevailed by the privilege of living in an artistic community where inspiration is vastly accessible. In an area like Brooklyn though, I could only imagine the artists being more frustrated with the press’ selection process than the sheer concept of competition. To expose the already-exposed seems to be the norm, with superfluous addition of information (their favorite food, more influences, etc.) apparently compensating for the feeling of something fresh and exciting. For a stable artist intent on just creating music, this can be quite discouraging in the face of innovation. But for an artist like Kordan, who fuses a fresh and polished style of electro-rock with an urban-like rush, these deprived circumstances can be manipulated to his favor. When you have material as great as Kordan does in a place as thriving as Brooklyn, the experienced understand that patience is all one needs to eventually obtain success. Why I think Kordan’s success is imminent certainly has something to do with his music, but perhaps more so in how he reacts to the prospect of fame even if it has not arrived yet. It must be a city thing.

Kordan could modestly note that he’s opened for the likes of Cut Copy before selling any song or release, but the low-key Brooklynite does not approach success that way. He writes on his own blog about the art of others, not how his own project is on the verge of widespread recognition. Usually treading toward the avant-garde, featured artists on the blog like Pedro Vilas-Boas and Tatsuyuki Tanaka embody both the unknown and groundbreaking in the non-musical side of art. On the more audible end, Kordan is practically their equivalent. While working on a contemporary canvas that utilizes high-end electronic production to create shimmering works of memorable pop music, the embodiment of Kordan’s work is too distinctive and layered to be singularly grouped in the vein of electronic-pop. Like the avant-garde artists he adores and features, Kordan interprets and relays music differently than others within a similar realm. These include acts along the lines of Cut Copy and Chromatics, all very respectable electronic acts that infuse similar formulas of instrumentation and production but proceed to make their work individualistic through other, more discreet means.

While some electronic-rock acts utilize samples, stylistic fusions, and other forms of thematic quiltwork to establish cohesiveness, Kordan simplifies this dramatic struggle with precision. His debut EP, Fantasy Nation, contains a mere five tracks but each one possesses a different approach that summarizes Kordan’s intent beautifully. The EP’s self-titled cut is a translucent gem that takes the swift guitar work of Cut Copy and plasters it on the ’80s new-wave-inspired vocal techniques of groups like Cut Copy, who often worked their grandiose choruses using rhythmic prominence and abruptly increased vocal reverb. “Fantasy Nation”, along with several others on the EP, seems to incorporate guitar work that is not there for intricacy or dramatics, but rather as a supplementation of sorts. The rhythm section, powerful vocals, and subtle components of the great production is what truly establishes Kordan as something special. With “Fantasy Nation” serving as an up-beat replica of this decade’s trend in electronic-rock, the following “Tokyo Tears” is eventually more resounding as a somber look back at ’80s post-punk. The brooding bass line seems to pummel through the thick wave of reverb, making Kordan’s vocals nearly inaudible above being a moody whimper. When associated with the chilling guitar work though, it plays off extraordinary as one of the most ardently effective efforts on the EP.

“Slouchy Girl”, Fantasy Nation‘s closing number, is also noteworthy for being completely different than everything else on the release. With its strings, soft acoustics, and background coo’s, it almost sounds like Voxtrot acquired a stronger vocalist and started writing better songs. It is fun and catchy to be sure, and more than assurance that Kordan is vaster than a one-trick-pony. This phenomenal EP could have told you that by itself though. Fantasy Nation is one of the most memorable debut releases of the year, and listening to it shows why Cut Copy demanded Kordan to be their opening act last year after hearing the songs on this EP. Although Brooklyn’s bustle has prevented instantaneous exposure, the imminence of Kordan’s success can be easily heard through tracks like “Fantasy Nation” and “Tokyo Tears”. With artists like these, there is no such thing as an overpopulation of quality artists. As listeners, it should be our duty to sift through them in knowing that their locale provides more inspiration than most.

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Kordan – Fantasy Nation

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Kordan – Slouchy Girl

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Kordan – Tokyo Tears

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Download four tracks from Fantasy Nation for free here.

The post Kordan’s Fantasy Nation appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.