Repetition and pretentiousness are sometimes aligned in music, especially when something not even worth hearing once is repeated continuously. Listeners do not want artists forcing anything on them, especially when it is a frustratingly linear loop. The increasing abundance of quality artists like Animal Collective and Air France suggests that the genre is attaining more respectability, as this sample-led vein of pop has had more flops than successes so far. Lately though there has been an outpouring of quality from this movement, propelling it to supreme recognition in the independent scene. Psychedelia has been a primary influence in recent loop-based works, which include the recent induction of “chillwave” with the likes of Washed Out and Neon Indian. Their style is more rooted in electronica, while others like Animal Collective provide a more natural source of instrumentation in addition to their eclectic use of samples. Big Spider’s Back seems more influenced by the methodology of the latter, though fascination with electronica is certainly not hidden. The one man behind the project, Seattle-based Yair Rubinstein, specializes in his variety of musical interests; his interest in everything from upbeat surf-pop to distorted noise is what makes his debut EP so captivating.

Traditionally ignited as a lo-fi bedroom project in 2007, Big Spider’s Back has evolved into a stunningly enjoyable creative overflow that is collected for our delight on Warped. His debut was just released on Circle Into Square Records and is already receiving some great press. This is hardly surprising considering the style Rubinstein is specializing in, which should sound delightfully familiar to any fans of sample-led psychedelia or Swedish-sounding electro-pop. The recent surge of this suggests Rubinstein may have his album on several lists by the end of the year. Judging by the effort alone though, it is entirely deserving. Much like Air France’s No Way Down EP in 2008, Big Spider’s Back teases its listeners into wanting more of its gorgeous pop music before year’s end. Its mere five tracks show plenty to warrant recognition, all possessing a distinctive flow despite differentiation rooted in eclecticism and melodic variation. The latter is extremely subtle though, as development and growth are the two most important attributes of Big Spider’s Back. The songs on Warped develop with such precision and imagination that getting there is part of the great journey itself.

Field recordings, psychedelic production, and ethereal vocals are the prime components at work on Warped. Rubinstein employs his talents distinctively and proportionately to make all five efforts on the EP soar with ambition. The self-titled cut works around a fluttering base loop, one resembling summery indie-pop with its acoustic glow and Avalanches-like tropical enigma. This song shows how interesting Rubinstein’s vocals are as well; his nasally croon is found more in rock than spaced-out pop, but the unconventional fit provides for many enjoyable moments. His voice sounds like an odd hybrid of Billy Corgan and Tom Verlaine and this creates a unique vehicle for his vocal presence. Imagine either of those two’s eccentric tendencies incorporated with summery indie-pop, which is what the loops on “Warped” seem aligned with. Pulsating bass, glistening synths, and chirpy keys concoct images of greenery and sunshine as the track’s atmospheric presence. Hearing Rubinstein emit his soaring croon within these circumstances is part of the allure. His pitch is more reminiscent of Verlaine, but his actually delivery falls more in line with Panda Bear. Plenty of reverbed cushion, semi-yodels, and anthemic bursts of effervescence ring from his vocal chords and it finds perfect accompaniment in tracks like “Warped” and “Perfect Machine”.

The acclaimed “Perfect Machine” is more demonstrative of their developmental songwriting. Somewhat similar to how “Summertime Clothes” mastered looping a crunchy guitar loop for the masses, “Perfect Machine” is a gorgeous succession of complementary loops that are primarily grounded in acoustic and electric guitar. The first to emerge is a simple acoustic strum, followed by some light palm muting on an electric guitar. The two complement one another beneficially, fusing together rather than fighting for the spotlight. The sequence of spacey keys then emerges and does two things: it sits there and sounds pretty, and it distracts the listener as the acoustic strums subtly form a very capable rhythm section. Rubinstein’s vocals enter as the keys become lower in pitch, his vocals now emitting a light, airy tone that reflects the . The undercurrents of gently plucked electric guitars provide for intricacy that is revealed in full upon future listens. A similar replay value can be said for “Don’t Make Me Laugh”, another phenomenal effort that applies excellent sample-based percussion with the twinkling, spaced-out bliss of The Flaming Lips’ more subdued material. His vocal resemblance here to Wayne Coyne is pretty entertaining as well, and the pulsating minimalism of the track serves as an overall excellent closer to a greatly atmospheric EP. Be on the look out for Big Spider’s Back; the quality of Warped makes it clear that Yair Rubinstein is here to stay.

RIYL: Animal Collective/Panda Bear, The Flaming Lips, Jesus H. Foxx, Le Loup, Air France, Ball of Flame Shoot Fire, Alias Pail, The Walkmen

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Big Spider’s Back – Warped

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Big Spider’s Back – Perfect Machine

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Big Spider’s Back – Don’t Make Me Laugh

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

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

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

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

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The Yes Pleases – From Whence It Came

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The Yes Pleases – 70%

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

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From crocodiles to woodpigeons, I have featured a surprising number of bands that resort to their animalistic side for their namesake. Many of us have, at one point, come across the Discovery Channel to learn something that shocks us about animals. Whether it involves mating rituals or hibernation, there are certain behavioral characteristics in animals that make the human race seem dull in comparison. Perhaps this can explain why so many artists opt for an animalistic connection, one that makes their appearance seem more enigmatic and naturally inclined than the human species. Or perhaps it can be deployed in a symbolic manner, like the recently featured Bowerbirds. Unbeknownst to me before I wrote about them, the male bowerbird holds a colorful object in its beak to attract females during mating season. As it turns out, they do so to compensate for their lack of coloring, adorning their bowers with dead insects and other objects to distinguish themselves from the females. We can all agree that this tidbit is interesting, but how does it relate to an indie-rock band? For Bowerbirds, their style of instrumentation valued quality over quantity; the sparse amount of instruments was compensated for by arrangements brimming with passion, authenticity, and irresistible hooks. The group collected influences and ideas and wore them on their sleeves. Like the bird in their namesake, this distinction attracted an audience and distinguished them from their contemporaries.

For our next animal feature, we turn to a reptile with a reputation of being particularly rowdy. Who could it be kids? If you guessed Alligators, you are correct! Like Bowerbirds, this Seattle-based quintet takes pride in their name, even if the comparison to the scaly reptile is more ambiguous than that of a comparison to a bowerbird. Alligators claim that the animal in their namesake “have a peculiar mystique surrounding their existence”, citing the band’s own small-town upbringing as an example of a band that has risen out of ambiguity to hopefully conquer the nation’s attention span. Since their days in the local music scene of the greater Bremerton area in Washington, the five members in Alligators have been slowly climbing to the top. Longtime friends and collaborators, most of them were professionally trained in music and they all encompass a similar range of musical influences. They all mention Radiohead, the Beach Boys, and the Zombies most prominently, which is quite apt considering their sound borders between melodic experimentation and accessible pop. It is very typical of contemporary indie-rock, but their songwriting and ambitious song structures make their debut album, Piggy and Cups, something to get excited over.

The songs on Piggy and Cups vary in their introductory stages, ranging anywhere from the lush acoustical balladry of “If You Want To” to the rushing guitars of “Original Fear”. Regardless of where these efforts start though, they tend to almost always unfold into something highly excitable and genuinely enthralling. That may lead some to assume that Alligators are simply a continuation of the long line of generic indie-rockers that linger today, but even one listen to a creatively diverse song like “Original Fear” should calm those qualms. Joshua Trembley begins the track with vocals that appear more subdued than usual, only to introduce the listener to a falsetto-like range that coincides with increased intricacy in the guitar progressions and rhythm section. When Trembley proclaims, “When I woke up to the light of day,” the meatiest section of the track occurs, and boy is it good. The flashback to ‘90s alt-rock here is prominent, and the song’s conclusion with roaring guitars and coo-ing backing vocals is even better. Trembley demonstrates such intense emotion throughout this gem, perhaps taking away the spotlight from some great performances and intensely excelling songwriting. Repeated listens will solidify this song’s success though, and other gems on the album will be enjoyed similarly. The flow of Piggy and Cups is something that continues to impress me after a few listens; each song flows into one another more cohesively than most indie-rock groups these days, and for a group as ambitious as Alligators that is certainly an important skill to have.

Although I find too many of the songs on Piggy and Cups to contain too much structural diversity to become radio staples, there is no denying that a patient listener will surely be rewarded by the debut. It is a shame when actual intricacy and focus hinders an artist’s potential for recognition, so Piggy and Cups is yet another remarkable indie-rock debut that may be too diverse for its own commercialized good. The album’s opener and one of the more accessible efforts, “Where Does It Hide”, opens simplistically enough with linear guitar progressions and very ‘90s-like reverbed vocals, paving the way to a one-dimensional chorus that depends on halted guitars and vocal quips. However, both the verse and chorus merely end up serving as an introduction for greater things to come. After about two minutes though, we find the group resorting to electronic pop in a fashion that resembles a more wound-up Maroon 5. We find a bit of ‘70s pop present here, just like in the ending minutes of “Mama, Stop” where various vocal tracks collide to create something serene and expressive in accordance to the backing guitars. It seems that most tracks on Piggy and Cups open up with something accessible in order to prepare listeners for greater things to come, introducing anything from tinges of electro-soul to country-pop after that. After any given track on Piggy and Cups exceeds the two-minute mark, one can expect to hear a flurry of hooks and outstanding performances that provide Alligators with a lasting impression that seems more than suitable for a grand accomplishment in the vein of Piggy and Cups.

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Alligators – Original Fear

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Alligators – If You Want To

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Alligators – Where Does It Hide

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In the life of Luke Temple, artistic transitioning nearly seems like a daily routine by now. In several career choices that are not particularly surprising from a multifarious talent, Temple has made a living out of being both a mural painter and a musician. Between painting murals in the grandiose houses of the New York City elite and singing his oddly infectious tunes in smoky barrooms, one could say that Temple likely has a good perception of what it means to struggle as someone who makes a living out of being an artist. Now, Temple appears to be doing just fine for himself, but his growing recognition did not come without any work at all. As he transitioned between considerably different jobs and states (from Boston to Seattle and California to New York), Temple gathered experience that proved beneficial to his talents as both a painter and musician. Perhaps most importantly of all, he learned what it took to alternate between various lifestyles and locales, all while maintaining a consistent focus on the reason why his renown is growing considerably: his art. While mural paintings supported him well enough, Temple’s true calling always seemed to be within the art of music. When he decided to prioritize his music-related pursuits above his respectable work as a mural painter, many wondered whether such a risky move would pay off in the end.

Considering that Temple pursued painting as a student at the School of Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts, it may strike many as surprising that he chose to pursue music over something that he was well-studied in. After all, why not just study music in school if it were your most ardent passion? The truth is that few people realize their true focused potential upon entering, and even exiting, college, leading onto lives of regret and contradiction. Well, it usually is not that bad, but Temple is a good example of how initial interests can stimulate a latent talent. There is no doubt that Temple is a talented painter, but it is also a skill that can be rendered unavoidably prevalent in childhood. After all, in grade school, a child drawing a picture is a more common and accessible occurrence than one who transcribes music or writes songs in crayon. This interest, along with an easily identifiable talent, likely led Temple to his choice of a career as a painter. This career choice, like many others though, led to something else that eventually resulted in more appropriate circumstances for a songwriter whose lyrical and melodic prowess transcends many of those who have been set on a musical career since their early childhood.

At this current decade’s beginning, as Temple was preparing to try out his hand at visual art, he began to develop an interest in music. He had enjoyed listening to music for the majority of his life, but it was not until then that he took a deep interest in songwriting, production, and the inner-workings of the art. An artist his entire life, the transitioning seemed nearly seamless as he released his debut, a four-track EP, in 2004. His full-length debut, Hold a Match for a Gasoline World, followed in 2005 and it was a fantastic display of the Massachusetts native’s songwriting ability. One thing that he kept the same was his commitment to striking visuals, an aspect that he accomplished through excellent lyrical imagery. For a former painter, I suppose it was not surprising. What was unexpected was Temple’s melodic virtuosity, a feat that was heavily accomplished despite the bare workings of finger-picked acoustics and folky ballads. The songs were not breathtakingly innovative or structurally unpredictable, but they were appealing and accessible enough for Temple’s words to flow with an emotional vigor that is essential in quality folk music. He found his first glimpse of mainstream success in 2006 after one of the album’s tracks, “Make Right with You”, appeared on Grey’s Anatomy, setting the stage for the release of his second album, Snowbeast, in 2007.

Snowbeast was a breakthrough for Temple on several levels. In addition to gathering the acclaim of both fans and musicians (Sufjan Stevens, Ben Gibbard) alike, it found Temple expanding upon his previous material without reverting to new styles of play or methods of production. Recorded in his Brooklyn apartment, the use of lo-fi folk was still prominent but the songs themselves benefitted from a more organized flow and a stylistic addition that saw some aspects of electronica being incorporated into Temple’s works. The structures were also noticeably more ambitious, with most of the tracks apart from the opening “Saturday People” taking unpredictable twists and turns that often resulted in an ingeniously engineered success. After the release of this, it was clear that Hold a Match for a Gasoline World was setting the stage for Snowbeast in showcasing Temple’s wildly impressive growth as a songwriter within only two years. And just like that evolution, Snowbeast has accomplished in preparing listeners for Temple’s newest release, a new project altogether that he entitles Here We Go Magic.

What Here We Go Magic’s self-titled debut does so well is that it takes the ambitiousness and electro-folk tinges of Snowbeast and combines them with unchartered territory that is not like anything Temple has done before. Half psychedelic-pop and half electro-folk, Here We Go Magic is yet another redeeming example of Temple’s growth as a songwriter. While a wide assortment of synthesizers, guitars, bass, percussion, and samples push him out of the lo-fi category, the songs here are more depictive of minimalistic experimentation than the structural ambitiousness found on Snowbeast. In fact, many of the tracks on Here We Go Magic like “I Just Want to See You Underwater” and “Tunnelvision” benefit from a repetitive riff or sample that remains somewhat consistent throughout the song. “Tunnelvision” sports an acoustic progression and a basic 4/4 drum beat that is not altered even once; the beauty of the track instead comes in the effectiveness of the warbling production and Temple’s high-pitched voice. The tone is ethereal and calming, a stark contrast from the synthesized arpeggios of “I Just Want to See You Underwater”. But this contrast is what makes Here We Go Magic so extraordinary. From the accessibly tropical pop sensibilities of “Fangela” and the use of Afro-pop in “Only Pieces” to the droning ambience of “Ghost List” and “Nat’s Alien”, this album is full of wonderful surprises. This especially applies to the concluding “Everything’s Big”, a track unlike anything else on the album with its naturalistic lo-fi sentiments involving acoustic guitars, keys, and a slight touch of strings. When this ends the album with its genuine flair of romance, it is difficult to even envision Temple pursuing a different art form. This is clearly his true calling.

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Here We Go Magic – Fangela

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Here We Go Magic – Everything’s Big*

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Here We Go Magic – Tunnelvision

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*”Everything’s Big” removed at the request of Western Vinyl

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by Mike Mineo

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10. Dr. Dog – Fate

For their fifth album, Fate, Dr. Dog intentionally granted high expectations months before the release. Calling it the album that “they were destined to make”, it should make the album’s title a rather obvious one. However, considering that last year’s We All Belong was easily one of the best indie-rock releases of the year, improving upon a release that is widely considered their best may be a daunting task. For a band that has improved with each successive release though, success appeared nearly imminent. And while Fate does not substantially topple We All Belong in terms of overall consistency, it offers a few of the most rewarding moments that can be found on Dr. Dog’s growing discography. Considering that hints indicating Fate as their most expansive release to date were heavily prevalent, it is nearly ironic that the opening moments of “The Breeze” sound like the throwback lo-fi version of Dr. Dog, back in 2004 before My Morning Jacket scooped them up and brought them out on tour to expose them to an audience who would grow extremely fond of the Philly-based five-piece. As the track progresses though, “The Breeze” proves to be a great representation of Dr. Dog’s songwriting. The soft strumming of an acoustic guitar gradually shifts to a broader instrumental accompaniment that features a cohesive display of guitars, tropical keys, and cooing backing vocals, with the gradually augmented percussion establishing the build-up to an extremely commendable extent. Rather than attempting to bolster a previously acclaimed style, the rest of Fate sounds very much like – well – recent Dr. Dog. To Dr. Dog’s benefit, it results in being arguably the strongest album of their career. Much debate will eventually arise among fans that are split deciding which one of their three recent albums is Dr. Dog’s most effective. When listening to a succession of tracks in the middle of their most recent effort, it is hard not to make a case for Fate.

Army of Ancients” kicks off this irresistible run, sporting a combination of brass and strings that makes a striking impression when set against the backdrop of vigorous keys and Scott McMicken’s powerful vocals. He resembles an ardent fusion of Harry Nilsson and Richard Manuel as he lets out a highly emotive croon at the conclusion of each chorus; the whimper seems to get better each time around and establishes itself as a convincingly stable hook. “The Rabbit, the Bat, and the Reindeer” is more reminiscent of traditional Dr. Dog with its key-led progression and simplistically memorable chorus, but it fits exceedingly well between the ambitious pop of “Army of Ancients” and the outstanding “The Ark”. “The Ark” serves as a great achievement for a group even of Dr. Dog’s throwback mentality, as the diversity alone presented within its duration should silence any critics who describe their sound as being bland or overly imitative. Barely over three minutes long, both the track’s lyrical scope and melodic tendencies prove highly memorable. The topics range from war and remorse to love and faith, all presented in lyrical forms that contradict the conventional actions involved in all circumstances. The various progressions and rhythmic accompaniments are more subdued when compared to other efforts on the album but it bodes well with the content at hand. The chorus nearly resembles the grandiose flair of Pulp’s “This is Hardcore”, with Dr. Dog’s nostalgic tendencies emerging as the dividing factor. With the halted guitar-led stomps of “The Beach” and the intricately infectious “My Friend” closing off the album in equally impressive form, it is difficult to find a track on Fate that is not wholesomely enjoyable to some extent. So, in the end, is Fate a massive improvement upon We All Belong? No, but it is just as consistent and massively enjoyably as its predecessor. And since We All Belong was one of the best releases of last year, Fate also slides in nicely as one of the most accomplished indie-rock albums of 2008.

Dr. Dog – The Ark

Dr. Dog – The Rabbit, the Bat, and the Reindeer

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09. Benji Hughes – A Love Extreme

For an artist who opts to produce a double album, it is arguably vital to have a sense of confidence in regard to their own stylistic ability. Unless the songwriting can be widely classified as ingenious, few artists can release such a lengthy album without their style becoming tiresome by the last few tracks at best. This is one of the primary reasons why most double albums we see are from artists who have already had their successes and bumps in the road, as experience is the most imperative tool in crafting something successful of a lengthy duration. Keeping that in mind, for an artist to debut with a double album showcases a form of confidence that is rare even among the most experienced artists. Whether they can live up their own lofty impressions is often a flawed cause, but Benji Hughes’s debut, A Love Extreme, has pulled it off so seamlessly that it is not even slightly pretentious or overbearing. Instead, the native of North Carolina has produced one of the best debuts of 2008. Within the 25 tracks that encompass A Love Extreme, Hughes’ topical tendencies stray anywhere from taking mushrooms before a Flaming Lips concert to being stood up at a Dairy Queen. “I’m more alternative than Suicide Girls,” he goes on to say during “The Mummy”, a rather apt indication of his cultural awareness. An awareness of so-called “hipster culture” is something that he does quite humorously, with the majority of it being in satirical form like the bouncy, topically self-explanatory “I Went with Some Friends to See the Flaming Lips”, the synthesized dance-pop of “Why Do These Parties Always End the Same Way?”, and the infectious electro-funk of “Neighbor Down the Hall”, a tale of the effect of loud music on an irritated landlord. His outlook on youth culture is amusing because he manages to make a mockery of it while not disbanding and dismissing it entirely, using realistically humorous anecdotes to often emit a central focus.

Since it is a double album after all, this is wisely not the only prevalent topical focus. Hughes also has an extreme capability to craft resoundingly successful love songs, whether they are in the form of a ballad or an infectious interpretation of electronic pop. Tracks like “All You’ve Got to Do Is Fall in Love”, “Waiting for an Invitation”, and “So Much Better” variously employ gentle acoustic and key progressions, while a brisker effort like “Even If” showcases a suave mixture of key-led pop and jazz. All of the aforementioned provide excellent results though in a romanticized atmosphere, particularly the brilliant “Even If”, which finds Hughes treading successfully somewhere between The Walkmen and The Divine Comedy. Though Hughes’ diversity causes comparisons to The Walkmen on “Even If” and even Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy on “So Well” to arise, his multifarious topical ability is more reminiscent of Stephin Merritt, the leader of the Magnetic Fields. Like Merritt, Hughes is able to simultaneously generate ironic, satirical, and witty remarks over a ceaselessly expanding array of musical styles. It also helps that his voice is similarly low, musky, and also highly melodic. One of the album’s catchiest tracks, “You Stood Me Up”, fuses power-pop in the verses with an utterly irresistible chorus that is largely dependent on electro-rock. How so many songs can be simultaneously humorous and tragic is part of what makes Hughes’ album so impressive. The very same thing can be said for Magnetic Fields’ 69 Love Songs, another comparable epic that incorporated a massive array of styles, unpredictable topical frequencies, and amusing references to pop (and independent) culture. Like that album, A Love Extreme could very well be looked back upon in a decade as one of the best albums of its kind.

Benji Hughes – You Stood Me Up

Benji Hughes – Even If

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08. Cut Copy – In Ghost Colours

Calling Cut Copy one of the best current electronic pop artists may be an understatement. After all, so many artists today live in fear of incorporating the sheer amount of synthesized arpeggios, melodic flamboyance, and stylistic consistencies that the Australian trio has succeeded so brilliantly with on their debut, Bright Like Neon Love, and now with their second album, In Ghost Colours. Cut Copy have simply turned aspects of music that are generally considered “outdated” and fused them with a very updated style of music that is both inventive and constantly enthralling. With its widespread acclaim, the 2004 release of Bright Like Neon Love treated listeners to one of most infectious albums of the year with clever hooks and swiftly invigorating melodies. It also had a hand in opening up the field of electronic pop to listeners who may have been reluctant of it, as the album’s superb tendencies of mixing synth-charged lead melodies with overlapping guitar-based progressions and real-time percussion made the stylistic transition among listeners impeccably seamless by proving that the trio’s style was beyond the stereotypical mold of linear electronic pop. With polished production and quality songwriting, Cut Copy grew to be one of the most respected electro-pop groups after releasing only one album. When listening to Bright Like Neon love though, listeners should begin to realize why. That being said, In Ghost Colours simply attests to the fact that listeners were not incorrect in gauging the potential of Cut Copy. With production that is just as sharp, songwriting that is just as captivating, and a level of commitment that is just as strong, it is serves as that rare follow-up that has a chance of eclipsing a classic predecessor.

With its thumping bass and dance-like vocal bridge in the climaxing bridge, “Hearts on Fire” is the perfect clash between gaudy dance and sharply executed punk music. “With heart on fire, I reach out to you tonight,” lead vocalist Dan Whitford repeats with his sleek voice. The eventual accompaniment of a lamenting saxophone adds additionally to the track’s brilliance, especially when the synthy bass re-emerges and a sparkling new array of synths become complemented by a post-punkish guitar progression. “So Haunted” sees the group achieve with more haste, stacking up a distorted guitar that is melodically echoed by a high-pitched synth tremolo. But when the chorus arrives, the track arrives on that arena-like stage that it builds up to since its intro. That the chorus is both so melodically and stylistically different than the verse is a risk that the band chose to take, though the transition between verse and chorus remains brilliant. The halt of percussion of occurs during the track’s conclusion also paves the way for some melodic alteration that aids the track’s beautiful conclusion, one that sees Whitford’s vocals take on a heavenly melody that remains embedded within the core of “So Haunted”. With “Unforgettable Season” and “Midnight Runner” serving as additional highlights that see the group’s successful attempts at a more guitar-based, atmospherically indie-rock side of things, Cut Copy have added another modern electro-pop to the books with In Ghost Colours.

Cut Copy – Hearts on Fire

Cut Copy – So Haunted

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07. Quiet Village – Silent Movie

If I went on to say that Quiet Village’s latest LP, Silent Movie, consisted in bulk of numerous samples, I imagine that many people would be turned off immediately. It’s a shame too, as the album is easily one of the most impressive things I have heard all year. There is not much personal information available about the extremely talented duo, but it would be safe to assume that both members in Quiet Village – Matt Edwards and Joel Martin – have such a masterful grasp on various styles of music that their fixation on sampling is simply the result of two artists who view the method as the most efficient and potentially successful option available. On Silent Movie, one can expect to find a variety of styles, most of which are contained within an enthralling delivery of entailed relaxation. Whether one stumbles upon the seductive jazz in the latter half of “Too High to Move”, the finger-plucked elegance of the beautiful “Utopia”, the thumping string-propelled dance of “Can’t Be Beat”, or the tinges of reggae and surf in the infectious (and appropriately titled) “Pacific Rhythm”, there is not one song on here that sounds like one another, providing for a fulfilling and artistically invigorating listening experience. The process that Edwards and Martin have went through to craft such a grandiose effort is also extremely commendable, with their ability to identify a sample, exploit it in talented form, and implement it over a variety of other samples being both extremely impressive and highly original in its result.Silent Movie kicks off with “Victoria’s Secret”, an evolving opener that remains focused on an oddly familiar string progression that is supplemented by the backing chirps of seagulls. Its enjoyment primarily derives from the uniquely serene atmosphere that the track creates, but the effects that Edwards and Martin personally employ are too minor to be a sufficient example of Quiet Village’s supreme chops. For that, just take a listen to the next song on the album, “Circus of Horror”. In stark contrast to its subdued predecessor, a gritty guitar progression immediately emerges as the melodic guide. A mixture of strings and reflectively eerie backing vocals follow shortly thereafter, aiding the melody and lifting it to new heights. When the progression changes, the sample of an ardent, soul-like croon is executed with successful precision. The addition sounds minimal at first, but repeated listens upon moments like this throughout the album eventually prove to be invigorating, as the subtle executions that Edwards and Martin introduce throughout the album in turn crafts a variety of clever hooks. “Free Rider” finds success under similar circumstances, ushering in a bouncy guitar progression once the sole beat of shuffling percussion and reflective vocals subsides.

Easily the most accessible track on Silent Movie, “Pacific Rhythm” is also one of the only tracks on the album that substitutes audible experimentation for immediate accessibility. The underlying guitar progression is reminiscent of reggae, but the strings and bass line beckon to a more sweeping nature of symphonic pop. The vocals on “Pacific Rhythm” also serve as one of the rare moments on the album where a single vocal performance is attributed. Often, on tracks like “Free Rider” and “Too High to Move”, the only glimpse of vocals are either in the form of a backing melody or non-melodic sample. Instead, the female vocals on “Pacific Rhythm” contribute to the straightforward elegance beautifully. The song itself contributes to the fantastic flow of the album in unique form as well, providing a breath of relief in the enjoyable midst of avant-garde leanings on the outstanding jazz-oriented “Too High to Move” and the suave, string-aided throwback in “Broken Promises”. The impressive “Utopia” borrows more than a few samples from Andreas Vollenweider’s “Steam Forest”, utilizing a beautiful finger-plucked acoustical melody over sparkling keys and the reverbed clicking of percussion. The result, like the entire duration of Silent Movie, is a ravishing display of innovation that provides for pure and easygoing enjoyment on the listener’s part. In addition to being one of the most uniquely satisfying releases I have heard so far this year, Silent Movie is also one of the all-around best.

Quiet Village – Pacific Rhythm

Quiet Village – Utopia

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06. The Tallest Man on Earth – Shallow Grave

It is often a nuisance whenever a critic calls a new and young artist a “beatnik”, but I suppose that it would be a somewhat suitable classification for Kristian Matsson, aka The Tallest Man on Earth. Despite a fresh and wavering scene that mainly dismisses gritty folk as a component of the past, Matsson has chosen to disregard the skeptics and carry on with a style that suits him the best, similar to the individualistic ideals of his namesake. If you had read any article concerning Matsson prior to this one, you are probably aware of one comparison that is consistently evident. Dylan-like, Dylan-esque… yeah, you get the drift – Matsson sounds a bit like the folk legend. It seems that the tag has been granted to seemingly every folk songwriter with an acoustic guitar these days, but Matsson actually makes a case for a legit comparison. Playing a varied style of acoustical folk is one thing, but Matsson’s excelled lyrical prowess is where he shines most uniquely. Providing a cohesion of metaphorical imagery and anecdotal musings, Matsson’s emphasis on nature serves as a refreshing change of pace when compared to other, somewhat melodramatic songwriters. Though the transcendentalism of Thoreau and Emerson provided us with a similarly successful literary device for two centuries, the delivery is exceptionally suited for Matsson’s music. Appropriately enough, the talented Swede sounds nothing like the indie-pop the country has been stereotypically churning out enjoyably in massive numbers. In fact, I would have taken him for an American if I had not known prior of his geographical origins. His style of folk takes plenty of dues from rootsy Americana, with his soulful croon embodying the genuine ardency that western folk music has come to be known for.

Folk remains Matsson’s primary stylistic preference, but he also weaves in elements of finger-picked blues (Piedmont blues) to provide a reminder of artists like Mississippi John Hurt and Curley Weaver. To make the sense of nostalgia even more suitable, Mattson utilizes a form of production that relies on both his raspy vocals and instrumental minimalism. The lo-fi approach is overwhelmingly appealing when applied to Matsson, and it mainly has to due with the fact that his lyrics are constantly invigorating. Considering they play such a large role and are impossible to avoid due to the minimalist style of production, his poetic talent provides a breath of a relief. Also, the fact that his debut, Shallow Grave, sounds like it was recorded on a random tape machine is part of its lo-fi charm; it is the same method that made the preceding EP so uniquely enjoyable. I admit that, like Dylan or any artist in a similar vein, not everyone will find themselves growing easily accustomed to Matsson’s vocal style. It has a sense of intimacy to it that usually only songwriters that are old in age and bountiful in experience encompass, being unconventional in the most broadest sense. I personally was enamored with it the first time I heard the opening track on Shallow Grave, the fantastic “I Won’t Be Found”. Rather than simply repeating “carpe diem”, Matsson signifies the importance of treasuring every moment in life, looking upon death as an imminent circumstance that can only be enjoyed if its preceding life was lived to the fullest extent. Over a fastidiously plucked guitar progression, he sings ardently and establishes time as a component that should be treasured. “Well if I ever get to slumber just like I’m old deep in the ground, hell, I won’t be found.” “Into the Stream” features a more simplistically repetitive progression that is excelled by Matsson’s vocal melody and the slight melodic transitioning that takes place after each verse. This time around, Matsson tackles the obstacles in turning a fantasy into reality. Using natural elements like alternating weather with metaphorical significance, the values of societal perception are also put into question, eventually settling on circumstances that are widely dependent on the individual. As far as recent folk artists go, I have heard very few that compare to Kristian Matsson’s raw skill as a lyricist and songwriter.

The Tallest Man on Earth – I Won’t Be Found

The Tallest Man on Earth – Into the Stream

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05. Fleet Foxes – Fleet Foxes

Fleet Foxes. Fleet Foxes. Fleet Foxes. The band’s name has been practically drilled into your skull by now. Listeners have debated whether their self-titled debut album deserves all the success it has achieved, primarily because there are always skeptics involved when a rookie band with independent backings ends up in the top 10 for seemingly every year-end list available. I was never one to conform, but I have to go with the masses on this one. Not only has this young five-piece from Seattle crafted an album filled with outstanding songwriting, but they have led an initiative among independent songwriters that has begun to surface more prevalently. Folk music is becoming more abundant as artists become less and less reluctant to try their hand at a style that they were likely raised on; Fleet Foxes have had a substantial role in that movement with their debut full-length. When listening to them, a rather stereotypical image of a bunch of bearded guys playing together in a forest of complete tranquility is somehow stirred up, likely due to the extremely spontaneous nature that Fleet Foxes releases through melodically enriching tracks like “He Doesn’t Know” and “White Winter Hymnal”. Yeah, Animal Collective and Devendra Banhart have generated similar imagery with their interpretations of psych-folk, but that Fleet Foxes have achieved success in such grandiose form through a style of folk that would likely have folk legends like Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie feeling optimistic about the future of a style wrongfully fading due to false stereotypes and a lack of contemporary lyrical perception. What Fleet Foxes do so brilliantly is their simultaneous comprehension of lyrical and melodic aspects. They build a bridge that allows fans of both lyrical imagery and melodic beauty, which is quite refreshing now that it seems that many people today do not have the capacity to cherish both.

For those who prefer to take in all aspects of a song, Fleet Foxes is a remarkable debut that proves worthy of its widespread acclaim. Their sound is prosperously abundant in gorgeous vocal harmonies, stellar hooks, and thickly intricate instrumentation that contains plenty of melodic variation while wisely limiting itself to a few of the conventional instruments that made the traditional folk so memorable. “Tiger Mountain Peasant Song”, one of the most haunting songs of the year, sees nothing but a dual guitar accompaniment accompanying the forlorn vocals of Robin Pecknold. Enriching in harmony, balmy in tone, and impeccable in melody, it would not be an overstatement to say that Pecknold’s vocal performance on Fleet Foxes may very well serve as the best vocal performance of the year. “Tiger Mountain Peasant Song” is just a solid example of this; despite an extremely strong acoustical melody, Pecknold is the primary reason for this song’s success, mainly because the bare instrumentation leaves room for him to shine. He puts so much raw emotion into his performance that it should leave most listeners breathless, especially during the track’s vocally extended chorus. “He Doesn’t Know Why” is also highly rewarding, ushering out an irresistible opening verse that brings shades of Crosby, Stills & Nash to the forefront with its touches of rock and country. A comparison could even be made to Jim James’ notable croon, as both he and Pecknold have the ability to craft stunning melodies using their vocal chords alone. When Pecknold sings out, “there’s nothing I do, there’s nothing I can say”, during the middle of “He Doesn’t Know Why”, this becomes readily prevalent, as does the overall brilliance of an absolute gem like Fleet Foxes. Hyped it may be, but for once it might be at least slightly justified.

Fleet Foxes – He Doesn’t Know Why

Fleet Foxes – Tiger Mountain Peasant Song

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04. Deerhunter – Microcastle

“Indie-rock bullshit”, as Deerhunter frontman Bradford Cox puts it, is something that neither of his two primary projects will succumb to. What he is referring to is a mass customization of styles, one that is grouped in a mold so generic and lifelessly derivative that innovation is put on the backburner behind commercialization and singular ideas. Through both his solo project, Atlas Sound, and the five-piece in which he is the lead singer and songwriter for in Deerhunter, he has certainly proven this, unleashing an unpredictable array of styles that influence that would never be abundantly prevalent in that “indie-rock bullshit” he has so successfully avoided. Punk, shoegaze, electronica, and experimental rock are all forces at work for Deerhunter, resulting in a fused tag that everyone seems to be calling “ambient punk” these days. Their third album, Microcastle, is not purely ambient by any means with Cox’s vocal pitch and delivery being variably dependent on the different styles of play, but the variation often involved in his voice often results in another instrument itself . For example, in addition to making the eerie echoes of “Calvary Scars” more chilling with his spoken-word musings and the post-punk leanings of “Little Kids” even more resounding with a slight snarl, Bradford’s vocals add some desired melody to the fuzz-filled bliss of “Saved by Old Times”. It is just one of several examples of how his vocals serve as a completely separate entity from the melody or tonal structure emitted by the instrumentation, certainly something that would be considered successfully unconventional in our world of “indie-rock bullshit”.

While the bulk of Microcastle consists of sprawling efforts that are filled with unconventional structural tendencies and attentively implemented assortments of styles like shoegaze and punk, Deerhunter throws in a few accessible efforts that should have some introductory fans already yearning for more. Rarely will you find something as straightforward as “Agoraphobia” on an album that involves Cox, even if it still reaches that same degree of success as more epically geared efforts like the volcanic tendencies of “Microcastle” and “Nothing Ever Happened”, the latter being a great choice for the album’s first single with its exciting mixture of alt-rock and concluding selection of soaring guitar solos. The vocals on “Agoraphobia” belong to those of guitarist Lockett Pundt, but it serves as an ideal introductory track as he quivers, “Cover me, come for me, comfort me,” over an array of psych-rock structural variations and post-punk guitar progressions. The majority of side A, with tracks like “Never Stops” and “Little Kids”, reaps benefits similarly: by employing simplistically expressive topics over infectiously accessible instrumental accompaniments. This soon changes though, as expected for a group like Deerhunter. After the piano-led “Green Jacket”, side B commences with some unexplored territory that sees the group’s more embellished shoegaze and “ambient punk” directions. Throughout the album, an atmospheric touch is always wavering above the songs, like in the ghostly murmurs of “Green Jacket” or the trickling psychedelia of “Calvary Scars”, and they are all so diverse from one another that the album’s listening experience proves to be one of the most fascinating of the year. And this is the reason why Deerhunter have become so renowned; ingenious songwriting, a firm grasp on atmospherics, and raw emotion are the main forces at work for Bradford Cox and co’s brilliant Microcastle.

Deerhunter – Agoraphobia

Deerhunter – Microcastle

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03. Bon Iver – For Emma, Forever Ago

On For Emma, Forever Ago, it is utterly amazing how Justin Vernon has done so much with so little. Like the aforementioned Kristian Matsson, he has crafted an album of pure splendor by using little more than his voice, an acoustic guitar, and some damn strong lyrics to accompany them. The album’s story is an old one by now: Vernon secluded himself in Wisconsin to a deserted cabin, placing himself in socially desolate circumstances for the eventual craftwork of For Emma, Forever Ago. I suppose you can see the parallel to Thoreau’s Cabin at Walden Pond, another artist of sorts who used social desolation to write his most renowned work, Walden. That For Emma, Forever Ago is Vernon’s solo debut makes it unpredictable as to whether it will be considered his definitive opus, but it certainly would not be an insult if it were to be. After all, the album has already been called a modern classic for several reasons, one of which relates to Vernon’s ability to relay such strong emotional commitments while using little to no technological edge. Listening to this album, it is apparent that it could have been written either in the early 20th century or the 21st century, already giving it that “timeless” tag that folk releases often strive for and then fall short of because of either restrictive tendencies or technologically expansive techniques. While the production of For Emma, Forever Ago is superb with its use of overlapping vocal harmonies and different guitar tones, it is the overall songwriting and vocal usage that stands out more than anything.

As far as Vernon’s vocals go, he possesses a range that any striving vocalist would envy. They are both soothing and warmly reverberating, allowing his slight falsetto to emerge without becoming too straining or overwhelming. This can be best seen on a track like “Skinny Love”, where even the opening moments prove indicative of his expansive vocal arsenal. When he chants “my, my, my” during the first verse, I can’t help but envision Vernon having some sort of soul influence. When he says, “Come on skinny love,” it sounds as if he is biting his teeth down in frustration, maintaining his utmost coherence in the process. When the highly ardent chorus enters, one can’t help but be impressed by Vernon’s melodic diversity as well. His soulful croon makes a slight transition to a bluesier demeanor as he concludes with a few free-spirited howls. “Lump Sum”, while more melodically linear than “Skinny Love”, packs a heavy emotional punch that can be attributed to both the spine-tingling touch of reverb in Vernon’s quivering vocals and his lyrical output. “Fit it all, fit it in the doldrums… or so the story goes,” he sings over a lightly strummed acoustical progression, alluding to a reluctance of looking toward the future rather than a current state of stringing onto the past and present. Like “Lump Sum”, his topics are often highly relatable in their tone and delivery, contributing to the impeccable craftsmanship of a folk release that already has “classic” written all over it.

Bon Iver – Skinny Love

Bon Iver – Lump Sum

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02. TV on the Radio – Dear Science

Ah, the annual safety pick for the year. If there is one album in 2008 that remains indisputably one of the best, then TV on the Radio’s fourth album, Dear Science, has to be it. It is quite startling that their third album, Return to Cookie Mountain, was in this exact situation two years ago, though it simply attests to both the band’s level of consistency and their relationship as a group that attributes to it. Like on Return to Cookie Mountain, Dear Science sees all three of the group’s primary members – Tunde Adebimpe, Kyp Malone, and Dave Sitek – each flourish based on their own unqiue strengths. Adebimpe and Malone are astoundingly ardent vocalists in their own right, and a tag team consisting of them simply makes all the better. Sitek, a highly sought-after producer for several years now, mans the studio controls yet again for his expectedly sparkling production. Thanks to his work as producer and the high standards involved for the songwriting of all three members, you could very well call Dear Science the most technically refined album of the year. In addition to the group’s level of collaborative musicianship and Sitek’s production abilities, it is rooted primarily in the stylistic diversity of the album and how each and every track succeeds resoundingly despite the majority of them proving to be highly separable stylistic entities from one another. That they are also able to cloak arguably their bleakest lyrical content to date under some of the most infectious compositions you are bound to hear this year is simply another reason to cling onto an album that can be unanimously called a major accomplishment.

Whether TV on the Radio choose to focus on the sentimental bearings of “Family Tree” and “Love Dog” or the immensely danceable ruminations of “Dancing Choose” and “Golden Age”, it is simply remarkable that the result is always rooted in success. “Family Tree” leads the way as the album’s central ballad, emitting a delicately slow-paced piano over Adebimpe’s embracing vocals. “And in the shadow of the gallows of your family tree,” he sings as percussion and strings begin to establish their involvement. “There’s a hundred hearts or three, pumping blood to the roots of evil to keep it young.” The scene is highly metaphorical and topically brilliant, a highly commendable aspect that the equally successful instrumentation and vocal power practically demands. When “Family Tree” is directly followed by a track that contrasts sharply with a very flamboyant style of soul in “Red Dress”, the conclusion of that should convince listeners of this group’s high level of stylistic perception. Adebimpe and Malone combine forces here under a flurry of brass and bustling rhythm section, revealing an energetic side that “Dancing Choose” also demonstrates with Adebimpe’s fast-paced delivery over a collection of synthesizers and funk-tinged bass lines. For every track like “Dancing Choose” or “Red Dress” though, there seems to be a soulful ballad like “Family Tree” or the fused orchestration of keys and brass in “Love Dog” to complement it in the most thoroughly satisfying way possible. The stellar songwriting and excellent production are a few of the reasons why TV on the Radio’s Dear Science is arguably the most universally acknowledged “album of the year”, but it is the seamlessness of the group’s stylistic transitions that truly makes this album a classic.

TV on the Radio – Family Tree

TV on the Radio – Dancing Choose

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01. My Morning Jacket – Evil Urges

As it stood before the production phase of Evil Urges, My Morning Jacket had little reason to try anything new at all. After all, their previous album, Z, was one of the most critically acclaimed albums of 2005 and was prematurely being described by many as the group at their creative peak. I suppose the acclaim was imminent at the time, as it was their most varied effort before the release of Evil Urges. Their first two albums, The Tennessee Fire and At Dawn, brought the group plenty of buzz but they found it initially difficult to escape the linear classifications of alt-country that critics granted them, mainly due to the determinable sound that frontman Jim James and company were just beginning to confidently grasp. Though not as consistent in quality with the first two albums, It Still Moves was the group’s first step in their ambitions to become a rock act where stylistic classifications were made on a per-song basis and not based on a singular career. Z simply perfected James’ approach as an impressively unpredictable songwriter, mixing anthemic indie-rock tracks like “Anytime” and “Lay Low” with tinges of reggae in “Off the Record” and reminiscences of their classic alternative sound in the opening “Wordless Chorus”. Even if the increased eclecticism was subtle for many listeners, the changes were evident for veteran fans. In a matter of 6 years, My Morning Jacket evolved from just another alt-country band into something of bigger, more epic proportions. Instead of sticking with southern stereotypes, comparisons were being made to The Flaming Lips and R.E.M, both artists who – in a sense – revolutionized the way that modern artists in their respective genres would tackle songwriting. And with the release of Evil Urges, such commendable sentiments are stronger than ever.

Like several My Morning Jacket albums before it, the opening track on Evil Urges serves as a gradually satisfying experience that increases in memorability with each successive listen. Also serving as the self-titled track, the heightened pitch in James’ vocals during “Evil Urges” will catch listeners off guard initially, but the summery guitar progression and brisk rhythm section will soothe any concerns about the track going stylistically overboard. As James’ vocals become more familiar and the rebounding melody begins to engross the listener, sudden enhancements like the slight dosage of strings during the chorus’ second entry become more noticeable and rewarding. Like preceding greats in the vein of “Anytime” and “One Big Holiday”, it concludes gracefully with a stirringly effective guitar solo before the infectious chorus is recapped once more. The following track, “Touch Me I’m Going to Scream”, is unlike anything My Morning Jacket have attempted before, utilizing a synth line as the primary instrumental force. The synths clash fluidly over a constant bass line, bringing up unlikely comparisons to Prince and The Flaming Lips in the process. I guess you could call the soothing key-aided “It Beats For You” a distant cousin, but even that particular track had guitar-led arrangements that were expected of the band. If it were not for James’ distinctively soaring vocals, many would not be able to tell that “Touch Me I’m Going to Scream” was from My Morning Jacket at all. It remains oddly addictive though, even if the style contained in the track and its 8-minute counterpart (“part two”) differs dramatically from the rest of the album.

It was certainly an odd choice to stick “Evil Urges”, “Touch Me I’m Going to Scream”, and “Highly Suspicious” as the first three tracks on Evil Urges, as they can arguably stand as My Morning Jacket’s most unconventional efforts to date. “Highly Suspicious” is inarguably the most bizarre on the album, led by hardly much more than James’ apparent falsetto, a booming bass line, and steady percussion. The chorus adds a few halted guitar chords as James and a few deeper-voiced companions chant “highly suspicious!” over the eventual whirring of a synth. Being the second track in a row that reminds me of Prince (and enjoyably so), I would not be surprised if the majority of listeners refuse to take it seriously. And hey, who’s to blame them? Looking back, the decision appears wise to slot these 3 tracks together, as the rest of the album contains a similar degree of variation that is more conventional in regard to My Morning Jacket’s stylistic standards. The fourth track, “I’m Amazed”, immediately puts the listener back in the warm embrace of classic My Morning Jacket, re-introducing James’ distinctive croon as was heard in the first four albums. Like “Anytime”, it proves further that James’ ability to write an anthemic track – regardless of whether its in the vein of indie-rock or alt-country – is something of a rare skill. The first two minutes consist purely of radio-friendly alternative, with the remainder being a captivating guitar solo that coincides precisely with the backing chorus. In terms of tracks that would fit just as well on early My Morning Jacket material, only the strangely nostalgic “Smokin’ From Shootin'” and simplistically endearing “Look At You” come close. It ends up being commendable though, as I have not even touched upon the best moments of Evil Urges yet.

Jim James clarified in an interview several months ago that “I’m Amazed” would begin the “second phase” of the album, following the first three tracks that somehow went “together in this weird way.” The group has been known to perform with fully accompanied orchestras during their live performances lately, and several excellent tracks during the “second phase” like “Sec Walkin'”, “Librarian”, and “Thank You Too” utilize this new approach with confidence, swagger, and resounding success. “Sec Walkin'” manages to recall classic country with the overlapping of reverbed keys and guitars as James puts his full southern accent on the table, deepening his voice to a suave croon with contained influences of Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, and Carl Perkins. “Thank You Too” sports the album’s most grandiose chorus, supplemented by a swirling arrangement of strings and James’ limitless vocal range. And as oddly creepy as the lyrical content is, the build-up of strings in “Libraries” is too masterfully executed to ignore. The insanely catchy “Two Halves” recalls an accessible, pop-oriented Roy Orbison in its recollection of ’60s rock ‘n’ roll, serving as the most immediately satisfying track on the album. It is in close competition with “Aluminum Park” though, a roaring rock ‘n’ roll ditty in which James into some ardent hybrid of Springsteen and Meat Loaf during the song’s exceptional chorus. All of the influences may be hard to classify initially, but one thing is for certain; My Morning Jacket are proud to wear them on their sleeves. And when a band of My Morning Jacket’s ingenious talent has the maturity to embrace their past influences and implement them fluidly into a contemporary sound, the result sounds something like Evil Urges. It may not be the most technically precise or emotionally demanding album of 2008, but Evil Urges is the most fun I have had listening to an album all year.

My Morning Jacket – Sec Walkin’

My Morning Jacket – Two Halves

My Morning Jacket – Aluminum Park

My Morning Jacket – Evil Urges

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The post Best Albums of 2008: #10 to #01 appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Though there are still a few underexposed albums from 2008 that I will feature in the coming weeks, it is most certainly not too early to move on to 2009. We have only slightly more than three weeks left and, with the “Top 50 Albums of 2008” being published next week, I figured it would be nice to spur up some excitement for the upcoming year. A convenient way to do so would be to listen to Vacilando Territory Blues by J. Tillman, a folk songwriter who is perhaps best known as the drummer for one of this year’s breakthrough artists, the Seattle-based Fleet Foxes. With his band’s self-titled debut proving to be one of the most talked-about releases of the year, Tillman has found himself at a rather strong place for dramatically increasing the recognition of his solo project. Although he has flown somewhat under the radar since his first slew of releases in 2004, his material has always shown a form of potential that has many convinced of Tillman’s imminent breakthrough. Some may consider it insulting if I said that Fleet Foxes’ will likely be a major contributor to his success as a solo artist in 2009, but I refer purely to the aspects of exposure. The quality in his music undoubtedly represents a clear vision and studied talent, but this does not always equate to widespread recognition. Being a major component in one of this year’s most acclaimed groups should lead to a higher interest level in Tillman’s work, leading to the increase in audience that his music truly deserves.

The beginning of Josh Tillman’s music career traces back to New York City in the beginning of this decade, when he was a college student. After honing his experience as a drummer by participating in a handful of gigs with Saxon Shore, he relocated to Seattle and began touring with promising folk acts like Damien Jurado and Rosie Thomas. Around this time, Tillman also began touring under his solo name of J. Tillman to gauge the reception on a variety of songs he had written. This evolved to the release of several albums released via CD-R, which he distributed personally at shows and through the Arizona-based KEEP Recordings. I Will Return was released in 2005, with Long May You Run, J. Tillman and Minor Works being distributed the following year. The September release date of Minor Works also coincided with Tillman signing with the French-based Fargo Records. The label also went on to release both I Will Return and as a single package the same year, making all of Tillman’s releases to date widely available in some form. The release of the LP Cancer and Delirium in 2007 saw Tillman sign on to yet another label in Yer Bird, marking his most elaborate album to date. As you can see, for someone with so much talent and so many label changes in such a short period of time, Fleet Foxes’ success could not come at a better time for both Tillman’s status as their drummer and a solo artist in his own right.

Additionally, now that three of Tillman’s LPs (I Will Return, Long May You Run, J. Tillman, and Cancer and Delirium) are available via iTunes courtesy of Autumn Tone Records and his other one, Minor Works, is available via Undertow Music, it gives people no excuse not to check his material out. It is a generally fascinating journey to check out his releases in succession, as his evolution from a rather minimalistic folk songwriter to one that incorporates elements of folk, pop, and indie-rock into a very enjoyable formula is done enjoyably without being too forceful or overbearing. If anything, it offers up-and-coming musicians a very admirable approach on how talent can evolve through patience and experience over commercialized desperation. It is heavily apparent that Tillman is going to find widespread success eventually, and it looks to be quite soon too with the upcoming release of Vacilando Territory Blues on January 20th. Coinciding with how his albums seem to get better with each passing one, Tillman’s newest effort proves to be his most consistent to date. While other January releases from the likes of Animal Collective, Franz Ferdinand, and Andrew Bird may be receiving the most attention at this point and time, it would be a shame to overlook this gem. I will say this much: If it were being released this year, I would have to shuffle around some albums to make room for it on my Top 50.

In comparison to his work with the psych-folk leanings of Fleet Foxes, Tillman’s approach on Vacilando Territory Blues is rawer, darker, and ultimately less reliant on ambitious methods of production. Not to take any jabs at Fleet Foxes – because their songwriting is extremely impressive – but some of their material’s success can be attributed to some brilliant production, which is to be expected considering their highly contrastable style of psych-folk. Like his previous albums, Tillman’s Vacilando Territory Blues is a representation of his sheer ability, whether it be through his gorgeous songwriting, the captivating quiver of his consuming vocals, or the beautiful lyrical imagery he is able to convey. The production is certainly sharp, but there are no underlying subtleties that alter the presentation in any significant form. “Firstborn”, for instance, is led initially by nothing more than an acoustic guitar, with smatterings of keys delicately smoothing out the rough edges. The chorus sees the keys rise into a more prominent spectrum while Tillman delivers a series of haunting “Oooh”s over the climaxing percussion. The track concludes with the chorus being accompanied by nothing more than that initial guitar, reminding listeners that Tillman’s presence alone is strong enough to carry a track into great heights.

As a likely single, “Steel on Steel” is most certainly one of the most jubilant tracks on Vacilando Territory Blues. Lively rhythm section and brass accompaniments are the two main components at work here, with Tillman’s caressing vocals maintaining the same composure despite the instrumental accompaniment’s moments of carefree exuberance and unexpected . It is joyous, yes, and it attests to Tillman’s emotionally eclectic nature as a songwriter. Not only is he able to craft brooding, minimalistic gems like “James Blues” and “Vessels”, but intricately vigorous forms of enthusiasm like “Steel on Steel” and “Laborless Land” are pulled off just as precisely. “Laborless Land” is pure beauty, accompanied by a series of riveting strings that sound simply stunning over Tillman’s vocals. His croon sounds both frail and soaringly majestic, an extraordinary combination that causes even his more linear arrangements like “Master’s House” and “Vacilando Territory” to result in great successes. As an artist who has been consistently releasing quality material for several years now, Tillman’s extremely memorable Vacilando Territory Blues looks to be the one that will give him the recognition he deserves.

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J. Tillman – Steel on Steel

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J. Tillman – Laborless Land

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J. Tillman – Firstborn

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There are always a handful of albums that slip under the radar, for me often causing a strain of regret since I did not discover them timely enough for an inclusion in either of my past two “Best Albums of the Year” features. I have learned to grow somewhat accustomed to this though, as it is impossible to look at literally every release from a given year and provide it with accurate critical judgment. The best I can do is take note of the artist and, if the release proves memorable enough, attempt to write a feature pertaining to the release in the future. Due to qualms of a forgetful memory, this approach is a lot easier to grasp when a respective artist puts out another release less than a year after the preceding release that granted me with such exposure-based regret. This is the case with Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter‘s newest EP, The Gentleness of Nothing, and her outstanding album from 2007, Like, Love, Lust & the Open Halls of the Soul. To be honest with you, I was holding out on featuring this gem from last year for a few months now, ever since I learned that Sykes was in the studio and working on The Gentleness of Nothing with her backing band, The Sweet Hereafter. My intentions were to expose two fantastic releases simultaneously, and the quality of The Gentleness of Nothing certainly looks to make my attempt bode well.

With her uniquely invigorating vocals and talented array of songwriting, Jesse Sykes certainly makes her presence known as the frontwoman. However, she would also be the first to tell you that the amount of collaboration involved in her group’s songs are extremely valued. A vital force in the work of Jesse Sykes is guitarist Phil Wandscher, known to some as the former guitarist in the Ryan Adams-fronted Whiskeytown. Wandscher and Sykes met in a Seattle dive bar in 1998, both searching for a new project to undertake after the dissolution of their previous groups, Whiskeytown and Hominy, respectfully. Hominy was the outfit that Sykes fronted with her then-husband Jim, with the band and marriage fading around the same time she met Wandscher. The meeting was mutually productive, as both musicians immediately felt comfort in their artistically similar dispositions and search for something new and industrious. “I think I knew instantly upon meeting him [Wandscher] that my life would change forever,” Sykes explains. “Together, he and I have been lucky enough to spend our musical partnership with a group of really great, talented people” These talented people she speaks of are the revolving cast of Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter, a collective of sorts that has revolved constantly around the songwriting prowess of Sykes and Wandscher.

As two songwriters who have worked with a variety of artists that range from Ryan Adams to SUNNO))) and Boris, variety is certainly not an issue when it comes to the work of Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter. Their eclectic nature has been active ever since the release of their impressive debut, Reckless Burning, in 2002. Though their style has been rooted in a darker, folkier interpretation of country-rock when compared to that of Wandscher’s first expenditure with Whiskeytown, their early origins are occasionally prevalent over other styles centralized in anywhere from psychedelic pop to straightforward rockabilly. Like, Love, Lust & the Open Halls of the Soul, the group’s third album, was their most intricate yet, capitalizing on a variety of eclectic musical styles and horn-laden arrangements that revealed themselves fervently over the tranquilly raspy vocals of Sykes. Though her age and face still relay the signs of a young songwriter, her voice foretells a form of wisdom that is practically vital when it comes to their successful mixture of country-rock, folk, and numerous other genres that descriptively vary based on the track at hand. When this level of lyrical and vocal skill was fused with such profoundly successful stylistic attempts on Like, Love, Lust & the Open Halls of the Soul, the result proved extremely memorable. On Like, Love, Lust & the Open Halls of the Soul, choice cuts like “I Like the Sound” managed to sound serenely psychedelic while also retaining a hint of upbeat with a series of ardently profound guitar solos, while the radio-friendly stomp of “LLL” proved to be a fantastic display of Wandscher’s skilled country-rock etiquette with a series of ardently profound guitar solos that contrasted flawlessly with Sykes’ engrossing vocals.

Now that the group has released a four-track EP, Gentleness of Nothing, as a follow-up to Like, Love, Lust & the Open Halls of the Soul, I saw the time as appropriate as any to talk about the immense talent of this group. The newest batch of songs is opened by “Be It Me, Or Be It None”, a serene track that is led by the gentle plucking of an acoustic guitar as several psychedelic components – primarily the cooing backing vocals and tranquil means of production – make their way over a very steady guitar progression. The lyrics and melody remains consistent, but the background additions are what make this track truly worthwhile. The EP’s title track stretches over nine minutes, as it makes it way from a gentle guitar-led procession to a vigorously electric section where the group’s rock-oriented fixations are revealed. The transition is seamless though, seeing nothing in the way of stylistic or tonal indecisiveness. My favorite on the EP, though, is “In the Summertime”, a bouncily enjoyable effort that sees a guitar solo and progression overlap over a very dynamic rhythm section to create one of the group’s catchiest efforts to date. This EP is entirely worthwhile, but I still strongly urge anyone interested to check out Like, Love, Lust & the Open Halls of the Soul for a lengthier and more descriptive account of this group’s undeniable talent.

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Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter – In the Summertime

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Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter – Be It Me, Or Be It None

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Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter – Sunday Skin

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I always find local labels to be something of a quaint necessity in the world of independent music. Most major labels could care less where an artist is from when they sign them, but the sense of genuine and personalized commitment that these tiny local labels put forth always proves to be a breath of fresh air when compared to other sickeningly grandiose corporate attempts at commercialism. Sure, the material may not be aided by a team of Grammy-winning producers or hired songwriters, but that is all part of the charm of a DIY local record label. Their selection process is generally limited to their surrounding state or city, with prior press coverage often being of surprising irrelevance. For the slew of good ones, bias is generally nonexistent too, with the only determining factor being the evident talent and showmanship of the artists involved. And even if none of their friends had heard the name of the record label before in their lives, any new artist who gets signed to one at least has this comforting fact to keep in mind: There is actually someone rooting for you who enjoys your music and will do their absolute best in exposing your material to an increasing audience. It may sound like a simple ideology, but sometimes all an artist needs to break through is a little bit of support from his local following.

Though I have yet to find a substantially sized label where I enjoy every single artist on the roster to a noteworthy degree, stumbling across a small label like Don’t Stop Believin’ Records should allow anyone to appreciate what a local label has to offer. With the majority of the artists signed to the label being based out of Seattle, Don’t Stop Believin’ has taken it upon themselves to reveal the best of what Washington has to offer. Out of the 10 artists on their site, only one (Casy and Brian) is based outside the state (California). To give an even better idea of the selfless ideology that a record label in their localized vein employs, several separate artists collaborate frequently with one another. Consider it an accessibly artistic atmosphere, with most artists having the intended goal to reveal Washington as a budding source for quality independent music. The band that I am enjoying most out of all the label’s offerings, The Pharmacy, also proves to be a defining example of this. The two founding members, guitarist Scott Yoder and drummer Brendan Bowers, can trace their origins back to The Terrordactyls, an entirely separate Washington-based band that is also currently signed to Don’t Stop Believin’. Whilst still in high school, both Yoder and Bowers founded The Terrordactyls in the late ’90s with Michael Cadiz and Tyrel Stendahl; the band originally consisted as a quartet before Bowers and Rubicz left the band in 2002 to form The Pharmacy. With both bands now a duo, they both carried on in commendable form.

Apart from consisting of mutual friends and being signed to Don’t Stop Believin’, both The Pharmacy and The Terrordactyls have a strong working relationship with Kimya Dawson, the ex-Moldy Peaches frontwoman thrust to the center of the spotlight after her musical contributions to “Juno”. The Pharmacy toured with Dawson in 2005, building up their reputation as capable live performers while playing as her backing band. The Pharmacy’s early goings consisted of a variety of demos during their first several years together, releasing a single or handful of demos every year or so since 2003. Just released at the end of February, their full-length debut, Choose Yr Own Adventure, is finally available. Now rounded as a trio with the addition of Stefan Rubicz on keyboards, the result is a collection of cleverly executed indie-rock songs with an involvement of guitars, strings, horns, and a variety of synthesizers. Upon first listen, their variability reminded me at times of The Unicorns, though repeated listens reveal a more consistently presented appeal that relies more on conventional structures and widely diversified instrumentation. Their ability to border on electro-pop while simultaneously churning out glimpses of deftly approachable guitar-led rock makes each song a different experience; the impressive abundance of hooks simply backs it all up.

In terms of both instant accessibility and infectiousness, there is not one track on Choose Yr Own Adventure that rivals “Tropical Yeti”. Barely exceeding two minutes in length, this concisely enjoyable indie-rock gem is best demonstrative of The Pharmacy’s potential. “In one more hour I’ll be gone, it takes too much to get along,” Yoder sings with a tugging whine, adjusting pitch accordingly in collaboration with constantly transitioning layers of guitars and keys. He is one of those vocalists that can easily craft an acceptable hook using his vocals alone, relying on melodic comprehension more so than actual range or pitch. “Little Toys on a Shelf” is a better display of the trio’s overall songwriting traits, providing more melodic variation and instrumental congruity. The organ-like keys bounce off in flawless form, with Yoder’s melodically uplifting whimpers being of an extremely enjoyable effect. “Did you drown in all your wealth?” he asks propulsively during the song’s appealing chorus, bringing up topics of superficiality and one-sidedness consistently. For additional songs like “Warm and Untorn” and “Try to Explain” that take solace in the amiable blend of keys and guitars, more of the same accessibility can be found. On the impressive Choose Yr Own Adventure, it would be difficult for the listener to select a moment on the album that proves even slightly mundane.

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The Pharmacy – Tropical Yeti

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The Pharmacy – Little Toys on a Shelf

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The Pharmacy – Warm and Untorn

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In the often fascinating field of archeology, success requires the ability to embrace the past in order to advance the future. All forms of advanced technology have a preceding influence, whether it be in an intricately designed blueprint or simply a bright idea. These rooted influences are highly sought after, with even a slight spark of interest in a location leading to an entire excavation team. In simpler terms, archeology is classified as the study of ancient cultures through excavated material remains and a prime reason for even bothering with the past is to learn and embrace a time where ideals and daily life proved to be radically different. Who knows — a leftover idea from the past may even help mankind in the future. In 1995, Nick Jaina was a budding archaeologist studying in college on the coast of California. Little did he know that the traditional mindset of an archaeologist would help in his musical career. It proved to be an ironic twist of fate, though if one gives a listen to Jaina’s material, it is clear that he does not have any doubts about the occupational flip-flop. After all, like his previous job, his ability as a musician beckons the use of past influences in order to create a modernistic sound that is successfully original and enjoyable. Who knew that such radically differing occupations would have a similar mindset?

After discovering a valuable abalone cross during one of his first excavations at San Juan Bautista Mission (the one in Hitchcock’s “Vertigo”), Jaina figured he would quit the business while ahead. Pursuing a more music-oriented passion, he started playing around coffee shops in San Francisco, later moving to New Orleans and writing a jazz opera after quickly honing his skills. While there, like any up-and-coming musician, he paid the bills by additionally serving as a face painter during Mardi Gras. After relocating to Texas and becoming a regular at the folk festivals there, he somehow made ties with The Be Good Tanyas and became their part-time drummer. After spending time strumming in the coffee shops of San Fran, face painting the drunk tourists in New Orleans, and gaining valuable music experience in Texas, Jaina finally found a steady home in Portland, Oregon in 2001. While housesitting for some friends who were touring in Europe, he took advantage of the recording studio in their house and spent a month recording his debut, The Bluff of All Time. Over the next few years, Jaina produced several albums by the likes of Kitchen Syncopators, Gill Landy, Orangestick, and The Maybe Happening, all while continuing to release his own material.

There is a very interesting aspect to Jaina’s newest album, Wool, that is both haunting and effectively admirable. Being a blatantly piano-led album, the actual piano used throughout the album originally belonged to the late and legendary Elliott Smith, with Jaina being the last person to play it before it was sold to a museum in Seattle. With Jaina taking hold of the piano and guitar in addition to his delicately hushed vocals, Wool saw further instrumental collaborations from friends who added glockenspiels, strings, and percussion. The result is a beautifully interwoven effort, featuring lyrical content that echoes its supplementing instrumentation by depicting elements of human loss, He perhaps puts it best by stating that the lyrics are “as economical as the words in children’s stories, as emotional as journal entries, and as deep as the Bible”. The instrumental aspect of the songs, as Jaina also declares, are all “ballads and lullabies”. Though the slow and fragile pace will not appeal to listeners who yearn for immediate excitement through rapid progressions and boisterous yelps, Wool will certainly appeal to a niche that recognizes quality as a form of emotional sincerity, regardless of volume or tempo.

“Maryanne” serves as a very appropriate opener, with Jaina’s use of keys being displayed in their most absorbing form. His knack for melody is wholly impressive, with the lavishly eloquent use of Smith’s old piano paving the way. Jaina’s voice appears delicate but such an endearing indication does not stop it from revealing his most forthright observations. “This is a tune for Maryanne, died at birth in her grandfather’s hand,” he ardently sings out, “If she were here now she wouldn’t understand the notes we are playing, the words we are saying.” Immediately after the preceding opening line, Jaina introduces the hook by implementing a series of fruitfully effervescent keys as he echoes, “To her it would be just  la-da-da-da-da,” over a reflective melody. Using the character of Maryanne as a sympathetic figure of sorts, the song provides an insightful look at the innocence of children at birth, with the unavoidably vile aspects of the world awaiting them despairingly. His vocals interchangeably become reminiscent of Chris Martin and Paul Simon, with the likeness to Martin being startlingly prevalent in the string-aided “Power”. With the squeaking of a rusting bicycle serving as a fitting underlying effect, “Bicycle” also proves effective in relaying the diminishing of natural innocence through fragile keys and ethereal vocals. Jaina plans to release another album this summer with a full band and, if the quality displayed on Wool is any indication, it should be a great one.

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I admit, I have not heard many successful bands with an unabbreviated name as long as this five-piece from Seattle. In fact, I was surprised to find that they fit their name on their album cover. Boasting a whole 12 syllables, Gary Reynolds and the Brides of Obscurity are out to prove that there are no lengthy limitations to success. With their name actually being the least important aspect of their overall makeup, frontman Gary Reynolds and his four talented henchmen are slowly but steadily making a name for themselves as one of the catchiest indie-rock acts to come out of the Pacific Northwest this year. Though their photos depict a group of older men who appear past the norm of a stereotypical “indie rocker” with dyed jeans and slick hairdos in their early 20s, the cumulative experience of the five band members causes their ideal artistic peak to be more in the present and future than it is in the past. Though the majority of members in Gary Reynolds and the Brides of Obscurity have been basking in a variety of musical acts throughout the past 15 years, their latest release under their current moniker is undoubtedly their best on several fronts.

Having your name preceding the title of your backing band often symbolizes a role of productive leadership and raw talent. Gary Reynolds is no exception. Though the Brides of Obscurity are faultless in their instrumental craft, Reynolds’ engaging songwriting remains the heart and soul of his promising act. He also provides for much of his material’s production process, as he engineered and produced the majority of his releases so far. It must help that he owns Electrokitty Studio, the site of Gary Reynolds and the Brides of Obscurity’s second full-length release, Santiago’s Vest. It is the follow-up to the band’s impressive 2005 debut, Instant Happiness; it was a widespread effort that drew pleasurable comparisons to John Lennon, Donovan, and other legendary British songwriters. In addition to providing lead vocals, guitar, and piano, Reynolds is joined by guitarist Don Durham, bassist Justin Friesen, organist Jeremy Manley, and drummer Perry Morgan. The group manages to execute a cohesive display of power-pop and Americana influences while constantly reminding us of their knack for irresistible hooks, often led by Reynolds’ vocals, guitar, or Wurlitzer. He has the voice of a storyteller, a deep and soulful croon that exhibits an ability to turn a chorus into a moment of absolute magnificence on vocal strength alone. Look no further than the powerful “Sleep” for a credible example; it is one of the best tracks on Santiago’s Vest that never seems to get tiring. Its dynamic chorus, fully supplemented by Reynolds’ vocals, is arguably the finest moment on the album.

Oddly enough, though Reynolds is based out of Washington, his vocals frequently remind me of several Brit-pop greats, particularly an accent-less Damon Albarn. Check out the rollicking sing-along, “Where We Go From Here”, or the harmonious Wall Eyed Girl”, a sympathetic guitar-led tale depicting the similarities between artistic and humane imperfections, for some justifiable comparisons. Though both stray in similar patterns, the repetition seems rewarding because of Reynolds’ sincere melodic recognition. The swift changes of key, particularly during “Where Do We Go From Here”, are often supplemented by a proficient guitar solo or percussive burst. It is there where the Brides of Obscurity shine, incorporating key-based instruments flawlessly with a variety of electric guitars and interlaced percussion. The overlapping approach contained in the varied instrumentation is echoed through the origination of the album’s name, Santiago’s Vest. “The concept is about ordinary things being held up like they have great worth,” Reynolds explained, relaying a story in which he used an intern’s (Santiago’s) leftover vest as a case for his trusty Wurlitzer. With guitars often being the domineering force in indie-rock and power-pop, Reynolds takes pride in using a variety of instruments that often go overlooked.

Though guitars and a steady rhythm section remain vital aspects throughout Santiago’s Vest, I have found the most uniquely beneficial instruments to be in the form of Reynolds’ Wurlitzer and and Manley’s organ. Both the infectious “Everybody’s Somewhere” and “Mrs. Lowe” are highly demonstrative of these instrumental qualities, both reaping in crafty key-oriented execution. “Everybody’s Somewhere” takes a minute or two to kick into full gear but, once it does, Reynolds’ vocals make an irresistible chorus soar. “Mrs. Lowe”, on the other hand, is just as enjoyable in its showmanship, this time showing slight shades of British psychedelia. Strains of organs and the progression of a Wurlitzer during the bridges and choruses make each song an absolute treat, much like Santiago’s Vest as a whole. In fact, the opening “Capital State” is nearly solely dominated by a Wurlitzer and acoustic guitar, being hauntingly enriching considering the lyrical content it tackles. “It looks like you’re flying at half mast,” Reynolds sings, detailing the struggle that many go through in their attempt for artistic singularity. Though the five men in Gary Reynolds and the Brides of Obscurity take nods from a variety of genres including psychedelia, Brit-pop, blues, and folk, their most readily apparent style is that of fun, hook-filled power-pop. Look for Santiago’s Vest when it hits the shelves in February. Mark it up as another great one for ’08.

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Gary Reynolds and the Brides of Obscurity – Sleep

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Gary Reynolds and the Brides of Obscurity – Everybody’s Somewhere

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Gary Reynolds and the Brides of Obscurity – Mrs. Lowe

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