Toro Y Moi, the solo project of South Carolina-based Chaz Bundick, announced his third full-length today. Due out January 22nd, Anything in Return will emphasize hip-hop samples and house, with “darker atmospheres” and more “languid funk” compared to Bundick’s past efforts. A press release mentioned the hip-hop emphasis coinciding with “4/4 beats and deftly employed effects usually associated with house music.” “I’m just trying to make sincere pop music that’s not all processed and bubblegum,” Bundick told Interview Magazine. “Underground isn’t always relevant; I want to see what’s popular, then put my own spin on it.”

The new album’s first single, “So Many Details”, will likely precede its January 22nd release date on Carpark Records. Although this is Bundick’s first full-length since last year’s Underneath the Pine (2011: #11), he has been plenty busy the past year; Bundick released an EP (Freaking Out), a single on Caribou’s Jiaolong label, and a box set entitled June 2009 that showcased material written during the summer of ’09, before his debut album Causers of This was recorded.

Though chillwave has earned somewhat of a shoddy reputation recently with an excess of imitators attempting to excel with style over substance, Bundick crafts some of the most tasteful forms of the style you’ll find. He helped kick-start the movement for a reason. Check out some highlights from his previous work below, along with the new album’s tracklisting. He’s easily one of my favorites.

Anything in Return

1. Harm in Change
2. Say That
3. So Many Details
4. Rose Quartz
5. Touch
6. Cola
7. Studies
8. High Living
9. Grown Up Calls
10. Cake
11. Day One
12. Never Matter
13. How’s It Wrong

MP3: Toro y Moi – “Go With You”

MP3: Toro Y Moi – “Drive South”

MP3: Toro Y Moi – “Freaking Out”

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“Born to Lose” is the first single from Sleigh Bells’ upcoming second album Reign of Terror, out this February. Judging by this single, listeners can expect the same sort of cheerleader-like vocal chants and voraciously fuzzy guitar riffs found on 2010’s Treats, their widely acclaimed debut full-length. Fun stuff as usual.

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The post MP3: Sleigh Bells – “Born to Lose” appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

#50 to 41                   #40 to 31                   #30 to 21                   #20 to 11                   #10 to 01

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20. James Blake – James Blake

There has been a recent eruption of electronic artists, many of them under the age of 25, that appear obsessed with stretching the limits of conventional synthesizer sounds. It goes beyond squiggly and distorted effects that have been common in electronic music for some time. Artists in the vein of a Skrillex or Flux Pavilion prioritize a gearhead ideology, an infatuation with how the synths and samples sound as opposed to their melodic composition. Granted, these are designed more for ecstasy-driven nights out on the club than actual listening. For artists so intent on capturing a one-of-a-kind sound, their songs and resulting atmospheres sound overly similar and thus predictable. Alternatively, James Blake follows the path of artists like Burial and Flying Lotus, who inject emotion and atmosphere in their work to the point where only a percussively overactive remix would place it on an energized dance floor. He’s one of few artists in this overly flexible dubstep classification that’s wisely taking to past greats of dance and trip-hop music, like Massive Attack, rather than touting oneself as a computer wiz. There are different realms of dubstep, and Blake leads a more venerable one that promotes intricate beauty over superficial energy.

Even grouping him outside of any granted stylistic niche, his eponymous full-length perfectly embodies how quality electronica can mimic quality vocal-infused jazz, allowing lyrical sentiments to be enforced through backing accompaniments. “I don’t know about my dreams, I don’t know about my dreamin’ any more,” he sings on “The Wilhelm Scream”. “All that I know is I’m fallin’, fallin’, fallin’, fallin’.” Each fall is accompanied by synth-bass and percussion dropping lower in pitch. When love is referenced, a bubbly synth arpeggio emerges, one that later helps lead toward a soul-powered delicacy complete with irregular beats and grimy ambient distortion. There are plenty of moments like this, yet the most notable aspect is Blake’s willingness to stretch his vocals out and play with deliveries previously unfamiliar to him. “I Never Learnt to Share” rides on his solo vocal chops for some time, with only minimal touchings after that. He infuses vocal layers of varying pitch, again meshing the boundaries of R&B and electronica. James Blake is a stunning album that shows why Blake is leading a movement in electronica, one that will last well after the ecstasy fades.

James Blake – Unluck

James Blake – Limit to Your Love

Official Site / BUY

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19. The Antlers – Burst Apart

The Antlers’ previous release, Hospice (2009: #11), was so emotionally stirring that it made listeners feel personally close to frontman Peter Silberman, like he was a longtime friend or accomplice. It’s easy to account for this attachment, as bands rarely have the ambition to release something as personal as Hospice, a heartbreaking thematic gem about a hospital worker and a terminally ill patient who fall in love. Since it was easy to hear Silberman’s suffering on Hospice, it’s only natural to hope that his follow-up would capture the same emotional ferocity of The Antlers’ previous, but in a way that minimized his suffering. An album of triumph and prevailing, perhaps? The Antlers’ follow-up, Burst Apart, is more musically expansive and infectious, yet still projects the intensely emotional vision as Hospice through whispered hymns, majestic centerpieces, and a feeling of bleak recovery. Some differences are prevalent, however. Burst Apart pays more attention to the musical development than the lyrical themes, opposite to Hospice. On “Every Night My Teeth Are Falling Out”, a reference to dreams that symbolize anxieties about others’ perceptions, Silberman gives one of his greatest vocal performances. Twice he soulfully repeats the song’s title, paving way for an excellent assortment of shimmering guitars and trickling synths more reminiscent of infectious rock acts like Radiohead.

As the anxious themes show, Burst Apart is once again a release consumed by the tragedies of the human subconscious, but with the alt-rock comparisons come a more approachable and infectious sound. Two songs on the album’s second half, “Tiptoe” and “Hounds”, assert what The Antlers have proven before: that they don’t need any substantive lyrics at all to strike an emotional chord. The former is guided by a soft hymnal lull, as if it were recorded in a haunted 17^th century cathedral. The brass that follows then provides a very cinematic feel, akin to the Ennio Morricone’s score on films like Once Upon a Time in America. Along with those more typical of alternative art-rock – like “Parentheses”, a fascinating Radiohead/Wild Beasts hybrid – Burst Apart is a consummately satisfying follow-up to Hospice. In many ways, Burst Apart an apt continuation of Hospice. It focuses on the universally comprehensible study of worries, anxieties, and defeat in ways that are just as personal and affecting. Review>>>

The Antlers – Parentheses

The Antlers – French Exit

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18. Kate Bush – 50 Words for Snow

Kate Bush has assumed a Scott Walker pace since her reign in the ’80s. 2005’s Aerial was her first album in over a decade, so waiting another six for 50 Words for Snow isn’t as daunting. After all, for artists like Bush and Walker, the wait is always justifiable. There’s so much to explore within their albums that revisiting them every few years provides a new experience. 50 Words for Snow, which rivals Bush’s greatest material from the ’80s, has enough quality substance to tide listeners over for another decade. The album comprises seven epics, most exceeding eight minutes and crafting some of the most delicate poetry you will ever hear. The title obviousy evokes the emotions that arrive with winter, though it’s much deeper than that. Bush covers every nook and cranny of the concept, from the warm embrace of being snowed in with a lover to the isolation of a horse buggy lost in a snowstorm . In some ways 50 Words for Snow could be reaching for the perils of seasonal affective disorder, though on grander scale it relates to how the unalterable (the coming of seasons) coincides with the constantly fluctuating prospect of our existence to create something that goes beyond our comprehension. We can only watch and, when given the opportunity to, love. The Eastern philosophies throughout the album are noticeable, as are elusive locations like Lhakpa-La and Mt. Kailash on the sultry twang-driven “Wild Man”. Bush touches on how yearning for isolation often results in social stigma, despite the yearner often holding more knowledge than the accusers. “They call you an animal, the Kangchenjunga Demon, Wild Man, Metoh-Kangmi,” she begins. “Lying in my tent, I can hear your cry echoing round the mountainside. You sound lonely.” The music is most reminiscent of Bush’s material from the ’80s, injecting a lush twang over barren yet dexterous acoustic arrangements. The lyrical introspective is one of her best, as well.

An unlikely duet with Elton John, “Snowed in at Wheeler Street” is one of the most direct narratives on 50 Words for Snow, even if it’s far from straightforward. It delivers a stunning tale of lovers reuniting through various re-incarnations, witnessing everything from the fall of Rome to being on separate sides of World War II — “I hid you under my bed, but they took you away.” After listening to the song several times, which you’ll want to do, the lyrical bookends are particularly devastating: “Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you, but don’t I know you?” Bush begins. “There’s just something about you. Haven’t we met before?” Elton answers with his usual poignancy: “We’ve been in love forever.” The finale finds both clamoring for change. They just want to be together without feeling the loss of another again. The wait for another lifetime is too great. “I don’t want to lose you again,” they both yell, an identical call-and-response. It’s only apt for true loves. And there it is. 50 Words for Snow is full of heart-rendering moments like this, from a genius in everything poetic and emotional. Accompanied by elements of ’80s jangle-pop, minimalist piano, and everything in between, it’s another release showing why Bush is one of the most important songwriters of the past few decades.

Kate Bush – Snowed in at Wheeler Street

Kate Bush – Wild Man

Official Site / BUY

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17. The Weeknd – House of Balloons

The Weeknd broke out with House of Balloons, a stunning incorporation of R&B into recent trends of electronica, namely those of the downtempo and chillout variety. Frontman Abel Tesfaye blows away the mere concept of popular R&B with this mixtape, removing the bland romanticism and overly glitzy hooks in favor of dark mind-bending infusions and daring structural tactics. Comparisons to The-Dream (Terius Nash) have been made, but Tesfaye’s results are darker and more atmospherically demanding. More similarly to Nash, The Weeknd play creatively with many themes typical of R&B, or most genres in general. These include love, sex, and suffering. Apt under hazy and grimy collections of reverbed instruments and flexed samples, Tesfaye often depicts these scenarios from the perspective of someone on the edge — a drug-induced wreck, once-famous victim of delusion, or just anyone experiencing a break-up.

House of Balloons is a moody release that doesn’t stray too far from these topics, but it’s the album’s psychedelic backdrops and Tesfaye’s ardently empowering rhythmic flow that make it one of 2011’s best. These are complete with a variety of guitars and keys, but it’s Tesfaye’s sampling of artists that solidifies his uniquely dark sound. Beach House, Aaliyah, Cocteau Twins and Siouxsie & the Banshees all make an appearance in this regard, most notably Beach House on the stunning “The Party & The After Party”. There are also plenty of original Prince-inspired guitar stylings, especially toward the end of “The Morning”. “Wicked Games” is reminiscent of The-Dream’s more melancholic material, where his voice sounds crisply triumphant even with lines like “Bring your love baby I could bring my shame / Bring the drugs baby I could bring my pain.” The entirety of House of Balloons is suitable listening for a hangover, when one’s hearing is over-sensitive even to the sound of silence. This is an album with just the right amount of mellowness and heartbreak, concocted in an ingenious fashion that feels neither derived nor overly hammy.

The Weeknd – The Party & The After Party

The Weeknd – The Morning

Official Site

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16. Wild Beasts – Smother

It must have been difficult to follow up an album like Two Dancers (2009: #3). It revealed Wild Beasts’ sound as one of the most fascinating in indie-rock, marked by haunting yet fleeting guitar arpeggios, minimalistic yet hypnotizing rhythmic twists, and – of course – the voice of Hayden Thorpe. On some tracks times his voice can sound as frail and beautiful as Antony Hegarty’s. On others, like “Hooting & Howling” or the recent “Plaything”, it sounds more like the tortured cries of Billy Mackenzie — just the right amount of anguish and excitement to complement the darker edges of post-punk and New Wave. Just take a listen to Mackenzie on “Party Fears Two” and you’ll hear distinctive similarities. Mix in a bit of Scary Monsters-era Bowie and the result comes close to Wild Beasts, though the latter is more subdued and without the glam-rock oomph. Wild Beasts sound somewhat grave, more serious than most groups anyway. Unlike a lot of post-punk revivalism, there’s no tongue-in-cheek nature within their songs.In this case that’s for the best. Even with their status elevating due to Two Dancers, Wild Beasts show no sense of immediacy or confinement, instead allowing their songs to build patiently like they on their previous album.

Fans must have breathed a sigh of relief when they heard Smother. After all, it would be easy to dumb down their sound into bland chart-topping British alternative and cash in. Wild Beasts did quite the opposite; they advanced their sound into greater depths, moving in the direction of Talk Talk’s mid-to-late career albums where pop simplicities take a backseat to sensually expanding themes and melodies. Wild Beasts certainly aren’t heading in the direction of avant-garde jazz, but their sound continues to gravitate more toward eccentricities that require tactfulness and patience to pull off. Take “Deeper”, for instance. Its subdued beauty would not be possible if not for the prudent emergence of the chorus, laced ever so gently underneath the verses’ initial guitar strums, which are wisely panned to the far left as to allow Thorpe’s voice to elevate in accordance. The hooks aren’t entirely dependent on Thrope’s voice, though. Far from it. The instrumental cohesion on “Albatross” will take most listeners’ breaths away; pianos and guitars flutter with mirrored precision, the bass and drums assuming a complementary role as usual. With ten songs that enjoy success on their own separate terms, Smother is more complex and analytical than its predecessor, and just as good.

Wild Beasts – Bed of Nails

Wild Beasts – Albatross

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15. Wolves in the Throne Room – Celestial Lineage

Celestial Lineage is a metal album, but not in the way most would think. Staples of traditional black metal like piercing vocals and unsettling eruptions are prevalent, but the production here is done with a graceful expertise that juggles guitars, rhythm, and its resulting symphonic echo to the more cognizant tune of post-rock. This is a metal album that manages to be fun without taking the doom and gloom so many of its listeners yearn for. “Permanent Changes in Consciousness” rides on a huge wave of endless distortion, with piercing screams and hair-metal licks coming into the fold. Songs like this are why Celestial Lineage must be a favorite of most horror movie directors. It’s an album full of unsettling moments and audible fluctuations, but similarly to an artist like World’s End Girlfriend these unnerving moments help make the moments of serene beauty more effective. For example, the solo at the track’s mid-point commences a build-up that mutters a somewhat symphonic echoing, with strings sounding distant due to their deep integration within the guitars.

Celestial Lineage represents a meshing of Viking metal technicality with post-rock production, which more often allows the rampant emergence of various instrumentation already embedded within the initial lead. “Rainbow Ilness” is less developmental but just as effective. It unleashes an onslaught of roaring guitars and frenzied percussion from the get-go. The raspy vocals are slightly overpowered by the instrumental force, but again this choice in production works wonders for unleashing the song’s energy. The final part of the song delivers the buzzsaws, guitar screeching, and skittish ambiance that Norse black metal is known for. Again, these choices magnify the subtleties inherent in subsequent greats like “Prayer of Transformation”, the gentlest effort on Celestial Lineage and one that delivers harps, keys, and wind-gusting ambient sampling with the effectiveness of artists like Sigur Rós and Mogwai. But of course, the tranquility passes; the screaming resumes, the percussion clamors more furiously than ever, and the wall of distortion continues to build until every other instrument is out of sight. By this point in Celestial Lineage, you’ll be welcoming the wave of noise — even if you’re a fan of rock’s more gentler moments. This album is just that convincing.

Wolves in the Throne Room – Prayer of Transformation

Wolves in the Throne Room – Astral Blood

Official Site / BUY

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14. Julianna Barwick – The Magic Place

Julianna Barwick has a simple aesthetic that produces gorgeous results. On any given track off the excellent The Magic Place, she works over a warmly purring synth pad or piano loop, sampling her voice in a variety of pitches and melodic deliveries like any instrument. Her songs develop like a blossoming flower; the beginnings appear bleak with only slight color, but as the song grows so does the variety of sounds and overall composition. The end result is always satisfying and fully developed, without any wasted potential. There’s generally no structure to speak of, just a continual build-up process that always comes to fruition. Opener “Envelop” begins as nothing more than a synthetic coo. That it builds up to something greater isn’t surprising. The mere concept of a build-up for loop-based ambiance wouldn’t be. It’s how Barwick transcends it to an ethereal tribal-like whimsy that could feature in the next Lion King movie that separates her from other loop-based performers.

Barwick’s sampling choices breathe life into songs throughout The Magic Place, especially on “Vow”. It’s initially led by a trickly piano melody, front and center as Barwick’s angelic vocals are pushed to the right. A staccato-like percussion and accordion subtly reign over the track’s second half, minimal additions that do just enough to maintain interest. More active efforts, like “White Flag”, bring both tribal rhythms and neo-psychedelia to the table. Barwick’s vocals here are penetrating , holding a note with the duration equivalent to translucent synths washed in reverb. These resulting sounds are swirling and and elemental. Comparisons to pop artists infatuated with classical music are appropriate, as artists like How to Dress Well and Stars of the Lid specialize in similar tactics of canvas-like musical development and tasteful sampling that never overrides a song’s core. Barwick’s approach is more direct than either, but it comes across just as successful, if not more immediately beautiful. The Magic Place projects natural beauty that appears differently with each track, a trait that many artists specializing in ambient and drone lack due to overly technical sampling choices and an over-emphasis on rhythmic transition. The Magic Place pursues the opposite, and is one of the most natural-sounding loop-based albums you will find.

MP3: Julianna Barwick – Vow

MP3: Julianna Barwick – The Magic Place

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13. Junior Boys – It’s All True

It’s All True is the most impulsively pop-friendly of Junior Boys’ four full-lengths, at times even resembling more conventional electro-pop acts like Hall & Oates and Chromeo. There’s nothing wrong with that; many will consider it a step-up from Begone Dull Care (2009: #12), if only for the fact that certain songs on it were overly busy – like if the duo were holding their breaths for too long. With It’s All True, they have exhaled. Stylistic relief is one way to describe it; they sound like they are having more carefree fun than ever. On that note, it’s hard to imagine a better opener than “Itchy Fingers”. Static-y dance-pop synths stab incessantly over a mellow electro-bass procession, with Jeremy Greenspan suavely preparing for the exhilarating chorus. Led by a trickling synth arpeggio, which evolves fully from the synth stabs, it is one of the many outstanding hooks within It’s All True. Even aside from its killer hook, “Itchy Fingers” is a generally flawless opener – especially because it serves as an apt precursor to the album’s other songs. The mid-point variation, with a keyboard mimicking traditional Asian string instruments (much like Jordan Rudess’ electronic demos or Gorillaz’s Schtung Chinese New Year remix), is an infectious little interlude that preps for one last go-around. It works well as a lead-in to the song’s finale, when the whirring arpeggio becomes more prevalent.

The beautifully haunting “Playtime” is one of the group’s greatest achievements, even with its nocturnal minimalism and steadily constructive structure. Trickles of chilly keys reminiscent of the great “Teach Me How to Fight” dominate the track, later to be accompanied by eerily spacey club synths and dribbling Asian strings. The two closing efforts on It’s All True, “ep” and “Banana Ripple”, provide the best conclusion to any Junior Boys release. Neither are particularly startling for them when it comes to style, like “Playtime” and “The Reservoir” are in some ways, but they are examples of what the duo does best: quality electro-pop with infectious complexities in varying realms of choppy percussion, ambient samples, and danceable rhythms. “Banana Ripple” is one of the year’s strongest tracks for that reason, boasting a HUGE chorus that first reveals itself solely over percussion, then bouncy keys, and eventually a Michael Jackson-inspired dance troupe. The playfulness and catchiness floats on forever. It’s All True will disappoint those looking for dark and brooding songs from Junior Boys. But for anyone in need of an ingeniously crafted and addictive example of feel-good electronic-pop, it doesn’t get much better. Review>>>

Junior Boys – Banana Ripple

Junior Boys – ep

Official Site / MySpace / BUY

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12. The Field – Looping State of Mind

In the arena of loop-based albums, the two heavyweights this year were Barwick’s The Magic Place and The Field’s Looping State of Mind. The latter is less beautiful but more stylistically varied, touching on everything from dubstep, shoegaze, and techno. They actually couldn’t be more different. Axel Willner is more obsessed with the manipulation of even shorter loops, leading to these more dance-savvy approaches. What he develops off a five-second loop is impressive enough. That the seven tracks on the aptly titled Looping State of Mind each tout seven different atmospheres, despite dealing in the same exact formula, is even more alarming. A simple loop is repeated continuously, and latter accompanied by thumping bass lines, subtle drum kicks, and fleeting synth arpeggios. It’s not the most intuitive thing in the world, but it continues to work for Willner. The way he mixes various tones and frequencies is the main reason. The primary loop in “Is This Power” is intentionally meant to sound whiny, so the caressing bass is more affecting despite being pushed to the back of the mix. The ominous breakdown in the middle is perfectly executed, producing somewhat of an ominous alt-rock guitar tinge akin to Placebo.

Another highlight, “Burned Out”, has a sharp Old Western bite, due both to a rhythm that resembles horses clacking against saddles and a loose woodwind that seems destined to resonate in a prairie. A twinkling piano melody gently assumes the lead later on, resembling a more post-modern infusion. It feels like a journey through time, its most memorable moments stuck in an endless loop. Many of the tracks on Looping State of Mind share this feel. “Then It’s White”, with its tranquil piano lead and stuttering vinyl clacking, sounds like it should be set to home movies, while “Arpeggiated Love” is an infectiously robotic stream of melodic machines that sound indebted to both dubstep and shimmering dance-pop. Seven songs, seven completely separable sounds. Willner has struck gold again with Looping State of Mind.

The Field – Arpeggiated Love

MP3: The Field – Then It’s White

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11. Toro y Moi – Underneath the Pine

Underneath the Pine is the finest example of an artist prematurely grouped into the chillwave niche, only to emerge with a sound devoid of any over-attachment to sampling or warm gauzy layers of reverb. This is an album that doesn’t need to cloak anything. The beauty of Chazwick Bundick’s songwriting is beautiful enough to rely on little more than acoustics, if that were to be his chosen path. Not many electronic pop artists could say the same, that their songs would translate well to an acoustic format. The backbone of Bundwick’s songs are consistently strong, whether it’s the floaty acoustic-space vibe of “Before I’m Done” or jumpy high-pitched synth-pop of “Go With You”. The latter is a fine example of excitable synth-pop, which Bundick has discarded for the most part in favor of scenic development and organic psychedelia, the latter of which occasionally results in styles bordering on funk and R&B, like on the swanky “Still Sound” or the downright sexy “New Beat”. Even on “Got Blinded”, which makes room for an explosion of synths after its intro, Bundwick scales back potential electronic overload in favor of trippy organ tremolos. He has justified confidence in his songwriting, a swagger less visible in his previous releases. It’s finally at the forefront with Underneath the Pine, resulting in arguably the finest electronic release of 2011.

Toro y Moi – Go With You

Toro y Moi – New Beat

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The stripped-down sound of Warm Speakers provides an excellent example of modern-day bedroom pop. Long Island native Patrick Berlinquette follows in the footsteps of names like Washed Out, Neon Indian, and Toro y Moi in crafting a sound full of nostalgia, with ‘80s electro-pop meshing with several electronic fusions from the ‘90s onward. For Warm Speakers specifically, Berlinquette touches on the trip-hop/dance infusion perfected by Massive Attack and Portishead. This is especially the case on more subdued efforts, like the hypnotically aquatic and slightly Hail to the Thief-inspired “Where the Comma Lands”. A pulsing drum beat is led by a mellow bass as he interweaves several whispery vocal lines, not too far from the dubstep of Thom York/Flying Lotus collaborations. The percussion is not nearly as involved, but the strong vibrating lead is there. It’s not a surefire single like the effervescent “The World Around You”, but “Where the Comma Lands” is arguably the finest example of Berlinquette’s burgeoning production skills.

Berlinquette’s potential is on full display for Mezcal Noon, his debut 5-song EP. In addition to the beautifully ambitious scope of “Where the Comma Lands”, he offers  a few slightly more accessible efforts that cater to recent trends in electronica. The angelic vocal harmonies and suavely incorporated arpeggio-led hooks of efforts like “The World Around You” and “Waves” fit within the “chillwave” scope of Berlinquette’s most recent influences. The appropriately titled “Waves” mixes Berlinquette’s vocals as if he were entrenched in an underwater cave, a wonderful contrast to the gleeful whistling and booming brass-synth that fills the nook’s surroundings. “Verda” is on the more experimental side purely due to Berlinquette’s vocal dominance. He takes on a colorful electro-pop croon reminiscent of Erasure’s Andy Bell for the track’s majority; it would sound linear if not accompanied by chilling backing vocal accompaniments, a vital accomplishments for many surging artists from How to Dress Well to Wild Beasts. Berlinquette’s smooth vocals are one thing. But it’s his ability to interweave layers of them with such cohesion and beauty into his mesmerizing compositions that make Warm Speakers so memorable.

You can purchase Warm Speakers’ EP, Mezcal Noon, on GroopEase for ONLY $2 over the next 24 hours… I’d get on that. You can also preview the album below:

RIYL: Washed Out, Toro y Moi, Neon Indian, Memory Tapes, Massive Attack, Portishead, Thom Yorke, Radiohead, Flying Lotus, How to Dress Well, Wild Beasts, Erasure,

Warm Speakers – Where the Comma Lands

Warm Speakers – The World Around You

MEZCAL NOON EP by Warm Speakers

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Contemporary interpretations of rhythmically inclined genres, like R&B and soul, have remained a continuous trend. Quality predecessors have already shown the style to appear timeless, so that is one attributing factor, but its abundance today in independent music circles is more indebted to its seamless maneuverability in sampling. That is not a reference to straightforward cut-and-paste samples, but rather the ability of R&B and soul classics to cohesively take on different forms when tempo and sequencing is altered and cross-bred with original ideas.

Combine this with the accessibility of home recording and you find a likely source for a movement that contains names like How to Dress Well, Avey Tare, El Guincho, Toro y Moi, and James Blake. Some of these artists have fallen somewhat lazily into the “chillwave” tag, which fails to render an all-encompassing categorization despite the attempts of some bloggers. There is no need to lump How to Dress Well and James Blake into the same category despite some shared characteristics; they each tout similar influences, but deliver with such different approaches – of varying levels of intimacy, sampling, and structural maneuvering – that any newly concocted genre tags are unnecessary and somewhat insulting to the artists.

Autre Ne Veut (“I want no other”) is a fine example of an artist following in the footsteps of these aforementioned influences, all while sounding completely different from them. It’s a one-man project with virtually no other information; the frontman remains elusive and anonymous – much like Burial, Neon Indian, and Unknown Mortal Orchestra in their earliest phases. He has a voice that resounds with the flamboyant swagger of Scissor Sisters, Erasure, and Hot Chip – combined with a nasally confidence reminiscent of CYHSY’s Alec Ounsworth.  Backing him up is a swanky, grimy, and absurdly infectious swarming of vibrating ‘80s-inspired synths, pulsing drums, and subtle moog bass. On his wildly impressive Body EP – which follows up last year’s acclaimed eponymous full-length – Autre Ne Veut offers up four memorable songs that showcase a dizzying variation of his R&B-meets-swanky-electro-pop sound.

Deliveries on the EP range from the sexy yet straightforward electro-pop of “Your Clothes” to the brilliant sampling of “Not the One”, which repeats She Wolf’s anxious clamoring over an exotic and invigorating composition that only fully stands alone during the final minute. This is easily the song’s best moment after such a climactic build-up; it keeps the listener wanting to delve more into Autre Ne Veut’s clearly impressive songwriting abilities, even if his tendency to write concise pop songs can get the better of him. Instances like this, though, show just how great of an atmospheric builder his compositional skills can be. “Just Return” is highly reminiscent of The Knife, complete with shrieking synths that stab at the listener with a futuristic fury that also takes cues from Kraftwerk.

Perhaps the most notable is opening effort “Sweetheart”, which evolves from a ghostly synth pad and ambulance siren to a full-on anthem with extraordinary dance floor appeal. Expect this one to get a boatload of remixes, hopefully most of them quality. “Sweetheart don’t think we’ll make it out,” he sings before the burst of whirring synths. You can hear glimpses of Of Montreal’s swagger, Cut Copy’s electro polish, and Grimes’ darkly omniscient progressions – but overall Autre Ne Veut is a singularly unique accomplishment bound to make waves.

RIYL: How to Dress Well, Avey Tare, El Guincho, Toro y Moi, James Blake, Scissor Sisters, Erasure, Grimes, Cut Copy, Hot Chip, Of Montreal, Kraftwerk, Burial, The Weeknd

Autre Ne Veut – Sweetheart

Autre Ne Veut – Just Return

Autre Ne Veut – Two Days of Rain (from eponymous release)

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The completely unknown Canopies will not remain elusive for long. That much is easy to predict when listening to “Rebels”, a track that is bound to explode in the music blogosphere.  On their name-your-price EP (download it here), the Milwaukee-based trio have incorporated their love for ’80s synth-pop with recent indie-rock innovations, resulting in an infectious and danceable tour-de-force that should consummately satisfy electronic-minded audiences. The demographic needs something worthwhile to catch their attention, as the surplus of great ’80s throwback dance-pop albums is abundant this year and expectations are high for approval. Recent albums like Ford & Lopatin’s Channel Pressure, Cut Copy’s Zonoscope, and Toro Y Moi’s Underneath the Pine blend nostalgic components differently, but all triumph in crafting a style that borrows retrospective bliss rather than relying on it. These are not glamorized rip-offs of the past. Instead, they apply the past’s best within an modern revised formula; rather than relying entire on an imitation, these artists present a theme consistent with innovation and influence on equal pacing. Canopies are simply the latest, greatest, and most obscure (currently) to accomplish it.

Nolan Treolo, John Marston, and Craig Leren have an astute grasp of how hooks work in electronic pop. Many artists could say the same, but their results are often one-trick ponies with little dramatic flair. Canopies are much different, and it makes them stand up. “Rebels” has a plethora of moments that can send chills up your spine… or down to feet. Bass warbles and a fuzzy synth pad graciously open up it, as the words “raise your fist in the air, isn’t a scare?” are spoken. The slippery bass line alternates between two notes before a quickly intricate swipe concludes each verse, which is resoundingly effective when the icy key tremolo emerges (“Danny load your gun”). The chorus is then pushed forward with natural cohesion, anthemic to the point of fist-raising righteousness but not stuffy in the overly tributary way many electro-pop artists are, primarily in struggling toward their next hook. This format continues enjoyably for another minute, before the track’s triumphant conclusion. A bustling synth arpeggio gives the go-ahead for Marielle Allschwang’s vocals, full of both operatic and sensual range, à la Shara Nelson’s empowering performance on Massive Attack’s “Unfinished Sympathy“.

While “Rebels” is a track destined for popularity, that is not to say the EP’s other tracks are in any way inferior. Actually, they tend to showcase the band’s ambition and range in a broader scope. “Warrior” packs a strong punch as well, being even more of a throwback than “Rebels”. While the synth stabs during the chorus begins to resemble recent psych-pop acts like MGMT, the verses are pure ’80s bliss. The gauzy stretch of synths brings to mind names like Devo and Gary Numan. Yet, as mentioned earlier, the throwbacks are neither excessive nor daunting. The gradually added guitar licks help solidify this point, as does the percussion-led finale. “Strangers Glare” is polished and elegant, filled with stadium-sized hooks that steadily unveil themselves. An immediate comparison is to Talk Talk’s earlier synth-pop work, from the warmly sonorous synth pads to the key-led twinkle at the chorus’ end. The EP’s other two tracks, “Born to Your Device” and “Summer Amnesia”, are just as good; the latter’s energy is reminiscent of post-punk, especially if it was somehow infused into Takashi Tateishi’s Mega Man soundtrack. To close it off, The bouncy Tough Alliance-like pop “Summer Amnesia” is a perfect end to an outstanding debut.

It’s truly a demonstration of character when an unknown band offers their material for free. Especially when it’s a band this good. If you have some cash to spare and enjoy the EP, do these guys a favor and toss a few dollars their way. Regardless of what you do though, download the EP. It left me extremely impressed, and I feel it will do the same to most listeners.

RIYL: Cut Copy, Talk Talk, MGMT, The Tough Alliance, CEO, Washed Out, Gary Numan, Ford & Lopatin (Games), Devo, Massive Attack, Toro Y Moi, Crystal Castles, Neon Indian

Canopies – Rebels

Canopies – Strangers Glare

Canopies – Warrior

Canopies [EP]

Bandcamp

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This site aims to emphasize newer releases, many of which have not been released yet. Several times though, I feel an artist is so criminally under-exposed and relevant to today’s scene that a feature just begs to come out. One of 2010’s most talked-about albums was Twin Shadow’s Forget, a wonderful hybrid of post-punk and synth-pop that accommodated songwriter George Lewis Jr.’s fetishism for Morrissey-inspired emotive new-wave. It attracted glowing acclaim from this site and others, most taking note of Lewis’ ability to make melodically nostalgic music with nods to specific artists who influenced the current indie-rock scene in general. Embracing the most immediate trends in electronic-pop and indie-rock, Forget treads the line between melodramatic romanticism and post-punk angst with beautiful precision. Its tributary cohesion of genres was to be admired, but not as much as the graceful songwriting that accompanied it.

Nicolas Makelberge is essentially what you get would get in a mish-mash between Junior Boys and Twin Shadow. The elusive Stockholm-based duo have gathered a small but steady following since the release of their full-length debut, Dying in Africa, in 2006. The group’s vocals resemble something in the vein of Morrissey or Lewis Jr. with its downcast sobriety, while their music recalls the fascination with swift electro-pop, italo-disco, and atmospheric dance that another duo – Junior Boys – have found success with. Prior to his eponymous project, Makelberge worked as a guitarist for several Swedish indie-rock bands of the ‘90s, but a fascination with electronica and atmosphere turned him on toward a more original path. He named his solo project after himself in 2005 and Johan Tuvesson joined shortly thereafter. The duo’s debut EP, South America, was released later that year; it exposed two standouts from the following year’s Dying in Africa in “So Young” and “South America”.

“So Young” is a near-flawless electro-pop gem in several regards. A thumping electro-bass establishes the lead with a slight snare kick in the back. When the fluttering synth arpeggio appears, the percussion shows its first sign of flexibility. And while the percussion never approaches the mish-mashy intricacy of Junior Boys, it is not a necessity. The work of Nicolas Makelberge is certainly more melodic than it is rhythmic, and this is one of the elements that place it closer to italo-disco and new-wave than the latest crop of electro-poppers. “So Young” is arguably the finest example of the duo’s sheer grasp of melody. The fantastic chorus glistens with a gauzy synth pad, twinkling lead synths, and a sullenly reverbed keys; the latter even resemble fellow Swedes The Tough Alliance to a certain extent. This is especially evident during the final two minutes, when a club-ready synth progresses through several stabs – some monophonic and others polyphonic – to craft a breakdown of epic proportions. Considering the bevy of mediocre pop acts in Sweden climbing the charts, I am shocked that “So Young” never received substantial airplay. It is irresistibly catchy and difficult to criticize.

The self-titled effort from their first EP, “South America”, is a swifter and more pulsating effort that reaches a similar level of infectiousness as “So Young”, albeit with a darker tone. The bass is noticeably heavier and deeper, the synths continuing to glisten but not to the same extent as its effervescent counterpart. Lines like “I’ll drive a fast car in South America” elicit the image of one driving suavely in a convertible as palm trees pass by instantaneously. It is wildly appropriate considering the track’s tendency to maintain consistent repetition throughout, only veering off the road in subtle forms (like the bass alteration around 02:15). It could nearly call itself a precursor to chillwave, though an effort like “Dying in Africa” may be more appropriate for that classification.

With its obvious nods to italo-disco, Dying in Africa’s self-titled effort is clearly one of the album’s strongest. Its stirring synth arpeggio is richly integrated over Tuvesson’s soothing vocals. And even with the occurrence of a hectic drum fill designed for dance floors, the evolving solemn emotions of the track remain in focus. “Love feels so sweet when you’re rejected,” he sings during a beautiful interlude absent of a rhythm section. Before the bass and drums kick back in with the plea of “I can’t get over you”, the music remains entrenched in forms of electronica, but structural twists like these bring to mind Morrissey-idolizing post-punkers. Similarly, the bleakly responsive “If You Knew” offers up lines like “I know you say men are swine, but so are you” over whirring synth pads and contrasting synth lines, easily being the most comparable to Twin Shadow in both lyrical sentiment and musical aim.

For critics that found the style of Dying in Africa to be a one-trick-pony despite its immediate melodic allure, the duo followed up with another full-length, The Unforgettable Planet, last year. Many fans of Dying in Africa were upset to find out that the album included no vocals and was an entirely instrumental effort. Call it an ambitious process or one that was rushed; it is hard to judge whether this was a desperate response to critics or a genuine artistic pursuit. Regardless, it lacks the infectious qualities of Dying in Africa, leaving there much to be desired in its bland arrangements and spotty transitions. Highlights like “The Promiscuity of the Failed Romantic” show glimpses of brilliance, but many of these newer efforts are neither intricate nor interesting enough to serve as instrumental stand-alones. They barely gravitate beyond background music in the most subdued of scenarios. It is not a bad release, just one with a failed premise. If the duo can return to the sparkling and invigorating pop of Dying in Africa, then it should only be a matter of time before Nicolas Makelberge is exposed. In the meantime, their (earlier) material continues to be criminally overlooked.

RIYL: Twin Shadow, Junior Boys, Morrissey, The Tough Alliance, The Russian Futurists, How to Dress Well, Wild Nothing, Toro y Moi, James Blake, The Robot Ate Me, Games, Lower Dens, Baths

Nicolas Makelberge – So Young

Nicolas Makelberge – South America

Nicolas Makelberge – The Promiscuity of the Failed Romantic

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How to Dress Well? The name sounds like some early 19th century etiquette pamphlet. Things like that tend to lose relevance after a decade. But like all remnants, they maintain historical value. Music, like all forms of art, provides timeless durability in the sheer experience of it, even if historical relevance provides varying outlooks on the theme or style. At heart though, the timeless characteristics of art resound consistently; the point in time of one’s experience inspires variables of reception and accessibility, dependent on social and technological standards of the time. But when it comes down to it, the witnessing of art presents feelings conceived no differently than they were hundreds of years ago.

The brains behind How to Dress Well, Tom Krell, provides a twist on the whole experience. His music is instantly familiar, injected with doses of R&B, soul, and pop that actually reach radio-friendly points of accessibility. Of course, when soaked in reverb, adorned with an echoed falsetto, and featuring a modernistic synth-laden sound, the clashing of both varying degrees of accessibility and time periods leaves room for plenty of great ideas. For Krell, comparisons to chillwave trademarks like Washed Out and Neon Indian are imminent based on his production alone. But How to Dress Well fall more in the vein of Ariel Pink, who uses his adoration for ’60s/’70s frontman art-rock to create a sound that is both hauntingly sad and infectiously vibrant. Of course, Neon Indian’s “Deadbeat Summer” just barely shows the extent of frontman Alan Palomo’s undying love for Todd Rundgren. But even the “Izzat Love” sample aside, the song sounded distinctively modern.

Unlike past motivators of the “chillwave” movement, Krell creates a sort of timeless whimsy within his beautifully fragile sound. Their music resounds with no particular decade, instead offering a meshing of both nostalgic and futuristic styles that bring out a variety of guesses from “some ’80s post-punk variant” to “Michael Jackson if he just chilled on blunts instead of pills”. The latter shows some indication of Krell’s obvious rhythmic ability, but more so in his vibrating falsetto that brings comparisons to MJ, Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon, and even at times Antony Hegarty. Krell’s approach is, for the most part, what brings him such individual success though. His high pitch is not supposed to sound this great under a caressing assortment of synth pads and distorted bass. It does though. You really need to have your vocal rhythm down for that. And in that sense, Krell shows some outstanding talent in both his songwriting and vocal work, showcasing an ambiguous enigma that – for once – does not reek of pretension or greed. Just a genuine love for music of the past, present, and future. That is one aspect of this “chillwave” thing anyone could get behind.

Krell’s innovation is evident throughout the bulk of Love Remains, his debut full-length. His song are all treated with such delicate care, but the differences in ferocity are certainly evident. A track like “My Body” is solemn from the get-go, incorporating a series of layered falsetto that sound like a haunted choir. This in particular is reminiscent of Sigur Rós’ Jónsi. “We were known for the choice that we do, I was hoping for the rain, I was hoping for you,” Krell sings after percussion – which is used sparingly throughout Love Remains – enters the fold. The rhythm here is particularly important because the song’s R&B influence is extremely pronounced, with Krell even incorporating the post-verse falsetto yelps that artists like The-Dream show mastery of.

“Suicide Dream 2” is one of the more unclassifiable songs on the album, meaning that comparisons to R&B and pop take a backseat to serene electronica that sits somewhere between ambiance and soundtrack. If anything, the vein of dubstep that Burial specializes in is the focus here. The twinkling synths emit a melancholy feel that steadily repeats, its tempo and volume never shifting. Instead, Krell’s voice is what exhibits the emotional transitions; he is able to craft stellar hooks on his own with rare preciseness. His unconventional pitch is often the culprit of emotionally-charged mastery. Songs like “Escape Before the Rain” rely on little more than a simplistic piano progression, as echoey click-clacking and whirs of synth in the background provide a deeper audible experience. But Krell’s voice is almost always the emphasis, even around the 01:45 mark when he gives way to the piano loop. His return is imminent of course, and as soulful as ever. I can nearly guarantee that he is going to give chills to any attentive listener (and by attentive, I mean this is the type of artist that you must use good headphones or a stereo to listen to).

A flurry of funk is present in the vibrant rhythm section of “Endless Rain”, which incorporates a DJ Shadow-like loop clip for gradual accentuation. It would be really great to hear a studio version of “Walking This Dumb”, but the live version presented on Love Remains is more than adequate quality. The little crackle in the live bass just adds to the allure. This is certainly one of Krell’s more dance-heavy songs, riding on a distorted chorus that sounds more Girls Aloud than Burial. The intensity of the following song, “Date of Birth”, brings us back to an intenser Krell though. His panting during the progression of string-like synths flows into a distant echoed croon, the song fading out as it progresses. Like most of Krell’s songs, it would fit perfectly as a soundtrack to a dream. Whether the dream is a haunting nightmare, sex-charged romp, or adventure on a night bus is up to you.

RIYL: Burial, Washed Out, Neon Indian, Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti, Gauntlet Hair, Memoryhouse, Toro y Moi, Wild Nothing, Active Child, Best Coast, Beach Fossils, Pure Ecstasy, Big Spider’s Back, Cults, Tanlines, DOM, Memory Cassette, Kisses, Eternal Summers, Golden Ages, Nite Jewel

Official Site

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In crafting what is deemed personally nostalgic, Dan Lopatin and Joel Ford share a fondness with many others in their late 20s or early 30s. Young enough to remember the ’80s peaks, yet too old to concern themselves with the decade’s abundance of conformity, their songwriting recalls the more innovative attempts at stylistic fusion during the decade. Re-workings of vintage ’80s sounds tend to be more respected than modifications of psychedelic pop, funk, blues, or other genres that are certainly nostalgic in their own ways, yet do not possess the flexibility to be incorporated into the popular music of today. The relatively recent infusion of sampling into music has been very friendly to two genres particularly: ’70s soul and ’80s pop. The soul music, often of the famed Philly variety, has a boatload of strings and soaring vocals, both smooth and continuous enough for seamless sampling. The ’80s are known prominently for the emergence of electronic components like MIDI and synthesizers, but the decade’s frequent re-appearance is also fueled by the fact that the “creative” tag was handed to old genres in new (electronic) clothing all throughout the decade. With their project Games, Lopatin and Ford ride with the fuel of artists that succeeded in such a manner, all while their own project reaps in its own originality.

Games’ music is constantly in motion, whether applied to the sampled vocals or trembling twinkle of keys, and the pulsations of bass clash appropriately with echoing keyboards to create the ethereal quality of Games’ sound. They are able to blend samples of various pitch and delivery with instrumentation that is gushing with serenely intoxicating products of a sound influenced by funk, soul, and most electronic-aided genres with the word “fusion” in them. The comparisons to sample-based masterminds like Air France and Avalanches are easily made with a sound that steps beyond the restrained realm of “chillwave”, where soothing production tendencies are often a priority over song development. This is not to say that Games’ songwriting is more refined than the atmospheres they present though, because that would not be true. The duo sometimes want to impress audiences with a gorgeously placed sample or tempo-laden stutter, neglecting a talent of hook manufacturing that peeks its head in “Everything is Working” but does not truly emerge until “Heartlands”, a riskier track that shows Games’ adventurous tendencies in the best possible light.

“Everything Is Working” is one of those alarming efforts that makes a linear, repeating sample entertaining for several minutes. The duo throw different twinkles of keys, bells, and woodwinds at the overlapping vocal samples, multiply layered to give the song some definitive structure outside of the casual percussion and padded synths. The downbeat tremolo of keys during the song’s second half provides some much-needed tonal diversity, but it still is pretty extraordinarily how enjoyable the final result is with this in mind. It would have been so easy to turn a track like this into some ambient music for a pretentious art film, but instead Games turn it into a scenic achievement of thematic summer very much in the vein of Air France’s “June Evenings”. Sit back and relax… this song does all the work for you.

The excellent b-side on the 7″ of Everything Is Working, “Heartlands”, is probably a more impressive artistic achievements due to its capricious nature. The swanky tube synths immediately recall a trashy ’80s funk vibe, which comes across perfectly under a vocal sample as flamboyant and stereotypical as this falsetto-lined one. Here, Lopatin and Ford construct elements of noise to serve as pretty explosive hooks, like around 50 seconds in when a wolf howl of sorts signals percussive changes and a messy stab at organs. Despite how cluttered this had the potential to sound, the organization on “Heartlands” is impeccable and is one of the primary reasons I think Games is going to be a huge project. Not just that the song has organized variation, but also that the duo clearly are treating their influences the right way. Of course they will always have a handful of songs where the atmosphere transcends middling songwriting, but these two efforts show that Games are among the elite of sample-friendly electronic-pop groups.

RIYL: Air France, Avalanches, Panda Bear, Washed Out, Neon Indian, Toro y Moi, Nite Jewel, Memory Tapes, Beach Fossils, Best Coast, Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti, Real Estate

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Games – Heartlands

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Games – Everything Is Working

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Official Tumblr

The Curatorial Club

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by Jay Mattson

If you haven’t heard Sleigh Bells yet, you haven’t been listening hard enough.  If you have heard Sleigh Bells, your hearing (and speakers) have already taken quite a beating.  In late 2009, Derek Miller and Alexis Krauss rose out of the mist of the CMJ Music Marathon and dropped a treble-saturated bomb onto the underground music world.  The band’s first single, “Crown on the Ground”,  is a monstrous song; it surges with an energy rarely seen in today’s indie scene.  It’s not surprising, though, as Miller used to be a member of hardcore outfit Poison the Well.  What is surprising is about Krauss’ musical background is her involvement with girl-pop group Rubyblue.  Somehow, one part hardcore guitarist + one part pop princess = gritty, infectious noise-rock.  CMJ was the beginning of the Sleigh Bells onslaught, but it was just that: the beginning.

In early 2010, Sleigh Bells was confirmed to play both Coachella Music & Arts Festival and Pitchfork Music Festival.  Overlapping acts between Coachella and Pitchfork isn’t uncommon (see Beirut in 2009 and Pavement this year).  Miller and Krauss, though, succeeded in booking two of the major indie music festivals this year without a proper release of any sort. With only a single (technically unreleased) CD-R under their belt, Sleigh Bells still managed to catch the attention of anyone who heard them.  In love-it-or-hate-it fashion, some listeners have trouble getting past their utterly forceful jams, others can’t get enough (myself included).

The third track on their demo disc, 2HELLWU CD-R, “Beach Girls”, shows how versatile Sleigh Bells aims to become.  While not veering from the over-the-top treble work of “Crown on the Ground”, it is a different kind of noise.  Synthesizers play a heavy roll on “Beach Girls”, which adds to the motif of the track and feels like a dystopian version of what a beach jam should be.  With “Infinity Guitars”, yet another facet of Sleigh Bells is revealed to the tune of murky, dirty ’90s rock mixed with a beat-conscious producer.  My favorite track on the CD-R has to be “A/B Machines”, a song that swells with a twisted, gnarled melody that would make Jesse Keeler and Sebastian Grainger cringe with excitement.  Oddly, the ‘title track’, “2HELLWU”, is the most soft-spoken, tender track of the bunch, with only minimal backing for Krauss’ impeccable vocal style.

Recently, Miller and Krauss released the first single from their debut album, Treats. Aptly named “Tell ‘Em”, it is a confident showing of excellence.  Seeing as this track will probably be the first Sleigh Bells song heard by a broader audience, it delivers a sincere and powerful representation of the material we’ve already heard.  Power-guitars and smoldering drum work succeeds in destroying my speakers (yet again) while pulling me in so hard that I can’t turn it off, even to save my poor Korean-brand sub-woofer from certain doom.

It’s hard to categorize Sleigh Bells.  Today, a venerable volcano of lo-fi indie pop/rock has been erupting from the New York scene (see Vivian Girls, Cymbals Eat Guitars, etc.). Miller and Krauss have taken elements of this scene and infused a grandiose sense of noise and rock so succinctly that it feels effortless in the face of so many down-tempo acts who rigorously attempt to provide their own uniqueness in a sea of similar bands.  If Treats doesn’t deliver, it might be one of the biggest letdowns of the year.  But that doesn’t seem likely.  Sleigh Bells has, thus far, shown impressive ability to create amazing music, and that momentum doesn’t seem to to be slowing down any time soon. Treats is out May 11th on N.E.E.T and Mom + Pop Records.

RIYL: Dum Dum Girls, Best Coast, Toro y Moi, Neon Indian, Real Estate, Beach Fossils, Phantogram, Smith Westerns, Titus Andronicus, Beach House, Zola Jesus, Girls, Penguin Prison, Delorean, Eternal Summers

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Sleigh Bells – Ring Ring

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Sleigh Bells – Beach Girls

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Sleigh Bells – Crown on the Ground

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MySpace

2HELLWU

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