by Matt Keefer

Frontman Wayne Coyne approaches the tour at his own pace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

M: Do you have anything new on the horizon?

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Flaming Lips – Race for the Prize

The Flaming Lips – Fight Test

The Flaming Lips – It’s Summertime

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by Josh Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Julian Shah-Tayler – Everything Is You

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Julian Shah-Tayler – Wetter

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

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Impossible Things Records

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As our pleased ears have told us, bands that form with members from other influential bands are usually victorious. In regard to these sometimes-called “supergroups”, one reputable name is Jonathon Donahue, whose short but praised presence in both the Flaming Lips and Mercury Rev make him a rare example of a musician treading between two of the most acclaimed acts in a given genre and time period. The Rassle contains four members that can relate somewhat to Donahue, at least in his juggling of work between two bands that some consider chronologically suitable rivals. The Rassle, which focuses on reviving the post-punk sound, has extreme chemistry despite the members’ mixed backgrounds. It is probable that this instant chemistry was a result of The Rassle’s make-up and experience, which includes former Virgins affiliate Erik Ratensperger, Marc Solomich of The Takeover UK, and Reed and Blair Van Nort of Young Lords.

The Rassle formed after a long acquaintance and a short history of playing shows together, mostly at random venues in New York City, soon forming the name The Rassle. “It’s a slang word,” Blair Van Nort says on the name. “Reed and I are brothers and we come from a small state in the south called Texas and we used to joke about rassling when we moved to New York many years ago.  Things like: “Rassle me up a 40 when you’re at the bodega.” Or, “If you don’t clean up your room I’m gonna rassle your ass.” We just thought it was a funny word but also loaded with enough context to make it a good band name,” he explains. “And we also liked that people might not be familiar with the word, so they could apply their own contextual imagery without the words defining the band first.  Kinda like when we were kids and heard about Oasis.  We didn’t think about what a stupid band name it was, ’cause we had no idea what an Oasis was.”

With the age of technology at its prime, we are frequently seeing bands take advantage of it by setting up extensive MySpace pages, twitters, blogs and websites. Characteristically, The Rassle’s Myspace page is vague and has a sense of humor to it. With Biggie Smalls and Little Richard listed as their musical influences, and a minuscule amount of friends, first-time viewers might question the band’s legitimacy. “We’re still so new,” Erik Ratensperger says on their lack of Internet partake. “We only launched these songs a few months ago, but it’s nice to see such a positive response so early.  This is definitely not a side project; when we started this, we didn’t know exactly how it was gonna go, but we quickly realized that something was there.  It was pretty magical, it just sparked and we decided go full steam,” Ratensperger finishes, before Reed Van Nort quickly pipes in, “Who’s on MySpace anymore anyways?  I think as Seth Meyers put it: MySpace: The Abandoned Amusement Park of the Internet.”

So with Young Lords and Virgins influences present, should we expect a similar type of listening experience from The Rassle?  “This is an entirely different band,” Ratensperger boldly states. “I think the music we are making now is a lot better than what we did with Young Lords,” Blair Van Nort adds. “But we are older now and have learned a lot more about making music and we have a clearer vision of what we want to see when we reach the light at the end of the tunnel.” Though they aim for a fresh style, the band incorporates a cumulatively equal style in the songwriting process. Ratensperger sees the process as mutually beneficial. “It’s a collective effort.  It’s really nice when we’re working on something and everyone’s just bouncing off each other with different ideas on what might make a song move,” he said. “But because this is still so new, I think we’re also still learning the process as we write and record more songs.  It also usually also involves a few cold ones and Doritos.”

Being an unsigned band fairly new to the music scene, The Rassle decided to take the initiative and recorded a few demo songs on a cheap microphone in their apartment. “From the beginning we decided to throw the kitchen sink at these songs,” Blair Van Nort says on his band’s loose recording process. “We had all been in bands that got pigeon-holed into these genres and styles and we were super reluctant to allow this new project to be defined by his or her dogma. So we tried adding and subtracting lots of different sounds and instruments until we found the parts we felt added up to the highest degree of sonic purity. But ultimately you know we were super limited by our tools since we made these songs at our apartment using Garage Band and Pro Tools Lite, but I think it turned out great. We stumbled into something so much more honest and true to ourselves being cramped in our tiny apartment but dreaming big.”

With a few rough songs, some upcoming shows in the New York/ New Jersey area, and an optimistic attitude, The Rassle have already began their journey of taking over the indie rock world. “We just really wanna make music that inspires other people,” Blair Van Nort says on his band’s goal. When asked for a few last words, the guys summarize in a few of their own lyrics. “Celebrate the days!” Blair exclaims, as Reed pipes in, “If it’s all you got!”

RIYL: MGMT, The Virgins, The Takeover UK, Young Lords, Black Kids, Mystery Jets, Good Shoes, The Maccabees, The Pigeon Detectives, The Teenagers, The Strokes, Passion Pit, Klaxons, Two Door Cinema Club, The Kooks, The Clouts, Blonde Acid Cult, Dear Future, The Redwalls

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The Rassle – Wild Ones

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The Rassle – Born Free

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The Rassle – Celebrate the Days

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Paul Weller – Aim High

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Paul Weller – Moonshine

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Paul Weller – No Tears Left to Cry

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Despite what its name entails, the concept of a “super-group” is becoming increasingly relative with the gradual expansion and appreciation of emerging styles and genres. The days where unanimous and successful super-groups – like Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young and the Traveling Wilburys – sell out concerts are long gone. Trends are more important in music than ever before, so committing oneself to a super-group full of stubborn veterans that are too honorable to sell out is not exactly a big label’s dream scenario. Therefore, what is left of “super-groups” are those that specialize in very specific genres or locales. It may sound contradictory in that a group with little recognition should not be considered “super”, but acknowledgment of such a tag has now come to suggest that the artists in the respective group are literally the best in the world at their specific trade. It does not matter whether the trade is Louisiana hip-hop, Japanese rock, or elevator music. Regardless of what it is, there is always someone listening. Nowadays, these type of acts now work in a very specific niche with a very specific type of audience in mind. It has resulted in more failures than successes, but every once in awhile there is a release in this hyped-up vein that satisfies.

In terms of lush German electronic-pop, there are few groups with more credentials than Lali Puna. This is mainly due to Markus Acher, who is primarily responsible for hefty successes of The Notwist and Tied & Tickled Trio (with drummer Christoph Brandner). The Notwist are most renowned for their fifth album Neon Golden, which to me was undoubtedly one of the best electronic-pop releases of the 2000s. Its essential status is mainly propelled by its stylistic distinctiveness, which combined generally expansive hip-hop and post-rock production techniques within a minimalistic atmosphere that contained pop-oriented synths and reverb-heavy vocals. The heavy use of strings helped make the album both dramatic and infectious, showing listeners that electronic-pop does not have to be bogged down in repetitive minimalism to be successful. Like the past success of Air and the more recent breakthrough of The Knife/Fever Ray, The Notwist proved to be one of the few foreign electronic acts that were able to make a huge splash in the US and UK. You may notice that artists like Air and The Knife had few comparable contemporaries at the time of their breakthroughs. Their influence, of course, was echoed in the years to follow instead. The same looks to happen for Lali Puna, who have made one of the most gorgeous and captivating electronic releases of 2010.

Lali Puna’s fourth LP, Our Inventions, will likely do for them what Neon Golden did for The Notwist. Acher and co. have expanded upon an already-successful formula to make it better, which for experienced musicians like vocalist Valerie Trebeljahr and keyboardist Christian Heiß is a seamless process. Following upon the success of 2004’s Faking the Books, Our Inventions contains treats for both fans of Acher’s keyboard-led work with The Notwist and those that prefer the more subdued work of Lali Puna. A gem like “Remember?” employs the sparkling keyboards and thumping bass that made Notwist tracks like “Pilot” so catchy, with Trebeljahr soft-spoken vocals providing excellent accentuation to the chorus. This part enhances the initial verse with an extra gurgle of bass and outro that plays with the glitchy electro-pop that made Acher famous in Germany and elsewhere. He really works well with other musicians who deserve just as much credit though, namely Heiß (who is purported to “rip it up on keyboards” during live performances) and drummer Christoph Brandner, who provides the stellar and natural-sounding rhythmic role that many electronic-pop counterparts are missing.

“Everything is Always” is a great display of Brandner’s strengths, particularly how he is able to coordinate with Acher’s brilliantly implemented glitch effects and samples. Heiß is always there to provide a beautifully fluttering keyboard melody, best seen here and on “Remember?”. Trebeljahr’s observatory nature in “Everything is Always” really succeeds when aligned with the instrumentation, which is almost always led by a xylophone-like effect that finds itself expanded upon by various increments of both electronic and natural effects. The self-titled track is also interesting, namely because it sounds similar to recent greats like Beach House in its droning representation of dream-pop. Trebeljahr proves by this point in Our Inventions that she is a fantastic at emitting a wide range of emotions. While her actual vocal range is not noticeably limited, it is certainly not breathtaking enough to launch ships. What makes her presence so special though is her investment in every track, each responding differently depending on the mood and structure. With Acher at the helm, this makes for plenty of enjoyable experiments. Trebeljahr is a perfect fit for this type of atmospheric electronic-pop and, with her three other collaborators, has crafted an excellent album in Our Inventions.

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Lali Puna – Remember

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Lali Puna – Our Inventions

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Lali Puna – Everything is Always

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Canada holds notability for its bilingualism and multiculturalism in addition to their thriving music scene, which itself certainly benefits from this rich diversity. Malajube, Karkwa, and Les Cowboys Fringants are a few the best Canada-based Francophone acts out there today, all diversifying their lingual differences through exceedingly different styles. Malajube infuse an infectious form of indie-rock, Karkwa emit a moodily industrial alt-rock tone, and Les Cowboys Fringants perform more neo-traditionalist folk. There is little cultural differentiation from the US or UK artists among these Canadian acts, but Francophone music has always appealed to admirers of French culture beyond its linguistic presence. Malajube’s accordion-over-guitars sound is signature by now, and Les Cowboys Fringants hardly avoid topics that pertain to their tongue’s homeland. Dumas has been emerging in this scene ever since turning heads at a few French festivals in 1999. His releases since then have been a cult success of sorts, garnering outstanding reviews and ample crowds but with no recognition comparable to Francophone contemporaries. He was merely 18 years old then, and now at 29 he is beginning to effectively emphasize the struggles and triumphs of a talented songwriter.

The music industry is relatively unpredictable regardless of which language you speak, so to specialize in a language very exclusive to your geographic origin has its setbacks as well as rewards. Writing songs in English obviously has the most potential to be profitable, but niches are also very rewarding in independent music due to the broad selectivity of it. In a country where a good bulk of people speak French, the uniqueness of emitting a variety of musical styles within a familiar language is invigorating for all those that “get” both the lyrics and music. Not to say that it is a barren scene though; in comparison to Canadian indie-rock it just appears significantly diminished outside of Canada. Malajube may be the current most popular Francophone group that has a grip on the niche and is beginning to spread due to their indie-rock leanings, but Steve Dumas has his sights set on Francophone domination as well. The Quebec combines the seductively lush electronics of Sebastien Tellier with the thrilling indie-rock theatrics of Malajube, producing a sound that any fan of French music would love.

Dumas’ fifth album this year (and eighth overall), Traces, was released earlier this week and is already receiving great press. One of its most memorable cuts, “Dans Un Rétroviseur”, is a whirlwind of greatly inspired genres. With twinking synths, gorgeous strings, and classical guitar work, there is no apt stylistic classification for it. At times it can sound like it should belong in a Tarantino movie with its western guitar twangs and ominous mood, or at other times like A. R. Rahman with its ability to infuse world music with cumulative brilliance (flairs of middle-eastern, Eurotrash electro-pop, and classical Spanish music are all evident here). “Quelque Part” calms things down a bit with smooth acoustics and sputtering keys echoing over Dumas’ caressing voice. He occasionally enlists the aid of excellent female vocal accompanists in tracks like “Dans Un Rétroviseur” and “Passer À L’ouest”, the latter of which opens up Traces brilliantly, but his vocals are powerful enough in a subtly convincing manner to carry his beautifully crafted melodies most of the time. Perhaps the best example of this melodic gift is “Passer À L’ouest”, a clap-along strum-along anthem of sorts that kicks off the album in grand fashion with a developing assortment of keys and its conclusion of stampeding percussion and coincides perfectly with the accompanists’ na-na-na-ing and the excitable lead vocals. A crafty guitar solo is thrown in to finish it off in style, which is how most of the tracks on Traces reach significant heights. This is a fantastic album and one that hopefully does not evade year-end lists.

RIYL: Malajube, Karkwa, and Les Cowboys Fringants, A. R. Rahman, Jean Leloup, Ariane Moffatt, Tricot Machine

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Dumas – Dans Un Rétroviseur

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Dumas – Passer À L’ouest

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Dumas – Quelque Part

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England is one of the last places I would expect a musician to be “bored”, especially if they are native to the country. Its rich history aside, every major label houses an office there and there are certainly a surplus of venues present, not to mention an endless list of British influences to get inspiration rolling. It has all the privileges of the American music scene in a more condensed geographical area, which only helps in making European tours more convenient for the locals and artists alike. It was not singularly the people, music industry, or potentials of the UK that made Chris Hicken leave his native Birmingham, the second most populated British city (and home to the likes of The Moody Blues and ELO). Obviously those bands had little issue growing up in Birmingham, but like Hicken they eventually relocated after sincerely valuing their musical ambition. “It seemed very natural to me, something I could be good at,” said Hicks, who always showed glimpses of musical talent despite learning difficulties like dyslexia interfering with his school work. “Very quickly it became all I wanted to do.” Although there remain groups (primarily in the art-rock, Arctic Monkey-ish vein) that maintain significant success in the UK while encompassing a large US following, it often pertains most to a group’s style when determining which country they would fare best in.

Both the US and UK possess very similar mainstream tastes in regard to music, arguably more than ever before due to music’s new level of accessibility. We are seeing more simultaneous Euro-American successes more than ever, which opens up a nice opportunity for Hicken. The Birmingham native has always been enamored with American and British folk music alike, but his rarely complex taste at an early age allowed him to differentiate between the two country’s distinctive musical styles (which was a lot easier in the preceding decades to this one). His preference as an artist seems somewhat obvious, though much of it can also be accredited to the assimilation that took place after moving to New York City in 1993 with his then-band, Bigmouth. This project saw little attention apart from opening for UB40, but it opened up plenty of opportunities for Hicken. Times in the city were pretty routine for Hicken after Bigmouth was abolished, as he went to work as a bartender in the East Village before kicking off his solo career with 2004’s Championship Boxing. This job was actually where his alias, Cantinero, derives from; his Ecuadorian co-worker had always called him cantinero, which means “bartender” in Spanish. Prior to that he was actually contemplating starting his solo career with electronic experimentation, prompted by a recent fascination with Boards of Canada. Entertainingly enough though, Hicken was so touched by the musicianship on Ken Burns’ Jazz documentary that it made him reconsider going for a more natural sound.

Hicken’s follow-up Better for the Metaphor continues upon the infectious alternative-pop that Championship Boxing so effectively conveyed. Hicken’s style of alternative-pop touches both the eccentric folk of an Andrew Bird or Devendra Banhart while reminding listeners of a charming vein of power-pop where electronics are not entirely prohibited, but instead ushered in sporadically to maintain the natural harmonics of the power-pop or alternative-rock. (think Phoenix, Holopaw, Califone, Royal City, etc.). Hicken’s tendency for anthemic choruses and a boatload of hooks allow him to sit comfortably in both genres, combining both British and American schools of pop music to produce an album that improves upon Championship Boxing in its sheer diversity. The opening “My House” describes Hicken quite nicely as an artist – straightforward lyrics, bouncy variations of keys and percussion, and a chorus that strikes gold. What makes Hicken such an accomplished pop songwriter and a track like this is the variation between momentary transitions. While “My House” is mainly an ode to proper gratitude, Hicken avoid monotony by implementing a variety of successful techniques. Whether he temporarily subdues the percussion or brings in a masterful keyboard progression to accompany an already-familiar melody, every small contribution leads up to a plethora of efforts that are accessible and contagious.

Whereas Championship Boxing supplied us with a fusion of folk, pop, and electronica by providing samples of an acoustic nature with natural instrumentation, Better for the Metaphor succeeds even more because of Hicken’s willingness to play it all himself. A talented multi-instrumentalist for sure, this effort sees less in the way of samples and more naturally constructed hooks. “Go-Getter” is reminiscent of Beck so much that, without Hicken’s unique vocal range, it would be difficult to distinguish between the two. Like Beck’s best and earliest work, “Go-Getter” an instance of awe-inspiring stylistic multifariousness. As the rhythm section hints at a story based around smooth-flowing jazz, Hicken’s rushed and hushed vocal delivery sounds tranquilly suitable for chillout electronica instead. The gurgles of synth that he introduces prove surprisingly compatible with the natural acoustics of a piano, and this chorus-focused element serves as the primary source of melodies reflective of alternative-rock or power-pop. This is precisely Hicken’s most treasured ability, one that allows him to introduce various genres with instrumentation that would be contrary to popular belief. Whether he is incorporating psychedelic nostalgia into maudlin ballads or jazzy rhythm sections into electronic ambiance, it all comes off so cohesively that these short pop songs expand into a more memorable territory. There are plenty of these tracks on Better for the Metaphor, which is finallyE seeing a wide release after its initial pressing in 2007.

RIYL: Beck, Phoenix, Holopaw, Califone, Royal City, The Sea and Cake, Marjorie Fair, Apollo Sunshine

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Cantinero – My House

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Cantinero – Go-Getter

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Cantinero – Medicated

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If stoner-rock is defined by slowly presented guitar riffs grounded in heavy doses of reverb and downtuned effects, then where does electronic music with a similar aim sit? Any genre that is reflective of the carefree and serene indulgence that hallucinogens grant tends to hold this tag in some form, so why should electronica be any different? At first glance, to even designate the word “stoner” in a music genre almost seems like it is insulting to the artist, as one could assume that stoners are the most easily satisfied due to the dramatic fluctuations within their senses. McDonalds can taste like a dish by Emeril when you are high, so what stops music from acting the same way? Well, what our taste buds and ear buds tend to differ in when under the hazy influence is a type of preference that is actually quite the opposite. When in a state that brings on relaxation, regardless of what triggers it, it is only natural to be more receptive to sounds focused on contemplation and evolution, which in other words translates to music more reliant upon depth, build-ups, and subtleties instead of in-your-face melodic mayhem. The time it takes our brain to process sound while high is increased, as is our inability to simultaneously identify different layers of sound. Thus, while in stoner-rock there may be less of an emphasis on melodic variation, the listener acquires a heightened awareness in regard to the tonal and structural fluctuations.

While this may sound like a detriment to any listening experience, one would be surprised how certain genres cater in the most obvious manner to these types of listeners. Entire festivals have been devoted to the concept of stoner-related music, mainly because the niche is very real and more than a broad classification for those that love to smoke blunts and listen to Phish. I do not intend to promote that listening to music while high allows one to enjoy music more because of their decreased or increased ability to recognize audible frequencies, but for the artists that cater toward this specific demographic there is no doubt that they are aware of certain musical elements that hallucinogens may beneficially magnify. Psychedelia’s primary strength is mashing all these components into one to create a universal standard of drug-fueled amiability, and the genres that opt for these psychedelic concepts have been going strong since the ’60s. Electronica has only recently latched onto this ideology in the public spotlight. Although there have been precursors like Air, Boards of Canada, and even in some of Beck’s early work, the explosion of psychedelically influenced electronic acts is prevalent.

The early works of Air, Massive Attack, and Boards of Canada – with their serenely intoxicating fusion of sweeping orchestras and placid synthesizers alongside other genres like hip-hop and trance – were among the first in a movement that now includes Caribou, Neon Indian, Chromatics, and Junior Boys among many others. What many have been previously classified as “trip-hop”, “chillout music”, or IDM have all had a hand in crafting a sub-genre that now, within the realm of independent music, has become one of the most thriving scenes in the world. Artists like Junior Boys and Caribou were amongst the first to emerge this decade with extremely intelligent electronica soaked in layers of trickling synths, IDM-influenced percussive spatters, and reverbed vocals that rarely raise above a whisper. You are never going to hear a vocalist like Jeremy Greenspan, Daniel Snaith, or Alan Palomo scream or express straightforward ardency in a genre like this. The music itself does enough of that, only in a more complex manner that is ultimately more fulfilling than its peers. Washed Out is the latest in this line of artists, and boy does this one have a lot to gush over.

As the main project of recent USC grad Ernest Greene, Washed Out has already received glowing reviews from the likes of the New York Times, UK’s Guardian, and plenty of similar blogs. The rush of mainstream success is a bit surprising for Washed Out, not because of its quality but rather its approach. The songs are spectacles of beauty with Greene’s caressing vocals and gradual accompaniments of synths, throwing in some vintage ’80s production to emphasize reverb, crackles, and any other production deficiencies that make the product more endearing as a result. There is such an urge to throw this in the “stoner-electronica” category for mirroring the slow, serene, and blurry characteristics of hallucinogenics like stoner-rock does, but there is so much melodic credibility here in addition to the tonal variations and conceptual effort that every classification seems much too linear. It is the same point of struggle we have in defining artists like Junior Boys or Caribou, another two artists whose emphasis on barebones electronica and psychedelically influenced tempos and tonal patterns is not deterred by their simultaneous abilities as gifted pop songwriters. Greene possesses the same gift, being an electronic whiz with an additional knack for constructing great pop music.

Life of Leisure, Washed Out’s debut EP, was released earlier this year with a cassette-only EP, High Times, following it in September. It has been a busy year for the breakout artists, and Greene’s time in the spotlight appears to just be beginning. High Times shows his massive scope of creativity quite well and is wholesomely recommended. Tracks like “Luck” resemble the respectable works of DJ Shadow with their genius use of sampling, accompanying synths, and hip-hop influences. The sputtering of the keys and inconsistent percussive ferocity paints an imperfect picture for this and the funk-influenced “You Will Be Sad” (which mixes brass samples and rhythm sections wonderfully), but each one always resonates with extreme success by its end. “You Will Be Sad” in particular has a beautiful interlude at its conclusion, featuring nothing more than an organ and bass line that comparatively gives the preceding stampede of brass and percussion even more prominence. “Belong” showcases Greene’s pop skills to the best extent, mixing an Afro-pop beat with the brooding electronics of ’80s artists like Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark or The Human League. Just don’t be startled by the chills up your spine when the strings hit during the last minute with Greene’s soaring voice.

Other efforts like “Phone Call” show more of a likeness to traditional trance and minimalism in its continuous repetition and supplementation, bearing more resemblance to than fellow pop-minded electronic artists. “Olivia” is also quite nice for its dirty trance-influenced arpeggio, sounding like easily the most club-friendly cut on High Times. The fluttery “Good Luck” brings us to territory more likened to Neon Indian or Junior Boys, both artists that make great use of high-pitched keys under alternating ambient synth pads and evolutionary structures. What these efforts cumulatively show us is the incredible range of diversity Greene has in the field of electronica, whether one is more willed to call it “chill-out music”, “psychedelic-electro”, or a new concoction altogether that hopefully avoids the overly exaggerated coinages that these sub-genres generate. This range has already led to plenty of acclaim, so all we have left to wait for is the landmark release that will propel Greene to the top.

RIYL: Neon Indian, Junior Boys, Caribou, Air, OMD, DJ Shadow, Boards of Canada

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Washed Out – Belong

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Washed Out – Luck

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Washed Out – Phone Call

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Washed Out – You Will Be Sad

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The Cubical recorded their debut album during the humid Californian summer, complemented by the production skills of a veteran in Dave Sardy whose resume includes Johnny Cash and The Rolling Stones. A reputable producer, a studio in Hollywood, and touting the glories of a California sun are commonly characteristics of any short-lived, big-label act these days, so it would probably be easy to group The Cubical in with the rest. How premature that would be though, especially considering that their sound is the contrary of such cliches. Their studied approach takes listeners to the past with a refreshing ideology rather than bringing them to familiar territory with nothing but a pre-designed template at their side. This is one way to prove that The Cubical transcend their natural advantages, though Dan Wilson’s vocal delivery is singularly the component that separates them from the others featured on this site that also attribute slight stylistic interpretations to common themes of the past.

That Wilson sounds like a possessed madman just waiting for an exorcism makes his presence uniquely empowering on its own. As listeners will learn though, this is not the primary allure. How Wilson is able to manipulate his half-enraged, half-deranged tone is what brings The Cubical’s debut, Come Sing These Crippled Tunes, to great heights. For instance, we all know that Tom Waits has a coarsely unique voice that is entirely his own. Certainly his audience is attracted to it too, but do you honestly think they would keep coming back if he had nothing to say? He relays all kinds of wonderfully bizarre narratives, but how he alternates his vocal pattern (somber whimper developing into a coarse mumble, etc.) in coordination with the content at hand. The band’s own producer, Dave Sardy, could probably tell you that himself by working with Johnny Cash, who even before Waits had this technique down pat. Neither have the voice that Simon Cowell would get on his knees for, but they were both inarguably able to accomplish more vocalized distinction than any eventual winner of Americal Idol will thanks in part to this ability. Correlating one’s God-given vocal chords with the applicable songwriting that their talents provided them is quite difficult, but artists like Cash and Waits have paved the way for talented musicians like The Cubical in that regard.

As Wilson croons about a certain infatuation with little fingertips and a tiny silhouette on “Edward the Confessor”, listeners will be tempted to either cower in fear and raised eyebrows or take solace in a voice that is one of the most unique devices for interpretation you are likely to find on a rock album. With roaring guitars, bluesy organs, and thunderous percussion, the five-piece tread in territories of rockabilly and power-pop depending on the effort, though modernistic classic-rock might be the best tag for this group. “Edward the Confessor” is frantic in its guitar-powered romps, making room for occasional absences of instrumentation in its entirety for breaks that serve to either introduce a rollicking guitar solo or a coarse rumble from Wilson. Either one is welcome throughout the entire effort as Wilson pleads for forgiveness to a beloved who evolves from an object of infatuation to a symbolic representation of repressed desires and superficial privation. “No, no, pay the price with such fame and virtue,” he screeches, allowing for the shift between repressed forgiveness and exhausted agitation.

Like any good film, the best part about The Cubical is how it keeps the listener on the edge of their seat despite some predictable consistencies. Although Wilson’s voice may take some getting used to in its resonant consistency and tonal pattern, it becomes a redeeming component of the band’s sound in tracks like “Edward the Confessor” and “Like Me (I’m a Peacock)”. The latter begins with a guitar riff that is so soaked in so much reverb and old-fashioned melodic goodness that it immediately invokes nostalgia. The chorus follows a similar path, even if Wilson’s lyrical urgings of ripping his unrequited lover from the ground may have been a bit too risque for the ’60s. The music is not too far from the era though, as the classic-rock feel is better than ever here with nothing more than guitar and rhythm dominating successfully. Wilson calls himself a demon quite suitably in the lyrics as well, and his voice only allows for the listener to picture the face of a disgruntled but talented individual whose repressed adoration has led him to this point. This point? I almost made the point of artistic triumph sound detrimental for a second. My apologies. The Cubical deal with some pretty gruesome takes on romanticism and repressed love throughout Come Sing These Crippled Tunes, but at all points it is simply a refreshing addition to a sound that would not sound appropriate any other way. Would you really want Dan Wilson’s voice to be singing about lollipops and rainbows? I didn’t think so.

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The Cubical – Edward the Confessor

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The Cubical – Like Me (I’m a Peacock)

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The Cubical – Great White Lie

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

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

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

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

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

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Kordan – Fantasy Nation

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Kordan – Slouchy Girl

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Kordan – Tokyo Tears

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Download four tracks from Fantasy Nation for free here.

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