The Rozzes are a very young band with an extra dose of talent and vigor, similar in mold to recent youthful power-pop successes like Cloud Nothings. Similarly, they possess a musical intellect that presents talent well beyond their years. They are a band to watch closely as they develop into stars. Even if comparisons to groups like The Strokes are persistent at this point due to their similar styles of production, it is impossible to deny The Rozzes’ inseparable talents, especially when the quality of their material is growing at such a rapid rate. Listeners will be shocked when realizing how young these guys are. They have such an astute grasp on the garage-rock sound they’ve achieved in a short time that musicians ten, twenty, and thirty years their senior will scratch their heads, perplexed as to how it comes this naturally to them.

Both chemistry and similar musical genes play roles in The Rozzes’ quick maturing process. The California-based quartet consists of four cousins that grew up in the same house together. Music was a huge part of their lives at an early age and their interest in it grew along with them. As such, their lifetime commitment to music has resulted in a continuous songwriting process. Their debut album will be released for free in the coming months, followed by appearances at multiple festivals throughout August and September.

Judging by their Twitter account, it’s not surprising that The Rozzes have been in contact with Ryan Gentles, manager of The Strokes (and called by some “the sixth Stroke”). They certainly resemble the prestigious indie-rockers at their earliest/best stages. The main chorus in “Leave Without Me” – particularly when lead singer Isaiah Navarro belches out “Tonight let’s start outside / Now you know I’ve got nowhere to hide” – resembles The Strokes’ “Trying Your Luck” on multiple levels. In addition to Navarro’s unavoidable similarity to the scraggly vocals of Julian Casablancas, a fuzzy rhythm guitar is muzzled under a mix of tremolo-laden guitar trickles and evolving bass lines. The three-minute mark introduces a more prominent bass, which is somewhat puzzlingly mixed higher than usual. The spontaneous increase works advantageously though, producing a sound that is hectically infectious but never rushed nor desperately concocted.

Of course, the smoothly crafted hooks help make such comparisons abundant. You can find them in every chorus on “Leave Without Me”, which progresses to be a polished example indicative of the group’s future. That is, sitting comfortably in the role of radio darlings. “Native Sun” is more amateur in its production and spastic rhythmic patterns, the chorus failing to separate itself from the verse like when it was done exceptionally on the aforementioned “Leave Without Me”. But it is a worthwhile nugget nonetheless, showcasing a band clearly learning the ropes and discovering their sound. As something like “Native Sun” proves, ambitious prog-rock is not out of the question for a band with genuine chemistry like The Rozzes. They’re clearly on the path to bigger and better things.

The final mix of “Indians” is another example of the group’s phenomenal pacing and stirring evolution; the latter is occurring right now. With more ferocity and garage-rock vigor than most ‘00s indie-rock groups (The Strokes included), this fast-paced burst of energy brings to mind a recent movement ignited by groups like Cloud Nothings and Smith Westerns. Bringing along a variety of styles from blues and power-pop to the ambitious proto-punk of groups like Television and The Stooges, “Indians” is one example of a revival that listeners should hope to hear more of this decade. It marks a revival that, instead of relying on hype or trendiness, brings back the raw energy and combustible hooks of past rock acts that remain essential to this day – especially after they defied initial misconceptions about their so-called “amateur” approach. Amateur my ass.

RIYL: The Strokes, Cloud Nothings, Smith Westerns, Rooney, Television, The Stooges, Girls, The Babies, Harlem, Wavves, Craft Spells, Real Estate, Surfer Blood, Magic Kids, Best Coast, Crystal Stilts, No Age, Male Bonding, Wild Nothing, Vivian Girls

The Rozzes – Leave Without Me

The Rozzes – Indians

The Rozzes – Native Sun

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Like perhaps the most famous of surf-rock innovators (Brian Wilson), Arthur C. Imperial does not surf. Rather, the sights and sounds of witnessing the act provide ample room for his musical talents to emerge. The Toronto-based Art Imperial depicts his swirling mixture of surf-rock and alternative aptly on the new Surf Suburban EP; a sky-blue silhouette of a beautiful woman basking in the sun takes up the foreground, backed by an image of the coastline either at sunset or sunrise. The clouds and surf are cast with a neon effect. The sun is low and glows an orange haze. No, it’s not the latest chillwave cover, but rather an excellent take on chilled-out surf-rock with doses of contemporary indie-rock, with some aspects of The Walkmen’s nasally guitar-led croon sitting alongside the shimmering rock of Surfer Blood, The Morning Benders, and other recent surveyors of surf-rock revivalism with a modern flair. Gracefully, their music is not an ode to primitive surf-rock. Rather, a better reference is to the expansive full-bodied approaches best shown on Beach Boys releases from ’65 to ’71, on classics like Pet Sounds and Sunflower.

Imperial’s vocals sit somewhere between Hamilton Leithauser’s nasally ardency and Paul Heaton’s youthful vibrato. This establishes an interesting vocal presentation, especially when set under gorgeous instrumentation that recalls the intelligent guitar-pop of Girls’ Christopher Owens, who clearly has the same set of influences as Imperial. Like Owens, Imperial’s room for growth is foreseeable. Surf Suburban EP, while not a perfect release, is a phenomenal showcase of an artist with natural pop smarts and a wonderful knack for guitar-based melodies. Plus, you can download it for free here. Recorded in his mother’s basement, the six-song EP boasts swirling guitar melodies drenched in spongy reverb and long-ranged vocal harmonies that supplement the traditional appeal of Imperial’s surf-rock roots.

Like many great surf-rock releases, Surf Suburban EP (available for free) shows off a first half of radio-friendly rock gems, with the second attempting more daring approaches veering into the avant-garde. Imperial Art never travels into territory too unknown though, staying true to the shimmering guitar-based formula of wildly accessible gems like “The Inbetweener” and “My Crystal”, the former of which excels on every level in unveiling Imperial as a consummate appreciator of surf-rock. Between the sudden yelps of exuberance after each verse and a chorus that features intensified percussion and a devastating key-led hook in its latter half, there are a handful of exceptional moments to be had on “The Inbetweener”. I suggest listeners to start here. The first two tracks are pure sunshine and fun, but the third track on Surf Suburban EP where Imperial’s innovation and infectious qualities as a songwriter shine most prominently.

“The One You Chose” is a slight departure from the illuminated ardency of the first three efforts, showing a darker and more brooding side that even touches on Smiths-inspired post-punk. A DIY punk element is found in the repeated guitar tremolo, which entrenches itself over Imperial’s nonchalant groan. His voice here resembles The Thrills’ obvious adoration for Kurt Cobain, who Imperial touts as another huge influence. That particular one is most evident on “The One You Chose”, a phenomenal effort that may be the best evidence for the great amount of depth that Imperial appears imminently destined to display. The final 1.5 minutes, particularly the beautifully moody guitar solo, should be the final convincing factor for this. This is clearly just the beginning of a successful career for Imperial. The second half of the EP’s level of slight experimentation, also found on the tinges of synth on ‘80s throwback “Young & Dangerous”, shows as much. Imperial’s talent is abundantly evident, so it understandably will take him another release or two to truly hone in on the sound that best highlights his talents.

RIYL: The Beach Boys, Brian Wilson, Girls, The Walkmen, Surfer Blood, The Morning Benders, The Housemartins, The Stills, Nirvana, The Smiths, Wavves, Best Coast, The Explorers Club

Art Imperial – The Inbetweener

Art Imperial – The One You Chose

Art Imperial – My Crystal

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Jake and Jamin Orrall specialize in fuzzy West Coast rock that plays best in a party atmosphere (or on Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2). There is a vintage feel to the brothers’ guitar-and-drums lineup, forcing an emphasis on quality songwriting and stage presence; superfluous bells and whistles are not present to mask the occasional misstep. Fortunately for the Orral’s, their new album We Are the Champions has nothing to hide. It is a wonderfully refreshing throwback to early ‘90s power-pop and garage-rock. Their style possesses the same power-pop/surf-rock blend of Weezer up front, but often with a more aggressive take on variants of punk and noise-rock that bring influences like Sonic Youth, Jay Reatard, and Pavement into play. The most ambitious the duo get with production is via a guitar pedal or keyboard addition, which is a type of forgotten minimalism that aligns beautifully with their powerful songwriting and ready knack for hooks.

The brothers formed their project, Jeff the Brotherhood, when Jamin was in middle school and Jake was a sophomore in high school. They financed their first CD-R off early band profits, gathering enough money back home in Tennessee from $5-per-bootleg efforts to fund the effort. The boys’ father saw potential and brought some of his business savvy to the table at that point, though one can wonder how he felt when both his sons dropped out of college to pursue music full-time. Based on their recent hype and album (which is their best), he is probably more proud than pissed. After all, they play hundreds of shows per year and have aspirations of touring Japan, so it’s not like they’re slacking off. Jeff the Brotherhood are simply the epitome of quality DIY rock, representative of those whose genuine passion for music helps fuel an anti-label, do-it-yourself attitude. There are so many acts that slap on the DIY tag, yet embrace the first chance of corporate sponsorship that comes that way. It would be nice if more acts like Jeff the Brotherhood existed; they just want to get their music heard, and seem to care less about “the man”.

Sibling rivalries are unavoidable when on the road (which is why the duo always bring a mediator on tour), but there is certainly no doubting their chemistry when in the studio. “Endless Fire” is a gorgeous semi-ballad that would have fit seamlessly on Weezer’s classic Pinkerton. It is a frail and gentle effort compared to other tracks on the frenetic We Are the Champions, but its placement smack-dab in the middle of it provides a seamless breather between the post-rock intricacies of “Diamond Way” and bluesy guitar howls of “Ripper”. “Is it too late to think it isn’t over?” both brothers croon on “Endless Fire”, one reminiscent of a nasally Rivers Cuomo and the other higher in pitch – almost like a Steve Bays or Brad Nowell. The outro enveloping the final minute places a scraggly guitar solo over an airy organ, both of which fade out in a distorted whimper. It is one of the album’s most melodic efforts, even if the initial verse is too short. Conciseness is clearly something Jeff the Brotherhood value though, as not one song on We Are the Champions overstays its welcome.

Two standouts in particular, “Cool Out” and “Bummer”, are bound to give the duo some heavy notice. The latter brings back the Weezer feel, but now more aligned with the fuzzy punk influences of their debuting Blue album. “I can’t see through this dream,” is the line marking a chorus with an incredible build-up, with distorted guitar tremolos and increasingly furious percussion. “Cool Out” is just as great (especially the breathtaking final minute), albeit more in line with lo-fi revivalists like Wavves. Even better, “Shredder” is a no-frills take on old-school DIY punk that imaginatively adds a droning chiptune-like synth, while “Health and Strength” is a fascinating semi-acoustic effort with sitar and string samples that make it inarguably the most psychedelic-leaning effort on We Are the Champions. There are even some Celtic folk progressions hidden below the acoustic flaps, almost giving it a “The Battle of Evermore” sort of feel. It is a definite success, just like many of the efforts on We Are the Champions. This is the album that should put these talented brothers on the map.

RIYL: Weezer, Jay Reatard, Sonic Youth, Pavement, Sublime, Wavves, Ex-Models, Hagfish, Screaming Females, Turbo Fruits, Cheap Time, Jacuzzi Boys

Jeff the Brotherhood – Endless Fire

Jeff the Brotherhood – Health and Strength

Jeff the Brotherhood – Cool Out

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Initial exposure of electronic acts Burial and Neon Indian went beyond their infectious music and distinctive methods. While William Bevan (Burial) and Alan Palomo (Neon Indian) revealed personal facts about their projects as time went on, initial speculation regarding their work ranged from the fascinating to humorous. Burial’s emergence coincided with speculation that it was a side-project of Trent Reznor or Richard David James. Neon Indian attracted similarly abstract speculation due to his initially elusive nature. Bevan still remains very low-key, while Palomo has featured in a wide range of interviews. One could say that Bevan is genuinely a private person and that Palomo was simply using the mysterious enigma to build up hype, but I think of it more as a natural progression dependent on both the personalities of the frontman and his music. The darkly ethereal dubstep qualities of Burial’s music coincides with Bevan’s secluded personality quite well, just as Neon Indian’s loose psych-electro eased in with alternatively romanticized sentiments like “Should Have Taken Acid With You” (written about an ex-girlfriend) is representative of Palomo’s congenially accessible nature.

Apt in its name, Unknown Mortal Orchestra remained in a state of preliminary elusiveness that was similar to Burial or Neon Indian; it was real quality music without any facts about the member(s) behind its formation. What was evident was how Unknown Mortal Orchestra was crafting flexibly infectious psych-pop gems, calling for – once again – the tendency of listeners to make abstract generalizations regarding the project’s identity. If a project sounds great and no one is taking credit for it, wouldn’t it have to be an artist with some notoriety already? Many would think that would be the case. At the very least, perhaps someone with noted experienced. There is no predictable nature to this guessing work though, as it is quite possible for someone to emerge out of nowhere, like Bevan did, to create material that sounds like the work of a very experienced producer.

While that prospect is always possible, Unknown Mortal Orchestra are one of those rare projects where speculation paid off. The brain behind the project, Ruban Nielson, is one of the chief songwriters of prominent indie power-poppers The Mint Chicks. Not quite a “household name”, but one nonetheless that showed previous ability to make his impressive work with Unknown Mortal Orchestra realistic. Fans of both UMO and The Mint Chicks likely had that feeling of “oh! I should have known!” after learning this, as his individual songwriting traits remain at full force but now presented a fuller-bodied, more experimental interpretation that many may actually prefer to The Mint Chicks’ work.

Surprisingly, Unknown Mortal Orchestra was actually born out of Nielson’s willingness to leave the music industry altogether. He had planned to quit music for a living early last year, but passion called and he ended up recording the preliminary UMO demos in his basement anyways. The setting was more relaxed; Nielson was pursuing it as a “hobby” as he “tried to become a more productive member of society.” Being over-anxious when writing songs is not the preferred method, and his newly relaxed feel for UMO’s eponymous release shows just that that. Now with less pressure on him, Nielson shows a willingness to experiment thoroughly with rock and pop. At the same time, he does not dismiss the “fun factor” of a song. Based on his recent quotes, if making this album was not enjoyable for him he probably would not have finished it. Music’s new role in his life as a hobby instead of an occupation may have created his most artistically inspiring works to date.

“How Can U Luv Me” contains nice doses of funk and soul, initially in the vein of Jamie Lidell and some Cee-Lo Green material. Nielson’s depth as a songwriter and producer is more in line with Lidell though, as this track stays clear of Cee-Lo’s radio-desperate repetition with proficient uses of crunchy lo-fi guitars, a funk-driven bass line, and a pretty impressive falsetto. There is a nice, loose feel to the track that works well as the opener to the EP. The intro and outro contain an ingenious mixture of phased vocals and a swift guitar progression that adds even more flavor to Nielson’s funk interpretation.

The swaying guitar tones in “How Can U Luv Me” are the main factor in bringing out the psychedelic feel, which is certainly more prevalent on “Nerve Damage!” This one plays with garage-rock, the vocals projecting a snarling infectiousness reliant on multiple pitches. Like Ariel Pink (a huge influence in this song), Nielson employs both excitable high-pitched and brooding low-pitched vocals simultaneously over a wave of distortion. The waves are never too rough though; they are easy to float on with commendable melodic range.

“Thought Ballune” digs even deeper into classic psychedelia; it breaks through with a mixture of The Kinks’ melodic playfulness and The Who’s dexterous mixture of fierce guitars and elastic synths. Classic-rock influences are not always at the forefront for the EP, but the halted vocal harmonies and guitar/synth certainly make “Thought Ballune” successfully dependent on such nostalgia. It is one of several examples why a future full-length from Unknown Mortal Orchestra could be huge. Once Nielson finds a clear vision of where he wants to take this fascinating project, we could be in for quite a treat. He clearly already has a grasp on melody and a multitude of styles. Guessing whether he chooses to pursue the dark scorching psychedelia of “Ffunny Ffrends” or the looseness of “Nerve Damage!” is part of the fun.

RIYL: The Mint Chicks, Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti, No Age, Jamie Lidell, Wavves, The Who, The Kinks, The Checks, The Phoenix Foundation, Minuit, Shihad, Fly My Pretties, Kora, D4, Shapeshifter

Unknown Mortal Orchestra – FFunny Frendss

Unknown Mortal Orchestra – Nerve Damage!

Unknown Mortal Orchestra – How Can U Luv Me?

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by Mike Mineo

If I were to play Dirty Beaches’ debut full-length, Badlands, loudly in my apartment, my neighbors would likely suspect one of two things. Either I pulled out an old-fashioned phonograph and started playing tattered vinyls of early-era rockabilly, or I was blasting a documentary focused around novels like On the Road and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas; the narrative allure of the open road left a distinctive mark on American culture and works like these are best representative of that, along with their supplementary soundtracks of course. Dirty Beaches, the one-man project of Alex Zhang Hungtai, captures a feel and essence that literary classics like these established, and that later films like Albert Brooks’ Lost in America and David Lynch’s Wild at Heart enforced with lovable nostalgic sentimentality. In Wild at Heart, Nic Cage’s character (Sailor) was essentially half-Elvis impersonator and half-hipster, making the bizarre sights and sounds that much more entertaining. With Badlands, I tend to envision a character like Sailor or Sal Paradise singing over what Hungtai calls “minimalist rockabilly”, all while picturing visions of rural landscapes speeding past me as I traverse along an unknown highway where both American stereotypes and counter-stereotypes merge for a distinctive trip into both the familiar and unknown.

The reason I picture a film character in place of Hungtai is actually a complement to Dirty Beaches’ distinctive display of stylistic nostalgia and the contemporary lo-fi movement. Badlands finds many comparisons to Springsteen’s cult-favorite album Nebraska, where he would alternate sparsely haunting folk music with glimpses of rockabilly aided by the occasional Elvis-like yelp. If the album title was extracted from the Springsteen song of the same name I wouldn’t be surprised. The outstanding narrative power of that Nebraska is undeniable, and Dirty Beaches follow a similar path in a concise 27-minute release built on nostalgia, imagery, but most importantly great songwriting that finds perfect accommodation in its unconventional lo-fi production. Polish is not a main priority or even one at all. Depth, feeling, and emotions that quiver with a ghostly whimper are the main components at play in Badlands. Mix in a dose of proto-punk cultists Suicide, with their stripped-down infectiousness, and you have the wonderfully eclectic hybrid that is Badlands.

Hungtai was born in Taiwan, but since then has moved around. Toronto, Montreal, and Honolulu are a few places he called home, and one could surmise from his music that he has ventured on trips beyond these. These characteristics are telling when you compare your music to “the sound of waves against a picturesque and putrid shore, the silent rumble of a Chevy as it speeds by in slow motion.” Usually descriptions like this are superfluous nonsense, but this one actually works pretty well. One of my favorites from Dirty Beaches, “A Hundred Highways”, illustrates this “silent rumble” pretty well; multiple guitars crunch in unison with both low frequencies that resemble bass and high frequencies that approach synth-like qualities. This is lo-fi production at its best, with Hungtai stretching his guitar’s range out to include characteristics of both rhythm and key-laden melodies. There are no keys, of course, but the manipulation of sound here is more convincing than ever. Like early Suicide or Ariel Pink material, Dirty Beaches make pretty majestic works out of a limited instrumental arsenal.

The mixture of screeching ambiance and thumping guitar frequencies throughout “A Hundred Highways” actually serves it as one of the more maximized tracks on the album. Alternately, “Horses” is barebones rockabilly minimalism at its best, with Hungtai alternating between Elvis/Tim Buckley croons as he practically mimics the sound of an old car’s engine trying desperately to start. “Sweet 17” is more affixed to the aforementioned Nebraska comparisons, with yelps and moans that make Hungtai sound like a rougher and tougher version of Conway Twitty. It is far from the haunting folk of Springsteen’s Nebraska, but it concocts a similar atmosphere with its driving rhythm guitar pulsating over padded hi-hats. The second half of Badlands is more in line with that subdued folk feel, especially the elegant “Lord Knows Best”. A gentle guitar progression jumps around quickly over a choir accompaniment, with Hungtai showing his romantic side with lines like “I’ve walked through the valleys and lord knows best that I don’t give a damn about anyone but you.”

Second-half highlights like “Lord Knows Best” and the fluttering “True Blue”, which sounds like a cross between early Brian Wilson and sentimental Lou Reed, help maintain the album’s consistency and unique stylistic fervor. The ominous instrumental “Black Nylon” and wastefully ambient “Hotel” are both tedious ways to close off a very impressive album, but the six preceding tracks are all very worthwhile. Hungtai has produced something very special with Badlands, which mixes nostalgic aspects of both culture and musical genres into songs that are hauntingly infectious (“True Blue” and “A Hundred Highways”) and atmospherically overwhelming (“Lord Knows Best” and “Sweet 17”) to the point of a film by David Lynch, Wong Kar-wai, or a novel by Kerouac or Capote. The only two gripes I have regarding Badlands are the last two songs and the length. I want more than 27 minutes. After grasping Badlands’ unique appeal (which only takes a few listens), I bet you will want more too.

RIYL: Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Presley, Suicide, Tim Buckley, Bo Didley, Conway Twitty, The Beach Boys, Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti, Jeans Wilder, Minks, Ducktails, Wavves, Reading Rainbow, Keep Shelly in Athens, Weed Diamond, Julian Lynch, No Joy

Dirty Beaches – True Blue

Dirty Beaches – Lord Knows Best

Dirty Beaches – Sweet 17

Dirty Beaches – Horses

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Week in Review (Jan 15-21)

by Jay Mattson

Top News Story:

COACHELLA!  The 2011 Coachella Music and Arts Festival artist lineup has been announced and is currently flying all over the Internet, kind of like a little indie-rock Christmas present for the kids.  Exciting acts include Arcade Fire, The Strokes, Kanye West, the reunion of Death From Above 1979 (!!!!), Animal Collective, The Black Keys, Lightning Bolt, Best Coast, Ms. Lauryn Hill, Tame Impala, and many, many, many others.

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New Tracks:

Wavves – Mutant

* A reported b-side left over from the King of the Beach sessions, “Mutant” is Nathan Williams at his best with Wavves.  Hazy instrumentals and Williams’ unique vocals swim through the first half of the track before breaking down into a full instrumental movement.  Williams has stated that “Mutant” may appear on an upcoming 7” single… maybe.

Nicki Minaj – Roman’s Revenge 2.0 (featuring Lil’ Wayne)

* The only thing that’s changed on this 2.0 version of “Roman’s Revenge”, from Nicki’s debut, Pink Friday, is that Lil’ Wayne contributes the featured verses instead of Eminem. Overall, “2.0” isn’t better or worse than the original, it’s just different.  Wayne’s tempo doesn’t fit as well as Eminem’s, and it shows when each version is played consecutively.

The Mountain Goats – Damn These Vampires

* As the first new track from John Darnielle since the Mountain Goats’ The Life of the World to Come way back when in 2009, this track held a heavy burden.  Would Darnielle choose to continue down the dark and relgious path he set for himself, or would he start climbing toward a lighter tone and less serious tone?  The latter is proven true, as “Damn These Vampires” is a spirited acoustic jaunt through some of the Mountain Goats’ greatest strengths.

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Best New Album of the Week:

Smith Westerns – Weekend

Smith Westerns – All Die Young

Smith Westerns – Dance Away

If you wish you were born in the 1970s, Dye it Blonde is for you.  Built upon the jangle and swoon of the beginning of psychedelia without sounding too…well, psychedelic. More so, Smith Westerns manage to match the tone of psychedelic past, but crank the tempo up a few notches and add more electric guitar than hazy sitar.  In today’s increasingly niche-based musical world, it has become increasingly difficult to record an album that audiences will willingly listen to from start to finish without skipping a track.  Dye it Blonde accomplishes this through songs that consistently grab your attention with their lighthearted melodies and catchy instrumentals.  More often than not, the guitar work carries the tracks, which is not a bad thing at all.  Smith Westerns have carved a sound for themselves that’s simply enjoyable to hear and Dye it Blonde is the result of that.

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Song of the Week:

Beirut – Elephant Gun

Everyone has a few songs that stay with them.  There are those few tracks that hold meaning, no matter what that meaning may be.  Perhaps it is a memory of a specific summer, or a feeling of happiness or depression rushes over you.  Maybe you actually become frightened, or it could simply that you really love the song.  For me, “Elephant Gun” is one of those songs.  It was the Beirut track that truly made me fall in love with Zach Condon’s mesmerizing vocals and uncanny arrangements.  And while Beirut’s entire catalog is genius, “Elephant Gun” is my favorite track by Condon and company.  The blending of instruments evident throughout the song is gorgeous, as Condon seamlessly adds and removes different layers of horns, strings and vocals.  When I first heard this song, all I could think about was a parade, a procession making steady progress down a smallish street in a populated French city.  Condon is, of course, the leader, but he’s not walking in front.  Instead, he’s sitting atop an elephant in a carrier while he strums away at the ukulele while his marching band whimsically plays along.

BUY

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January rain is unbearable. Precipitation this month should involve snow… not freezing rain. This is the time of year where vacation days are farthest away, so having cold buckets of water dumped over your head with the looming prospect of once again repeating the same dull instances day after day is demoralizing. Returning from the solace of winter break emphasizes the somberness of this procession to work/school even more. As a result, it almost seems ironic that January is an appropriate time for a band that produces shimmering surf-pop. Instead of coming across like decorating a Christmas tree in July, the music of Tennis is a refreshing and apt reminder of anticipatory feelings that would usually take months to arrive from January. Thanks to the emotionally eclectic qualities of the husband-wife duo, Tennis are one of 2011’s most buzzed-about bands thus far and their debut, Cape Dory, lives up to expectations.

Patrick Riley and Alaina Moore comprise the duo, and like many healthy musical couples the origin of their band’s name stems from an inside joke: Alaina used to make fun of Patrick playing tennis in college because she considered an elitist sport for affluent men (though I would disagree with that; golf fits the stereotype more, but Golf would be a pretty bland-sounding band name). Marriage followed shortly after the two philosophy majors met at the University of Colorado Denver, but the couple soon found life in Denver to lack the adventure they were seeking. So naturally, they embarked on an eight-month sailing trip along the North Atlantic coast. The funniest part is that neither one knew the other had musical talent; Alaina had no clue Patrick could play the guitar, and Patrick never knew Alaina could sing so well. It almost sounds like the beginning of a quirky rom-com, except for a great soundtrack in lieu of a pathetic one.

After deliberating what their prospective band should sound like, one thing was certain: nostalgia would be at the forefront. They wanted a ’50s telecaster, ’60s Fender Bassman, old organs, and low-grade tape — familiar equipment to any fan of vintage girl-pop and surf-rock attempting to replicate the sound today. Chemistry was certainly no issue, and once the songwriting began with the creativity and spontaneity present Tennis’ work now it became evident that something real was taking shape. What began as music playtime on a boat rapidly progressed into a legitimate project, one that recruited drummer James Barone and signed to the same label as The Walkmen, The Black Keys, Andrew Bird, etc (Fat Possum).

While ‘60s girl-pop and surf-rock stand out as influences, Tennis are not a one-trick pony. Moore’s vocal talents make Tennis’ stylistic definition quite varied, ranging from the touch of ‘60s girl-pop in “Marathon” to the twangy indie-rock of “Cape Dory”, where she sounds more Neko Case than Mary Weiss. Cape Dory is an album that excels at sugary pop, highlighting the swooning backing harmonies, bouncy bass lines, and scratchy electric guitars that help define the style. An immediate comparison to Cape Dory would be Little Joy’s self-titled debut, which showcased similar influences and first-time effectiveness. The relation is particularly relevant on Binki Shapiro-voiced songs like “Unattainable”. Shapiro shows less enthusiasm and variation vocally than Moore, but the feel-good vibes contrasted with the occasional dose of melancholic sentiments are equally presented. Cape Dory with a fresh take on girl-pop and surf-rock that make Tennis an act to look out for in 2011.

RIYL: Little Joy, Gauntlet Hair, Games, The Shangri-Las, Neko Case, Kisses, Active Child, Women, Weed Diamond, Male Bonding, Ducktails, Vanguart, Wavves

Tennis – Pigeon

Tennis – Marathon

Tennis – Bimini Bay

Fat Possum / MySpace

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Christopher Owens reached indie-rock gold by the end of last year. After steadily putting out a handful of singles throughout the year – “Hellhole Ratrace” in July and “Lust for Life” in September – he released Girls’ debut full-length, Album, to nonstop acclaim. A year-end list felt invalid without Girls’ laudable effort reaching the top twenty (I had it #18 on mine). So it only makes sense that a follow-up of any kind would be widely anticipated.

Girls’ new six-song EP, Broken Dreams Club, was recorded in San Francisco, but judging by the opening “Thee Oh So Protective One”, you would think it was made in a tropical paradise made out of palm trees instead. The soulfully tropical feel is defined by a mariachi-like fervor, with a verse of heavily melodic guitar flutters evolving to a marching procession of horns. Owens’ voice gets more perky here, and already it becomes prevalent that Girls have retained their most enjoyable aspects (hooks and no-shrills pop-rock) with some stylistic expansiveness. The sound on Broken Dreams Club is more massive and flexible than on Album. This is probably best demonstrated by “Substance” and “Alright”, the latter actually implementing some free-jazz into thunderous alt-rock riffs. Radiohead comparisons are not too far off here. This is easily the most ambitious track on the release, as the instrumentation dominates any vocal cues. It even begins to resemble post-rock toward the end, and judging by these excellent closing moments I would love to see Owens pursue more of the style.

“Substance” is also pretty interesting – and pretty. As Owens sells a mystery substance that can cure all mental and physical deficiencies, the initial youthfulness makes a stern transition into a bleak plea for societal integration. “Who wants something real, when you can have nothing,” he sings over a delicate ‘60s-inspired riff, not ascending above a somber whisper. It is a successful effort for sure, laudably not getting too caught up in the melancholic mood to ignore Girls’ catchy pop-driven hooks as well. The reverbed guitar strum is one, along with the guitar lead that begins right before the three-minute mark.

“Heartbreaker” and “Broken Dreams Club” are both on the more conventional side, the latter perhaps too much so with its languid pacing. “Heartbreaker”, though, is fantastic and easily competes with any track on Album. In its gleeful progressions flying high over somber lyrics, Owens begins to resemble Felt’s Lawrence in more ways than one. He packs a nasally snarl during the verse, complemented by acoustic strums that align with his heightening range. The chorus introduces a gorgeous set of keys that twinkle alongside Owens’ plying “why”s, many of which add an alt-country feel expanded more upon in the subsequent “Broken Dreams Club”.

The closing track, “Carolina”, again brings up some surprising comparisons – Radiohead, Wilco, Sonic Youth, and Dennis Wilson. Owens’ voice has sporadically resembled the late Beach Boy before, and the comparison to Wilson – who wrote two phenomenal albums – emerges most triumphantly during the song’s final minutes, where Owens’ “doo-wob wob wob – doo-wob wob wob” harmonizes beautifully with his enthusiastic yelps proclaiming “Carolina, caroooliina!”. He sings this after a build-up that blends both post-rock and alternative. After the abrupt guitar halts and anthemic vocals in the following bridge, the vocal harmonizing feels like a calming after a storm. This is one release where the only issue is length; understandably it is generous for an EP at 35 minutes, but several of these tracks are so gorgeous that my desire for a new Girls EP has increased even more, which I didn’t think was possible at this point.

9.0/10.0

RIYL: The Beach Boys, Dennis Wilson, Sonic Youth, Wilco, Bob Dylan, Jonathan Richman, Best Coast, Wavves, Surfer Blood, Real Estate, Beach House

Girls – Thee Oh So Protective One

Girls – Alright

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by Mike Mineo

Down There may be the most apt album title of the year. Avey Tare’s debut full-length sounds like it was recorded in some submerged swamp, where the croaking of frogs and buzzing of flies is enough to satisfy the percussive urges of Tare – AKA David Portner, best known for his work in Animal Collective. Portner’s production on his debut full-length is resourceful yet serene, sparse enough for his voice to tremble with signature passion yet expansive enough to allow for the monumental build-ups that Animal Collective fans are accustomed to. The truth is that Down There was recorded at a church in upstate New York, not some brooding cave that magically lights up in a variety of colors with each accompanying synth arpeggio. That is simply what your imagination will concoct when listening to an album like this, full of sounds and ideas that trigger the most bizarre of images.

The album begins with a very low-pitched voice ominously proclaiming “down there!”, followed by a scream that sounds like it came from someone or something that just fell into an endless hole of abyss. Through this, it is immediately apparent that Portner is taking this swampily melodic delivery seriously. There is not anything on Down There that resembles the spontaneous screams in “For Reverend Green” or the crunchy loops in “Summertime Clothes”. Portner said himself that songs on Down There will not appeal to fans of Animal Collective’s “sugary” stuff, like “My Girls”. This album’s tone is more along the lines of “No More Runnin’” or more appropriately “Bluish”, both tracks that contain initial sereneness that is flexible enough to allow for tonal expansion. Some tracks on Down There – particularly “Cemeteries” and “Heads Hammock” – lack the explosive hooks of such past favorites, but they are in the minority here. These “mood” tracks are not particularly dazzling on their own, but in the context of Down There – which finds literally every song transitioning beautifully into the next – they serve an essential purpose. This is an album that Portner wrote in response to some personal struggles the past few years, like the separation with his wife Kría Brekkan, the death of his grandmother, and the diagnosis of his sister with cancer. Even on the tracks where the melodies are not as strong, the savvy emotional punch of the content is not in doubt.

When one looks at the highlights on Down There, it is not a crime to say that they compare to any classic Animal Collective or Panda Bear tracks. “Ghost of Books” is absolutely stunning, building up to a frantic combo of trickling keys and dub-like bass where Portner repeats, “I’m so tired of disappearing. You’re so beautiful you can’t hear me.” The final two minutes of this are quite extraordinary, melodically empowering and structurally gripping. “Ghost of Books” does have stiff competition for the album’s most impressive effort though. Any of the first three tracks, and later the heartrending “Heather in the Hospital”, holds similar worth. The latter contains morbid imagery over some translucent twinkle of keys, reminiscent in a way of Alan Ball’s “Six Feet Under”. “Machines of modern magic keeping folks above the ground,” he sings, before overlapping several vocal cuts to express that “it brings me down.” The passion is evident, illustrating the scene at a hospital where the light of day passes through windows to momentarily touch those that are bandaged and on their deathbeds.

He details the pain and suffering of boyfriend the dad, the mom… yet he remains unable to relate to the pain of the patient, suffering selflessly in their hospital bed. It is heartbreaking yet entirely comprehensible – the feeling of helplessness as you look at someone you love in pain. It is easy to spot the sincerity in this song, as Portner wrote it about his family’s experience with his sister’s cancer. It follows a similar delivery of The Antlers’ gorgeously tragic Hospice, one of 2009’s best and also one of the most genuine musical pieces detailing the witnessing of bed-bound suffering. The next track, “Lucky 1”, is essentially a continuation of “Heather in the Hospital”. Its bubbly synths sound like a triumphant reprise of sorts, ending the album with a hint of optimism after revealing one of Portner’s most personal tracks.

Down There is not all emotionally heavy, which may be fortunate considering it had the chance to override Portner’s blatant melodic tendencies. The exuberantly melodic “Oliver Twist” is more Animal Collective-like with its warbly vocals and heavy synth pads, which provide a beautiful arrangement that carries the synth stabs to a vibrant percussive accompaniment. It is here, in the final minute or so, that Portner’s vocal chops show their full potential. The ferocity of his vocals seem reliant on the ferocity of percussion; the consistently dubstep-like drums that take up much of Down There means that Portner’s voice is consistently restrained as well, at least compared to earlier Animal Collective material. But there is usually one or two segments of a song that yields very interesting results, where the song gets busy. In “Laughing Hieroglyphic” we find it when the keyboards subtly change melody; the instrumentation is only slightly different, but the dual punch of Portner’s climaxing voca melody and percussive stomps bring the listener to the song’s primary hook.

“3 Umbrellas” is more straightforward and tropical-sounding. The echoey Afro-pop and repeating structure make it perhaps the album’s most conventional track. It is not nearly as interesting as the others, but still delightfully catchy. It stands as one of three excellent tracks that open up the album though. If not for the dull period that encompasses “Cemeteries” and “Heads Hammock”, Down There would be a stunning listen completely throughout. As it stands though, it plays like a very well-crafted album that should allow listeners to appreciate Portner’s additions to Animal Collective’s vast catalog even more. Personally, I believe there are some tracks on here that overshadow recent Panda Bear solo tracks by a wide margin. There is little reason to compare though, as both artists remain required listening nonetheless.

8.5/10.0

RIYL: Animal Collective, Panda Bear, How to Dress Well, Deerhunter, Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti, El Guincho, Women, Teengirl Fantasy, No Age, Candy Claws, Wavves, Gold Panda, James Blake, Glasser, Active Child, The Tough Alliance, CEO, Magic Kids, Twin Sister, Here We Go Magic

Avey Tare – Oliver Twist

Avey Tare – Lucky 1

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Jay Watson and Nick “Paisley Adams” Allbrook are not unfamiliar with success. They are used to it as members of Tame Impala, the group from Western Australia that released perhaps the best psychedelic-rock release of 2010 in Innerspeaker. It was a beast of an album that has drawn acclaim for a genre too familiar with criticism. Their own project, Pond, will inspire kudos for similar reasons. Many contemporary “psychedelic” artists ignore the concept and aim of the genre, which to many is the emission of music that is both invigorating and calming; the namesake alone recalls the intent, which should be receptive to a subdued and tranquil mindset without being too simplistic or over-done. It is understandably a thin line to tread, so I find the premature criticism against psychedelic-rock as “a genre for fetishists” to be a bit off, as success within the genre is renowned to the point of the style being inarguable. When you hear quality psychedelic-rock, you just know it. Innerspeaker was one of the few psychedelic-rock releases in the past few years able to accomplish that.

It is easy to throw around criticism when artists focus too much on how their pedals sound or whether a sample from an actual psychedelic track would fit, and THEN attempt to call themselves psychedelic musicians. Call it a plague brought on by our modern days, where the superfluous multitude of sub-genres dilutes the tradition of certain styles. Or you could pin it on the availability of technology, which could allow your little brother’s guitar to sound like David Gilmour if he familiarizes himself with Pirate Bay. These are absurd things to blame it on though, like blaming a McDonalds for obesity. More options should result in more creativity, not an over-dependence on substitutes for artistic expression. No one wants to hear “drone-rock” with three chords played over a Native Instruments program, just like how listeners could give a shit if you play a backwards loop of a Jefferson Airplane song over ambiance. Optimistically, hearing shameful examples like these makes Tame Impala and past psych-rock heroes sound even better. These revered groups do not need inferior comparisons to prove their selective worth though.

Watson’s history with Tame Impala goes back to their beginnings, as he performed on their 2008 self-titled debut EP. Allbrook has been touring with them for several years and was named an official member earlier this year due to his participation on Innerspeaker. Tame Impala’s head honcho/lead songwriter, Kevin Parker, has returned the favor for his friends by playing live with Pond on occasion. Their fourth studio album, Frond, was released earlier this month and is clearly their best. Chalk it up to experience perhaps, but regardless this is an album that is not a far cry from Innerspeaker, both in terms of quality and style. Pond treads in areas of garage-rock more than Tame Impala by using a sharper tone of distortion and less reverb, while sharing some electronic components that never override the psych-rock feeling. For example, the trickles of synths during “Mussels Tonight?” is not distracting or superfluous, while the vocoded bridge in the middle is simply preparation for a dizzying guitar progression that recalls the best of the genre.

Under the gauzy layers of guitar in “Cloud City” there lies a bit of funk, which in addition to the garage-rock in the self-titled cut and extensive prog-rock in “Duck and Clover” provides for Frond’s fresh perspective on psychedelia. There is not one effort on Frond that lingers away from psychedelia, but the flourishes of various stylistic attemps within concise bridges or outros is always delightful. The last four minutes of “Frond”, for instance, is a beautiful arrangement of orchestral elements and guitars that evolves with superb organization from the track’s initial pop-heavy leanings, which is led by a sprightly piano and choir-like procession. A track like “Torn Asunder”, which recalls Suede and Brett Anderson in more ways than one, contains the type of songwriting that most psych-rockers envy. Complete with delicate keys, a calming background of strings, and flourishes of woodwinds, this is the type of effort that will stun a listener making their way through the entirety of Frond. The album has so many surprises, twists, and hooks that one may question its stylistic consistency, even if it is clear. It just contains so much excitement and variation, two components that modern psychedelic-rock has been lacking.

RIYL: Tame Impala, Here We Go Magic, Suede, Beach Fossils, Midnight Juggernauts, Male Bonding, Wild Nothing, MGMT, Wavves, Friendly Fires, The Faint, Justice, The Teenagers, Late of the Pier,Phoenix, Shiny Toy Guns, VHS or Beta, Klaxons, Lotus,  Passion Pit, Wolfmother, Pink Floyd, Jefferson Airplane, Hawkwind, Devendra Banhart

Pond – Frond

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