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

MySpace

BUY

The post Julian Shah-Tayler appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Stereotypes involving the carefree indulgences of a Californian summer have been circulating since surf-rock originated in the ’60s. Its inception was largely brought on by the development and popularization of the spring reverb, which at the time was said to mimic the sound of waves along one of these sunny beaches. Mickey Deora described surf music nicely by calling it “a syndrome — a cluster of symptoms, no single one of which is necessary or sufficient for the diagnosis.” The main symptoms include a limited instrumental arsenal, prominent use of either reverb or the guitar’s vibrato, and a short song length that appealed to the abundantly used metaphor of catching a wave. Similar to that accomplishment, the conventional surf-rock tracks were short, infectious, and brimming with components like reverb or picked staccatos. This action-audio analogy may sound pretentious by today’s independent standards, but back then it was simply incorporating a popular form of youthful expression into another popular form of youthful expression. Music and surfing were unveiled by these groups to have more in common than one would think.

Before even listening to them, it is readily apparent that Surfer Blood are a bit enamored with the style and period of surf music. Their name alone possesses an obvious reference, while expositions of personality on their MySpace site flash glimpses of ocean-themed tracks, references to fun things like weed and Condoleeza Rice, and a bunch of promo photos that are either in front of the ocean or expressing serene artistic emission. This might sound normal enough if you are from West Palm Beach like Surfer Blood, but many fans of indie-rock may find themselves weary of such beach-bound associations. The differences between contemporary indie-rock and surf-rock are prominent for the most part, and to immediately align Surfer Blood with The Beach Boys or Dick Dale would be a premature impulse that would unfortunately result in missing out on a great band for those not attracted whatsoever to these past groups. Surfer Blood do not abide by Deora’s aforementioned symptoms of surf-rock on a strict basis, but by possessing a similar type of musical ideology to their surf-rock predecessors Surfer Rock have crafted an ingenious debut that reaps from an old-fashioned sort of intensity that only those powerful two-minute surf-rock epics from the ’60s brought to the table.

Although they serve exemplary of an artist influenced by an ideology instead of a precise audible style, Surfer Blood’s own unique style is something that should delight fans of modern indie-rock. The charming upbeat pop of The Shins is certainly present, as are groups like The Explorers Club that cling on to ’60s pop and surf-rock through overlapping vocal harmonies, picked tremolos, and lushly serene orchestration. Surfer Blood are a bit more modernistic than a group like The Explorers Club though, evidenced strongly by the variation in guitar tones and levels of distortion in addition to the lead vocals of John Paul Pitts. Amiable and accessible, Pitts always maintains a gleeful and whimsical croon that simultaneously recalls the sparkle-and-spit of James Mercer and versatility of Brian Wilson by aligning his vocal melodies with corresponding guitars. Like in surf-rock and power-pop alike, guitars are the driving force throughout Surfer Blood’s debut album, Astrocoast. These are precisely the two influences at work most consistently too; surf-rock is abundant through its production techniques while the hooks and song structures themselves are more reflective of power-pop.

Apart from “Slow Jabroni” and “Anchorage”, Astrocoast consists of tracks following below the four-minute mark but still achieving incredible growth and innovation during that time, beckoning a similar feeling to that of instrumental surf-rock when it emerged in the early ’60s. It helps that accessible efforts like “Floating Vibes” takes any related stereotypes by the throat to turn it into a gem with precise revision, even if the track’s simplicity and imminent radio time means it is not as durably enjoyable as the rest of this fantastic album. These aforementioned surf-rock instrumentals are even recalled on Astrocoast to a slight degree, which finds its own reworking on “Neighbor Riffs”. Perhaps it resembles post-punk or art-rock due to its selected melodic and tonal choices, but the structure is inherently that of how surf-rock instrumentals were. An initial bass line kicks off the effort and does not subside for the entire duration, instead serving as the source of opportunity for a multitude of dexterous guitar progressions that benefit from aspects like tremolo, reverb, and staccato that undoubtedly resemble conceptual surf-rock. This is a quite a departure from most of the efforts on Astrocoast, but it sits excellently in the middle of Astrocoast as the bridge between indie-pop-minded sensibilities and voraciously raw surf-rock.

“Twin Peaks” is also nicely demonstrative of this medium, seeing a verse that alternates between aptly implemented chirps of guitar and bursts of distortion before going into an exotic infusion of woodwinds and guitars backed by festival-like ambiance. The fact that Surfer Blood are able to involve both of these conceptual ideas within mere seconds of one another is very impressive and it is easily one of Astrocoast‘s biggest strengths. “Fast Jabroni” recalls the fuzzy dance-punk of the late ’80s with its backing synths and excellent bridge, which uses cleverly engineered snippets of guitar arpeggios and strings to piece together a joyous chorus that exposes Pitts’ vocals in the best light possible. The guitar solo toward the end of the track brings us back to the days of quality ’90s power-pop, before the time Weezer transformed from indie-rock heroes to monetarily desperate cash cows taking advantage of their own status to release pathetic music and manipulate dedicated fans in the process. The prominent synths along with Pitts’ chirpy vocals would have allowed this to site well on Donnie Darko‘s soundtrack, where influences like Echo & the Bunnymen and The Church showcased the precursor to an effort like this in the background of rebellious and misdirected youth. There is a sort of concurrent wisdom and youthfulness found in Surfer Blood’s work and it serves as a rare factor that will undoubtedly separate them from the masses.

Other highlights on Astrocoast include “Harmonix”, easily the best psychedelic-geared effort on the album with its droning guitars and reverbed harmonics (as one would assume by the name), and “Take It Easy”, which brilliantly infuses fiddles and plucked staccatos to introduce an ingeniously calming chorus that summarizes this group’s feel-good vibes in more ways than one. There are so many sheer successes on Astrocoast that it is hard not to chalk it down as one of 2009’s best debuts. Their fusion of surf-rock and indie-rock has been attempted recently by groups like The Drums and Holiday Shores with some degree of success, but Surfer Blood appear to be doing it the best so far.

RIYL: The Drums, The Explorers Club, Holiday Shores, Girls, Fool’s Gold, Little Joy, Weezer, The School

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Surfer Blood – Take It Easy

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Surfer Blood – Harmonix

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Surfer Blood – Fast Jabroni

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Kanine Records

MySpace

BUY

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

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

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

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

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

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Aficionado – The Myth About Real Life

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Aficionado – The Same Original Idea

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Aficionado – I Don’t Believe We’ve Met

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Official Web Site

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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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Dead Young Records

MySpace

BUY

The post Come Sing These Crippled Tunes appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

In one room sits a huddled group of professionals, ranging from for-pay songwriters to conniving promoters. Their eyes are all on a whiteboard that lists several opportunities for their fledging client on this starry Friday night. Should he show up at a star’s birthday party, present at an awards show, or attend a charity dinner? It must be such a hassle to be forced to choose just one. Most of the independent groups featured here would probably laugh at such a scenario, either shocked or appalled at the fact that publicity is more important than the music itself these days. But can you really blame those who take advantage of it? When you have a travelling circus of songwriters, performers, and executives by your side throughout the touring and studio sessions, is there really anything else to do apart from flaunting a pretty face and throwing some vocals into an auto-tuner? Artists often struggle to resist the allure of automated production like this, with the major labels hot after a certain talent or superficial component that they can manipulate and promote to produce millions. You are guaranteed a house in Malibu and a new collection of sports cars, but your artistic integrity will be forever plagued, even if the PR firm expertly crafts the image that YOU are the songwriter and not some struggling professional with a knack for melody. Some artists hardly have a choice in the matter, but others are able to find the perfect divide between polished, accessible production and DIY ethics.

The XX playfully list their influences in regard to opposite spectrums, commercial success and cult success. It is not so much dependent on style, but instead how similar approaches can end up differing dramatically based on the pressures of derivative automation. They like everything from Aaliyah to CocoRosie, Rihanna to The Cure, and Missy Elliott to Chromatics. Some sharp contrasts, sure, but their message is clear in describing their influences this way. This London-based quartet is the antithesis of independent elitism, showing both their adoration for mainstream pop music and independent stylistic mash-ups with a sound that contains the commercially receptive allure of acts like Rihanna and Aaliyah but without the repetitive, industrialized facades that tarnish their images. Perhaps this applies not so much in teen America or MTV’s headquarters, but more in regard to readers of this site. You obviously come here to discover bands that have little to no recognition as of its publishing date, and to produce something that I and others deem quality without substantial recognition usually means that ambition and/or innovation has prevented the act from scaling the dizzying heights of national recognition. I do know that many listeners of these acts strive to be “ironic” for the hell of it, but it is hard to imagine anything more ironic than innovation and ambition serving as detriments to an artist’s career opportunities.

In another ironic twist of sorts, perhaps The XX’s maturity can be attributed to their young age. It sounds nearly contradictory, but these four schoolyard friends from southwest London clearly embody a new musical philosophy that seems completely aware of the fact that pop music does not need to be overproduced, stylistically derivative, or full of Hollywood cameos in order to manufacture great hooks. It is a rare and admirable sight to behold, especially when art-rock natives like the Arctic Monkeys lately appear more focused on whether their songs are good enough for radio airplay than the album itself. Unlike most of their contemporaries, The XX have crafted an album, not a collection of songs that they jumbled together for purposes of exposure. The desperation is clearly not prevalent for the four-piece, which is all the more admirable when one considers that they are barely out of their teens. For their debut album, 2.0, it is audibly indicative that the members stayed up well past their bedtimes. Like Junior Boys or early Air, 2.0 possesses a late-night feel that can be attributed to serene soundscapes, mostly led by a rumbling rhythm section that paces itself perfectly. It complements chilly synths and husky vocals with absolute precision, alternating between concise bass lines and highly rhythmic propulsions when the song calls for it. It helps that, like many musicians, The XX seem to work almost exclusively at night. The quality shows.

Oliver Sim and Romy Madley Croft are responsible for these aforementioned vocals, showing their beautiful abilities in the form of both duets and solo accompaniments. Their voices often sound trapped in an icicle-laden cave, the reflection of reverb becoming apparent due to the minimalistic arrangements. Synthesizers and guitars collide in the beautiful “Infinity” as both interchangeably emit a soulful croon, with a slight tinge of Afro-pop being evident in the spright keys of the similarly presented “Basic Space”. This track reminds me of a Matthew Herbert effort; the arrangement evolves into an absolutely brilliant progression as Croft’s angelic vocals become complemented by Sim’s low, grizzly croon. He himself sounds a bit like Rufus Wainwright, perhaps driven by the seductive mixture of icy keys and slick guitar tremolos. “Crystalised” is another standout, opening with two simultaneous guitar progressions before unfolding into a largely bass-driven gem. The vocals of Sim and Croft do an exceptional job of building into the chorus, first delving into a duet before the explosive chorus of guitars, bass, and subtle samples that illustrate a sense of urgency with a distantly operatic synth pad. “We just keep on getting closer,” they sing before this moment occurs, once again showing that irresistible pop hooks can unfold from even the simplest of circumstances. 2.0 may be deemed minimalistic by casual admirers of pop music, but the fact is that The XX’s debut is more intricate and involved than most releases you are bound to pick up this year. All 11 tracks unfold with beauty, elegance, and precision, never hesitant to surprise a listener with innovation enclosed in an atmosphere of slight familiarity. 2.0 needs to be heard, as it is easily one of the best debuts of 2009.

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The XX – Basic Space

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The XX – Crystalised

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The XX – Infinity

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Official Web Site

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Rough Trade Records

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The post The XX appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

There is a certain sense of stubbornness that, in some cases, can make a solo artist great. When gifted songwriters maintain their individuality, they tend to treat their influences as stepping stones instead of a basis for imitation. Unlike the band format, solo artists do not have to be held down by the vague intentions that derive from other members’ influences. The great bands blend their differences into one cohesive sound, but this is unfortunately in the rarest of cases. It is likelier that a band is torn apart by irrevocably subjective matters, like a preferred stylistic direction or the frequency of certain influences that may pertain to only one or two members. For a band to achieve greatness, the collaborative atmosphere must be open to new ideas and embracing toward each member’s taste. Otherwise, the quality will suffer due to indecision and the collaborative quality will be noticeably deficient. And then there are those artists that have ideas and influences so unconventional that finding a group of like-minded collaborators seems impossible. Consequently, they begin to pursue the music occupation on their own, with their high level of creativity and innovation actually serving as a detriment to their ability to successfully collaborate with other musicians.

This is a very common scenario that often decides whether a band without one driving force can be successful. Without one songwriter in complete control, it is a necessity to have members that are either similar in taste or intelligently receptive toward other ideas. The only way to avoid this is to ease oneself into a working environment with different members, gradually introducing new ideas as each member unknowingly acquires a new taste palette that allows them to work cohesively with the other members. Such is the case with Mariage Blanc, a six-piece from Pittsburgh whose ingenious collaborative tendencies are shown tremendously on their first release, Broken Record. They have been working on this seven-song EP since their formation last fall, and the result is nothing short of an extraordinary burst of creative energy within the generally recurring field of indie-rock. The group possesses two primary songwriters in Matt Ceraso and Josh Kretzmer, instantly demanding cohesive collaboration because of the split dynamic. Broken Record shows that they are both incredibly gifted songwriters with independent and collaborative ideas that serve as a representation of their gradual working relationship that is now complete and comfortable after some clever maneuvering.

Oddly enough, Mariage Blanc actually started out as a way to promote the separate solo projects of Ceraso and Kretzmer. Due to the difficulties of finding other members and slight artistic differences, the two Pitt graduates decided to release a split EP instead of forming a band together. The two had graduated from the same college, but had not began working together until after school through some mutual friends. The creative process surrounding this split EP was the fire that ignited the true form of Mariage Blanc, as Ceraso and Kretzmer grew more comfortable with one another’s taste, stylistic direction, and musicianship as the studio hours filled up. What was initially a way to split an EP together eventually became a full band with even fuller aspirations. Once the duo began learning how to truly work together, finding other members seemed easy. The others joined shortly thereafter, perhaps showing that it is a lot easier to find collaborators once one has already successfully collaborated with another that possesses ideas that are initially in slight contrast to one’s own. Mariage Blanc was put into motion from this point, and with the release of Broken Record they look to expand beyond the borders of Pittsburgh and into a national audience that should be very receptive toward their masterfully crafted indie-rock.

Mariage Blanc’s Broken Record shows a group that is simultaneously content with ‘60s pop and modernistic production. Wurlitzers, brass, synths, and strings complement the conventional indie-rock arsenal of guitars and rhythm to stir up a wonderful array of melodically rich songs, never lacking in hooks or fresh ideas. The overlapping vocal harmonies and big-time psychedelic choruses suggest a retro feel, but polished production and songcraft allow both the charm of nostalgia and preciseness of technology to exist within the same realm. “Marquee” starts off quite naturally with a rollicking guitar solo, tidied up into a simple progression once Ceraso’s serene vocals reflect a bouncy synth melody. The song often jumps between boisterous guitars and the quaint twinkling of keys and synths, the latter being best used around 02:03 when tremolos of strings signal an alteration in melody and stylistic direction (indie-rock exuberance to chamber-pop elegance). “Sunken Ship” is another excellent effort that features mariachi horns, strings, and guitars to a stunning effect, resulting in one of the most sweeping engagements on Broken Record. The EP’s opener, “Contrary to Popular Belief”, is mellower with its acoustic guitars, xylophone-like keys, and use of woodwinds, but it still packs the same emotional punch as “Marquee”. The vocals here whisper enticingly, creating an inviting atmosphere that succeeds because it attempts stylistic marvel without detracting from the substance. The cheery bursts of keys at the end are an excellent touch as well, wrapping up a gorgeous song that begins an excellent EP in Broken Record.

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Mariage Blanc – Marquee


[audio:http://mineorecords.com/mp3/mblanc-mar.mp3]

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Mariage Blanc – Contrary to Popular Belief

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Mariage Blanc – Sunken Ship

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MySpace

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Foreign causes are often distinctive enough to warrant recognition on their own. Food is probably the most common instance of this, with the international food industry comprising for a substantial bulk of food sales in the US. After all, restaurants that are in contrast to burger joints and other casual American delicacies offer more than just food. Atmosphere is just as important, and for exotic eateries it can be the difference in retaining a customer or turning them away. There is the actual product and then the appearance, which can either relate to the appearance of the product or the atmosphere in which the product exists. Such distinctions surprisingly overlap into the music industry as well, with the allure of a foreign product being comparable. Audiences become consumed by how songwriting techniques vary from country to country, how these international musicians present their work, and how prominently their influences are displayed (in addition to who their influences actually are). It is a change of pace, and for that audiences may become more lenient or even ignore them altogether due to their foreign status. After all, culture shock can be intimidating and this relates to numerous areas, including food and music. Although their name suggests otherwise, Foreign Born are simply a bunch of guys from Los Angeles. However, their music implies a more collective fusion of influences that makes their presentation distinctive enough for the title.

While Foreign Born’s style shows accessible shades of indie-rock that would be receptive toward most contemporary fans, the diversity presented on their second album, Person to Person, is more indicative of an eclectic fusion of influences, both domestic and international. British rock is certainly a prominent influence for this talented four-piece, citing the Happy Mondays and Echo & the Bunnymen as stepping stones for their guitar-based sound. This British style of rock is fused with classic American songsmiths like Bob Dylan, Townes Van Zandt, and Harry Nilsson. Their catchy mixture of concisely implemented guitar licks, frantic percussion, and other conventional attributes of art-rock does not exactly coincide with the folksy singer/songwriter musings of Dylan or Nilsson, but their simultaneous ability to combine memorable musical accompaniments and engaging lyrical content is something that combines the broodingly infectious form of British post-punk that dominated the ‘80s and the interpretively heartfelt lyrical content of traditional American folk songwriters. To combine characteristics of two separate genres with differing geographical origins is risky for a young group, but Foreign Born looks to finally prevail with a new album that blends their large assortment of influences beautifully.

To avoid the factor of intimidation that applies to most music with a variety of inspirations, Foreign Born’s new album, Person to Person, has the distinction of treading within a familiar style while exploring new territory in each song. Their first album, On the Wing Now suffered from a lack of cohesion despite some worthwhile standouts, serving as an example of a young band with heaps of potential but a lack of focus. Despite this though, they were proclaimed as one of the most promising groups in the LA area and earned some generally positive reviews. The most prominent aspects of the album included Matt Popieluch’s soaring vocals and Garrett Ray’s outstanding drumming ability. Foreign Born held the distinction of being a group with a capacity for anthemic heart-pumpers, and this is hardly different on Person to Person. If anything, this strength is capitalized upon even more with the expansion of the group’s instrumental repertoire, featuring an assortment of woodwinds, strings, brass, and synths. From the twinkling of synths in “It Grew on You” to the exotic, Lennon-like use of strings in “See Us Home”, there is plenty of eclectic musicianship on Person to Person. This is where the importance of Ray shines more than ever, as he is often the only steady force amongst a flurry of impressive instrumental additions. With an astute ability to turn even the simplest melodies into an intricately empowering force and the overly complex efforts into a more accessible format, Ray is largely responsible for restraining the group’s lofty ambitions to a point where their material is accessible and instantly rewarding.

Staying true to their summery interpretation of indie-pop, “Early Warnings” is a great demonstration of the group’s cumulative melodic capacity and Ray’s largely complementary role in modifying some good songwriting to make it excellent. The lead guitar has the type of twang that one would expect from Little Joy, The Shins, or any other conventionally accessible indie-pop group, but the subtle variations within the track make it a treat that would benefit from a variety of listens. Listeners with a tendency to focus on the percussive elements more than anything (drummers mainly) will likely find themselves impressed at the track’s end, as Ray has a tendency of restraining his percussion when vocals or instrumentation are at full force and knocking out an impressive solo when instrumental minimalism requires it. This results in a plethora of diversity throughout the album, both structurally and stylistically. The feel-good nature of “Early Warnings” benefits heftily from this, as the verse’s lack of frantic percussion complements the unavoidable entry of it in the chorus extraordinarily. “Blood Oranges” also offers an excellent build-up, primarily found in a stunning rhythm section led by Ray and bassist Ariel Rechtshaid. “Anthemic” was a word used often to describe Foreign Born’s debut, and Popieluch’s vocal performance here remains indicative of that as well. On the Wing Now was impressive for a debut album, but Person to Person exceeds it on most fronts in being the summation of Foreign Born’s underrated depth and potential. Merely avoiding the sophomore slump is an achievement in itself, to make an album that trumps an already-impressive debut in several ways is a rare spectacle that is hard to rival.

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Foreign Born – Early Warnings

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Foreign Born – Blood Oranges

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Foreign Born – It Grew on You

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

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

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

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

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Alligators – Original Fear

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Alligators – If You Want To

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Alligators – Where Does It Hide

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Robert Bradley has strayed on both sides of the tracks. From singing on the streets of Detroit to appearing on major-label albums and in high-budget films, he is reflective of artists that maximize even the most humble of circumstances to acquire experience and eventually prevail. Street performers can live happily if funds never go awry and they genuinely enjoy playing music for a living, but there must be an apparent frustration within these artists. How can they not lament an inability to get their music heard beyond the street they are performing on? Many street performers have devoted their lives to music, so there must be some apparent desire for recognition. For many this desire is subtle, and happiness is simply derived from seeing a dozen or so people a day walk by and display some sort of enjoyment in response to their music. Bradley was never a stereotypical street performer since he became renowned for his singing at coffeehouses, Baptist churches, and Detroit’s Eastern Market for nearly three decades, a local legend of sorts whose soulful voice and enigmatic presence made hordes of passerbys stop and take notice. He is also blind, so one must feel sorrowful in the respect that he is not able to see the happiness that his music brings to people’s faces. He certainly heard their praise though, and two of those that took lauded him were Michael and Andrew Nehra, members of indie-rockers Second Self.

The Nehra brothers were immediately impressed by Bradley’s natural ability, ardent demeanor, and obvious commitment, prompting a discussion among musicians once they met him on the street. The story goes like this: the group was practicing for Second Self when they heard a distinctive voice coming from below their apartment. They followed the soulful croon until they came across Bradley, paving the way for a discussion regarding future collaboration. Robert Bradley’s Blackwater Surprise was formed then and it proved to mark a fusion of two generations, one consumed by blues and the other by alternative-rock. Bradley had decades’ worth of experience and his aged features showed that, while the Nehra brothers and drummer Jeff Fowlkes represented a bunch of fresh-faced indie-rock kids that were looking to add a twist to the occasionally generic alt-rock of the early ‘90s. An odd pairing to say the least, but it worked nonetheless and a deal with RCA Records took place shortly prior to the group’s debut album, Blackwater Surprise. Bradley’s years of cumulative musical experience and the Nehra brothers’ background in production were essential to the debut’s success, an impressive release that saw the blending of blues, soul, and gospel into a guitar-based formula that was easily received by the early ‘90s alternative-rock crowd.

Blackwater Surprise featured plenty of bluesy improvisation from Bradley, but the group’s second album, Time to Discover, resulted in a more expansive type of sound that found Bradley and his young backing band in a more collaborative environment. Bradley’s raspy vocals and honest lyrics were still the most distinctive parts of the release, but Fowlkes and the Nehra brothers provided backing instrumentation that provided more diversity, ambition, and infectiousness than the debut. The critical acclaim was even more prominent for Time to Discover too, with Allmusic calling it “the first modern blues classic of the new millennium.” One of Bradley’s best friends, Kid Rock, also made an appearance on the album before he was even relatively notorious. The acclaim was still not enough to keep the group on RCA Records though, as the style appeared too frustrating for commercial benefits. Some fans of blues found it to be too restrained, while alt-rockers found fault in its fusion of the past and present. Most critics and eclectic music fans enjoyed it though, so the group kept chugging along and signed with Vanguard for the release of their third album, New Ground, in 2002. This marked the departure of the Nehra brothers, but Fowlkes stayed on board and Bradley brought in Matthew Ruffino, a songwriter and guitarist. Similar results were achieved as on their RCA releases, drawing acclaim but not much in regard to commercial success. Critics saw it as consistency, but not enough in terms of improvement needed in order to vaunt the group into national recognition.

The group’s fourth album, Still Lovin’ You, featured Bradley leading the album more than before, taking sole songwriting track on every track apart from a cover of Isaac Hayes’ “I Thank You”. There was an additional emphasis on Philly soul in order to supplement Bradley’s vocals more comfortably, and it succeeded for the most part in another success that saw the band straying in a consistently good category that was not exactly “great” yet. This album was released in 2003, signaling a five-year wait in between the release of Still Lovin’ You and their new album, Out of the Wilderness. Efforts like “Alabama”, an ode to Bradley’s home state, slides more into classic rock territory; the sound is more reflective of The Allman Brothers while the chorus’ hook shows shades of Harry Nilsson. “My heart still lives in Alaba-a-ma,” Bradley croons during the gripping chorus. His voice sounds better than ever, and the backing instrumentation contains more swagger and hooks than all of his past releases. The greatness of “Alabama” even prompted the state’s governor, Bob Riley, to award Bradley with a Certificate of Commendation. Such a display is indicative of Bradley’s sheer poetic prowess, using both his vocals and vivid storytelling abilities to create something powerful and captivating.

In addition to the excellent “Alabama”, Out of the Wilderness contains plenty of material to get excited about. The swanky “Americaland” recalls vintage Elvis Costello with Bradley’s nasally mumbling, the organ’s eventual prominence, and the funk of the scraggly guitars, while “Love You in the Daytime” is strongly reminiscent of singer/songwriter balladry in the vein of Randy Newman. One of the album’s more sensitive cuts, “Beautiful Girl”, touches on the topic of dealing with a child leaving home. It is one of Bradley’s most lighthearted affairs but still achieves success based on his prevalent ardency, an aspect that is presented most prominently during the up-tempo chorus. “Cryin’ My Eyes Out” and “Gotta Find a Woman” are more conventional of Bradley’s soulful relations of despair and detriments, and the difference in tonality between tracks like these and “Beautiful Girl” or “Love You in the Daytime” makes the flow of Out of the Wilderness extraordinary. There is plenty to like here, as Out of the Wilderness is the album that has finally pushed Bradley from good to great. Although his past success is still respectable, his experience has finally paid off with his biggest success yet. The album has already generated unusual commercial success, with “Love You in the Daytime,” “Cryin’ My Eyes Out,” and “Everybody Wanna Party” appearing in the movie Love n’ Dancing with Billy Zane and Amy Smart. As Bradley’s track history shows though, I doubt he cares much about Hollywood success. Out of the Wilderness is a clear success that will bring enjoyment to many people, and that is the most important thing to the Alabama native.

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Robert Bradley’s Blackwater Surprise – Alabama

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Robert Bradley’s Blackwater Surprise – Love You in the Daytime

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Robert Bradley’s Blackwater Surprise – Beautiful Girl

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Urban legends and Hollywood productions certainly have a hand in molding the common perception of being in a band. Want a bowl of M&Ms in your room after the show, with all the brown ones removed? It’s on the way, sir. How about suggestively introducing some groupies to live seafood? Sounds fun. Between urban legends like these and the handful of pseudo-rockumentaries in the vein of Almost Famous, the romanticized concept of existing within a popular band has existed at least since the British invasion’s introductory use of rock ‘n’ roll stereotyping in the early ‘60s. Since that time, what these aspects of film often seem to overlook are the artistic obstacles involved in this creative process. They instead choose to focus on the overly grandiose lifestyles and unique personalities of the band members themselves, often showing artistic struggles as the result of drug addiction or non-commitment. After all, what is going to sell more: sex and drugs or watching an aging band attempt to write songs together? Commercialism tells us that it is the former, so it remains difficult to criticize these filmmakers for attempting to make the elements of existing within a popular band accessible and engaging. To deal with such expected fallacies though, looking at the reasons for the California-based Klum’s imminent success should enlighten many fans in regard to the inner-workings of a successful group more than any overly dramatized film or VH1 special.

When one looks back upon the most successful rock groups of the 20th century, it is distinctive that practically every group was based on collaborative quality. Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, and Pink Floyd all had some members that attracted the spotlight more than other members, but their mutual infusion of collaborative quality was a distinction that allowed their music to live without any major constraints that ended their careers as a group too abruptly. Many of these groups included members that could pick up nearly any instrument and start strumming away to perfection, indicative of their musical talent but also of their willingness to make communication between members as clearly as possible. Instrumental differences are a common detriment to a cumulative songwriting process, as the greatest songwriters tend to exhibit audible mastery of every instrument included in their work. Being a multi-instrumentalist or at least having a respectable grasp of a broad array of instruments makes working with others significantly easier, as their ideas can be extracted easily and fused with others to create something genuinely worthwhile. The six members in Klum are all multi-instrumentalists and it allows their songwriting to serve as a display of an extraordinarily impressive cumulative effort, reinforced by a mutual dedication to melodic astuteness and successful pop experimentation that each member demonstrates in their own unique way.

Klum’s second full-length album, We Carelessly Turned Amazingly Into Nothing, can show the band’s excellent chemistry just in the quality of the eleven songs alone, but experienced listeners will likely walk away more impressed by their ceaselessly unpredictable approach and tactful cohesiveness. Klum delivers the type of experimental pop music that hardly sounds experimental, an oddly exciting result that derives from infectious melodies, uplifting brass arrangements, and an unpredictable assortment of instrumentation and vocalists. As far as the classification of their genre goes, Klum and their efforts on We Carelessly Turned Amazingly Into Nothing are not restricted by any linear stylistic identity. “For Sale a New Life” plays like an amiable indie-pop charmer with its twinkling keys and ukulele accompaniment, while the fascinating “The Showmen” benefits from boisterous electric guitars, backing pub-like yelps, and concise brass arrangements. The former sounds like some spawn of Unicorns and The Leisure Society, while the latter finds distinctive comparisons to Elbow, British Sea Power, and art-rockers in the vein of Franz Ferdinand and Dogs. These comparisons alone suggest a vast difference in style on a track-by-track basis, which is true. But what must not go overlooked is Klum’s apparent ability to implement the stylistically diverse into a style that is honest, unique, and something that they can truly call their own.

While “For Sale a New Life” does a great job of showing off the band’s indie-pop leanings and “The Showmen” fulfills the task of successfully exposing Klum’s grittier, rock-oriented side, it is a few of the more interesting tracks on We Carelessly Turned Amazingly Into Nothing that really make it one of the most memorable debuts of the year thus far. The opening “Bashing for the Kids” plays with over-the-top guitar riffs and ardent vocal deliveries in a way that Black Kids would envy, indicative of Klum’s ability to bring out the expressively effective without appearing melodramatic. In fact, Klum seem free-spirited and fun most of the time, even during the somber chamber-pop balladry of “My Baby’s Just Stardust” and the twinkling build-up to the distorted angst of “Our Monster’s End.” Perhaps the biggest gem on the album though comes from “Nonbeliever”, an undeniably fist-pumping frenzy of a track that shows the group’s talents most prevalently. The various vocal melodies howl like wolves at the moon when the first verse is introduced, led astray over a catchy piano progression and a variety of samples that allow the song to be simultaneously haunting and infectious. The overlapping vocal harmonies of Brock Flores, Joe Fraley, and Aaron Arkenburg allow concurrent high-pitched and low-pitched vocals to supplement the brilliant intricacies of “Nonbeliever” as it flawlessly concludes the track. “Nonbeliever” should be all a listener needs to be convinced of Klum’s blatant ability, but the likes of “For Sale a New Life” and “The Showmen” also do a fine enough job. In fact, if I were forced to choose one track to represent this album, it would prove extraordinarily difficult. We Carelessly Turned Amazingly Into Nothing is too consistently memorable for such linear classifications.

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Klum – Nonbeliever

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Klum – For Sale a New Life

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Klum – The Showmen

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