Thoughts On Frozen

2012: Year In Review

2012. It will be known as the year we went trick-or-treating, ate a Thanksgiving meal and bought a Christmas tree all within the same month. Everyone thought the world was going to end, again. We took our voices to the polls (even Yuula) and joined a CSA that steered us in the direction of good health. We barely resisted. We saw two amazing concerts, Lost In The Trees at Le Poisson Rouge in NYC and Sigur Rós in Philadelphia. We enjoyed the company of some greatest friends from Sante Fe and oldest ones from Houston and Brooklyn. The Estler family took a group vacation to the mountains and sects of Krupps assembled at our house throughout the year, coming from the south and the midwest. Kevin and Mariah got engaged and Theresa and Bubba popped out baby Nolan. The Giants won the Super Bowl! The Mets were good and then ultimately sucked. Then Giants were good but then ultimately sucked. We hung out with the Trunks a lot. I think they're our friends now.


As for Yuula, the obvious developments, expanding her vocabulary, wardrobe and stuffed animal army was in play, as well as the advancement in her general understanding of human interactions. She's managed to string together words into what can loosely be defined as sentences, tho her mother and I are often the only ones who can interpret them to anything even closely resembling statements. Her personality has grown leaps and bounds, mostly in the weird directions. She finds some real joy in things like wildlife, ice cream and all things cute and pink that she can "aww" at. She has some quirks that we hope she keeps forever and some habits we hope she breaks soon. She's become quite independent, but still wants her cuddle-time. She's imaginative and self-sufficient, but enjoys playtime even more if you join in her games. The terrible twos are trying yes, but I wouldn't trade the good moments in between for anything. And the potty is still a barren wasteland that serves as a side table for her new Mickey couch. 


This year we managed to make it about 6 months eating dinner around the table, as a family. Then we saw our DVR piling up with shows and took our meals in front of the old boob tube, like good old Americans. This year's favorites are New Girl, Portlandia, and the Walking Dead, which Laura finally overcame her fear of fearful things to fall in love with. Maybe it was because I suffered thru her Dance Moms marathons, those women are their own little horror show. I managed to squeeze in Battlestar Galactica, in its entirety, sans Laura, since she don't do sci-fi. We watched very few movies, in their whole forms. I think one day this summer we had a triple feature and it took us until early this year to see one we've been waiting to see. Moonrise Kingdom was a spur of the moment gift from my parents, and other than that... I watched The Grey one night, by myself. That's kind of it.


I think our finest moments, as a trio, came while killing it in some garage sakes. But outside that, it was probably while we were out on the island of Assateague, merely because it was our first stab at the fabled family vacation. Yeah, Laura will tell you her back hurt from sleeping in a tent, and Yuula's body swelled up like a puffer fish from all the horsefly bites and I cursed a little bit too much at the bonfire, but we had fun. The wild horses, the boardwalk in Ocean City, the general and sincere wandering, and possibly the first time in a long time I've had a genuinely good time on the beach, our little early fall getaway was joyous and relaxing. And the first time you do anything, you're really just working the bugs out. So family vacation #1 down, it can only get better. This year, Russia! But Chicago, Nantucket and Lake Erie are also in the mix.   


In disappointments, I guess that would be our outdoor efforts. Not that we didn't get anything done, but more got things done and have not much to show for it, creating blank slates and all. We did a lot of removal of landscaping and not a lot of addition, and that which we did add, didn't amount to much. Our garden did not flourish, to our own faults, and a possibly over-ambitious to-do list was left mostly unchecked. Once again I couldn't even rake all the leaves before the snows fell. That's just shameful. We'll spend all winter gazing out the frosty windows and building up our spring urges. Let's hope for a full on bloom.

I guess 2013 can now begin.

Aural Quarterly: January-March 2012

{I've been holding on to this for a couple weeks. Dunno why. I guess I forgot.}

Took me a while to get all my thoughts together on this trimester. Lots of good stuff, including a continuation of a complete takeover by lady singers and a few reaches outside the of the box into things you may not have been able to come across in your every day affairs. Get a pen and paper.

JANUARY

Beautify the sythesizers, synthesize the beauty, and pay homage to the best the 80's had to offer, Chairlift (left) brilliantly channel the likes of Blondie, Culture Club and Spandau Ballet (I hear it), with killer choruses and flow most albums dream about, Something is the years first great listen sporting awesome creativity in unflinching pop tunes and the centerpiece ballad that as a standalone is gorgeous enough but only benefits more from its anxious neighbors. Itch the inside of your ear and you'll miss the ridiculously lovely melodies put forth by Flights on Anywhere But Where I Am, which is an ironic title because listening to this album makes me want to lie down wherever it is I am and take it all in. My go-to sedative for the late winter season, this will surely maintain steady rotation throughout the late summer evenings and early Sunday mornings. It's versatile. A recent name change to Foreign Fields only has me hoping for another release sooner than later. When you hear that a band's been "experimenting" for the new release, you can't help but feel like you're in for some tough love, but I'll be damned if Django Django selftitled debut is the most fun I've had listening to music this year. Beach Boys harmonies, wiggling synths, raucous jungle drums, un-ironic Egyptian keyboard riffs. If I were an avid beach-goer this would be my sunny soundtrack, but the ocean would need to be purple, the sky yellow, the sands blue and the seagulls read Vonnegut.

Lana Del Rey is the predecessor of Amy Winehouse, not quite in sonic comparison (Lana is on the poppier side of the soulful spectrum) but as the latest British export the US feels so obliged to corrupt. I was surprised how much I actually loved her latest, Born To Die, and found not the songs intriguing but more the approach to getting from intro to outro and how riveting she makes songs about video games and blue jeans. Not to mention her husky vocals, yes I will never attend a Lana Del Rey concert, but her album was an easy induction to the year's best. With barely an intelligible lyric and synths so soft and comfy you wanna wrap them around yourself and head out to the dance club I did enjoy Visions, but Grimes (right) is 49% tunes and 51% style and I found myself more interested in her gangster glitz fashion sense and stories of her floating down the Mississippi in a homemade houseboat, I fear I won't make it. You ever listen to Dirty Projectors and wish there wasn't so much music? Apparently Neal Morgan has, and he did something about it. The wildly creative and brazen In The Yard is apparently his 2nd spoken word/drum album that is as challenging as it is rewarding. Completely abandoning any kind of song structure and sense of meter is usually something a band has to do its due diligence to achieve but when  it's just Neal, it almost seems like you let your little cousin loose on a drum kit while he was off his meds and recorded the whole thing, and it was awesome.

Asteroid Galaxy Tour gained notoriety from some Heineken commercial, so it's a real treat to realize that they're aren't a flash in the pan. Out Of Frequency may be the most bombastic album to come out of my speakers so far this year, it's all pop goodness but the crew brings hints of calypso and big band to the table finely incorporating them into an already easily likeable album. Big Deal may have received their moniker from the reaction to yet another boy/girl duo trying to do what's been outdone so recently in misguided attempts at being different, but what is the big deal on Lights Out is how it is an album of simplistic electric guitar and vocal duets and you barely notice the total lack of any percussive accompaniment of lower register when the album ends and you've thoroughly enjoyed it. Sounding straight out of the late 60's, from production value to chord progression, Doug Jerebine (left) injects the jam band  sensibilities of a coherent Hendrix meeting Buffalo Springfield in a time capsule in New Zealand. Doug Jerebine Is Jesse Harper is a welcome mix in a modern playlist.

Sometimes I can't pin down why I like a certain album, like with Trailer Trash Tracys (right) debut Ester. A stepchild of shoegaze and sweet pop with lazy lady vocals, random drum machine fills over shiny synths, it all coalesces into uncontrollable repeat listens, despite the silly band name. So I won't be buying their t-shirts. Member of the UK's second-coming-that-was-not-to-be, The Coral, Bill Ryder-Jones instead composes music for an orchestra to mixed reaction. Die hard fans of classical will trash the simplicity and over indulgence of If... but it's a pleasant listen for anyone interested in the unexpected side projects of rock bands. Made from bits and pieces of one of my favorite UK acts, Tunng, Diagrams takes a step away from the folky goodness and two steps towards cheesy radio pop. Black Light is possibly simply feeding a curious urge to not take themselves so seriously, but I look forward to their return to work.

Dancing is a mandatory part of each day and I look for all the inspiration I can get. Escort (left) have been so kind as to release their self-titled long playing debut that is nothing but. I dare you to sit still. The Maccabees should buy stock in cymbals because their drummer rocks that hi-hat like his life depends on it. That's not a complaint. I love these guys. Given To The Wild really kicks off with a strong couple of tracks, but I felt myself not paying attention to the second half of the album. Just like their last one. At least they're consistent. Going into it, if you know nothing of Nada Surf, you can see song titles like "Teenage Dreams" and "The Moon Is Calling" and kind of know what you're getting yourself into. What this pre-judgemental glimpse can't tell you is that on this album, as they do on all their albums, the trio blast forth with relative abandon and are convincingly oblivious to the fact that they will never outdo their flash in the pan/tongue-in-cheek "hit" from 1996, and they couldn't be more pleased with themselves. Alas, we have the album title The Stars Are Indifferent To Astronomy.

Listening to artists like Ernest Gonzales (right) is how I can justify myself saying that I do indeed listen to all types of music, but this is as far as I'll push that envelope into the dance/beats arena. It's hard to find that hybrid that would be acknowledged as good music in a club on South Beach and a pub in Williamsburg. Natural Traits is one of those pieces of music. You wonder what came first with Himuro Yoshiteru; the lovely and textured melodies or the intricate somewhat spastic beats. Whatever his approach, I would call Our Turn, Anytime a success in music making and tho I wouldn't play it at a party I try and start one around it. And then rounding out the 'others' genre is Portico Quartet playing their brand of jazz/downtempo fusion, to the extent where both those communities would disavow them entirely. For the uninitiated of us who just like interesting music with a good clip and some wild saxophone playing lending way to some fascinating beat driven atmospheric, let's not worry about all that. Self titled and well to do.

I usually don't have the attention span for anything called a "rock opera" but whatever cohesive elements were involved the creation of Pepe Deluxe's Queen Of The Wave worked for me. Shiny bright psychedelia remiscent of swinging 60's mod (done really, really well) interspersed with strange theatrical moments that weave throughout the songs but don't hinder the progress or slow the roll. Yes. Is there any price you can put on good jangly pop tunes? How about great jangly pop tunes with boy/girl/boy vocal trade-off? What if you add a good afrobeat foundation that shuffles along as it creates pristine rock tunes out of rocks and bubblegum? That would be the new Kabeedies (left) Soap. And tho I can't find much on Why These Coyotes except an incredibly sparse fb page, I've still managed to build up an affinity for their all too short Ep Where We're, and since mystery is possibly part of their lure I'll leave out a description of what they sound like so it remains a mystery to you too. Unless you click here.

Really dug new tunes from Lost Lander, Widest Smiling Faces, Enablers, Ani DiFranco, Blaudzun, Moss, Guided By Voices, Limousine, Black Twig, Howler, John K. Samson, Wyld Wyzyrdz, Laura Gibson, Holiday Crowd, Luik and Burning Hearts.

FEBRUARY

Women have ruled my winter, as the likes of  Sharon Van Etten ingraining her melodies in my brain after single listens, and in how a soulful album that lyrically embodies sadness and depression can simultaneously be so musically uplifting. Tramp is a vocally wonderous performance accentuaated by glorious gloom. Encompassing the quirky artpop world of music so far this year is Beth Jeans Houghton & The Hooves Of Destiny. With a modicum of experimentation, but not so much as to alienate, add in breathy vocals and a pinch of glam rock and you have Yours Truly, Cellophane Nose, an album that grows one me every time i give it a spin. Matching the brutal beauty of PJ Harvey possibly with a smattering of cinematic flare, Liesa Van Der Aa sports some sinister tunes freely wielding dissonance that segue effortlessly into powerful choruses and asides. Troops was an unpleasant surprise, in the best way possible, from beginning to end.

It has been decided by underground rock royalties that the studio autotune would be embraced and redefined in an attempt to salvage what may be left of a quite interesting recording tool, the good name of which the commercial music industry has sullied. Never was that more apparent that last year's Bon Iver and this years Give You The Ghost by Poliça. A new band of old vets that is all sultry female vocal backed by a sticky thumping bass and rollicking drums. Those three dynamics of songwriting brought together, sprinkle on a little electronic fairy dust and you've got a hell of a debut. While Matt Ward was off She & Him-ing Bahamas stole his gig and perfected it. Then they added a little extra pop syrup, went one click faster and two clicks slower and Voila! Barchords. Nice for spring/summer. Youth is a nice mixture of new chillwave vibe mixed with pure sugary pop that can still give you cavities. I suggest minimal listening tho, to avoid any blowback. Simian Ghost is the Swedish band that made it, where this kind of music grows on the silver birches free for all to enjoy. I want to live there. 

I've never been an outspoken fan of Sinead O'Connor but I gotta say, her new album How About I Be Me (And Yo Be You)? is pretty darn great. Gone are the tense and over-emotional ballads, not to say there aren't tender moments, but they don't make you uncomfortable to listen in mixed company. Dare I say she sounds downright jubilant during a few tunes. Bringing us to Jenny Owen Youngs (right), who sounds so chipper on An Unwavering Band Of Light you'd think she just got a headlining spot in the Lilith Fair. Moods trading from track to track with rollicking joy to breezy ballads, each chorus more hopeful than the last, this is a record for sunny days and summer drives. Rosie Thomas has a heart, and throughout her Valentine's Day released album With Love, that heart races, sinks, floats, yearns, repairs itself and gets crushed. Falling just short of being way over-polished, the songs themselves keep her far enough out of the commercial company that drenches heartsick 18-25'ers iPods so that I don't have to hide the presence of her music in my playlist.

Upon first listen you may think you're listening to a retro California pop compilation when you hear Grand Hotel. Initially written off as Beach Boys ripoffs, The Explorers Club has really stepped out on their own by changing their approach from writing an homage to good vibes to now just creating them on their very own. This album easily lives in its own world in 2012 as it delivers that delicious sunshine music of that 60's as it started to walk the line of disco. Field Music are a band that has drawn fitting comparisons to Oasis, XTC and the Beatles (yes, really) and for some reason I always want to go for a drive when I'm listening to their brand of progressive pop, but after their last sprawling double disc adventure, it seems the experimentation hat is still on and while there are some straightforward ditties of pleasantry, Plumb is more of an unconventional zig zag thru the woods and over the river, or under it. They're not sure yet. Either way Plumb is a peach and best taken as a whole, pit and all. I gave Bad Weather California (left) a listen because I saw they were touring with one of my favorites, Akron/Family, and thought "that's funny, I thought Akron/Family opening acts were always some sort of hare-krishna figure burning 80's electronics and throwing dead bird entrails at the audience", but no. It's Bad Weather California, a much more pleasing to sound I'm sure and somewhat akin to the A/F if you forced them to write radio friendly. Sunkissed is a great listen that, at points, sounds dangerously Velvet Underground and in others do their best Kinks impersonation.

Well here's something. Delving way outside the fold is an album of songs that apparently has been in the works for at least 15 years, if not in some form of creation since the early 1900's. Chassol (right) is a French dude, not much older than myself, who for years has worked his head around music by Stravinsky, Steve Reich, Qunincy Jones and learned to play harmonica. He's embraced dark movie house film scores, television soundtracks, commercial jingles and the sound of the entire bustling world. Pretty much taken everything he's heard since he was 17 and locked it away in a vault and waited til now for it to coalesce into one massive aural assault. Maybe that's why the cover of X-Pianos is him about open that vault. Boom. Still attempting to outdo their 1998 debut (aren't we all?), Air has released another collection of ambient French pop that's got a bit of a haunt on it. Some have called it a return to form after a couple of questionable recording choices, and some yet have culled it an imaginative soundtrack to film yet to be made. I'll just call it Le Voyage Dans La Lune. And to finish out the French section of writeup may be my favorite Parisian act of late, Rover. He's definitely got a little Bowie thing going on, but it's not too obvious or even flaunted, just ingrained. His self titled is a lovely ballad beast of an album, songs hiding in dark corners that courageous ears will be rewarded for their bravery.

For Peter Broderick's 11th album of modern classical folk music in under 4 years and the first one he chose not to focus his attention on any one style or instrument, he chose to embrace the modern world we live in and by that I mean piracy. Instead of fighting against the illegal download game he's chose to embrace it and set up the album online along with artwork and liner notes so that listeners can have the full experience now unknown to most mp4-ists who barely know song titles nonetheless the artwork that would normally accompany it. Albums is called http://www.itstartshear.com. Take a guess. I bet seeing Lars Daniellson live in his native Sweden in the dead of winter is an experience. When he begins to play his brand of warm and hazy chamber jazz as the snow collects on the window panes and the sun's been down since 2pm, the place overflowing with all natures of  burn wine. Man, I'd like to go. I got Liberetto in the meantime. In the vein of Jason Mraz, whereas lyrics pass thru the lips of the singer in Passenger like honey full of bee stings, but minus JM's acerbic sense of self worth, I found All The Little Lights a more than enjoyable listen, although I'll never admit to it in my local record shop. Radio ready tunes that only get better the more you listen, I can't help but think that Mike Rosenberg could be a national treasure in Australia by way of UK. Janice Graham Band (left) make me feel like we're starting all over again with the Arctic Monkeys, not only because they're from the same UK neighborhood, but because they are talented beyond their age. Old heads on young bodies, in place of AC's sharp teeth these boys bring a flare for the dramatic, including sound effects and a pretty wild stylizing and penchant for experimentation for the debut It's Not Me, not to mention the full time member who plays trumpet up front and damn effective. Better catch them soon before they befall the same fate as their older brethren.  

I love when side projects come out of the camps of a favorite band of mine. You really get to hear what part, if any, of the sound they can be held responsible for, giving you a better glimpse as to pieces of the whole. But for right now we are talking about Wymond Miles, guitarist for the Fresh & Onlys whose new solo album Earth Has Doors, I've been enjoying on a regular basis. The answer is, he's got a lot to do with it. A French highschool dropout named Stephanie Sokolinski moved to Paris. began acting and now has recorded an album under the name Soko (right). This puts her among the ranks of women like Milla Jovovich and Scarlett Johansson, who've been able to be taken sort of seriously with their forays into music making after being just a pretty face. I feel that Soko, being much less famous, will have more luck with her gentle guitar ballad songs of the trials and tribulations of being in your early 20's as the songs on I Thought I Was An Alien come across as quite personal and honest. No acting here. Who misses 80's industrial dance goth pop? I didn't until I heard TRST by Trust. Dark and savage and nasally and beautiful, I love when bands can encompass a sound that's half New Order & Bauhaus and half Never Ending Story soundtrack. And while sticking with an 80's darkwave vibe, here's a band, TOPS, that falls on the sweeter, more romantic side, if there is one. Where Tender Opposites suffers in recording quality it makes up for in style and swagger. The soft synths, whiny female vocals and lazy bass really give it the personality.  

Some sophomore efforts don't flourish as they might simply because the songs on them are not the songs that made up the debut that got them on the map. Tennis (left) had a tremendously popular set of tunes on their first album that came out just over a year ago, and whether it was a rush job on Young And Old or the dreaded curse of the followup, but not a single track stayed with me and the album was over before I could figure out why. Good but, eh. Put Your Back In 2 It seems to do just the opposite. I loved the gentle debut by Perfume Genius, but the follow-up, under a mist of political tug-o-war, seems to be un-fully realized. I get excited about the place he seems to be taking us, but when we stop a mile or so short of the Grand Canyon and he yells "We're here!" I can't help but be a little less impressed. Xiu Xiu have made a career out of penning tunes that put dread in your heart and noise in your ears, real messed up stuff is what I'm saying, but after the brilliance of their last album I can't help but feel Always falls a little short and dare I say be shocking just for shock's sake. And for a band that gets off on making ugly sound good, the new female vocalist sure sounds out of place, in a bad way. I was stressed out by 4, the new Sporto Kantes album. I kept wanting to shut it off and move on, and then they'd do something very interesting or lovely or even kind of awesome. I checked out the online profiles and saw that their music is self described as 'concrete'. For some reason that made sense. Then I saw that they were French. It all came together.

Also enjoyed new stuff from Of Montreal, Ryan Teague, Lambchop, Chuck Prophet, Water Liars, Kim Janssen, Shearwater, Human Tetris, Netherfriends, Vidar Vang, Bears, Kam Kama, Badly Drawn Boy, You Say France And I Whistle, Damien Jurado, Barna Howard, The Cranberries and fun (told you guys).

 

MARCH

As if I haven't gushed enough about Lost In The Trees on this blog already... soooo.. Normally I'm not one to really lose my mind over the emotionality of song lyrics or background of its authors. Normally I don't delve too deeply into song meaning and motivation or peer behind the green curtain, but something about A Church That its Our Needs hit me, like a brick in the face. Line after line of dreadful pain and storyline tragedy, intermingled within songs and melodies so soft and sweet then so vicious and contentious, the whole time giving you that feeling that no, everything is not alright. Faint hintings at families in turmoil, death and sickness, despair and a search for affirmation, and the music itself is flawless to boot. So, normally I'm numb, possibly ignorant to emotional outpourings, which makes this all the more evident that Ari Picker is going thru it, and thank God this is his therapy. I can't imagine this falling far from the very very top of my year end list, maybe for a few years to come. Now, for some reason, when your bandmate is your lifemate you put yourself into an exclusive category where the listener expects to hear more genuine emotion, being that you may actually have genuine feeling for the person you're making music with, and never have I been more touched by a such a duo as I have by the latest Bowerbirds (right). Their two previous albums I'm still lukewarm on, but The Clearing is full of woodsy folkrock, finding the loverbirds cooing about blankets by rivers, after mending fences, around bonfires in the woods. It's all my sort of thing. As the songs all start off stripped down, they take each wonderful tune in directions both stark and grandiose at unexpected length. Some of the finest moments in music I'm sure will hold out thru year's end and so on. Gotta go back and check out their first two albums again. I haven't really been in love with Andrew Bird since first hearing him back in his Mysterious Eggs phase. Such a new voice and sound,such a way with words and subject matter. Then he goes and takes his time, releasing a movie soundtrack in between full length albums and whadyaknow? Masterpiece. Break It Yourself is like meeting the pretty girl you loved in highschool years later, only she's prettier and ready to love you back. I don't have anyone specific in mind, it's a metaphor.

So what is going on over in Australia that they keep putting out these amazing psychedelic albums year after year. I'm still not over that Tame Impala record and now I get Pond's (left) (who share members) Beard Wives Denim. And the approach to the recording, it's like they're letting us hang out in their basement and jamming on awesome riffs that sound backwards and making it up as they go. Firing band members and recording chorus-less music with a funky hiphop beat-maker is what James Mercer has been up to the past five years. There was part of me that believed I'd heard the last of his "life-changing" band. But Port Of Morrow marks the fourth proper release from The Shins and a welcome refresher course, bringing an assured brightness to their back catalogue, if not their/his finest release, at least a fine addition to an already proven songwriter. White Rabbits could very well be the hippest band in the land. These surefire heirs to the Spoon throne had two stellar albums under their belts when Milk Famous hit the streets, mostly due to their raw vocals and the ability to play their guitars and piano like drums and have it sound so damn good. In my early opinion this is probably the weakest of the three releases they put out, due to its shaven surfaces and sanded edges, but it's most definitely an integral piece of what will become a cherished catalogue.

Being a pretty huge fan of any and all of the Madlib instrumentals, his production skills brought to Seeds is what is took to finally get me to listen to Georgia Anne Muldrow (right), a lady I've been hearing about, but never materialized into actually hearing her do her thing. And her thing, a very experimental sense of psychedelic neo-soul lathered over chops of hip-hop, is awesome. An incredibly distinctive voice and a very welcome new artist to the fold.And I think it's time I give La Sera her due and stop referring to her as the drummer to the Vivian Girls since I've now enjoyed two of her sweet 60's girl pop gone rogue albums way more than anything the VG ever did. La Sera Sees The Light, and so do we. Another band that embodies the sound of children discovering a secret closet full of musical instruments that they can miraculously play, despite any prior experience, is The Parlor. Sometimes adorable, sometimes haunting, sometimes raucous, sometimes all three simultaneously, Our Day In The Sun is a pretty strong debut of plinking piano, raspy guitar, and rattling drum and may just be a little deeper than a first listen would dictate. On repeat it seems clear that these tunes exude the very magic that would allow a band like this to exist.

Will Stratton tricked me. I thought we were going to hear another lovely album of autumn tracks to watch the leaves fall to, and that is how Post Empire starts off. Then the leaves start to change neon blues and purples and fall back up while the unexpected musical shifts bring a new electricity into the mix. Riffing off proven sounds from the past 5 or 6 years but maintaining a reflective individuality thru his lyrics, this one was an easy add. With an album cover that's underwater you know you're in for some reverb adventure, but the real draw with Ladylike Lily (left) is the way her childlike vocals are punctuated by the wise old lyrics that they're forming, whether it's around a solo guitar plinking or a full on tribal drum assault, Get Your Soul Washed does leave you feeling a little stripped of innocence while also hinting that you may still have some left. It was completely unexpected that I enjoy an album by the unfortunately named Kiss The Anus Of A Black Cat, but the more unfortunately name album,Weltuntergangsstimmung, is really a darkwave neofolk delight, if those words don't contradict each other too much. Doing his best Peter Murphy impression over evil synths, this puppy will be set aside for good Halloween time listening.

I've been coming around to Vijay Iyer's brand of jazz quite a bit in recent album releases and maybe that's due to his subtle fusion of rock and hip-hop ideas and sounds into his already finely tuned jazz piano trio. Like pandering to southerners about eating grits, Accelerando tickles all the right funny bones and acts as a perfect gateway for those ears more atuned to less jazzified music, plus any album that contains a cover of MJ's Human Nature automatically gets my seal of approval. With a moniker like Elfin Saddle (right) it's not hard to be mistaken for some God awful Led Zeppelin cover band, but that could not be further from the truth for this avant-folkies post-apocalyptic approach at music the world will make once nature has taken back the Earth. You get the sense from Devastates that a story is being told, with moments of beauty and repose, only to be interrupted by explosions of passionate aggression, battles of man vs. technology, nature vs. man, caveman covers if you will. It's an intriguing listen, but don't expect to come out the other end feeling better about it. Soul pioneer of 40 some-odd years, Lee Fields & The Expression released Faithful Man in March and is such a dynamic set of tunes in the vein of R&B greats like the Delfonics and James Brown. I've read reviews where people call it a modern soul masterpiece. I wouldn't know but I'll take their word.

A pronounced sense of spookiness engulfs Strange Grey Days, the proper debut by Chains Of Love. It's an ode to Phil Spector filtered thru 80's garage-punk girl band aesthetic and it works. Another one for the haunted holidays. Sporting possibly the sexiest little album cover yet this year, Love Connection's Euphoria reminds me a bit of hearing Broken Social Scene's 'You Forgot It In People' way back when, in the way that there is a discernible disinterest in traditional song structure or sensible obligatory build, and instead the couple simply finds a groove and goes with it, riffing where they deem fit and sparsely adding mostly unintelligible lyrics whose sole purpose is to simple add to the mass of sound they've already created. Really good. You feel like your listening to a classic at the first nine notes of the newest, long awaited Chromatics record. This feeling of timelessness is instantly renewed when the opening lyric "My my, Hey Hey, rock and roll is here to stay" is delivered in the most graceful and grave manners. What follows on Kill For Love is 17 tracks of some of the finest 90 minutes of music to come out this year, now I just have to figure out why? 

March was a strange month where I became obsessed with just a few recordings and the rest fell by the wayside, but the month also contained quality music released by Poor Moon, Backwords, Crushed Stars, Miike Snow, Odd Future Wolf Gang, Bruce Springsteen, Thee Satisfaction, Revolver, Ben Browning, Yeti Lane, The Choir Of Young Believers, Magnetic Fields, Franks & Walters, Cats On Fire, Lola Kite, And Also The Trees, Drowner, Zeus & Tanlines.



That's it for now, April's already done so, next one soon.

Heavy Tunes At The Red Fish

Laura and I have been to our fair share of live musical performances, ranging from sparse and enigmatic to swarming and raucous. Wednesday night was to be an altogether different experience however.

the entrance to Le Poisson Rouge

Searching some time now for a night worth our while, knowing that we don't get out on the town much nowadays, having baby and being lazy and all, it would take a lot for us to gather up our gear and hike that mountain. I instantly fell in love with the exerted vulnerability of the new Lost In The Trees album, sadness never sounded so amazing. I looked into it and found a little bar on Bleeker called Le Poisson Rouge was hosting them in just a couple weeks. New York City it was.

We got there early, but later than normal for us. A few beers at the bar, and quick scan of the restroom sitch (they got thrones!) and it seemed like the show was ready to begin. We headed up to a standing table where we met Brent. Let me tell you a little bit about Brent, because he did. Brent is 46 and from Vancouver. Today he went to the Mets game and bought a cap worn by Lucas Duda and a genuine baseball leather moneyclip which he took out and showed to us. He works for a hospitality company that handles the Olympics and he is excited about going over to London soon because it is in London where he met his future wife, Marjorie. He knows this because when someone's imperfections are what is attractive about them, then it's love, says Brent. This was all very nice conversation before, between and after show openers Poor Moon, who were also very nice. They had a great song with a killer whistle duet. Brent did not.

Before the headliners took to the stage I hit the thrones and grabbed a couple fresh drinks where I met Nick & Chris, a coupla dudes probably from Brooklyn or Jersey City who complimented me on my beard after which we bonded over love of Indian curry, Lake Wallenpaupack, and Atlanta's seminal venue of the early 2000s, the Drunken Unicorn. That ended after they ordered two Magic Hats and I ordered The Dietrich (rye whiskey, cherry liquer, Dubonnet Blanc, orange bitters and twist) and a Stella Artois. When I got back to our table Laura had filled Brent in on our entire life including but not limited to our sleeping habits, the address and combination of our storage unit, and our social security numbers. This was fine. Brent seemed nice. Anyone who claims to be in love with a girl named Marjorie can't be all that untrustworthy.

Then Lost In The Trees took the stage.

They took the stage to the Postal Service, which must've made me grimace because Laura asked if I was okay. That wasn't the vibe I was working on is all, but the good news is it was all uphill from there. Lost In The Trees was raw. Acoustic guitar, cello, drums, tuba, synthesizer, violin, bass, french horn, piano, raw. And it sounded great. A half a song in and the balance was struck in the booth and there was no looking back. The albums' operatic vocals and amazing strings that I could've sworn was electronics came shimmering thru and each song got tighter and grander than the last. The quiet moments you could hear a pin drop. The robust moments hung in the air and repeatedly dropped on your chest and ears. The crowd was extremely grateful, for a bunch of NYU students and SoHo yuppies, and the band was extremely humbled by it all, seemingly thrown to the wolves only to be coddled and adored instead of eaten alive. This lovefest went on throughout the set which only seemed to strengthen the band's tenacity, really putting it together and throwing it down for us on the final laps.

Highlights were the expected singles, Red & Golden Eyelids (before which lead singer Ari Picker admitted cautiously, "this song scares the hell out of me"). The rest of the new material was even more evocative live than on record, especially This Dead Bird Is Beautiful during which I may or may not have welled up (a lot), and older songs like Song For The Painter and a new killer rendition of Fireplace brought the house down and the arms up (and a boisterous soccer Dad-like "WOW!" from Brent). Knowing the inexplicably sad background of band leader Ari Picker, which seemed to be the overriding connection amongst the gawking crowd, made the night extremely heavy emotionally, knowing that was his motivation to build this awesome piece of music, knowing that was his mother on the cover of it all, hearing the shoutouts from the band members to their kids at home followed by vocals choking on teardrops, Lost In The Trees poured their hearts out to us and we put all our arms around them.

Good stuff.

Aural Quarterly: April-June 2011

Late again. It takes time to scribble these reviews down. Plus sometimes I forget. The music has taken such a backseat these days I fear that the end may soon come. Or at least a much watered down version of this article. That may be good tho because then maybe people can read it. Too long huh? Maybe I should adopt a simpler review tactic. (band/album name) - Nice or Not Nice. That might work. I'd use numbers but that's not very descriptive now is it? Or maybe I could just draw a picture. Do you like pictures?

APRIL

There's much to do about looping these days. One man bands live-looping riffs and a scant 45 seconds into a tune you've got 4 tracks for them to vocalize over. But no one does it like Tune-Yards (left). Anyone can loop-di-loop. Tune-Yards make a casserole. Coming to the surface on high profile tours the past couple years, WHOKILL is a much better representation of their live attempts at loop swooping, or so I'm told. On first listen you might think that O'Death was a wandering band of backwoods gypsies making noise on guitars with broken strings and banging pots and pans. The further along you get on Outside the more you realize that this is a masterful work of complex arrangement and structure performed by some dudes out of Brooklyn making noise on guitars with broken strings and banging pots and pans. Nine Types of Light is another fine fine album released by the energetic TV On The Radio, simultaneously defining their mainstream exposure with the release of a "Long Days Night"-style album movie and the untimely passing of their bassist. Let's see where it goes from here.

Heavy on instrumental passages, only adding vocals where absolutely necessary and full of curious chord progressions, High Llamas mark their 19th year of making music under the radar. Talahomi Way is a charming nylon-stringed record and perfect to soundtrack any late 60's film that highlights elongated transitions of lovers driving thru the Italian countryside in an Aston Martin. It's pleasant as hell. It's the haunting voice against the pacifying music that makes Timber Timbre (right) such an interesting group. Their last album was one of our favorites of a couple years ago, an early morning staple throughout fall mornings. The new album is darker and more experimental while entitled Creep On Creepin' On says they're not taking themselves too seriously. Low have been around forever. C'mon, I think, is their 11th album, but it's the first one I've listened to straight thru and it annoys me. Only because now I'm compelled to go back and listen to the other ten and I don't have that kinda time.

After having our ears blown out by the live show of Explosions In The Sky some years back, I've strayed away from their output, be it because I was scarred or had bigger fish to fry, either way. Take Care, Take Care, Take Care is obviously a reminder of what prompted us to want to go take on such a night of beautiful ear-splitting concussion and why Laura was dead set on one of their tunes being her "here comes the bride". The cellists weren't familiar with the tune. On Tomboy I feel that Panda Bear has collected bird calls and vocalized them into heavy sets of instrumentalized sound effects, tuned accordingly and lovingly to a glorious outcome. The mockingbird of the music world. Get three of your friends, grab some instruments and go nuts. That must've been the battle plan on the aptly named Do Whatever You Want All The Time, the new Ponytail (left) album. I can't say it isn't what I expected, after fully enjoying their debut a couple years back, and this time through the quick shifting time signatures, loosely coherent breakneck guitar noodles and the random whoops and girl hollers are in full display. I don't know that they necessarily built upon their previous work, but they sure seemed to exhaust every opportunity in just seven tracks.

Adding to the list of music I probably would never have listened to a year ago, Jay-Jay Johanson's (right) gentle swoons and smoky bar jazz pop on Spellbound is pleasant enough to play thru and quiet enough not to wake baby. It's funny how you cool to some artists. I was never a big fan of Smog, Bill Callahan's elder alias, but his last album is still one of my favorites to put on and drink a warm beer to. He entitled his latest Apocalypse, which could not be more misleading, but I guess, after hearing his past contributions to music, if he were to encite and apocalyptic event, this is what it would sound like. Best Armageddon ever! Someone may want to check in on Cass McCombs because after hearing the tunes on Wit's End I fear he may do something to inflit harm on himself. His songs have never been sun risers but damn brother, it's lovely and all, but I don't know if I can spin this again. I love cookie dough ice cream. I love Hawaiian pizza. The thought of those two coming together makes me vomit. I love Thao Nguyen & I love Mirah Yom Tov Zeitlyn but the combination of the two, thoughtfully entitled Thao & Mirah, sounds like Hawaiian cookie dough pizza would taste.

MAY

Oh the ever-changing musical stylings of My Morning Jacket, held together by the glue of the angeli-voiced Jim James. Once a southern jam band, now a international poprock machine, Circuital is just another rung in the ladder. EMA was an unexpected gem. Known to her friends as Erika Anderson and the former member of such classic noise rock bands like Gowns, I gotta say, the attempt at experimental pop on Past Life Martyred Saints is surprisingly coherent and I ended up enjoying more tracks than I had expected to. Rounding out the weirdo groups and garnering more mixtape fodder, Gang Gang Dance (left), the band that if you met in a dark alley, you'd run, until you heard them play, then you'd run faster. Eye Contact is maybe their prettiest album to date, but that was probably an accident. Poppier than ever before, but the otherworldly and twinkling sound effects remind us where they came from.

Winning the award for most interesting collaboration is Cat's Eyes (right), taking spook-rock frontman from Britain's The Horrors and a Canadian opera singer and attempting to make cohesive music. And I'll be damned it works. Apparently the sum of those two parts equals ambient Phil Spector chillwave. Hoo-gah! Taking what worked on their debut and expanding the repertoire, Fleet Foxes don't necessarily improve upon their modern CSNY with Helplessness Blues but they started off pretty strong to begin with so.... Still one of the hardest bands to pin down is White Denim, but since I'm not one who feels the need to label all the stripes on my shirt I can sit back and enjoy their utterly enjoyable exploration of the song. Rattling drums and winging guitars, a few surprise sounds, all applied to indetermined time signatures and a free for all approach on D is alright with me.

Winning album cover of the year so far is Celebration, Florida by Felice Brothers, another chance listen I took despite the obnoxious Americana tag placed on all their reviews (including this one) but man did I enjoy more than just a few of these aggressive, timely and relevant tunes with great lyricism and clean musicianship. Man Man (left) is an acquired taste kind of how swinging from tree branches is an acquired mode of transportation, but seven years into the game they may have taken their garbage and toy orchestra and figured out how to appeal to the masses. Listen to Life Fantastic and see. One of the most anticipated albums for me this year is the new Wild Beasts, Smother, but I have been less than blown over. They definitely continue to inhabit their own niche of dark and quirky soft rock, along with that sexy syncopated high tom, but the hooks haven't made themselves clear yet. The previous release still has theirs deep in me. Give it time.

What is it about these lo-fi garage freaks coming into a right all their own this year? Thee Oh Sees (right) captured my interest with another contender for album art of the year and ramshackled their way thru Castlemania, 16 tunes of wishy wash backyard band glory. On the other side of the production booth there's the debut by Foster The People simply called Torches. Dance tune after quality dance tune, one crisper than the last, each invoking a sing-a-long chorus where it's wholly evident that knowing the lyrics is not a requirement. Then somewhere in the middle we have The Antlers. Maybe the most emotional band in this article, when they sing "I Don't Want Love" you kind of believe them. There are some light moments on Burst Apart, a quality collection of tunes, but in the end, I wouldn't play any of these tunes at a family barbecue.

The figurehead of the most influential underground band of the 80's and grandfather of experimental rock music, Thurston Moore (left) has been releasing music outside of Sonic Youth for over a decade, and tho I haven't heard it all, I'm betting this is his most gentle and introspective work, and while Demolished Thoughts doesn't have the gouging qualities he's so well known for, it's still an integral piece of the puzzle. Setting the tone early and often is the game for hometown heroes Bill Wells & Aidan Moffat. Everything's Getting Older is the kind of album you spin on your deathbed playing like a musical journal of a life at it's end and voiced over by a Scottish pianist, and you cry. There's lots to do over the new Okkervil River, a band that I do and have loved in the recent past. I Am Very Far is exactly what I am from getting on the love train. Next.

Oh and the new Architecture In Helsinki, Moments Bends, stinks.

JUNE

From the first vibration of notes on the new self titled Bon Iver (right) album I knew that I had a new entry for album of the year contender. This guy has been a workhorse the past few years, writing in numerous thrown together one-offs (Gayngs & Volcano Choir), a split 7" with Peter Gabriel and performing Duke Ellington songs with his highschool jazz band. The more I listen to the majestic tunes on this album, the more I love it. Look out now. Laura & I saw Unknown Mortal Orchestra open for Smith Westerns back in April or something and boy were they delightful. Had we known more of their tunes we might have enjoyed them more than the headliners we came to see. The only potential downside of their self titled debut is the lo-fi nature, which guys I know is the hip approach, not to mention cost-effective, but they sounded better than this at their live show. Still, quality tunes are quality tunes and I haven't heard better guitar riffs this year. When I heard that Battles lost their effervescent frontman Tyondai Braxton I was more than a little concerned with my ability to adore their new album as I had their last, but after a few internet viewings of live performances and more than a few listens to Gloss Drop, it's clear that #1- this is a band to best enjoy live, and #2- there ain't nothing like them.

Patrick Wolf is a weird dude. I was hesitant to even give the new release Lupercalia a listen after being supremely disappointed with his last album but, whether it was the mood I was in or the new album is just that good. I was tapping my foot and singing along on the choruses second time around. It's that kind of album. The guy/girl thing is cute. It's even cuter when they're married. But The Rosebuds got to show everyone what the guy/girl thing sounds like after they've divorced. A Noble attempt to say the least and proving that amicable departure is possible, Loud Planes Fly Low address the sadness of love lost, but also the hope in a new life that still lies ahead. Heavy. I wish I had taken an evening back when I lived in Atlanta to go see the Black Lips (left) whose local shows are now something of garage rock folklore. And like any aging rock band (the members are late 20's but the band's been around since 1992) who created a subculture of flower punk amongst a world of grime and hiphop, they must disperse or be regarded. Arabia Mountain, to someone admittedly unfamiliar with 80% of their catalog, sounds terrifically frantic and masterfully bombastic. I can't think of better poster children for a genre that's all too dismissed.

It's always nice to discover a new band that you feel immediate affection towards. The name 1,2,3 imply simplicity, but the music itself is anything but. Continuous surprises and an overall flow beginning to end that is astonishingly absent within most releases nowadays, New Heaven made the list after first listen. There's been a lot of early contenders for greatest album art, but you're more likely to prevail if the content meets the cover as is the case for Ty Segall (right). Trudging through ten dirgy pop songs, jangling his guitar and rattling his drums, Goodbye Bread is like a sad hound of a gem. I fell in love with Woods (the band, not the actual woods) back in 2007 on an off chance listen to a strange album that appeared in my mailbox with a cover depicted a lamp and an owl statue on a desk next to an old microphone and then listened to the creepy folk music on the disc. Their frequent releases have made it hard to keep up with the output but Sun And Shade were getting them quite a bit of attention from psychedelic folk folks so I came back around. Oh how I missed them.

Some ghosts got together and started a beach pop outfit, they'd be Cults (left) and they'd name their album Cults and they would garner a cult following on the internet, of ghosts. Did the 80's cult classic My Science Project ever get a proper soundtrack release? No? Well Ford & Lopatin have put together a collection of dark synth-y sweet nuggets that could serve just that purpose. Channel Pressure: Easy on the fringe Kojak. Cassettes Won't Listen is a name I keep seeing at the end of remix tracks in parenthesis. Then I came across an album called Evinspacey by them/him and thoroughly enjoyed each and every track. Slick electronic tracks with clean, simple sampling and backseat vocals that create such a pleasant listen.

One of my favorite bands is Minus Story. I think they broke up tho, because this Hospital Ships album is a solo endeavor by their frontman and it has Minus Story written all over it. Lots of great ideas on Lonely Twin but it lacks the wild gang of fellow musicians that gave MS such draw. Still good tho. Givers was a surprise like. A group of kids in the verge just happy to be in the game. Can't help but smile and bob your head thru In Light, as they trade boy and girls vocals and the guitar skitter along, and every chorus should have maracas. One of the finest true folk bands out there is Vetiver and they've put a new album this year called The Errant Charm. It's deep. It's pleasant. They'll keep churning out top shelf campfire tunes as long s we let 'em. If rickety jazzbot drumming and dreamy plunk guitar and raspy desperate shouting vocals are your thing then you should pick up the new album Go Tell Fire To The Mountain by Wu Lyf (right). It's mine and I did.

Aural Quarterly: January-March 2011

It's been a challenge, what between the diminishing time spent driving alone and the little one's need to be entertained by televised sing-alongs the audio equivalent of nails on a chalkboard, but I've managed to squeeze in a bushel full of good tunes in between quiet moments, either in the early morning hours while the household still sleeps or while Yuula's attentions are drawn more towards her toy collection. I make it work. You knew I would.

JANUARY

Every year sees a new muse, a go-to album that creates the perfect mood while the sun rises, or sets, a perfect background to every whistling tea kettle and sizzling egg, an album added to a very exclusive playlist, and this year it is Grown Unknown by Lia Ices (left). Angel voice over settling instrumental, the line is drawn early and deep. Anna Calvi draws on the opposite side of girl named albums, venturing more into the seductive and smokey-bar side of the spectrum but to no less acclaim. Where Lia navigates the hushed ballad that floats into space, Anna squirms thru a love-torn rock opera and placing the music in your lap, forcing you to deal with it. But there has to be some bright side, greener grass to peruse and that's where Jenn Grant dropped Honeymoon Punch. Too happy to be genuine and too rocking to be cute, a chick trifecta has been established. And while we're going by name only, James Vincent McMorrow began a pattern of my "surprise likes". By that I mean that in the past, an album like his would have been abruptly passed over for it's inability to swoon me in its absence of the ethereal or immediacy. But in the early quiet hours I spoke of, Early in The Morning framed some perfect mornings of lamplit peace and seemed to rise with the sun.

Amidst a sea of female voices that dominated the early months, the Smith Westerns (right) brought a much-praised take on mid-70's guitar twang, dipped lightly into Bowie-isms and topped quite nicely with irresistible pop choruses that could only be forged by humble youngens. Dye It Blonde made us by tickets to see our first concert in years. Enveloping a more 80's soft rock/jazz sound, complete with synth and sax breakdown, Destroyer composes yet another masterpiece for his arsenal, Kaputt is once again treading ground most are either afraid or unable to, with tracks designed to slowly wrap its sparkling fingers around you til your locked into a web of complex sound, and you love it. Loud and brash has been the way of British Sea Power since their debut so I would expect nothing less on Valhalla Dancehall, a welcome return to fire-breathy yelping and amphitheater-sized lazer guitar tracks that hook in a bob along.

There's a thin line between radio drivel and a worthwhile listen and on their new album, Mine Is Yours, the Cold War Kids (left) walk that line superbly. To me these guys have represented a bohemian meets modern beatnik lifestyle in their music, always seeming to be spontaneously grasping at melody and lyrics as the tunes develop around them. It's probably quite difficult to give such an off-the-cuff allusion. But they seemed to have polished up a bit, maybe rented a rehearsal space and this time are coming off more Killers than Kerouac. But I wouldn't fault them for that. The song writing is undoubtedly there, developed from beginning to end instead of chorus to chorus and man can Nathan Willet belt out a tune. Remember Cake? They are still turning them out. Showroom Of Compassion exhibits their barmy charm and legitimizes their brand of quirky alternative country, a term I loathe but have to agree, fits Cake well.

Now if you wanna talk stellar album openers we will talk Kiss Each Other Clean by my personal beard hero Iron & Wine (right). But if you wanna talk comeback album that may as well have started over fresh we will talk There Are Rules by the Get Up Kids. And if you wanna talk sweet and catchy tunes we will talk People Problems by Oh No Oh My. But if you wanna talk Spanish soft rock ballads we will talk Superluv by Remate. And if you wanna talk warbly kicking tunes we will talk Outside by Tapes 'N Tapes.

A husband and wife duo named Tennis come across as a twee-ish spazz fest, but upon further listens the tunes on Cape Dory are simple only in their presentation and may foretell of a greater future in bouncy dance rock. Laura's new favorite band of the year is aptly named (left) Braids, as in I don't know how to braid as much as I don't know how these cats come up with the sugarpop-perfect, experimentally delicious and tribal-bounce tunes they do on Native Speaker. They are Canadian so... it is expected.

A good instrumental album is not hard to come by, but one as diverse yet utilitarian as Monster Rally's latest and first full length, is. Coral is the ultimate mixtape fodder as each tiny track may seem insignificant as a whole but become essential as singular tracks amidst a random collection, the double spacing between paragraphs of a term paper. Together We Step: Is it a drone album with Latin tendencies? Is it tropicalia run on the wrong rpm? Whatever it is, I set Está Vivo aside for the summer, now that I have a sunroof and all. Another album I've set aside for heavy summer listening is Arcade Dynamics by Ducktails (right), a name that instantly takes me to a time of afterschool obsession, but sounds more like Scrooge McDuck joined a lo-fi, neo-psychedelia chillwave band that experiments in ambient pop tunes perfect for swimming in pools of money. Not since I was in highschool have I listened to such bold & blasted pop-punk as the finally here self-titled Cloud Nothings debut. They were just too catchy to resist.

I gotta be honest, I haven't taken a good listen to the new Deerhoof (left). albeit for one track that is up for track of the year, but isn't that the way Deerhoof does it? Deerhoof Vs Evil is yet another collection of challenging tunes, to play, to hear, to love, but love is the ultimate goal after all. Branching out from his many groups is an interesting instrumental attempt by Phil Manley. The songs on Life Coach range from goofy electronic dawdles too seriously dark and lovely slips and slides along the neck of a guitar no matter what it's plugged in to. Fujiya & Miyagi are a band I've managed to ignore for a couple years now but their latest, awkwardly titled Ventriloquizzing has me interested enough to go back and discover a few more tracks of dark electronic dance tunes, even if it isn't my genre of choice. The Decemberists made another album too. The King Is Dead is good. That is all.

FEBRUARY

I immediately knew I'd love Too Beautiful To Work by The Luyas (right), not because I feel it encompasses my life's mantra, but because opening track shines a light in your eyes and doesn't let you look away for 37 sweet and freaky minutes. The presence of girly vocals, weird-o synths, just enough percussion and gentle affected horns has me coming back for multiple repeat listens, just to find out how they did that. The Low Anthem was a borderline breakthrough, not expecting the sound coming from their mouths by the look of the cover or the write up in a magazine. What I heard was meant to be much more treasured and lauded over, a real contender for album of the year, or at least gut wrencher of the year in the closer on Smart Flesh. A new album by aural explorists Akron/Family is always something to get excited over and while I haven't fallen in love with The Cosmic Birth And Journey Of Shinju TNT like I have so many of their others, the songs are no less valuable. Maybe just less revolutionary, but anyone who reinvents the wheel too many times always ends up rolling downhill.

Let's get foreign. Cut Copy is from Australia, so you can bet anything that makes it this far around the world is worth a listen. Zonoscope is a dance happy synth record that would fit snugly between some OMD & Yaz. Glasgow's answer-before-the-question to Explosions in The Sky, Mogwai, have been testing the unfriendly waters of guitar heavy instrumentals, epic odes to skylines and city lights in super fast motion. Hardcore Will Never Die, But You Will takes an unexpectedly lighter approach to the whole process while still managing to burn you face to bone. Lukestar (left) is from Norway, and finally after three releases I checked out Taiga. Driving dual guitars, power bass and slappy drums all reinforce the falsetto of an Oslo angel and make for a surprisingly abrupt party album.

Oscillate Wisely is good advice for any situation but Mike Adams At His Honest Weight brings to us a dreamy collection of groovy, slow pop tracks with heartfelt lyrics and a sense of sincerity that is becoming far too absent in music. La Sera (right) is the sexier third of Vivian Girls, a garage rock trio, but Kickball Katy's eponymous branching is less frigid and riff-laden and more honeyed beach-mospherics, a term I've coined to give a handful of new artists making modern day Gidget soundtracks. Hook after hook is the game plan for Tristen or her second release, Charlatans At The Garden Gate. Combine 60's throwbacks with witty lyrics and a shining plug from NPR and you've got a good idea what you're dealing with here.

Resigning herself to the darker corners of the music world PJ Harvey (left) pokes her head out of the murky depths and gives us Let England Shake, a grand exclamation with grander content, dealing with all the world's woes and wars and wrapping it into a xylophony package. Up until now I had thought of DeVotchka as a one trick pony, but their latest collection of powerful chamber folk ballads are really quite good. 100 Lovers does return to its How It Ends hook, even briefly and in theory, but when you're wearing a edgy new shirt it's best to have your comfy jeans on. I was forced to listen to Yuck, the new album by Yuck, mainly because they are the openers for a concert we're going to later this month and I thought it'd be more enjoyable if I knew a couple tunes and could maybe sing along. This is a time capsule, from inception to creation to production, giving me the early 90's college vibe, if I'd've gone to college in the 90's, or at all.

Never knowing what to expect from Six Organs Of Admittance (right) is part of the reason to go and listen to to their albums when they come out. The other reason to listen to them, in the case of Asleep On The Floodplain is to weigh in on some heavy handed acoustic guitar ruminations. Searching a similar plain of soundwaves is Julianne Barwick on her new album The Magic Place. The music here seems to be listener versatile as to apply it to your own magic place and perhaps enhance ones own magical experience... I had to keep checking if this album was still playing or if I was dead. As far as electronic instrumentals go Near The Parenthesis is currently at the top of my game, as I find I'm always looking for similar characteristics no matter who I'm listening to. My needs don't evolve so the music needs to revolve, and for now Japanese For Beginners fits in the space.

The pixie speckled cover of Elk's bedroom project Let's Get Married does not prepare you for the enormity of it's scope. Beach Boys make Afropop music, the Weather Girls meets Philip Glass, it's all over the map but sign me up for this roadtrip. A spastically enjoyable sampling of what I hope keeps on coming. Little Wings has been lurking on the outskirts of my PacWest musical endeavors, but in lieu of his couterparts recent lack of material, I gave Black Grass my full attention and felt shamed for falling for the prettiest girl in the class when her friend turned out to be the one who'd've given me the lasting and meaningful relationship. No Witch is the good old American folk rock record The Cave Singers (left) put out this year. I like it best of all their spawn, seeing as how they beefed up the arrangements and explored as many, if not all of the possibilities a single solitary tune could take you and I like that.

What music collection is complete without a little French Canadian piano pop power rock? None I tell ya, and since the cryptic bandname of Who Are You caught my attention I give you Breizh. Good stuff. Cyanide Sisters is an intriguing electronic record by a band whose silly name of Com Truise hides the fact that they have some seriously good slow buzzing burners here. Soaring, swirling psychedelic dream-pop atmospherics on Daydreamer, an album by Youngteam highlights floating harmonies and celestial shoegaze guitar soundscapes like early 90's college radio. A leader of the chillwave evolution Toro Y Moi (right) splices and filets his way thru Underneath The Pine. All this sonic exploration can really make a fellow feel light headed. Then we have Magnus Moriarty™, a young Norwegian with some relatively amusing pop songs to dole out over the course of Kodachromerockopera.

MARCH

New Radiohead album called King Of Limbs. Enough said there. Attempting to follow up a masterpiece is never easy, but Elbow show respectfully with Build A Rocket Boys and prove not only do they never disappoint but hold strong against impossible odds. Yuula really dug the new Dodos (left) album which proved to be a savior one frustrating afternoon. The most unlikely dance tunes on No Color really shine while Dodos don't exactly tread new ground, for them anyhow, and stick to their guns that proved so effective in the past.

Highly criticized and unfairly dissected, The Strokes (right) seemed to have finally lost interest in pleasing the masses. Angles is a lazy album, in comparison to their earlier output, but that's not to say it's any less genuine or any less terrific. It's the Strokes album that you can relax to, use as background music without the fear that a hipster gathering may occur at any moment. Denying the whistle ever existed Peter Bjorn And John make their catchiest record yet, which is astonishing considering their past releases. Gimme Some is another unexpected dance album, but I may be looking to apply the tag at the slightest twitch of a shoulder. If you ask them, R.E.M. will tell you Collapse Into Now is their "best record yet", just like they did for their past 14 releases, but let's not get crazy. Breaking the band's history into pre and post Bill Berry departure, this ranks amongst the better of the latter but may have just become a b-side collection of the former. That was confusing.

The dark, dark meditations of Mirel Wagner (left) are not for the faint of heart. Filling out an open space in the voodoo blues of 1920's Mississippi Riverside and graveyards, it's an astonishingly touching piece of work, the strangest fact of which is that it comes from the shores of Finland. I don't think I'll hear a more strangely likable album than The Sandwitches Mrs. Jones' Cookies. Awkward hoots and hollers, un-tuned guitars (to say detuned would connotate intent), overly dramatic vocals, sparse drumming all come together to make a curious little nugget that seems to morph from song to song, while maintaining a consistency that makes you wonder... why? Paris Suit Yourself play play post-punk-New-Orleans-hip-hop-chanson-indie-rock-Manu Chao-biker-metal-African-free-jazz-harmony-pop. Sounds good to me. My Main Shitstain is a rude, belligerent, ridiculous and ultimately brilliant debut from some British scene veterans who were in the right time at the right place.

Filling my African-blues, French based Burkina Faso native duo quota, Abdoulaye Traore & Mohamed Diaby fuse some Andalusian rhythms with Afro-Latin influences to critical acclaim, or moderate refrain. There's some sparkling moments on Debademba, but I'm gonna need to familiarize myself a tad more before I can say we're as close as Ali & Toumani. But as for the laid back, stoner/krautrock psyechedlia moments of early 2011 I looked to Eternal Tapestry and their first official full length Beyond The 4th Door. Five elongated tracks, that may as well be one long one, perfect for sunset, sunrises and sun implosions. And while we're on bands that envelop their very own realm of sonic exclusion, Grails (right). Dark instrumental epics with Middle Eastern influences seem to be in full experimental display, and with a string of successful sessions preceding it, Deep Politics is an impressive landing strip in an overgrown jungle of an unmarked territory. Got that?

Tim Cohen (left) is the lead singer of one of my favorite finds of 2010 The Fresh & Onlys. He reaches out on his own with Magic Trick and shows he's got more to say than any one band can handle. Early rock feels mixed with clever lyricism at such a prolific pace is something to behold. Another "surprise like" this year has got to be the Danish pedal steel of Maggie Björklund. Coming Home is a tender recording of songs that make me wanna ride a donkey thru the desert drinking the beads of sweat that roll off my forehead, on purpose. One of the most prolific artists on our time is Mountain Goats. Heavy on the clever and spastic on the folk, I can't separate All Eternals Deck from any of their previous work, so that's good.

In the wake of mega-giant record labels crash and burn, artists denied access to the to the VIP rooms can thank their lucky stars they were able to flourish and evolve in the their own right, instead of turning into homogenized muck. Enter Kurt Vile. I highly recommend his moody-yet intensely uplifting album called Smoke Ring For My Halo, full of reposed introspection that we almost never heard. This dude I went to school with has a record label of pretty crazy yet talented musicians churning out improv tunes full of guitar experimentation, drums dropping down escalator shafts and bass clarinets rocking like Hendrix. 100% Intense is one of those releases by Intense Men. It's intense. If you watch TV you've heard Bibio (right), probably more than once. Most easily paraphrased as folktronica, Mind Bokeh starts off strong, flounders, and comes out the other end with a bronze medal. Maybe he was thinking too hard about soundtracking the next Kindle commercial.

Mixing so many of the elements found successful in today's frontrunning community That Ghost comes off like a market research focus group with the thermostat set on 95 and candy bowls full of alpha blockers, but that's how people came up with the Take5 candy bar. Songs Out Here is delicious too. Starfucker (left) quicken the pulse a touch at first, but anyone with a heart condition is advised to leave the room by track 4, cause they ain't coming down. Reptilians is a glorious gathering of cheery spaced out pop tunes I can't wait to dance to in the yard come June. A trend I'm seeing the past few years is bands trying to score 80's films, but not good films with Ringwald, McCarthy or one of the Corey's but one of those horrible ones, therefore making the music the only reason you'd pay to see the film. I'd pay the $2.94 it cost in 1982 to see Craft Spells Idle Labor.


Already to work on April.