Pop 'stache

In the world of vocalists, there are jukeboxes and there are composers.

Julia Holter‘s vocals are the centerpiece in her music, though as a multi-instrumentalist, she is able to guide the music through her world of melodies and noises by playing most of it herself. Each world of Holter’s is potent and idiosyncratic, which leaves no real certain sound to her music, only a patchwork of feelings.

Loud City Song, Holter’s third LP, begins on a quiet note with “World.” A minimalist swirl of Holter’s somber voice walks amidst orchestral swells, harpsichord plucks, and soft vocal backings. Each section is a minimalist swirl, which slowly deteriorates into silence.

The final silence of “World” is broken by the shimmering cymbals of “Maxim I.” Distant sounding music bubbles up from those glittering cymbals and Holter’s beautiful voice is framed on either side by soft violin sections.

Julia Holter’s music is calm and collected. Every little sound is gracefully choreographed around the vocal imaginings of her mind. Each decision in the movement of the music is eloquent and pointed.

Loud City Song is an anthem of texture, and it’s not just Holter’s voice that creates this. Enveloped within each song are samples and little bits of noise that accent turns and passages. Crinkles of paper and muddied footsteps lead into soft electronic tones, and Holter whispers inaudibly on “Horns Surrounding Me.” From these sounds arises a brass section, which crackles like it’s being played through a Dictaphone. The synth-poppish chorus also has jazzy textures when dissonant notes are sung and then smoothly resolved.

Those jazz leanings appear often on Loud City Song. The track “In the Green Wild” primarily features the raw plucking of a stand-up bass. Her voice is halfway between spoken word and sultry jazz singing, and explains a tree’s confusion at the sound of a woman’s voice.

These ethereal songs have such life to them that they could almost be played out in some futuristic, avante-garde theatre piece.

The scenes would tell of the disillusion of triumph in “Maxims II,” where horns build into cacophony and two chaotic saxophones shout in some musical argument. The slow trickling out of phrases on a piano would tell of the wandering mind of a lover on the song “He’s Running Through My Eyes.” This lost lover comes back to center in the following song, “This Is a True Heart,” where lounge music plays over Holter’s musing, all while jazz flutes, violins, and saxophones dance playfully around.

Loud City Song is a sensual and diverse swath of thoughtful music and concise textures. It’s a beautiful record, and almost anyone can find something relatable within it. Beyond this, it is still musicians’ music, and a close ear will reveal a series of perfect decisions and a subtle approach that gives Julia Holter’s music a higher dimension.

Julia Holter – Loud City Song tracklist:

1. “World”
2. “Maxims I”
3. “Horns Surrounding Me”
4. “In the Green Wild”
5. “Hello Stranger”
6. “Maxims II”
7. “He’s Running Through My Eyes”
8. “This Is a True Heart”
9. “City Appearing”

Since his first mixtape in 2010, Odd Future member Earl Sweatshirt has been a little mystery in hip hop. He took a mother-induced hiatus to Samoa following the mixtape and three years later, he has released his first studio album, Doris.

The album is full of sinister beats that Earl sleepily raps over. Sonically, Doris is one of the most interesting hip hop albums released this year; all of the hype and anticipation was well deserved.

Each beat is a satisfying kind of frumpy. They have a tendency to be melodically jagged because of the way each sound or instrument is layered onto the others to create the final mix. The snare drum on “Burgundy” disrupts the rhythm in a way that affects the rest of the melody, putting accents in unexpected places. “Hoarse” opens with music similar to an old Western film, but as Earl raps, the accents in the beat change.

Earl produced eight of his 15 tracks under the name randomblackdude, and his beat production is a carefully crafted awkwardness. The beats are surprising and dope. Each track, despite that degree of dysfunction, is somehow also very clean, and it is very fitting for Earl’s rapping style this his production is deliciously atypical.

One of the darker beats on Doris is featured on “Centurion.” It is the creepiest, most malicious-sounding track. It features Vince Staples, whose voice is echoed deeply in the background. A completely different melody kicks in as Earl raps, “Vinny Stape, they stupid, think the city safe/Until that little bindi placed, headshots, red dot/Block as hot as Denny plates.” This is perhaps Earl’s most cynical moment on Doris. “Centurion” then flows beautifully into the instrumental track “523.”

On this release, Earl strays away from his history of lyrics about rape and violence. He’s clearly rapping from a self-reflective space. “Chum” is an intimate glimpse into his thoughts, with the clever line, “Get up off the pavement, dust the dirt up off my psyche,” in the hook.

“Burgundy” is about the creation of Doris and Earl’s relative fame. A voiceover, presumably Earl’s imitation of a manager or record producer, says on the track, “Hey Thebe, nigga, what’s up nigga? I heard you back, I need them raps, nigga. I need the verse, I don’t care about what you going through or what you gotta do nigga, I need bars, sixteen of ’em.” Earl addresses the pressure of what is expected of him, even using his actual name, Thebe. Because “Burgundy” is only the second track on Doris, it plants certain thoughts about the rest of the album. He was indeed going through some things, though, and these aren’t BS raps he spat out for the sake of producing an album.

As Earl steps into introspective territory, he distances himself from some of his Odd Future affiliates. While they still make appearances on Doris, he is making a distinction between himself and those who blew up before he did, especially Tyler, The Creator.

Even though Tyler appears on the tracks “Whoa” and “Sasquatch,” and Frank Ocean spits (not sings!) incredibly dope verses on “Sunday,” this album is truly Earl’s debut and a breakaway from Odd Future.

His lyrics and delivery are part of what makes Doris so intriguing. Earl drones with intermittent moments of power in his voice. He spits sleepily, waking up just enough to give force to a particular moment, only to doze off again.

His lyrics are at the heart of the album. The marriage between his raps and the beats is glorious; the production suits Earl’s flow, which tends to be a slew of rhymes and references that make it feel as though he is rapping his stream of consciousness. On “Whoa,” Earl raps about his raps: “Gooey writtens, scoot ’em to a ditch, chewed and booty scented/Too pretentious, do pretend like he could lose with spitting/Steaming tubes of poop and twisted doobies full of euphemisms/Stupid, thought it up, jot it quick, thaw it out/Toss it right back like a vodka fifth.”

Earl Sweatshirt’s Doris is truly the step into his psyche that many have been waiting for, while using intriguing beats that disorient listeners. There’s never a chance to comfortably settle into the album, but Earl’s flow leads the way.

Earl Sweatshirt – Doris tracklist:

1. “Pre (feat. SK La’Fare) “
2. “Burgundy”
3. “20 Wave Caps”
4. “Sunday (feat. Frank Ocean)”
5. “Hive (feat. Vinny Staples and Casey Veggies)”
6. “Chum”
7. “Sasquatch (feat. Tyler, The Creator)”
8. “Centurion (feat. Vinny Staples)”
9. “523”
10. “Uncle Al”
11. “Guild (feat. Mac Miller)”
12. “Molasses (feat. RZA)”
13. “Hoarse”
14. “Knight (feat. Domo Genesis”

“Kinda bummed all my fun shit broke/My heart, my spirit, my art, my toes.” – K. Flay, “Hail Mary”

Female rappers are only recently storming the hip hop stage in a grimy wave of post-’90s freestyle flow. The feisty confidence of Nicki Minaj, Jean Grae, and Azealia Banks made way for the recognition of underground acts such as Invincible, Gavlyn, and Rapsody. Ladies are stepping up their lyrical game and production collaborations, revealing a doubly enticing lineup of duel gender verses and unified charisma.

What If It Is marks the third EP for K.Flay, but her first under RCA label and mass visibility. What If demonstrates just how good of a rapper the 28-year-old Stanford grad is, to an audience finally large enough to effect appropriate media attention.

K.Flay, born Kristine Flaherty, began writing songs on a whim while in college and shortly after started creating beats and backdrops. What If It Is contains entertaining insight into the headspace of K.Flay, mixing the expression of deeper thoughts with fun and on-point wordplay.

The EP’s productions are full of pop and grime and optimum templates for K.Flay’s animated rapping style—she flows fast and with intonations not unlike the sassy attitudes of Lady Sovereign and Angel Haze.

“Rawks” opens the EP with a grimy glitch beat and K.Flay’s deceptively sweet overlay on her sassy lyrical declarations. It’s a track circling with non-thematic lines, amounting in individual assertions rather than one cumulative message. It’s a K.Flay style sampler with unstoppable energy, enthralling from the first verse: “Whiskey tipsy keep on slipping don’t know which end of the bed I’m on/Calories, Valeries in malls smoking on Cali weed/How can you complain when you’ve made up all your realities?”

Growing up on Chicago’s affluent Northside, her upfront no-cred suburbanite status is humorously scattered throughout. On “Rawks,” she raps, “Got no direction someone summon Nora Ephron/Beer pong’s how I learned the capital of Lebanon.”

On “So What,” K.Flay explains her fear of commitment and the reasons for her maintenance of casual relationships: “So I’m wallowing all alone following monotone/Voices that keep hollering inside my fucking collar bone/Nobody catching me, living like I’m 17/Pay no mind I’ll just be masterminding my own tragedies.” Her rhymes are scrupulous and her themes generally relatable, echoing the unswerving effects of watching your parents split up at a young age.

Danny Brown’s guest verse on “Hail Mary” adds to K.Flay’s party persona, sardonically pleading for forgiveness for their sacrilegious raging jaunts. It’s a shallow song, an “I don’t give a fuck” right of passage for rappers seeking even the most basic cred from their industry peers.

Her sweet whispers juxtapose the lyrics, “It was sweet of you to take me out to brunch/But now my jeans are on your ottoman and I’m about to run.”

“The Cops” is a somberly sung balled about K.Flay’s unreciprocated love, a writing process she later noted as a hugely therapeutic part of moving on from a destructive situation. It concludes the EP with one giant chorus, a consistent element that will help to push K.Flay’s career to radio stations and festival stage headlining slots with eventual the release of her first full-length album.

She’s not just a passing talent; her intelligent sass and fighting words flow with pronounced fluctuations, promoted by beats that sound like hip hop and indie rock fused together with K.Flay’s grungy mental veracity. Affluent truths look good on this self-proclaimed Suburban Rap Queen.

K.Flay – What If It Is EP tracklist:

1. “Rawks”
2. “Hail Mary (feat. Danny Brown)”
3. “Starfvcker”
4. “So What”
5. “The Cops”

Rookie of the Year’s fifth album, Canova Presents: The Goodnight Moon Part II, is a sequel to the 2006 album The Goodnight Moon. Rookie of the Year’s independent release is full of peppy pop-rock with an air of teenage angst and romance.

In the beginning, it’s fun, high-energy music, but after six songs, the good feeling is over; everything starts to sounds the same. How many times can lead singer Ryan Dunson really sing about love in such a high-pitched, adolescent voice?

This album is definitely youthful, and because it is reminiscent of being 16 and shopping at Hollister, it doesn’t have the most mature sound. Dunson is 28 years old, yet ROTY is still making high school tunes.

The Goodnight Moon Part II is a continuation of the pop-rock that was popular approximately seven years ago. The band started in 2005, and it sounds like now it’s producing a more intricate version of the music it was making then, without much significant change.

On this album, the band has a strange tendency to produce songs that are youthful, both in sound and lyrical content, even though perhaps it is beyond that. It feels like a front to pander to a target audience of teens.

On “Colors of Summer,” Dunson sings, “And it feels like we are/Young kids in the pouring rain/Smoking cigarettes to ease the pain.” A few tracks later, on “Raleigh,” he sings that he’s “stuck between 28 and 17.”

Content like this feels less like healthy nostalgia than an attempt to recreate juvenile feelings. This style of pop-rock has its angsty moments, and there’s nothing wrong with that for a young band. The only problem is that ROTY isn’t such a young band anymore. As the members grew up, they should have had more mature experiences to sing about.

At times, though, the music sounds youthful in a good way. The track “Wild and Free (They Way It Goes)” is fun and peppy. It is one of few songs on the album that seems young without being awkward. 

“Leave It All Behind” dips into Lumineers territory with the lighter melody. It’s got oomph, but in a folk-pop fashion as opposed to the more pop-rock feel that Rookie of the Year tends to create. The repeated lyric, “So let’s leave it all behind,” is backed up with melodic “ooohs” and whistling in the background. This track is more in line with folk-pop norms.

It sounds as though ROTY is jumping on trends—first stuck in the dying wave of emo alt-pop, and then following the hot music of the moment—rather than developing its own sound.

It is disappointing, because the band has been around for quite some time, and “Leave It All Behind” simply sounds formulaic, rather than displaying musical maturityy. 

Dunson has a voice that is often perfect for this style, but on tracks with stripped-down instrumentals, it sounds too whiny. “444” is a sad break-up song. In fact, nearly all of Rookie of the Year’s songs are about romance in someway, and on “444,” Dunson is complaining emphatically like a teenage boy about a lost love. 

Overall, The Goodnight Moon Part II is indeed fun, but it feels repetitive and uninteresting by the end. Some of the mixing and composition is impressive, especially on the opening track, “Everything,” which has sonic moments that are pretty unique.

The intrigue that the opening song creates sets the bar for the rest of the album, and isn’t exactly met. A handful of songs are worth a listen, but Rookie of the Year packs too much teenage angst to digest in one sitting.

Rookie of the Year – Canova Presents: The Goodnight Moon Part II tracklist:

1. “Everything”
2. “Love/Me/Crazy”
3. “…Light Years Away”
4. “Three Words”
5. “Wild and Free (The Way It Goes)”
6. “Colors of Summer”
7. “Save Me”
8. “Leave It All Behind”
9. “Raleigh”
10. “Love and War”
11. “444”
12. “Sweeter (Bonus Track)”
13. “Let It Play (Bonus Track)”
14. “Colors of Summer (Acoustic Version)”

Anyone who’s been to Austin, Texas can testify that it is a truly weird place. A blue dot in a red sea, a country and folk mecca amidst the swaths of indie and hippie, a bro paradise and hipster haven all at once. It’s a place where frats throw country concerts next door to vegan co-ops, tailgates take place on the same nights as indie rap concerts and blues barbeque dinners.

It’s a magical place, really, and we should all be thankful for it. Sure, it is from Austin that we get hyper-commercialized indie buzz every March, where washed up Haight and Ashbury diehards congregate, where state school greek life thrives, and where Rick Perry originates (fine, he’s from Paint Creek, but from the nation’s eyes…), but Austin also gives America hope that real, soulful, genuine music can still flourish.

Austin gives us the modern blues and rock and roll scene in its most powerful and legitimate form, and it is here that Black Joe Lewis, who has emerged as one of the most talented of these modern blues men, brings about his latest debut, Electric Slave.

Today, there are only two acts, Jack White and The Black Keys, that are touting blues-based rock as the standard; this is truly a rock world where the banjo and the synth reign supreme. It’s a shame, really, that blues and soul have taken a backseat, considering that this rooted bastion of rock and roll can bring about the most rousing and elemental reactions.

But Electric Slave undoubtedly matches its contemporaries’ levels of emotional and primal connection, and in some ways surpasses them. There are moments of musical clarity that emerge from the thick and slow-churning distortion and Lewis’ own grimy growls. Flashes of funk on bass interlace with his growl and his guitar, making the work groovy and fresh. It is equal parts Atlanta funk, Texas country, Tennessee rock, and Alabama blues.

Lewis’ propensity for driving, crunchy guitar riffs is so organically perfected that it should make Dan Auerbach shudder in his leather jacket and boots. Album opener “Skulldiggin” churns through like nothing else this year, all the while Lewis’ own raspy voice screams across the wall of sound attempting to overpower, with an attitude to strut.

“Young Girls,” “Dar es Salaam,” and “Mammas Queen” all power through in this same great tradition, with power and pride in blues scales and frantic distortion that would fit in any Texas town’s watering hole. In addition, “The Hipster” and “Vampire” show that Lewis’ compositions are much more sophisticated than the simple strings-and-drums setup; each track displays a natural propensity with blues and soul horn work that bring an additional layer of emotion and breadth to the work.

It’s refreshing to know that there are musicians in America like Black Joe Lewis, and that they are thriving in their own space. There is something so cathartic and satisfying about hearing a beautifully produced blues riff that cannot be quenched by any midi device or drum pad, or a driving baseline that touches your primal nerve more than any banal pop gesture.

Music in its primal form ruminates through Electric Guest just as it does through Lubbock and Austin and Abilene and every little place in Texas in between.

Black Joe Lewis  – Electric Slave tracklist:

1. “Skulldiggin”
2. “Young Girls”
3. “Dar es Salaam”
4. “My Blood Ain’t Runnin’ Right”
5. “Guilty”
6. “Come To My Party”
7. “Vampire”
8. “Make Dat Money”
9. “The Hipster”
10. “Golem”
11. “Mammas Queen”

All Get Out’s lead man, Nathan Hussey, stripped down the rest of the band’s sound to release his first solo attempt. The effort has been released as Ground Me, a 10-song meditation of self-evaluation in alt-country, post-emo/alternative, and folk.

The album is quite derivative of All Get Out’s main body of work; the strongest distinction between the two is the title. Ground Me paces through well enough, though, with ruminations of anger, jealousy, and pity laced through Hussey’s storytelling.

There is no question that he is making music in its most basic form, and while it may be too base to criticize the production value of the album (Hussey basically did everything from his own home), one can still notice the overall effect of a lower audio quality than most releases.

In some moments, though, the initial brashness of the album’s quality brings out an authentic charm or “honesty,” especially considering mood and affect.

It sounds like Ground Me was recorded in a garage or a bedroom, like Hussey has been singing these songs to himself while on the lonely road of the singer-songwriter, like the only audience for the album is the one or two denizens of the local bar in some southern town on a Tuesday.

Hussey’s strength is certainly in his songwriting. “Angry Men” is simultaneously a cutting critique and a witty commentary of manifestations of masculine anger. Its melodic pacing is interestingly refreshing and a good introduction to the album. Perhaps the strongest song is “Intervention,” which is the most fully realized portion of Hussey’s attempts at songwriting and storytelling. More so than on any other track, his vulnerability shines through powerfully, as he screams, “I’m flat out drunk/No one listens to you talk when you are young,” giving the listener the rawest moments of the album.

The unfortunate thing about Ground Me is that its unique and noteworthy moments are spent in the first couple of tracks. The album trudges on without any more truly interesting moments of clarity or ingenuity, although it does stay afloat for those who are inclined to Hussey’s previous work or the particular niche of alternative rock in which he exists.

Ground Me sounds like the second half of Manchester Orchestra’s debut, I’m Like a Virgin Losing A Child. It has the same post-emo, alternative rock tweaked with a little twang, shuffling behind the musings of a nasally, yet insightful singer.

While Hussey may borrow one too many tricks from Manchester Orchestra’s Andy Hull, at least he does so to sincere and adequate effect. Still, Ground Me does not reach the same cathartic release and have the same level of musical and lyrical sophistication as contemporaries such as Waxahatchee’s Cerulean Salt did this year.

There is a sense that, while one may be listening to Hussey, there is no qualitative shift large enough to argue that one is not simply hearing a stripped down version of All Get Out.

Hussey – Ground Me tracklist:

1. “Angry Man”
2. “Ravanel”
3. “Intervention”
4. “No One”
5. “Persona Non Grata”
6. “Ground Me”
7. “Lond Bad Days”
8. “Neat”
9. “Well Water”
10. “What Do You Know”

Chicagoans may only know of O’Brother from musing about the band’s first album, Garden Window, but they got a true taste of the band’s huge sound at Lollapalooza this year, where onlookers were treated to work from its soon-to-be-released sophomore album, Disillusion.

With three guitarists, one might assume O’Brother’s sound would be cluttered, but it’s so pointedly composed and surprisingly simple that it’s hard to notice the multitude of guitars when caught in the midst of this wholly atmospheric album.

Disillusion slides slowly in with “Come Into the Divide.” Mystical and fading riffs dance around the white noise of a rolling snare drum and lead singer Tanner Merritt’s eerie falsetto coos and whispers abstract lyrics.

The weird ambiance of “Come into the Divide” could be the soundtrack to an ancient and sacred journey. If so, the dark wanderer of the album’s cover art would be our protagonist.

The distant sounds of “Come Into the Divide” crunch and fall apart, only to be picked up and put back together by “Parasitical.”

The creepy riffs of “Come Into the Divide” continue, only now with a fervor, and a driving progression locks in with a syncopated drum beat with anthemic power. Merritt’s vocals push with intensity against some parasitic thing, and thusly does the journey of our protagonist begin with violence.

The following track, “Context,” still fits with the flow, key, and style of “Parasitical,” so seamlessly that it’s hard to tell a new song has even started. In a conclusive way, Merrit lets out long wails akin to Thom Yorke over a metal-inspired post-rock progression, which melts away into a slow, chugging, doom-metal outro.

Even after this end, “Perilous Love” picks up where the bulk of “Context” left off, this time with guitars soaked in tremolo that waver alongside righteous heavy chugs. With that, the first part of the protagonist’s voyage ends.

Disillusion takes a calmer turn on “Path of Folly.” This track undoubtedly brings to mind Muse and Radiohead, though it is still quite distinctly O’Brother’s sound and doesn’t step on any toes in the process.

The sound of Disillusion is groovy, repetitive, and steeped in thick tones. “Oblivion” begins with these groovy rhythms and continues expanding until it reaches a heavy plateau. It then drives directly off this precipice, landing in quiet and desolate territory. The eerie foreshadowing of “Come Into the Divide” manifests as this slow bridge connecting the precipice to the final moments of “Oblivion,” where the splashing and crashing of cymbals elevates alongside the howling vocals belted out by Merritt.

There is an exacted flow to Disillusion, and this journey our wanderer has taken is possible only with such consistency. The depression of the bridge in “Oblivion” wouldn’t be able to launch upward if it weren’t for the ground laid in the previous songs. One can see where O’Brother may have been inspired by the ultra-quiet moments of a King Crimson record that blast back into incredible volume on songs like “21st Century Schizoid Man.”

Similarly, the punishing end moments of “Context” wouldn’t hit as hard if it weren’t for the entire context set by the first two tracks, in the same way Pink Floyd’s “Eclipse” wouldn’t be what it was without the perfect trajectory of every prior track on Dark Side of the Moon.

O’Brother was admittedly on a “Pink Floyd kick,” during the recording of Disillusion. The album’s flow and its ethereal nature, although sounding nothing like Pink Floyd or King Crimson, certainly drew inspiration from their work.

The final stint for our wanderer begins with the the title track, “Disillusion.” The giant, violent post-metal build-up is the highest point of the album. The fall-out of this last conflict can be found in “Absence,” a calm, albeit chaotic, song that seems to fall into the disillusionment that this entire album encompasses.

The redemption of this is the final track, “Radiance.” To solidify and resolve every dissonant moment, “Radiance” raises into ambiance from the chaos of “Absence” and fades out, jsut as the album faded in.

All in all, Disillusion is a journey worth taking, and O’Brother is a band worth keeping an eye on.

O’Brother – Disillusion tracklist:

1. “Come Into The Divide”
2. “Parasitical”
3. “Context”
4. “Perilous Love”
5. “Path of Folly”
6. “Oblivion”
7. “Transience”
8. “Disillusion”
9. “Absence”
10. “Radiance”

On August 20, Blue October will release its seventh studio album, Sway. The record is a step in the right direction from its previous release, Any Man in America, but more of a stumble for fans of the band’s old music.

The quintet is known for making sad, angry, and inspirational songs written by lead singer Justin Furstenfeld. Although Sway follows suit in that sound, it brings more positivity and variety than the group’s previous title, which focused on Furstenfeld’s struggle through another divorce and his fight for custody of his daughter.

On the surface, Sway sounds clean and smooth around the edges, but the core of the music does not feel original, and doesn’t even compare to the group’s best work. The instrumentals are not incredibly impressive at any point and the lyrics don’t feel fresh. Blue October certainly isn’t breaking any ground with this record.

But, Sway is not a bad effort, to say the least. Furstenfeld’s vocals are smooth, standing out in the climaxes of “Angels in Everything” and “Fear,” and member Ryan Delahoussaye’s violin work is always a great touch, but even he doesn’t stand out enough to redeem the record.

“Breathe, It’s Over” beautifully opens Sway with a short, acoustic, ambient track that sums up the feel of the album: calm and inspiring, yet mostly unimpressive.

“Breathe” quickly leads into the title track “Sway,” resembling a calm ’80s tune that doesn’t change much and sometimes misses the mark completely. When Furstenfeld whispers, “Come on, dance with me,” it just feels uncomfortable.

Most of this record stays in a medium-slow speed and power, excluding rock anthems “Hard Candy” and “Put It In.” These two back-to-back tracks only throw the album off with an uncomfortable heavy sound that feels completely unnatural in the context of the album.

“Light You Up” features electronic instrumentals and feels like a cut from Any Man in America, which isn’t refreshing. It does, however, flow into a nice, loud bridge, an element that is used well throughout Sway.

The interesting vocals and fun drums in the chorus to “Things We Do At Night” are a fresh point in the album, but this track also has its share of cliché, off-putting moments. Furstenfeld repeats parts of the verse, whispering, “Wave goodbye,” and, “Let me show you how much you mean to me,” among other strange phrases holding back one of the standout songs on Sway.

“Things We Do At Night” is a prime example of how this album excels in catchy choruses but falls short on the verses; it’s almost as if Blue October is simply filling in the time between each chorus.

The lyrics are not as impactful as usual, either. In the past, the band’s lyrics were thought provoking and often quotable, but on Sway, they lack imagination.

The final two tracks, “Not Broken Anymore” and the string instrumental track “To Be,” round out the album beautifully. “Not Broken Anymore” is a somber, yet inspirational ballad of catchy refrains and emotional tones. It’s one of the only tracks on Sway with lasting value that doesn’t have any off-putting parts.

“To Be” ends the record with an instrumental piece using only strings and one clip of a man giving an inspirational message, while the strings get louder before ending a bit too repetitively. The track clocks in at  3:15, giving it plenty of time to unfold, but it never changes all that much. It’s a peaceful way to end the album, but Blue October would have been better off ending on the high note of “Not Broken Anymore.”

Sway is a definite improvement to the band’s last record and a fairly solid release, but for a fan of Blue October, it lacks the balance of originality, emotion, and energy that one expects.

It’s the little things, like the whispering of cliché phrases, that really stick out in this album and leave an uncomfortable aftertaste. Overall, Sway is an alright album with a few nice, comforting songs, but it just doesn’t come close to the bar Blue October set for itself with the first half of its career.

Blue October – Sway tracklist:

1. “Breathe, It’s Over”
2. “Sway”
3. “Angels In Everything”
4. “Bleed Out”
5. “Debris”
6. “Fear”
7. “Things We Don’t Know About”
8. “Hard Candy”
9. “Put It In”
10. “Light You Up”
11. “Things We Do At Night”
12. “Not Broken Anymore”
13. “To Be”