Pop 'stache

John Moen is back with more great music, this time as the lead singer and songwriter for his folk-rock solo project Perhapst.

Primarily known as the drummer and a backup singer for The Decemberists, Moen is no newbie to the music scene, and with Revise Your Maps, his second release under the Perhapst moniker, he’s proven he’s not new to quality writing, either.

Starting off the album with a laid-back guitar riff and catchy slide guitar, Moen graces the opening track with his warm falsetto that listeners will come to know and love over the course of the album. It’s the thing that sets it apart from every other folk-rock band out there, and where his music really soars above the rest.

“Birds Off A Wire” serves as a relaxing, yet powerful wave that comes out strong and calmly drags you into this beauty of an album.

Although the opening track is a good lead into the album, it also stands alone as one of the most unique songs. From here on, the record gets much more folky, as is the case with the title track, “Revise Your Maps.” The signature slide guitar and twangy acoustic guitar, along with the simple walking bass line and shrill harmonica, coat this song with a layer of summery, country vibes common throughout the album.

The next song, “Sorrow and Shame,” shows the “rock” side of the folk-rock distinction. It comes in fast with a cliche, yet fun guitar riff with heavy distortion. With its Beach Boys-esque chorus and slightly edgier vocals and lyrics, this song is a short and sweet ride from beginning to end.

The heavily-harmonized “Still (Mt. Zero)” is a gorgeous, minimalistic track. The focus is more on the lyrics and the vocal accompaniment, in which Perhapst really shines. Introspective lines like, “The mountains are high tonight/The roads that bend don’t lead anywhere/The patience I once had is gone, I want to know what will become,” speak volumes.

“Queen Mary” is by far Revise Your Maps‘ most original track and stands out far ahead of the rest. Moen’s gorgeous falsetto once again takes the lead, and his guitar keeps a quick, steady pace until, toward the end of the song, it comes to an epic build-up that is lacking on the rest of the album. Given the perfect execution of this powerful segment, it’s a shame that it’s the only such moment on Revise Your Maps. The album ends on a fittingly mellow note with “Lightlow Nightowl,” although the song doesn’t have much new to offer.

Perhapst’s sophomore release is a great summer album, although it all slightly blends together and tends to sound stale at times. Regardless, it is no disappointment from a fantastic musician, and proves to be a better fit for Moen’s writing style than Perhapst’s self-titled debut.

It’s nice to hear that Moen stays a little true to his “roots” as a member of The Decemberists, yet still manages to put out original music and could even stand alone as the frontman for this side project if he chose. Get excited for more music from Moen in the future, although hopefully we won’t have to wait another five years for new music from this intriguing project.

Perhapst – Revise Your Maps tracklist:

1. “Birds Off A Wire”
2. “Willamette Valley Ballad”
3. “Ramble/Scramble”
4. “Revise Your Maps”
5. “Sorrow & Shame”
6. “True Sparrow”
7. “Fine Me”
8. “Offering The Blues”
9. “Still (Mt. Zero)”
10. “Thousand Words”
11. “Queen Mary”
12. “Highlife”
13. “Lightlow Nightowl”

“Up, On & Over,” the title track on the third album from Bronze Radio Return, sets an upbeat tone that is carried throughout each track. The sextet from Hartford, Conn. produced an LP rich with percussion and accents from guitar, harmonica, and banjo. Up, On & Over is particularly melodic, transporting the listener to the farm in Louisa, Va. where it was recorded.

The richness of Bronze Radio Return sets the group apart from its folk-pop counterparts; its original sound is much more bare than typical music from the genre. It has apparent rock influences, as heard on the debut self-titled EP.

The full-bodied sounds produced by the six band members are very impressive. Each song on Up, On & Over has its own quirks and style, subtleties that are only noticeable in the context of the album as a whole.

The downside to Up, On & Over is that while the bridge to each song is catchy and quickly learned, the sound rarely wanders from its firmly established comfort zone.

While the construction of each song is not formulaic, they employ similar techniques throughout, such as the drum’s style, incorporation of the banjo and hand claps, and the cheerful tempo of each song. These details make Up, On & Over charming, but Bronze Radio Return doesn’t seem to be taking many risks.

“Gilded Lily” is one of the more intriguing tracks on Up, On & Over. This track evokes a different type of drama than listeners can find on the rest of the album;  the banjo and percussion create a strong bluegrass vibe. The guitar picks that open the song create an eerie feel, and the track’s structure is distinct with changes in instrumentation.

The song “Rather Never Know” is particularly catchy. The music itself features the piano more noticeably. It also has the same peppy, positive beat found in folky pop, as heard on the album’s first single, “Further On,” but is embodied in a different fashion that is less common for the genre.

Bronze Radio Return distinguishes itself by experimenting at times with what might be considered conflicting sounds.

One of the most interesting aspects of Up, On & Over is the relationship between the banjo and electric guitar throughout the album, because they are juxtaposed, yet harmonious.

“As Soon As I Fall” is a stark contrast  to the book-ending tracks “All In” and “World Spin” because of the intense electric guitar being in the spotlight instead of the airy banjo. Even though “As Soon As I Fall” has a stronger rock influence, it does not feel out of place.

The lyrics throughout Up, On & Over tend to be nondescript, yet connect very deeply with a given emotion, as heard on “Thick and Thin,” with the chorus, “Hold on tight/It’s up around the bend/Before we arrive let’s pretend/And with all my might I’ll keep walls from caving in/Now, and always been/Through times thick and thin.” The song “Melting In My Icebox” is a strange, yet clever way of addressing how everything slips away and exploring the ethereal quality of life’s best moments. These lyrics sound genuine and original.

In contrast, the track “All In” opens with the line, “I’m going to take these rocks and turn ‘em into diamonds/Sell ‘em on the corner/Bring the money home to you/I work all day and set aside my pride,” and embodies the not-so-genuine side of Up, On & Over.These lyrics about trying to work and provide, which exhibit textbook nostalgia, are paired with a stompy, harmonica-infused rhythm, making Bronze Radio Return seem like it’s trying too hard to mirror a particular folk type.

A large part of the album’s appeal is the danceability of most of its tracks. Up, On & Over is a pleasant listen—the kind of album that’s perfect for zoning out and cruising on a summer road trip. However, it sounds like almost any other folk-pop, and needs something to set it apart.

Bronze Radio Return – Up, On & Over tracklist:

1. “Up, On & Over”
2. “Mister Mister”
3. “Further On”
4. “Rather Never Know”
5. “Melting In My Icebox”
6. “All In”
7. “As Soon As I Fall”
8. “World Spin”
9. “Thick and Thin”
10. “Middle Of The Road”
11. “Up Above Down Below”
12. “Gilded Lily”
13. “Sylvan”
14. “Everybody Parade”
15. “Stop and Pose”

In today’s market, it’s often difficult to find something original. So many artists claim the same label and attempt to dub themselves as an original, while in reality the innovation may be wasted on the average listener who is bombarded daily by songs and sounds that eventually become a dirty puddle reflecting the same basic idea.

When formulating The Sun Dogs, Rose Windows sought to create something its own without being forced into the radical areas of musical experimentation. The band has been called “folk-infused psychedelia” by some, while others claim it’s closer to a “Classic Americana” sound. Perhaps this inability of the public to label Rose Windows is a sign that what it has produced really is its own.

It cannot be doubted that Rose Windows has a distinctly Americana vibe, hearkening to a gritty Southwestern color across the whole of Sun Dogs. “Spirit Modules” culminates the group’s aesthetic with an airy power ballad enhanced by the enchanting vibrato of a Native American flute. Then comes a dramatic acceleration with “Native Dreams,” gives these folksy musicians a hard edge.

Vivid language filled with references to warriors, battles, and strength opulently evokes images of red sand dunes, and jagged craters in the blazing sun.

To those who may be wary of the old-school powerhouse guitar rampage style, don’t worry. “Season of Serpents” is a cozy cool down from the rest of the record. The tranquility of the plucking of six-strings coupled with a mystic tale of love demonstrates the band’s versatility, and reflects just how closely it really follows its inspirations in classic country rock—but the song still carries the unique imprint of Rose Windows.

“Wartime Lovers” is refreshing love song in a sea of modern music that attempts to dissect that infamous vexation we call love. Faded vocals that are just shy of ethereal drive home the message that love is not easily won, and the battle for it is rough.

There are drawbacks to the overall work, however. The down-to-earth feeling that Rose Windows achieves becomes repetitive, and is only set off by the few tracks that could only be described as harsh.  Each track is wonderful, but often only by itself. The album becomes difficult to appreciate when each song simultaneously sticks out and blends in.

All in all, Rose Windows has created a successful work of art. Any summer playlist should include at least one track from this monument to just plain good folk. It blazes with glory at times, and at others descends into the chilled simplicity of a cascading waterfall. It’s unique and nostalgic; a difficult thing to achieve.

Rose Windows – The Sun Dogs tracklist:

1. “Spirit Modules”
2. “Native Dreams”
3. “Heavenly Dreams”
4. “Walkin’ With a Woman”
5. “Season of Serpents”
6. “Wartime Lovers”
7. “Indian Summer”
8. “This Shroud”
9. “Coda”

Sigur Rós is one of those bands to get lost within. Each swelling passage flows patiently into the next while remaining on a certain wavelength, like some sort of Icelandic raga. For yours truly, the music embodies sensuality for life and every instrument awakens the senses. This holds true on Kveikur, but this particular journey has taken a new and bleak route.

As the album opens, a faint crumbling fades in and transforms into violent electric thumps, akin to the industrial gods Throbbing Gristle, and sets a precedent for Kveikur. This first song, “Brennisteinn,” is carried by these abrasive buzzes, as opposed to the soft hums and twinkling glockenspiels of previous albums. Inversely, other songs bring out a catchy beat where a full string section might have been before.

Sigur Rós has long been in the craft of serenity, but on Kveikur this tranquility is built with an aggressive energy and a contemporary touch.

The song “Kveikur” earns the title track position with an off-kilter and aggressive energy. Birgisson’s vocals swirl around, and a heavy guitar buzzes and warps in reverse. This chaos falls into balance only for the cohesion to be replaced with harsh feedback and a few haunting lines sung by a children’s choir.

The same powerful energy of previous Sigur Rós albums remains, but songs like “Kveikur” have a daunting feel that the band’s sound used to seemingly oppose. The song stares into a void, a nothingness that was once ignored. The distance between songs then seems empty and vast, with nothing but mechanistic rumbles, low creaks, and flittering textures for minutes on end.

These intense moments also share some relief. Kveikur’s distant stare looks back toward the jovial on “Rafstraumur,” which has sharp edges of excessive gain on the guitar but is uplifting nonetheless. In the same way, the dissonant turns of “Brennistein” are resolved by the calm mystery of “Hrafntinna” with a trumpet’s solemn melody carrying over the raw percussion of what sounds like metal shards tinkling.

This new approach on percussion is less about timing and more about accenting a feeling.

Cymbal crashes erupt from the off-beats and fall back into time. Sigur Rós has found beauty in the resolution of dissonance, as opposed to stretching those beautiful moments into entire albums.

Birgisson’s vocals have always been one of those beautiful, distinctive parts of Sigur Rós, and on Kveikur little tweaks and effects added to his voice bring out surreal dimensions. At times, his voice folds in on itself in fractal delays, or an eerie reverb makes his voice float in a sea of its own glowing resonance. On “Isjaki,” oddly harmonized, wolf-like howls accent the joyful, poppy tune.

With only three members active on this album, there is less constraint and more control over the dynamics of each section. There are moments on Kveikur that are reminiscent of Sigur Rós’ classic sound, but this album delves into shadowy places in order to illuminate the rest.

Kveikur has fragmented inclinations, though it has an upward trajectory in spite of the wretched moments. The final track, “Var,” is a meditation on two chords and each new note voices a resolution, making the final minutes of Kveikur more reflective than penetrating. Kveikur, like everything else Sigur Rós has touched, is an album that will stand the test of time.

Sigur Rós – Kveikur tracklist:

1. “Brennisteinn”
2. “Hrafntinna”
3. “Ísjaki”
4. “Yfirborð”
5. “Stormur”
6. “Kveikur”
7. “Rafstraumur”
8. “Bláþráður”
9. “Var”

The fuzzy, shoegaze quartet Tripwires from Reading, UK finally released its minimalist debut Spacehopper on June 18 after a six-year stint. Shifting drastically from their old days as a Slipknot cover band, the heavy psychedelic rockers have finally found their place in the music universe (and one that is pretty far out of this world).

Oozing with trippy guitar effects, groovy riffs, and beautiful soundscapes, Spacehopper is a solid freshman album from a band that looks like it has a lot more in store.

Starting off the album with an other-worldly, almost eerie mixture of sounds in the title track “Spacehopper,” the band sets listeners up with a good look at what is to come. The Liam Gallagher-esque vocals and layers of instrumental effects act as a great opener to the rest of the album, and the repeated line “I will let you down” is far from the truth.

Following the mellower intro track, “Plasticine” is full of life and overflowing with power, while a watery lead guitar riff adds a quirky element that is maintained throughout the album. The attention-grabbing track piques listeners’ interest from the start.

It is obvious that Tripwires approached this release with a “less is more” mindset, utilizing guitar effects and echoes to add new dimensions to the music.

“A Feedback Loop of Laughter” is another standout, but the next few songs, including the single “Shimmer,” are where the band begins to fall short. Tripwires stands alone as an original take on a disappearing genre, but its only issue is lack of change within its rigid comfort zone. The songs begin to sound somewhat similar, keeping just enough originality to prevent their being entirely boring.

The album finally picks back up with the mesmerizing “Catherine, I Feel Sick.” The layered, out of sync drums act as an interesting backdrop for a hazy guitar and beautiful melody.

After a smooth transition from “Catherine…,” the slow ballad “Wisdom Teeth” might be Spacehopper‘s best track. It’s by far the most unique in the bunch, with captivating lyrics like the reoccurring line, “Baby, I love you like my wisdom teeth.” Rhys Edwards beautifully sings, “I want to send you to another universe that’s far away” over a soldiering drum line and droning guitar.

The following track, “Tin Foil Skin,” seems promising at first, but is monotonously dragged out over the lengthy eight-minute time frame. It ends up becoming far too repetitive and stale, losing its initial spark.

Finishing off the LP, however, is the entrancing “Slow Mo,” another slow groove that shows off the band’s strong songwriting skills and has a happily prominent bass riff among the slide guitar and enticing vocals. It builds up to a satisfying conclusion for a mostly solid album.

Tripwires did a great job of creating an original product, but could have done a lot more to explore its unique sound and make an album that’s more consistently strong.

All of the songs on Spacehopper are either epic hits or slightly stale copies of the hits—still solid, but lacking the originality of other tracks. Most of the songs, though, are fresh and new. As a whole, Spacehopper is a beautiful creation that takes you to an entirely new place with each listen.

Tripwires – Spacehopper tracklist:

1. “Spacehopper”
2. “Plasticine”
3. “A Feedback Loop of Laughter”
4. “Shimmer”
5. “Love Me Sinister”
6. “Paint”
7. “Under a Gelatine Moon”
8. “Catherine, I Feel Sick”
9. “Wisdom Teeth”
10. “Tin Foil Skin”
11. “Slow Mo”

French Camp’s second album, Odd Particle, defies being pinned to one genre. It’s anchored by the mellow, atmospheric sound that pervades each track, but the details add a layer of subtle complexity.

“Way To Your Heart” opens the album with minimal background music as singer Owen Beverly croons in half-monotone. Despite the simplicity, the opening line is not only melodic, but catchy. The rest of the band kicks in when Beverly sings, “You were the king of emotion, drifting in the ocean.” A hollow echo is added to the end of the line—one of many unique elements that give the music depth.

Beverly credits producer Josh Kaler with adding such details. “[He] has a knack for creating abstract sounds,” Beverly told American Songwriter, “so songs that had very humble beginnings ended up with complex personalities.”

As “Way To Your Heart” develops, staccato notes and atmospheric sounds paint the background, and on “Standing Room Only,” the music is joined by a dancing synth line, warped echoes, and quirky guitar licks.

However, these details hardly jump out at the passing listener, and they eventually blend into the same tone. On one hand, this speaks to French Camp’s (and Kaler’s) talent—not only did they integrate a myriad of genres, they made a cohesive album out of the mix—but it pushes Odd Particle into monotonous territory.

The first half of the album is lost in its own sound, awash in mellow waves of guitar and plucking, plopping synth notes, though the offbeat drums are always interesting. Lyrically, it can approach cheesiness, such as in the bridge of “Cover Girl:” “She’s so fine, she must be mine.” And the title of the fourth track, “Earthbound Angel,” speaks for itself.

“Blown Away” stands apart because of its upbeat tempo. It blends rich, heartland guitars with a hint of sunny, Californian beats, and a layer of whimsical chimes brightens the track even more.

“Blown Away” highlights the upside of French Camp’s tendency toward subtlety: at times, the full-bodied guitars swell out of the mix, and at others the sunny beat takes over, but the transition is always seamless and the track’s flow is never interrupted.

The most drastic change in sound comes near the end of the album, with “Day Of Dead.” Its jangly drums and occasional buzzing guitar are a stark contrast to the slow grooves that characterize Odd Particle.

In the chorus of “Cover Girl,” French Camp employs a melody remarkably similar to Radiohead’s “My Iron Lung,” though the verses host a simpler guitar riff. Beverly’s voice is low and breathy, almost hypnotic.

Toward the end of the track, a funkier beat plays underneath a sample of a father explaining the birds and the bees to his son. Later, a deep voice explains that “the changes that turn a boy into a man” happen all the time. “Golly, what changes?” asks the boy, and the powerful drum beat from the next track, “I Heart The South,” immediately jumps in.

This unexpected entrance is one of Odd Particle‘s most ear-catching moments, providing a tiny peek at some of the potential that goes untapped in most of the album.

Clearly, French Camp wields a hefty amount of talent, and they show a tendency to experiment. Odd Particle is an interesting album, suitable both for providing a background atmosphere on a nighttime drive and for listening to by oneself, unraveling its complexities. But, the music lacks a certain edge, possibly because French Camp shied away from bolder shifts in sound. Odd Particle sounds too careful and somewhat overproduced; rarely are there any moments of intensity.

French Camp’s second release is by no means a bad album, but there’s a mystery quality that seems just out of the band’s reach. French Camp is on the cusp of greatness—if it can unleash its potential by tiptoeing over the edge of its comfort zone, it will release one hell of a third album.

French Camp – Odd Particle tracklist:

1. “Way To Your Heart”
2. “The Midway”
3. “Blown Away”
4. “Earthbound Angel”
5. “Cover Girl”
6. “I Heart The South”
7. “Standing Room Only”
8. “Luna Moth”
9. “Day Of Dead”
10. “Albatross”

Music is such a powerful form of expression that, when done right, can move and inspire audiences in a way that no other artistic medium can.

Its true potential is often overlooked, and too often is the true point of music missed by a mile. But every now and then, a band comes along and creates something truly mind-blowing that breaks the barrier of what audiences thought was possible. The pure talent makes listeners wonder how on earth the band hasn’t been discovered yet.

In the case of These Paper Satellites, a melodic math rock band from California that released its debut EP Here Goes Nothing, There Goes Everything on June 2, the only logical explanation is that it hasn’t been out long enough to gain popularity.

With a sound like the blushing newborn offspring of Casey Crescenzo and Anthony Green, These Paper Satellites has an immeasurable amount of potential and will surely appeal to a wide fanbase if given the chance.

Here Goes Nothing starts off with an epic, piano-heavy intro that immediately dives into the trippy universe explored over the course of the EP, perfectly setting the scene for what is to come. With the eerie build-up into the following track, “Ages Coming (Hey Hey)”—one of the best on the record—it’s clear that These Paper Satellites put a lot of thought into the flow of the album, which is often the least of a writer’s worries on a debut.

“Ages Coming (Hey Hey)” is a groovy jam that shows off the band’s skill and is a perfect portrayal of its math rock side. In addition to the mind-boggling time shifts and unorthodox song structure, the group shows off its pipes in this harmony-ridden beauty of a song.

Kicking off with a menacing guitar riff, the ironically titled “Soft Places” has to be Here Goes Nothing‘s most chaotic track. With overlapping vocals, multiple random buildups, and scene changes throughout, it’s a strangely beautiful mid-album gem.

The symbolic “Murders” is full of historical references and once again highlights the immense talent These Paper Satellites’ members, both as writers and musicians. They conjure a lyrically deep, yet catchy song that appeals to both the casual listener and those who look for larger meaning, with references to everything from an unethical dish enjoyed by kings (Ortolan) to a Medieval astronomer (Tycho).

The last minute and 30 seconds of “Murders” are the highlight of the album. After an epic build up, the groove slows and hits listeners with a combination of a gorgeous melody, powerful drums, and swooning guitars.

Then on to the very personal, true account that is “High West.” This song documents the vivid, haunting nightmares that plagued lead singer Chris Knight after reading the Walking Dead graphic novels. High West Silver Whiskey became Knight’s vice as he used it to overcome his sleeping problem. “High West” shows off Knight’s skills as a lyricist, as well as his brutal songwriting honesty with lines like, “I come to, again, from one of those dreams you can’t leave/No matter how hard you try, no matter how hard you try,” referring to the vividness of his nightmares.

You couldn’t ask for a more solid debut than Here Goes Nothing, There Goes Everything.

From start to finish, it is a masterpiece showcasing the epitome of beautiful music through the band’s ability to set a gorgeous atmosphere and carry it out until the very end.

Keep an eye out for These Paper Satellites—the group has proven itself worthy of attention. Here Goes Nothing, There Goes Everything is posted as “name your price” on Bandcamp, but no price is too high for this phenomenal debut.

These Paper Satellites – Here Goes Nothing, There Goes Everything tracklist:

1. “Intro”
2. “Ages Coming (Hey Hey)”
3. “Soft Places”
4. “Murders”
5. “High West”

America’s favorite millennial rockers Jimmy Eat World returned to the scene on June 11 with the eighth album since 1995, Damage. Although their large-scale fame arose over ten years ago, the musicians from Arizona have continued to release critically solid albums ever since.

With lyrics and powerful progressions known for touching the hearts of romantic listeners worldwide, Damage is an absolutely beautiful continuance of earnest confessions and relatable sentiments. Its faithful emo-rock insides drive Damage on immediate par with 1999’s Clarity and 2001’s Bleed American.

Jimmy Eat World—expert in the expression of heartache, breakup, and the contemplation of old love—seems to have maintained the momentum that drives its sadness to an influential sound space. The acoustic recording “You Were Good” unravels the album’s conclusion with the raw breed of honesty that Jimmy’s career has left us anticipating: “So I’m not who you wanted/But you’re still the one who sets a fire in me/Guess I’ll drink what I’ll drink/Until the loving touch I need is not a need.”

With Damage, this imperfect sound quality wins over HD cleanliness—an intentional retreat, according to frontman Jim Adkins via Rolling Stone: “There was less of an emphasis on it being clean and perfect. And I think it feels better for what the songs are.”

So what are the songs on Damage, then? Jimmy Eat World calls the album an “adult break-up record.” Following up on this description, Adkins told Rolling Stone, “I’m 37 and the world around me is a lot different than when I was writing breakup songs in my 20’s. I tried to reflect that in what the lyrics are.”

True to this intention, the songs on Damage discuss love and pain with a perspective that only time can yield. “Please Say No” is a slow and simple acoustic guitar track that outlines the pain of reconnecting with a true love lost. A man reaches out on a courageous and tipsy phone call to say, “Me with you is who I think I’ll always be.”

Jimmy Eat World members may have grown up and away from the heartbreaks of their earlier years, but so have we. Pains are more nostalgic and complex now, the consequences more permanent.

This ballad is a determining example of the band’s ability to maintain a sound drenched in feeling, without ever having to reach backwards.

Regarding the task of writing music that he knows will go directly toward the hearts of devoted listeners, Adkins explained in an interview with Music Radar, “If you’re chasing the approval of anybody, you’re going to come out with something diluted. If you do chase it and it doesn’t elicit [a positive] response from people, that’s digging yourself into emotional and songwriting despair. You can’t stop until you have something you’re proud of.” The results of this integrity are intonations and lyrics that stir the emotions of millions of fans, easily on a basis as consistent as heartache itself.

With a generation of fans having been actively comforted by “The Middle” and tearfully moved by “Hear You Me,” there’s a predisposition to draw consolation from Jimmy Eat World’s emotionally woven anecdotes and agony-braised chords. Damage‘s “Appreciation” opens the album with bold familiarity, as its very first electric strum rings dissonant and defined in its surrounding anticipatory silence.

It marks a continued employment of a very practiced method, a sound too signature to distrust. Album singles “Damage” and “I Will Steal You Back” share whispered energy and romantic introspect, although they do little to contribute to the album’s stand-out song hype. This can only be considered a fault from radio listeners who don’t make it past the singles to the entire album.

At the end, we find ourselves feeling consoled and empowered with Damage, just as we could ten years ago with Clarity, Bleed American, and Futures.

Jimmy Eat World – Damage tracklist:

1. “Appreciation”
2. “Damage”
3. “Lean”
4. “Book of Love”
5. “I Will Steal You Back”
6. “Please Say No”
7. “How’d You Have Me”
8. “No, Never”
9. “Byebyelove”
10. “You Were Good”

Watching Movies With The Sound Off is the second LP and surprisingly intimate effort from 21 year-old rapper Mac Miller; he addresses everything from the death of a childhood friend on “REMember” to life’s larger questions on “Avian.” Miller still includes some women and weed songs, but he is clearly using this album to be more introspective.

Watching Movies also has an impressive list of guests: ScHoolboy Q, Earl Sweatshirt, Action Bronson, Ab-Soul, Tyler, The Creator, and Jay Electronica lend their vocals to Miller’s mix, and Diplo and Flying Lotus produced one track each. The roster is diverse and skilled, setting the bar high for Miller’s production and performance. The variety of guests affects the album’s cohesiveness, but Miller’s lyrics and intent keep a running theme throughout Watching Movies With The Sound Off.

The first nine songs are generally thoughtful, conscious, and somewhat dark, but are often overshadowed by the production and Miller’s tendency to throw in lines about drinking or women.

On “S.D.S,” he contemplates religion, but his insights merely scratch the surface and are on top of a juxtaposing danceable Flying Lotus beat. “Wonder if Christ made a million off selling the cross,” is one of the more direct ponderings, but it stops there, leaving room for further contemplation. Miller’s superficial analyses pervade the album.

Watching Movies is at its best when Miller talks more personally. On “Objects in the Mirror,” Miller personifies his drug addiction as a relationship with a woman. “And I been thinking about her all the time/I never seen somebody put together perfectly/What do I have to do to call you mine?,” Miller raps. The beat, produced by Pharrell, creates a sentimental tone appropriate for Miller’s desire to “leave it all in the rearview.”

“Red Dot Music,” featuring Action Bronson and Loaded Lux, is one of the best songs of Watching Movies. Miller’s hook, “I said it must be the drugs that got us thinking crazy shit/Looking up into the clouds where the angels sit/They looking down, keeping watch ’til I’m dead/So how’d I get this red dot on my head?” highlights the combination of his reckless party behavior and curiosity of what lies beyond the life he’s been leading, all in the context of impending death.

Miller’s self-awareness and questioning are the essence of Watching Movies With The Sound Off.

The “Red Dot Music” outro, rapped by Loaded Lux, disses Miller’s status as a jokester and white rapper. Miller knows this is a more thoughtful album than his previous work, and the outro is the most interesting part of Watching Movies because he subjects himself to the criticism he tends to receive from others. In a way, Miller is commenting on how, in the past, he could not be taken seriously because of both his lyrics and his race, but moving beyond that phase.

Loaded Lux repeats the line, “I liked you better when you was Easy Mac with the cheesy raps/Who the fuck is Mac Miller?,” which is precisely what listeners must be thinking about this album, and even Mac Miller himself. Miller’s previous work has been insightful, but not as deep as he tries to go with Watching Movies. His first studio release, Blue Slide Park, was about his life growing up in Pittsburg. Miller has matured since the release of his first LP, but presumptions about him as a rapper remain.

While Miller’s consciousness is prominent throughout, variety comes from the bonus track “Goosebumpz,” produced by Diplo—boasting one of the dopest beats on Watching Movies—and the goofy “O.K.” featuring Tyler, The Creator, which opens with a burp.

Overall, Watching Movies With The Sound Off is a step forward for Mac Miller. His attempt at being a more conscious rapper is noted; sometimes he succeeds and sometimes he doesn’t. The album starts off strong, but dwindles by “Youforia,” a horribly sung and unnecessary track.

Watching Movies With The Sound Off might be an album leading Mac Miller’s transition into a stronger, more ruminative rapper, but he isn’t there yet.

Mac Miller – Watching Movies With The Sound Off tracklist:

1. “The Star Room”
2. “Avian”
3. “I’m Not Real (feat. Vinny Radio & Earl Sweatshirt)”
4. “S.D.S.”
5. “Bird Call”
6. “Matches (feat. Ab-Soul)”
7. “I Am Who Am (Killin’ Time) (feat. Niki Randa)”
8. “Objects In the Mirror”
9. “Red Dot Music (feat. Action Bronson)”
10. “Gees (feat. ScHoolboy Q)”
11. “Watching Movies”
12. “Suplexes Inside of Complexes and Duplexes (feat. Jay Electronica)”
13. “Remember”
14. “Someone Like You”
15. “Aquarium”
16. “Youforia”
17. “Goosebumpz”
18. “O.K. (feat. Tyler, The Creator)”
19. “Claymation”

A heavily distorted guitar fades in with a low grumble akin to the sound of Dallas Green’s previous band, Alexisonfire, only to be supplanted by a strike on the acoustic guitar. City and Colour is Green’s acoustic brainchild, and The Hurry and The Harm is his latest LP.

Green has a strong voice, which he had exercised during his Alexisonfire days, but now has taken a mellower approach with vocals and music alike. That mellow shade ranges from bright and joyous country, like on “Harder Than Stone,” to catchy-melody-filled indie anthems like “Paradise,” that approach the likes of Iron and Wine without stepping on any feet.

When talk of a solo project comes about, many musicians reach for an acoustic guitar. Rolling from town to town, Green and others must feel like minstrels clutching a lute, and wooing the crowds with their sensitive magic. Woo they must, because people are looking for a hit of nostalgia.

Though if you’re looking for more than “the sweetest melody” that Green says he’s searching for, City and Colour might not be your pick. His basic chord progressions, the country licks on a cheesy, reverb-soaked electric guitar thrown in seemingly at random, and his calm approach to playing guitar amount to enjoyable, albeit trite, music.

This isn’t what Green was aiming for, as he makes clear on “Commentator.” He sings, “What gave you the impression that your opinion means anything to anyone?/You’re nothing but a bunch of amateurs, commentators, who live their lives behind a wall of insecurities.” He’s pointing at music journalists and opinionated enthusiasts alike, in a “keep your enemies closer” sort of way.

Though it begs a question: Could Green, or anyone, articulate an opinion about music while remaining objective? He may have just as difficult a time with that as he would writing innovative music. Green makes it clear he doesn’t want to be “revolutionary,” as he sings, so one cannot fault him for being conventional. In any case, kudos to Green for being well aware of his critics and starting a conversation about whether dissecting music is truly important.

He may not be “revolutionary,” but the telltale sounds from his other albums have at least expanded. Now Green is incorporating string sections and a studio touch that gives The Hurry and The Harm a distant echo like that of a chamber.

“Ladies and Gentleman,” for example, has a softly vibrating bass, a righteous electric piano solo, and powerful, patient drumming on toms that add worlds to the simple strumming of Green on an old acoustic.

On “Thirst,” the sonic motif of The Hurry and The Harm gets dropped for a bluesier feel and a distorted guitar, though Green still holds onto his acoustic throughout the chorus. It’s not groundbreaking, but music doesn’t need to be.

It’s been said that if originality is one’s only virtue, then that is less than one virtue. The Hurry and The Harm‘s virtue is of patience that draws feeling in the air between chords. It is this fight against “the hurry” that keeps Green from trying to complicate and add complexity to his music. For Green, being in a sea of beautiful and patient music is perfect, but for some, destroying the templates of music and creating something fresh and exciting is paramount.

The Hurry and The Harm certainly isn’t a musician’s music, though Green can teach those who hold progress as an idol that there is much more than innovation that makes music sacred. It is realizations like this that make dissecting music worthwhile.

City and Colour – The Hurry and The Harm tracklist:

1. “The Hurry and The Harm”
2. “Harder Than Stone”
3. “Of Space and Time”
4. “The Lonely Life”
5. “Paradise”
6. “Commentators”
7. “Thirst”
8. “Two Coins”
9. “Take Care”
10. “Ladies and Gentlemen”
11. “The Golden State”
12. “Death’s Song”

“Might just let you meet ‘Ye.” – Jay-Z, “N*ggas In Paris”

It is no coincidence that Jay-Z’s next album, the magnanimously titled Magna Carta Holy Grail, is coming out on June 24. The serendipity is not in the specific date, nor the bizarre decision to partner with Samsung to release the record early; no, serendipity lies in the six day interval between Sean Carter’s record release and the unceremoniously monstrous drop of Kanye West’s sixth studio album, the grating and belligerent Yeezus.

Carter and West have had their differences, the most public of which might be the unfathomable beef over who did songs with Coldplay first. And these scuffles hardly compete with the tacked-on studio nonsense of “Kanye West vs. 50 Cent” preceding the release of West’s worst record, Graduation.

But the parallelism of Magna Carta Holy Grail and Yeezus deserves to be pointed out, simply because Yeezus would be an almost impossible album to promote, were it not for the inexplicable artist who has created it. Whether their beef is constructed or a real sibling-style rivalry, only one man could make Jay-Z rhyme about being a glorified doorman.

Yeezus makes sense as a single-less album—at best, there’s one song that could halfway pose as a single (“Black Skinhead” which, given the title, probably isn’t the best choice anyway). But to buy into West’s narrative that the album is without pretense or marketing is to blindly decide that Kanye would never lie to the listener when he has repeatedly done so for the past decade.

Yeezus’ inception is classic art school dropout schlock—Important Art should be presented Naturally (note the caps). Never you mind that Kanye has been shelling out for projectors across the world to present his first “non-single,” “New Slaves.”

But such is the reality when dealing with a miscreant, hedonistic, predatory 808 savant like Kanye West. Yeezus crawls from the depths of West’s pscyhe like the mutant anti-My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, a statement on what could’ve happened had West not labored so intensely over the finished product of his masterpiece.

Yeezus is no masterpiece; it’s closer to Metal Machine Music or Brian Wilson’s interminable Pet Sounds sessions. Despite West’s insistence to the New York Times, and completely counter to the purpose of his late in the game editing session with Rick Rubin, Yeezus is anything but minimal. “New Slaves” is the simplest track, yet it bursts from plinking synth to arena rock Auto-Tune freak out in a moment, then back again, a decidedly complex and artful turn that belies the marketing West has been doing for the record.

West’s marketing has been subtly focused on proving one point that, to most who passingly acknowledge his music, has been decided for years—that Kanye West is a True Artist. One of Kanye’s first true gifts was the somewhat true notion that he was always being conspired against, always being held back by forces either more powerful or more diabolical than he. Yet years after he’s established a foothold as rap’s true 21st century pop-pioneer, West is still bitching about white people hanging out in the Hamptons who are ignoring him out of spite.

It’s this insecurity that drove him to create 808s and Heartbreak, to which Yeezus is probably most closely related as a work of pure id. It’s this insecurity that drives him to constantly scream about how many married white women he’s bedded, all for the sake of getting back at his tormentors. It’s the same insecurity that drives him to create a David Fincher-in-Seven-like dungeon beat on “I’m In It,” complete with moans and talk of “eatin’ ass.”

It’s a stretch to say Kanye is not confident, but not to say that Yeezus’ rampant displays of power are at least half chest-beating that’s meant to intimidate his contemporaries.

Although to be fair, it’s quite the goddamned chest-beating. While Kanye’s verses have never been the most solid parts of his game—he gets lost in wordplay and is fine letting the beat swallow him on “Bound 2”—West can more than likely claim to be the best beat man in the game. Or at least the best collagist of beats, as the laundry list of collaborators on this album would seem to indicate West did little more than move some faders around.

The breadth of producers comes in handy in places, but stunts Yeezus’ growth in others; the first four tracks, all overseen by Daft Punk and Hudson Mohawke, hold together as a tight, cohesive statement of braggadocio, complete with horror-movie screams and a children’s choir. From there the sequencing goes haywire. Low-light standout “Hold My Liquor” somehow brings the worlds of Chief Keef and Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon together to splendid effect, overshadowing later album cuts like “Guilt Trip” and “Send It Up.” To West’s credit on letting his voice get run over by “Bound 2,” the song is an unreal chopped and screwed R&B sample that transforms into magical Charlie Wilson exeunt.

Mercifully short considering its moral and intra-track heft, Yeezus hits its strange, artful peak on “Blood on the Leaves.” A Nina Simone sample frequently joined by horns from TNGHT’s “R U Ready,” “Blood on the Leaves” accurately captures many facets of Kanye West’s fireworks show of a career and places them in a neat, six-minute kind of ballad.

An Auto-Tuned West morphs back to the days before he “spit it through the wire” for the first verse, as if briefly possessed by a spirit he’s tried to bury in all that Givenchy. But the second TNGHT erupts through the song, Kanye is back to his partying days, recalling women doing molly in front of him and having out of body experiences. This moment of “Blood on the Leaves” is the most disjointed, sounds blasting in and out, tones shifting seemingly at random—a decent analogue for the Graduation-to-808s-era Kanye.

Then, in a Watch the Throne moment of clarity, ‘Ye is back to his womanizing ways, stitching himself to Jay-Z and Beyonce as the horns completely envelope Simone and the Auto-Tune disappears. His snarling verse about unwanted pregnancy may mean something closer to truth than we know, but that’s for gossip sites like TMZ and Pitchfork to figure out. As the song closes in a wash of Auto-Tune, we’re no closer to figuring out the modus operandi of pop’s most confusing genius.

But one gets the feeling that Kanye West isn’t any closer, either. Jay-Z certainly doesn’t understand him; the closest they got was Watch The Throne, which frequently felt like Jay-Z semi-naturally wedging himself into beats more suited to Kanye’s playful, black-light partying ways.

Rick Rubin, Daft Punk, TNGHT, Hudson Mohawke, Chief Keef, Kid Cudi, Frank Ocean, and Kim Kardashian certainly don’t get him—most just are holding on for dear life to his coattails, hoping he doesn’t completely fly off the tracks. The others are hanging around to watch what he can do. In a way, West descends more from the Lou Reed/Brian Wilson mode of songwriting than his long-professed discipleship under Michael Jackson.

West is a perfectionist pop mastermind, and Yeezus at times does feel like true art (note the caps). It’s frustrating, then, that the art gets caught up in all of West’s mindless vitriol toward women, his incessant need to prove somebody’s out to get him, and the sophomoric idea that he can create anything approaching an outsider art piece at this point in his career.

Nobody really knows who Kanye West is, least of all Kanye West. The frustration and miracle of Yeezus, then, is that it gives a pretty powerful glimpse before diving back into obfuscation.

Kanye West – Yeezus Tracklist

1. “On Sight”
2. “Black Skinhead”
3. “I Am a God”
4. “New Slaves (feat. Frank Ocean)”
5. “Hold My Liquor (feat. Justin Vernon and Chief Keef)”
6. “I’m In It (feat. Justin Vernon)”
7. “Blood On the Leaves”
8. “Guilt Trip (feat. Kid Cudi)”
9. “Send It Up”
10. “Bound 2 (feat. Charlie Wilson)”

There are some bands who hone a certain sound, but whose formulas dry up in the light of scrutiny. There are others who constantly morph, though the risk of ostracizing fans often becomes reality. Then there is Portugal. The Man, who has crafted its own niche within the psych-rock world, and manages to shift its sound over and over, even within a single song.

Portugal. The Man’s latest LP, Evil Friends, is the band’s eighth release and stands as another harrowing example of the joys of musical ADD.

Evil Friends begins with a calm, albeit wonky, synth line that wouldn’t be out of place on a Residents album. Singer John Gourley sings, “Everything carries weight, everything is the same, and we are all together,” toeing the line between profundity and a silly parody of a Beatles lyric—again, not dissimilar to The Residents.

Portugal. The Man may be worlds away from being too weird to handle, but it exemplifies how rock and pop have taken a turn toward strangeness.

Evil Friends has textures and touches of weirdness, though it maintains a broad range of accessibility, and these facets allow Portugal to crank out new albums and secure a spot on the festival circuit year in and year out.

The first track, “Plastic Soldiers,” doesn’t stay in any one place for long, and the same can be said for all of Evil Friends. As “Plastic Soldiers” ends, a chorus of voices lifts the calm spirit of the song before a flux of warping synth replaces it, and from it comes the joyous piano of “Creep in a T-Shirt.” These on-a-dime changes are the standard for Evil Friends.

These frequent shifts don’t mean that Portugal. The Man doesn’t suffer from overlap. “Creep in a T-Shirt” and mid-album track “Atomic Man” vary in structure and texture; however, the key and progression sounds uncomfortably similar. The soft piano outro of “Atomic Man” seems to use the same chords as the main chunk of “Creep in a T-Shirt,” though it has a little up-tempo face lift for good measure.

In some ways, this reeks of a lack of creativity. Much of the album rests on four chords cranked out on piano or guitar, a psychedelic-pop synth line, anthemic hooks, and equally anthemic sing-songy vocals. But it does draw a commonality for Evil Friends and give the album a distinct flow.

The title track is at the height of this flow. A bright, Fender Rhodes-sounding lick on the keys carries along with a lamenting Gourley. In the background, an off-kilter clunk can be heard, which shifts in pitch and repetition until an acoustic guitar rises from the ashes of this freaky twist.

“Modern Jesus,” an apparent disclaiming of Christian dogma, has a driving and dancey vibe. As the chorus rings out, a string section begins to dance with an acoustic riff as Gourley’s vocals swoon over it all. It’s a well-orchestrated section, another instance of the genius that can arise from Portugal. The Man’s formula.

Another part of this formula is Gourley’s satirical alter-egos. On “Atomic Man,” Gourley sings about himself as a pseudo-super hero, who controls the tides and turns a cold shoulder to the world. On “Evil Friends,” he proclaims his superiority over many, and in “Hip Hop Kids,” he raises his voice only to claim he doesn’t give a shit. It’s not that Gourley is self-centered, but rather that this attitude is just as catchy as the guitar hooks.

This ironically self-centered, take-on-the-whole-world vigor is what much of Portugal. The Man’s weekend warrior audience is about, and Evil Friends is steeped and brewed in these ideas. “Purple Yellow Red and Blue” is the first single off Evil Friends, and its message is simple: “All I wanna do is live in ecstasy, I know what’s best for me.” Evil Friends is a testament to the fact that Portugal. The Man makes whatever sounds it wants, when it wants to.

Portugal. The Man – Evil Friends tracklist:

1. “Plastic Soldiers”
2. “Creep in a T-Shirt”
3. “Evil Friends”
4. “Modern Jesus”
5. “Hip Hop Kids”
6. “Atomic Man”
7. “Sea of Air”
8. “Waves”
9. “Holy Roller (Hallelujah)”
10. “Someday Believers”
11. “Purple Yellow Red and Blue”
12. “Smile”