Pop 'stache

There are few bands that can leave your ears hemorrhaging and your innermost thoughts wrangled. One of those bands is Iceage—the Copenhagen, Denmark punks who manage to gloss over every emotional black hole of punk rock, clutching onto the sadistically abrasive melodies and tactful approach. After battling for a label and a series of pressings, the band’s pins-and-needles debut New Brigade went largely unheard and then dismissed. Pick up Iceage’s sophomore release, though, and it goes without question—they’re not kids, they’re men; they’re playing from the heart (albeit, a thoroughly gnarled one); and they’ll blow your head clean off, 45 magnum or not.

Aborting the wall-of-industrial-sound for more intricate and deliberate stylings, Iceage is now leaning on some bloated bass lines and clattering guitar. With their metal waves and guitar-slamming melodies resting in the corner, the quartet now has room to attack their instruments and pulse in some noise punk and post-punk throughout their warm 12-track punk cavity.

“Ecstasy,” the opening track is inherently deceiving; that is, unless you consider a sonic gut punch and throat ripping screams your idea of aural nirvana. Dissonance aside, “Ecstasy” is a balanced opening to the album, not front-loading with their entire stock of intensity, but still giving it a solid wind-up. The bridge, repeated wail “PRESSURE!” as the instruments die down for a moment of hard fought clarity is oddly comforting in the faint feedback aftermath.

The taking-care-of-business opener is swiftly booted by “Coalition.” The track serves as proof that Iceage are aiming high toward the unsung anthemic aspects of punk, laying on the fret groping riffs as vocalist Elias Rønnenfelt’s formerly guttural bark is whipped into an insistent howl. Iceage prove that with age comes wisdom–even for punks–with the earworm lyrics, “Wants me to take her/ But blockades run through my veins/ Something denies coalition with you.”

“Interlude” breaks all fatigue, following the eerie quiet of How to destroy angels_  flavor but then builds with a little drummer boy in the doldrums snare and an unassuming build. What the dynamic four-piece is capable of molding with static chops and some simple lines is testament to their ability to summon dark matter from anything. Unafraid to slosh out some southern fried punk, the electric guitar intro to “In Haze” can’t escape a speckling of muddy and deliberate blues chops. Rønnenfelt’s slate-spitting vocals quickly interject, nodding toward early neurosis-stricken Black Flag.

The halfway point of the album begins on a macabre note, “Morals” with Rønnenfelt panting over an ominous fill. His voice is so hurting that it seems like he’s going to be dragging you off the brink with you. But then picks up with strained melodic and blunt-edged snarls. The song labors but fully demonstrates Rønnenfelt’s range and the ample thread of styles running throughout the album. There’s something oddly melodic about this laser-pointed angst in the refrain “Where’s your morals?” that can’t be ignored.

The album’s closer and title track, “You’re Nothing” a clanging flurry of cymbals and the old Iceage, complete with fatigue-laced wails and head-pounding pace. Rønnenfelt’s repeated descent with each yelp of “You are nothing!”  drains into the well of emotion he packs into every verse and crawls right to the finish line leaving listeners tired, busted, and satisfied.

New Brigade may have been Iceage’s bulldog ballad, leaving a lasting scar; but with You’re Nothing, things are a little more shiny and new while bearing the same impact—the aftermath is just a lot prettier. Hacksawing the fat off today’s oversaturated punk in favor of glorious feedback slaughter, Iceage clearly has a vision, and it’s straight from some dark corner within ourselves that we’d all rather not acknowledge, set to a driving post-punk fantasy…maybe nightmare.

Iceage – You’re Nothing tracklist:

1. “Ecstasy”
2. “Coalition”
3. “Interlude”
4. “Burning Hand”
5. “In Haze”
6. “Morals”
7. “Everything Drifts”
8. “Wounded Hearts”
9. “It Might Hit First”
10. ” Rodfæstet”
11. “Awake”
12. “You’re Nothing”

According to Reuters News and a poll spanning 21 countries, an estimated 12% of global citizens believed the world would end on December 21st. This belief in an imminent end to humanity, however rash or misinterpreted, brought about something our generation had never seen before- the thoughtful exploration of a universal “end”. Such explorations spanned through literature, film and music. Cynical viral videos rampaged; the genuinely concerned quit their jobs to pursue bucket lists. For Brooklyn based indie rockers Widowspeak, these apocalyptic curiosities were of great interest while writing their second album Almanac. Desolate imagery and dark themes leak from almost every track on the album, and as a result Almanac is lonely and distant. Minimal components contribute to a solemn sound with only two current members, guitarist and vocalist Molly Hamilton and guitarist Robert Earl Thomas.

Monogamously linked with Captured Tracks (Beach Fossils, Thieves Like Us) for all releases thus far, Widowspeak’s Almanac dulls in pace compared to their varietal self-titled debut in 2011. It is mellow and relaxing music, but to say that Almanac is much more than a pleasant backdrop to a summer park lay would be an idealist’s stretch. It is music for the slow livin’, the listeners craving uncomplicated elements- a gentle, pretty sound. The lyrics do illuminate some complexity in Widowspeak’s music, albeit hard to accurately make out through Hamilton’s atmospheric, winding voice. “Ballad of the Golden Hour” sings vaguely of a somber end, “He tells the time trailing from my eyes, we can never stay forever, we were destined to grow cold.” They continue in “The Dark Age” with the repeating line, “Keep me here, in the dark with you, keep me here, in the dark with you.” “Storm King” concludes the album with cryptic monotones, a slow minor key and a noticeable lack of rhythm.

Almanac was recorded in a Hudson River Valley barn, a definite factor in the group’s wilderness melody sound. Widowspeak can be praised for their dreamy vibe and subtle technique as well as their deservedly gold combination of distorted guitar riffs and wispy viola vocals. The finished album, however, falls very short of something spectacular. It incites a longing for something, however the lack of specific memories is all too distracting from the group’s humble intentions. The 1960’s-esque pop riff track “Sore Eyes” is pleasant but also a clear example of evoking aimless nostalgia within its listeners. The music fails to enable the emotions we crave to daydream about while listening to a spacey, downtempo indie ballad. Its morose simplicity dulls even the most creatively dark lyrics.

Widowspeak gained popularity in a relatively short amount of time with the 2011 singles “Gun Shy”, “Harsh Realm” (featured in TV series American Horror Story) and an on-point rendition of Chris Issak’s “Wicked Games”. Perhaps a steadier rise in exposure is what a young band needs to discover and explore one unique sound; Widowspeak hasn’t found their thing yet, but they might be meandering there slowly, soft after lonely after simple single again.

Widowspeak – Almanac  tracklist:

1. “Perennials”
2. “Dyed in the Wool”
3. “The Dark Age”
4. “Thick as Thieves”
5. “Almanac”
6. “Ballad of the Golden Hour”
7. “Devil Knows”
8. “Sore Eyes”
9. “Locusts”
10. “Minnewaska”
11. “Spirit is Willing”
12. “Storm King”

Holy Fire is nothing like anything from Foals so far. Lead vocalist, Yannis Philippakis, told NME that the album would be “unashamedly funk.” There’s energy, harshness and organic complexity, but be warned, this is no casual listen to tackle day-to-day tedium with. This album is something to experience as it blooms. Like the biological complexity of a flower, the track listing is structured strategically, delivering experiential music in the most efficient way possible.

“Prelude,” the first track on the album, does it’s job perfectly. Like any intro, overture or prelude should, it sums up the themes of what we are about to experience. It begins with silence, slowly building up to keyboard tinkering, then the drums,  and on. The whole track evolves and changes growing in complexity with each new layer added on top of the next. Ranging from ambient electro, primitive percussive beats, simple keyboard chords, danceable funk and heavy, clanking hard rock throwback, the mural that Foals paint covers many musical subjects.

“Prelude” promises that listeners will hear something that evolves and shape shifts.

The highlight of the album, “Inhaler,” opens with the aforementioned danceable funk,  with an exotic clinking of the marimba. It’s the perfect example of the evolutionary song. It begins, and carries throughout, the funk elements, but builds on top of those with roaring guitar and intense drum bashing nostalgic of ’70’s rock ‘n’ roll. The sound brings up one image, an angry introvert, who needs to dance something out. It somehow blends deliberate dance beats with a rage-filled melody, but there is a lot going on, and this makes it difficult to enjoy fully.  In stark contrast, “My Number” is a triumphant fanfare devoted to the funk aspect of the album. The message is clear, “I’m free, and don’t need anybody to live life.” The whole album follows a sort of pattern of a track with heavy dark feeling, followed by an uplifting, lighter track.

It only takes “Bad Habit” eight seconds to change from what at first appears to be an “in-your-face” electronic rocker, to a pleading power ballad. Again, so much is going instrumentally  that Philippakis’s vocals take a disappointing backseat, requiring a few listens to get the lyrics across to the listener. “Everytime” kicks-off with a waterfall-like effect from the guitar. The brief calm is interrupted by the clanking bass with the cowbell, which suddenly drops off and the vocals begin with a strangely warm vibe, as if beckoning someone to dance, and be easy. “Through the night that sounds great. I know it’ll be OK, just come this way.”

There’s always that one track that you never can quite place. Milk & Black Spiders is just that; hard to place. The first sounds are similar to something heard on an 8-bit videogame, but ever consistent, the song blossoms into something more. The string orchestra lifts the energy into a whole different sphere than any other track does. It definitely reaches back to earlier works by the band.  Perhaps one of the most climatic and poignant moments on the album is reached during the frantic crescendo of every instrument that finally erupts into sustained string chords that cut through the air, and land gently on top of everything else going on.

Listeners travel to a dance hall in the ’50s just for a moment while Philippakis’s vocals warble through a filter that make the whole track seem distant.

Eventually, the vocals jump out, disturbing a dreamy daze and pushing into feverish tarantella of music. “I’m an animal, just like you” echoes on and on, even in the restrained moments of the song. It’s brings out the sexy and the edgy, and eventually the chaos takes over like a beast with it’s own mind. Stepson is the yin to this yang, with a simple pitter-tap of the drums and the even simpler chords on the keyboard.

The finale, Moon, is the crowning jewel. Although fairly unrecognized for what it is so far, Moon epitomizes every element, lyric and idea in the album. The track is about the conflict of the day ending as the moon rises. This whole time listeners were in the middle of a conflict between the funk and the rage, between the ambient  and the energetic, between the natural and the electronic, between the difficult and the danceable. The whole album is fast-paced, almost schizophrenic-paced, but it ends up creating a journey with a beautiful ending.

Foals – Holy Fire tracklist:

1. “Prelude”
2. “Inhaler”
3. “My Number”
4. “Bad Habit”
5. “Everytime”
6. “Late Night”
7. “Out of the Woods”
8. “Milk & Black Spiders”
9. “Providence”
10. “Stepson”
11. “Moon”

On their second full-length release, London’s co-ed quartet Veronica Falls have successfully avoided the dreaded sophomore slump, for the most part. Such a stellar debut was a tough act to follow, and there’s no “shock of the new” on Waiting For Something To Happen, but their songwriting skill and musical confidence have strengthened nonetheless.

In fact, newness was never their strong suit— the group’s songs are so pure and to the point, it becomes difficult to distance them from their inspirations, and at times it’s hard to see Veronica Falls as more than just an assemblage of their influences. Upon first listen, many critics lumped them into the bands inspired by the seminal C86 collection released by UK music periodical New Musical Express (most apparently The Shop Assistants and The Pastels). But in interviews, the group’s members were quick to distance themselves from that source of inspiration, pointing more towards American indie-pop like Beat Happening and New Zealand’s The Chills and The Clean, and are clear that they never compose songs aimed at sounding “like this” or “like that.”

Just as on their eponymous debut, this baker’s dozen features three part harmonies led by guitarist Roxanne Clifford’s helium-fueled, honey-soaked soprano, strong tenor backing vocals from guitarist James Hoare (Your Twenties) and drummer Patrick Doyle (who was in Sexy Kids with Clifford), and muscular but subtle bass parts from the last piece of their puzzle, Marion Herbain.  While it may seem like an apocryphal story to “twee” indie-pop afficcianados, it is in fact true that the Clifford and Doyle first met Hoare at a concert by England’s Comet Gain.

Highlights include the darkly brooding “If You Still Want Me,” the electric squall of feedback that kicks off the radiant onslaught of lava that follows in the single “My Heart Beats,” the slower vocal ballad “Daniel” and the delicate cuteness of the lyrics that begin “Shooting Star.” Their increase in confidence is marked by a differentiation away from the somewhat “twee” and fey debut (not to say wimpy) and there are some downright rocking moments, especially on the concluding cut, “Last Conversation,” wherein they evoke the chiming guitar underpinnings of The Wedding Present.

Veronica Falls have also moved away from singing about ghosts and graveyards, and seem to have a shinier happier, less “goth” and more “pop” approach on this collection.  Having said that, there are broken hearts aplenty here, and “Buried Alive” begs its target to “bury me alive, I want to get sick, I want to catch everything you’ve ever caught,” but they are framed in such an tongue-in-cheek, upbeat, giddy fashion, thankfully the foursome are hard to misinterpret as goth kids this time around.  Given that their closest musical antecedent is really The Mamas And The Papas, if the first record’s touchstone was “A Hazy Shade Of Winter” then perhaps Waiting’s is “California Dreamin.’” It’s a subtle difference to be sure, but a change nonetheless.

Compared to what was close to a perfect first record, Waiting For Something To Happen is not without its weaknesses. The group disregards the old industry adage to kick off the running order with their best track, and lead with the by-the-numbers weakest link, “Tell Me,” which quickly wears out its cloying welcome. Towards the end of the album, “Falling Out” and “So Tired” kind of blend together. Although the songs might be stronger on this outing, somehow they don’t stand up as well to repeated listens; perhaps Waiting For Something To Happen just shouldn’t happen on repeat too much. After all, just like the “Broken Toy” Clifford sings about on one track, the novelty can’t help but wear off after so many spins, especially when the music is so retrolicious at the outset.

Veronica Falls – Waiting for Something to Happen tracklist:

1. “Tell Me”
2. “Teenage”
3. “Broken Toy”
4. “Shooting Star”
5. “Waiting for Something to Happen”
6. “If You Still Want Me”
7. “My Heart Beats”
8. “Everybody’s Changing”
9. “Buried Alive”
10. “Falling Out”
11. “So Tired”
12. “Daniel”
13. “Last Conversation”

Unknown Mortal Orchestra has a sound that reaches into the past and their second album, the aptly named II, is a step in a grainier and groovier direction. There is still an ever-present, glowing reverb and lo-fi sheen reflecting off their music, but what separates II is heavier, catchy hooks, and jazz phrasings that thoughtfully dance through psychedelic movements. The flange soaked solos and driving, repetitive beats of UMO that have often merited the label of psychedelic rock, however the radical shifts in style throughout II throw any distinction to the curb.

The beginning acoustic melody of “From the Sun,” the first track off II, makes for an oddly sun-soaked nod to violence in the harmonized phrase “Isolation can put a gun in your hand… if you need to, you can get away from the sun, you can get away from the sun”. The melody gets an immediate jolt into much livelier territory where the three-piece gets to show off their inner good-vibes, despite singing “I’m so lonely, I’m gonna eat my popcorn alone” – poor guy!

“So Good at Being in Trouble” is but another shift of sound on II– and it’s one toward the downright sexy. This slow moving tune is dripped in the honey-sweet falsetto harmonizing of writer/guitarist Ruban Nielson and drummer Riley Geare. The guys croon “You’re so good at being in trouble,” and the song rings with a classic R&B feel.

Unknown Mortal Orchestra has tinges of psychedelia, but at any moment it’s hard to pin down where these influences are coming to fruition.

Little teases of textured noise (See “No Need for a Leader” or “Monki”), the spacey instrumental “Dawn,” and the unique phrasing of Nelsons’ solos that accentuate the odder parts of the melody (“From the Sun”) all point toward the psychedelic, though the songs never break into the territory of the truly weird.
“One at a Time” is a funky-step up from the beginning of II, blasting brass sections included. Where much of the album is distant sounding with an underwater gloss, “One at a Time” is in your face and has a heavier bass and guitar that both cry with Wah-effects. The chorus is equally prominent, and sounds like a nugget from a 1970’s rock song.

Nielsons’ punk days with the Mint Chicks come through with short and impactful songwriting but Unknown Mortal Orchestra stirs things up with odd structures that only sparingly hover into the verse-chorus-verse-chorus-solo-fade-out format, and when it does, it is done oh-so-well. The off-kilter textures blended into organic songwriting make II an LP all onto itself, and set Unknown Mortal Orchestra apart from their contemporaries.

Unknown Mortal Orchestra – II tracklist:

1. “From the Sun”
2. “Swim and Sleep (Like a Shark)”
3. “So Good at Being in Trouble”
4. “One at a Time”
5. “The Opposite of Afternoon”
6. “No Need for a Leader”
7. “Monki”
8. “Dawn”
9. “Faded in the Morning”
10. “Secret Xtians”

Heartbreak, inevitably, turns into self-analysis. For songwriters, that turn can be startling and preemptive of idiosyncratic, innovative death. Yet the desire to be cuckolded produces just as dire diminishing returns, as it becomes clear to the listener that whatever rock star is trying to tell you he’s unlucky at love is at best trying to relive former miseries, at worst lying through his teeth.

Which is to say Frightened Rabbit and its songwriter Scott Hutchinson have had a bit of a hill to climb since their first two angst-driven Scottish long players. Both Sing The Greys and Midnight Organ Fight traded on dangerous, intimate storytelling that swung to the band’s momentous favor by lower case indie rock rhythm section precision. They were as unforgiving as colleagues Twilight Sad or We Were Promised Jetpacks, yet as alive and of an indie moment as the Yeah Yeah Yeahs; from all indications, Frightened Rabbit’s third record was the logical next step to superstardom. By pedigree and soundtrack-ready sonic attractiveness alone, Frightened Rabbit could’ve been Death Cab For Cutie with a foul-mouthed streak.

Could’ve being the operative word there. Winter of Mixed Drinks was as messy a beginning to second generation Frightened Rabbit as Transatlanticism was a career launching effort for Death Cab. Some of the Hutchinson’s best songs are on Mixed Drinks (“Nothin’ Like You,” “Not Miserable”), yet the record was bogged down by the band’s desire to deepen and amplify their sound when percussion was doing just fine. Hutchinson’s yowl became a choral belt; guitars became seas of noise. Most of what succeeded on Mixed Drinks was due to the band’s remarkable pop sensibility.

So, one false commercial start into their uppercase Indie Rock career, Frightened Rabbit Atlantic Records debut, Pedestrian Verse is not the returned to rawness many would hope for. Instead, it’s a refinement of a certain kind of populist misery the band were already diving into with their appetite whetting State Hospital EP. Oceans of noise still swaddle Hutchinson’s verse, but there’s a welcome reintroduction of Grant Hutchinson-led rhythm section on the heartily backboned “The Woodpile.” Hutchinson just barely on the right side of too cute wordplay is still at “Square 9” levels – one can probably guess what turn of phrase he employs to cutesy climax on “Holy.” And while so much has remained the same, there’s a synthetic double bass beefing up the scant but stellar “Housing (In)” that reminds listeners that Frightened Rabbit, like their ancestors in Death Cab, don’t worry about the consequences of adding to their formula.

Yet listening to “Nitrous Gas,” a gorgeous bit of neutered, electric “Poke” impressionism, Hutchinson’s knifing verse still hits hard. His couplets obfuscate a bit more than necessary – “suck in the bright red major key / spit out the blue minor misery / I’m dying to bring down with me” – he still knows when to hit and hit hard. The album’s stand out first single “Dead Now” ends with such a raw wallop of a verse it’s hard to accept Hutchinson has taken any steps back with his songwriting voice at any point – “There’s something wrong with me / and it reads nothing like poetry / so will you love me in spite of these ticks and inconsistencies / as there’s something wrong with me.” It’s not a high-angst of something like “It takes more than fucking someone to keep yourself warm,” but it’s a symbiosis of self-healing and vitriol that walks a neat tight rope, one Ben Gibbard never really had in anything more that sputtering flashes.

Pedestrian Verse actually resembles Tranatlanticism in a few important ways – it is a relatively successfully move to larger sonics than would be recommended of indie rock bands such as this. It also introduces Frightened Rabbit to a predictably wider audience in very accessible yet artistic ways. This isn’t a jump to lightspeed reinvention for the sake of major label backing like fun.’s Some Nights. It’s more a gentle welcoming to the thematic realities Hutchinson and Frightened Rabbit inhabit – misery, well-placed but not cloying self-acceptance, and brogues. Frightened Rabbit aren’t ever going back to what they were, yet it is encouraging to watch the band figure out what part of the second wave of their career works best for them.

Frightened Rabbit – Pedestrian Verse tracklist:

1. “Acts of Man”
2. “Backyard Skulls”
3. “Holy”
4. “The Woodpile”
5. “Late March, Death March”
6. “December’s Traditions”
7. “Housing (In)”
8. “Dead Now”
9. “State Hospital”
10. “Nitrous Gas”
11. “Housing (Out)”
12. “The Oil Slick”

It is often in our nature to compare as a means of understanding. We explain something by identifying things that are most similar, and the specific ways in which they are neighbors. In the case of music: How does Santigold’s newest album compare to MIA’s catalogue of music? Who does Beach House sound like more- Mazzy Star or The xx?

What if instead we started from scratch as writers and eliminated these comparisons for the sake of an artist who strives from the drawing board to be who he/she is- nobody else. And although the “similar artists” topic is almost ingrained in the act of writing for a large audience, England’s relatively new musical trio Darkstar motivates the elimination of artist comparisons in music journalism. I could say that Darkstar carries traces of The Flaming Lips, Sigur Ros, CANT and Animal Collective, but that statement would do injustice to their intentions, and is to some degree a lazy method of describing music. The truth is there is absolutely nothing like the music enclosed in News From Nowhere, the group’s latest and most unique sound adventure.

Hailing from Northern England, founding members James Young and Aiden Whalley began their signed careers first with their own label 2010 then with the UK dubstep label Hyperdub (Kode9, Burial, Zomby). There they released their first LP North (2010), a darker and more introspective sound than what’s inside 2013’s News From Nowhere (Warp). Darkstar now has a third member and vocalist James Buttery. Opening track “Light Body Clock Starter” introduces us to the album with a ghostly and incessant reverb- one that immediately drives us to an emotional moment, before abruptly cutting to silence. With that they begin an all-star lineup of tracks, ranging in style from spacey variations on pop to subtle electronic jams- all of which leave listeners in slight melancholy and wonder.

Darkstar sounds like an electrohead who’s found his niche, having grown up and into his thoughts on music. It contains all the elements of an experimental genre: playing with synths and sounds, creating warps and repetitions, mixing melodies and effects in ways that we don’t recognize. Though through all these innovative tactics, they manage to create harmonious, calming arrangements. The vocals and strings in “Hold Me Down” take turns in motion, weaving together the oscillating waves of synth and reverb bubbles. Darkstar builds an atmosphere like none other. “You Don’t Need a Weatherman” is the best track on the album, and it is because of a perfect combination of these otherwise independently described qualities: major-key melodies, chaotic but well-timed beats, intense crescendos and atmospheric intrigue. Cycling chimes and abstract folly carry over into the ominous but never sullen “Amplified Ease.” The group then simplifies for the 1950’s prompop-esque “A Day’s Pay For a Day’s Work,” and their variety and potential have officially presented themselves.

Original members Young and Whalley both studied audio post-production in the mid 2000’s, which explains the exploratory but never lost nature of their music. Science fiction film sound design influenced much of their first album, whereas this release seems to enjoy the company of chords and vocals a bit more. For a trip back to Darkstar’s glitch and computer effects sound, check out their first single “Aidy’s Girl is A Computer” and their warped cover of Radiohead’s “Videotape.” News From Nowhere makes its official release on February 5^th.

Darkstar – News From Nowhere  tracklist:

1. “Light Body Clock Starter”
2. Timeaway”
3. “Armonica”
4. “-“
5. “A Day’s Pay For A Day’s Work”
6. “Young Hearts”
7. “Amplified Ease”
8. “You Don’t Need A Weatherman”
9. “Bed Music – North View”
10. “Hold Me Down”

British electronic jack-of-all-trades Gold Panda claims the titles of composer, performer and producer with his glittery style and blip beats. The ambient electronica star’s nomadic upbringing and diverse interests—from his London birthplace to place of study in Japan— led to a large expanse of influences.

Gold Panda has been cranking out a flurry of EP’s along with the occasional album or two, but brevity has become his unofficial forte. His synthesized acrobats create a serene backdrop that has ushered back an unassuming wave of relaxation to the EDM community.

“Trust” is a tin can kick intro with some dragging chimes accumulating the souring metallic feel of the track.  As the beats compound into an unsettling mishmash, hollow pipes ground the song and thankfully restrain any wayward hooks lurking in the white noise shadows. The song eventually finds firm footing as it slaps on a jazzy groove and adopts a smoky exterior. The development leaves the listener waiting for the tension to mount and eventually dive roll into some kind of enveloping hook, but plateaus in a forgettable haze

Trust finally seems to have found its kick in “Burnt-Out Car In A Forest,” possessing some (but still not much) urgency. The pots ‘n pans clatter of the driving beat and some dulled hand claps at least harness some attention. The track coasts through six minutes, barely taking advantage of its ample incubation time. The most satisfying mark is near the halfway point where the tempo attempts to die down into a flighty rut. The humming pipes and prickling chimes add some uncharacteristic depth, but still doesn’t reveal anything. The final minutes dwindle away in an attempt of propped pacing and false hope for the listener.

The final track “Casyam_59#02” is the most satisfying of the bunch, throwing in some pensive keys with the strobing synths. Shunning the masturbatory showmanship of many DJ’s that have dulled the cultural acidity of the EDM movement, Gold Panda sticks with his ability to harness simplicity and mold it into a stark hook; this track remains his greatest success in the entire body of work.

Trust doesn’t reveal anything new from Gold Panda and seems to be poised as a catalog item that will later employ the support of a creative crutch. It approaches some exciting uncharted waters, but never manages to take the awaited plunge. The four ailing tracks leave plenty to be desired while still racking up some forgiveness from understanding listeners. Trust is so painfully average that it underwhelms without offending and dissatisfies though still intriguing.

Gold Panda – Trust tracklist:

1. “Trust Intro”
2. “Trust”
3. “Burnt-Out Car in a Forest”
4. “Casyam_59#02”

Seeing how much fun Julia Massey and her band mates have, it’s hard to imagine that this band does anything but write and perform music for their personal joy. Their natural chemistry suggests that when they play music, they are doing just that; playing. Though ranging in age from later twenties to early thirties, the three members, Julia Massey, Geoff Gibbs, and Dominic Cortese, seem to approach their music with the natural excitement of children heading to recess. The result of this recent year-long recess is “Five Letters From Far Away”, an 11-track collection that is an exercise in the balance of peaks and valleys, sorrows and joys.

Kick-off track “Top 100” is as joyful as it gets. Starting with quick tinkering piano, Massey suggests that her listeners take a break from “the age of information” and appreciate what is in front of us and what we may be missing due to preoccupation with the future. The song is a light, quick sled ride, riding a very catchy melody in the verse.

“Marquee Malarky” is the first song on the album to bring the mood down a bit, opening with the lines “In the gentle arms of sleep, I buried you deep down.” Like all of Massey’s best songs, even the bummer tunes with the deeper message offer a silver lining. The moral of this story is “We don’t need a bit of praise to know that we’re okay. Know that you’re okay”. She has a way of driving important life lessons home through her unique and soothing voice, even if she’s telling her listeners something they aren’t ready to accept.

“Don’t Worry Bout Us” is the most fun the rhythm section of Gibbs (bass) and Cortese (drums) get to have on the record, especially in the breakdown around the 3-minute mark. When Gibbs plays less reserved, his talents as an above and beyond bassist really shine through, perfectly exemplified in the fantastic groove he and Cortese create toward the song’s end.

If “Don’t Worry Bout Us” is the highest high, then “Song Of The Dying” is the lowest low. With no cheery piano to rely on, Massey gets deeply personal. She sings a song about a young girl with an old soul that learns of death early on by asking innocent questions. Only a few years later, she tries to apply the answers to the passing of her mother, “as you kiss your old body goodbye, and hello, and goodbye.” The song is a rerecording of a song Massey wrote and recorded five years ago as a solo artist. The first version is just Massey and an acoustic guitar, and she sings hauntingly and beautifully. While the modern version finds its place on this album, it loses the delicate vulnerability gorgeously presented from the original in overproduction.

Five Letters From Far Away is JMFFD’s third release in only three years, and this album picks up where the last, “Is Their Room For Me?”, leaves off; gracefully transitioning from light and joyful to deep and reflective. When the band is taken at face value for their hooks and melodies, it’s easy to overlook the darker lyrics and subject matters. Under the surface level image of three ageless musicians at play, Julia Massey and The Five Finger Discount is not afraid to tackle more serious subject matters and share their wisdom; to which we should all listen.

Julia Massey and The Five Finger Discount – Five Letters from Far Away tracklist:

1. “TOP 100”
2. “Orbiter”
3. “Sri Ma”
4. “Marquee Malarky”
5. “Don’t Worry ‘Bout Us”
6. “Back Door Open”
7. “Song of the Dying”
8. “Who Silently Suffers?”
9. “There Is a Song”
10. “OUTRO”
11. “Here Is a Stone Wall”

After making a splash with his watercolor synth strokes and decadent beats, Chazwick Bundick, better known by his stage name Toro Y Moi, is releasing his third album, just one year after his last release. Bundick is no stranger to testing the musical waters. He’s already reissued a collection of seedy twee pop and performed swirling electro beats under the moniker Les Sins.

The musician,producer and instrumental is ushering in the chillwave movement and isn’t afraid to shed his indie skin in favor of pop inclinations. Anything In Return boasts a plethora of ‘80s aesthetic in its endless supply of sugary pop chants. This is no vain lunge toward the mainstream though, as the album manages to maintain integrity with Bundick’s proud indie stamp on every one of the thirteen tracks.

“Harm in Change” serves as Bundick’s statement of intent, which is that he’s here to reclaim pop music as we know it.

From dense overdubs to gleeful hand claps, everything listeners have grown to detest in pop music is rightfully rejuvenated. The pulse tripping intro, smearing layer after thumping layer on top of a syrupy drum groove, tumbles into a seductive call and response.

The opener is followed by an album highlight and one of the its pulsing lead singles. “Say That” will without a doubt become an indie staple for the year, with its echoic verses to the club rail chorus. Begging for a deliberate, approving head bob, and maybe even a piercing fist in the air, the earworm of its groove is relentless. The track remains true to Bundick’s chillwave roots, but imposes just enough to be remembered.

“Touch,” the briefest of the album’s tracks, begins with a spare instrumental introduction that could have been pulled from Flying Lotus outtakes. The cool ambiance is a startling halt from the electric snowball that rolls so steadily for a glorious run of tracks. Bundick picks up the pace at the near-half with falsetto-stretching “Studies.” Meandering through trilling guitar picks and dashes of Tame Impala-like psychedelia, mad scientist and groove child Bundick pulls out all the stops with fantastic results.

The album trips on speckled synth jabs and lackadaisical vocals in “High Living.” Bundick’s voice delves into velvety valleys, but approaches father-knows-best crooner territory as he shrugs through the refrain, “She’ll be living high / She’ll be living low / She can live it either way / I don’t think she knows.”

With each falter (of which there are few), though, Bundick manages to top himself with yet another staggeringly melody or beautifully simple hook. Allow “Cake” to pose as the case in point. Its dazzling compound of strong back beats with pliable synths envelope the lyrics in a wonderfully conflicted disguise. The lyrics “I can’t be going up to this girl, no / When I look at her she’s all I wanted” seal the song with a bitter kiss, forcing the listener into Bundick’s world of plug-in baby pain.

The album ties up ties up loose ends and tightens up the hefty, thirteen track body of work with “How’s It Wrong,” a synth-wheezing ditty that pulls at the common threads of the album. Bundick squelches every last lyric and groove from his creative inventory,  pouring it into this glimmering fight between reconciliation and reality. The track ends with thirty seconds of aural flourishes, gently nudging listeners out of the technicolor world Bundick has so painstakingly created.

What could have morphed into a gummy electro-pop Frankenstein is instead the crowning jewel of Bundick’s career as Toro Y Moi.

Bunwick has struck the perfect balance between Top 100 and indie; a stiff straddle, indeed, but an overall resounding success. Despite some glitter-clad hiccups, Anything In Return proves that innovation isn’t necessarily the invention itself; it’s the new interpretations, the unexpected impressions–it’s reinvention.

Toro Y Moi – Anything In Return tracklist:

1. “Harm in Change”
2. “Say That”
3. “So Many Details”
4. “Rose Quartz”
5. “Touch”
6. “Cola”
7. “Studies”
8. “High Living”
9. “Grown Up Calls”
10. “Cake”
11. “Day One”
12. “Never Matter”
13. “How’s It Wrong”

Substance versus style is an age old debate going back somewhere near the dawn of time. It all probably started back when some flashy kid named Icarus decided that he only cared about looking cool, flew too close to the sun, got burnt, and ended up smashed on the rocks below. This debate continues, and it’s one of the major dynamics alive both in this album and A$AP Rocky’s young hip-hop career.

If there’s one thing you can say about Rakim Mayers, better known as A$AP Rocky, it’s that he’s got style. The stelf-stylized “pretty motherfucker” knows how to dress, knows how to look good, knows how to sound good, and wants you to know about it. He raps about it or at least mentions it in nearly every song on this album and his 2011 breakout mixtape Live. Love. A$AP. It’s his gimmick, his schtick, as it were. It’s what he’s known for. He’s also known for picking some of the most interesting beats of any MC out there. Live. Love. A$AP was filled with quality beat after quality beat. Five of them coming from underrated underground producer Clams Casino. These beats provided a depth to each song that you’d be hard to find in A$AP’s actual lyrics. His rhymes were more of a gloss that put that final sheen on everything and made it look like a million bucks.

In this long-awaited follow up that just doesn’t feel like the case. Most of the beats are once again very solid platforms with a lot of depth for listeners to dive right into. Especially the two tracks provided by beat prodigy Hit-Boy, “1 Train” and the monster first-single “Goldie.” It makes you wonder if Hit-Boy has any clue how to make an uninteresting beat. Other tracks provided by the likes of wonder producer Danger Mouse and Skrillex add an interesting mix of soundscapes you just don’t find on most hip-hop albums. Clams Casino’s two tracks that come one right after the other on the album, “LVL” and “Hell,” are both very good by normal standards, but feel somewhat simple when compared to earlier work from the producer. The album has a very enjoyable overall sound and musical flow, but definitely isn’t as interesting or as fun as Live. Love. A$AP. Which is why you’d expect something else like A$AP’s lyric’s to pickup the slack of the album.

But, it’s really the lyrics where this train just seems to come off the proverbial tracks. A$AP references two of the most creative and influential MCs to ever put rhymes together, Andre 3000 and Ol’ Dirty Bastard. The former he name drops in the tracks “Wild for the Night” and the bonus track “Ghetto Symphony.” The latter is referenced in the title track and the second single “Fuckin’ Problems” by his use of ODB’s famous phrase “shimmy, shimmy ya.” If what he’s trying to do is put himself in that accomplished pantheon of hip-hop he’s got a lot more work to do, and he’s going to have to become more than a one track pony continually rapping about the same topic, how good he looks, over and over again. There’s so much self-aggrandizing of his own fashion and style that it’s hard to even take him serious on tracks like “Phoenix” where he delves deeper into the hard life he had growing up in Harlem. On Hit-Boy’s second addition to this album, the classically fresh sounding “1 Train”, A$AP breaks one of the unwritten rules of hip-hop. When someone out raps you on your own beat normally you try to stop that from ever seeing the light of day. A$AP actually lets 6 MCs do this with 6 consecutive versus from these MCs: Kendrick Lamar, Joey Bada$$, Yelawolf, Danny Brown, Action Bronson, and a thoroughly impressive verse from Big K.R.I.T. to cap it off. By the end of the song you’ve completely forgotten A$AP was even on the track at all. Maybe these are signs of inexperience, but being a one-topic pony and getting severely out classed on your own songs does not make someone the “trillest.” (Trill is a combination of the words true and real, and A$AP’s favorite term for himself.)

There’s a track on the album, the second single, “Fuckin’ Problems,” that features four of the current age of hip-hop’s top players in the game, A$AP, Drake, 2 Chainz, and the young rising supernova Kendrick Lamar. The track kind of shines as a glaring example of what hip-hop is and most likely where it’s headed. Drake is there bragging about sleeping with more chicks, 2 Chainz is yelling an ignorantly clever yet somewhat funny hook, A$AP is once again discussing how good he looks, and Kendrick, nowhere near at the top of his craft, completely out classes everyone else on the track like he was just taking the day off and decided to murder some beats for sport. You can almost hear the laugh in his voice from the first line. “Yeah ho, this is the finale. My pep talk turn into a pep rally.” As if to say, subtly, “You’ve just heard them rap, and this is what I’m up against in the hip-hop game? I got this.”

It seems very clear to me that if A$AP wants to truly be the legend he keeps saying he is then he needs to take some notes from his friend Mr. Lamar on wordplay, entendre, and metaphor. Nobody has a better ear for hot beats or as cool a style, but those things only get someone so far, and without better raps he’ll just be left smashed on the rocks below like some other flashy kid who thought he was flyer than he really was.

A$AP Rocky Long. Live. A$AP Tracklisting:

1. “Love Live A$AP”
2. “Goldie”
3. “PMW (All I Really Need)” (feat. Schoolyboy Q)
4. “LVL”
5. “Hell” (feat. Santigold)
6. “Pain” (feat. OverDoz)
7. “Fuckin’ Problems” (feat. Drake, 2 Chainz, and Kendrick Lamar)
8. “Wild for the Night” (feat. Skrillex and Birdy Nam Nam)
9. “1 Train” (feat. Kendrick Lamar, Joey Bada$$, YelaWolf, Danny Brown, Action Bronson, and Big K.R.I.T.)
10. “Fashion Killa”
11. “Phoenix”
12. “Suddenly”
13. “Jodye”
14. “Ghetto Symphony” (feat. Gunplay and A$AP Ferg)
15. “I Come Apart” (feat. Florence Welch)

Seizing a hard fought break from recording since 2009’s Popular Songs, Yo La Tengo is ready to break the frames of indie-rock that they built themselves. The Hoboken-based indie rock trio has kicked out a thirteenth studio album after a staggering thirty years together. Harkening back to the thematically tragic I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One, YLT is channeling their ‘90s doom-ridden selves for a new reckoning.

The 10-track album is taking full advantage of the group’s dabbling in soundtrack composition and rings with instrumental drive. Leaning toward the bare bones and shoegaze aspects of their sound, the trio treads on some uncommon ground in this clock-kicking release.

“Ohm” wheels in at nearly eight minutes and serves as a laboring opener. Melodic guitars chirp through a jungle of shakers and walloping percussion. Ira Kaplan’s rich vocals smatter over the trademark YLT composition and stirs a thick brew of plateaued—albeit catchy—hooks and a muscled-up, vibrato-smacked guitar solo. While the song itself is perfectly passable, it becomes trapped in an atonal roundabout, leaving listeners eyeing the exit halfway in.

Fade continues its eddying journey with “Is That Enough,” which begins with a chirpy piano intro and woolly guitars slicing right through any slap cheek optimism. The likely couple of Kaplan and Georgia Hubley’s harmonies and soaring strings completely offsets the harshness of the lo-fi guitar lingering in the background. You’d almost want to sing along with the alt-rock couple if the song wasn’t so unsettlingly delicate. This is just one of many instances that enforces the nearly unsettling juxtaposition that YLT has trademarked—it’s startling and discomforting and completely unprecedented.

“Paddle Forward” kicks off with some prog-rock guitar squeals and basic roars, but then launches into head rocking splendor with a fluttery riff and vocals that are more sing-song than a high school glee choir. The song has a dreary bite, though, with Hubley’s browbeaten harmonies anchoring any runaway glee. The candid cut settles at the perfect moment, at just under four minutes—one of the briefest songs of the album.

The halfway point is flagged with “Stupid Things,” which begins with a hauntingly spare guitar intro but picks up some sonic cargo on the way with thumping backbeats and a climaxing guitar. The intricate layers that at first seem doubtfully cohesive, but meld into an ebbing swell embrace Ira Kaplan’s distant drone.

The album strips down and finds surer fitting in the second half, working toward a strong finish. “I’ll Be Around” is a linear, pseudo-folk ditty that adopts some Alex Ebert vocals, with a messianic tone and campfire camaraderie feel. “Cornelia and Jane” continues down the ambient route with Hubley’s vocals thieving the spotlight with her casual smoker’s row vocals. The song flirtatiously teases peaks  and crescendos, bundling the track into a shivering coil.

After downturned strummer “The Point Of It,” Fade winds to a close with “Before We Run.” Hubley flirts with a hefty Kim Gordon husk in her voice in the 6-minute wrap-up. The time flees with the quick addition of rigid strings and belching horns. The song is grand without becoming fussy, instead mounting the drama with sonic tension and anxious trills.

Despite clocking a total of 46 minutes, Fade seems to overstay its welcome with hard-fought endings and tiresome riff raff. The album is not unlike an obligatory family vacation. No matter its duration, it’s always a day too long and the destination—however awe-inspiring—is taken for granted. Fade does prove, however, that Yo La Tengo can putty up some old tricks and tweak them into a new approach. It’s the same skeleton of shoegaze rock with some fancy frills and a smooth exterior, making it clear that the trio is ready to attack some hefty topics, like maturity and age, in a tranquil aural slush—drink up.

Yo La Tengo – Fade tracklist:

1. “Ohm”
2. “Is That Enough”
3. “Well You Better”
4. “Paddle Forward”
5. “Stupid Things”
6. “I’ll Be Around”
7. “Cornelia and Jane”
8. “Two Trains”
9. “The Point Of It”
10. “Before We Run”