Pop 'stache

Is it just us or are we hearing the word “rad” being thrown out more often in casual conversation? And since when do a couple of boys from Eel Pie Island in West London get off by entitling their fourth LP, Radlands, with the West Coast youth’s most venerated word? (Or maybe they’re just sticking it to the Boss on this one.) Regardless, Radlands stacks a whole lot upon Mystery Jet’s signature blissful jangle-pop heard on the group’s initial works, Making Dens and Twenty One.

Since then, Mystery Jets has made some solid efforts to further obscure their sound from the barrier of clanging Fender guitars. 2010’s Serotonin transduced the group into a soft synth-rock aesthetic. This time around, the lads uprooted themselves from London to the Lone Star State–a move that has resulted in a surprising amount of fuzzy Southern campfire ballads. (Hello, Kings of Leon!)

The “British Americana” shtick is charming, but it gets old quickly–“I’ve heard there’s a place where we go to die/ it’s a terribly overrated horseshit-shaped hole in the sky” (“Radlands”). “You Had Me At Hello” fares better, blending gut-wrenching sadness with poetic ease. “Someone Purer” is a rambunctious-rock gem with an echoing “woah-oah-ah-oah” chorus. Infectiously hook-driven, it’s about the only glimpse we get of the same band that wrote “Two Doors Down.”

The Jets sound even less pliable on the cool-hearted “Greatest Hits,” a break-up tune which finds Harrison bantering, “No way you’re having This Nation’s Saving Grace/ You only listen to it when you’re pissed, when you sober up it’s always ‘why the fuck are you still listening to Mark E Smith’. ” “The Hale Bop” dips into the Jets’ back-catalog for five seconds, flirting with disco for a few fleeting moments. Suggestive acoustic album closer “Luminescence” brings Radlands full circle; glossing over the British irony and balladry that characterizes the bulk of the record.

Great as the closer is, “Luminescence” is the light at the end of a very dark tunnel–Radlands is the least cohesive effort the Jets have put out in a very reputable career. Mystery Jets have always delivered when it came to making instantly catchy and likeable pop songs. It’s a shame just how much a geographic relocation can smother a band with plenty of potential. “It’s a new era, it’s a new band. That’s what is had to be,” says Harrison. One thing’s for certain; it’ll definitely have to be somewhere other than Texas.

Mystery Jets – Radlands tracklist:

1. “Radlands”
2. “You Had Me At Hello”
3. “Someone Purer”
4. “The Ballad of Emmerson Lonestar”
5. “Greatest Hits”
6. “The Hale Bop”
7. “The Nothing”
8. “Take Me Where the Roses Grow”
9. “Sister Everett”
10. “Lost In Austin”
11. “Luminescense”

Bristol’s Nick Talbot has been releasing music as Gravenhurst for over a decade now.  That being said, The Ghost in Daylight is his first release in half a decade.  Since 2007’s The Western Lands, Talbot has jettisoned the band with which he had toured and recorded.  On The Ghost in Daylight he melds elements of  finger-picking folk, shoegaze anddream pop as he did on his first two records.  It’s an awful quiet followup to the rock-based The Western Lands.  As the title would suggest, the songs have an ethereal quality, ranging in tone from sweet and somber to creepy and chilled.

The Ghost in Daylight starts off strong.  The opener “Circadian” and “The Prize” recall the strongest British alternative rock bands of the past two decades.  The slicing strings and romping electric guitar at the end of “The Prize” balance the acoustic tranquility of its beginning.  “The Prize” is fittingly the prize of the album.  “Fitzrovia” then hamstrings the pace set by the first two tracks with its gloomy lull of failed revolution and citizens under thumb, ending with three minutes of drizzling rain and distant train cars.

“In Miniature” is one of the sunniest tracks on an album with “daylight” in the title, though it’s pretty finger-plucked intro is quickly darkened by the tale of a forensic effort in postmortem retinal scanning.  The pointless but eerie instrumental “Carousel” feels like a camera trained on a grandfather clock face; that or a bad temple trip in the original “Legend of Zelda.”  The sparse organ and drum machine tick on “Islands” sounds like a krautrock cousin of Radiohead’s “All I Need.”

The cold isolation of “The Foundry” is one of the most affecting moments on the album.  A distorted organ and ringing keys dissolve into a melancholic acoustic guitar and the story of a white-tailed rabbit pinned against a rain fence by two black wolves.  Unfortunately, “evil” does not remain polarized for long—Talbot sings, “And you won’t know when evil comes /Evil looks just like anyone / I blame, I blame, I blame anyone but me.”  It’s a pretty grim take on society.

Although the guitar work on “Peacock” is graceful, it lacks any of the colorful vibrancy one might expect.  “The Ghost of Saint Paul” is the wispiest track on the album and employs the shy underproduction sound of early Elliott Smith.  Talbot continues his bizarrely peaceful treatment of death, fire and malice through the album’s outtro.  “Three Fires” is once again deceptively sweet, but almost immediately becomes an arsonist’s guide for children.  “All the citizens dreaming on the radio / All is quiet through the house, sound asleep now / All is quiet turn the key burn the house down.”  The album appropriately ends with an a cappella whisper.

What’s perhaps most frustrating about The Ghost in Daylight is that the majority of the songs are enjoyable, but they simply outstay their welcome.  Whether it be a few too many refrains at the ends of “The Ghost of Saint Paul” and “Three Fires” or the three-plus minutes of extraneous boredom that wrap up “Fitzrovia” and “Islands,” the album could have benefited from some careful trimming.  Other tracks like “Circadian” and “The Foundry” manage to economically cram a wealth of material into just over four minutes.

Though not as exciting as its predecessor, The Ghost in Daylight is a better than average album.  Talbot’s lyrics are as strong as ever.  The album can be uncomfortably introspective at times, but John Talbot may be sharpening the folk pencil that sketched his earlier work.  The real question is: will Gravenhurst be a musical specter for the next five years?

Gravenhurst – The Ghost in Daylight tracklist:

1.  “Circadian”
2.  “The Prize”
3.  “Fitzrovia”
4.  “In Miniature”
5.  “Carousel”
6.  “Islands”
7.  “The Foundry”
8.  “Peacock”
9.  “The Ghost of Saint Paul”
10.  “Three Fires”

In early March, Pop ‘stache covered Yellow Ostrich’s first headlining show in Chicago to a nearly packed crowd. Two days after the release of debut full-length album Strange Land, Yellow Ostrich was looking towards their hectic schedule of festival hoping. Starting off at SXSW, the trio will play Outside Lands, Lollapalooza and Sasquatch.

Front man and core member, Alex Shaaf moved to Brooklyn for his music. After releasing a critically noted EP, The Mistress, which was recorded with only a drum machine and his vocals, Schaaf brought aboard two new members to add dimension. Well-known multi-instrumentalist, Jon Natchez, and symphonic drummer, Michael Tapper, joined forces and Strange Land was born.

Opening track, “Elephant King,” introduces Shaaf’s youthful vocals and progressive melodies. A trumpet glares like a celebratory introduction, and slowly progresses until it clashes in a percussive battle. The song of struggle was formed around the idea of Schaaf’s current self and past self talking to one another.

The trumpet, among other brass and woodwind instruments, is played by multi-instrumentalist, Jon Natchez. Named indie rock’s most valuable side-man by NPR, Natchez contributes to the full-figured sound in Strange Land. In a recent interview with the public radio station, Natchez defined his involvement with acts like Beirut, The Antlers and Bishop Allen:

“I’ve always described myself as a “frosting” guy. I play mainly woodwinds — saxophone, clarinet and flute — and I’ve learned to get around on most brass instruments. I don’t really play drums or guitar very well — none of the things that bake the cake, just the ones that ice it, though I do play a little electric bass.”

The first single, “Marathon Runner,” features catchy drums, lively guitar licks and hopeful vocals. A frenzied loop pedal circles around before Schaaf’s spacious tone sets in. His lyrics are often about evolving through life, and “Marathon Runner” sticks to the theme.

“I Got No Time for You” is dark and mellow. A steady drum beat rolls in and Shaaf’s once-boyish vocals are torn with sorrow. After the last drop fell to the ground, a jolting guitar line chimes in and the drums roar, coated in cymbals. The lyric, “Things would get better” is laid down on repeat, and the vocals turn from sorrow to hopeful.

Strange Land is an eclectic indie pop wonder. Ambient tones, vibrant vocals and organic beats are processed into a tightly woven package. Alex Schaaf’s concepts of struggle and self-discovery are straight-forward and honest. He lets loose in this album, and it pays off. The Wisconsin-native bares his genuine Midwestern persona in a badass New York fashion.

Yellow Ostrich – Strange Land tracklist:

1. “Elephant King”
2. “Daughter”
3. “Marathon Runner”
4. “I Got No Time for You”
5. “Stay at Home”
6. “I Want Yr Love”
7. “The Shakedown”
8. “Wear Suits”
9. “Up in the Mountains”
10. “When All is Dead”

Bloom begins with brushes skittering across a drum head like nervous birds digging in the sand and quickly adds a repetitive bell ringing like the bell on a buoy cloaked in fog. Quickly following in the first single, “Myth,” comes the high, smooth guitar leads and pulsating keyboards. The bass drum kicks in, and then the grand entrance of the husky low alto (almost tenor) voice of Victoria Legrand makes itself heard through the rich tapestry of waves and water vapor. “Drifting in and out, see the road you’re on/You came rolling down the cheek, say just what you need/And in between, it’s never as it seems,” she sings, and then climaxes with the chorus, “Help me to make it, help me to make it.”

The guitar of Alex Scally seems to cry and sing on its own, like a mournful, lost seabird hearing its own call echoed by some abandoned theremin left to rust by the seaside. And then the vocals glide in again: “If you build yourself a myth, know just what to give/What comes after this momentary bliss/Consequence of what you do to me,” Legrand sings and again she swoops into the chorus of “Help me to make it.” Legrand’s keyboards meld into Scally’s high-pitched guitar in such a way that they seem like seamless dancers performing an elaborate ballet. Then at the end, the peaceful sound of ocean waves seems to erode the sands away.

The fourth record from Baltimore duo Beach House finds them removing layers of gauze and wooziness but adding on layers of sound and intricacy. If their previous record, the breakthrough classic Teen Dream (2010), was an exercise in wistful somnambulance, then Bloom is their rite of spring awakening. The sun is rising on the lush grass, blue wildflowers and limitless vistas in all directions, from endless prairie to unending wetlands sparkling with a rich tapestry of nature’s riches to an infinite sea that vanishes on the horizon. Even the seabirds can be heard at the beginning and end of “Other People,” a sound that “sounds like something” someone whispers, until “The Hours” ushers in its abrupt beginning with a Beach Boys-like introduction of “aaaah”s.

Throughout the running order, the constants are Legrand’s husky but powerful alto, the recombinant keyboard patterns and Scally’s soaring fretwork fireworks. If the latter tracks seem to blend together a bit, that may not be an illusion, as the record seems to be a tad front-loaded with the stronger and more distinctive compositions. But even at its most cogent and concrete, it’s hard for Beach House to keep its music from being washed away by the waves of wooziness that has always been its bread and butter.

While the group’s sound can easily be traced back to roots ranging from Nico’s The Marble Index to Kate Bush to Bel Canto to 1980s “new wave” and contemporaries such as Washed Out and Asobi Seksu (the washed away sound of “Lazuli” for example, is very reminiscent of the latest record from M83), the pair have successfully made their own name and reputation and are producing something distinct; if anything, parallel evolution is no doubt at work.

Bloom concludes with “Irene,” a music box-like spiral staircase climb that serves as a lengthy meditation on “it” being “a strange paradise,” although one is never told exactly what “it” is, nor who Irene is—Hurricane Irene, perhaps?  The track sways to and fro for more than eight minutes, but it never wears out its welcome. Then after seven minutes of silence, the listener is reawakened with a hidden meditation that seems to burst into bloom from nowhere. It’s almost as if Legrand and Scally could not decide how to end the record, so it ends with “no end in sight” and begins to fade as the last chorus emanates breathily from Legrand: “Wherever you go.” In this way it creates a wonderful loop back to the beginning and encourages listening on repeat.

Beach House – Bloom tracklist:

1. “Myth”
2. “Wild”
3. “Lazuli”
4. “Other People”
5. “The Hours”
6. “Troublemaker”
7. “New Year”
8. “Wishes”
9. “On the Sea”
10. “Irene”

It’s been said that you can never truly hate something as much as someone that loves it. You can be disappointed by a band’s album, but not to same degree as someone who adores said act. It is with this mindset, and with the bands iconic logo carved into my arm, that I had to approach Hot Water Music’s first new album in eight years, Exister.

Through its lengthy career Hot Water Music went through various stylistic changes. Its early years drew heavily on hardcore bands such as a Fuel (the California hardcore band, not the alternative rock band of the same name) showing potential all along the way. It eventually delivered on this with a string of powerful releases between 1997 and 1999, cementing the group as one of post-hardcore’s most passionate acts.

But as all things eventually do, the group began to change. It signed to punk rock powerhouse Epitaph Records, and slowly the band’s sound streamlined into a poppier, more accessible punk sound. This was by no means a bad thing, as the three full-lengths that bared the Epitaph logo ranged from enjoyable to great. However, after the release of 2004’s The New What Next the band went on a hiatus before eventually disbanding. The members carried on in their own direction before reuniting in 2008 for some Hot Water Music shows.

Last year the group released a 7-inch of new material, signaling that after three years back together, new songs were surfacing. The Fire, the Steel, the Tread showed Chuck Ragan’s work as a folk artist bleeding into Hot Water Music, while the Chris Wollard led “Up to Nothing” showed the band still had the ability to write energetic anthems.

But Exister was the real test. Could the members of Hot Water Music produce a full-length that channeled all the energy and passion the band had in its earlier days? While not doing so entirely, Hot Water Music proved that even as the members age, its sound stays relatively fresh.

With help from Bill Stevenson and Jason Livermore at the Blasting Room, Exister proves to be Hot Water Music’s most polished record while never feeling overproduced. Opening track “Mainline” is a no-nonsense start, showing that the band has never lost its sense of self.

Peppered throughout Exister are songs that would stand alongside some of the best tracks from the band’s three albums on Epitaph – “Mainline,” “Drag My Body,” “Exister” – but the album is far from perfect. The album’s backend lags a bit, as songs such as “Take No Prisoners” and “Pledge Worn Thin” sound like full band versions of Ragan’s solo material.

The album is not without its faults, but overall it is another solid addition to Hot Water Music’s already large discography. The band doesn’t reinvent itself, and because of this it will do little to bring in those that were never all that interested in the first place. However, it proves that reunion records don’t always suck, and that although Hot Water Music will never revisit its Forever and Counting era sound, it doesn’t need to. This formula works pretty well too.

Hot Water Music Exister tracklist:

1.  “Mainline”
2. “Boy, You’re Gonna Hurt Someone”
3. “State of Grace”
4. “Down In It”
5. “Drag My Body”
6. “Safety”
7. “Exister”
8. “Wrong Way”
9. “Take No Prisoners”
10. “Pledge Worn Thin”
11. “No End Left in Sight”
12. “The Traps”
13. “Paid in Full”

Who is Bethany Cosentino? The answer, as is the case with most 20-something artists, is evolving. Whether it’s for the better depends on how far you continue reading.

Bassist Bobb Bruno said people’s most common misperception of his band’s vocalist is that of a chill cat-lady-in-training; in reality, she’ll tear you down before you can say “Snacks.” Despite a lively Twitter account, there’s little of that snapshot snark on Best Coast’s sophomore effort, The Only Place, to change that notion.

Still, that The Only Place’s album art replaces Cosentino’s famous feline with a black bear is appropriate: she’s more confident with her voice than ever, reaching for the sky without oversinging. The closing la da da’s on “Last Year” sound like nobody as much as Stevie Nicks, and her newfound vocal chops make the music sound like vintage country filtered through Clueless-era radio rock. Songs like the minimalist waltz “No One Like You” show she’s finding her voice the way Dum Dum Girls’ Dee-Dee did on last year’s Only In Dreams.

This confidence is oddly absent from the lyrics, which would expectedly be more assured than the transitional period diaries of Crazy For You. The neediness in the songs contradicts her tuff-grrl persona (“I’m always crying on the phone / Because I know that I will end up alone”) and while contradiction and uncertainty is part of the human condition, her begging is undermined by god-awful lyrical choices (“Can I still be the queen to your king?” shows a special brand of adolescent desperation).

Jon Brion’s production is characteristically clear as teardrops, underscoring the pop cred of recording a Best Coast album at the historic Capitol Studios where Green Day laid down American Idiot. He doesn’t add much – subtle strings here, dreamlike vibraphone there – but when he steps in, he makes for a welcome third member. Side 2 surprise “Dreaming My Life Away” is a mix of insidious bossanova and decayed lounge music, its minor key hook suggesting the brooding tone of EPs like Where the Boys Are. That record’s monkeyhouse cacophony – a blend of brutal guitar scrape and damaged girl-group pop – finds its polar opposite in The Only Place, an album about moving forward when everyone’s holding you back.

“I used to believe in you and me / But now I believe in nothing,” she sings on “Last Year,” and it’s more a status update than a lament. Cosentino seems more sullen now, likely due to two years of near-constant touring and publicity.  She’s developed a penchant for singing about her money, with lines like “One day it will be gone / and then I’ll have to write another song” (add a #problems hashtag as you will). Believe it or not, those are the highlights.

There’s no way around it: the lyrics are lazy (if not crazy). “Sun” rhymes with “fun,” “phone” with “alone.” She’s never been a poet, but the songs on her debut, Crazy For You were so utterly catchy it didn’t make a damn bit of difference as the apologists ditched the debate for the beach. By contrast, most of The Only Place sound listless, wafting by but never taking hold. Revisit Crazy For You’s thumping “Goodbye,” and it sounds like Nirvana.

Electronic power-pop group Reptar has gained critical acclaim as a high-energy live act. Rightfully so, songs like “Blast Off” and “Sebastian” are fully fledged dance anthems, but that’s not all Reptar can do well. As their first full-length release (via Vagrant Records), Body Faucet proves the Athens-based quartet can produce slow moving electro tunes alongside up-tempo dance beats.

Named after – of course – the dinosaur from Rugrats, Reptar has a wistful nostalgia about them. It could be the reference, but the spacious percussion and fast moving guitar licks are just plain fun. “Please Don’t Kill Me” is laced with afro-beats and sunny disposition. Along with “Natural Bridge” and “New House,” Body Faucet has an uncanny distinction to Vampire Weekend.

Reptar’s party reputation hasn’t dissipated. This effort from Reptar is subtle, but fuller. Body Faucet is no doubt an electronic party, and their legendary live shows will assumingly coincide, but their slap-in-the-face tunes from Obangle Fizz Y’all are few and far between.

“Isoprene Bath” is fast spitting and contagious. Video game keyboard quickly dances alongside Graham Ulicny’s echoed vocals with a pleasant psychedelic tone. “Orifice Oragami” is heavily tinged with 1980s pop in the intro, but it quickly turns into a power punk anthem. This track is playful, an ideal match for a summer party. “Thank You Gliese 370 b” is reminiscent of the group’s previous releases. With a shoegazy overtone, the cut is translucent and energetic.

Through energy flows color and light. Body Faucet was created with a sense of textile connection, at least as textile as music can be. The group has a psychedelic aura about them, but not as much trippy and more so free spirited.

Ulicny pleasantly repeats “Hold me closer babe, please don’t let me go,” in “Ghost Bike” a song about witnessing the death of a friend. The song is so elegantly constructed around the tragic situation; don’t be surprised if a tear appears in your eye.  But as the track slowly dissipates, “New House” chimes in with powerful yelps and spacious guitar licks. The chorus leaps out in full force with bright vigor.

Reptar’s first full album is an impressive collection of audible art. Last track, “Water Runs” is a sweet ballad. A slow, but short build up leads to a harmonized and youthful dance beat resembling the likes of Passion Pit and Justice. Sprinkled with slow paths of keys and quiet vocals, it is perfectly suited as a closer, reminding the audience to bask in every dance worthy note.

Reptar – Body Faucet tracklist:

1. “Sebastian”
2. “Please Don’t Kill Me”
3. “Isoprene Bath”
4. “Orifice Oragami”
5. “Houseboat Babies”
6. “Natural Bridge”
7. “Ghost Bike”
8. “New House”
9. “Thank You Gliese 370 b”
10. “Sweet Sipping Soda”
11. “Three Shining Suns”
12. “Water Runs”

Is Santi White angry? Her new album, Master of My Make-Believe, certainly sounds like it. The sophomore release feels heavy and confrontational, lacking the fun of her 2008 debut.

“Creator” and “L.E.S. Artistes,” the first singles off of Santogold, garnered a ton of online attention way back in 2007, preceding the release of her first album. The thunderous beats and soaring synths paired with White’s shapeshifting vocals had the music world waiting eagerly to see what she’d do next. Everything since 2007, though, hasn’t quite delivered the expected punch.

It seems like Santigold’s trying to prove something, but it comes off as brash and in-your-face, making the relatively short album drag, bottom-heavy, despite copious amounts of hip-hoppy beats, sizzling synth and reggae grooves. The lyrical themes drive home the message that Santigold’s after fame and celebrity, but it seems contrived, as if she’s given in to it or is unsure if that’s what she really wants. Maybe she’s sick of the M.I.A. comparisons. Santigold was one of several female musicians who popped up in the wake of Maya Arulpragasm’s genre-bending burst into the music scene. Frankly, Maya did it first and does it better, and it’s hard to listen to any Santigold song without thinking of M.I.A.’s sheer genius.

That being said, Master of My Make-Believe has some stand-out tracks. The first track, “GO!,” sets the tone of the album before it grows old. It’s driven by a vaguely sinister-sounding melody and a throbbing beat. White’s staccato chanting adds to the militaristic feel. You can imagine her charging forward, brandishing a flag while wearing trendy sunglasses. The problem is, it’s unclear who the war is against, or what she’s fighting for.

The brief but glorious “Freak Like Me” rides on an entrancing beat and shines like a beacon in the middle of the album, one of the lightest songs, both in length and mood. It’s a celebration of eccentricities with a catchy vocal hook and a repetitive chorus that practically begs listeners to sing along.

Other than that, the release is largely forgettable. We can chalk this one up to the sophomore slump, perhaps. Hopefully Santigold won’t wait another four years to put out her next record. Maybe the album can be summed up best in her own words. During “Fame,” Santigold sings, “We don’t want the fame. Oh, we want the fame.” Which one is it, Santigold? Figure it out, then come back and let us know.

Santigold – Master of My Make-Believe tracklist:

1. “GO!”
2. “Disparate Youth”
3. “God from the Machine”
4. “Fame”
5. “Freak Like Me”
6. “This Isn’t Our Parade”
7. “The Riot’s Game”
8. “Pirate in the Water”
9. “The Keepers”
10. “Look at These Hoes”
11. “Big Mouth”

He’s written an opera. He’s released a staggering 19-disk anthology chronicling his life’s work. Naturally, Rufus Wainwright’s next move was to make a dance-pop record, right? A relentless work ethic and willingness to experiment has produced Out of the Game, one of Wainwright’s most innovative, cheerful records yet.

The 12-track groove monster kicks off with the first single and title track. Wainwright’s tenor bounces across peppy drums and staccato piano as he chants “I’m out of the game/I’ve been out for a long time now.” Considering it’s only been a year since the release of House of Rufus, it’s hard to believe Wainwright has found any time to sit on the sidelines. But this soulful Michael Bublé reminiscent cut is a triumphant entrance back into music.

“Rashida” dwells in Wainwright’s accustomed melancholy territory, with down-tempo vocals and lyrics depicting abandonment and yearning. The song features a grand horn interlude combined with the warm but all too familiar of the gospel choir.

Marking the halfway point is “Montauk” which, thankfully, begins with a fairly simple arrangement compared to the rest of the record. Wainwright channels his signature scale-jumping vocals and is the main focus of the song. Producer Mark Ronson’s presence is noticeable but not overwhelming, with electronic accents punctuating the otherwise sleepy track.

“Perfect Man” is a bass-powered funk jam; Wainwright’s musical inspirations for the record, David Bowie and Queen, are overwhelmingly evident. The constant tempo changes and musical psychedelia with Wainwright’s droning vocal style conjure images of a manic depressive Freddie Mercury. Wainwright and Ronson seem to have reached creative equilibrium on this track, each artist’s signature styles no longer compete with one another—they complement each other and create a distinctive mood.

Acoustic guitar makes it first and only appearance on closing track “Candles,” and pushes Wainwright’s vocal range to a delicate falsetto. Accordion Lyrics like “I tried to do all that I can/ but the churches have run out of candles” seem to make an allusion to his mother, Canadian folk singer Kate McGarrigle’s death. Clocking in at nearly eight minutes, “Candles” is an emotionally draining track but leaves with it a hunger for more, an element absent in the album as a whole.

A commendable effort for his seventh studio album, it must be mentioned that Wainwright shows a zeal for adventure on this record. And while another sad-sap piano club record would have sounded tired, it would have been much truer than Out of the Game, which can be contrived and disjointed. Wainwright has tried his hand at dance pop and swingy funk, now let’s hear some melancholy ballads.

Rufus Wainwright – Out of the Game tracklist:

1. “Out of the Game”
2. “Jericho”
3. “Rashida”
4. “Barbara”
5. “Welcome to the Ball”
6. “Montauk”
7. “Bitter Tears”
8. “Respectable Dive”
9. “Perfect Man”
10. “Sometimes You Need”
11. “Song of You”
12. “Candles”

Here We Go Magic’s A Different Ship is ten relatively simple indie rock songs that take the listener on an unexpected journey throughout different experiments and experimenting with different soundscapes of the genre. There are a few flavors that Here We Go Magic whip out to keep you guessing. During each transition from track to track one gets that feeling that they think they’ve heard it before and that they know what is going to happen next, but there are a few gems that will keep listeners pleasantly surprised.

The album starts with an ominous sounding little intro track that clocks in under a minute. It builds tension with pulsating drums and waves of sounds that sound like they’re coming from the inside of an industrial factory. then at the last second it all fades together and the sweet acoustic guitar hook and soothing vocal melody of “Hard to be Close” sweeps in and the listener feel safe again. Less than three minutes into the album and A Different Ship is already kind of messing with the listener’s head. To continue on this winding journey, there are subtle electric guitar notes that linger around in the background that act like the eerie tone in a horror film. These scream “Radiohead” during the more quiet moments of their later work like In Rainbows and Hail to the Thief. This likeness comes as no surprise, though, as Radiohead’s producer and so-called sixth member Nigel Godrich produced the album.

All the while this is happening the vocal melodies of “Hard to be Close” are sung in an extremely melodic and catchy manner that really make the tune feel like a love song in the vein of Band of Horses. This strange mix and constantly shifting balance between hi-fi Brooklyn-hipster-danceable-electronic-rock and the folk/country on A Different Ship is how the album keeps listeners on their toes. These songs at first feel unsettling, like a bad acid trip, but they’ll grow on listeners in an extremely addictive way. All the songs on A Different Ship sound unique. There aren’t many bands that could pull off a legitimately catchy hybrid folk-dance song like “Make Up Your Mind,” with its 80s synths and guitar licks that, if taken out of context, could be found in a porno, and make it feel natural.

“How Do I Know” is a fun little indie rock song with a very tinny and distorted two-chord guitar riff that repeats throughout the whole song and an extremely catchy vocal line that is literally dripping with influence from Band of Horses. This tune serves it’s purpose as the most up-beat song on the album.

The title track, and album closer, disguises itself as an eight-and-a-half-minute song, but right around five minutes it falls off into ambience and echoes for the next three minutes. The listener will keep waiting and waiting for a guitar riff, bass line, or drum beat to kick back in (similar to what Women did on Public Strain) because so much of the album was filled with surprises, but it never comes. However, the first half of the track is some of the the best material on the album. It has a churning and swirling flange guitar hook that gets knocked on its feet around the one minute mark and almost turns into a psychedelic waltz that give off vibes from The Cure around the Disintegration era.

The songs that take themselves into more unpredictable directions are the stronger ones. As such, the most disappointing part of this album isn’t that the weaker songs are bad, it’s that Here We Go Magic gave us this great taste of what kind of weird boundaries they can break, but then stray back to more conventional pop songs. “Alone But Moving” and “Over the Ocean” are slow moving and don’t capture the multiple personality disorder that the other songs on the album have.

Overall, A Different Ship is a small, but very controlled experiment between a few genres that normally wouldn’t be put together. The band is best when it takes chances and though there isn’t a clear direction on this release, it is well worth hearing.

Here We Go Magic – A Different Ship tracklist:

1.  “Intro”
2. “Hard to Be Close”
3. “Make Up Your Mind”
4. “Alone But Moving”
5. “I Believe in Action”
6. “Over the Ocean”
7. “Made to Be Old”
8. “How Do I Know”
9. “Miracle of Mary”
10. “A Different Ship”

On its new EP, The Jesus Rehab has grown into a bigger band, a feat accomplished by dropping most of its members. Now, to be a member of TJR, one must not only rock, but have the same last name as the other members. And not just in a Ramones kind of way. With these new requirements, The Jesus Rehab is now a two-man band.

This month, TJR revealed its new form with the release of Drunken Hillbilly Fight Bar, a collection of six straight-forward, stomping rock songs. This is the band’s first release since its full-length album The Highest Highs and Lowest Lows and the only difference between the two collections is everything.

The Highest Highs was a 45-minute rock opera, a concept album following a character based not loosely on TJR’s singer/guitarist Jared Cortese. The album was conceived and recorded over several years, documenting a full range of emotions and experimenting with a wide spectrum of rock music in the pop format. It had an intro and outro and, while beautiful, required the listener’s patience during its swells and falls.

Drunken Hillbilly Fight Bar is as different a record they could make while still playing under the same band name. Instead of gradual builds, the EP charges out of the gate on the rolling toms of drummer Dominic Cortese, Jared’s younger brother. For 6 tracks and 23 minutes, Fight Bar requires little patience. Fitting, since it was recorded in only a few weeks. It spans a range of genres, but it always rocks.

For an instrumental group to introduce vocals, they have to brace themselves from near certain backlash. A vocalist can immediately reshape the identity of a band or, in small doses, can confuse that identity and divide fans.

While Do Make Say Think may have proven that it is possible to incorporate a little vocal work on a predominantly instrumental album on You, You’re a History in Rust, Pelican showed us that sometimes it’s best not to tamper with an established sound on What We All Come to Need. The Samuel Jackson Five still hasn’t found worldwide recognition, so they are in a better spot to tamper.

For the Norwegian instrumental group, who built their sound around a jazzy, syncopated pop sound with inflections of folk, there appears to be a lack of certainty with the addition of vocals on their fourth and self-titled LP. Three of 11 tracks feature vocals from three very different singers.

“Electric Crayons” features the voice of Thomas Bratlie, which fits perfectly in the post-Coheed and Cambria alternative rock world. It’s a rather puzzling choice for the group, even if they do draw from similar prog rock influences. The 5/8 groove provided by the band keeps the piece somewhat afloat, but most are going to find Bratlie’s contributions off-putting.

Next up is “Ten Crept In,” with vocals by Truls Heggero of Norwegian Grammy-winning Lukestar. His vocals will immediately call to mind Michael Angelakos of Passion Pit when he isn’t straining for the high notes and his performance matches the SJ5 sound much better, at least with this one example. It even has single potential. However, with the likeness to Passion Pit he may not be the best choice to form a sound around.

With the final vocal tune, “Tremulous Silence,”  Pål Angelskår (of Minor Majority – another Norwegian Grammy winner) has some sort of Neil Young-meets-Bill Callahan thing going on which doesn’t work at all when the band pumps up the distortion in the back end.

So while it’s easy to get down on the band for going with some odd choices, we can also attribute it to the fact that these guys have a really wide range of sonic potential and it would be hard to find one guy that can fit it exactly. Still, it’s hard to call this anything other than a failed experiment. Had “Ten Crept In” been marketed as a single, it would have worked much better.

What about the other eight tracks? Well, much of it is SJ5 as usual: Syncopated rhythms, noodly guitar riffs with the occasional banjo and blast of woodwinds. The band, perhaps for some continuity includes some vocal “ahs” and “oohs” from time to time in the other tracks which are inoffensive.

Supposedly this album has more of an urban vibe than its predecessor, Goodbye Melody Mountain, citing “Mockba” and its sampling of noises from Berlin at night in particular. Truth be told its hard to see what’s specifically urban about it, but all the same it’s one of the better tracks on the album.

The other highlights pop up toward the end: “Perennial Candidate” and “And Then We Met the Locals” pull out all the stops before “Low Entropy” closes the album as a mostly solo guitar piece that recalls Steve Howe’s beautiful guitar asides on various Yes tracks.

While roughly half of the tunes are on par with the quality fans have come to expect from SJ5, the vocals distort their identity and kill some of the flow. Plus, none of the three singers seem to really fit well enough to keep on board for future work. Perhaps the band should have first done an EP with vocal collaborations to test the waters before sticking them onto a full-length like this. Hopefully they’ll get this figured out for next time.

The Samuel Jackson Five – The Samuel Jackson Five tracklist:

1. “Never Ending Now”
2. “Mockba”
3. “Electric Crayons”
4. “Radio Gagarin”
5. “Race to the Self-Destruct Button”
6. “What Floats Her Boat”
7. “Ten Crept In”
8. “A Perennial Candidate”
9. “Tremulous Silence”
10. “And Then We Met the Locals”
11. “Low Entropy”