Album Reviews Archives - Page 46 of 92

The genre column on iTunes claims that The Spyrals are a “shoegaze” band, and who are we to judge? They certainly mix their vocals in the distinctive shoegaze style (i.e., reverb-glazed vocals that sound as though they are coming from the apartment next door). Compared to most shoegaze acts, however, The Spyrals have more energy than most groups who would rather stare at their shoes. Case in point: The Spyrals are an “under the radar” act making very “on the radar” type music.

Opening track “Lonely Eyes” cuts a fantastic middle ground between the roughness of garage and the smoothness of psychedelia, all with a powerful, pulsating energy underlying it. It’s nice to see a band that can get your toes tapping right out of the gate. The guitar licks are great and straight out of the classic rock catalog, evoking the bluesy immediacy of the Rolling Stones on “Disguise” and the sultry cool of the Velvet Underground on jangling, baroque “Radiation.”

There’s also the dusty guitar twangs of early surf rock and the draw of mythic desert roadtrips on subtle and well-paced “Long Road Out.” Like The Morning Benders before them, “Road” is more than a little vocally focused for a band that aren’t strong lyricists, and seems to have a moral objection to allowing anybody to understand what the singer is saying. But that’s an insignificant nitpick for such a nice oasis of infectious guitar work.

“The Rain” is probably the strongest track present; there are few too openings in music where the songs begins with someone playing harmonica as though the world is ending. Backed with a great baseline and solid percussion, The Spyrals have a good thing going with this track–and judging by how long they jam with it, they know it.

The downside to all this is that the Spyrals have yet to set themselves apart with this particular release. They’ve got a great sound, and certainly know their way around retro soundscapes, but fail to use this knowledge to their advantage. The lyrics, though pleasant, never stick. And when they have the chance to hook listeners with memorable one-liners or mesmerizing storytelling, they’d rather fine-tune catchy hooks. Fine–they jam really, really well–but the music could use some seasoning. Here’s to hoping that this release foreshadows better things to come.

The Spyrals – The Spyrals tracklist:

“Lonely Eyes”
“Disguise”
“Trying to Please”
“Calling Out Your Name”
“Long Road Out”
“Radiation”
“Save Yourself”
“The Rain”
“Evil Kind”

Lushlife – Plateau Vision

Philadelphia-based producer/rapper Raj Haldar AKA Lushlife’s 2009 effort Cassette City flew under a lot of radars, but those who chanced upon it were undoubtedly swept away by its deftly produced, sunny sounds. Hip-hop and indie rock have started to mesh a little over the years and Haldar set himself up as a true talent. His beats are much more immediate than the blossoming “cloud rap,” but more intricate and creative than the obvious sampling by the likes of Lupe Fiasco and Chiddy Bang. As such, the album packed a hook-filled punch that made him a figure to keep an eye on in the future.

With Plateau Vision, we see Lush take a slightly darker turn. There’s still plenty of pep, for instance opener “Magnolia” with some harp glissando and sound effects that recall The Avalanches’ Since I Left You or “Anthem” which dons some vintage radio fuzz over an easygoing groove. But much of the record features hollowed out vocal samples, lots of reverb and harder beats.

“Still I Hear the Word Progress” comes in the two spot with thick synth tones and heavy drums. Lush raps with more aggression than we’ve heard yet and there’s also a guest verse by Styles P. “Big Sur,” however, finds a middle ground: Beautiful strings sped up to sound like a Maps & Atlases track are juxtaposed with a classic 90s style beat.

Lush has the technical ability to rap over his beats, but definitely isn’t as skilled a lyricist. His flow is more than adequate, but his complex rhyme schemes often lend themselves to words of little meaning. It’s very cerebral and it sounds good, but at the heart of it is nothing poignant. The key problem is that he hasn’t yet established an identity for himself as an emcee. All we really know about him is the music he likes, which he constantly name drops. While the man does have taste, from Joy Division all the way to Burt Bacharach, we can tell implicitly by the quality of his beats, which meld them so well; there’s no need to also mention the inspiration by name.

It seems like Haldar wants to follow the Kanye West producer/rapper layout, but unfortunately he hasn’t demonstrated that he has the character or personality that West does. Maybe it’s because Lush never had it as bad as him, maybe it’s his formal, classical background. There’s nothing wrong with that, but perhaps it’s the one thing that keeps him from the upper echelon of the genre. He can rap. He just doesn’t write about anything particularly meaningful. Cassette City worked a tad better because the lyrics fit the sunny feeling Haldar projected.

It’s easy to listen through the album and realize you don’t remember a single thing the guy has said. And while that can be a slight on the lyrics, it’s also a huge testament to the quality of the music. The beats are always the star of the show and the vocals are like another instrument to go with them. The depth isn’t as important as the vibe, but it works surprisingly well on Plateau Vision. Listeners will thoroughly enjoy sitting through it strictly for the vibes, which are indeed quite lush. Closing track “Stakk Cheddar Galore Alwyn Dias” simply washes over the listener with a gorgeous beat and by then it’s gotten to the point that it doesn’t really matter what he says because the music says it all.

Upcoming rappers take note: you really ought to get some beats from this guy.

Lushlife – Plateau Vision tracklist:

“Magnolia”
“Still I Hear the Word Progress”
“The Romance of the Telescope”
“Big Sur”
“Glistening”
“Gymnopedie 1.2”
“Anthem”
“Hale-Bopp Was the Bedouins”
“She’s a Buddhist, I’m a Cubist”
“Progress”
“Stakk Cheddar Alwyn Dias”

Black Dice – Mr. Impossible

In honor of “Late Night” host David Letterman’s 65^th birthday recently, here are the top ten reasons to throw Mr. Impossible on your turntable:

10. Because Black Dice are neither Puppy Paws nor A Pair of Sunflowers. In fact they are anathema to both, and don’t care who know it. To wit, “Pinball Wizard” is less of The Who and more Jimi Hendrix and his trained Jingle Cats, whereas “Rodriguez” is more like Yello infiltrating the Art Of Noise, only they’re taking a chainsaw to a synthesizer, not a piano.

9. Jesse James is robbing the Railroad Nine, on his way to see Nina at the marina in Pasadena. If Rammstein is your valentine like Gertrude Stein was mine, then Black Dice will split your spine right down the Rock Island Line. The vocal sound on the first single, “Pigs” is reminiscent of Ministry’s Al Jourgensen on “Stigmata,” albeit it if the tape was chopped up, thrown on the floor and spliced back together, “Benefit of Mr. Kite”-style.

8. A square pair Black Dice are not (they’re actually a trio at this point), and they aren’t winning any rewards for easy listening. If anything, the opposite is true. Fifteen years into their existence, Mr. Impossible is their sixth record, and although they started as a thrash/noise group, they have more of an electronic orientation at this point in their evolution.

7. Up pops the devil, and it’s “Spy Vs. Spy,” a sonic anthem stretched to the limits like the band on a pinball flipper about to crack and give way. Started by guitarist Bjorn Copeland at Rhode Island School of Design in 1997, the group now calls Brooklyn home and has long-since added Bjorn’s brother Eric as a full-fledged member on “vocals.”

6. Busting Jimmie Hicks from the sticks. Have you ever wished the Imperial spy with the prominent proboscis (Garindan, for the nerds out there) had been sucked into the turbine of a pod racer and blended up into Bantha fodder? This is the sound of that.

5. Little Phoebe being bombarded by bruising digital dodge balls, boarding box cars (turning) out of mind. Not to belabor the “Star Wars” analogies, but if you’ve ever fantasized about torturing a jawa on a medieval rack, then “Brunswick Sludge (Meets Front Range Tripper)” could well be the sound of that.

4. Little Joe from Kokomo is either stuck in a spinning centrifuge or being ground to bits in a squeaky blender. In either regard, his choice of a tutu as appropriate garb is ill-advised, if irrelevant. “Outer Body Drifter” borrows the electronic echoed castanet sound of Ministry’s “Every Day Is Halloween.”

3. Little Deuce Coupes: Because rayguns are not just the future, they are (in the here and now) a key mole-like agent that can dig apart the gardens of earthly delights found in both early and later Ministry records equally. If you like the image of Snoopy fighting the Red Baron, then Mr. Impossible might be the one to put out your dog bowl for you, or at least fly your religion into a kite-eating tree. On the aforementioned “Brunswick Sludge” one can almost hear the mournful beagle howl; or is that an adult talking? There’s no adult supervision here, for sure.

2. Snake Eyes: Because the Butthole Surfers’ foray into electronic dance music is way overdue. It’s illuminating to consider this record as a punk approach to electronic music, but there’s nothing bare-bones about this. Indeed, often the “music” has to fight through the challenging and dense polyrhythmic percussion to be heard.

1. There is no number one. This is dice! If there was a number one, it would be a die, which is kind of like the spitting image of what one wishes for after listening to this record more than once. But like dying, it’s better the second time, never boring, but not something one would wish to repeat too much. For the soundtrack to the next “Groundhog Day,” even Sonny and Cher would be preferable. Mr. Impossible grows on the listener over time like a fungus, it’s just a challenge to tell if the result will be a delectable truffle or a death cap mushroom. If difficult listening is the opposite of easy listening, then Black Dice are on a roll and will leave the proverbial craps table of difficult music with a stack of winnings in hand.

Black Dice – Mr. Impossible tracklist:

“Pinball Wizard”
“Rodriguez”
“The Jacker”
“Pigs”
“Spy Vs. Spy”
“Outer Body Drifter”
“Shithouse Drifter”
“Carnitas”
“Brunswick Sludge (Meets Front Range Tripper)”

Dr. John – Locked Down

Already a paradigm of bayou blues, Dr. John has remained prolific and relevant in today’s modern times. The release of Locked Down ushers in a new wave of modernity on John’s music, especially with producer and Black Keys pillar Dan Auerbach. Packed into the 10-track record is the true embodiment of southern blues. Roots, horns, spice, every single blues music cliché—this album has it all, yet it couldn’t sound fresher or more innovative.

“Locked Down” kicks off the record with funky organs and clean vocals with soul. A tamed background choir complements the song nicely without becoming overpowered, as is common with many big-band soul-influenced albums. At five minutes, “Locked Down” is a hefty intro to swallow, but look past the television theme song chorus jangling in your cerebellum and you’ll be in for a lo-fi reggae-blues treat.

The melodic, nearly spoken vocals of “Big Shot” are reminiscent of Cab Calloway and are built up by a steady horn section and intricate drums. The repeated refrain “another big shot” would come off as painfully egotistical with any other artist. But when it comes to an artist with as much clout, who sings with as much understated confidence, as Dr. John, the lyrics are painfully honest. Dr. John’s lyrics are classic but still clever, with introspections regarding the nature of love and the trivialities of life streaming through each song.

Marking the midpoint of the 10-track album, “Getaway” begins with an infectious keyboard introduction and wastes no time in incorporating the rest of the restrained but undeniably skilled backing band. “Getaway” is the most successful track in meshing vocal and musical elements in nicotine-laced blues harmony. “Getaway” closes with a vicious guitar solo that injects a welcomed change of pace into the track. Ending with a short stab of feedback, listeners are reminded of the basis of Dr. John’s sound—stripped down, rootsy music that speaks to the pathos of music, not the rules or the confines.

What can only be described as a song capable of scoring both a grand heist and a steamy romantic encounter, “You Lie” is a standout cut off of Locked Down. Preachy and unassuming vocals contend with a full horn section to weave an unexpectedly bitter tail of deceit.

“My Children, My Angels” is the most wrenching of the tracks and provides a small glimpse through the opaque stoicism of the blues crooner. Made evident by increasingly intricate arrangements and more deliberate vocal delivery, both John and the song as a whole gain strength throughout the course of the song. Even with these five minutes of emotional inventory, Dr. John manages to maintain the careless shrugs and guffaws that characterize his nonchalant style.

With more albums than can logically be conceived under his belt, Dr. John has managed to reinvent the very style he defined. A true man of his craft, Dr. John has thrown his heart and soul into Locked Down, at least as much that isn’t still down in the bayou.

Dr. John – Locked Down tracklist:

“Locked Down”
“Revolution”
“Big Shot”
“Ice Age”
“Getaway”
“Kingdom of Izzness”
“You Lie”
“Eleggua”
“My Children, My Angels”
“God’s Sure Good”

Great Lake Swimmers – New Wild Everywhere

Something about Great Lake Swimmers sounds much like Ray LaMontagne between the lines of his slower material. In “Be Here Now” or “Forever My Friend” LaMontagne entertains with a slow bravery that is parallel to many of the songs on Great Lake Swimmers’ New Wild Everywhere.

Initially listeners can tell this band’s style is incredibly well-defined, which is ultimately consistent throughout their album. It achieves success in thoroughness of their craft, varying only slightly to add culture to the mix. Great Lake Swimmers have achieved the specificity in their genre, which is a feat to be honored in your band’s musical spectrum.

As Great Lake Swimmers revel in their low-energy work, the band might become greatly caught up in their own troubles and emotions. If the album were laid out less strategically, separating more beat-driven songs from the more hushed rhythms, listeners could easily argue that New Wild Everywhere is too mellow. But the band was smart to disperse more thrilling tunes evenly throughout the album to keep listeners awake.

A few songs, among them “Changes With The Wind” won’t bring you down like the rest do. Well, it’s not to say that they totally depress their listeners with their music or even if the band had intended to be so melancholy-sounding, it’s just that the album isn’t one to bring your spirits up when you’re down. It’ll wind you deeper into your thoughts.

Something gets lost when Great Lake Swimmers become too electronic. This may not be their specialty, in songs like the title track where things spin in a different direction, the melody gets lost. Starter “On The Water” and the fluid “Cornflower Blue” are where the band maintains strength. “Quiet Your Mind” has an incredible musical interlude within it, for example, which not only expands the song but complicates it, adding character to the song where there was a void in storytelling. Needless to say, the album has no lack of generous display of instrumental ability.

Just like in “The Knife” where the words of Great Lake Swimmers are paired with gentle imagery in order to paint the canvas of their story. This is something to close your eyes to.

New Wild Everywhere isn’t fully transparent and doesn’t give any leads into the meaning behind their stories. Unfortunately for listeners, much of this content is vague and foggy, though poetic and spiritual.

It’s indulgent for the writers to produce so much material without aiding listeners in their efforts to make sense of their content. This may come off as selfish to those who aren’t able to transcribe the work of the band, perceiving it as difficult and cloudy. Fans need songwriters to throw them a bone every now and then in order for things to work. Otherwise it can leave listeners lost and feeling empty, like nothing was gained from the experience.

“On The Water,” for example, is endearing and cute yet terribly dragging. It carries New Wild Everywhere to a drawn out and dull finish, which is not a note any artist should wish to end on. Ultimately, though, the album stays afloat with its quality in well-produced and experienced music-making, leaving it up to instrumentals and highly artistic word-making (however indulgent) in order to let New Wild Everywhere succeed.

Great Lake Swimmers – New Wild Everywhere tracklist:

“On the Water”
“Parkdale Blues”
“Quiet Your Mind”
“Ballad of a Fisherman’s Wife”
“Easy Come Easy Go”
“Fields of Progeny”
“Changes With the Wind”
“Cornflower Blue”
“The Knife”
“The Great Exhale”
“New Wild Everywhere”
“Think That You Might Be Wrong”

Clark – Iradelphic

Clark’s Iradelphic was released on Warp Records. Most things released by that label are of high quality and the label is held to a different standard than most, especially with highly experimental tweaked out music of all kinds on the label with heavy hitter bands like Prefuse 73, Battles, and Grizzly Bear. Clark’s sound stems from the kind that you listen to with headphones at three in the morning alone and contemplating life; Iradelphic is no different.

First and foremost this is an album that spans genres across the board. It’s a mixture of trip-hop, ambient, and some very, very far out psych-folk all in one.

The album’s third track, “Tooth Moves,” is very similar in parts to Bibio (also on Warp Records) in that it builds the rhythm of the song witharpeggios of acoustic guitars that shimmer in a certain lo-fi light that sound blissfully fuzzy yet perfectly crisp at the same time.

However, where most ambient artists go for a more expressionistic sort of approach to their art that sometimes results in songs repeating endlessly or trailing off into nowhere, each song on Iradelphic straddles the lines between traditional pop-song structures of verse-chorus-verse while also maintaining a certain adventurous or loose-cannon type of personality that could explode at any moment. Sometimes a single song will blur the lines and switch modes or styles out of nowhere effortlessly.

There is a wide variety of sounds and instruments explored on this album. There are Middle Eastern sounding guitars used on the first track and the second track has electronic keyboard synths that sound bloopy enough to be a Com Truise song. These shifts in tones are sometimes unsettling. The album has a dark side to it through all the ambience and drifting and all the prettiness. This works in the album’s favor as it actually feels like there is something happening in this album. There feels like there is a narrative that is driving the songs and the album as a whole.

They aren’t just a collection of long and drawn out synth PADS and slow modulation waving walls of sound for an hour. The first three songs are exclusively instrumental then there is a two minute interlude that leads to three songs with vocals and lyrics that embody a very dark psychedelic-folk mood. After those songs is another smaller two minute interlude type song that leads into three songs, “The Pining, Pts. 1, 2 and 3” leaving one song, “Broken Kite Footage,” as the album closer. Though this separation makes the album feel like it has three movements, “The Pinings” set don’t seem to have very much to do with each other besides their proximity on the album. This doesn’t detract from the quality of the songs, but it still makes you raise an eyebrow. As a whole though, the album starts off with a strong beat and then fizzles out like a movie.

These are songs that you can listen to—sometimes. This isn’t an album to put on with other people around. This is an album to listen to with your eyes closed for forty minutes and meditate, but it isn’t stale background music. Songs like “Open” have vocals, lyrics, melody and rhythm, musical qualities usually missing in ambient music. “Secret” is also a song like this, and naturally “Open,” “Secret” and “Ghosted” are grouped together in the second act between interludes.

This album isn’t a one stop shop for everything you need in an album though. Iradelphic is the kind of stuff that you’d hear at a trendy art show at a gallery that just opened with a bunch of art you don’t understand, but still looks really cool even though you have no idea what it’s about.

Clark – Iradelphic tracklist:

“Henderson Wrench”
“Com Touch”
“Tooth Moves”
“Skyward Bruise/Descent”
“Open”
“Secret”
“Ghosted”
“Black Stone”
“The Pining, Pt. 1”
“The Pining, Pt. 2”
“The Pining, Pt. 3”
“Broken Kite Footage”

Maps & Atlases – Beware and Be Grateful

There are a million things one could say about Maps & Atlases’ newest album. I started this review a hundred times over, with pretentious rants about poetry and music, what it means to be an artist and the way that we as consumers dissect and ingest art, but I think that, in the spirit of the band, this review should be kept simple and painfully real.

Maps & Atlases is a band that has always had two fantastic things going for it: they know how to take the often awkward and densely layered guitars of math-rock and make them fun and accessible, and they know how to take plainspoken lyrics and make them meaningful, touching and powerful. They have a flair for the dramatic and the rare talent to take that emotion and make it understated and realistic instead of overblown and cartoonish. From their fantastic mathy-er EPs Tree, Swallows, Houses, and You and Me and the Mountain to their somewhat more subdued and accessible debut full length Perch Patchwork, Maps & Atlases have produced consistently solid music, a rare sound that is both heavily introspective yet adventurous and fun.

They’ve just now released a second full album and hearts are breaking: Maps & Atlases are a fantastic band that produced a boring record.

Where Perch Patchwork and their two big EPs were twitchy with excitement, Beware and Be Grateful lingers far too long. These new songs lack that dangerous edge that intrigued listeners and really pulled them in. Which is too bad, because the band is clearly still capable of producing interesting music, and there are glimpses of their former brilliance throughout the album (like the dramatic crash of instruments that accompany the climactic ending of album intro “Old & Gray”) but nothing really pans out as well as it should.

It hurts to hear the more generic songs, especially because there are still a few good moments sprinkled throughout Beware; beyond the aforementioned “Old & Gray,” there’s also the interesting combo of rubbery, bending synths and violent scat singing on “Silver Self,” or the evocative lyrics of “Old Ash.” But for each of these innovations, there are tracks like album closer “Important,” that drag aimlessly, committed to one monopolizing sound, instead of the sporadic and adventurous spirit the band’s earlier recordings captured so fantastically.

While the new, more laid-back style works for a few songs, like “Fever” or “Winter,” the album by and large needs that edge the band’s earlier works had. Now, instead of exploring new sounds or dropping instruments dramatically or, really, changing things up at all, the songs just sort of carry on until they end, and that’s a bit of a disappointment.

The most painful thing about Beware and Be Grateful, though, is that the poignant lyricism from earlier records is still in top form here. “I’ve got a drawer full of your notes / And wood games that we played on planes / And five pages at least of you / Practicing signing your first with my last name” belts singer Dave Davison in “Old & Gray.” The words are always simple but the emotions are complex, and while the lyrics of this album would make for great poetry, they just don’t work when the music is so generic and one-sided.

Until now, everything Maps & Atlases has produced has been solid gold, and they really were primed to explode if they had continued to play towards their strengths. But instead, Beware and Be Grateful is something of a misstep; instead of truly evolving their sound, they just made it more generic, and that’s a shame.

So check out Perch Patchwork. Check out Tree, Swallows, Houses. Check out You, Me, and the Mountain. Know that Maps & Atlases are a fantastic band, because they are, and hope that this record was just a tiny mistake, a footnote in a long and successful career.

Maps & Atlases – Beware and Be Grateful tracklist:

“Old & Gray”
“Fever”
“Winter”
“Remote & Dark Years”
“Silver Self”
“Vampires”
“Be Three Years Old”
“Bugs”
“Old Ash”
“Important”

Spiritualized – Sweet Heart, Sweet Light

Context plays a key role in understanding Jason Pierce’s art. If you didn’t know that his masterpiece, Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space, was written in a junk and breakup infused state, one might not fully appreciate the magnificence of “Cop Shoot Cop.” But full practical context doesn’t necessarily make “Come Together” sound any more world-spanning. On the basis of strict sonic pleasure, Spiritualized comes remarkably easily – wall of sound Britpop sung by a feeble little man. Textural subtleties are more of a fans reward for sticking through Pierce’s frequently marathon LPs.

Just so, Sweet Heart, Sweet Light, Spiritualized’s seventh album, is a record that at first seems more on the nose than anything Pierce has ever created then deepens with each successive listen. Exhaustingly long (just a few seconds short of a full hour) for a pop-rock record, Sweet Heart builds off of the conceptual framework of Pierce playing the most accessible music that he can possibly think of. As he’s said in interviews, the pop elements of his music are the most difficult; Sweet Heart is an attempt to subvert this difficulty and turn it into a strength. Where the magnificent Songs in A & E dove into the jangly and roughshod, this album is on its face constructed and clean.

That is, until one reads to context. While recording Sweet Heart, Pierce was battling a degenerative disease with a experimental concoction of medicines, sometimes rendering him completely exhausted during periods of recording. Pierce’s voice has never sounded so weak and raspy, no doubt due to this impossible set of circumstances he’s put himself in. Sweet Heart’s themes all tread this near-death line as well, although that’s nothing outside of Spiritualized’s wheelhouse. Even the sunny moments are flecked with the morose – amid the cheerful euphoria of “Hey Jane,” Pierce slips in the line “Hey Jane, when you gonna die?

Unlike Spiritualized albums of the recent and not so recent past, however, the music accompaniment to Pierce’s death bed poetry is far cheerier than in other places. He’s still an anthemic master – the chorus of “Too Late” is a lighter raiser without a doubt – but for the first time his music sounds visibly happier than he does. “Hey Jane,” “Too Late,” “Little Girl” and “Get What You Deserve” are heavy on the British rock influences, particularly the Beatles. In his struggle to embrace solid pop music, Pierce hits a sweet spot a couple of time (“Hey Jane” is an all-timer), but misses the mark just a bit too much. “Little Girl” is endearing, but Pierce’s sticky sweet verse and the pure pop sonics are a little overcooked – Spiritualized succeeds when it tempers Pierce’s romance with noise. On this subject, “Get What You Deserve” is a hellfire – sitar, raucous drums and a violent Pierce coalescing to fire off a mystifying track. The second half of the record is more strictly Spiritualized; “Headed for the Top Now” and “I am What I Am,” to varying degrees, emulate the beautiful chaos of Songs in A & E. “I am What I Am” takes too much from Pierce’s ill-fated gospel phase, but “Headed” is vicious.

The last three tracks are what’s most interesting about Sweet Heart, Sweet Light, and largely split the fans of Spiritualized into two camps – those who embrace Pierce going full bore into his romanticism and nearness to death, and those who want the noise back. “Mary” lists forward with a out of tune brass section as Pierce strains his voice out to turn everyone away from him. If there is a lyrical construct behind Sweet Heart, it’s the realization of mortality at the very end, accepting impending death and understanding those around us that do accept such fate. “Mary” is as much self-defeating as pointed criticism – PIerce is leaving, so his partner needs to move on so that he doesn’t cause her more pain.

Jason Pierce is a weak man, physically and emotionally. “Life is a Problem” is this thesis as a song – a man who before spurned religion’s influence now walks forward to Christ in violent and accelerative imagery. In a moving melodic coda to the “Huh? (Intro),” Pierce’s worldview becomes manifest: “I’m lost and I’m gone / and this life is too long / and my willpower was never too strong.” Maybe it isn’t acceptance of death, but a release of pain. For a man who has suffered much in his life, such a beautiful, cinematic closer is sweet, and perfect.

But it’s not the end of a Spiritualized album without gigantism, is it? In an ending that echoes Oasis in both good and bad ways, “So Long You Pretty Thing” shifts from a “Life is a Problem” clone to a apocalyptically big three and a half minute closing blast, featuring a magnificent line. People viewing Spiritualized without context will read “So long you pretty thing, God save your little soul / the music that you played so hard ain’t on your radio / and all your dreams of diamond rings and of all that rock n’ roll could bring you’ve sailed on / so long” as a sweet goodbye to a loved one. For those who are invested in Pierce’s story, though, the message flips back on itself. Instead of saying goodbye to someone else, Pierce seems to imagine his own elegy. In gigantic, bright and trumpetful fashion, Pierce somewhat fittingly puts a capper on his own life.

Does Sweet Heart, Sweet Light deserve such a massive ending? It depends on how successful you think Pierce’s foray into straight Britpop was. Whether poignant and moving or cloying and unearned, the latest of iteration of Spiritualized will certainly be polarizing. But the beautiful thing about Jason Pierce’s music is that polarity isn’t based on whether you know the backstory. Spiritualized, whether by single or by mammoth album, by success or by overreaching failure, is a band for everybody.

Spiritualized – Sweet Heart, Sweet Light tracklist:

“Huh? (Intro)”
“Hey Jane”
“Little Girl”
“Get What You Deserve”
“Too Late”
“Headin’ for the Top Now”
“Freedom”
“I Am What I Am”
“Mary”
“Life Is a Problem”
“So Long You Pretty Thing”

Pelican – Ataraxia/Taraxis

When a band is able to hone in on emotion, expand upon it, and then provide catharsis, it is truly a beautiful thing. The skill of doing so often takes years and multiple compositional evolutions to get just right. After three years of silence, Chicago four-piece Pelican have once again proven their mastery of this with Ataraxia/Taraxia; 18 minutes of flowing bliss.

While a mere four songs, the new EP manages to lure in the listener, sonically captivating with a series of shortened, albeit complete compositions. Each of the 4 songs featured were recorded in different locations, a method that one would think could disrupt the syncopation of the work. Instead, the tracks complement each other in their brevity, and at no point does the music feel fractured.

Opening track “Ataraxia” (translation: “peace of mind”) intrigues in its unsettling, eerie use of pulsation and sparse acoustics. The jarring opening chords of “Lathe Biosas” heighten the alluring anxiety before throwing itself into a sweet reprieve of simplistic, guitar and drum driven calm. Monstrous riffs are interspersed throughout, a back and forth exercise.

Following is the crawling “Parasite Colony”, whose pacing is befitting of its namesake. It’s darker composition is heavy on the echo effect, but does not lose the guitars in the reverb. Rounding out the series is “Taraxis”, a sibling of “Ataraxia” in its leaning on acoustics. The use of bell-like tones provide a calming lull before the track explodes into a fuzzed distortion. The track ends bluntly, a nice change up from the usual drawn-out looping or reverberation. In like a demented lamb, out like a lion.

Pelican – Ataraxia/Taraxis tracklist:

“Ataraxia”
“Lathe Biosis”
“Parasite Colony”
“Taraxis”

The Lumineers – The Lumineers

When indie folk transformed into a mainstream phenomenon a few years ago, nearly every bar’s jukebox became best buds with Mumford and Sons’ “Little Lion Man.” The beer slugging sing-along maintained a steady repeat for an overly extensive period of time, but luckily transcended into a new level of acceptance of folk genres. While indie gods like Fleet Foxes, Neutral Milk Hotel and Bon Iver are a mainstay in the culture, it’s undeniable that pop-fused acts have had an influence in the growth and expansion of folk music of various kinds.

The Lumineers have already breached a gap between independent, country and alternative genres. Their debut release, “Ho Hey” was released on March 9, 2012 for play on CMT, VH1 and MTV, a likely feat by Taylor Swift, but The Lumineers are charming and quite entertaining. “Ho Hey” is warm and comforting. Lullaby-like melodies chant soft and sweet love-torn vocals. Their vintage, old time country sound is bright in this track. Unlike some of the deeper tunes like “Slow it Down” and “Morning Song,” The Lumineers find a way to create a song with playful layers amongst sing-a-long lyrics.

The Denver-based trio – Wesley Schultz, Jeremiah Fraites, Neyla Pekarek – sings of love and loss in their nostalgic self-titled debut album. Their lovelorn, retro style is complemented by soft vocals and classic harmonies. “Dead Sea” is a lovely melody of strings with a 1950s tinge. This song, like a few others, is bound by the raw passion Lumineers so gracefully exude. The Lumineers is an easy listen; something to instantly put a smile on your face.

Amongst the lust, there is always sorrow. After beginning to play after the loss of Josh Friates, Jeremiah’s brother and Schultz’s close friend, the two drove their emotion into their music. “Slow it Down,” a track seemingly influenced by this tragedy in its shell, is piled high with emotions. Schultz’s vocals are passionate and bold. Soft guitar slowly plays as the background to a meaningful story.

The Lumineers create a song flow that will grasp attention at every turn. “Big Parade” is a steady build-up powered by rolling drums, gliding strings and the gentle chant of “Oh my my, oh hey hey.” They make sure not to explode too quickly, though. Each verse is a touch louder. Clapping ensues, and the band proves once again to be capable of a sing-along. A blessed reverie takes form in “Charlie Boy,” but the album quickly peaks again with the fuzzy, piano-driven “Flapper Girl.” In vintage flavor, this tune is a feel good love song. Following suit to tracks like “Classy Girls,” this track is best tailored for poodle skirts and small town living.

It’s highly likely that The Lumineers will gain mainstream attention, and perhaps end in drunken “clog” dancing. The trio’s versatility on their debut album shows depth and their pop sensibility translates well across the broad folk genre. The Lumineers have a heavy load of tour dates coming up with sold-out shows in Boston, New York and Philadelphia. The trio will also be making appearances at Summer Camp, Wakarusa and Hang Out Music Fest maxing out their summer until August.

The Lumineers – The Lumineers tracklist

“Flowers in Your Hair”
“Classy Girls”
“Submarines”
“Dead Sea”
“Ho Hey”
“Slow it Down”
“Stubborn Love”
“Big Parade”
“Charlie Boy”
“Flapper Girl”
“Morning Song”

Hoots & Hellmouth – Salt

If Mumford & Sons, The Avett Brothers and Brett Dennen had an affair, their love-child would be Hoots & Hellmouth. Led by fiery carrot top Sean Hoots (guitar and vocals), the band’s latest studio album, Salt, is rich in rhythm and soul.

The album opens with track “Why Would You Not Want Want To Go There?” It’s a great introduction to Hoots’ song-writing skills and the acoustic strings (guitars, banjo, mandolin, upright bass, etc.) that can be expected on the rest of Salt. “I’ve built such a fanciful kingdom in my head / Say you don’t want to go there? / Why would you not want to go there?” sings Hoots. The song not only sets the mood for the album, it also exemplifies the group’s foundation in roots music (which touches on bluegrass, gospel, alternative country, blue and folk).

Salt is one of those albums that can be listened to front start to finish without feeling the need to skip through tracks. Instead of being divided by “stronger” and “weaker” songs, it’s more like faster versus slower pieces. The band is all about rhythm and beat—whether it’s coming from drummer Mike Reilly or from the collaborative foot-stomping of the quartet. It’s enough to make even the most static listener bob their head. For every upbeat song, (such as “Apple Like A Wrecking Ball” with Todd Erk on upright bass and Reilly brushing the snare drum), there is a softer, slower track to compliment it (like the melodic and elegant “City Lights On A Country Ceiling”).

Similar to a jam band, but with more organization and focus, Hoots & Hellmouth’s music sways through Salt’s 10-song track list with ease. Although the tunes are dynamic and feature characteristics from multiple genres—soul, country, rock, alternative—nothing about the album feels out of place or missing. Along with the occasional tambourine and harmonica, the group creates sounds that will get every listener on their feet, whether they’re at home alone, an audience member at a concert or squished on a subway.

The album opens with track “Why Would You Not Want Want To Go There?” It’s a great introduction to Hoots’ songwriting skills and the acoustic strings (guitars, banjo, mandolin, upright bass, etc.) that can be expected on the rest of Salt. “I’ve built such a fanciful kingdom in my head / Say you don’t want to go there? / Why would you not want to go there?” sings Hoots. The song not only sets the mood for the album, it also exemplifies the group’s foundation in roots music (which touches on bluegrass, gospel, alternative country, blue and folk).

Hoots & Hellmouth – Salt tracklist:

“Why Would You Not Want To Go There?”
“I Don’t Mind Your Cussing”
“Lay Low”
“Apple Like a Wrecking Ball”
“Ocean, Open Wide”
“City Lights on a Country Ceiling”
“Shorthand for a Natural Man”
“The Ache”
“Great Day in the Morning”
“Being Born Again”

AU – Both Lights

As bold moves go, AU’s opening track “Epic” is a doozy. From the first skittering drum blasts to the noodling guitar to the turbulent bass, the track coalesces into something astoundingly beautiful, a moving piece of psych-y art-pop. Luke Wyland, the singular mastermind of AU around which hordes of contributing members orbit, crafts an opener that unfolds like well-thought out anthemic pop music more joyous and spazzy than Coldplay, but unafraid of its own monstrosity. “Epic” is a microcosm for the idea of how an album should work in the macro.

It’s maddening, then, that Both Lights, AU’s fourth proper LP, dives too far into the flailing pop references, constantly vascillating between retrieving that gigantic pop ecstasy and wading through more experimental and plaintive moments. Why, just the next track down on the list from “Epic,” “Get Alive,” is a mass of almost Sufjan Stevens’ banjo plucking, trumpet blurps and woodwind work. It holds together reasonably well, but by the end there’s a terrifying sense that Wyland could lose hold of his tenuous and ambitious pop juggling act. One could technically draw a clear line of sight from Wyland down to Ed Droste, Avey Tare or Panda Bear, whose auteur sensibility has served them exceedingly well in their growth as pop artists. Both Lights, however, doesn’t belong in the stratosphere of Veckatimest or Strawberry Jam, saying nothing of Feels or Merriweather Post Pavilion.

But to discuss how much Wyland can resemble and somewhat successfully ape buzzier popsmiths would deny that his noodling results in some beautiful soundscapes. “Crazy Idol” is nothing if not a choral pop tune, but Wyland’s unique and pleasantly soulful croon lends the track an R&B vibe that can sometimes come off fake in the hands of his references. In better moments like “Solid Gold,” Wyland nearly pulls off a convincing John Legend impression. “Why I Must” goes gleefully nuts before descending into regrettable off-melody oddball screwiness, only to be curtailed by the languid and gorgeous “Go Slow,” which punctuates “Crazy Idol” style vocals with a pitter-patter of piano keys. This softer, gentler Wyland would be welcome as a closer to such an exhausting album were it not for the dirge-ridden disappointment that is the closer, “Don’t Lie Down.”

As taxing as Wyland and AU have become in terms of what seems to be a clear case of musical ADD, Both Lights is a surprisingly breezy album to listen to completely. Clocking in at around forty minutes, the record packs so much literate complexity into the running time that it’s pointless to try and sift a cogent narrative from it. Instead, the best course of action is to simply listen and appreciate. Ironically, what separates the “Brother Sport” soundalike “Solid Gold” from being as transcendent as its ancestor is the same thing that makes it almost more of an easy listen. AU, and Luke Wyland, do not require highbrow critical context to appreciate his experimental pop – instead, the pleasure and pain of Both Lights comes from accepting Wyland nonsensically complex mind and parsing out the best bits.

AU – Both Lights tracklist:

“Epic”
“Get Alive”
“Crazy Idol”
“OJ”
“The Veil”
“Solid Gold”
“Today/Tonight”
“Why I Must”
“Go Slow”
“Old Friend”
“Don’t Lie Down”