Pop 'stache

The Weeknd is strong and dedicated, and he knows it. His latest, Echoes of Silence, places a unique spin on the latest hip-hop trend that throws new beats on older songs, sampling heavily within the last year. The Weeknd does it his own way just as he did with the entire R&B/hip-hop genre. He slams down all other attempts to reinvent other classics by simply covering a song and not sampling it–which borrows from, but does not fully copy–and performing it with heavy rock and R&B intensity.

In “D.D.,” The Weeknd reincarnates Michael Jackson as he proclaims “Dirty Diana” with glory and fine intent. This starts the album by shutting down every other force and demanding attention from its audience. It sounds like a work of his own, which it partly is, but at the end of the day, it’s still Jackson’s. How could this have happened so swiftly?

Biggie has a legendary freestyle with Tupac that’s been mixed by every DJ with a spare beat where he drops the line, “My slow flow’s remarkable,” noting that an MC of his caliber is able to shapeshift when the situation calls for it. B.I.G. ripped everything from Diddy club bangers to the infamous collaboration with Bone Thugs-n-Harmony, “Notorious Thugs,” where he adapted to the Cleveland quartet’s tongue-twisting style. Jay-Z used to spit a mile a minute when he was in the underground, blazing on tracks with Big L like “Da Graveyard” where he hit a level that was almost impossible to decipher. But Jay realized that to get his rhymes across, he needed to slow it down so that the words resonated with the listener. Even Busta Rhymes has the ability to tame his tongue down when needed. The fact is, most of the best MCs in the game can speed up the tempo when needed and shine while doing it. The speed-rap phenomenon is looked at by outsiders as an awesome talent, but to hip-hop purists, it’s a novelty. Sure, it’s dope to hear Twista go off every now and then with this world-records cadence, but when has he ever really dropped a solid album? If artists aren’t able to slow it down and still resonate or at least fill their Nascar-bars with substance, they make themselves vulnerable when trying to put together a complete work.

Yelawolf is the latest casualty of the novelty. Making his name in the underground, he put out a few decent songs such as “Kickin’” where his fast-paced delivery and hicked-out, Alabama drawl was a nice change of pace from some of the monotony of hip-hop. But with further releases such as this summer’s ironically spelled Trunk Muzik 0-60 mixtape, the novelty just started to wear thin, despite grasping the attention of Eminem, who drafted the 31-year-old rookie to be a part of this Shady 2.0 reboot. The thinking was, with a genius and respected MC guiding his way, maybe the Gadsden, Ala., native could cultivate writing worthy of the flow. Not only is the writing subpar, half the time he abandoned his trademark flow on his debut, Radioactive, and tried to chop it up. What a terrible mistake. The dreadful storytelling and inconsistent delivery makes it hard to figure out why Em would cosign on this dude with an indescribable hairstyle and fetish for tie-dye hoodies.

What Radioactive lacks in catchiness, it lacks even more in intelligence. Failed love songs such as “Good Girl” and “Write Your Name” would make even the biggest meth addict with butterfly-infused, ex-boyfriend tattoos think twice before jumping into Yela’s box Chevy. “Radio” is a cry for the golden days of music, which ironically would never have a shot at even being played on an independent college radio station’s “which song is worse” call-in feature. When asked about one of the singles, “Throw It Up,” Kid Dangerous Clothing’s Creative Director Dan Agnew replied, “It makes me want to fucking kill myself.”

There’s not much redeeming value coming out of Radioactive. Maybe the fan base Yelawolf has built up will love it, but it’s hard to come to terms with the fact that this record was even made. It’s a tough listen to say the least.

Yelawolf – Radioactive tracklist:

1. “Radioactive (Intro)”
2. “Get Away” (featuring Shawty Fatt and Mystikal)
3. “Let’s Roll” (featuring Kid Rock)
4. “Hard White (Up in the Club)” (featuring Lil Jon)
5. “Growin’ Up in the Gutter” (featuring Rittz)
6. “Throw It Up” (featuring Gangsta Boo and Eminem)
7. “Good Girl”
8. “Made in the U.S.A.”
9. “Animal” (featuring Fefe Dobson)
10. “The Hardest Love Song in the World”
11. “Write Your Name”
12. “Everything I Love the Most”
13. “Radio”
14. “Slumerican Shitizen” (featuring Killer Mike)
15. “The Last Song”

Of all the rappers who made forays into acting (Mos Def, 50 Cent, Ludacris), Common seemed most poised to be truly taken seriously, to have his hip-hop career separated from his thespian ambitions. Even from his first fictional role in Smokin’ Aces, Common was always natural, exhibiting a cool calm that elevated the largely shoddy scripts he chose to be a part of. So when Common threw himself headlong into the television world, grabbing second lead on “meh” AMC drama Hell On Wheels, one would be forgiven for thinking that the underrated career of Chicago’s minor-key Aught success story (the major-key blow-up being Kanye West) was over.

Confounding as ever, Common releases the awkwardly titled The Dreamer/The Believer, his ninth studio LP and first with hit-making Chicago beatman No I.D. since 1997’s One Day It’ll All Make Sense. As he is wont to do, No I.D. turns Common’s career around from his recent ill-advised foray into the Neptunes’ territory back to the R&B side of hip-hop. Breezy and relatively well-edited, Common rebounds back to acceptability, a musical development akin to his first post-Be effort, Finding Forever.

Purported by Common himself to be a more positively energized record, Dreamer bears out this conscious euphoria with all the subtlety expected of a hip-hop album—Maya Angelou makes a disappointing appearance, and the necessary Pops cameo gets its own unnecessary closing track. But Common is always at his best poetically spitting platitudes, and the times he tries to go hard (“Sweet”) seem awkward and tacked-on at best. First two singles “Ghetto Dreams” and “Blue Sky” are typical hip-hop singles, building off acceptably effervescent hooks, the latter particularly shining from an ELO sample. Most tracks have an unnamed group of R&B crooners pumping a sugary chorus, Common taking a step back and contributing his two verses before stepping out. This leads the middle of the album toward a blending bit of moderate acceptability without many distinguishing features. Tracks such as “Celebrate” and “Lovin’ I Lost” are Common’s natural habitat, but there’s precious little variety here to make it seem like Lonnie is doing anything but painting by numbers. Common is middle ground on almost all tracks here, parsing out rich-man flaunts, horny-boy come-ons and on-the-street poetry. Just like his film roles, Common inhabits a comfortable calm—never anything that stands out too far, but also nothing that disappoints.

Unfortunately, that comfort is the most disappointing part of Dreamer. When John Legend arrives to do the chorus on “The Believer,” his powerful croon is a blast of energy into what has essentially devolved into a hangout album. Common’s interest wanes from song to song, usually depending on whether the guest he has next to him is credited or not, be it Angelou, Legend or a fairly restrained Nas. But through the excellently produced middle portions, the reality that Common was more focused on his acting this year than his recording becomes apparent. No I.D. gets to plead his case for being the hush-hush reason West and Common both made it out of the Chi—Dreamer sometimes feels like it should be filed under No I.D. instead of Common.

Common’s foray into techno-inspired hip-hop was a flop, righteously so. After the excellence of Like Water for Chocolate and Be, Common has earned the benefit of the doubt when easing back into his comfort zone. But The Dreamer/The Believer is too inconsistent in message to be positive and too simple to be a fitting follow-up. Common still raps with an ancestor’s wisdom and when he tries, he can pull magical things out of his hat (“The Believer”), but his other ventures rightly sway his vision. Maybe there’s still a blissful, worthy successor to Be rolling around Common’s brain; The Dreamer/The Believer, as good as it sometimes is, just isn’t that.

Common – The Dreamer/The Believer tracklist:

1. “The Dreamer” (featuring Maya Angelou)
2. “Ghetto Dreams” (featuring Nas)
3. “Blue Sky”
4. “Sweet”
5. “Gold”
6. “Lovin’ I Lost”
7. “Raw (How You Like It)”
8. “Cloth”
9. “Celebrate”
10. “Windows”
11. “The Believer” (featuring John Legend)
12. “Pops Belief” (featuring Lonnie “Pops” Lynn)

With an active musical career that surpasses the lifespan of many musicians, Mark E. Smith and his band The Fall are outliers, both statistically and in the music community. Smith and his perpetually changing cast of bandmates (although the group has been relatively stable as of late) have lasted 30 years in this business and without ever quite falling into total obscurity.

Well, they’ve never fallen into it, really; they’ve just always sorta been there.

But that’s entirely by design.

Even on his 29^th album, Smith keeps up the antagonistic aggression that seems to challenge you to hate The Fall, like some sort of misanthropic attack toward his listeners. While this would seem like grounds for despising Smith, it’s actually kind of endearing. And once you understand Smith’s angle, you start to like the music on Ersatz G.B.

However, if judged solely on face value, this album can be excruciating. Artists who battle with the idea of trying to gain fans’ respect while hating the world or looking down upon it generally are or will become self-indulgent. Case in point: Smith is known for having lyrics blown dry to a crisp with his wry sense of humor (refer to “Laptop Dog”), but anyone who expects a listener to tolerate his disinterested vocals over spinning riffs to the point where they could pick up on the humor clearly has a love for himself that eclipses empathizing with an audience.

Because of this and a few catchy singles, The Fall, during its history, has received reviews that range from horrible to genius; Evidently, critics can’t decide whether to believe Smith’s projection of himself (brilliant rebel) or their gut feeling (bitter oddball).

By Smith’s own admission, Ersatz G.B. is gloomier than his earlier work. The riffs are more guttural. Smith’s lyrics are more cynical. A heavier dosage of keyboard gives this album a spookier emptiness than The Fall’s others. The effort is noticed but not necessarily appreciated.

This is most apparent in “Greenway,” where Smith’s vocals stumble into being cartoonish as he softly rumbles a growl into his voice for every “Grrrr-eenway.” Because he’s singing over a slashing, metal guitar, one’s mind turns to thoughts of Zappa or Les Claypool. It’s hard to embrace the feeling he was trying evoke.

Smith’s vocals are switched out with keyboardist Eleni Poulou’s in “Happi Song.” What’s more miraculous than Smith giving up his frontman duties is that he was able to find someone with a more sedated vocal effort than his own. “If I can see/And you can see/Why can’t they see?” is dully repeated throughout the track and sung with the enthusiasm of a passive-aggressive teen going through vocal exercises her parents signed her up for.

One becomes easily frazzled listening to this album. Smith said that lighter tracks were excluded from this album for the sake of cohesion. Knowing that, one has a hard time not wishing the album took a departure from its dreariness.

Maybe on the 30th album, Smith and Co. will find the right blend.

The Fall – Ersatz G.B. tracklist:

1. “Cosmos 7”
2. “Taking Off”
3. “Nate Will Not Return”
4. “Mask Search”
5. “Greenway”
6. “Happi Song”
7. “Monocard”
8. “Laptop Dog”
9.  “I’ve Seen Them Come”
10. “Age of Chang”

Sometimes, you just wish new “old” music would come out. That glowing, old-timey feel has slowly vanished at the behest of hypercompression, loudness and digitization. At best, you get artists informed by it (Adele, the late Amy Winehouse), artists who record like it: (The Walkmen, Drive-By Truckers), and artists who take it and try to morph it into something contemporary (Gnarls Barkley). But how often do we have someone basking in the thing itself? Put aside originality; here is an album meant solely (read: soul-ly) to be enjoyed.

Serving as house band for New York venue Daptone Records, Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings have been around in some form or another since the mid-1990s—with an aesthetic that sounds like it came out of the mid-1960s. After five studio albums, Soul Time! is a compilation of their live hits never previously laid to tape. For those who haven’t had the chance to catch them in their Brooklyn abode, unfortunately, this release is UK only. And by all accounts, The Kings have one of the most invigorating funk shows this side of the drip. They’ve even gone as far to hail themselves “the world’s premier live soul act.”

Actually, The Dap-Kings’ most recognizable recording is barely attributed to them at all. On Winehouse’s album Back to Black, they laid down a majority of the horns, including those in “Rehab” and “You Know I’m No Good.” Compare the two sounds side by side—Boscoe Mann’s production for Jones versus Mark Ronson’s for Winehouse—and you see firsthand the generational divide between recording quality: same band, same aesthetic, different producer.

Soul Time! is so comprehensively funky, so period-accurate that you could fool just about anyone into thinking this is a lost Tamla recording.

Especially “Longer and Stronger” (written on the occasion of Jones’ 50th birthday), with its cascading horns and rotary organ. It’s an album that eschews structure and dynamics in favor of the raw power of a live set. That being said, the album is pitch-perfectly produced; balanced and warm, it touts that ear-ripping James Brown testimony. The band’s arrangements mimic soul in its heyday, before it became prone to the trappings of disco.

“What If We All Stopped Paying Taxes?” was written in 2002 on the eve of two wars and is just as appealing a prospect today; it’s a dipping, jiving round with influences of Afrobeat’s drone and riffiness creeping in, where Jones cries, “They can’t take nothing from us/That we ain’t ready to give.” Some frontwomen could take a page from her book: she is in the proudest tradition of Mavis Staples and Aretha Franklin, “owning it” and empowering others through her performance.

Because Jones and the Dap-Kings were born after their time, they may never be fully appreciated or thrust suddenly into the limelight. Who cares! Grab your record player, call up some cats (Don Cornelius while you’re at it), plug in, plug out and dig it.

Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings – Soul Time! tracklist:

1. “Genuine, Pt.1 “
2. “Genuine, Pt. 2”
3. “Longer and Stronger”
4. “He Said I Can”
5. “I’m Not Gonna Cry”
6. “When I Come Home”
7. “What If We All Stopped Paying Taxes?”
8. “Settling In”
9. “Ain’t No Chimneys in the Projects”
10. “New Shoes”
11. “Without a Trace”
12. “Inspiration Information”

Named after the working-class revolutionaries of the French Revolution, and born 200 years after said revolution ended, this NYC septet have released their seventh full-length record, featuring 16 slices of passionate French indie pop.

But to call it that is really a misnomer. ‘Pataphysical Graffiti is a collection of rock tunes that borrows the language and instrumentation of the genre but removes the “twee” and “preciousness” that one might expect to hear from a group that does “French indie pop.”

One need not look further than the title of record for the best evidence that this is really a rock record.

‘Pataphysical Graffiti was inspired by the idea of an imaginary meeting of the Led Zeppelin double album Physical Graffiti and the French writer Alfred Jarry’s “science” of ‘pataphysics, which is almost as difficult to explain as the origin of the band’s name (apparently, the French aristocracy pre-Revolution wore fancy knee breech pants called culottes, and the working-class revolutionaries refused to wear that kind of pants).

‘Pataphysics (the apostrophe preceding the word was mandated by Jarry, to underscore the pun potential in his native French) has been influential in philosophy, art, literature and music, most significantly in the works of Jean Baudrillard, Marcel Duchamp, Rube Goldberg, Jean Genet, Eugene Ionesco, Pablo Lopez (who coined the term ‘pataphor), John Cage, The Beatles, Soft Machine, Acid Mothers Temple, and most recently when LA-based noise-pop group Autolux included a track on their excellent 2010 release Transit Transit entitled “The Science Of Imaginary Solutions.”

Alright, so the conceit behind ‘Pataphysical Graffiti is pretty heady stuff. The good news is that one need know none of these haughty intellectual details to derive plenty of listening pleasure from this collection of rock songs, which are at some turns rollicking and other turns meditative, without slowing down the pace.

There’s the obligatory Serge Gainsbourg-informed ’60s keyboard bed and the jokey (but unforced) can-can flourishes, but what’s surprising about ‘Pataphysical Graffiti, and perhaps how it aligns with the “heavy metal” approach of Led Zeppelin, is how much this rock music really does rock. With driving drum beats, guitar riffs that alternate between crunchy and pulsing, and a gifted sense of melody, the ensemble confidently assays through this double album’s worth of material, and it’s also impressive what a streamlined sound the seven-piece group with the funny faux French names produces.

There’s no question that some of the aforementioned philosophical depth is matched in the lyrics of Les Sans Culottes, but given that it’s all sung in French, listeners who are not fluent won’t find the words a stumbling block and they can just sit back and enjoy the music.

Literalists with web access have the option of going to their website for English translations (especially helpful for those whose best guess as to the meaning of the band name is “Those Without Pants”), but the songs do stand on their own without having to know what the words mean.

Given that the group’s moniker was inspired by the working class revolutionaries that fought against the French aristocracy, it also comes as no surprise that terms like “bourgeoisie” and “vive la difference” do stick out, and their critiques include sunbathing, love, consumerism¸ etc. But “Bicycle Day” functions as a love letter to the bicycle, one of Jarry’s favorite pastimes and a form of transportation that was instrumental in early psychedelic experiments by Sandoz and has come to be a focal point in psychedelic music as well. To wit: “A superfantastic day/Reality is a little elastic/The dream is the reality/Bicycle day all year long.”

But aside from that Tour De France and the indictment of rampant consumerism and pop culture consumption on “The Biz,” it’s a pleasant surprise that French is not only a language of love that seems to ooze sensuality, but that’s a meme that’s repeated throughout and undergirds many of the songs. So after the record’s through, a listener who feels all tingly inside is not just suffering from an overactive imagination, even if they’re not fluent in French.

Les Sans Culottes – Pataphysical Graffiti tracklist:

1. “Où Est Où Est?”
2. “Sur La Plage”
3. “Jour Du Vélo”
4. “Comme L’Amour”
5. “Oiseau Chaud”
6. “Le Biz”
7. “Hypermarché”
8. “Gangsteur D’Amour”
9. “Hypocrite Lecteur”
10. “New York, USA”
11. “Triple Crème”
12. “If You See Something, Say Something”
13. “Sartre et L’Homard”
14. “Chaussures D’Ascenseur”
15. “Le Chemin”
16. “Magic Baguette”

Dream up an album full of cloud-surfing, hazy sunsets and calming waves crashing in a dulled sequence. Imagine an artistic collage of vibrant colors bleeding together in a hypnotic trip—not necessarily in a drug-induced sense, but in a manner of mindful hallucination. It’s a journey of the mind created to simply get away from it all.

Rangers’ latest album, Pan Am Stories, is a dream like this one. It’s a collection of sounds from left to right, front and back and twirled inside-out. Sound bites are woven together to make a song of indifferent moods and unbalanced thoughts.

One-man outfit Joe Knight creates a collection of lo-fi tunes with just enough distortion to think there might be something wrong with the audio. In 2009, Knight released Low Cut Fades on cassette, filled with psychedelic guitar riffs equally matched by melodies likely to be found in a cheesy, 1980s thriller. His vintage-tinged tunes are perfectly suited for a Casio boom box and acid-washed jeans.

Since then, Knight has taken his nostalgic tunes and given them a modern spin. The effervescent road-trip anthems now have garage-rock guitar licks for a more universal flavor without demeaning his prior grimy, cassette-bound manner.

A Texas native and current San Francisco resident, Knight is a mysterious character. Revealing his certainly fuzzy vocals only sporadically, it’s hard to decipher his persona.

Pan Am Stories is a steady progression from below sea level to outer space. Beginning with gurgled notes in “Zombies (Day)” and ending with spacious guitar riffs in “Bad Flan,” Rangers spans the theme of travel on a different level.

The grumbled, chill-wave “Zombies (Day)” is not the usual undead anthem expected. It’s bubbly, as though those flesh-eating-but-endlessly-addictive creatures aren’t so terrifying. Bouncy melodies dance around electro-pop beats with a heavily processed glaze. Yet the counter, “Zombies (Night)” is more organically produced with guitar and cymbals rattling in a dreamy texture bound by echoed vocals. Although merely understandable, these vocals are the most distinguished in the album.

Reaching 13-and-a-half minutes, “Zeke’s Dream” is a bedroom pop fantasy. Like a real dream, bits and pieces are sown together without distinct transition or reason. The settings are distinct, but the transportation is unmemorable. Love-struck beats turn into extraterrestrial melodies then into atmospheric tones before quickly evaporating into a choppy abyss.

Reaching the full pop-potential, “Luncheon Ghana” is configured with sensible riffs and head-bobbing beats. It’s a mellow surf-rock jam with subtle psychedelic circles and minimal contortion.

Knight takes storytelling into a world of mangled vocals and tattered instrumentals in Pan Am Stories, yet the product in its entirety is relatable. Just when the album is seemingly over and “Bad Flan” is nearing the five-minute mark, Rangers quickly reappears in a full-circle attempt. Manipulated, layered and heavily processed tones come back for one last glazed hoorah in all their dreamy, fluffy glory.

Rangers – Pan Am Stories tracklist:

1. “Zombies (Day)”
2. “Zeke’s Dream”
3. “Sacred Cows”
4. “John Is the Last of a Dying Breed”
5. “Bronze Casket”
6. “Jane’s Well”
7. “Zombies (Night)”
8. “Luncheon Ghana”
9. “Khyber Pass”
10. “Podunk Baal”
11. “Conversations on the Jet Stream”
12. “The Mule”
13. “Bad Flan”

The Georgia Theatre, located in a mecca of modern music, Athens, Ga., has seen legendary acts such as The Police and R.E.M. grace its stage, and it’s recovered from a fire that almost cost the city its landmark. But, on Oct. 7, it was blessed with an artist unlike any that had walked through its doors before. The Sign Up tour made its way to Athens that night, and by the end of the third verse of “You See Me,” the crowd started to get a glimpse of what exactly it was they were signing up for: Camp.

A little more than a month after Donald Glover’s alter ego, Childish Gambino, almost ignited another fire in the theatre, he released the most unique piece of art to come out of the genre in ages. In short, it’s modern-day Shakespeare. It’s a 13-track concept album full of 13 singular pieces. The listener is able to watch Glover grow up before their ears as he exceptionally blends nostalgic references from his childhood (“… playing with this Land Before Time toy from Pizza Hut,” “I said I want a Full House, they said, ‘You got it, dude’”) with braggadocios tales (“Why does every black actor gotta rap some? I don’t know, all I know is I’m the best one”) and heartfelt heartbreak (“I’m a ghost and you know this, that’s why we broke up in the first place,” “So we’re done? This the real shit? We used to hold hands like field trips!”).

Using the metaphor of a summer’s worth of camp, he’s able to therapeutically address issues he had to deal with at an early age, such as his parents working three jobs so that they could send him to a private school for a better education only to be made fun of relentlessly for not being black enough by blacks yet fitting the black mold perfectly by whites. Glover forces the listener to examine the world that we live in with a microscope, except they might be too busy getting lost in the beat.

The production (predominantly from him and bandmate Ludwig) is a huge step up from his previous Internet-only releases and is exceptional in its own right. But, the music only provides a backdrop for Glover’s lyrical assault. “Bonfire” is the best Lil’ Wayne song that isn’t performed by Wayne. Where Weezy lacks in trying to lump together half-assed metaphors, Glover shines (“Put my soul on the track like shoes did,” “Made the beat then murdered it … Casey Anthony”). “Backpackers” might feature the hardest bars to ever come from a dude that lived in Williamsburg, giving the middle finger to haters in a self-deprecating way, all while intertwining a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles reference. From choir packed choruses (“Sunrise”) to verses with a laid-back, early 1990s West Coast feel (“Fire Fly”) the variation is almost as seamless as the content.

Glover holds nothing back on his first major release, and the results are phenomenal. He ends “That Power,” and the album, with a spoken story, about why he’s that open with his audience. “So I learned, cut out the middle man, make it all for everybody, always,” he says after talking about a girl misusing his trust. He’s grown up, while still holding onto the aspects of his youth that made him who is today. “The truth is I got on the bus a boy, and I never got off the bus. … I still haven’t.” Here’s hoping he never does.

Childish Gambino – Camp tracklist:

1. “Outside”
2. “Fire Fly”
3. “Bonfire”
4. “All the Shine”
5. “Letter Home”
6. “Heartbeat”
7. “Backpackers”
8. “L.E.S.”
9. “Hold You Down”
10. “Kids”
11. “You See Me”
12. “Sunrise”
13. “That Power”

Nostalgia is all the rage. In some instances groups have reunited for well executed reunion tours and new recordings, and for others it has been nothing more than cashing in on past popularity. For Naughty By Nature its 20th anniversary signaled a reunion of the group’s three core members and a brand new release, Anthem Inc., an album that sadly falls into the second grouping.

Anthem Inc. is the first Naughty By Nature album to feature the group’s founding members, MCs Treach and Vin Rock and DJ Kay Gee since the 1999 release of Nineteen Naughty Nine: Nature’s Fury. In a sense, Anthem Inc. is a return to form as it sees the group play with the dynamics that saw it garner mainstream success with its self-titled effort 20 years ago. The album’s first proper track “Naughty Nation” is vintage Naughty By Nature. Kay Gee’s beat recalls the group’s best efforts while Treach and Vin Rock offer solid verses amidst a effective hook.

After an enticing start the group quickly reveals that it doesn’t have much diversity in its arsenal. Much of Kay Gee’s production is run-of-the-mill and is hardly identifiable from the numerous throwback producers currently in the game.

Even with Treach and Vin Rock displaying their respective skills it is rarely enough to make Anthem Inc. feel like anything other than an album full of “Hey, remember the ’90s?” tracks, as the line about “Angela Bassett’s assets” in “Guns and Butta” (feat. Du It All, Black, Dueja, and B. Wells) evinces.

On the album’s last proper track “Doozit” (feat. Syleena Johnson) the group tells you how many different ways it can “doozit” and how many diverse groups it can “doozit” with. It appears that Naughty By Nature is partaking in the futile practice of showing how much street cred it still has as elder statesmen. Its strong, upbeat hook does help salvage the song, but it leads in to the true feature of Anthem Inc. that most are interested in—20th Anniversary versions of the trio’s hits.

There’s nothing all too different about such massively popular songs such as “Hip-Hop Hooray” or “O.P.P.,” but they do allow for Naughty By Nature’s party anthems to live on. It may not be an essential update, but it does prove that the group’s earlier work can still hold up, even if the lyrics in the choruses are the only words that a casual listener would still remember.

Twenty years on, Naughty By Nature is attempting to prove it is still relevant. It may not be effective in doing so, but it still has a few anthems left to get out there. The group was never one to make huge statements or push the genre forward, and it certainly doesn’t do that here. Anthem Inc. is a nice way to look back at the ’90s, but beyond that it is nothing that warrants revisiting.

 Naughty By Nature – Anthem Inc. tracklist:

1. “Anthem Inc. Intro”
2. “Naughty Nation”
3. “Throw It Up CD (feat. Tah G Ali)”
4. “I Gotta Lotta”
5. “Perfect Party (feat. Joe)”
6. “Flags (feat. Jaheim & Balewa Muhammad)”
7. “Name Game (Remember) (feat. Kate Nauta)”
8. “Lovin’ U More (feat. Queen Latifah)”
9. “Gunz & Butta (feat. Du It All, Black, Dueja & B. Wells)”
10. “I Know What It’s Like”
11. “Ride”
12. “Impeach The Planet (feat. Du It All, Black & Fam)”
13. “Doozit (feat. Syleena Johnson)”
14. “Uptown Anthem [20th Anniversary Version]”
15. “Hip Hop Hooray [20th Anniversary Version]”
16. “O.P.P. [20th Anniversary Version]”
17. “Feel Me Flow [20th Anniversary Version]”
18. “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright [20th Anniversary Version]”

This year’s Fun Fun Fun Fest in Austin in early November was the North American live debut of Keep Shelly in Athens, a Greek boy-girl duo with a minimalist attitude of all things electronic. Known only as KSiA, these two have successfully maintained mystery in the media, and until their first U.S. performance, their faces were even unconfirmed.

Nearly a year since their debut release In Love with Dusk, their follow-up EP, Our Own Dream, is a collage of vintage and futuristic tones. It’s a mish-mash of dream wave, dubstep, hip-hop and techno coated in a thin layer of fog. These two have successfully combined European and American electronic styles to create an eccentric blend of their own.

The downtempo Balearic style of KSiA is unconventional with skipping, distortion and sped-up samples. Our Own Dream resembles a soundtrack format. The highs and lows are of monstrous proportions from the dreamy opener of “Lazy Noon” to disco-infused “Fairytale.”

This duo will throw a punch with dropped beats and then gently sooth the mind with mellow vocals and ambient tones.

Opening track “Lazy Noon” is purely minimalist lounge-wave. It begins with soothing sounds of ocean waves crashing upon the shore. Slow, steady beats chime in on a hazy repeat. It’s dreamy and sexy; music you’d likely hear in a chic New York boutique or an episode of “Sex and the City.” Looped beats float through spacious vocals with the essence of modern art deco.

But then, the dreamy, Euro beats take a lower tone in title track “Our Own Dream.” Beats surround overhead like a futuristic atmosphere. Thumping in subtle tones of dubstep and hip hop, “Our Own Dream” has a sprinkle of everything. It’s majestic with a cloud of distortion, which is sped up as the song exits.

Closing track, “A) The Rouge Superhero B) Ready to Pay the Price” is a funky and eclectic. The 1980s pop-infused synthesizer continually echoes in the backdrop fronted by DJ scratches for an old school hip-hop feel while soft vocals float with contrasting melodies. Halfway through, the tone takes a turn with metal guitar riffs layered with pulsating beats.

While this mysterious Greek duo is a newbie when it comes to the American scene, their genre-melding and danceable beats are easily translated into the hazy world of atmospheric electronica. Our Own Dream has a little bit of everything. With its wide span, it’d be hard to say that at least one track won’t tickle your fancy.

Keep Shelly in Athens – Our Own Dream tracklist:

1. “Lazy Noon”
2. “Our Own Dream”
3. ABADABAD – “California Birds” (Keep Shelly in Athens remix)
4. “DIY”
5. “Fairytale”
6. “a) The Rogue Superhero b) Ready to Pay the Price”

Listen down The Black Keys catalog—it spans 10 years. That may be hard to believe, but yes, that odd-fangled Akron, Ohio, duo has been around for a decade. It may have been a decade sprinkled in forgettable mediocrity, fizzling singles, a hip-hop album, film soundtracks, Magic Potion, but the good times resoundingly drowned out the bad. For the most part, The Black Keys never faded from our minds, and that’s testament to a near-impossible staying power in an attention-deficit era of music.

The band’s seventh album has big boots to fill. Brothers was an almost universally lauded rock album pairing intricate arrangements and an inspired artistic direction. The Black Keys reached a place where their sound was mature, full-bodied and instantly recognizable. While the special effects flourished and instruments joined the roster, the core remained the same. It’s an ineffable way to grow as a band.

As always, it had its roots in the blues of yore, featuring Dan Auerbach’s sour howl over tight, screaming guitar and the buoyant beating on the skins by Patrick Carney. The boys have come a long way from their minimalist beginnings. YouTube, in its most recent Music Tuesday claims the band “made messy rock a religion.” Junior Kimborough’s widow told Auerbach of their tribute Chulahoma, “You’re about the only one who plays like Junior played.”

Although Auerbach and Carney aren’t quite as “messy” as they were in the early days (recording an album in a 14-hour super session, or in a Rubber Factory), El Camino maintains that raw grittiness that, without, the band would not be The Black Keys. It rode in on a horse called, “Lonely Boy,” a dirty, upbeat ditty led by its slippery riff and sticky chorus. Danger Mouse has now fully entered the equation, putting his rootsy production shine on the album, which he also helped write. He’s still a little in spaghetti mode—“Dead and Gone,” could be a lost tape from Rome—but it’s well-hidden.

A lot of the rawness comes from the eye for detail, using both channels and preserving the roughness of what’s played. You can hear the guitar strings buzzing on “Little Black Submarines,” which begins with a fingerpicked acoustic head where Auerbach sings, “Everybody knows that a broken heart is blind.” The song stops, then jolts back in with an operatically heavy electric finale. The question begged in an otherwise lyrically sensical song: “What are little black submarines?” There are more instances, “Gold on the Ceiling,” is a euphemism for what, exactly? Ah well, it’s easily forgiven by its electric shuffle that pulses under it; it’s the polished, gritty feel that smacks of the Keys’ latest sounds.

El Camino keeps the mastery of texture, layering, the nuance (you can hear Charney’s spontaneous cries in the background) but lacks the magic. Brothers, for every feelgood rocker in the beginning had its long, brooding gut that really brought the listener and rubbed their face in the shit. El Camino is devoid of that—every song is rough and tumble, bouncing happily along, organs sprucing up the space, till it’s out of sight. And out of sight it stays.

The album is at once The Black Keys’ biggest pop step but also their least immersive. Some might cite that as a plus; it’s a trigger-happy, energetic haze but also a skittish, tongue-in-cheek rocker epitomized by the riffiness of “Run Right Back.” Rock’s the thing. The conclusion for The Black Keys post-“Colbert Report” appearance (making fun of their own sellouts) seems to be that they are now a rock band, neé blues. Nevertheless, when was the last time you saw two white boys from Ohio make a bid at blues immortality?

The Black Keys – El Camino tracklist:

1. “Lonely Boy”
2. “Dead and Gone”
3. “Gold on the Ceiling”
4. “Little Black Submarines”
5. “Money Maker”
6. “Run Right Back”
7. “Sister”
8. “Hell of a Season”
9. “Stop Stop”
10. “Nova Baby”
11. “Mind Eraser”

Chicago-based multi-instrumentalist and lyricist Andrew Bird composed Norman for the indie film Norman, directed by Jonathan Segal.

The film follows in the footsteps of indie works such as Juno, telling a story about a sarcastic and quick-witted boy who pretends to have cancer for attention and must deal with the consequences as he becomes a social outcast. Throughout the film, Norman falls in love with the new girl at school who reaches out to him, copes with the death of his mother, and comes to terms with his father, who falls terminally ill.

The score is different than anything produced by Bird thus far. It is intriguing and haunting, with each song about two minutes long. The score adds depth to the plot with songs that range from cold and desperate to ones that bring a breath of fresh air and hope.

The album begins with “Scotch and Milk,” a song that is also featured on the trailer and sets the tone for most of the album. It complements “Hospital,” an appropriately melancholic song. It opens with the same dreadful pulse that we hear in “Scotch and Milk.” The violin makes an array of sounds with its quick push and pull, while the soft vocals and occasional piano notes bring a temporary optimism. The build up and fall of the song gives it a mournful feel, which weighs heavily on the heart and almost pleads for some happier musical moments.

“Arcs and Coulombs” gives the album a touch of desperate romance. “Your serum in my veins and you/You help me not remember the mix.” The addition of drums in the song gives it a happier feel, but some of the lyrics  (“Your candy apple lips have been sinking on my ships/and you’re the one”) come off a bit clichéd.

A lullaby-esque “Night Sky” is bombarded with metaphors and what-if questions that contemplate how two souls could be so fortunate to find each other: “What if we hadn’t been born at the same time/What if you were 75 and I were 9/And I come visit you/Bring you cookies in an old folks’ home/Would you be there alone?” One cannot help but fall in love with the easy genius of the lyrics and acoustic guitar.

There are also three covers on the album, which don’t stray too far from their original renditions, but rather bring a fresh feel to each song. “S.O.S” features Khaela Maricich from The Blow. The dreamlike effect of the song lures listeners into a trance as she begs: “Just this once I’d love to stay/Please if you get a minute would you come and look for me/‘Cause I’m not really here/And so far you are the only who sees.”

Wolf Parade’s “You Are a Runner and I Am My Father’s Son” focuses on the electric guitar, percussion and accordion for a twisted and eerie sound. In Chad VanGaalen’s “Rabid Bits of Time,” the cello and guitar give the song a lonely feel: “You’ve been dead for years/but you never knew/And the rabid bits of time have been eating you/No one knows where we go when we’re dead and when we’re dreaming.” The song introduces a piece that is pessimistic, to say the least. It captures us in a moment of the movie, or maybe those moments in life where we question our existence.

Bird does a wonderful job of making this a soundtrack to Norman’s life, emphasizing themes of loss, sorrow, the rise to maturity and young romance—themes that feel so close, it could be a soundtrack to your life, too.

Andrew Bird – Norman tracklist:

1. “Scotch and Milk”
2. “3:36”
3. “Arcs and Coulombs”
4. “Hospital”
5. “S.O.S” (Performed by The Blow with Richard Swift)
6. “Nice Hat/Exit Sign/Angelo Speaks”
7. “Medicine Chest”
8. “The Kiss/Time and Space/Waterfall”
9. “You Are a Runner and I Am My Father’s Son” (Redux) (Performed by Wolf Parade)
10. “Cancerboy Strikes Again/Monsterstream”
11. “Rabid Bits of Time” (Performed by Chad VanGaalen)
12. “Build Up to the Fall”
13. “Epic Sigh/The Python Connection”
14. “The Bridge”
15. “Night Sky”
16. “Afterspeak/Things Come to a Head”
17. “Darkmatter”