Pop 'stache

The Rip Tide sounds like the natural followup to Beirut’s 2007 release The Flying Club Cup. Zach Condon took a sidestep in 2009 with the band’s March of the Zapotec EP, and his own Holland EP under the Realpeople moniker. Here we see a return to the group’s signature European folk-inflected pop.

“A Candle’s Fire” opens the album with a pump organ followed by jubilant horns. Zach Condon’s unmistakable tenor soars as always. His voice, rich and full of vibrato, can make a bad song good and a good song great. Even singing the bridge, whose melody sounds a lot like CCR’s classic “Have You Ever Seen the Rain,” the man can compel.

“Santa Fe” would make a solid single, merging the light synth-pop styles from the Holland EP with Beirut’s standard sound. By the time “East Harlem” rolls around, it’s clear there’s a stronger pop surge in the music. It’s simple, it’s hooky, yet it stays true to the sound Condon established years ago. While early Beirut albums were outwardly intriguing with a fresh sound and dense arrangements, The Rip Tide plays without pretense. Its tracks slip into the listeners ears and delight them.

That’s not to say Beirut’s music lacked depth—”Nantes,” “Elephant Gun,” “Carousels” and “Postcards from Italy,” among many others, would testify to this—but a lot of the initial appeal was in the heavy dose of Balkan folk applied. The Rip Tide sounds natural, written and performed by established musicians.

There’s a certain subtlety, or a finesse, in the compositions here. Strings and horns are intricately laced throughout, almost always there, but never getting in the way of the hook.

There’s a trade-off, though, because at the same time, the album lacks songs as distinct and powerful as those mentioned above. This is a fairly gentle album, endearing and enchanting, and it’s more than fine to keep it that way. The tracks work well together—in fact, it’s the smoothest play-through in the band’s catalog thus far—and there’s no need to add the extra oomph.

Later highlights include the the title track, the closest there is to a ballad on this one, and the uptempo “Vagabond.”

The album’s release is very well placed. It’s got their most summery vibe yet, perfect for listening at the beach or out on the water. It’s hard not to listen to this and smile.

The Rip Tide is, contrary to the title, very light and airy. It’s easy for this one to just glide right by the listener. However, much like the group’s other output, it’s just as easy to throw it on again. Part of the beauty here is that the album can be listened to as actively or as passively as desired and it will be enjoyable either way.

Beirut – The Rip Tide Tracklist:

1. “A Candle’s Fire”
2. “Santa Fe”
3. “East Harlem”
4. “Goshen”
5. “Payne’s Bay”
6. “The Rip Tide”
7. “Vagabond”
8. “The Peacock”
9. “Port of Call”

Save The Clocktower is a Chicago collective of musicians that goes after dream-pop, but the very mention of its influences and the people it shares the stage with (first name drop, Toro Y Moi) takes more away from its buzz than it gives.

It is a common conundrum facing up-and-coming local bands: Mention a band that is quite ostensibly better than you and risk letting your audience down when you don’t live up to those expectations. Worse yet, you could be totally wrong—hell, Puddle of Mudd cites Led Zeppelin as an influence. On the plus side, because the music world is so disparate and gigantic nowadays, little-known bands need foundations to catch the eye (or ear) of an unknown discoverer. Somewhat bizarrely, Save The Clocktower brings a bit of the chillwave vibe they so readily throw around in their bios to their sophomore LP, Carousel, but also falter from a lack of direction that says more about their youth as a band than their influences.

For the most part, Carousel doesn’t resemble the blog-buzzed, festival-friendly chillwave scene in any way. The members certainly go for something resembling Toro Y Moi on tracks like “Far Apart,” but for the most part the band reaches for more apparent hooks and traditional song structures than the bands they say they emulate. Bands like Toro and Neon Indian go for sugary hooks just like Save The Clocktower does, but unlike the former two, STC doesn’t make anything sonically complex.

Most of the material here could be created using basic guitars, keyboards and sampling, another marker of a youthful, inexperienced band.

Within that overt, sophomore level musicality, Carousel is frequently a “fly in all directions” LP, with the band expanding their sound to both electro-pop and rock, again with mixed results.

They’re better at doing jammy chillwave rip-offs somewhat akin to Ghostland Observatory, on “Take Me There” than embracing dark electro-rock like lead single, “Your Pain.” There are positives to take from STC’s sonic expansion. They do a fairly convincing drugged out Chromeo impression with “The One Thing,” and much of Carousel is indebted to MGMT’s pop sensibilities. STC never seems to grasp MGMT’s pretentious ironic distance or belief that they’re creating art, but that’s more a positive than a negative considering the abomination that Congratulations was.

Lyrically, as is the case with chillwave, there’s not much to find. The sonics are more important here, yet the lyrics frequently drift to trance romance and hushed come-ons. The most interesting part of Carousel’s lyrics are the times STC strays from this—“Taped Noise,” in both sonics and lyrics, goes for Depeche Mode anthemizing with a very mediocre result. A better result might be “They,” which is a drunken lament about the lack of money, coupled with a distant woman. Taken without a hint of irony, “They” could be viewed as a possible step forward for chillwave, an adaptation and absorption of elements of country-folk and drunken boozing. The tumbleweed percussion belies this lack of irony and says that Save The Clocktower is winking at their audience while creating their most sugary song at the same time.

In the end, this defeats Carousel, as Save The Clocktower gives off the impression that, while they strive to be like their buzzy references, the result is more a function of their ability to drop art for a reach at a bigger audience.

Save The Clocktower – Carousel Tracklist:

1. “Drip”
2. “You Got Me”
3. “Far Apart”
4. “They”
5. “The One Thing”
6. “Sinking Ship”
7. “Taped Noise”
8. “Take Me There”
9. “Your Pain”
10. “Headphones”

2007 marked the first year dubstep producer Zomby began releasing music. The anonymous UK producer released his first LP in 2008, Where Were U in ’92? The album was heavily influenced by the early 1990s rave scene and gained positive reviews of Zomby’s genre-blurring beats. Despite the numerous tracks and a mini-album that Zomby has released since Where Were U in ’92?, his true identity has remained a closely kept secret. He was also invited to play at the All Tomorrow’s Parties Festival, curated by Animal Collective, but did not show up.

Self-concealed, Zomby has put together another full-length, Dedication. Boasting 16 songs, most tracks are short—some even under the one-minute mark. Dedication begins with “Witch Hunt,” a song with repetitive ticking and gunshot sounds over a pulsing bass line. First single, “Natalia’s Song,” was chosen as the first single and is the longest on the album. The song is layered with pieces of female vocals stirring about. Only two tracks into the album, it’s obvious Dedication is much darker than Zomby’s previous work. Yet, some of the dance-forcing beats still trail along the new hollow paths.

Zomby combines classic dance beats but layers them with dangerous chimes, haunting keys and a sense of the future. Where Were U In ’92? embraced the past, and Dedication is looking toward the future. Zomby has brushed the dust off his fingers and is finally ready to glisten.

Most of this album sounds as if it could be the soundtrack for an eerie thriller or video game. “Basquiat” has a somber piano taking the lead through the entire song. It’s an elegant twist that Zomby has thrown on to the album and stacks up against the rest of the tracks seamlessly. “Basquiat”’s abrupt ending almost seems like it represents a “goodbye” as it leads into the final track of the album, “Mozaik.” Zomby again falls back into his roots with a confident, fast beat that still has an eerie tone to fit the rest of the album. “Mozaik” feels clean, almost like a cleansing and beginning of a new era.

Dedication is an album most dubstep fans wouldn’t be expecting. It’s dark, haunted and sedated. Still, Zomby shows us his ability to play with sounds and beats as the album still finds itself to be moveable. In fact, it almost seems like the perfect getaway soundtrack.

Zomby – Dedication Tracklist:

1. “Witch Hunt”
2. “Natalia’s Song”
3. “Alothea”
4. “Black Orchid”
5. “Riding With Death”
6. “Vortex”
7. “Things Fall Apart”
8. “Salamander”
9. “Lucifer”
10. “Digital Rain”
11. “Vanquish”
12. “A Devil Lay Here”
13. “Florence”
14. “Haunted”
15. “Basquiat”
16. “Moziak”

Kendrick Lamar’s Compton, Cal. roots shine through on his most recent album, but not in the way one would expect. Eschewing the gangsta rap archetype, and having little in common with the G-funk stylings of Dr. Dre, Lamar has crafted an album that pulls from a myriad of influences. Section 80 sees the 24-year-old Lamar offer up his strongest album to date, and finally begin to deliver on the promise of his early work.

Opening with “Fuck Your Ethnicity,” Lamar shows he is willing to break down barriers. The track’s production is almost too clean in spots, taking away from his slightly acerbic flow and ravenous delivery. Despite this, Lamar’s ability to meld disparate styles is quite impressive. While a good chunk of Section 80 does reference commercially successful genre staples, when Lamar moves beyond that is when the album truly shines.

“Ronald Reagan Era” not only features a guest spot from the RZA, but it boasts a downtrodden feel that wouldn’t be out of place on an alt-country record. Pairing this with a baritone hook, the track builds to some of Lamar’s most impressive verses. Producer Tae Beast allows Lamar to explore with his phrasing, and it sees Lamar crafting lengthy verses that are consistent throughout.

Section 80 features one more production credit from Tae Beast, and it is equally as impressive. “Keisha’s Song (Her Pain)” brings back a slower tempo that brings Lamar’s lyrics to the forefront. An infectious hook courtesy of Ashtro Bot paints a picture of “Fancy girls on Long Beach Boulevard,” and brings in images of the early-‘90s Southern California hip-hop scene without merely aping its spirit.

The biggest problems with Section 80 are ones that are becoming incredibly commonplace in the hip-hop world. The album is overall a success, but at an hour long it begins to drag.

If Section 80 cut three or four songs from its tracklist – specifically form it’s weaker first hald – it could very easily prove to be one of the year’s best. Unfortunately, with a few misses included, it is bloated and spottier than it should be.

A secondary issue is that Lamar’s age is leading him down two different paths. “Hol’ Up” sees him discuss his ambition to join the mile-high club in a ineloquent manner, and then a few tracks later he’s projecting feminist ideology and championing inner beauty on “No Make-Up (Her Vice).” It’s not to say these two things can’t coexist, but placing juvenile desires next to adult understanding feels like Lamar is at a crossroads, either grow up or pander to Odd Future’s crowd – a group he mentions on closer “HiiiPoWer.”

Lamar has taken a step forward, but Section 80 is not without its faults. If Lamar finds some cohesion in his lyrical content, and cuts down the length of his albums, he will easily become one of the scene’s dominant forces. He’s got some growing to do, but for a 24-year-old, he’s already off to a great start.

Kendrick Lamar Section 80 Tracklist:

1. “Fuck Your Ethnicity”
2. “Hol’ Up”
3. “A.D.H.D.”
4. “No Make-Up (Her Vice)”
5. “Tammy’s Song (Her Evils)”
6. “Chapter Six”
7. “Ronald Reagan Era”
8. “Poe Mans Dreams (His Vice)”
9. “The Spiteful Chant”
10. “Chapter Ten”
11. “Keisha’s Song (Her Pain)”
12. “Rigamortus”
13. “Kush & Corinthians”
14. “Blow My High (Members Only)”
15. “Ab-Soul’s Outro”
16. “HiiiPoWer”

The Dragon of an Ordinary Family has been a highly anticipated release. Maybe because of the hype or maybe because it is just that great, this album will come to play a pivotal role in UK hip-hop; a scene that left off with Tinie Tempah somewhat making it in the United States. Now there’s a struggle to define itself, a domestic movement that, while hugely a derivative of their American forebearers, wants to stand on its own feet.

Jehst, alias of William G. Shields, was raised upper middle-class in the suburbs of Kent and attended the London School of Economics before dropping out to pursue a record deal. Rap may be a second language to him, and it’s a damn good one for someone with so many cutting critiques of society and blessed with the voice of the everyman. He helped found his label, Young N Restless Records and set about his course for dominating the airwaves.

Unlike other subsistent sub-genres which have emerged in Britain (grime, two-step, urban, garage, dub), Jehst carries a classic, classic hip-hop sound, which these days means throwback. Fittingly enough, Shields was previously a graffiti artist worth noting and legend has it his tags still adorn storefronts and alleyways in West End London. His sound smacks of turntables, boomboxes, graffiti and breakdancing—all hip-hop standbys for a reason. He resembled Devin the Dude over his contemporaries and like the Dude, TDOAOF is laced with a healthy dose of stoner chill. Only Jehst’s not content to sit around idly, there’s urgency in his voice that’s angry—sharply enunciated delivery with passion.

Though it is his first album on his own label, it sounds urgent enough to be his last testament.

Jehst is an outspoken rhymester, with wit and punch to boot; he only hopes not to be. The Dragon of An Ordinary Family is a full-blown attempt at legend. There is a fire and brimstone feel to his spitting—only it never reaches a pitch of preachiness that sounds patronizing. It is hard-hitting and a big part of his problem, besides himself, is the scene, “There’s no such thing as a rap artist,” he says on “True Intention,” stressing the word ‘artist’ “It’s all bullshit/White boys blacken up/Running out drugs and b-boys cracking up/This can’t be my beautiful culture.”

It’s material that comes from a desolate place, geographically and in the artist’s own heart. Jehst touts a smooth but mellow voice and when he lays down bars it can become almost ambient on the ears—part of the chill vibe. His lyricism goes from lovingly self-deprecatory to his own biggest fan. It’s a performance worth noting, even if it isn’t the last.

Jehst The Dragon of an Ordinary Family Tracklist:

1. “True Intention”
2. “Killer Instinct”
3. “Zombies”
4. “Thinking Crazy”
5. “England”
6. “Camberwell Carrots”
7. “Starting Over”
8. “Old No. 7”
9. “The Illest”
10. “Sounds Like Money”
11. “Back To The Drawing Board”
12. “Poison”
13. “Interlude”
14. “Tears In The Rain”
15. “Timeless”
16. “Two Point Four (The Dragon Of An Ordinary Family)”

Marissa Nadler has credited Ed Hardy from Eclipse Records as having brought her into the music world.  Hardy is acknowledged as discovering the artist and his record label released Nadler’s first two albums: Ballads of Living and Dying and The Saga of Mayflower May. By her third and fourth albums, Songs III: Bird on the Water and Little Hell, Nadler was gaining quite the reputation for herself, receiving vibrant praise for both.

After Nadler stepped out of her own “hell,” she started her own record label, Box of Cedar Records, wherein she would release her most recent, eponymous album. Marissa Nadler begins with “In Your Lair, Bear,” a gutsy move to begin an album—the track is six minutes long. The song starts with a single guitar winding through the same chords before Nadler’s voice swoops in. Nadler showcases her ability to make her lyrics sound slurred without being sloppy. The song deals with abandonment, which seems to be a common theme on this album: “Where did you go when the snow fell that year?” Marissa Nadler is a circular album, ending with “Daisy, Where Did You Go?” another track about being left behind. This time the lonesomeness feels more personal and is related to death, “So why did they take you first and leave me too soon?” Nadler sounds more breathless, as if the song almost hurts her to sing.

Nadler’s music is classically simple and the instruments are never crowded. A strumming guitar is always at the forefront accompanied by drums or additional strings.

Being forsaken isn’t the only recurring theme on Marissa Nadler, there’s also the repetition of her leaving. “I was always packing a suitcase in the dark/In my mind a highway to the western spark” is a line from “Little King” which falls toward the end of the album. The song is a sleepy telling of wanting to run away to fall in love. Nadler is an incredibly talented songwriter, and can add a stunning line to a predictable song. In “Little King” she pens, “We can drink whiskey or sit inside the car and listen to the silence of the stars.”

Nadler has other love-related themes and not all songs are subdued. “The Sun Always Reminds Me of You” brings a tinny folk sound to the album. Nadler sings about an ex-lover whom she can’t get out of her mind. “Why does the sun always remind me of you yes it does/I hope a new day will come and cover up what I done.” This track is a bit quicker and stands above some of the predictability of the album.

Nadler recently entered a new era in her life, her 30s. She has her own record label, four full-length albums, and an incredible reputation. While Marissa Nadler is heavy-eyed it should do nothing but add to her sparkling repertoire.

Marissa Nadler – s/t Tracklist:

1. “In Your Lair, Bear”
2. “Alabaster Queen”
3. “The Sun Always Reminds Me of You”
4. “Mr. John Lee Revisited”
5. “Baby I Will Leave You in the Morning”
6. “Puppet Master”
7. “Wind Up Doll”
8. “Wedding”
9. “Little King”
10. “In a Magazine”
11. “Daisy, Where Did You Go?”

The L.A. rock ‘n’ roll machine Bowery Beasts entered the record scene this month with a debut EP entitled Heavy You. The six tracks on the record are a pulse-pounding trip catering to a swath of kids clinging to the prom and glam lifestyle that the grunge era was working to take over circa 1990. There is a nostalgic appeal to this EP in a sense that the Bowery Beasts bring a sound back to the music world that hasn’t seen light in two decades.

These crazy stage slayers are getting tons of attention in L.A. KROQ radio personality and guitarist for the Sex Pistols Steve Jones is touting the Bowery Beasts as his new favorite band. And why not, considering their EP is a rolling extravaganza of dynamic guitar play complimented in force by a small army of talented musicians. With all the hype out there, the album isn’t an entire collection of rockable tunes and lacks in areas where the music is more like filler instead of a raunchy, L.A.-infused rock block.

There are a couple of slower, acoustic songs on the record. “Amulet” has an acoustic opening eerily reminiscent of “Nutshell” by Alice in Chains. The thing that sets this song apart is when singer Marion Belle throws some Axl Rose vocal appeal and cranks the notch way up. The guitar breakdown at the end is long and beautiful to the point where it should be the background music for a sword fight in a Highlander sequel.

“He Was Your First Tattoo” and “White Diamond Babe” are both excellently executed and really help tie the EP together. “Tattoo” has a shitload of gritty garage guitar tossed together with Belle’s falsetto voice and a deep, pounding tom. The lyrics are calculated and punctual with every beat, wherein they creep through with the same power that leads Rush’s Geddy Lee’s voice across their songs. “Babe” quickly builds and carefully bridges the gap between the grunge sound of the ‘90s and the early metal heard in Black Sabbath’s music. Guitarist Jordan Wiggins has a commanding presence on the song and rips a lead through it like Mike McCready does for Pearl Jam.

“White Diamond Babe” along with “Amulet” bring that throwback air into the mix. Belle takes the breakdown on “Babe” to a whole new level with his hair band vocals in that he directs the finale into a full-on rock ‘n’ roll explosion.

Not every track on the EP is a drag down brawl, and “Rock and Roll Queen” brings around something slower and a little easier to take in for those who can’t handle a hair god voice pounding in their ears. It has a folk appeal similar to ’70s singer/songwriter Carole King. The song has an “at the end of a drug addiction and there’s nowhere to go but up” feeling. It may not be the strongest song on the EP but has an authoritative message.

Less exciting songs on the album include “Young Rockers” and a dirty rock ‘n’ roll cover of “Summertime Bluez.” “Young Rockers” sounds canned and more like background noise. It doesn’t showcase any of the band’s real abilities and lacks compassion to create a memorable experience. The cover of “Summertime Bluez” does get the blood flowing but, in the same respect of having canned music on an album, the song has the air of being played out. The summer is here, but why take time to cover a song when the talent is there is plenty of talent in the band?

Steve Jones is smart for putting his mark on this EP, though. As a package deal, it rocks hard and gives listeners a break from the humdrum of everyday garage music. The indie scene is flooded with cookie cutter crap and the Bowery Beasts turn their heads away from that to mold together something just as hot as the California sun. Heavy You is a great start for a West Coast band and it’s only a matter of time before they’re taking their talents throughout the rest of the US.

Bowery Beasts – Heavy You Tracklist:

1. “He Was Your First Tattoo”
2. “White Diamond Babe”
3. “Young Rockers”
4. “Amulet”
5. “Rock and Roll Queen”
6. “Summertime Bluez”

Search terms can be problematic when Googling a band. Artists such as Battles and Games have struggled with the search engine cluster-fuck—but it might pale in comparison to the trouble Sleepy Kitty will have in the coming months, which is unfortunate because their album Infinity City is worth far more than furry felines reposing. Well, probably.

The sound of the Chicago/St. Louisian couple is a throwback to ’90s fuzz pop and eclectic instrumentation, which might be the influence of guitarist and Harvey Danger alumni, Evan Sult. But no matter how many detuned pianos thump along, or trombones glissando—the circus never seems to get out of control, never coming off as accidental. Infinity City is a sing-songy work, bright and triumphant but also whimsical and sharp-witted, thanks to the vocal stylings of frontwoman Paige Brubeck. She can be alternately playful, sneering and airy, and she’s always too charming to forget.

These guys know their stuff—check the humming of “Rhapsody in Blue” on “Speaking Politely,” or their rather loose take on The Beatles’ “I Saw Her Standing There” titled “Seventeen.” Their biography lists influences as diverse as The Velvet Underground, The Crystals and even Judy Garland. None are unfair comparisons.

There’s a healthy mix of image inducing sounds and pop sensible familiarity on the album. Brubeck met Sult while she was in film school, with the band initially wanting to get “as far from their own pop roots as possible.”

Infinity City is as much a mastery of instrumentation as it is of production—songs vary in style from reverb-drenched “Way Out” to the focused edges of single, “Gimme a Chantz!” It’s a debut work that continually defies expectations—strange for something so poppy—just when you think you have the next change or have tucked them under a genre, Sleepy Kitty pleasantly surprises you.

While Infinity City is more ’90s than anything else—there are also motifs of doo-wop in the vocal harmonies, the noise exploration of contemporary artists like Neko Case and even a dramatic arch to the album. Sleepy Kitty is never short on variety; the duo also boast an impressive repertoire of graphic design—utilizing mixed media in screen printing to create everything from album art to show posters, showcasing the same kind of colorful dynamism that fills Infinity City’s sounds.

Remember that delightfully angry, not-sick-but-not-well spirit of late-’90s rock? Just imagine if it hadn’t died and at the behest of two innovators continued—with eyes for the past and the future, pop and experimentation—that’s how adorable Sleepy Kitty’s debut is.

Sleepy Kitty Infinity City Tracklist:

1. “Gimme a Chantz!”
2. “Speaking Politely”
3. “Seventeen”
4. “Way Out”
5. “NYC Really Has It All”
6. “Ridin’ with St. Louis”
7. “Heavy Mother”
8. “School’s Out”
9. “Dykula”

Lifes Rich Pageant is not the quintessential R.E.M. album. It’s an uneven welterweight, and a more transitional album than anything the group has made since (even after being devastated by drummer Bill Berry’s departure). However, perhaps more than any other work, their fourth album exemplifies why history sees R.E.M. as one of the most important bands to come in the wake of punk.

In short, the word compromise was never part of R.E.M.’s lucid vocabulary. John Mellencamp producer Don Gehman helmed Lifes Rich Pageant (no apostrophe—Michael Stipe didn’t believe in punctuation) to give the band a clearer, brighter sound. But while Pageant isn’t heartland rock nor as glossy as Mellencamp’s then-current hits, Gehman’s influence didn’t come without creative tension. “What does this mean?” he challenged Stipe’s obtuse lyrics. Coming between the bizarre dark period surrounding the darker Fables of the Reconstruction and a fertile creative one, this affront to his songwriting was met with crossed arms.

It’s unclear who won that stand-off. “Fall On Me” cracked the Hot 100, but Stipe seemed to be just mumbling louder now—his voice more naked than ever, he enunciated and stretched vowels above all other sounds. Doozies like “perfection is a fault and fault lines change” (“I Believe”) weren’t any easier to comprehend, but with the band’s growing political bent came audibly sign-ready slogans like “we are hope despite the times.”

Their previous night gardening resulted in some very bright flora when the sun came out again. With as solid an opening run as any record since, Lifes Rich Pageant sounds like a band reborn. When Stipe described the recording of a later album as “primitive and howling,” this is what fans imagined. Backing Stipe’s deranged yelps, Peter Buck realized you can use bar chords without turning into a champagne-pouring rawk sellout. Pageant sputters later on, making it seem like two EPs—one of strong-willed anthems against Reagan’s cartoon America, one of jagged, twisty detours. This isn’t coincidence: In addition to the genuinely new songs, the album cobbled together outtakes spanning five years (“What If We Give It Away,” “Hyena”), an obscure cover (“Superman”) and the type of drunken fuckery seen at their club gigs (“Underneath The Bunker” was supposedly written after a well-oiled trip to a Greek restaurant). Gehman’s production was clear, but so was the difference between “new” and “dusted-off” in the tracklist.

As a reissue, Lifes Rich Pageant is decidedly louder, but for a purpose. Like so many indie rock albums from its decade, the original release suffered from tinny drum sounds and hidden bass.

The remaster rectifies this, making Berry and Mike Mills equals in the mix. Berry in particular was meant to shine here, as any discussion of commercial sensibilities in the ’80s included a big drum sound. His kit in “Hyena” now crashes through the opening moments of animal cackling, but unlike the Murmur remaster, there are no previously unheard instruments or atmospherics—just Mills’ insurgent choir vocals and Buck’s reinforced Rickenbacker with some newfound sting in its jangle. Still, the remaster highlights how Gehman’s cavernous reverb actually made R.E.M. sound weirder than it did when Stipe was mumbling about moral kiosks.

Should lifers with the original CD shell out again? The reissue is beautifully packaged in a sturdy box as appropriate for display as for storage, and as with the Fables reissue, it comes with a poster and four postcards (a snapshot of each band member) which should make for convenient autograph material at any R.E.M. side project show (The Baseball Project and The Minus 5, among others). Parke Puterbaugh’s fluffy liner notes are nothing revelatory, but for once, the real treasure is the bonus disc.

Unlike Fables‘ dull demos, the sketches here are different enough from the final versions to merit multiple spins: “These Days” is flighty rhetoric instead of brute force, “Begin The Begin” lurches along stilted, and “Fall On Me” falls halfway between its early incarnation as murk-folk and the eventual hook-heavy pop it would become, with something like “fall on dawn” a placeholder for the title phrase. Appearing in demo form for the third time in five years, “Hyena” is a bruiser, Buck’s nasty guitar swarm cutting through the haze.

Non-album cuts fare better for enjoyment than study: punkabilly bashers like “Mystery to Me” and the requisite new song “Wait” are pure fun. Another pre-Murmur composition in the running, “All the Right Friends” surprisingly resembles its strident 2001 recording as a soundtrack cut. And while it appeared as a bonus on an I.R.S.-era best-of compilation, the more chances people have to hear the superb “Two Steps Onward” the better, its creepy bass-line-as-melody trick surprising for not being repeated more often.

Lifes Rich Pageant offers the last glimpse of a band hurling toward fame before the hit singles, packed arenas and extraneous touring musicians came along. “Broadcast me a joyful noise,” Stipe beckons on “Bad Day.” Twenty-five years on, this noise sounds young despite the years.

R.E.M. – Lifes Rich Pageant (25th Anniversary Edition) Tracklist:

1. “Begin The Begin”
2. “These Days”
3. “Fall On Me”
4. “Cuyahoga”
5. “Hyena”
6. “Underneath The Bunker”
7. “The Flowers of Guatemala”
8. “I Believe”
9. “What If We Give It Away?”
10. “Just A Touch”
11. “Swan Swan H”
12. “Superman”

Bonus Disc

1. “Fall On Me (Athens Demo)”
2. “Hyena (Athens Demo)”
3. “March Song (King of Birds) (Athens Demo)”
4. “These Days (Athens Demo)”
5. “Bad Day (Athens Demo)”
6. “Salsa (Underneath The Bunker) (Athens Demo)”
7. “Swan Swan H (Athens Demo)”
8. “The Flowers of Guatemala (Athens Demo)”
9. “Begin The Begin (Athens Demo)”
10. “Cuyahoga (Athens Demo)”
11. “I Believe (Athens Demo)”
12. “Out Of Tune (Athens Demo)”
13. “Jazz (Rotary Ten) (Athens Demo)”
14. “Two Steps Onward (Athens Demo)”
15. “Just A Touch (Athens Demo)”
16. “Mystery To Me (Athens Demo)”
17. “Wait (Athens Demo)”
18. “All The Right Friends (Athens Demo)”
19. “Get On Their Way (What If We Give It Away?) (Athens Demo)”

“The horror, the horror!” Colonel Kurtz utters as his last words in the 1979 movie classic, Apocalypse Now (and in Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, the novel that inspired it).  Little did director Francis Ford Coppola or actor Marlon Brando anticipate what would follow, in the form of The Horrors.

Like Kurtz, The Horrors seem to be stuck in a moment they can’t get out of, but their moment is somewhere in the late ’80s as opposed to the ’60s or ’70s. They’ve been stuck in their basements, listening to the music of the Mighty Lemon Drops, James and Kitchens of Distinction spin on their record player, and they’ve come up with something rooted in the house they used to live in (whether it’s a Chapterhouse or a Springhouse, it’s a tad unclear) on this, their third release.

With a name like The Horrors, listeners could be forgiven for pigeonholing (bat-holing?) this London quintet a goth/psychobilly combo a la HorrorPops, The Cramps or My Jeans Love Jismball. Notwithstanding the fact that one of their members is named Coffin Joe, this band is nothing like that—perhaps the only way in which they truly fit their moniker is the sprawling, dizzying miasma of sound they craft on these ten lengthy pop confections.

True, there are sharp squalls of feedback and tremulous tenor vocals that seem to spiral downwards, like love, into the bottomless pits of hellacious ecstasy. But the overall effect of the sound is far sweeter than one might anticipate from an ensemble calling themselves The Horrors.

The opening cut, “Changing the Rain,”  starts with the submarine tubular bell-like guitars that have more recently been sonically aped by Chicago’s own Smith Westerns. There’s no doubt that throughout, there is a bit of retrolicious glam-rock going on, in addition to the echoes of Ian McCulloch and his Bunnymen, the Candyskins and about any other late ’80s/early ’90s UK obscurity and/or exercise in shoegazery one could name.

“You Said” has a start-stop guitar fuzz lurching reminiscent of My Bloody Valentine’s second record, Isn’t Anything, while “Moving Further Away” starts out like Ride and ends up like The Flaming Lips. If analyzing from the perspective of titular criticism, the song titles alone are a dead giveaway: Given titles like “Dive In,” “Endless Blue” and “Oceans Burning,” it’s not a big stretch of the imagination to hear echoes of Slowdive, The Ocean Blue and Ride (who had songs called “Dreams Burn Down,” “Seagull” and “Vapour Trail” on their Nowhere release). Surely it can’t just be a British thing—after all, The Ocean Blue were from Pennsylvania.

Given that it’s impossible to hear this record without thinking of acts that have apparently influenced them, the big question is: Do The Horrors have anything original to say? All we know so far is they sound like a litany of other bands. Do they bring anything new to the table?

The short answer is no. There is no point in Skying where one hears something entirely new, or anything that is sock-knocking-off-worthy. Although the songs do trigger the occasional head-bob or half-smile, those are usually triggered by recognizing the source material. True, The Horrors, who aside from the aforementioned Mr. Joe, include Faris Badwan, Tom Furse, Rhys Webb and (the also improbably named) Joshua Third, do mix their favorite bits of post-punk/postmodern rock into an entertaining broth. However, there’s nothing here that hasn’t been done before. Is it an enjoyable listen on the first few spins? Sure.  Is this record, in the end, just a quest for something new and different, that ends up as a long journey down the Nung River in a slow Cambodian boat to nowhere?  Is there enough joyous melody to overcome the cacophony of this Britpop alchemy as it starts to come unhinged when the listener finally makes it, at long last, to the heart of darkness?  Is it worth the trip?

At the end of this 10-song journey, it turns out that the musical ideas here are “hollow to the core” and The Horrors are nothing but Hollow Men.

Perhaps The Horrors is just another stupid band name. There have been far worse band names, and few with such an irrelevant moniker can boast such lovely, atmospheric, chiming pop tunes as those found on Skying. Even “Apocalypse Now” had been done before, and many would argue that the world is again stuck in that motion picture moment as well. Good movies are worth a review, good books are worth a reread, and good guitar-driven rock is worth a retread now and then.

The Horrors – Skying Tracklist:

1. “Changing the Rain”
2. “You Said”
3. “I Can See Through You”
4. “Endless Blue”
5. “Dive In”
6. “Still Life”
7. “Wild Eyed”
8. “Moving Further Away”
9. “Monica Gems”
10. “Oceans Burning”

There’s an interesting distinction in the perception of “couple” bands. While The White Stripes are certainly the outlier here—because for a great while many people believed they were siblings rather than a divorced couple, bands that contain happy marriages are always a bit weird to view lyrically. The Weepies, Mates of State, even Régine Chassagne and Win Butler of Arcade Fire all possess this dynamic—a slight bit of context to inform the band’s worldview. Bodies of Water and their core members David and Meredith Metcalf have this same context, filtered through a heavy bit of dark ’70s Laurel Canyon folk-pop. Their third LP, Twist Again, is a slight trinket of propulsive Sunshine State AM pop, building upon the Metcalfs’ strange connectivity in aurally pleasing ways.

Which is not to say that Bodies of Water don’t get sufficiently weird along the way, lyrically. Both Metcalfs turn phrases that seem a bit antiquated, even for their mildly retro musical sensibility, trending almost toward New Testament verbosity and worrying about the oncoming apocalypse, even if that distress is flung off in favor of energetic Scooby-Doo keyboard pop (the transition from “New Age Nightmares” to “In Your Thrall Again”). Bodies of Water are best when they’re revving their engines, as opposed to the alternative of slowing down and turning into Cass McCombs-lite. David Metcalf seems most often to blame for Twist Again’s lackadaisical moments, contributing both “Nightmares” and “My Hips Won’t Let Me,” which both bring in a bit too much of the minstrelsy that ’70s folk-poppers thought was so interesting at the time.

But when the Metcalfs rev up, they can really get their motors running. An inventive and intelligent knowledge of percussion and the things that work best as backbeat make songs like “Like A Stranger” and “Mary, Don’t You Weep” more than blandly innocuous folk-pop songs.

“Mary, Don’t You Weep” sounds remarkably close to ABBA, were ABBA less focused on disco and more on gold-coast ennui. “Stranger” is a better example using bass clef piano as the primary percussion, letting syncopated drums and Zombies-esque guitar work play lead along with the Metcalfs’ stony romanticism.

These romps also help  mask the ambiguity and slack meaninglessness of Bodies of Water’s verse. “Triplets” and “In Your Thrall Again” are so sneakily well-arranged that you have the ability to forget that, like The Weepies and Mates of State, this couple doesn’t have much to say. Their better tracks are about the power of music to enrapture an audience and capture hearts and minds, while the slower tracks meander around notions of unrequited love and misty metaphor. In the end, Bodies of Water are most easily judged by their opening track, “One Hand Loves the Other,” which deftly combines both intricate arrangements and an evocative story. Whichever element you take most strongly from “One Hand” will be the element that guides you through a fairly satisfying, if sometimes scattershot and lazy, third effort from this clever and intelligent couple.

Bodies Of Water – Twist Again

1. “One Hand Loves the Other”
2. “Triplets”
3. “Mary, Don’t You Weep”
4. “Open Rhythms”
5. “Rise Up, Careful”
6. “Ever With Us”
7. “Like A Stranger”
8. “Lights Out Forever”
9. “New Age Nightmare”
10. “In Your Thrall Again”
11. “My Hip Won’t Let Me”
12. “You Knew Me So Well”

There are a multitude of inspirational musicians in each generation, but only a few hold a candle to this millennium’s leader, Patrick Wolf. His voice, presence and message speak to many and meld the feeling of hope and forward momentum in droves. With such a cavalcade of awe-inspiring work out there, it’s hard to believe that Lupercalia is a less than impressionistic album compared to his earlier works.

Wolf has immense talent swinging from his belt, there is no doubt about that. He is this era’s Elton John. He speaks truth through his music and his message is inspiring. But following one of his finer albums, The Bachelor, his latest installment falls short of its mark. As the album fleshes out, it is beautiful in many respects but lacks a certain “punch in the face” excitement that his early accomplishments hold. But before Wolf is broken down, some facts need to be taken into consideration that reveal and help make Lupercalia a great album, even though it may not stack up.

Originally, Wolf wanted to release The Bachelor and Lupercalia as a double album. He opted out of that idea and released them separately, stating that it would be better for his fans to take them in one at a time. And for the most part, he’s right: it is better that way. Both albums comprise a night and day scenario when it comes to the style of music. The Bachelor is powerful and loud and just outright kicks ass. If it needed a ‘stache rating right now, it would easily get a four. But this isn’t about what should’ve been or what could be, this is about Lupercalia.

It is a melodic album. It showcases Wolf’s near perfect voice and has a caliber of institution that is second to none. The album title refers to the Lupercalia festival, known historically as an ancient fertility and love festival that the Romans celebrated in ancient times and was a precursor to Valentine’s Day.

More or less, this album is Wolf’s take on love—and an interesting one at that.

One single from the album is “House.” It is upbeat and draws some energy from its almost companion album, The Bachelor. Wolf sings of contentment at home with a lover where he refers to Thomas Hardy’s novel Return of the Native in the chorus. He also mentions poets William Butler Yeats and Dylan Thomas in the second verse, taking from native tongues to outlet his feelings. Wolf repeats, “It’s the greatest peace I’ve ever known” and it shows in his delivery, coupled with a dynamic drumbeat.

There are a handful of “soaring” ballads on Lupercalia, to wit “Slow Motion” being an excellent example. Though Wolf has no issues wearing his heart on his sleeve on this album. The song is entirely too epic, for lack of better words. It comes off overly dramatic, and, coupled with a Native American backing and some synthetic beats, lacks any true depth. It’s almost too much to take in at one time.

The album goes back and forth. Though there is top-notch music coming from Lupercalia, like “Time of My Life,” which is graciously upbeat, it doesn’t stack up to its fraternal twin, The Bachelor. It’s impossible not to keep touching back to his fourth album. He would have been better off trusting his fans’ ability to take in something so grand and released them together. Patrick Wolf has the makings of a timeless headpiece for his fans and just needs to let loose the floodgates and let it all out.

Patrick Wolf – Lupercalia Tracklist:

1. “The City”
2. “House”
3. “Bermondsey Street”
4. “The Future”
5. “Armistice”
6. “William”
7. “Time of My Life”
8. “The Days”
9. “Slow Motion”
10. “Together”
11. “The Falcons”