Pop 'stache

Few could condemn the members of hardcore punk outfit Fucked Up as slouches. Since forming about a decade ago, the band has endeared itself to new fans with bold, ear-yanking recordings (their choice of format not at all limited to conventional LP releases) and equally astounding live performances that meld its members’ aggressive playing with frontman Pink Eyes’ audience-inclusive antics. On the new full-length, David Comes to Life, Fucked Up continues to extend itself, this time through rock music’s embodiment of ambition in overdrive: the concept album.

Few punk bands have tackled the formidable concept album in the past, but then Fucked Up have never been just a punk band. For a group that frequently indulges in out-sized gestures, an 18-track epic involving murder and doomed romance is a fitting next move. Pink Eyes’ bellowing vocals, which are in reliably muscular form here, may not seem suitable for imparting a well-drawn narrative with dense lyricism. His snarling delivery often muddles the nuanced wordplay, but this is hardly a detractor. Listeners who care to explore the album’s storyline beyond what they think they’re hearing can easily access the lyrics on the band’s website.

Impressively, the band has bulked up its propulsive sound, effortlessly mixing stadium-shuddering riffs with streamlined punk ferocity. Extended guitar workouts on tracks like “Ship of Fools” and “A Little Death” hoist the album to transcendent heights. Fucked Up has always aimed high, but rarely have they sounded this far removed from a conventional punk sound while maintaining such breathtaking rawness.

The tracks on David Comes to Life are meticulously sequenced and grouped into four separate “acts.” Befitting a concept album, the songs often bleed into one another.

At some points, a gently strummed acoustic passage precedes the band’s typically abrasive sound. Moments like these are unexpected but no less enthralling. Not only do they smartly harken interludes from albums like Pink Floyd’s The Wall (think the hushed atmospherics in a song like “Goodbye Cruel World,” minus Roger Waters’ tortured singing). For a high-intensity sonic double feature, consider pairing David Comes to Life with The Who’s Quadrophenia.

As mentioned, David Comes to Life contains a variety of classic concept album signatures, including repeated motifs and intricate mythologizing. Regarding the latter, the album’s title alone conjures visions of the titular deaf, dumb and blind kid from The Who’s Tommy. It’s this self-awareness, combined with a genuine and palpable fondness for the inspired material, that have allowed Fucked Up to create one of the biggest rock albums of the year.

Fucked Up – David Comes to Life Tracklist:

1. “Let Her Rest”
2. “Queen of Hearts”
3. “Under My Nose”
4. “The Other Shoe”
5. “Turn The Season”
6. “Running On Nothing”
7. “Remember My Name”
8. “A Slanted Tone”
9. “Serve Me  Right”
10. “Truth I Know”
11. “Life In Paper”
12. “Ship Of Fools”
13. “A Little Death”
14. “I Was There”
15. “Inside A Frame”
16. “The Recursive Girl”
17. “One More Night”
18. “Lights Go Up”

What hasn’t Danger Mouse done? He mashed up The Black Album with The White Album. He is one half of Gnarls Barkley. He’s produced albums of such magnitude as Modern Guilt, Demon Days and Brothers. Now he and composer Daniele Luppi have recorded an original work styled like a movie score, featuring Jack White and Norah Jones, called Rome. If anything, its eccentric creators unveil this is an awesome set of ‘staches, and a taste for vintage Italian soundtracks.

Danger Mouse (alias of Brian Jones Burton) and Luppi spent five years recording Rome in its namesake, trying to emulate sounds of the American Western. Halfway through the process, they enlisted Jack and Norah as leads; White playing the damaged, self-destructive type to Norah’s everygirl and savior. “I’m already fighting me, so what’s another one?” White bleats on, “Two Against One.” The love story between the singers is at best loose, better told through music than words. The soundtrack to a nonexistent film is nothing new, where Rome succeeds is as a thing of its own, begging the imagination to fill in the details.

It’s hard to say what makes a song sound like it’s “made for the screen,” but in the case of the album it’s mostly that the lyric-less songs incant film scenes. Whether you agree to take each for its title is one thing, but almost none of the tracks go beyond their immediate association. That’s ok though—it doesn’t have to be taken as a film soundtrack to be appreciated. The Mouse is a self-proclaimed auteur; building a distinctive, unified sound with the dramatic arch of a film has informed much of his canon—an artist that convinces you he should’ve been born in the ’60s. Luppi himself is no stranger to scoring; his work has appeared in Hell Ride, Under the Tuscan Sun and 2009’s Nine.

One of Jones’ contributions, “Black,” a gorgeous, swelling organ ballad has been given the star treatment. The music video, “3 Dreams of Black,” was created using WebGL, through movements of their mouse users can actually control what happens in the dreamscape. Jones’ misty vocals have that place-you-can’t-go-back, sunset melancholy, gilding the song in dramatic weight. There are a lot of recurring motifs in the album; the chorus of “Rome” is preeminent.

Sweeping strings and pentatonic “Ahs” and “Ohs” give Rome its epic, gloomy Western feel. Guitars and vibraphones accent and highlight its rough-ridden edges.

Sometimes brusque, it can also be pretty. A song as ambitiously titled as “The World,” manages to evoke a dream of the blue planet. Peruse the track list—many of the songs are less than a minute long and almost all of them contain a strong implication of scene; any album—not just a soundtrack—will stir images in the mind’s eye.

It sounds dated. If any of these were soundtracks to movie it would be a melodrama or something out of the 1960s. In the case of this album, it’s both. Rome is at times loungy and yet inextricably Spaghetti—a hallmark of the era. It’s romantic but genuine, sweet but transient. Thank Luppi for proffering authenticity; many of the studio musicians who played on the tracks are 70/80 year olds who recorded with Mancini and the greats.

Danger Mouse & Daniele Luppi – Rome Tracklist:

1. “Theme of ‘Rome'”
2. “The Rose With The Broken Neck (feat. Jack White)”
3. “Morning Fog (Interlude)”
4. “Season’s Trees (feat. Norah Jones)”
5. “Her Hollow Ways (Interlude)”
6. “Roman Blue”
7. “Two Against One (feat. Jack White)”
8. “The Gambling Priest”
9. “The World (Interlude)”
10. “Black (feat. Norah Jones)”
11. “The Matador Has Fallen”
12. “Morning Fog”
13. “Problem Queen (feat. Norah Jones)”
14. “Her Hollow Ways”
15. “The World (feat. Jack White)”

The strength of Art Brut does not lie in lead singer Eddie Argos’ voice but in his jokey fuck-all attitude and lyrics. The music behind him isn’t a bastion of musical complexity either but moves pleasingly along with its uncluttered punk sound powered by solid guitar and bass riffs. Their fourth release, Brilliant! Tragic!, maintains the status quo by sticking to what the band does best, punk rock that doesn’t take itself seriously.

Pixies frontman Black Francis produced both Brilliant! Tragic! and their previous album, Art Brut Vs Satan. Both albums sound like they could have been recorded in the same studio session, so most fans of Satan will most likely enjoy Tragic! Argos maintains his signature conversational vocals, which put a clear focus on his lyrics. Fortunately those lyrics don’t suck but entertain with just the right amount of pathos and humor.

The album opens appropriately with “Clever Clever Jazz,” a statement of purpose and preemptive strike against critics. Argos delivers lyrics like, “Stop shouting, play what you know/Let us get on with the show/Clever, clever jazz man/We’re working in a genre you don’t understand,”  with aggressive sincerity. A snare accompanied by a simple bass line moves through the verse with the guitar kicking in for the chorus. It’s simple, melodic and catchy. It fits the idea of the song and succeeds by sticking to the bands style.

Song topics include matters of the heart, Axl Rose, ESP and the joys of being a sexy rock star. The guitar, bass and drums mix it up well between songs with different effects, but rarely cover Argos.

One of the high marks is “Sexy Sometimes,” with its reverbed and slightly distorted guitar. In it Argos acknowledges his tuneless voice but defends it at the same time. When he says “Everybody wants to feel sexy sometimes/I can make it happen with a voice like mine,” one can’t help but forgive his shortfall.

Unfortunately the same attitude can feel forced. “Axl Rose” rides along on a turned up bass, snares, and ragged guitar. In it Argos doesn’t bother to try to hit the right note and stays in talking mode for the most part. Unfortunately the lyrics fail to say anything clever and the song drowns in its own style. When it finally reaches its end and Argos shouts out, “Fuck you,” to the crowd you’ll want to say it back.

Brilliant! Tragic! is neither brilliant nor tragic, but that’s not the point. Argos has a deft talent for constructing songs and lyrics and succeeds despite his natural limitations. The band matches his style well with simple but catchy punk riffs. To them it probably is brilliant, which is why they’re good. If they didn’t forge their own path then they’d be just another bunch of punks.

Art Brut – Brilliant! Tragic! Tracklist:

1. “Clever Clever Jazz”
2. “Lost Weekend”
3. “Bad Comedian”
4. “Sexy Sometimes”
5. “Is Dog Eared”
6. “Martin Kemp Welch Five-a-Side Football Rules!”
7. “Axl Rose”
8. “I Am the Psychic”
9. “Ice Hockey”
10. “Sealand”

If it were 1960 The High Llamas might feet seamlessly into the music industry. Much of their music has been influenced by 1960s film composers giving The High Llamas a distinct retro sound. Think Burt Bacharach’s “The Look of Love” meets Bibio’s “All the Flowers.”

The High Llamas are notorious for going on long breaks between releasing albums. Irish frontman Sean O’Hagan claims he has too many external pressures, which lead to the musical gaps. The Llamas have also been musically compared to the Beach Boys during Brian Wilson’s more experimental days. Talahomi Way will probably be no different with its syrupy melodies and feathery vocals.

What makes Talahomi Way interesting is how palpable the music is. Opener “Barry Adams” feels heavy and humid but the synth adds some radiance. The song makes one visualize floating down a lagoon deep in Costa Rica. The harmony heavy vocals of the song leave the group feeling like a 1960’s pop group.

Musically, Talahomi Way is weightless and gorgeous. The album takes turns through delicate strings and robust horns leaving listeners breathless. The first 25 seconds of “Wander, Jack Wander” sounds like one of those classic Bacharach compositions until fluttering strings enter. The song is one of the few completely instrumental on the album.

Therein lies the downfall.

The music is so well done that the lyrics weigh it down. In the title track, the music is a little more folk-influenced with harmonicas soothing the melody. Fortunately, the song is only lyric-heavy in the first minute of the song. The lyrics are about traveling and arriving at a hotel. Seriously, that’s it. “Take My Hand” is predictable: “Take my hand and run it through the sand.”

Talahomi Way also hits some musical speed bumps. “A Rock in May” drips with blurred synth and sounds as if it could be used for some dusty sitcom. It discusses a Southern garden that “sparkles a surprise”. There’s really nothing too special about the track.

It’s too bad The High Llamas didn’t release a strictly instrumental album. While not all the lyrics are terrible, they just don’t seem to fit atop the music paired with them.

The High Llamas – Talahomi Way Tracklist:

1. “Berry Adams”
2. “Wander, Jack Wander”
3. “Take My Hand”
4. “Woven and Rolled”
5. “The Ring of Gold”
6. “Talahomi Way”
7. “Fly Baby, Fly”
8. “Angel Connector”
9. “To The Abbey”
10. “A Rock in May”
11. “Crazy Connector”
12. “Calling Up, Ringing Down”

The artwork may look like the Technicolor version of U2’s No Line on the Horizon, but a better comparison is Best Coast. The lush sound is a nonchalant counterpoint to that group’s bubbly boy-craziness; Roar is still shore-ready, but it’s relaxing by the ocean instead of waiting by the phone.

The first sounds of Roar are the whimsical bink-bink of Nassif’s tropical drums in “North.” You’d think a release called Roar with a black man staring stoically off into the distance would set itself up as some militant snapshot of war-torn Africa. An Afro-pop influence lingers, but Roar is far from a U.N. filibuster.

“California Sunrise,” with its fluttering keyboards and scratchy, reverbed vocals, could almost pass for Vampire Weekend, but those peppy shirt-tuckers are never this languid (although that collective “hey!” midway through sounds like a royalty check waiting to happen). “Trying to decide are you really worth my time/I’ve been playing this game so long,” he mews, only to backpedal, asking “how am I gonna prove myself to you?” It’s these warring instincts that suggest there’s more to Dirty Gold than Coronas and Crocs.

There’s a good bit of woozy hallucinogenic babble fleshing out the lyrics (“The chorus gathers ‘round before us/And starts to sing a hymn of silence”), and the sun-kissed blur is almost too much to take—a whole album of this wouldn’t be practical (ever spend eight hours at the beach?). When Ballif sings, “California sunrise, come and wake me up,” he sounds like he’s in need of a booster.

Balliff does sneak nuggets of neurosis into the songs: “Change your ways before the tide takes you away/Change your ways before you die.” It’s a temporary darkness, like a fast moving cloud, washed away by either sunnier lyrics or the endless vacation the music conjures. The next line, “Change your ways before my love fades away,” sounds like an empty threat next to the carefree vibes the instrumentalists put forth.

Roar‘s brief format is a smart idea in 2011. Heavyweights like Radiohead and The Flaming Lips have recently talked up the idea of releasing music outside the traditional album format, whether as an EP, single, or a flippin’ gummy skull. For the fragmented way we now receive our music, the idea of an album seems quaint.

But if a Dirty Gold EP isn’t a savvy move per se, it’s at least a practical one at this point: Ballif seems like he doesn’t have enough to say to fill these five songs, let alone a whole album (or he just doesn’t want to share).

The druggy sparkle and dreamy organ of “Overboard” hint at a more dynamic sound. “Don’t you think it’s about time,” he starts, and before he can finish, you want to nod in agreement (or nod off). “I’m coming home,” he sings, stretching out the last word Spicoli-style like it can prolong the magic of a day off before the EP ends with a solemn pitter-patter drum march back to work week reality.

Roar sounds like the calm before another April storm, and the anxiety buried in the sand could be an indication of Dirty Gold’s next trip after some home time between tours. The guys sound ready for a change of scenery. Will a cool buzz come back, or will it be a more sobering sojourn? Stick around—it’ll be worth it.

Dirty Gold – Roar

1. “North”
2. “California Sunrise”
3. “Sea Hare”
4. “The Quiet Life”
5. “Overboard”

In the post-Bon Iver world, everyone must adapt to be a multifaceted folk artist. As much sonic good as Justin Vernon did for the folkie world, attaining a level of ubiquitousness not seen since Simon & Garkfunkel, he also did irreparable harm to the chances of any folk artist desiring to be, well, just a folk artist. Kurt Vile branched from his Springsteen Nebraska-era references to create blissful folk-pop, Fleet Foxes made the word pastoral cool and Joanna Newsom reminds all that pop is a malleable word. But for those non-innovators, the landscape has become increasingly craggy, fraught with steep climbs to credibility. It’s a dangerous world, folkies, better wear extra flannel.

In a way, Thurston Moore should be exempt from this. Not only has the 54-year-old (FIFTY FOUR!) been the frontman for one of the most influential guitar bands of the past 20 years (Sonic Youth), his solo folk discography goes back to 1995. He is already 20 times more accomplished as the pioneers stated before. His most recent record, Demolished Thoughts, is evidence of this: breathy vocals, ribald guitar work that skews awfully close to Sonic Youth Unplugged, and dark, vaguely sexualized lyrics that have become a selling point for true fans of the man’s work. Demolished Thoughts is, more than likely, exactly what it should be. But in a world where the standard has been raised for great folk-pop, exactly what it should be frequently doesn’t seem like enough.

Which is not to say Demolished Thoughts is bad. Quite the opposite, actually. Moore frequently uses his gift for arranging caterwauling guitar lines on Sonic Youth songs in a moderately unique way here, employing different strings as substitutes for overhung acoustic guitars, which could muddle the mix. Fiddle, violin, harp and cello all play key roles here, with the acoustic guitar frequently serving only to ground everything in a sense of folk purpose. Mystical teeth-bearer “Circulation” gets away from just being an Eddie Vedder-style pounder through the dark inclusion of minor-key violin and mandolin, adding an air of depth to a record that, in another’s hands, might have seemed slight, frail.

Moore’s breathy vocals are a sticking point for any folk explorer; while his characteristically slacker intonation gives Sonic Youth a measure of tongue-in-cheek confidence, here they contribute the same slacker feeling to different effect. Instead of seeming cocksure, Moore seems spindly, hard to grasp, especially given his frequently sexualized-for-barely-any-reason verse.

“Orchard Street,” for instance, starts out with talk of semen and demons, the former informing the latter. He doesn’t do a lot of singing on many of the songs here, however, letting the songs build their instruments and their tone before entering with his morbid poetry. “Blood Never Lies,” in its first two wordless minutes, has all the markings of slow-tongued balladry; Moore throws his verse at the song with casual ease, not letting his turns of phrase get in the way of a beautifully set of chords.

Which raises the biggest problem with Demolished Thoughts, the issue that keeps it from achieving the kind of transcendence young musicians like Vernon and Robin Peckinold are achieving currently. At nine tracks, the album can seem appropriately short. But because the instruments used are largely the same (a smattering of strings, a plaintive acoustic guitar, some form of percussion), the lack of powerful or enticing lyrical flair blends all the songs together into a somewhat innocuous amalgam. While minutes of the album seem ripped from Will Oldham’s discography—appropriate for minor key indie movies about growing up in the sticks, the disc on a whole is catch and release. Again, not necessarily a bad thing—getting to choose a few of the fantastic tracks from Moore’s latest can seem like a delightful gift, and it is. When taken as a full album, however, Demolished Thoughts is nothing to write home about.

Thurston Moore – Demolished Thoughts Tracklist:

1. “Benediction”
2. “Illuminine”
3. “Circulation”
4. “Blood Never Lies”
5. “Orchard Street”
6. “In Silver Rain with a Paper Key”
7. “Mina Loy”
8. “Space”
9. “January”

Self-described “flower-punk” band Black Lips have been pumping out psychedelic garage punk for the better part of a decade. Six studio albums is a lot of time to develop a sound and tone, sometimes too much time. Bands that last that long often find themselves in a creative rut. While it’s too much fun to be called a rut of any sort, Black Lips’ newest release, Arabia Mountain, chooses to stick mostly to what the band knows best with 16 quick, punk-inspired lo-fi jams. That’s not to say the album is bad; most of Arabia Mountain sounds like it has been done before, but its surprising consistency and genuinely catchy hooks make the record a great soundtrack for the start of the summer season.

Black Lips’ previous album, 200 Million Thousand, had several really excellent songs (its radio single “Short Fuse” and the crashing “Elijah,” among others) but was weighed down by a good amount of forgettable filler. Luckily, the band has worked hard to fix this problem for Arabia Mountain. Every song, from the funky album opener “Family Tree” to the creepy finisher “You Keep on Running” feels important and stands out from other songs while still fitting into the record’s overall groove in a way that many of the songs on 200 Million didn’t.

Stronger consistency is a plus, but the album is held back by a few things. Arabia Mountain, while not deeply flawed, suffers from a lack of innovation. The band mostly plays it safe by incorporating elements they have already toyed with: punk rock enthusiasm mixed with spacey, psychedelic guitars all drenched in fuzz and static.

This works for the band just like it has in the past; it isn’t a bad sound and it’s definitely one that the band is comfortable playing in, but with that comfort comes a sense that this has been done before. You have likely heard something very similar to Arabia Mountain, and that is especially true if you have experience with any of the band’s earlier works. That said, their music has an undeniably infectious enthusiasm that ensures listeners will feel their time has not been wasted, just spent on something familiar and fun.

Arabia Mountain still contains a few standout tracks, including the super-catchy “Modern Art,” “Spidey’s Curse” (which yes, is about Peter Parker), and the album’s psychedelic first single “Go Out And Get It.” Most songs on the album run about two to three minutes long, giving the album a quick pace that never drags or gets boring.

Those looking for a mind-boggling genre exploration will find themselves disappointed with Black Lips’ newest, but previous fans of the band will find the album to be one of their most consistent efforts. It won’t be blowing anyone’s mind, but music fans looking for some fun, summery punk music could do a hell of a lot worse than Arabia Mountain.

Black Lips Arabia Mountain Tracklisting:

1. “Family Tree”
2. “Modern Art”
3. “Spidey’s Curse”
4. “Mad Dog”
5. “Mr. Driver”
6. “Bicentennial Man”
7. “Go Out and Get It”
8. “Raw Meat”
9. “Bone Marrow”
10. “The Lie”
11. “Time”
12. “Dumpster Dive”
13. “New Direction”
14. “Noc-a-Homa”
15. “Don’t Mess Up My Baby”
16. “You Keep on Running”

For some people, a little bit of Here We Go Magic goes a long way. On The January EP, the band goes a long way for just a little bit.

Appreciation for Here We Go Magic’s two full-length albums, the 2009 self-titled debut and 2010’s slightly more extroverted Pigeons, depended on the listener’s tolerance for extended musical meandering (or, in simpler terms, whether you labeled Animal Collective as “adventurous” or “overindulgent”). For every flash-bang funhouse like Pigeons‘ “Old World United,” there were at least three or four snoozers.

Songs like “Old World United” were worth polite applause, but now for the first time on record, Here We Go Magic actually sounds thrilling.

If you found Here We Go Magic’s previous efforts saggy, try “Tulip” on for size – it’s a hip-shaking rocker with terse riffs, graveyard keyboards and some mean falsetto from singer Luke Temple. “You got that message/And that message wasn’t clean,” he sings, coy as ever. There’s this outdated notion that makes a lot of music fans queasy, the one that states rock music has to be all loud, dick-swinging flamboyance, but Here We Go Magic do that kind of thing well, and listeners shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting more of that on a future release. For all its indulgence, the band can walk the tightrope, too; “Tulip” is tempered with come-hither suggestion, the pulsing lust doing a do-si-do with pretty persuasion.

This former one-man project of Temple’s has toured with other sepia-toned acts like The Walkmen and Grizzly Bear, but The January EP is most similar to the form and function of thecontrollersphere from of Montreal, a new EP from an artist-cum-frontman that mixes what sounds like dull outtakes with new sounds that (hopefully) hint at a change in course.

After the freezing pool dip of “Tulip,” sex gives way to sadness. A kinetic beat kicks off “Hands in the Sky,” but the lyrics—the EP’s best—make it crawl, and this is a very good thing. “For a while her body made no sound,” Temple sings about a dying mother, “and the first thing she said as they wheeled her to her son/’Forgive me boy, I know now what I’ve done.'”

The story continues to unravel to its inevitable end: “A broken frame with a wide electric face/The heat of her love/In the face of her disease/Would bring any man standing to his knees.” It’s not often a song—one that sounds like The Antlers covering Dave Matthews Band—gets you hopelessly hooked like a soap opera fan by the second verse. Soon after, no words can express the narrator’s loss, and a whirl of instruments only attempts to replicate the rush of emotions over a lost love one.

As before, Here We Go Magic falters when aimlessness, figuring something meaningful will just materialize. “Hollywood” is vaguely ethereal church music, interesting only because the repeated title sounds more like “holy war.” And “Mirror Me” is meh at best, with flowery keyboards, layers of guitar, blurry vocals and are you asleep yet? Here We Go Magic has always showed flickers of promise, never more than on The January EP. However, even in such a short release, there’s still some malaise and fat (characteristic of the dullest month of the year).

They should shake it off soon. Bands get restless by the time of the third album, which is why so many of those range from subtle tweaks to major departures from an established sound (The Velvet Underground, Wilco, KT Tunstall…there’s enough to fill a separate record store section). The January EP is not that third album. It is, however, a rough blueprint, and if arresting moments like “Hands in the Sky” arrive clasping hands with punchy songs like “Tulip” and the Police-styled new waver “Backwards Time,” album numero tres should surprise fans and skeptics alike.

Here We Go Magic – The January EP

1. “Tulip”
2. “Hands in the Sky”
3. “Song in Three”
4. “Hollywood”
5. “Backwards Time”
6. “Mirror Me”

Austra’s new album, Feel It Break, is a mix between dance music and down tempo electronica. Opener “Darken Her Hose” is a precursor to the rest of the album. It is quiet and slow, and the main focus of the song is the singer’s vocals taking over everything else. But as the song progresses, a subtle beat starts to pop up through everything else. Suddenly the song has a pulse like a heartbeat and you can’t help grooving to every minute of it. The singer’s vocal tracks are strangely fitting for this dark, almost gothic and industrial sounding beat as it carries throughout the rest of the song.

The rest of Feel It Break follows those same principles used in “Darken Her Horse” with minor variations. For the most part, one song on the album is almost indistinguishable from the last, and the only thing a listener can to do tell them apart is think, “Oh, this is the song where she sings like this instead of like this.”

Songs toward the middle of the album like “The Choke” are cookie cutters from the others on the album, and sadly most of the album seems to be written in almost entirely the same time signature. And lyrically, this album does little for anyone who wants something more than a nice chorus line to sing along to.

The album does have its good parts, though. The first five songs seem to be what Austra focused on while writing this album. “Lost It,” the second song on the album, is probably the album’s best. This is because “Lose It” doesn’t just make you want to dance to Austra’s beats, but as the signer belts out, “Don’t wanna looooose ya,” you are captivated by it. You are brought into her world and feel what she’s feeling.

This doesn’t happen on the rest of the tracks and the weaker songs don’t have the same type of emotion put into them. The next few songs “The Future,” “Beat and the Pulse,” and “Spellwork” are appealing because they flash off all Austra’s studio magic tricks to make this album appealing. “The Future” builds in a typical industrial fashion in which the drum beats and kicks are added to as the song progresses.

“Beat and the Pulse” is the track in which Austra shows  an ’80s sound, creating a synth masterpiece that actually feels like it might have been written when ecstasy was still a club drug and blue monday was still something you experienced after eating X all weekend and couldn’t find your way out of bed once it was all over.

“Spellwork” is a pretty song that makes you feel like you are dancing in a club when calling someone a “Goth” didn’t turn them into a social pariah. However, after that track, the rest of Feel It Break is repetitive and can basically be summed up by the first five songs on the album.

If dance music is what you’re into, you’ll see no problem with Feel it Break, but if you’re looking for something more challenging than a 4/4 time signature, Austra might not be the band for you. Feel It Break sounds good the first time you listen to it, but after a few spins, you’ll grow a bit tired of the songs, except for few that really get to you.

Austra – Feel It Break Tracklisting:

1. “Darken Her Horse”
2. “Lose It”
3. “The Future”
4. “Beat and the Pulse”
5. “Spellwork”
6. “The Choke”
7. “Hate Crime”
8. “The Villain”
9. “Shoot the Water”
10. “The Noise”
11. “The Beast”

To your dad, that’s a pound sign on cover of Death Cab for Cutie’s Codes & Keys. Generation Y-Not knows it by a more esoteric name, one that might make Dad think his kid’s a stoner. If the symbols in everyday life have taken on new meaning, so have Death Cab For Cutie’s songs, which aren’t so much about domestic happiness as the peace that comes with settling down.

Death Cab for Cutie’s last and best album, Narrow Stairs, succeeded because it was so sneaky; bold without sounding like it. That record’s best moment can go unnoticed to untrained ears: “I Will Possess Your Heart” needed just two words to completely turn the accompanying verse on its head. Ben Gibbard, the anti-rock star with that golden honey voice, added “just yet” to the line about books written “in a language that you can’t read.”

There aren’t many of those mind games on Codes & Keys, and Gibbard and Co. step back whenever the momentum builds. The result is the high-and-dry listening experience of the year.

“Unobstructed Views” is a half instrumental in the vein of Death Cab’s best work, but elsewhere the band seems tentative. With its Joy Division-esque bass line and kinetic drumming, “Doors Unlocked and Open” threatens to delve into a meaty Krautrock jam but stays far enough from the cliff’s edge to keep it from really getting interesting. Sometimes the blame is squarely on Gibbard: even on the musically superb “Some Boys” (as in “some boys don’t know how to love”), he just sounds smarmy, like your girlfriend’s close guy pal who may or may not want her for himself. There’s no smirk needed, because you can picture him doing it with his eyes.

Even if the music isn’t that interesting, the musicianship is razor sharp. First single “You Are a Tourist” has a glitchy start with clipped guitar that serves to remind why Death Cab easily courted a major label (Chris Walla’s dewy production never hurts). The track’s dizzy jangle and cotton-balled piano underscores Gibbard’s lyrics: “Sometimes the best intentions are in need of redemption/Don’t you agree?/If so, please show me.”

There are clear redeeming parts to Codes & Keys. “She may be young but she only likes old things/Today’s music isn’t to her taste,” he sings with a smile on “Monday Morning,” as if bestowing his approval on a new generation of geeky high school students just discovering Meat Is Murder for the first time.

“When she sings, I hear a symphony/And I’m swallowed in sound,” his voice hovers above the swirly acoustic guitar in the joie de vivre closer “Stay Young Go Dancing.” This is going to be somebody’s wedding song.

Gibbard excels at writing a really specific type of song in the past tense. In these scenarios, he empathetically recounts in second person how something didn’t go as planned for the protagonist, detailing the emotional aftermath that ensued.

But Death Cab for Cutie’s latest album, Codes & Keys, is more about the present than the past—analyzing “what is” over “what if?” Those satisfied with the present rarely question the past.

“What now” is what fans will ask. The band’s recent string of albums showed them pushing hard toward subgenre mastery. 2003’s Transatlanticism was melancholy and infinite sadness in one. Their Atlantic debut Plans brought more hooks than a meat locker while the followup Narrow Stairs stretched out in the extra space that major label semi-experimentalism offers. Codes & Keys, however, finds the band in a holding pattern, a few interesting things here (“Some Boys”) and there (“Monday Morning”) but nothing essential. It’s not surprising if the songs sound more settled than the dares from recent albums. If the band’s major changes in their personal lives—marriages, kids—have any influence (and it’s likely they do), stasis sounds good right about now.

The songs on Codes & Keys are nowhere nearly as good as the brisk propeller pop of Plans or the arresting, damaged beauty of Narrow Stairs. But if the album stops short of warranting “because it’s Death Cab” auto-praise, it’s still worth more than a couple hash tags.

Death Cab for Cutie – Codes & Keys Tracklist:

1. “Home Is a Fire”
2. “Codes and Keys”
3. “Some Boys”
4. “Doors Unlocked and Open”
5. “You Are a Tourist”
6. “Unobstructed Views”
7. “Monday Morning”
8. “Portable Television”
9. “Underneath the Sycamore”
10. “St. Peter’s Cathedral”
11. “Stay Young, Go Dancing”

Let’s Wrestle has prided themselves on being as “raw” as possible—whatever that means. The British rock trio assembled in 2005 and released a series of singles leading up to their debut album. In the Court of Wrestling Let’s came out in 2009, the album named after King Crimson’s In the Court of Crimson King. Let’s Wrestle’s debut received glowing reviews and now the group is back at it with Nursing Home.

Nursing Home brings you back to the 1990s, when everybody had a band that played in their garage, but this one is a cut above. The album starts with the dirty “In My Dreams (Part 2)” where lyricist, Wesley Patrick Gonzalez takes us through his scatterbrained dreams. There are visions of Greek men fighting in a pharmacy and even battling Pokémon charactors: “I punched Pidgeotto right in the face.”

Nursing Home continues through cleverly written songs. “In the Suburbs” celebrates the cul-de-sacs of the world. Gonzalez feels cozy in the monotony of suburban living. “In the suburbs I’ll have dinner with my mother and play computer games all night/‘Cause I feel so safe here.” While most would criticize the suburbs Gonzalez embraces the lack of variety.

“In the Suburbs” leads into the fuck-you anthem of the album, “Bad Mammaries.” “Aren’t you a bit wrinkled to be a nymphomaniac?/And aren’t you a bit arrogant to be so insignificant?” Gonzalez continues to wonder how some people are just so well liked.

The writing is the star of Nursing Home as Gonzalez plays with sarcasm, apathy and even heartbreak in “I Am Useful.”

Although Nursing Home features many well written tracks, there are a few that are lacking. “There’s a Rockstar in My Room” is too literal (guess what the song is about). “I’m So Lazy” is also pretty straightforward: “I’m so lazy/I’m so lazy/I can’t sleep.”

Where the album truly falls short is in the actual music. The songs seem to blend together except for the two sedated songs, “For My Mother” and “I Am Useful.”  Most of the guitar riffs are muddy and the instruments sound clustered, giving the album a taste of grunge.

While Let’s Wrestle stumbled over their own feet for a moment, Nursing Home put forth a sharp anthology of lyrics and stuck to their “raw” style.

Let’s Wrestle – Nursing Home Tracklist:

1. “In Dreams Part II”
2. “If I Keep on Loving You”
3. “In the Suburbs”
4. “Bad Mammaries”
5. “Dear John”
6. “For My Mother”
7. “I’m So Lazy”
8. “There’s a Rockstar in My Room”
9. “I Forgot”
10. “I Am Useful”
11. “I Will Not Give In”
12. “Getting Rest”

Respect the vomit…

Many desires are expressed by Ms. Stefani Germanotta throughout Born This Way. She wants to get drunk, laid, loved, adored, forgiven and understood…seemingly from one track to the next. Yet the lasting impression of Born This Way is Lady Gaga’s desire to secure her longevity.

Album opener “Marry the Night” is a standard rave-up, adequate but really just a launch pad for the second track (and the album’s first single) “Born This Way.” The comparisons to The Queen of Pop (and let’s be honest, true King) Madonna’s “Express Yourself” are natural and their similarities are undeniable. While unable to add to “Express Yourself” musically, Gaga seizes the reigns lyrically on the album’s title track. Evolving the earlier theme of self expression, Gaga lets her audience know that before expressing yourself, it is best to accept yourself. The pop diva leads by example, respecting the gravity of her creativity. A lesser artist would not have been so bold as to run toward influence and comparison, or at least remain as unharmed. On the creative process, Gaga was quoted saying she “respects the vomit” of her improvisations and tries to honor it and not her own intentions. Moments like this peel away the veneer of a pants-less young woman at a Yankee’s game (and meat dresses) to expose an artist with a firm grasp not only on her art, but what art truly is. This is more than pop music and while Lady Gaga is not yet all the way there as an artist, she is a lot closer than she is given credit for.

It’s not long before “Judas” arrives with what is now Gaga’s trademark incantation of her own name. It works. The jarring chants, the unrelenting kick drum, and the overall desperation drenches the song in darkness until the chorus’ abrupt turn to pop redemption. The Lady’s tricks may not be the most subversive, but they work. It is apparent throughout the album that she is really trying to make the most out of each of her tracks, sometimes more transparently than others. Though the songs on Born This Way occasionally teeter toward overwrought, their grandiosity is easily forgiven under Lady Gaga’s control.

At the album’s worst, all that is missing is someone getting Gaga a copy of Bee Thousand, where not every song needs even two choruses to be memorable, let alone six of them.

Not every track grabs for Top of the Pops glory, however. “Bloody Mary” will satisfy even the most seasoned music fans with its laid back yet uptempo and lush grooves, making it perfect for the holy trinity of music listening experiences: exercise, dance and lovemaking. “Bad Kids” delivers some of the album’s greatest lines, from the casually delivered, “My parents tried until they got divorced ‘cause I ruined their lives,” to the coolly honest, “I’m a twit, degenerate, young rebel and I’m proud of it.” Another late surprise on Born This Way is the unbelievably titled “Highway Unicorn (Road to Love),” a title the song actually lives up to. Not since the Black Angels’ “Young Men Dead” has there been a song so destined for late night highway burns—except Gaga doesn’t drive down those roads. She flies. Even the girl-and-her-piano track “You and I” works as Born This Way’s penultimate song. Any earlier in the album and the track wouldn’t have fit right, showing that not only can Gaga write songs, but she can craft albums as well.

While the songs are consistent and the album moves along nicely from track to track, there are no complete blockbuster moments and Born This Way will not bring many of Gaga’s detractors over to her side. Looking at The Fame Monster as being recorded on the go and consisting of holdovers from The Fame, Born This Way is Lady Gaga’s first proper and meditated artistic statement since her introduction to the world. As far as establishing her longevity, she’s got absolutely nothing to worry about, as long as she keeps respecting the vomit. If Gaga can control her music the way she controls her hype, she’ll be able to create on the worldwide platform for quite some time.

Lady Gaga – Born This Way Tracklist:

1. “Marry The Night”
2. “Born This Way”
3. “Government Hooker”
4. “Judas”
5. “Americano”
6. “Hair”
7. “Schiße”
8. “Bloody Mary”
9. “Bad Kids”
10. “Highway Unicorn (Road 2 Love)”
11. “Heavy Metal Lover”
12. “Electric Chapel”
13. “You And I”
14. “The Edge of Glory”